The girl in the blue dress (5 page)

Now she saw how ridiculous and untenable such a
theory must be. Like everyone else in. the world, Geoffrey might have his firm
intentions and make his plans. But, human nature being what it is, no amount of
planning will safeguard one against the sudden capitulation of the heart.

Why should he not fall in love with Sara Wayne? She
was lovely enough, in all conscience. And, as she reached this point in her
thoughts, Beverley slackened her pace. She forgot about the bus, and thought
only of the unspeakable desert which life would become if she had to face the
fact that
Geoffrey belonged to someone else,
so far as his
affections were concerned.

It was not as though she could ask him anything
about it. For one thing, if he did not choose to confide in her', and why
should he? it was not for her to force the issue. And, in any case, she had no
right to the information in the first place.

She even wondered remorsefully now if she should somehow
have managed to stop Toni before she had said so much. But it was no good going
back over that ground now.

And then Beverley turned the last curve in the lane,
and was immediately presented with a practical fact which drove melancholy
reflections from her
mind for the moment.
The bus-stop was in full view,
though a good hundred yards away. And
there, just drawing up to decant a couple of passengers and take up two or
three more, was her bus.

Too late she broke into the sharpest sprint she could
manage. She had not covered half the intervening distance before the bus moved
off once more. And Beverley was left panting and waving fruitlessly, while the
bus sailed away over the hill into the
distance.

It was the most maddening thing! For something like
two hours she would have to sit there on a bench, at least there was a bench!
kicking her heels and waiting for the next bus.

She could hardly go back to the house. She did not
know the family well enough for that. And there was a four- or five-mile walk
between her and any other bus route that would get her home.

More slowly, since speed did not matter now, she made
her way to the bus-stop and stood disconsolately studying the out-of-date and
rather fly-blown time-table pasted on the board. This told her quite a lot
about the buses which would not be running on Christmas Day and Bank Holidays, and
even stated the times of buses during the winter months. But there was no
information about summer services, and she turned away, with a gesture of
impatience and disgust.

As she did so a car drove up and a voice called out,
"Have you just missed your bus?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." She approached the
car eagerly.

"Where do you want to go?" The man in the
driving-seat leaned over and opened the nearside door.

"Binwick. Or wherever I can pick up a bus that
goes there."

"All right. Jump in. I'm going through there.
I'll take you along."

"Oh, thank you! But if you could just manage
to overtake the bus and put me down at a stop further on that would do, "
Beverley assured him, as she climbed into the seat beside the driver.

"Sorry. I shan't be following the bus route. I
have to cut across by Steeplemere."

"Well, if you don't mind taking me all the way,
that's better still, of course. I'll be home sooner than the bus would take me,
" Beverley said. And, having slammed the car door, she turned to have a
better look at her companion. She then saw that it was Franklin Lowell.

He was quite unmistakable. The photograph back there
in the little drawing - room at Huntingford Grange was really very good of him.
Except that it had not conveyed in full measure the almost dynamic impression
of energy and vitality which flowed from this big, dark man, with the abrupt
but not unfriendly
voice.

For a moment Beverley sat wordless, watching his strong,
well-shaped hands on the wheel of the car, and wondering what she should say to
him. However, he made it quite easy for her by asking if she belonged to the
district.

"Not immediately round here, " Beverley
explained. "My home is in Binwick. I came here to see Mrs. Wayne. I am
going to do some dressmaking for her in the coming weeks." She thought she
had better make her position clear at once.

"Is that so?" He sounded quite
interested. "I know the Waynes well. In fact, I'm engaged to Sara, the eldest
daughter."

"Yes, I know, " Beverley said a little
shyly.

He flashed her an amused glance.
"How do you know?"

"There is a photograph of you in one of the
rooms at the Grange, and the little girl, Toni, was
anxious to explain about you."

"She would be." But he sounded
good-humoured about it "She is the most chatty kid I know. Where she
acquires all the information she passes on is a
mystery to me."

"Yes, indeed, " said Beverley with some
feeling.
Perhaps with more feeling than she
knew, for he
gave her that bright, half-amused glance again.

"She gave you the family history, I take it?"

"Well, " Beverley smiled with determined
composure, "I was glad when her mother came in and cut short any further
confidences. It is rather embarrassing to be handed out personal details when
you hardly know people."

He laughed. "Don't pay too much attention to
what she says. She also has a lively imagination."

"Do you think so?" Beverley simply could
net hide her eagerness to have that confirmed.

"Why, of course." He looked slightly
surprised. "Don't most children of that age? And Toni has more imagination
than most. Did she tell you something that, embarrassed you?"

"Not, exactly."

"I suppose she said that Sara was marrying me
for my money, and that, otherwise, the family
would
be in the workhouse, or whatever the modern
equivalent is."

"Oh, not quite." She
was a good deal startled
at the almost
brutally careless candour with which he said that. And yet, after a moment, she
was extraordinarily reassured too. For even this uncompromising man would
hardly put such an idea into words, if it were even remotely near the
unfortunate truth.

"I didn't really pay much attention, you
know."
She found suddenly that she
could laugh quite naturally, because her heart felt immensely lightened of its load.
"As you say, all children romance a bit. And the odd thing is that they
more than half believe it themselves."

"That goes for a surprising number of
grown-ups too, " he replied dryly. And then he changed the subject by
asking if she had lived long in Binwick.

"All my life, " Beverley told him, with a
smile. "It's a charming place. Do you know it?"

"Fairly well. I know a very clever artist chap
who lives there. I expect you'll know him too."

"You mean Geoffrey
Revian."

"Yes. Do you know
him?"

"Very well."

"I got him to do a portrait of Sara quite recently.
It was very successful."

"I, I'm sure it was."

"The odd thing was that I didn't even know he
lived in the district until then. But I'd always
been
interested in his work. Not that I know much about art. But I
bought a picture of his at an exhibition
some
years ago."

"Did you?" She could not help being
interested. "What made you buy it? I mean, if you're not interested in
painting."

"I hardly know myself." He laughed
slightly, as though he were 'surprised to find he could not explain any impulse
of his own. "It was just a picture of a most charming child, sitting on
the grass in a blue and white frock. I suppose she would be about Toni's age.
No, maybe rather more. Say fourteen."

"Not, really?" Beverley laughed slightly
in her
turn, on a note of incredulous
surprise and pleasure.
"Was it the, the painting or the subject
that made you buy the picture?"

"Both, I suppose. At least, I thought the
artist had very cleverly caught the personality of the subject. I
remember everything else in the exhibition bored
me.
But I thought, I'd like to know that girl. She's the kind of kid one
would like to have around."

"So you bought it?"

"Yes, I bought it."

"And you still have it?"

"Yes, of course. I don't know that it's of any
special value, in the market sense. But I wouldn't part with it for a really
fancy price. There's something very sane and lovable about my little girl in
the blue and white dress, and although .my worst enemy wouldn't call me a
fanciful chap, I regard her as a very pleasant companion in my house."

"I'm so glad, " Beverley said, and
laughed.

'You sound as though you really mean that."

"Well, I do! Have you never thought that your little
girl in the blue and white dress must be quite grown up now?"

"Yes, certainly. Why do you say that?"

"Because, though I find it rather embarrassing
to tell you so, after all the nice things you have said,
'
I
was the little girl in the blue and white dress.
It was the first
picture Geoffrey ever sold."

"You don't say!" He actually drew the car
to a standstill by the roadside and turned to look at her, his eyes alight with
interest, and his whole attention so completely fixed on her that she flushed
slightly
under his scrutiny.

'Tell me what your name is."

"Miss Farman."

"No. Your first name, " he said, rather
peremptorily. "My little girl in the blue and white dress wouldn't answer
to the name of Miss Farman."

"My first name is Beverley."

"Beverley, " he repeated it
experimentally, "it's a nice name. And it suits her. You, I mean."
Again that bright, penetrating glance travelled over her. "I can see now, of
course, that you are exactly as she would have grown up."

"Oh, thank you." She laughed, and once
more she felt herself flush. "That's very nice of you, though a trifle embarrassing."

"It need not be. I don't think it's in the
least embarrassing. I find it most intriguing, " he said. "Like meeting
an old friend."

She hardly knew how to take such frankness, and yet
she could not be -anything but touched and flat
tered by it.

"You know, " she said, "you are a
most surprising person. No one would suppose from your general air that you
were at all romantic or-, "

"I am not in the least, " he assured her.

"But you must be, " she told him.
"No' entirely practical and common-sense person would make a friend of a
picture and take such obvious pleasure in tracing up the original years
later."

"You mean you think it's rather silly of
me." He considered that frowningly.

"Indeed I don't! I think it's extraordinarily
nice of
you. I don't remember when I've felt
more gratified.
Certainly not since the picture was painted and
exhibited. And sold, " she added, with a half-wistful smile. For she
suddenly remembered with poignant clarity how jubilant Geoffrey and she had
been over that first sale.

"Well, " he looked amused again, "that
seems to establish this as a very satisfactory meeting on both sides." '

And then he drove on once more, while Beverley sat
there thinking what an extraordinary day of dis
coveries this had been.
First there had been the contact with the
Waynes, and the work which was going to follow as a consequence. Then there was
the revelation which Toni had insisted on forcing upon her. Though this, Beverley
was daring to begin to think, was greatly exaggerated and by no means to be taken
as seriously as she had at first supposed. And now there was the surprising
discovery that Franklin Lowell not only owned the picture of herself as a child,
but put a
most flatteringly high value on
it.

"I should like to see it
again, " she said on impulse.

"What? The picture of yourself?"

"Yes."

"Well, you shall. I'll drive you over to my
place one of these days, and you shall see how you looked
when you were a little girl."

"Thank you, " Beverley said. But she
wondered a little uncomfortably if she should have invited that suggestion, and
whether the Waynes were the kind of people who drew a very clear social
distinction between wealthy fiancés and girls who came to the house to do
dressmaking for the family.

During the rest of the drive they talked of
unimportant things. But he insisted on taking her right to
her own front door, and waved away her thanks when
she very earnestly expressed them.

Beverley was aware, from the odd twitching of the front-room
curtains, that Aunt Ellen was watching the scene, no doubt with intense and
rather disapproving curiosity. But she ni;;'K.gej i^ ..-). .. -. -iposed
goodbye to Franklin Lowell, and even to give
him
an impersonal but friendly little wave as he
drove away.