The House of the Laird (17 page)

“
In a very short while now—if you
’
re quite, quite sure you haven
’
t changed your mind?—we
’
ll have a neat gold band below that ring,
”
he said, and the tone of his voice, and the look in his eyes when they gazed
straight
at her, turned all her bones to water. She felt as if she simply melted into his arms when he stood up and drew her upwards with him
and securely into them.

“
Oh, darli
n
g,
”
he whispered to her then,
darling
.”

The rest of that evening passed like a dream—a rainbow-tinted dream which might never occur again—and it was a dream of unadulterated happiness so far as Karen was concerned. She wore her cloudy black evening frock, and with the color returned to her face and her blue eyes alight with happiness, she knew that she was looking her best, and Iain
’
s eyes seldom left her face. They sat side by side at dinner, and although Fiona sat facing them in one of her spectacular evening gowns it didn
’
t seem to matter in the least, because under the protection of the table Iain
’
s hand was continually seeking hers, and the pressure of his fingers almost hurt her at times.

Aunt Horatia looked thoroughly contented as always, and was full of the dance which was to take place the following evening. Both she and Mrs. Barrington had exclaimed over Karen
’
s ring, and it was left to Fiona to remind Karen that opals were generally considered unlucky, and to express surprise because Iain had chosen one.

“
But perhaps you
’
re not superstitious?
”
she said, with the lightest tinge of mockery in her voice.
“
Or perhaps you
’
re merely brave, and feel you can keep anything in the nature of unhappiness at bay?
”

And it was only when she was lying in her own bed in the darkness of her room that Karen remembered, for no reason that she could think of, that Judith Drew, who was Nannie McBain
’
s near neighbor, had told her that there was a ring at the bottom of her cup.

But the wedding bells were muffled!...

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
he amount of t
rouble Aunt Horatia had taken to ensure that her dance was a success was well repaid. It was a surprise to Karen to discover that despite the apparent isolation of Auchenwiel large numbers of people lived near enough to have accepted invitations, and the drive was filled with cars
bringing beautifully-dressed men and women to the brilliantly-lighted house.

Craigie, with its gentler beauty and much smaller size, was a fitting background for intimate
small
dinner-parties, and perhaps occasionally a very informal dance; but Auchenwiel, with its impressive panelled hall and staircase, its suits of armor and its portraits, huge public rooms and specially built-on ballroom, was exactly the type of house to provide a perfect setting for an occasion such as this. It was little enough used in this way, because Aunt
Horry so disliked anything in the nature of severe weather that she fled abroad to her Italian villa for increasingly lengthy periods. But tonight, although a light mist hung about the silent hills, and only a few stars showed through wisps of trailing vapor, the cars had come considerable distances, because a dance at Auchenwiel was something which everyone knew they would thoroughly enjoy.

Karen wore the white dress patterned with silver leaves, and she looked really
en
chanting with her shining fair hair and glowing eyes, especially as Aunt Horry had decided she was so nearly a Mackenzie that she should be permitted to wear a tartan sash draped over one shoulder which all Highland ladies wore on occasions such as this, and which served to e
mp
hasize the beauty of her white dress.

“
I feel a little bit of a fraud,
”
she said to Iain, when he took her in his arms in the quiet library shortly before the first guests arrived, and a kind of breathless excitement assailed her because the tartan sash which so emphasized her youthful slenderness was the same as the Mackenzie tartan of his own kilt and plaid.
“
I haven
’
t any right to wear the Mackenzie tartan—at least, not yet,
”
with an adorably shy upward glance at him.

“
In a few days, my darling,
”
he told her, resisting the temptation to crush her close to him and thereby possibly damage her dress, and kissing her lingeringly on the top of her head instead,
“
you will possess the right not only to all I am and possess, but to my name and everything else about me. Only a few days,
”
sighing softly against her hair.
“
And then you
’
ll be my wife!
”

“
Have you seen the vicar?
”
she asked, suddenly covered in shyness.

“
Yes; I have—only we don
’
t call them vicars in
’
Scotland,
”
he answered, laughing
’
at her gently.
“
I
’
ve seen the minister, and we don
’
t have to have our banns called, or anything like that, because I
’
ve provided myself with a licence which entitles me to marry you at a
minute
’
s notice if I feel like it
,
Miss March.
”

“
But—but was that necessary?
”
she stammered, blushing uncontrollably.

“
It was,
”
he answered.
“I
don
’
t propose
to wait
three weeks for you, my little love, and I
think you
know that!
”

They heard the noise of the first arrivals, and then the orchestra which had arrived from Edinburgh started to tune up, and after that there was so much danger of the library being invaded that he kissed her hurriedly—although very satisfyingly—on the lips, and they left the library together.

Dancing with him later, Karen decided inwardly that if she had been
born
for no other purpose
than
to dance with him tonight in such a setting it was almost, if not quite, a sufficient justification for her existence. She was feeling so much stronger, and he was such a perfect partner, and the music w
as
so tuneful, that for the first time for many weeks she felt as if happiness was a thing which could never escape her, and looking up into the face of the man she was to marry she felt utterly confident of their future together.

She might not be the kind of wife he should have had—she would not make a perfect mistress for Craigie, like Fiona, for instance—but she loved him with all her heart, and held in his arms like this she knew without a doubt that he loved her.

Afterwards she danced with one or two of the younger men visitors, to whom she was proudly introduced by her hostess, and with Aubrey, who was not really a very good dancer, however, and managed to catch his heel in the hem of her dress, with the result that he practically succeeded in ripping it off.

Fiona Barrington, who was passing at the time in the arms of a man who had paid her a good deal of attention all evening, paused and went to Karen
’
s rescue, shaking her head over the torn hem and the clumsiness of Aubrey at the same time, and then leading her away to a far corner of the ballroom where she could inspect the damage more carefully. Then she said:

“
You can
’
t dance any longer like that. You
’
ll probably catch your foot in that tear and fall down or something, so you
’
d better come up with me to my room and I
’
ll see what I can do to effect a quick repair.
”

Karen was at first loath to trouble her and interfere with her enjoyment of the dance, although Fiona had worn an expression ever since dinner which suggested that she was not greatly enjoying herself. However, she gave in, and Fiona led the way up the broad staircase to her room, and there brought out a work-box and a needle and thread.

“
Just a few stitches,
”
she said,
“
and at least you
’
ll be able to continue dancing. Iain would hardly enjoy his evening if you had to fall out, would he?
”
looking at her a trifle dryly.

Karen thanked her, and hoped that they might return downstairs as quickly as possible, but Fiona seemed in no hurry—in fact
,
she seemed very much the reverse, an
d
after tacking the hem up again she suggested that as it was very hot downstairs, and very cool where they were, and that Iain, in any case, had a few duty dances to perform, they might as well enjoy a few moments of respite.

“
Sit down,
”
she said,
“
and have a cigarette.

She pushed a comfortable chair towards Karen
a
nd took another herself, then produced an exquisite toy of a gold and enamel cigarette-case from her evening bag and offered it to the younger girl. Karen so seldom smoked that she would have preferred to decline, but she thought at once that this might cause Fiona
’
s lovely sleek eyebrows to lift a little in amusement because of her lack of sophistication, and so she accepted one instead.

She had already observed that the bedroom was very similar to her own, but it was filled with so many of Fiona
’
s own costly things that it looked extremely luxurious. The bed was already turned down, and there was Fiona
’
s nightdress—an exquisite froth of transparent peach-colored georgette—laid out ready for her across it. Fiona
’
s black
satin house-coat lay across the foot of the bed, and a pair of tiny velvet mules were placed ready for her to step into.

The dressing-table was loaded with cosmetics and various gold-stoppered bottles and flagons, as well as magnificent gold-backed hairbrushes and a hand
mirror. A photograph in a neat but expensive
-
looking frame occupied a prominent position amongst the various toilet articles, and as the room was flooded with soft but brilliant light it was easy enough for Karen to recognize the face of the man who seemed to be looking straight towards her.

She sat almost bolt upright in her chair as she recognized Iain, and Mrs. Barrington, lying languidly back in her own chair, smiled a slow, appreciative smile.

“
Ah, I see you have caught sight of Iain
’
s photograph!
”
she exclaimed.

Karen looked at her as if she was seeking an explanation, and then back at the handsome, faintly smiling face of the man she was to marry. The photograph had probably been taken three or four years before, but it was Iain as she knew him—and loved him!

“
Are you so very surprised to see that I treasure his photograph?
”
Fiona demanded softly.

“
I don
’
t think I quite understand,
”
Karen began.
“
I mean—I know, of course, that you were once
engaged to be married
—”

“
Just as you are at the present time,
”
Fiona murmured, as if the thought amused her.
“
You
’
re going to marry Iain now—and I was going to marry him two years ago. But I made a mistake and let him
go, and of course I lived to realize how wrong I was! You may live to do just that very thing, and that
’
s why I thought it would be a very good plan to remain up here for a little while and have a little talk with you instead of rushing back to the dancers. One can dance at almost any time if one seriously wants to, but once one
’
s made a bad mistake like rushing into an unwise marriage it isn
’
t so easy to extricate oneself.
”

“
I
still don
’
t think I understand,
”
Karen managed to articulate, very softly, and the other woman smiled pleasantly.

“
My dear girl, that
’
s because you
’
re young, and at the moment you think you
’
re in love—but are you
quite
sure Iain
’
s in love with you?
”

“
I—
”
Karen put a hand up to her throat, as if
s
he felt a tightness there—
“
I—You
’
ve said yourself that we
’
re going to be married!
”

“
Yes, of course you are, my dear—or you will be, if you feel like going through with it. But what I asked you was—is Iain in love with you? Not just temporarily carried away because you
’
re so young and helpless, and he happens to be the type of man to whom helpless creatures appeal! I think I told you once before that he
’
s terribly kind, and you more or less put him into the position where he hadn
’
t much choice but to ask you to marry him, didn
’
t you?
”
Her smile remained pleasant, and even sympathetic.
“
Oh, my dear, I understand perfectly. He
’
s terribly attractive, and you couldn
’
t say
‘
no
’
when he asked you, of course.
”

Karen found that she was voiceless. Inside her she had gone very cold, and something was still and waiting deep down amongst the ro
o
ts of her being—waiting for the moment when everything she valued most would be wrenched away from her.

“
Listen!
”
Fiona leant a little towards her.
“
Shall I tell you the truth about Iain and myself?
”
As Karen made no attempt to answer she continued:
“
We adored one another years ago, and I adore him
still. I married another man because he was wealthier than Iain, and because I was a fool. But the moment I was free I wrote to Iain and told him I wanted us to meet again, and he agreed it was the only sensible thing to do. Because when two people have been so deeply in love that they know they can never experience anything like it again they can
’
t afford to let pride stand in the way! And Iain had already wandered unhappily about the world for nearly two years because of me. So when his aunt asked me to stay with her I thought it a splendid idea, and Iain would have thought it a splendid idea—but for you!
”

Her golden eyes flickered, as if she was endeavoring to keep reproach and hostility out of them, but finding it difficult.

“
If he hadn
’
t run into you on that night train to Edinburgh, and taken you to Craigie House—where he
had
to say something to prevent gossip arising, and thought up that story about an engagement—he and I would now be preparing for the wedding that should have taken place two years ago, and
you
wouldn
’
t be any the worse off, would you? Because you would never have known him!
”

“
And wh
a
t do you want me to do?
”
Karen asked, in a strangely quiet, controlled, and rather weary voice.

“
My dear child, I don
’
t want you to do anything dramatic. But just think, before you take the very final step of marrying Iain, whether it really is the wisest and most sensible step you could take! Ask yourself what there is about you that could hold a man like Iain for long, even if something about you appeals strongly to him at the moment! Ask yourself how
you
’ll
feel when it becomes obvious that he
’
s losing interest a little—that he
’
s resenting being tied—that he
’
s resenting losing me! Because I can assure you he
’
s never stopped loving me—not deep down in his heart!
”

She crushed out the end of her cigarette in an ashtray, and then carefully selected another, stuck it in the end of her long turquoise holder and lighted it. She looked at Karen carefully and consideringly.

“
I
’
ve known all along that you don
’
t actually
believe
in his love for you,
”
she told her.
“
It
’
s been in your face at times—that nagging doubt! And so do please think this thing over very carefully before you take that final step, not only for your own sake, but for the sakes of all three of us!
”

Then, although she had only just lighted the fresh cigarette, she crushed it out in the ashtray and rose gracefully.

“
Perhaps we
’
d better get back to the others now,
”
she said,
“
or our absence will begin to be noticed.
”

Karen got through the remainder of that evening without noticeably betraying the fact that there was no longer any enjoyment in it for her, and when at last Iain remarked that she looked tired she explained that she had given her ankle a slight wrench, and it was hurting a little.

It was close upon three o
’
clock in the morning, and already there was a slight thinning of the guests. She decided that it would not be unreasonable to plead a desire to go to bed.

“
If you
’
d explain to Aunt Horry that I
’
m tired,
”
she said, looking up into his face with large but quite unrevealing eyes. She smiled faintly:
“
This sort of thing is new to me, you know,
”
she added.
“
I
’
m not accustomed to exciting dissipations of this sort.
”

“
Of course, darling,
”
he answered, and drew her into the quiet hall and to the foot of the handsome carved staircase. There he kissed her gently, but lingeringly, on her slightly drooping lips.
“
Don
’
t you bother about Aunt Horry—she
’
ll understand. And I think you can do with some sleep.
”

He stood watching her until she reached the bend in the stairs which took her out of his sight, and even after that she had the feeling that he was still standing and looking upwards at the spot where she had disappeared.

In her own room she not only shut the door, but locked it, because it provided her with a feeling of inviolability which
was important to her just then. She could not have borne it if Aunt Horry had sent someone to help her into bed, or to bring her hot milk, or something of the sort. And she simply could not have endured it if Fiona Barrington had come along to have any more conversation with her.

She sat on the side of her bed and remembered the words Judith Drew had used to her on the afternoon which now seemed centuries ago.
“
You
’
ve got to be very careful,
”
Judith had said,
“
but it
’
s the dark and the light—the
dark and the light, who were made for one another, and who may miss one another altogether! ... You may be caught up in a mist that will wrap you about—you won
’
t see your
way...
”