There is always love (21 page)

*'You've always been helpful, Lindy."

"Helpful, perhaps, but pretty cocky. Not very understanding. And as for Uving with Madam Steele, that has been a liberal education in culture and the arts. Distinguished guests. People who are doing things. The newest books. Magazines galore. The latest records, from swing to classics. Her house is full of beautiful things. Not too full. No clutter. She's modern. Every little while she has a lot of treasures put away to be replaced by others. But with all her wealth—sometimes I'm terribly sorry for her."

"I suspect you're wasting your sympathy. She impresses me as being a woman who is a law unto herself."

"She is, but because of her immense wealth she is suspicious of everyone. If a person is nice to her, her eyes narrow, harden, as if she were preparing to repulse a touch for money. I don't wonder. Some days her mail is made up of begging letters. That's another thing I've learned: Too much money is a disillusioning thing."

"I wasn't referring to your viewpoint or your character. They have developed, all right. I don't like your friendship— I hope it is only that—^with Keith Sanders."

"Why not? He's gay, charming, makes a spectacular income for so young a man and when we walk into a night club or the theater he has a headline personality. I'm not in the least in love with him, if that's what you mean. Speaking of love, I presume Greg Merton is still devoted to Hester?" She perked the loops of a green-satin bow and regarded it critically.

"They drop in here occasionally together, but I can't see symptoms of intense devotion on his part."

"Mother will see that devotion develops." Linda was ashamed of the betraying bitterness of her voice. She looked at Ruth quickly, hoping she had not noticed it. Apparently she hadn't. She appeared absorbed in the relative values of silver or gold ribbon for a package wrapped in star-sprinkled blue paper.

"Keith is coming here to drive me home." Linda reverted to the subject of her late employer. "You're unfair to him. He can be very thoughtful. He suggested the cinema outfit at The Castle, has taken the care of installing it." No need to tell Ruth that she believed it was done to make himself solid with the owner of vast real-estate holdings—the mean suspicion might be merely her hectic imagination working over-120

time. "Madam Steele has ordered two pictures for the holiday. He's coming for Christmas. I hope it won't spoil your day."

"Of course it won't. Because I don't want you to marry him doesn't mean that I'm allergic to him. Has that play-writing germ he had picked up before he went to the Grants* ever developed into a serious attack?"

"Haven't heard of it since. Perhaps he tried, perhaps he discovered that it isn't the 'cinch' he thought it."

"That and portrait paintingl You don't have to tell me they're no cinch. Libby Hull is a problem. I want her to go home for the holiday. She won't. Says that there's no one there for whom she gives a tinker's darn."

"Abracadabra! Vanish your problem. Madam Steele met her here. Thinks she's a 'colorful' character. Told me this morning to invite her. She would have her meals with Buff and the maids. Will she do it?"

"Never. But it's only fair to extend the invitation. Here she is. Watch for fireworks." Liberty Hull was smiling as she entered with the tray; her black eyes snapped like jet beads reflecting the light.

"Thought I heard your voice, Lindy. Glad to see you. Mrs. Bourne phoned she and Hester would be here for tea, Ruth, so I brought extra cups."

"Goodness! Lx)ok at this room! Quick, Lindy, help clear away these ribbons and papefs." Ruth opened a blond-mahogany chest. "Drop them in here. Libby, pile the packages on the end of the piano."

"That's pretty near magic," she approved as she set an enameled box from Norway back on the cleared table. "Libby, wait a minute."

"Can't. I've left the marmalade rolls toasting and the puffed-cheese crackers in the oven."

"They can wait. Madam Steele has invited you to The Castle for the holiday." Ruth swallowed twice before she explained, "As—as a sort of maid for me."

Liberty Hull's mouth tipped up at one comer.

"That means that I'll eat with the servants, I suppose. Well, my great grandfather had the intelligence to serve as Speaker of our State Legislature for eight years and I guess he handed down enough common sense to me so I'll take the chance to see life above- and below-stairs in one of them big houses, what, with one thing and another, you see pictured in the magazines. Thank Madam Steele kindly, Lindy, and tell her I'll be pleased to come." She paused on the threshold.

"Who knows but what 111 make such a good impression that I'll get a job as housekeeper. You won't be needing me, Ruth,

when you and Skid Grant get married." With which exit line she vanished into the hall.

Linda stared at the crimson face of her friend.

"Ruth! Ruthetta Brewster. What did she mean? Are you and Skid, are you—?"

"Engaged? No. Now that you are in love with Keith Sanders—Skid thinks you are—" she corrected in response to Linda's protesting gesture—"he has turned to me. I'm shameless enough to admit that I've loved him since we were children. When I was convinced you didn't want him, I—I did something about it. New setting. New hair-do. New clothes. New interests. He began to notice me. A little make-up is a wondrous thing," she paraphrased. "I am no longer *good-old Ruthetta' but a girl he likes to take out."

"You schemerl You female Menace! You, you dear" Linda's voice was breathless with excitement. "Skid Grant hasn't a chance of escape. How can he help, how could any man help loving you?"

Ruth's cheeks were warm with color. She laughed unsteadily.

"It's surprising how many to date have been immune to my lure. Seriously, Lindy, what I have told you is in strict confidence. No one is to know how brazen I am. Most especially your mother. She might ask me to step aside and give Hester a chance. I thought so," she added cryptically as a pink stain crept to Linda's hair. "She said *Hands off to you about Greg Merton, didn't she?"

"Ruth! How did you—"

"Libby, someday I'm going to kidnap you and put you in charge of my apartment. You're the best housekeeper in the country," announced a resonant voice in the hall.

"The old applesauce," Ruth commented in a whisper. "You'd think Liberty Hull had lived long enough not to be taken in by it but she laps it up." Almost in the same breath she greeted the man who entered. "So glad you've come, Keith."

"Thanks, Ruth. You're looking out of sight, Lindy. Country life is agreeing with you." He deposited a flower box on the table.

"Roses for my tea hostess and a gardenia for Libby." He turned to the woman who had entered with a tray of toasted marmalade rolls and puffy cream-cheese crackers. "It's your movie night, isn't it, Miss Hull?"

Her dark eyes in her long, narrow, bony face glittered with tears, her high-bridged nose twisted ludicrously.

"Why, why, Mr. Sanders, ain't you thoughtful? I never had a flower given to me before in ail my life—by—^by a man, 122

I mean. What with one thing and another, I never had a beau you might call 'special.' "

"You have a flower now, Libby." Ruth handed her the box. "Put the roses in a vase for me and the gardenia in the icebox till you wear it."

"It was sweet of you to think of Libby, Keith," Linda approved as the woman left the room. "But watch your step— breach-of-promise cases have been started on less. She'll adore you." She flung a now-what-do-you-think-of-him glance at Ruth'.

"I'd much rather you would adore me, but I've discovered that I can't buy you with flowers."

That was as definite as he ever had been in expressing his feeling for her, she thought.

"Or anything else. Hullo, Mother. Hester, that fur jacket and black gown of yours are as up-to-the-minute as milk wool," she approved, as Mrs. Bourne and her elder daughter entered. "Gregl Skid! Did you come with them?"

She tried to view the occupants of the modernistic room impartially. Her mother in a brown costume and a matching toque, sitting erect on the edge of a divan, could easily be mistaken for the sister of Hester whose slim figure was engulfed in a deep chair and whose eyes and lips were smiling at Keith Sanders as he stood looking down at her. Ruth was pouring tea. Skid, near the piano, was swaying to the rhythm of the dance music Greg was playing softly.

Ever since the moment twelve nights ago when she had stopped him and Skid in the hall to whisper the news that Annie and her belongings were missing, she had been waiting and hoping for a word from one of them as to what they had discovered about the man whom Madam Steele had shot. She had even given up two evening engagements thinking that Greg would appear at The Castle to tell her what clue he was following, if any. Didn't he know, didn't he care that she was anxious for the solution of the mystery? Seated at the piano now, he appeared engrossed in the soft barcarolle from the "Tales of Hoffman" flowing from the tips of his fingers.

"Oh, night of love." Jewels of sound. What did he know of love?

As if he felt her question he looked up. His eyes met hers and suddenly the room was blotted out. She saw him smiling at her with a question in his eyes. Somewhere outside an automobile horn was sounding. Inside there was low laughter, voices, tinkle of silver on china, a rippling accompaniment of music, but she heard only the pound of her heart and an astonished inner voice declaring over and over;

"I love him! I love him!"

The soft melody was like an irresistible tide sweeping her on. She couldn't stop those words going round and round in her mind, "I love him." The music ended with a crash of chords.

"My signature tune," he said and rose. Immediately Hester was beside him. Linda drew a deep breath as if she had emerged after a long time under water. She resisted an impulse to draw her hand across her dazed eyes.

"Keith, if we intend to reach The Castle in time for dinner we should start at once," she reminded.

"I'm ready. I'm always ready to go with you, Lindy." His look brought the color to her face. She wished now that she were not driving back with him. She had steadfastly refused his kisses, refused to permit an encircling arm. "Miss Puritan New England," he called her now with an edge of sarcasm in his voice. It was getting more and more difficult to hold him off.

"Good night. Mother." She fastened her short beaver jacket "See you all tomorrow. Be sure and arrive in time for tea."

"Hester and I are depending on Greg to get us there, so give him directions," Mrs. Bourne instructed complacently.

"Sorry to revoke," Gregory Merton apologized quickly. "Can't make The Castle till later. I've got to entertain a customer at dinner, Mrs. Bourne. I've arranged with Skid to take you and Hester in his large car with Ruth.'*

"Gregr Angry color rushed to Hester's face. "You can't mean that you're turning us over to SkiddyJ*

"That's the general idea."

"I won't go. I won't go at a//."

"Hester!" reproved her mother half-heartedly. "Of course you'll go."

"Cut the kid stuff, Hester. I'm not crazy to take you, believe it or not. I had other plans. I'm doing this to oblige Greg," Skid Grant explained impatiently.

"I won't go unless I go with him, that's flat."

Linda glanced at Ruth. There was a famt suggestion of a satisfied smile upon her lips. Had she had anything to do with this sudden change of plan? Under cover of showing him the array of gaily decorated packages on the piano, she had talked earnestly to Greg for a moment before she served tea.

"I ask you, what's the matter with me?" Skid Grant's mjured question broke the strained silence. "When I have a balky horse I hold a carrot in front of it and it gets going. Guess you'll have to play carrot, Greg, if we want this gal to join our Christmas party."

"Sorry, it can't be done, Mrs. Bourne."

She rose and laid her hand on his arm.

"I'm sure it can't, Gregory." She patted his arm maternally. 124

"I know that you wouldn't break an engagement with Hester unless you were forced to."

The emphasis on the word Hester sent little chills feathering through Linda's veins. Sounded as if he had committed himself, as if he were practically engaged to her sister.

"I hope you'll not let Hester's obstinacy cheat you out of a grand holiday, Mother," she said, as evenly as she could with her emotions still in a tumult over the discovery of her real feeling toward Gregory Merton. Whom was he taking to dinner tomorrow?

"Oh, I shall go." For once Mrs. Bourne opposed her adored daughter. "What time shall I be ready. Skid?"

"Come on, Hester," Keith Sanders interrupted before Grant could answer. "Of course I haven't Merton's what-have-you, but why not let me pinch hit for him? I'm going alone. Drive up with me, will you?"

The smile which dispelled the sulkiness of her face was like the sun shining through thunderheads.

"I'd love it," she said sweetly. "You're a dear to think of suggesting it."

"Now that a peace pact has been signed and sealed suppose we start, Keith." Linda wondered if the edge in her voice would be construed by the others to mean jealousy. "See you all tomorrow."

Gregory Merton crossed the room and held out his hand. "/4 m revoir. Lovely Lindy."

She wanted to be caught in his arms, to feel his mouth crushing hers. In her mind she was crying out to him, "Gregl Gregl Come with me nowl I love youl" and aloud she was saying gaily:

"Happy evening—^tomorrow, Mr. Merton."

XXIV

ON CHRISTMAS EVE a sliver of gilt moon coasted down the purple-velvet sky and disappeared. The river which had been a shining silver ribbon darkened to polished gun metal and reflected the trembling stars. Port and starboard lights on passing boats sparkled like broken rubies and emeralds on its rippling surface. Tall rows of elms and solitary massive oaks moved skeleton arms in a cold wind. Linda wished she could see the great house from the outside. Every window was can-dlelighted and holly-wreathed.

She pulled the heavy blue-damask hangings in place and looked at the colorful group by the fire at the end of the long library. For some inexplicable reason she had a sudden,

frightened sense that she didn't want time to go on, that she must seize it and hold it back.

Why? Why should she feel apprehensive about persons who had apparently banished their problems and perplexities and were definitely in holiday mood? Even her mother in shimmering silver lame, usually as inarticulate as a dummy model, was laughing as she looked up at Judge Reynolds, baggy of chin and ox-eyed, who appeared amorous rather than judicial as he leaned on the back of her chair. Janet Col-ton's gold frock, Hester's turquoise-blue glinting with silver paillettes, Ruth's orchid velvet and Madam Steele's amethyst satin added rich variety to the kaleidoscope of color which shifted with dramatic effect against the black-and-white of the four men.

Four. The Judge, Keith Sanders, Bill Colton and Skid. Where was Greg? Who was the customer he was entertaining at dinner? Was it a girl?

"Come away from the window, Lindy. You look like a chilly white ghost against the dark background. Gives me a creepy fear that you may vanish into thin air." Keith Sanders' voice banished the heaviness of her spirit.

"Does a ghost have gold stars on its frock or whatever the white thing is it wears?"

"It might have collected a few drifting through space. Where were you when Hester and I arrived this afternoon? I expected you would be on the terrace waving a spray of mistletoe to encourage an affectionate greeting."

"You have such original ideas, Mr. Sanders—Personal Service is missing a sure bet by not engaging you. To return to practical matters, sorry I wasn't on hand to welcome you— with or without mistletoe—I was finishing tying up packages for Madam Steele when Buff told me you had arrived. She showed me her jewels this afternoon. My goo-goo eyes haven't yet returned to their normal size. The diamonds, rubies, emeralds and what-have-you, arranged in flat trays are as im-believably sumptuous as the exhibits in the House of Jewels at the Fair. Remember, when I showed you my sketch of the second floor of this house, that I described two red-lacquer cabinets against the walls of the solarium? They hold the treasure."

"I do. I remember, also, that when I inquired for what they were used you replied snootily, 'I didn't consider it my —your business.' "