(1941) Up at the Villa Page 8

  `What is the good of that if I'm not?’

  `Don't you think the better people think you are the better you're liable to become? You know, he's got many excellent qualities, your Edgar; they've got him where he is. But if you don't mind my saying so, he's got a certain obstinate stupidity; and that also has helped him. Without it he wouldn't be the big noise he is. You're asking something right out of his line when you're asking him to understand the labyrinth of a woman's sensibility.’

  `If he loves me enough he will.’

  `Very well, my dear, have it your own way. He's not the sort of cove I should want to marry if I were a woman, but if you've set your heart on him I suppose you must. But if you want to make a good job of it, take my advice and - emulate the clam.’

  He gave a little chuckle, touched her hand lightly and with his jaunty step strolled away. The thought occurred to her that she might possibly never see him again. It gave her a slight pang. Funny he should have asked her to marry him. She had to smile at his dismay if she had taken him seriously and said she would.

  8

  IT was about four next afternoon when Nina came out to Mary, again sitting in the garden and seeking to distract her mind by working on a piece of tapestry, and told her that Edgar Swift was on the telephone. He had just arrived at his hotel and wanted to know if he could see Mary. She had not known at what time his plane would get in, and had been waiting for him since luncheon. She sent the message that she would be glad to see him whenever he cared to come. Her heart began to beat a trifle hurriedly. She took out her looking-glass from her bag and looked at herself. She was pale, but she did not put on any rouge, since she knew he did not much like it; she dabbed the powder-puff over her face and painted her lips. She was wearing a light summer dress, of yellow linen with a wallpaper design; it looked so simple that you would have thought a housemaid might have worn it, but it had been made by the best dressmaker in Paris. Presently she heard the car drive up and a moment or two later Edgar appeared. She got up from her chair and advanced to greet him. As usual he was dressed perfectly as became his age and station. It was a pleasure to look at him as he strode along the strip of lawn; he was so tall and slim; he held himself so erect. He had removed his hat: his thick black hair shone with the oil he had put on to keep its wave set. His fine blue eyes below the thick eyebrows wore a friendly gleam; his fine, spare features no longer had the sternness which was his habitual expression, but were softened by a happy smile. He warmly clasped her hand.

  `How cool and fresh you look, and as pretty as a picture.’

  Mr. Atkinson had used that hackneyed phrase every time he saw her. Mary, faintly tickled to hear it from Edgar, sup. posed it was what gentlemen of a certain age always said to women much younger than themselves.

  `Sit down and Nina will bring us some tea. Did you have a nice trip?’

  `I'm so very glad to see you again,' he said.

  `It seems a century since I went away.’

  `It hasn't been very long.’

  `Luckily. I knew exactly what you'd be doing all the time. I knew where you'd be at such and such an hour and I followed you from place to place with my thoughts.’

  Mary faintly smiled.

  `I should have thought you were much too busy.’

  `I was busy, of course; I had a couple of long talks with my Minister and I think we've settled everything. I'm to sail at the beginning of September. He was very decent to me. He didn't conceal from me that it was a difficult job, though of course I knew that when I accepted it, but he said that was why they wanted me. I don't want to bore you with the compliments he paid me, but...’

  `I want to hear. I shan't be bored’

  `Well, he said that owing to the particular circumstances, it was important to put a man there who was conciliatory and at the same time firm, and he was good enough to say that he knew no one who combined those qualities to so high a degree as I do.’

  `I'm sure he was right’

  `Anyhow it was very flattering. You see, Ire had a long fight and it's satisfactory to find oneself pretty near the top of the tree at last. It's a big job and an important one. It'll give me a chance to show what I can do, and between you and me and the gatepost, I think I can do a great deal.’

  He hesitated for an instant 'And if I do as well as I hope, and as they hope, it may lead to even higher things.’

  `You're very ambitious, aren't you?’

  `I suppose I am. I like power and I'm not afraid of responsibility. I have certain gifts, and I'm glad of the opportunity to make the most of them.’

  `There was a Colonel Trail at dinner the other night. He said that if you made a success in Bengal, there was no reason why you shouldn't become Viceroy.’

  A gleam came into Edgar's bold eyes.

  `Governor-General, they call him now. I imagine that's within the bounds of possibility. They made Willingdon Viceroy, and a damned good Viceroy he was.’

  They had finished tea and he put down his cup.

  `You know, Mary, that the pleasure with which I'm looking forward to all this activity, and the honour that's attached to it, wouldn't mean half so much to me if I weren't hoping that you'd share it with me.’

  Her heart stood still. The moment had come. To calm herself she lit a cigarette. She did not look at him, but she felt that his eyes, tenderly smiling, were fixed upon her.

  `You promised to give me my answer when I came back.’

  He chuckled.

  `The fact that I chartered a plane this morning to fly over here is proof that I'm impatient to have it. She threw away the cigarette she had just lit. She gave a little sigh.

  `Before we go any further I've got something to tell you. Tin. afraid it'll bitterly distress you. Please listen to me without saying anything. Anything you've got to say, any questions you've got to ask me, you can say later.’

  His face on a sudden hardened and he looked at her sharply.

  `I'll say nothing.’

  `I don't have to tell you that I'd give anything in the world to hold my tongue, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be honest. You must know the facts and then do what you think fit.’

  `I'm listening.’

  Once again she told the long painful story which the day before she had told Rowley. She omitted nothing. She tried neither to exaggerate nor to minimize. But it was harder to tell it to Edgar. He listened without a movement. His face was set and stem. No flicker in his eyes showed what he was thinking. She was conscious as she spoke that her behaviour seemed more senseless and wanton than it had done when she was telling Rowley what had happened. She found it impossible to give her motives even a plausible air, some of the incidents appeared incredible and her heart sank as she imagined that perhaps he was not believing her. And now she realized that there was something peculiarly shocking in Rowley and her having placed the body in a car and taken it to hide in a sequestered spot in the hills. She still didn't know what else she could have done to avoid a fearful scandal and heaven only knew what difficulties with the police. But it was so fantastic that anything like that should happen to people like her that it didn't seem to belong to real life; it was the kind of thing that happened to one in a nightmare. At last she finished. Edgar sat quite still for a little while without saying a word, then he got up and began to pace to and fro across the green patch. His head was bent, he had his hands clasped behind his back, and on his face was a dark, sullen look that she had never seen on it before. He looked strangely older. At last he stopped still in front of her. He looked down at her and there was a painful smile on his lips, but his voice was so tender that it wrung her heart.

  `You must forgive me if I'm rather taken aback. You see, you're the last woman I should ever have expected to do anything like this. I knew you when you were the most innocent, charming child; it seems incredible that you of all people...’

  He stopped, but she knew what he had in mind; it seemed incredible that she of all people should have become the mistress of a casual vagabond.r />
  `I have no excuses to make for myself.’

  `I'm afraid I think you've been very foolish.’

  `Worse.’

  `We need not go into that. I think I love you enough to understand and to forgive.’

  There was a break in that strong man's voice, but his smile was indulgent and gentle.

  `You're a romantic, silly little thing. I can quite believe that what you did after that man killed himself seemed the only thing to do in the circumstances. It was an awful risk you took, but it appears to have panned out all right. The fact is, you badly need a man to look after you.’

  She looked at him doubtfully.

  `Do you still want to marry me now that you know everything?' He hesitated, but for so brief a moment that to anyone but Mary it would have been unnoticeable.

  `You surely didn't think I was going to leave you in the lurch? I couldn't do that, Mary dear.’

  `I feel terribly ashamed of myself.’

  `I want you to marry me. I will do everything I can to make you happy. Career isn't everything. After all, I'm not so young as I was. I've done a good deal for the country; there's no reason why I shouldn't sit back now and let younger men have a chance' She stared at him with sudden perplexity.

  `What do you mean?' He sat down again and took her hands in his.

  `Well, darling, you see this does alter things a bit. I couldn't take on this job; it wouldn't be fair. If the facts leaked out the effects might very well be disastrous.’

  She was aghast.

  `I don't understand’

  `Don't bother about it, Mary dear. I'll telegraph to the Minister to say that I'm going to be married and so can't go to India. I can make your health a very reasonable pretext. I can't offer you quite the same position as rd hoped, but there's no reason why we shouldn't have a very good time. We can take a house on the Riviera. I've always wanted a boat of my own. We can have a lot of fun sailing about and fishing.’

  `But you can't throw everything up just when you're reaching the top of the tree. Why should you?’

  `Listen to me, dear. It's a very ticklish job I've been offered; it needs all my intelligence and all my serenity. I should always have the anxiety that something might be discovered. You're not at an advantage to make a calm and considered judgment when you're standing on the crater of a volcano.’

  `What can be discovered now?’

  `Well, there's the revolver. The police could find out if they took the trouble that it had belonged to me.’

  `I dare say they could. I've thought of that. It might be that the man had taken it out of my bag at the restaurant.’

  `Yes, I have no doubt one could think of a variety of plausible ways how he might have got hold of it. But there'd have to be explanations, and I can't afford to have it necessary to make explanations. I don't want to put on any frills, but I'm not the sort of man to tell a pack of lies. And then it's not only your secret It's Rowley Flint's as well.’

  `You can't suppose for a moment that he'd ever give me away!’

  `That's just what I can suppose. He's an unscrupulous scamp. An idler. A waster. He's just the sort of man that I have no use for. How do you know what he'll do when he's had a couple? It's too good a story to waste. He'll tell it in confidence to some woman. He'll tell one and then he'll tell another, and before you know where you are it'll be all over London. Believe me, it won't take long then to reach India,’

  `You're wrong, Edgar. You misjudge him. I know he's wild and reckless, if he hadn't been he'd never have taken that risk to save me, but I know I can trust him. He'll never give me away. He'd rather die first.’

  `You don't know human nature as I do. I tell you he hasn't got it in him to resist telling the story.’

  `But if you think that, it would be just the same if you'd retired or not., 'There might be a lot of gossip, but if I'm in a private position what does it matter? We can snap our fingers at it. But it would be very different if I were Governor of Bengal. After all, what you did is a criminal offence. For all I know it's extraditable. It would be a fine chance for an unfriendly Italy to sling mud. Has it occurred to you that you might be accused of killing the man yourself?' He stared at her so sternly that she shuddered.

  `I've got to play fair,' he went on.

  `The Government has trusted me and I've never let them down. In the position they want to put me in it's essential that nothing can be said about my character or my wife's. Our situation in India largely depends now on the prestige of its administrators. If I had to resign in disgrace it might be the occasion of the most serious events. It's no good arguing, Mary; I must do what I'm convinced is right.’

  His tone had gradually changed and his voice was as harsh as his expression was stern. Mary saw now the man who was known all through India not only for his administrative ability but for his ruthless determination. Watching every line of his grim face, intent on the flicker of his eyes which might disclose his real feelings to her, she sought to discern his inmost thoughts. She knew very well that he had been shattered by her confession. He was incapable of sympathy for such outrageous, such shocking behaviour. She had destroyed his belief in her and he would never again feel quite sure of her. But he was not the man to take back the offer he had made. When of her own free will she had told him what she might easily have kept to herself, he could do nothing but respond to her frankness with generosity; he was prepared to sacrifice his career and the chance of making a great name for himself, to marry her; and she had an inkling that he took something like a bitter joy in the prospect of such a sacrifice, not because he loved her so much that it was worth while, but because his sacrifice heightened his pride in himself. She knew him well enough to know that he would never reproach her because on her account he had had to give up so much; but she knew also that with his energy, his passion for work and his ambition, he would never cease to regret his lost opportunities. He loved her and it would be a cruel disappointment not to marry her, but she had something more than a suspicion that now he would give her up, however unhappily, if it were humanly possible to do so without a surrender of his self-respect. He was the slave of his own integrity. Mary lowered her eyes so that he should not see the faint gleam of amusement in them. Strangely enough, the situation struck her as slightly diverting. For she knew now, quite definitely, that whatever the circumstances, even if nothing had happened that he need be afraid of, even if he were made Governor-General of India tomorrow, she didn't want to marry him. She was attached to him, she was grateful because he had taken the unhappy incidents she had felt bound to tell him so kindly, and if she could help it she did not want to hurt his feelings. She must go warily. If she said the wrong thing he would grow obstinate; he was quite capable of overruling her objections and marrying her almost by main force. Well, if the worst came to the worst, she would have to sacrifice whatever remained of the good opinion he had of her. It was not very pleasant, but it might be necessary; and if then he thought the worst of her, well, that would make it the easier for him. With a sigh she thought of Rowley-, how much easier it was to deal with an unscrupulous scamp like that! Whatever his faults, he was not afraid of the truth. She pulled herself together.

  `You know, Edgar dear, it would make me miserable to think that I'd ruined this distinguished career of yours.’

  `I hope you'd never give it a thought. I promise you that when I'd retired into private life I shouldn't’

  `But we oughtn't only to think of ourselves. You're the man for this particular job. You're needed. It's your duty to take it regardless of your personal feelings.’

  `I'm not so conceited as to think I'm indispensable, you know.

  `I've got such a very great admiration for you, Edgar. I can't bear the thought of you deserting your post when your presence is so necessary. It seems so weak.’

  He gave a little uncomfortable movement and she felt that she had caught him on the raw.

  `There's nothing else to do. It would be even more dishonourable to accept
the position under the circumstances.’

  `But there is something else to be done. After all, you're not obliged to marry me.’

  He gave her a look so fleeting that she could not be sure what it meant. He knew that, of course, and did that look mean: Good God, if I could only get out of it, don't you think I would? But he had great control over his expression and when he answered his lips were smiling and his eyes were tender.

  `But I want to marry you. There's nothing in the world I want more.’

  Oh, well then, she'd got to take her medicine.

  `Edgar dear, I'm very fond of you. I owe so much to you; you're the greatest friend I've ever had. I know how splendid you are, how true and kind and faithful; but I don't love you.’

  `Of course I know that I'm a great many years older than you. I realize that you couldn't love me in quite the same way as you'd love a fellow of your own age. I was hoping that, well, the advantages I had to offer would in some measure compensate for that. I'm dreadfully sorry that what I have to offer you now isn't perhaps so much worth your accepting.’

  God, how difficult he was making it! Why couldn't he have said right out that she was a slut and he'd see her damned before he married her? Well, there was the cauldron of boiling oil; there was nothing to do but to shut one's eyes and jump right in.

  `I want to be quite frank with you, Edgar. When you were going to be Governor of Bengal, you would have had a lot of work and I should have had a lot too; after all, I'm human and the position was dazzling; it seemed enough if I liked you. We should have had so many interests in common, it didn't seem to matter if I wasn't in love with you.’

  Now the most difficult part was coming.

  `But if we’re just going to live a quiet life on the Riviera, with nothing much to do from morning till night, well. I think the only thing that would make it possible would be if I were as much in love with you as you are with me.’

  `I'm not set on the Riviera. We could live anywhere you liked.’