Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love Page 4

  Her resolution to be rid of him weakened. "Very well. Where shall I meet you?"

  There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "We'd better say the Dorchester this time!"

  She held out her hand. "Goodnight. See you tomorrow."

  Alone in the darkness of the cab, Matthew took a small black box from his pocket. He snapped it open and morosely stared at the large diamond. Then with an exclamation of anger he closed the lid and put it away.

  When Stella went into the kitchen for breakfast next morning Adrian greeted her with a bow.

  "Good-morning, lass. Matthew Armstrong is a grand lad. Right grand!"

  "That's not very funny," she said icily.

  "I was only trying to bring back romantic memories for you!" He grinned. "Matter of fact, he's not all that bad. And he has what counts, hasn't he? Lovely lolly."

  Stella poured herself some coffee. "Has it struck you that I might like him?"

  "No."

  "That's enough, Adrian," Mrs. Percy intervened, and looked at her daughter. "I'm having lunch with Joan Crawley. Will you come with me?"

  "I've got a date."

  "With a grand lad who shall be nameless?" Adrian asked, and laughingly escaped from the room before Stella could grab him.

  Mrs. Percy waited until he was out of earshot. "I thought you weren't going out with that unsufferable man any more."

  "I won't be seeing him after today, so you needn't worry."

  "That's something to be thankful for. I mean it for your good, Stella, not for mine."

  But sitting beside Matthew at lunch Stella realized just how difficult it would be to tell him she didn't intend seeing him again. He seemed in an especially festive mood and was wearing a light grey suit that made him look younger and more attractive. Logically she thought he was much better-looking than she remembered. Away from him she only recalled the things she disliked; with him she could see his good points — his fine, leonine head with its crest of dark, greying hair, the kindly blue eyes that held so much candour and the firm, wide mouth and determined chin.

  He put down the menu and caught her gaze. "I couldn't sleep all last night for thinking of you."

  "What a waste of time," she said lightly.

  "I'd rather be the judge of that. You're very lovable."

  "I'm not in the least lovable. Don't endow me with qualities I haven't got." She looked at her plate. "The food's getting cold."

  "I can take a hint! But there's something I want to say and you cant put me off indefinitely!"

  The meal over, they sauntered into Hyde Park and he tucked her arm in his. A pale wintry sun shone out of a watery sky and the bare trees offered no protection from the wind. Matthew increased their pace, and as they walked Stella's cheeks began to glow and he felt a throb of satisfaction to have her by his side in the open air instead of in the overheated atmosphere of a restaurant. She should get into the country more often and have plain wholesome food to put some fat on her bones. His Stella was too brittle-looking, too fine-strung and fragile. He put out a hand to touch a wisp of hair that was blowing against her cheek and she looked at him quickly, the colour in her face deepening at the ardour in his gaze.

  "Let's sit down now we're warmer." He guided her along a side path to a bench and settled himself with deliberation. "You know I've been coming to London to see you, and I'm going to put my cards on the table. I've not led the life of a saint — I'm a man and I needn't say more — but there comes a time when you want one particular woman to be your wife and the mother of your children, and I want you. I love you, Stella, and I want to marry you."

  Stella wished the ground would open and swallow her. Why, oh why hadn't she listened to her mother and stopped seeing him long ago? To refuse him now was so much more cruel than if she had never allowed him to fall in love with her in the first place. Yet he had no right to read so much into a few brief meetings.

  "Well sweetheart?" He went to take her in his arms but she moved away.

  "No, Matthew, don't! I — I'm sorry you've said what you have. I like you and I enjoy being with you — but I can't marry you."

  "If you're thinking of last night —"

  "It has nothing to do with last night. It's just that I don't love you."

  "Are you in love with someone else. Is it Charles?"

  "He can't afford to marry," she prevaricated.

  "Do you love him?" he repeated.

  She hesitated. To say a firm yes would stop Matthew from repeating his proposal. Yet he had been too honest with her, for her to lie to him. "I like him very much," she admitted. "Our families have been friends for years, but there's never been anything violent in our feelings for each other."

  "I couldn't have known you for long without it being violent," Matthew said dryly.

  She flushed. "I didn't think you were so susceptible."

  "I'm not. Except where you're concerned." He caught her by the shoulders. "Oh Stella, don’t you know how beautiful you are? With your dark eyes and your soft hair and that cold mouth that isn't a bit cold when you kiss it."

  "Matthew don't! You're imagining things" about me."

  "I'm not. I know, you better than you know yourself. Don't turn me down, lass. We could have a great life together. I'd help your brother and do everything to make you happy. I love you, Stella, I won't take no for an answer."

  "You must!" She pulled out of his grasp and stood up. "I can't marry you. I don't love you."

  "You haven't given yourself a chance. You're afraid of me."

  With a suddeness that took her by surprise he rose and drew her close again, his mouth covering hers before she had a chance to protest. But even in passion he was gentle, his lips soft and tender, caressing her in soft movements that allayed all her fears.

  "You see?" he said huskily, drawing slowly away. "If you could stop being afraid of me… if you could let yourself go…" He took her arm and drew It through his. "I’m going to ask you once more, Stella. Not now, don't look so frightened, but in a little while. Until I do… think about it!"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stella found it surprisingly difficult to forget Matthew. She saw Charles frequently during the next few weeks and found him so dull by comparison that she wondered whether he was incapable of passion or was merely subduing it because it was the conventional thing to do.

  Christmas came and went and Stella was chagrined that there was no word from Matthew, not even a card. Although she had refused to marry him, it was mortifying that he had not come down to ask her again, nor cared sufficiently to remember her at Christmas. So much for his protestations of love!

  January drew to a close and Charles found Adrian a job in the city. At first Mrs. Percy was afraid he might leave it, but he gradually settled down, and after a few weeks informed them he had been given a raise, Indeed, he became so lavish with money, that Stella remonstrated with him.

  "I don't want you buying me such things," she said, staring hopelessly at a flimsy negligee, his latest and most exotic gift. "You should save your money, not waste it on me."

  "There's plenty more where this comes from," he said" airily. "And I like buying you things. You and Ma haven't had it easy, and if I can make it up to you, I will."

  "We'd be happier if you saved it," she persisted. "If you had some capital behind you, you could study music if you still wanted to."

  "Forget that one," he said sharply. "I'm a working boy now. On the first rung of the ladder and all set to climb."

  "Not too quickly," she said before she could stop herself, "or you might fall!"

  I’ll always have you to pick me up!" He ruffled her hair. "Stop fussing, Stel. I'm not a baby."

  But Stella's unease did not abate. If anything it grew worse. Adrian had changed a lot during the last few months. His ties were too loud, his hair too long, and his occasional lapses into the vernacular more and more lurid — an indication of the people with whom he was associating.

  Her fears were justified when she came home one night
and found him sprawled on the downstairs step, too drunk to move.

  She half pulled, half dragged him into the kitchen. "Where have you been to get in this state?" she demanded.

  He grinned vacuously. "Out"

  "

  "Where?"

  "That’s my business. Going to bed. I'm tired." He stood up, then sat down abruptly with a look of comical surprise. "I shay, can't walk."

  "I don't wonder. You're drunk."

  He giggled and put his head down on the kitchen" table. Stella stared at him helplessly. The only remedy she knew was strong black coffee, and she went to the stove and made him some, rousing him to drink it

  An hour later he was looking at her sheepishly over an empty pot

  "Now then," she said sharply, "tell me where you’ve been and with whom."

  "To the Golden Lamp with some friends."

  "What were you doing?"

  His eyes lowered, hidden by his lids. "Nothing much. One or two deals."

  "What sort of deals?"

  "Cars — radios — you know the sort of thing. I sell 'em."

  "Where do you get them from?"

  "Friends. They let me have them at a special price and I sell them around. It's money for jam."

  She moistened lips that Were dry with fear. "And where do your friends get these cars and radios — from other peoples garages?"

  "You're out of your mind! They're not stolen."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Course I am. They're factory rejects!"

  "You mean they're stolen from the factories!"

  -Adrian jumped up. "I've had enough. I'm going to bed."

  "Not till I've finished." Stella was in front of him, barring his way. "You can go to prison for dealing in stolen goods. What's the matter with you, Adrian? You've got a good job and —"

  "A good job! Do you call slogging in an office a good job?"

  "Not all your friends were rich. What about the ones who've gone to university? I bet most of them are living on grants."

  "There's a difference between a hard-up student and a hard-up clerk!"

  "The only difference is in your mind."

  "Come off it: At least if you're a student you have a future. But what's my future going to be?" He checked himself. "I'm sorry, Stel, I know things haven't been easy for you either. We both wanted the same thing and I've no more right to grumble than you have."

  "If only I could help you," she said. "Even if I got a job, by the time we've paid someone to look after the flat, there'd be nothing much left over."

  "Ma could do it," Adrian said in sarcastic tones. "I'm sure she'd love to."

  "Mother was brought up to a different way of life." Stella resolutely refused to concur with her brother. "She's too old to change now. But you're not! Face facts and make the best of them."

  "That's exactly what I am doing! I'm not cut out to be a clerk, and if I can't get to the top I'd rather —"

  "End up in prison!" There was an ugly silence. sorry," Stella said at last, "but I'm trying to mate you see sense."

  "There's no sense in anything," Adrian's voice was unsteady. "The wrong people have money." He opened the door. "Goodnight Sis."

  Lying wakeful in bed, Stella faced the ugly truth. Adrian was a weakling. Unable to pursue his real ambition, he would look for an easy way to make money, regardless of where it led him. Yet what right did she have to condemn him when she was equally as weak? If she had-been more determined she Could have made a .career for herself instead of wistfully waiting for a better tomorrow. As if a better tomorrow ever came! No, if one wanted something, one had to fight for it. It was the only way.

  But Adrian would not fight His behaviour had shown that all too clearly, and a shady deal and a few shady friends would soon develop into something worse. If only he had more spirit, a little of what Matthew called guts.

  Even as she asked herself what she could do, the answer stared her in the face. With a brother-in-law like Matthew, Adrian would have the financial ballast he needed. But how could she marry a man she did not love?”

  She switched on the light and sat up. If it had not been for her mother her feelings for Matthew might have developed. Yet it had been easier for her to send him away than face a barrage of criticism every time she saw him. She remembered the last time they had met: even now the thought made her shiver. Yes, she desired Matthew, but because he had a different outlook and background she despised herself for wanting him instead of Charles.

  The thought of Charles brought her to a mental halt. Her marriage to another man would be a terrible blow to his pride. But would anything except his pride be hurt? Charles looked on marriage as an eventuality to be considered with Caution. Matthew wanted her tempestuously and needed her to make him happy. If she married him, perhaps love would come later.

  Impulsively she went to the writing desk in the corner of her room. Every day counted with Adrian, and if she was going to marry Matthew it would have to be soon. Picking up a pen, she began to write.

  "It's a long time since I've heard from you and I hope you are well. It's cold here at the moment and you are wise to stay at home, as there's nothing worse than the impersonality of a hotel in winter. I shall always be pleased to see you when you come to London, and perhaps you will let me know when you do.

  Yours,

  Stella

  Was she saying too much or not enough — would he read between the lines or merely think she was writing for politeness' sake? But she could not bring herself to be more explicit. If he had any perception he would know what she was trying to say.

  To her chagrin, her letter to Matthew did not bring the immediate reply she had expected, and as the days turned into a week she decided he no longer wanted her. So much for her self-sacrifice!

  There was little to occupy her apart from running the flat, and though she indulged in an orgy of cleaning, by early afternoon of each day her chores were done and she would practice her music and brood on the opportunities lost to her and Adrian through lack of money and —even more galling — lack of perseverance.

  One Sunday afternoon nearly a fortnight later, she sat at the piano, the curtains drawn against the quick descent of night. The standard lamp was lit, shedding a pool of light above the music as her fingers moved over the keys, the calm flow of a Brahms sonata lulling her into placidity until she struck the last note.

  "It's the first time I've heard you play, lass."

  She swung round to see Matthew in the centre of the room. "I didn't hear you arrive!''

  "Adrian let me in." He drew off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pocket. "I'll put this in the hall."

  When he came back she was standing in front of the fire. "Have you had tea?"

  "Never ask a Yorkshire man that. I'd love a cup!"

  "I'll make you some. Sit down and get warm."

  She was buttering the toast when she felt someone watching her and turned to see him in the kitchen doorway.

  "Can I help?"

  "No, thanks." She spoke quickly and nervously. "It's all finished except for the tea."

  "Shall I warm the pot?"

  "I'll do it. Do you like it strong or weak?"

  "As it comes."

  He watched in silence as she set the teapot on the trolley. "Let me wheel it for you."

  He trundled it out and she followed him across the hall, thinking how ludicrous he looked lumbering over the squeaky old contraption. In the living room he sat in front of the fire and helped himself liberally to the toast.

  "Damn cold coming down in the tram," he said, munching heavily. "The heat was going full blast but it made no difference."

  "It's always the next door carriage that's warm!”

  "You've got something there." He stretched his legs to the fire and looked at her squarely. "I got your letter. That's why I came down."

  She stood up nervously and reached for a cigarette. "Will you smoke?" He accepted one and lit them both in silence. "Matthew, I —" she broke off and inh
aled, playing for time. "Isn't there something you want to ask me again?"

  "If I do it will be for the last time. I said I'd ask you twice and I will, but there won't be a third time with me." He stood up and almost blocked oat the fire with- his bulk, his sturdy figure outlined against the glow, his blunt head thrown back. "Will you marry me, Stella?"

  She took a deep breath. "Yes, Matthew, I will!"

  "That's a load off my mind!"

  He moved- towards her, but she shook her head. "No, please sit down, I want to talk to you first" - "There's plenty of time for talking later. Anyway, I know most of the things you want to say."

  "You can't"

  He smiled. "I'm no fool, Stella. You want to tell me you aren't sure you love me. You also want to say that while you're not exactly marrying me for my money, you wouldn't marry me if I had nothing, and that although helping Adrian isn't a condition of marriage, if it weren't necessary to help him there'd be no marriage."

  Aghast, she stared at him. Had she been so obvious? So easy to see through?

  "Don't took so surprised," he said, "I'm a business man, Stella. I don't need to have all my't's crossed!"

  Unable to stop herself she began to cry. For a few moments Matthew left her alone, then he knelt by her-side and gently stroked her hair.

  "Don't fret, lass, you haven't disillusioned me."

  "But to think you've known all along and still want to marry me!" She cried harder but he said nothing, waiting for her to blow her nose and dry her eyes. "I'm sorry, Matthew, I must look a sight Forgive me for making such a fool of myself."

  'I'd 'like to think you were crying because you thought you'd made a fool of me.?'

  The shaft went home and she bit her lip. "How can you still want me, knowing the sort of person I am?"

  "I've been asking myself that ever since I met you!" His face sobered and he caught her hand. "I love you because you're honest, and one ,day. I think you'll love me for the same reason. I don't believe you would marry a man you didn't like no matter what the circumstances were, and if you like me enough to marry me, I'm satisfied a deeper feeling will come later. A lot of marriages start off well, but the glamour doesn't last and something goes wrong. Well, there'll be no false glamour to tarnish in our marriage, and if I make you happy you'll grow to love me."