Roberta Leigh - In Name Only Page 7

  "Why can't it be like that for us ? " her heart cried out. "Why must he treat me like a stranger ? "

  It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when they returned to their suite, and fleetingly she wondered if Sir Angus had believed Nicholas would make his enforced marriage a real one. Or had the whole preposterous scheme been worked out in the hope that Carole herself would find another man rather than wait for Nicholas to be free? Neither idea seemed logical, and Jane wished for the hundredth time that she had had some inkling of what Sir Angus had been planning, so that she could have begged him not to do it. How much better it would have been if Nicholas had been allowed to marry Carole. Then if the marriage had failed she herself might have stood a chance of being his second choice. As it now was, the moment he was free he would never see her again, and no matter what happened between himself and Carole, he would always see Jane as a schemer who had plotted with his father to gain her own ambition of being his wife.

  She walked over to her bedroom door and with her hand on the knob, turned and looked at him. He was pouring himself a whisky and soda and, aware of her glance, he looked at her irritably. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  "I'm sorry," she apologized, and the conciliatory words she had been about to say died within her. "It's just that I'm surprised to see you drinking so much."

  "That's no business of yours."

  "Perhaps you're right. But I've always considered myself as your - as your friend - and no matter what you think of me now I still want what's best for you."

  Nicholas banged his glass down so violently on the sideboard that the whisky spilled. Then he strode over and gripped her shoulders. "If you'd been a friend of mine you'd never have allowed my father to force me into marrying you."

  "I didn't know about it. It's the truth, Nicholas, I swear it." Their eyes met, his hard and angry; hers brilliant with unshed tears. Then without warning she was close in his arms and his lips were crushing down on hers.

  Jane clung to him as though she were drowning, her whole being filled with joy as she returned his kiss with all the passion of which she was capable. No coherent thoughts marred the delight of this moment, and it came as all the more of a shock when he suddenly pushed her away so hard that she fell back against the door.

  "What is it?" she whispered. "What is it, Nicholas?"

  He turned his back on her and walked over to pick up the glass he had left on the sideboard. "Go to bed, Jane. The evening is over, and so is one day out of the three hundred and sixty-five that I've been forced to live with you."

  CHAPTER V

  Jane looked at the heavy, sombre dining-room and sighed.

  She had returned that morning from the farce which had been her honeymoon, and was now seeing her London home for the first time since her marriage. Although the house itself was large and spacious, the furniture was gloomy and the carpets and curtains dull and colourless. She had gathered from Angus Hamilton when she had first come to his home that �most of the priceless antiques and objects far in the family's possession were in their country home, although now, walking slowly through the cheerless rooms, she saw occasional Sevres vases, shimmering cut-glass and a few pieces of porcelain and Dresden china side by side with ugly bric-a-brac.

  Nicholas had not bothered to come in with her, and after seeing her to the door, drove away. She had been too proud to ask where he was going, and as he had vouchsafed no information, was left to guess that he had gone to Carole.

  The two weeks they had spent together had brought them no nearer to an understanding; in fact, they had spent a good deal of the time apart, Nicholas playing golf and Jane going for solitary walks, although to keep up an appearance of normality, they breakfasted and dined together.

  Jane tramped the countryside, almost oblivious of the beauty around her. The hedgerows were awakening from their winter sleep and tiny white flowers unfurled their buds to the early spring sunshine. Walking along the seashore at other times, her feet sinking into the fine, powdery sand while the wind lifted her hair and the waves broke monotonously, their melancholy murmur matching her own unhappy spirit, her heart cried out in its loneliness, and she was thankful when they were due to return to London.

  Mrs. Macgregor, the housekeeper whom Jane had known since she had first become Sir Angus's secretary, took delight in showing her around the house, and giving her an inventory of everything in the main rooms. If she was surprised at Jane's sudden marriage she was too well trained to show it, though she could not hide her surprise that Jane did not have a personal maid.

  "I wouldn't know what to do with one," Jane admitted.

  "You'd soon learn," the housekeeper said drily.

  "Right now I've much more to learn than coping with a lady's maid!" Indeed the more she saw of the house the more she realised how desperately it needed refurnishing. But this was not a job to which she had any right, and bitter though the acknowledgement was, she knew it must be left to the future and Carole.

  The day passed quickly and she was dressing for dinner when there was a knock at the door and Nicholas came in.

  Her hands trembled so violently she could hardly continue with her make-up.

  "Hello, Nicholas. I didn't know you were home."

  "It didn't seem necessary to tell you."

  She put down her comb with a sharp clatter. "Must you be rude?"

  "There's-no need to keep up a pretence when we're alone’ Although I was forced into marrying you, there was no stipulation in the will about my behaviour! If you wanted to ensure my politeness you should have got my father to say so!"

  "I don't think he thought it necessary. He probably relied on your breeding!" He made no reply, though she saw the blood run up in his face, and forcing herself to speak calmly, she went on: "I don't expect you to believe me, but I give you my word of honour I knew nothing of your father's will. If I'd had any idea - any inkling at all - I

  would have -" She stopped as she saw the disbelief on Ms face, and then burst out: "What's the use of trying to convince you?"

  "I'm glad you realise you can't Incidentally, what time is dinner?"

  "About seven-thirty."

  "You'd better make it nearer eight o'clock. I don't think Carole can get here before then."

  "Carole! Is Carole coming here?"

  "I take it you've no objection?"

  "None at all." Jane's voice was icy. "But as you're so insistent we don't give anyone anything to talk about, I'm rather surprised you invited her on our first night home!"

  Nicholas smiled sardonically. "You needn't fear for our good name. We're giving a quiet dinner to two friends, Carole is bringing John Masters."

  Jane swung round, her voice delighted. "The painter?"

  "Yes." The gleam in Nicholas's eyes grew. "You should have more confidence in me. That's why I suggested you leave the niceties of etiquette to me. I'm far more accustomed to dealing with them than you are!"

  With this crushing remark he walked out, and Jane turned back to the dressing-table. If Nicholas continued to behave so boorishly, the year ahead would be intolerable, and unless he could be made to realise it, she doubted if she would have the strength to go on. She smiled bitterly to herself, realising the futility of attempting to compete with anyone as lovely and assured as Carole. What chance had she of winning the love of a man like Nicholas? But there was no answer reflected in her strained, white face, and with an effort she continued to dress.

  She had just finished twisting the coil of hair around her head when she heard the sound of people arriving, and with a last, hasty glance in the mirror, slowly descended the stairs. Outside the door of the lounge she paused to steady the trembling of her limbs, and after a moment or two managed to regain some semblance of composure before opening the door.

  Carole was standing next to Nicholas, vivid in a dress of emerald green which clung and swayed with every movment. The other guest was an extremely tall, rangy man of about thirty-seven, with a plain yet strangely compelling fa
ce whose large mouth and square, jutting chin was redeemed from ugliness by a pair of fine, shrewd brown eyes.

  John Masters was gazing into the fire when he heard the soft rustle of a dress and turned to see a tall, slim girl in misty white coming towards him. Though completely covered, her skin gleamed like mother of pearl through the material, and her head, with the most wonderful black hair he had ever seen, was held slightly tilted back, giving him a clear view of large grey-green eyes, dilated with nervousness. Watching her stand hesitantly in front of him, apparently so calm and cool, and yet, he sensed, so afraid and unhappy, John Masters felt - for the first time in his life -the sudden stirring of love.

  At that moment Nicholas noticed Jane, and moving over to her, propelled her forward none too gently.

  "Carole you already know, but I don't believe you've met John Masters. Masters, this is Jane - my wife." Feeling he had done his duty, he left her and moved back to Carole.

  Jane paused for a split second and then walked over to the man standing by the fireplace and shyly extended her hand. Masters took it with a smile, secretly amazed at his host's rudeness, for he could hardly credit Nicholas with having quarrelled with his lovely bride so soon. Casting his mind back he recollected having heard surprised comments upon Hamilton's sudden marriage to his late father's secretary, for his name had been so closely linked with Carole's that everyone had assumed they would marry. If he remembered rightly, a number of people Had tried to draw Carole on the subject, but she had skilfully been diplomatic, refusing to show either jealousy or disappointment at not being Nicholas's final choice.

  John Matsers was not a man given to great subtlety. His was a personality based on forthrightness and honesty, and he did not indulge in undue speculations, nor question anyone's right to live their life according to their own moral code, and looking into his eyes, Jane knew immediately that here was a man she could trust, and she breathed a sudden sigh of relief.

  "I'm so glad to meet you, Mr. Masters. I've admired your paintings for years, but never dreamed I'd be able to express my appreciation personally."

  "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Hamilton. I'm always flattered when beautiful women tell me they nice my work!"

  They laughed together at this, and he added: "Did you go to my last show at the Abbott Gallery?" She nodded. "Did you find it interesting ?"

  "Very." She hesitated for a second. "But may I be honest?" He nodded and she said quickly: "Well, I spent a long time studying your pictures, and I felt somehow as if you were searching for something. There was a sadness about your work, especially your landscapes, which struck me very forcibly. Don't misunderstand me," she added hastily, "I'm not criticising your work at all, and your portraits are absolutely wonderful, so full of warmth and life,, but the rest of your pictures——-" Her voice trailed off and he looked at her strangely.

  "You're the first person who's ever said that to me."

  "I'm sorry if I've offended you."

  "On the contrary," he interrupted, "you're quite right." He went on as if he were talking to himself. "When I was young I used to paint because I had to. No matter what happened, painting was the most important thing in my life - it still is to a great extent. But somehow in the past few years I've realised it isn't the all-embracing thing I thought it was. I began to find it didn't fill my life as completely as it did when I was a younger man. I've continued to paint as much as I've always done - I might even say I work harder - but I still feel there are gaps - long periods of time in my life when I'm lonely."

  "But surely you have lots of friends?"

  "Friends, yes." He gave a sigh. "But not the one person I've been searching for."

  "The one person?"

  "Yes. The one woman who will make my life complete." At her startled glance, he added: "I suppose I've surprised you for saying such a thing? Or didn't I strike you as having a romantic soul?"

  "Oh, it was nothing like that! But your tone was so serious, I was surprised for a moment. Do you think you'll know this woman when you meet her?"

  "I'm sure of it. In fact, I know exactly what she looks like."

  "Oh!" Her cry was involuntary. "Then you've already met her?"

  "Yes. Very recently."

  Something in the tone of his voice made her stop, conscious of a slight feeling of embarrassment, as if they had both delved too deeply in too short a time, and with an effort she brought the conversation back to a lighter plane.

  "Then I take it that at your next show the sadness and searching will have disappeared, and your canvases will radiate with happiness!"

  "Whiter than white!" he grinned, "A new influence has come into my life."

  "Influence?" It was Nicholas who spoke. He had moved over to them so quietly that neither of them had been aware of his approach until he was standing by Jane's side.

  "Don't tell me Jane's having an influence on you too? You'd better be careful, Masters, my wife is adept at using flattery to get what she wants."

  Although it was all too easy to realise the implication of his words, Jane did not allow the expression of her face to change.

  "I wouldn't say that, Hamilton," Masters laughed. "Your wife hasn't been trying to get anything out of me!"

  "No?" Nicholas's tone was sarcastic. "Well, perhaps she's satisfied with what she got out of me!"

  Jane moved away from his restraining arm, feeling that she must at all costs break up the conversation. "Shall we have dinner? There's no point in delaying it." Not waiting for a reply, she led the way towards the dining-room.

  The meal remained a nightmare which haunted her for many days to come. Carole and Nicholas talked constantly to each other, with an occasional word to John Masters, but they made no effort to include Jane in their conversation, and talked about first nights and parties and people who, to Jane, were no more than names in the gossip columns of magazines and newspapers. She sat as if frozen, toying mechanically with each well-prepared and beautifully-served course. But every mouthful of food tasted like sawdust, and she was thankful when the meal ended and they returned to the drawing-room for coffee.

  But even this thankfulness was short-lived, for they had .hardly sat down when Carole went across to the radiogram, selected a pile of records and put them on. Then she moved around the room turning down all the lights except one shaded lamp, and held out both arms to Nicholas.

  "Dance with me, Nicky." Her voice was a mere thread of husky sound, and Nicholas stood up and caught her into his arms.

  As they began to circle the room, Jane watched as if mesmerised. She felt a tight band of constriction around her throat and suddenly felt so tired and dispirited that all her energy seemed to wane. How stupid men were! At the moment Nicholas found Carole unattainable, an Alpine flower out of reach, and like a man in search of edelweiss he would strive to get it, heedless of the fact that once within his grasp it would fade and die. Yet Jane realised that to try to make him see this would be useless, for until his infatuation waned he was deaf to all logic, and all she could do was to pray for the strength to be able to stand by him until he returned to his senses.

  She looked up, aware of John Masters' eyes fixed on her.

  "Poor kid," he thought, "there's more in this than I first realised."

  He moved over to her and said kindly: "What about showing me the garden? I love the smell of flowers at night."

  "We haven't flowers yet. Just green shoots!" She smiled tremulously at him and rose with alacrity. They walked over to the French windows and descended four shallow stone steps into the garden, moving slowly across the lawn until they reached a wooden seat built against the far wall, where they sat down without speaking.

  Masters drew out a pipe and filled and lit it in silence, giving her a chance to regain her composure. But when he looked at her some moments later he saw the tears glistening on her dark lashes, and put a large, tender hand on her arm.

  "I shouldn't take a lovers' quarrel as seriously as all that if I were you."

  She t
urned her face towards him. "A lovers' quarrel! If only it were that…"

  The man puffed at his pipe for a few moments. "Would you like to tell me about it ? I'm the soul of discretion!"

  As if his kindness unleashed Jane's reserve, she found herself telling this comparative stragger all that had transpired since Angus Hamilton's death, unbelievably, she was able to speak of things she would have found difficult to talk about even to her parents, and she did not spare herself or Nicholas in the telling.

  "And so," she concluded, "you know the whole story. Although Nicholas seems determined to avoid outside publicity, he doesn't seem to care what he does in our home. You see," she went on fiercely, "I'm nobody! I'm just the person who's stopped him from marrying Carole for a year - my thoughts and feelings don't count - it's only Carole, always Carole! How I hate her!"

  With a shudder she burst into tears, and John, Masters took her gently into his arms and held her until she had quietened. She remained for a long time with her head against his shoulder, feeling the comfort and warmth of his nearness and wishing with all her heart that it was Nicholas who held her.

  Masters was the first to move. "We'd better go in, or you'll catch cold."

  She moved towards the French windows, but he stopped her. 'No, not that way. Isn't there another door we can use? Don't let them see you've been crying."

  Without a word she led him through a narrow side door and up a short flight of steps into the hall. At the foot of the stairs they paused, and he noticed that in the subdued light she looked pale and tired.

  "Run up to bed, my dear, and try not to worry too much. Things never look quite so bad in the morning."

  Her large eyes filled again with tears and he bent and tenderly kissed her forehead, then watched her slowly mount the stairs and heard her soft "Good-night".

  He remained immobile until she had disappeared, a rueful smile coming to his lips as he acknowledged to himself the ironical blow which Fate had just dealt him. He was in love with a girl madly in love with a husband who, by all accounts, did not even know she existed!

  He shrugged his shoulders. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He would have to play the game out according to the cards and hope that perhaps some time in the future she might turn to him. ‘I’lll then he would just be her friend, ready to do anything she asked, no matter what it cost him.