But Not For Me Page 18

  Right at the end, on being questioned about the future, Marta had stated very definitely that she had no immediate intention of returning to the London stage. She was going away “somewhere quiet” in order to recover her “emotional and nervous balance.”

  Ariane raised her head and gazed thoughtfully in front of her. She was not concerned with the problem of Marta’s restored balance—either emotional or nervous. She was wondering with sudden acute misgiving whether Norchester might be described as “somewhere quiet.”

  For a moment, Ariane was sorely tempted to tear up the paper and thrust it away where Harvey would not see it. But almost immediately she realized what an absurd impulse that was. After all, you couldn’t go about destroying the property of a hotel reading-room, simply because you were frightened of your husband knowing the truth.

  Whether or not Harvey saw the paper, in the end, she never knew. At any rate, he made no comment about it. And three days later, he and Ariane left for home.

  She supposed it was ridiculous that her spirits bounded up so eagerly, and she tried to tell herself it was the thought of her mother and Julie which lightened her heart so much. But she knew perfectly well it was even more because she hoped that her relations with Harvey would be easier and happier when they were in familiar surroundings once more.

  It was delightful, that first sight of home again as they turned the bend in the drive. Then the door flew open and Julie precipitated herself down the steps, to fling her arms round Ariane and kiss her. And there was Mother, hurrying out, too. As Ariane ran to her, she heard Julie say politely to Harvey:

  “I’ll kiss you too, if you like. After all, we are related.”

  “Oh, Mother darling!” Ariane hugged her ecstatically, and then turned in time to see Harvey gravely bending for Julie’s kiss as he said :

  “Since you say it is perfectly proper, my mind is quite at rest.”

  Then he greeted Mrs. Dobson, and they all went into the house.

  It was all so much like the safe, familiar, pre-marriage days that Ariane could have laughed with sheer relief. And Harvey, she noticed, seemed to enjoy the atmosphere too.

  After tea, she drove down with him to his own home, and, at her suggestion, they went round by way of their future home, to see how building was progressing.

  Apparently everything had gone on very smoothly, because a good deal more progress had been made than either of them had expected. And Ariane was touched and pleased at the surprised delight Harvey showed.

  “Look, Ariane!” He took her arm, and led her round to the other side of the building. “I’d no idea they were going to make such an attractive thing of this covered walk.”

  Ariane privately thought it looked a bit like a builder’s yard still, but she agreed enthusiastically that one could see how nice it was going to be.

  “Then here, too—” He insisted on going all over the skeleton building, discussing its future beauties. And though Ariane thought the place delightful, it was far more delightful to her to see that happy, almost childlike excitement of ownership which sat so oddly on Harvey’s rather grim face.

  “Perhaps it’s going to be all right, after all,” she told herself wistfully. And then, at the extreme familiarity of that thought, she wondered how often she was to hope that, and how often be disappointed.

  In the end, it was she who had to remind him that probably his family were expecting them. And, even then, he came away with a reluctant, backward glance which she thought was one of the nicest things she had ever seen in Harvey.

  Their arrival at the Muldanes’ home was not quite the tempestuous affair that Julie’s welcome had been. Evidently no one had heard them drive up, and Harvey let them in with his own key.

  While he went at once to his father’s study, Ariane went in search of Sally—not because she felt so much eagerness to see her, but because she reflected that Sally had better exhaust her inquisitive inquiries on herself, rather than irritate Harvey with them.

  Sally was in the library. Ariane heard her voice as soon as she approached the door.

  “It isn’t as though Harvey’s in the least fond of her,” she was saying. And Ariane stopped dead.

  There was an indistinguishable murmur from Maurice, which was presumably some form of protest, because Sally retorted sharply:

  “Don’t be absurd. You know as well as I do that he just married Ariane out of pique. Of course she’s a nice girl, and of course he thinks he’ll make do with her. Men are so silly. They talk vaguely of settling down and having a home as though it’s some sort of spell. But I wouldn’t give much for Harvey’s settling down and home-making, the moment that hussy begins on him again. If you’re not worried at seeing her car here, I am. And I don’t mind betting that Ariane will lose some sleep over it too.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  Ariane stood where she was for a moment, very white and breathing rather quickly, as though she had been running. Then she turned and went along to old Mr. Muldane’s study. She would go in there with Harvey, after all. She couldn’t face Sally and Maurice just now. Not when they had been discussing her like that.

  And Marta! Marta was here in Norchester already. She couldn’t pretend it was anything of a surprise. It was merely the obvious thing to happen. But oh, how she hated to think of yet another step in this ignominious struggle.

  Mr. Muldane greeted her very kindly—took her face in his hands and kissed her, rather as though she were his own daughter, and told her she looked prettier than ever.

  It comforted Ariane and made her remember how he had said she would be good for Harvey.

  “Am I?” she thought unhappily. “Am I even that? If I could think so, I believe I could bear all the rest.”

  Presently they went into the lounge, and the other members of the family joined them. There was nothing in Sally’s or Maurice’s manner to recall the conversation Ariane had overheard, but she found it impossible to be entirely at ease with them, and was afraid her manner was a trifle stiff.

  Then Caroline came in with Frank, and told Ariane about the Hospital Ball Caroline was organizing, and the various matters of great or small importance which had happened in Norchester while she had been away.

  No one, however, mentioned the matter of greatest importance. Marta might still have been in Chicago with her millionaire for all she figured in the conversation.

  Instead, Ariane had to pretend that few things were more absorbing than the Hospital Ball, and that of course she and Harvey would be only too delighted to make their first “official” appearance after their marriage there.

  “Thanks. I knew I could count on you as two certainties,” Caroline grinned. “Everyone who is anybody, and quite a lot who are nobody, are coming.”

  Everybody! Ariane found herself wondering several times during the evening whether the one person unmentioned by them all would find a place among the “everybody.”

  It was not really late when they both returned home, but already Mrs. Dobson—and, of course, Julie—were in bed.

  At first Ariane was slightly surprised. Then she realized this was probably her mother’s tactful way of indicating that they were to go and come as they pleased. No one would wait up for them or ask questions about what they did. It would be as nearly as possible as though they were there alone.

  “How very sweet and considerate of Mother,” thought Ariane with a smile. But, actually, she could have done with less tact and more company. As it was, it fell to her to inquire politely if Harvey had everything he wanted in his room, and so on. And, somehow, it was very odd behaving to your own husband as though he were your guest.

  But if Harvey found anything queer in it, he certainly made no sign. And after a kindly but casual “good night”, he went to his own room. While Ariane, with an equally casual “good night”, went to hers.

  The next morning, everything seemed, if possible, even more like the old days. Harvey went off quite early to the Works, while Ariane was free to occupy herself or am
use herself in just the way she always had. Her mother was there for discussion or advice if she needed either, and Julie, though always full of her own business, was as eager as ever to join enthusiastically in whatever was going on.

  Once or twice, Ariane had to turn her wedding-ring on her finger in order to persuade herself that the last few weeks were not all a dream.

  It was not until late in the afternoon, when she and her mother were sitting sewing and talking in that pleasant half-hour before tea, that Mrs. Dobson said:

  “You know, Ariane, since I always spoke quite frankly when I had anything to say in criticism of Harvey, it’s only fair to say that I am forming a very different opinion of him now.”

  “Are you, Mother?” Ariane smiled a little, but felt a good deal surprised as well. Her mother was not very quick to change her opinion of people and things.

  “It’s a great deal because of what Mr. Jordan says.”

  “Oh?” Her surprise increased at that. Mr. Jordan, the acting manager of Dobson’s, was not a man who often expressed approval.

  “Yes.” Mrs. Dobson spoke emphatically. “He had a great deal to do with Harvey, of course, in settling up the affairs of Dobson’s, and he seems to have been very much struck by his whole attitude.”

  “Well, I’m awfully glad you feel more confidence in him,” Ariane said mildly. “How—how are things working out? Financially, I mean.”

  “Most satisfactorily, my dear. Much more satisfactorily than I had dared to hope.” Mrs. Dobson’s face looked very bright and free from strain as she spoke, and Ariane felt a warm rush of gratitude towards her husband for all he had done.

  “I must have had a distinctly over-gloomy idea of things before, you know,” her mother went on cheerfully. “Actually, Dobson’s seems to be in a fairly sound condition. It has not been necessary to sell—for which I am more thankful than I can say—and Muldanes seem to have considered it well worth their while to arrange something in the nature of an amalgamation. I really don’t understand much about it,” Mrs. Dobson added with obvious truth. “But Mr. Jordan is very satisfied.”

  “Then Dobson’s will go on under its own name?” Ariane’s voice shook a little.

  “Yes. Even that, Ariane I And it seems that there will be a very sound little income for me and Julie, on a part-shares basis. It’s so much more than I could ever have imagined. You can’t think what a weight it is off my mind, not having to—to sponge on anybody.”

  “Oh yes, I can understand entirely, darling.” Ariane came over and kissed her. “It’s no more than you deserve after the brave way you struggled for the last year or two. And I’m specially glad that Dobson’s should be able to keep the name. I know it means a lot to you.”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Dobson nodded happily. “I expect really, you know, the Muldanes are very, very glad to be associated with a name like Dobson’s.”

  “I daresay you’re right,” Ariane said gently. And then: “I think I’ll just stroll down the road to meet Harvey.”

  She went out into the hall, and, slipping on a coat, walked down the road in the direction from which she knew he must come.

  Her heart was so full that she scarcely knew what words she could use to thank him. He would probably say he had only done what he had promised to do. But it was not even so much the actual fact of what he had done, as the way in which he had arranged everything. So tactfully and thoughtfully, so that her mother should never have to feel—what she hated most of all—that she was under an obligation to anyone.

  And Sally, with her cheap little sneers, had tried to cast doubts on his being a considerate husband!

  Ariane had just reached the point of deciding that Sally was the silliest and most unkind person she knew, when she saw Harvey’s car approaching.

  She waved, and he drew up at once.

  “Hello, Ariane. Where are you off to?”

  “Nowhere. I just came down the road to meet you.”

  “You—” He looked intensely surprised for a moment, and, then, with an expression of extraordinary gratification, he leaned forward and opened the door. “Did you, my dear? That was extremely nice of you.”

  “Not such a very unusual attention, surely, to pay one’s husband?” she said lightly, and smiled at him as she got in.

  “I don’t know. It’s the first time I remember it happening to me. But then I haven’t been a husband before,” he added, as he prepared to start the car again.

  “No, wait a minute. I want to thank you for something. I’ve just been hearing from Mother how things were arranged at the Works and—you’re an angel, Harvey!”

  He laughed slightly.

  “Nonsense. I thought we arranged all that long ago.”

  “But I didn’t know just how you were going to do it. With such kindness and tact. I scarcely know what to say.”

  He put his arm round her at that and gave her a light kiss.

  “You are a dear, funny girl, Ariane. Do you always thank everyone for everything?”

  “I don’t know. But it seems to me that I’m always having good reason to thank you for something.”

  “You exaggerate,” he told her, as he started the car.

  But when he handed her out a few minutes later he said:

  “It’s odd—I believe you really do approve of me.”

  “Well, of course!”

  “Not ‘of course’ at all. It’s a very novel sensation, I assure you. But I like it,” he added, with a touch of reflective amusement as they went into the house.

  The next few days were, with minor variations, very much like the first one. Harvey was exceedingly busy, and Ariane saw very little of him, except in the evenings, when they would very often stroll down to see how the building of the house was progressing.

  She and her mother were a great deal together in the daytime—very happy in each other’s company, as they had always been. And Julie shared in most things with characteristic energy.

  Of Marta Ariane neither heard nor saw anything, and she could only suppose that, for once, she had spoken the truth when she described herself as in need of quiet. Unless, of course, she was busily preparing for some new conquest.

  In due course, Julie departed on a visit to a school friend, and on the same day, Mrs. Dobson went to visit an old friend who lived the other side of the county.

  “So for a day or two you really will have the place to yourself, my dear,” she said, as she kissed Ariane good-bye.

  And Ariane smiled and had to pretend that being left alone had its advantages.

  On the night of the Hospital Ball, she dressed with more than usual care, reflecting as she did so, that it must have been in something like this mood that soldiers used to polish their swords and lances before they went into battle.

  In her own mind there was practically no doubt that Marta would be there. Why else should she have lingered on in Norchester? And why else should she have held her hand until now?

  She probably intended to meet her adversary on her own ground and vanquish her with a couple of glances and a few honeyed words. It made Ariane feel sick and nervous even to think of it. But it also had the effect of stiffening her determination to fight too, if necessary.

  “It’s a bit sordid, put like that,” Ariane told her reflection in the mirror. “Two women squabbling for a man.” Then she paused, because she could hear Harvey moving about in the next room and whistling quietly to himself.

  “It’s not sordid at all,” she thought the next moment. “It’s just looking after one’s husband properly. In some ways a man has to look after a woman, but occasionally it’s the other way round. And he never used to whistle like that in Marta’s time.”

  “Ready?” Harvey tapped on her door.

  “Almost,” Ariane called out. “You can come in if you like.”

  Harvey came in.

  He stood watching her as she clasped her pearls round her throat and tied the sash of her moonlight-blue dress. Then he spoke, as though involuntarily.

>   “You are beautiful, Ariane,” he said slowly. “And you’re most beautiful of all when you wear blue or white.”

  “White?” Ariane glanced at him in the glass and laughed. “Sure I look nice in white?”

  “Well, of course.” He looked interrogative. “Don’t all blondes look nice in white?”

  “I thought I was once described as ‘a mother’s darling got up to look like the Dying Swan’ when I wore white,” she reminded him.

  “Oh—lord, I’d forgotten.” He laughed, too, but he flushed deeply. “I’m glad you told me I was a pompous ass that night,” he volunteered suddenly. “I deserved it. You were really looking lovely, of course.”

  “Thank you, Harvey. Then I take back my remark about you,” Ariane said, and slipped into her evening coat, feeling cheered by the small incident.

  It was quite a short drive to the Assembly Rooms where the ball was being held, and Ariane scarcely had time to feel nervous again before she and Harvey were entering the really beautifully proportioned hall, which dated back to Regency times.

  “My dear, you look charming,” Caroline greeted her hastily. “Go about and be frightfully social and amiable, won’t you? I’m supposed to be one of the semi-official hostesses for this ramp, and I feel it’s up to me to see the atmosphere is thawed.” “I’ll do my meagre best,” Ariane promised, and was passing on, when Caroline caught her arm. She didn’t speak at once, and glancing at her friend, Ariane saw that she was looking past her at the door, as though she didn’t very much like what she saw there.

  “Ariane, don’t look frightfully startled or anything, but did you know Marta Roma was coming tonight?”

  “I’m not specially surprised,” Ariane replied, with a calm that astonished herself. “Is she there now?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “Thanks, my dear.” And Ariane went on to greet a group of people she knew.

  She had been separated from Harvey for a minute or two, and when she joined him she knew quite well that he too had seen Marta. Perhaps anyone who knew and loved him less would not have been able to tell. But to Ariane the signs were perfectly plain in the taut line of his jaw and the faintly bad-tempered air about him.