Marjorie Lewty - A Girl Bewitched (1982) Page 5

  His tone was withering, but rage and resentment steadied her, stiffening her muscles so that she was able to stand straight and meet his hard, contemptuous gaze.

  'And I certainly didn't seek to witness it.' She was pleased that her voice was reasonably steady although her throat was achingly tight. 'I was merely taking evasive action to avoid meeting you.' She raised her chin a fraction. 'I find it difficult to be polite to you, Mr Marston.'

  'Really?' The thick black brows rose a fraction. 'Then why try?'

  'This happens to be my home. And the occasion should be a happy one.'

  The small smile didn't reach his eyes. 'Your cousin seems to think otherwise.'

  'My cousin is very young and very vulnerable,' she retorted, breathing quickly. 'She may have been foolish enough to imagine herself in love with you, but did you have to be so disgustingly brutal?'

  'It was necessary to spell it out. Your cousin is a leech, Miss Fairley. She would cling on to a man with those pretty white teeth. A man must protect himself. If you call that being disgustingly brutal, so be it.' He shrugged indifferently and half turned to move away.

  Emma's cool deserted her finally. The blood ran hotly into her cheeks, her tawny eyes flashed golden fire, her hands clenched. 'Oh——' she spat out '—I

  think you're the most odious—hateful—despicable man I've ever met! I'd like to——' Her hand went up automatically to strike out at the hard, arrogant face above her, but he caught her wrist and held it in a grip that made her wince.

  'Oh no, you don't, Miss Fairley. This is no business of yours.' His voice was icy. 'Your cousin is a married woman and has a man to rush to her defence if she thinks it necessary.'

  He loosened his grip and tossed her hand aside contemptuously. His eyes sent shivers down her spine. 'Two hysterical females are altogether too much for one afternoon. Please excuse me.'

  He turned away and strode down the passage and disappeared from sight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Shaking with wrath and humiliation, Emma stood staring at the spot where Trent Marston had disappeared. Her wrist hurt where he had grasped it and she rubbed it fretfully, as if she could rub away the feeling of his skin touching hers. She wanted to rush up to her room and thump the pillows to work off the helpless frustration she felt.

  But there was Lisa to be thought of. Emma turned round and walked slowly up the back stairs. Lisa would get over it in time, of course she would, but it would do no good to tell her that now. After hearing that passionate outburst she didn't know what to expect when she saw Lisa, but whatever it was, she had to calm her down. Somehow Lisa had to change into her going-away clothes; somehow she had to smile and wave through all the ritual of the confetti-throwing, the 'Just Married' signs on the car, and any other wedding jokes that Richard's young brothers were no doubt planning. Somehow she had to climb into that car looking blissful, and be whisked away to a life that was empty of the man she loved. That was quite a challenge for any eighteen-year-old girl, but for sensitive, vulnerable Lisa it could be desperate.

  Lisa was standing motionless in the middle of her bedroom. As Emma opened the door she spun round, her eyes blazing.

  'You heard, didn't you? You were hiding behind that curtain, spying on me. I saw your dress as I ran past, but I was too worked up to stop then. That was a dirty trick, Em, I wouldn't have believed it of you!'

  Emma went further into the room. 'Now, wait a minute, love, I was not spying on you. You know perfectly well I wouldn't spy on you. I'd slipped in there to avoid that awful Marston man when you came hare- ing past. There wasn't a thing I could do. But I'm sorry I had to hear—if you want, I'll forget every word.'

  Lisa stared blankly at her, then, very slowly, her great blue eyes filled with tears and she slid down on to the bed. 'It doesn't matter,' she gulped. 'Oh, Em, I'm sorry. Of course you wouldn't spy on me. It's just that I—I'm so shattered. He has such an awful effect on me.'

  Emma thrust a handkerchief into her hand and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose and rushed on, choking a little. 'Oh, I hate him—I loathe him! But I

  only had to see him—to hear his voice——' She began to cry again, then pulled herself together with a visible effort. 'All I wanted was to forget him. When he went away I thought I'd never see him again. And now he's going to be around here all the time—part of the firm. He'll come to the house. You'll be working with him, Em, travelling abroad with him———'

  'I certainly will not,' Emma broke in firmly. 'Not on your life! I've met men like him and I keep well away from them. No, don't worry about me, I'm quite capable of taking avoiding action. Anyway, he'll most likely be based in London, so I shan't see anything of him.'

  Lisa stopped crying. 'Do you really think so?'

  'Yes, I do.' Emma sensed a breakthrough and began to build on it. 'Look, love, I know it's damnably difficult, but you've got to put all this behind you. You're married to Richard and he's a dear and he adores you. You're the sun and the moon and all the stars to him, and when you go down you're going to look radiant. Everyone down there is crazy about you—the way you look, the way you behave. Such dignity! Such poise! Mrs Southall said you were just like the young Princess Grace.' She hadn't, but Emma was sure she would have done if she'd thought of it.

  Lisa produced a watery little smile. 'Did she really?'

  'And poor Lorna is consumed with jealousy,' Emma pressed on, hoping she wasn't overdoing it. 'She knows she hasn't much hope of getting a husband herself, poor child. She's rather plain, isn't she?'

  'Yes, I am the first of my form to get married.' Lisa's huge eyes took on the faintest of sparkles. She fingered the skirt of the going-away outfit, laid out on the bed beside her. 'It's pretty, don't you think, Em?' she said wistfully.

  The suit of softest cotton corduroy, in a delicate powdery blue with an antique silver clasp on the belt, was a smash hit and Emma said so, and went on saying so while she helped Lisa to slip out of the wedding gown and repair her make-up. By the time she was dressed and ready to go downstairs, Lisa was giving a very convincing performance of a radiant bride leaving on her honeymoon. There was just one more hurdle left to cross and Emma kept tight hold of Lisa's hand, her eyes passing anxiously over the crowd of guests for a dark head towering above all the rest. But Trent Marston was nowhere to be seen, and she breathed easily again.

  Richard was waiting at the top of the steps outside the front door. He had changed too and he looked very spruce in his casual grey suit. He came forward eagerly as Lisa and Emma appeared, which was a signal for the twins and their two friends to produce guitars from somewhere and launch themselves into a somewhat ribald song which might have gone down well in a men's club but was certainly out of place at a quiet, conventional wedding in a country village.

  Lisa glanced at the singers and turned away, flushing, and Richard glowered fiercely at the boys. 'That's enough of that. Pack it in—it's in bloody bad taste.'

  He spoke in a low, warning voice, but Emma was standing near and heard every word. It seemed, she thought wryly, that she was destined today to overhear embarrassing exchanges.

  Kenneth, the taller of the twins, looked sulky. 'For Pete's sake, Rick, can't you take a joke?'

  Richard glanced at Lisa. 'Just stop it, will you, Ken? Lisa doesn't go for that sort of song.'

  Kenneth pulled a face and obeyed, signing to the others. The music stopped. Richard moved nearer to Lisa and put a protective arm around her and murmured something in her ear.

  Emma was quite impressed. She hadn't known that Richard could be so authoritative and she admired him all the more for it. He was right, too. The song was decidedly off colour for a wedding like this.

  Lisa was saying her goodbyes now. She came to Emma last and put her arms around her. 'Goodbye, Em darling, you've been wonderful to me always and I love you so much.' The great blue eyes were misty. 'I trust you, you know that, don't you?'

  She put her hand in Richard's and they ran down the steps and into the car. Show
ers of confetti followed them and they ducked and laughed. A moment later they were on their way, waving through the windows as they rounded the corner of the drive.

  The usual anti-climax descended on the wedding party, a slackening of tension now the married couple had left. Emma's tension slackened too and she breathed a sigh of profound relief that Trent Marston had had the decency to keep away from the seeing-off ceremony. Except, of course, that it wasn't decency that had motivated him but something entirely selfish. He had already shown himself as the kind of man who will amuse himself with a girl and then toss her aside quite callously. Emma seethed inside again, remembering his brutal words to Lisa in the passage outside the study.

  Uncle Edward approached, looking exhausted and relieved. 'Well, that all seemed to go off fairly well, don't you think?'

  'Splendidly,' agreed Emma. 'Wasn't she lovely?'

  He nodded slowly. 'So like her mother.' His eyes met Emma's 'If only——- ' he added in a low voice, and she squeezed his hand, understanding.

  Emma waited until the final car had driven away and then she went out to the kitchen to congratulate Jessie on her part in the festivities. The hired waiters had packed up and departed in the van, with their crates of china and glass and a good box of perks in the shape of left-overs, Jessie informed her. 'They were guid boys, they did well. I let them have a bottle of beer each, I hope Mr Edward will no' mind?'

  'Of course not.' Emma sank into the basket chair opposite Jessie's, heaving a sigh. 'It was a lovely wedding and everything went splendidly. Lisa's lucky, don't you think, Jessie? Richard's a really nice boy.'

  'Oh aye,' said Jessie. She folded her hands on her apron. 'Miss Lisa did the sensible thing for once. When she could'na get the one she wanted she took the next best one. I've not known her do that before,' she added.

  Emma was used to Jessie's plain speaking. Like an old family nurse, she had the privilege of saying what she thought.

  'You mean she had a crush on this Marston man?' Emma smiled, making it sound trivial. 'She mentioned him in her letters.'

  'Did she now?' Jessie said darkly. 'I wonder what she told you?'

  'Not much, really.' Emma stood up. She wasn't going to discuss Lisa with Jessie. It would seem like disloyalty. 'I'd better go up and get changed. Mrs Southall's giving a party this evening and there'll be lots of food, so don't bother about any supper for me, Jessie.'

  Jessie pulled herself to her feet, a little wearily. 'I'll be taking off my finery too.' She brushed down the skirt of the lilac dress and the shrewd eyes twinkled. I'll be needing it again when you get married, Miss Emma.'

  'Me? Oh, I shan't be getting married for ages yet. I'm choosy.' She helped herself to a tiny sausage roll from a plate of left-overs, suddenly realising that she was hungry. She had been far too tense during the reception to eat anything. 'Um, these are good. No, I'm going to be busy working for the firm. I learned a lot from Joe on our trip.'

  Jessie carried her empty tea-cup to the sink. 'Aye, Joe's a guid man, but he's getting on a bit now. You'll be working with this Mr Marston, then?'

  Oh lord, here it was again! Couldn't she be allowed to forget the man for a moment?

  'I really don't know,' she said vaguely, turning to the door.

  Jessie looked over her shoulder. 'Miss Lisa won't take kindly to it if you do,' she said flatly.

  Emma couldn't let that go. 'Lisa? Why should she mind? She's married now.'

  'Oh aye, she's married, but she's still just a child. She would'na like you getting together with Mr Marston, I can tell you that.'

  'Getting together?' Emma almost exploded. 'What do you mean, Jessie?'

  Jessie didn't smile often, but sometimes her face took on a wry, mischievous look, as it did now. 'Och, I don't mean anything, except that you'd make a bonny pair, the two of you.'

  It was no good getting angry with Jessie. Evidently the Marston individual had been working on her, too, with his lazy dark eyes and his machismo. Better make it into a joke. It was quite an effort, but she managed to laugh. 'You'd better watch that imagination of yours, Jessie. I hardly know the man.' She couldn't resist adding, '—and I don't at all like what I do know.'

  Jessie raised scanty eyebrows. 'Oh, aye?' she said, and turned back to the sink.

  Outside the kitchen door Emma stood looking up and down the passage, wondering where Trent Marston was, almost holding her breath. Then she pulled herself together. She would have to encounter the man again at some time, so it was quite ridiculous to behave like some silly heroine in an adventure film, hiding behind curtains, peering round corners. She tossed back her head and marched towards the back staircase.

  'Miss Fairley——-' A deep voice from behind brought her up sharply with a twinge of something that felt like fear at the pit of her stomach.

  'Yes?' she said, raising her eyebrows faintly.

  He stood in the study doorway, one hand on the door-knob, evidently intending to go back inside. He must have been listening for her, recognising her step on the tiled floor. 'I wondered when you would like to leave for the party,' he said. 'I'm at your service, any time.'

  Pompous beast, she thought. At my service indeed— that's a lie!

  'I won't need to trouble you, Mr Marston,' she said coolly, avoiding his eyes. But it was almost worse to focus on the long length of his body in its well-fitting formal suit as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorpost, and imagine herself sitting beside him in the intimate closeness of his car. No, she couldn't!

  Uncle Edward appeared behind Trent in the doorway. 'Aren't you going to the party, Emma? You're all right, are you, my dear? Not ailing? Not suffering from jet-lag?'

  'No, I'm fine.' She smiled brilliantly at him. 'It's just that I'm not sure how long I'll be, so I won't bother Mr Marston. When I'm ready Malcolm can give me a lift. Or I could drive myself if the Mini's O.K.'

  'No need, my dear, no need at all,' Uncle Edward assured her. 'Malcolm has taken the lad from the garage into Poole, to drive Richard's car back. And I'm afraid your Mini has gone in for servicing and re- spraying. I thought it would be a little surprise for you, when you got home.'

  'Oh,' said Emma rather blankly. 'That's a lovely surprise—and how good of you to think of it.'

  Edward smiled. 'As a matter of fact, my dear, I must admit that it was Malcolm who thought of it—I don't go to the garage very often.'

  'Well, never mind who thought of it,' Emma pressed on gaily, aware all the time of Trent Marston's dark eyes fixed on her with cynical scrutiny, 'it was a very bright idea. The old Mini was looking decidedly the worse for wear.'

  There was an awkward little silence. Emma swallowed. 'Oh well, then, I'll accept your offer, Mr Marston. At half-past seven?'

  There was a touch of irony in the way he bowed and the dark eyes held an unmistakable gleam of malice. 'Delighted,' he said.

  Emma fled along the passage and up to her bedroom.

  Once there she sat on the bed, breathing quickly. Trent Marston got under her skin as no man had ever done before. Although he was downstairs, talking to Uncle Edward, she could still feel his presence as if he was right here in the room. She could well understand how it had been with Lisa. Poor romantic little Lisa wouldn't have had a chance with a man like that, she would have gone down like——-

  She sat bolt upright suddenly. Like what? What had happened between them? Up to this moment she had taken it for granted that what Lisa had felt for the man had been nothing more than a romantic teenage crush. But had it? Had it been something altogether more serious? Had he seduced her? If so, that would explain a lot—Lisa's passionate outburst in the passage, her nervous fainting fit over supper last night.

  She shrank from the thought. With other girls of eighteen, perhaps, it would not be so traumatic to have an affair with a man over thirty. Many of them were experienced already, as they made quite clear. But Lisa—so fastidious and delicate, such a child—no, it didn't bear thinking about. She mustn't let herself think about it. As the odious man
himself had said, it was none of her business, now that Lisa was married. She would put it behind her and forget that the idea had ever occurred to her.

  She got up and slid open the door of her wardrobe, debating what to wear for the party. It would be quite acceptable to keep the green bridesmaid's dress on, of course; most of the other girls would probably still be wearing their wedding gear. But she fancied something different, something that wouldn't pair her off with young Lorna, something that had been chosen by herself and not by Mrs Southall.

  In the end she chose a velvet jump-suit in a beech- leaf brown that went well with her hair and her eyes and was partyish without being wispy and girlish, like the green chiffon. She took longer than usual over her make-up and chose an eyeshadow that gave a deep, almost coppery glow to her eyes, and a lipstick that provided a rich, smooth gloss. She was pleased with the final result. An up-and-coming young business woman, that was Emma Fairley. Independent. Poised. Her own girl. That horrible man would never call her an hysterical female again, not if she could help it!

  He was waiting in the hall when she went downstairs at exactly half-past seven, lounging in the corner of a velvet settle, leafing through a sailing magazine. He had changed too, he looked even more spectacular in casual clothes—black cords that moulded his long legs, a dusty pink shirt and an elegant black wrapover jacket. He certainly knew how to make an impression, she thought, deciding that she'd prefer a pipe-and-tweeds man herself—if such an animal still existed.

  He got up as she came down the stairs, glancing at his watch. 'On the dot,' he said. 'Are you always so punctual, Miss Fairley?'

  She looked at him coldly. 'I don't claim the feminine privilege of keeping a man waiting, if that's what you mean.'

  He held the front door open and she swept out before him. The low-slung silver-grey Bentley was standing in the drive. As he eased himself into the front seat beside her he said, 'That wasn't exactly what I meant. If you're going to work for me I'd like to know what to expect in the way of time-keeping.'