Juliet Armstrong - Isle of the Hummingbird Page 10

  'No, I can't,' she said shortly.

  'Then I suggest we take things lightly, and enjoy each other's company tomorrow as much as we can. After all,' and he smiled in quizzical fashion, 'we don't actively dislike each other, do we?'

  'Of course not,' was her cool and dignified reply.

  'In fact, if you look as pretty as you do tonight—————— '

  He broke off as Yvonne and Ronald came into the room, chatting and laughing, and exclaiming just as he had done on Bryony's appearance.

  And enjoy herself she did on that wonderful Shrove Tuesday—even more than on the Monday of 'Ol' Masque'. For Peregrine showed himself in a completely new light. He was no longer the tired, overworked young doctor, rather untidy in his dress, and his face creased with worry lines. He had taken pains over his appearance and was an escort of whom any girl could be proud.

  His brother and younger sisters were all in a party with the O'Danes, and he had no need to worry about them. He could give himself up to entertaining a very pretty young woman as though he had met her for the first time—and certainly without any thought of her being in his employ.

  His attitude clearly delighted the Gilberts, who made no secret of their liking for Bryony, and it was a gay and cheerful quartet that settled down in one of the best stands in Queen's Park to watch the magnificent processions—thousands of exuberant people parading in costumes reminiscent of the most fantastic and beautiful visions from the Arabian Nights.

  And the thrilling, pulsating music of the steel bands, playing the newest calypso hits—the fruity voices singing——-! No adjectives, however flowery, could truly describe it all, and by the end of the long evening Bryony, although she had had nothing stronger than fruit juice to drink, was feeling little short of intoxicated.

  So much so that when at last they reached home— just before the midnight silence of Lent clamped down on the island—and Peregrine, following the example of the Gilberts, kissed her good-night, she returned his hard, male kiss with an enthusiasm which, in the clear light of Ash Wednesday morning, she could scarcely credit.

  An astonishing kiss, on both sides! She could have blushed for it—but for one patently obvious fact. So far as Peregrine was concerned the whole evening had no past and no future. It was just a few hectic hours snatched out of time.

  Once again he was the slightly harassed, faintly irritable doctor—and she the poised and self-possessed housekeeper whom he had engaged to run his house.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Christopher, with Anne-Marie's sketch of Bryony safely in his suitcase, left for Canada on the morning of Ash Wednesday, driven to the airport by Peregrine. His departure cast a shadow—the girls were already gloomy over returning to school—and it was a real relief to Bryony that the Gilberts were staying until the end of the week.

  After taking the girls in to school she had to go right into the centre of the town, shopping, and found it weirdly different from the last two days. No more crowds jigging endlessly through the streets to calypso bands, no more exuberance. For a while at least the citizens of Port-of-Spain had had enough; they had gone wearily back to work, or into the churches to be marked on their foreheads with the ashen cross of the penitential season.

  She had brought Miss Fanier in with her. The old lady had gone to earth during Carnival—having known its delights for half a century—and now wanted mild distraction, even if it was only sitting in a car in a parking place, while Bryony dived into nearby stores.

  Half afraid that she would want to go to the Polydore boutique, which had a strong attraction for her, Bryony had prepared some cast-iron excuses. But Aunt Isabel fortunately revealed that she considered any but essential shopping out of place on so solemn a day as Ash Wednesday, and Bryony breathed again. Instinctively, however, she kept a lookout for Hugh, and in Marine Square nearly knocked him down, as he crossed against the traffic. She wondered whether he would be feeling resentful at her refusal of his invitation to watch the Carnival with him—and ignore her. But no such thing happened. His dark, good-looking face lit up at the sight of her and within a few minutes, with a little manoeuvring, he was achieving the near-impossible—entertaining her and Aunt Isabel to iced coffee in the restaurant of a big shop in Frederick Street.

  How he had managed all this was beyond Bryony's comprehension—except that he succeeded in no time at all in charming Aunt Isabel with his delightful and deferential manners—his plea that he would be in Trinidad only for a few days before going on his firm's business to Venezuela.

  It came out in the most natural way that he and Miss Moore had become firm friends on board ship— that he had hardly dared hope to meet her again— and touched at his fervour, and at the ardent glances he threw in Bryony's direction, Miss Fanier did something totally unexpected. In her nephew's name she invited him to dinner on the following Friday.

  'Just a small family party it will be—isn't that so, Bryony?—but I can assure you, Mr. Woods, that any friend of hers will be most welcome.'

  'I'd love that.' There was an almost boyish eagerness in Hugh's tone. And then he added: 'I wonder, too, whether I could take her out for a drive and a meal tomorrow,' continuing without waiting for Miss Fanier's comment: 'What about it, Bryony? I've so much to say to you that could never be put in a letter.'

  'Of course she can go I' Bemused with romantic notions about this good-looking young couple, it did not occur to Miss Fanier that it was for Bryony to accept or refuse.

  As for Bryony, meeting Hugh's pleading look, she hesitated only for a moment. She would have rather kept her friendship with Hugh completely detached from the Gray family—would have preferred to meet him in Port-of-Spain. But with the impossibility of arranging this—at least without surprised comment from Aunt Isabel—she could only smile and say that this would be very nice.

  And then a way out occurred to her—for the next day, anyway. She asked: 'But have you transport? Wouldn't it be better if I borrowed the smaller family car, and picked you up somewhere?

  'Not at all. I've friends who are only too ready to lend me their Mercedes.' Hugh was beaming at her. 'I know where the house is, and I shall enjoy the drive out to fetch you. So let's make it tomorrow at six o'clock.'

  She had enjoyed being treated as one of the family, but now was to find its disadvantages. Only Peregrine had known about Hugh, but within a very short time everyone had heard of this charming man who was not only coming to take Bryony out for an evening's entertainment but the following night would give them all a chance of making his acquaintance over the dinner-table.

  The Gilberts, of course, were far too tactful to cause her any embarrassment; they treated it as perfectly natural that she should have run into this pleasant shipboard acquaintance. But Anne-Marie and Sally could not get over the fact that all this time she had been looking so prim and proper she had had a boyfriend in the offing—hadn't said a word to them about him. And they were greatly excited at the prospect of meeting him and judging whether he was good enough for her.

  'And don't be surprised if we criticise him,' Sally remarked sternly. 'After all, you made it quite obvious that you didn't think Bernard and Frank were up to the mark—practically told us that Perry was right in wanting to discourage them.'

  Anne-Marie, whose interest in Frank had been waning of late, and who actually was treating the eldest O'Dane boy, David, with a certain mild friendliness, chuckled at this.

  'Suppose Perry disapproves of this chap, Bryony?

  And Sally and I lecture you about carrying out his wishes!'

  'I shouldn't have dreamt of asking him up to the house, whether Perry liked him or not,' was Bryony's slightly irritated reply. 'I don't know this man at all well—he's just a shipboard acquaintance. Aunt Isabel meant well in inviting him here, but I'd have much preferred that she didn't. Going out with him on my own is quite a different matter.'

  But these chilly remarks made little impression on the girls. They couldn't, they declared, their eyes dancing, wait
to see if he was as handsome as Aunt Isabel had affirmed, and as charming in his manner. From her description he sounded more like a film-star than a down-to-earth business-man. She mustn't be surprised if they fell for him, too.

  She was ready and waiting for him at six o'clock the following evening, and managed to slip off with him without making any introductions—something of a feat, as the girls had intended to be on the watch for him.

  She had tried to take their affectionate teasing in good part, and had she felt quite happy about Hugh, could probably have done so. But her memories of those radiantly happy moments on board ship had lost a little of their colour and gleam. It wasn't so very long ago that they had kissed and clung and talked without reserve—not in matter of weeks and months. And she still felt his attraction. But a doubt had crept into her mind of his being precisely the man he had seemed.

  Alone with him, taking a road to the south-east, some of the old magic returned, for even while he reproached her with coldness and neglect, his voice held caressing undertones and endearments.

  But she was not to be swept away from her purpose, and when they reached the lonely beach for which he was making, and sat on the golden sand in the glow of sunset, she lost little time in asking him how he came to be on such friendly terms with the people who ran the strange little hairdressing establishment in Port-of-Spain.

  'What a dull subject for our first few minutes alone!' He had taken her hand in his, and continued quickly: 'What a slender wrist you have. I remembered that when I bought you the little present I have for you.'

  He released her, and diving into his pocket brought out a small leather case which he sprang open to reveal a slim gold bracelet studded with pearls.

  'My dear Hugh, I couldn't take a valuable gift like that.' She was completely taken aback. 'It must have cost you a month's salary!'

  'It would have done, if it had been new. But to tell you the truth, darling, I got it at second-hand, in Jamaica. A friend in Kingston bought it for his wife, and she wouldn't have it—said pearls were unlucky. So he sold it to me at a bargain price, and bought her a fine new dress instead.'

  'All the same, I don't think I can accept it,' she told him, and saw his face cloud with disappointment.

  'Surely you don't go in for these silly superstitions!'

  'Of course not. But whatever you say, it's quite obviously a valuable piece of jewellery. And you know as well as I do that a girl can't take a present of that sort from a man friend.'

  'As I remarked once before, when you were telling me what you felt about being an adopted child, we're not living in the days of Queen Victoria. And by the way,' he took her hand again, 'it would make me very happy if I could think I helped you a little by what I said then. I've often thought of that conversation, and wondered if I had seemed too unsympathetic—too abrupt.'

  'You certainly did help me. You were marvellously kind. But, Hugh, this bracelet

  'My darling, I only wish it was a ring. For that's what I want with all my heart to give you one day— and the reason why I'm working far harder than I've ever done before. A ring to put on your wedding finger. And that, I can tell you, won't have been bought second-hand.'

  Then, with a sudden movement, he slipped the bracelet on to her wrist and clicked it.

  'Don't wear it in public if it embarrasses you,' he said. 'Wear it when we're together—or when you're alone—and think: "Poor old Hugh, he gave me the best thing he could—even though, as he confessed, it was only a second-hand bargain." And go on to reflect that one day, by sheer hard work, he'll be giving you some really worth-while jewels—not miserable little pearls set in nine-carat gold, but emeralds and rubies.'

  'But, Hugh, I'm not particularly keen on jewels. Never have been.' Then realising by his appraisal of the bracelet that by her own standards, even, it could not have cost very much, she relented, and told him: 'I'll keep this bracelet, if you really want me to. I'd hate to hurt you by refusing it. But please, and I mean this, Hugh—no more presents of this sort. Because I shall have to give them straight back to you.'

  'I suppose I must be content with that.' He pulled her close to him and dropped a light kiss on her lips. 'But I've a few trifles here—samples, more or less, from my stock-in-trade, which my firm allows me to hand out to my girl-friends by way of advertisement.'

  She noticed that plural, but was careful to make no comment. She did not want him embarking on impassioned protestations that she was the only girl who counted in his life—for in spite of all he had said about giving her a ring, she was not sure that she believed him—or indeed that she could ever think seriously of marrying him. There was something lovable about him, certainly—something boyish in his ardour. And yet———- —-!

  From another pocket he had taken out a thick envelope containing a few cartons of face powder in different shades, some lipsticks and minute flasks of perfume.

  'Take them all,' he said. 'Use what you like and give the rest away. That's the firm's idea.'

  She looked at them curiously.

  'They're got up most attractively. But the name on them! Surely that isn't what you told me was the name of your firm.'

  He smiled.

  'You're a smart girl. You'd be invaluable as a business partner, with your sharp eyes and ingenuous expression. However, as I explained to you before, I don't work simply and solely for that one big concern. Like most people in my line, I take up other agencies. Everyone knows about it. There's no secret in it.'

  She hesitated, then blurted out: 'Is that how you get involved with people like Senora Blavona and that youth, Leoni?'

  'Of course I' And then he remarked with a trace of impatience: 'But why do you keep harping on them, Bryony?'

  She told him then of the strange behaviour of the Venezuelan woman when she had taken Miss Fanier to have Polydore attend to her hair, and before he could comment on this, went on quickly to express her surprise at seeing him met by Leoni on his arrival at Piarco airport.

  'Leoni's not quite so young as he looks, and I've been friendly with him on a business basis for years. I would a thousand times sooner have had you to meet me, but when I got your letter telling me you couldn't come to watch the Carnival with me, I sent a line to Leoni, asking him to meet me instead. As for that Blavona woman, you could have knocked me down with a feather when I found that she was Leoni's aunt—that it was Polydore's establishment she was joining. Leoni says she's crazy, but that she's put a lot of money into the business. Otherwise they'd send her packing.'

  'And how does Polydore come into it?' Bryony asked, still puzzled.

  And now Hugh laughed.

  'He may or may not be Leoni's father,' he said. 'Nobody knows.'

  There were people scattered here and there along the stretch of sand, but at distances which gave every little group privacy. Conversations could not be overheard—only the shrill cries of children playing at the edges of the waves sweeping in from the South Atlantic.

  Hugh grumbled a little at what he termed the lack of solitude, but then remarked with a wry smile that it was perhaps as well.

  'You're an ice maiden,' he said, 'and the odd thing is that I'm content that you should be this way— perhaps because I find you almost unique. But I might be tempted to try to melt you—which would be a mistake.'

  'How right you are.' Her tone was cool, certainly.

  'Only at present, though. One day, my darling, you'll unfreeze, and then—oh, then, Bryony——- !'

  She flashed him a smile.

  'Don't let's be serious, Hugh. Tell me about some of the other odd people you meet through your work. You go to so many countries———————————————————————- '

  He had always been quick to catch her mood and did so now. He drew one caricature for her after another, making her laugh, and the blue of the sky changed to rose and purple and gold. And it was time to go in search of dinner.

  He took her to dine at a newly opened hotel, and she enjoyed, for a cha
nge, the sophistication and luxury. She enjoyed, too, his conversation, and his evident appreciation of her as an attractive woman.

  In the Gray household she was treated with an easy affection—though even that was perhaps too strong a word for Peregrine's mild liking. Hugh told her, and not only in words, that she was adorable. In his company that small, nagging ache over her parentage vanished as though it had never been. He knew about it and had dismissed every thought of it as utterly unimportant—and she could do the same.

  There was passion in his good-night kisses—well before they reached the gate of the Gray home—but though in the starlight shyness left her, she was not as ready to respond as on those nights on the boat-deck. Something—she was not sure what—held her back. The memory, perhaps, of his long silence, when he had not sent her so much as a brief air letter; had not seemed to care whether she was alive or dead.

  And that thought, it seemed, occurred to him, too, for he said in a tone of self-reproach: 'I've been a fool, the way I've taken for granted we could take up the threads again—all in a minute. I'm not making that mistake again.'

  She felt painfully self-conscious over his coming to dine en famille—the more so as Peregrine had insisted that Laura, who had so far not been invited once to the house during the Gilberts' stay, must also be asked.

  Things went, however, much better than she could have expected. Hugh behaved, so it seemed to her, in exactly the right way to each member of the household, from Sally to Aunt Isabel. He was modest and unassuming, but witty, too, in a quiet fashion, and an excellent listener. Particularly pleased that he made no parade of his feelings for her, she felt that she could be proud of him. Even Peregrine must surely approve.

  But for Laura's presence things would have gone without a hitch. Her first gaffe occurred when Bryony was introducing Hugh to her as 'Hugh Woods'.