She roused to find Adrian watching her with a curious anxiety. So engrossed had she been in her own amazement she had momentarily forgotten what was expected of her.
“Oh, my dear, how pleased I am!” she cried wholeheartedly, seizing his two hands and giving them a hard squeeze. “It does seem quite too good to be true, doesn’t it?”
“I was struck dumb,” he returned candidly, but his eyes still searched hers in a way she found faintly puzzling.
“How do you explain her doing a thing like this?” she continued. “Was it a sort of death-bed repentance, or what?”
“Don’t ask me. Of course, when a thing’s happened, one generally manages to rationalise it. I suppose I must have impressed her more favourably than I thought these last few weeks.”
Diana stared at him.
“You mean you’ve actually been seeing Aunt Rose?” she demanded in still greater astonishment. “When? How? You never wrote me about it.”
“Perhaps I didn’t. It never seemed important enough to mention.” He hesitated, and added thoughtfully, “I’ll tell you how it came about. It was through old Blundell, as a matter of fact. You may recall I met him at your mother’s sherry-party just before you left town?”
“Yes, I remember.” Diana still stared, thinking what a tremendous lot seemed to have happened since she had last sat at this table with Adrian. “It was the time Aunt Rose didn’t turn up, and Mummy was so relieved, because—well, because she was afraid Aunt Rose might have been rude to you. Go on.”
“I didn’t recognise him at first. We’d been talking several minutes before I realised he was the chap who used to let me fish for newts at his place in Berkshire, and gave me whole quid tips. He seems a generous old duffer—very friendly and so on. My father always said he was.”
“Oh, certainly!” Diana agreed without any marked warmth. “He’s my godfather, you know. That was because when my brother who died was first born he was so frightfully decent to Mummy and Daddy. You see, Daddy couldn’t get a part, and Mummy couldn’t act on account of having a baby. Uncle Nick lent them money and forever won their hearts. It is queer to think he was the one to bring you and Aunt Rose together again—and yet, I don’t know. It is rather like him.”
She mused a moment, brightened, and bade him continue.
“Well, what then?”
“He took down my address, and an evening or two later he looked me up and drove me back to his flat for dinner. You know, he’s got a rather posh outfit over by Albert Hall. Owns the whole house. Her flat was above his.”
“Yes, they’ve had that arrangement for quite ten years. They were the greatest cronies, of course. Oh, nothing romantic. Just friends. She was a good bit older than he.”
“I gathered they sort of lived in each other’s pockets, but that it was entirely platonic. Naturally, we got talking of her. Blundell told me confidentially that she was feeling slightly hurt over my being in London for months and never coming to call.”
“Hurt! Don’t make me laugh.”
“Well, all considered, I did think it a bit thick. But from my recollections of her she was never exactly a reasonable woman, and certainly when I was a kid she was good to me in a way.” Adrian paused, examining his spoon. “Anyhow, Blundell pointed out that she was old now and feeling rather lonely with no relations she hadn’t quarrelled with—apt, in fact, to imagine she was being slighted. He said it was her pride that had kept her from making any advances, but that if I could bring myself to take the first step it would do me no harm and give her a lot of pleasure. He suggested we go up together and take her by surprise. It was a matter of complete indifference to me, so up we went—and that began it.”
“And she was glad to see you?”
“I don’t quite know.” Adrian studied the morsel of crumpet impaled on his fork. “I thought her a spot stiffish just at first. Later it wore off. I see now she must have liked my coming. Blundell said she could never let me see how bucked she was, because that would have been admitting she’d been in the wrong. I expect she knew my father had behaved with extraordinary decency over that divorce.”
“And the alimony,” Diana added dryly. “Undoubtedly she was flattered. She was vain as a peacock, even at sixty-five. What on earth did you three find to talk about?”
“Oh, this and that. Blundell soon got her in a good humour, pulling her leg and being a bit of a clown. It seemed to go down with her extremely well.”
“It did.” Diana nodded. “They were an odd sort of couple, all full of mutual appreciation. I’ve often wondered they didn’t marry each other, but I dare say they were happier having their separate establishments, and just hobnobbing like two old women. Do you imagine Uncle Nick put her up to leaving you her money?”
“It seems possible.” Adrian spoke slowly, as though he had weighed this idea before. “He tells me he thought the world of my father, and he’s shown a decided interest in my future career. Of course, he’s never said anything. Well, to cut it short, I went there a fair amount. It wasn’t thrilling, but with you away it was somewhere to go. It certainly never crossed my mind she hadn’t a good twenty years to live, even less that I’d gone over strong enough to warrant her doing this incredible thing; but there it is, she did do it, and that’s that. I can’t quarrel with it, can I?”
“Quarrel! I should say not. It may upset all our previous views of Aunt Rose’s character, but that’s a mere detail. When did you last see her?”
Her question woke him from a reverie.
“When? Oh, the very day she died. Sunday, a fortnight ago. Blundell and I lunched with her. She seemed perfectly well, ate a hearty meal. We left directly afterwards, because Blundell was golfing, and I had a job to finish off. He dropped me at the hospital, and I had no idea anything had happened till the following day. It seems when he got to his club-house there was a telephone message waiting for him. She’d been taken ill soon after we left—and she died about five-thirty that same afternoon. It appears she’d made this will only two days before.”
“Two days!” Diana gasped. “What miraculous luck!”
“I’ll say it was,” he said frankly. “Blundell now tells me she seemed in a perfect fever to get it done—as though she had some sort of premonition. I don’t know anything about that. It’s a complete mystery to me.”
“Never mind about mysteries. Oh, Adrian, I am so pleased! It will mean no more pinching and scraping, won’t it? You can wait and choose exactly the right post. Isn’t that so?”
She had impulsively taken his hand again to give it another quick little squeeze. He retained her fingers a second, then released them. All at once she felt he had not told her all, and that in a few minutes he might be wanting a different kind of felicitations. If not, why this embarrassment?
“It does mean all that,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got down to my last hundred pounds, as it happens, and would have had to snatch up anything that came along; but—it means something more.”
He paused, reddening till his very eyes seemed suffused.
Now it was coming. Diana sat tense, steeling herself for the confession.
“Suppose,” he went on awkwardly, “I were to tell you that this sort of thing can’t go on?” His voice had suddenly gone dry. “You and I meeting like this, without any possibility of—” Again he floundered, mopping his brow angrily. “It’s got to end,” he blurted out. “You see that. Or don’t you?”
She met his gaze, understanding.
“Quite, Adrian, dear. Now this has happened, you’ll be wanting to get married. I quite expected it.”
“Married! That’s it.”
He caught her up with an energy which startled her. Oblivious of the surrounding company he leant forward to pour out a flood of words.
“I can’t go on. It’s got to end one way or the other. Get me? I’ve not the slightest reason to suppose that you—but I can’t bother about that now. It all shakes down to this: Are you going to have me? Are you? Tell me, quick!”
All the breath in her seemed suspended. The yellow-walled room, Indians and all, swam in a roseate haze.
“Me?” she whispered incredulously. “Oh, Adrian! Is it me you want?”
“Who in hell did you think it was?” he fired back at her. “My God, what other girl have I looked at but you?”
“I don’t know.” She laughed, dazed by the onslaught. “I thought—”
“Don’t think, answer me! Will you, or have I drawn a blank?”
“I . . . oh, Adrian, yes!”
Flame seemed to leap up and devour her.
“You mean it? You will? Diana! Oh, blast this place!”
He dragged his chair round to her side, seized her two hands in a grip of steel. No embarrassment now. Above the beating of her own heart Diana believed she could hear the clamour of his. He was a new Adrian—one she had never really known existed. She still saw him glorified, through a mist in which all her senses quivered. It was a full minute before the wonder of it subsided to the point where speech was possible.
“But I never guessed!” she whispered at last. “Tell me, when did you begin wanting me?”
“When?” He brushed the question aside as of no consequence. “How do I know? Directly I came over—or maybe before, when we were kids. Anyhow, I’ve died a thousand deaths.”
“But why, darling?” she reproached him. “You could so easily have found out if I cared. I could never have been sure till I knew how you felt, but the money part wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Oh, wouldn’t it?” he muttered.
“Certainly not,” she retorted warmly. “We might have got married long before you were able to keep us both. I’m working. I like having a job. Mummy’s always done her share. Why shouldn’t I?”
He shook his head.
“I couldn’t have let you. Not possibly. No use arguing. Don’t you understand? It’s exactly because you are strong and independent that I couldn’t let you slave for me. I’d have sunk in my own esteem. No, as things were, it was simply no good. I’d never have told you.” There was no denying the fact that this obstinate pride of his delighted her, for all she must protest against it.
“You mean you’d have gone back to America without ever saying a word? Oh, Adrian, you couldn’t!”
“Why not? It would have been a cad’s trick to expect you to wait for me indefinitely—and with the ocean between us. For one thing, you might have fallen for some one else and felt bound to me.”
“So might you have done,” she reminded him.
“Maybe. I don’t think so, though.” He viewed the possibility dispassionately. “You see, much as I want certain things, my job comes first, and always will. It’s only fair to tell you that, so you’ll appreciate what you’re letting yourself in for. Women as women don’t interest me enough to make me go chasing after them.”
Diana laughed.
“No, it’s they who do the chasing,” she said tenderly. “And I like having you as you are. I shan’t mind if your job comes first. I’ll be perfectly happy just looking after you. You’ll never be able to do that for yourself, will you?”
He gazed at her, too fascinated to summon more than a faint smile.
“You think me pretty darned impractical, don’t you?” he returned. “You would. Well, I may be, though left on my own I seem to muddle along all right. Anyhow, get this. I’m not marrying you to turn you into a drudge. There’s no need now, thank God!”
Her eyes, dove-grey, caressed his ardent ones. With a proprietary touch she straightened his new tie.
“I know one girl who’ll be tearing her hair over this,” she remarked irrelevantly. “Now, tell me the truth. Hasn’t Bobbie Ackland been begging you to marry her?”
“Rot!” He reddened, annoyed. “What gave you that notion?”
“Oh, I guessed! It’s so, isn’t it?”
“Supposing it is,” he muttered, “why bring it up now?”
“Oh, darling, how transparent you are! And how about Uncle Nick’s secretary, Elsie Dilworth? Is she another victim?”
She had meant this as the wildest jest. The sudden frown contracting his brow proved it had been no random shot.
“That poor nut!” he exclaimed under his breath. “Now, who’s been gassing to you about her?”
“Why, no one! Don’t you remember? We sent you to that boarding place because we knew about it from Elsie—and because it was close to your hospital. Months ago you told me she’d been extremely nice to you. I was teasing you, that’s all.”
“Well, she’s gone now.” He spoke shortly, running a lean brown finger inside his collar. “And a good job, too. Bit wrong in the top story, if you ask me. Oh, she may be okay as a secretary, but—she was getting a confounded nuisance in some ways.”
“Oh, was she?” Diana watched him with demure amusement. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, “what heaps we’ll have to talk over, shan’t we? How I wish I hadn’t to go home!”
“Go home? Why? I thought we’d have dinner together.”
“I’d love it, only you see I’ve not yet seen Mummy, and if I’m to catch her before she leaves for her theatre I must fly this instant. I’ll tell you, suppose you come with me, and we’ll break our news to her. How enchanted she’ll be when she hears!”
“Will she?” She fancied he was showing a slight return of diffidence and hesitation. “I hope so—but, no, I won’t come with you. I ought by rights to put in another stretch at the hospital. Couldn’t we get together later, say about ten?”
“Of course! We might fetch Mummy after the show, and hold a little celebration at the flat. Daddy’ll be home by then, and it’ll buck him up. Poor lamb, he’s a bit side-tracked these days. Now, let’s hunt a taxi. No ’buses for me this night!”
As they paused by the cash-desk, the dark-skinned owner of the bangle turned and stared at them with singular pointedness.
“Look,” whispered Diana, “I do believe everyone here’s been taking in every word we’ve said!”
Adrian hardly troubled to glance back as he pocketed his change. “Oh, I expect they’ve noticed me in here fairly often—and they’re an inquisitive crowd. Shall we go?”
In the cold, misty darkness they drifted, pressed close together, till, within sight of the thoroughfare, they reached the entrance to a mews. With one accord they halted, looking at each other. Then Adrian drew Diana into the sheltered opening, set down her suitcase, and crushed her in his arms. How strong he was—and how starved! It now seemed incredible that hunger like this could have been hidden so completely, the more so since the need Diana sensed in him was peculiarly and definitely for her. Other women had wanted him, but there had been nothing for them. With the realisation of this her joy in his kisses took a quickened thrill. Long moments passed before either could tear away. When they did, both were trembling.
There was another, final embrace when they parted at the taxi-rank.
“Darling—darling! You will ring up the instant you’re finished?”
“I wish it was now. Diana! You do—?”
“Oh, so much, so much, Adrian! I never knew I could feel like—oh, there! Do be careful!” she admonished, as, stepping back, he narrowly missed an oncoming car. “What did I tell you?” she laughed happily. “Can you look after yourself?”
He gazed raptly at her, a man in a dream. For half a minute she saw him, marooned on an island in the Kingsway traffic, then he was blotted from view, and she sank back in the taxi to savour, in solitude, her newfound rapture.
How was it, she marvelled, that till now she had never dimly suspected the depth of her own feelings? A miracle had happened. Looking back, she saw her twenty-two years of existence as a calm, land-locked lagoon, from which, by the touch of one pair of lips, she had set sail on the open sea. Adrian—hers!
“And to think,” she murmured into the darkness of the cab, “I owe it all—everything—to Aunt Rose Somervell, whom I never really liked! I want to apologise to her. I do wonder how on earth she came to do it?”
It occurred to her that her mother—yes, even tolerant little Margaret—would be more astounded than any one else over Rose’s action.
“She was mistaken, that’s all. I think I see how it was. When Aunt Rose met Adrian again and actually realised the struggle he’d been having she got an attack of conscience. Still, for her to pop off like that, directly afterwards! A shame to say it, but how awfully well-timed!”
It tempted one to believe in guardian angels—but come to think of it, might not Nicholas Blundell have played just that role? He could scarcely have foreseen Rose’s decision, but at least he had paved the way for it, and at the critical moment had not interfered. For once, where her godfather was concerned, Diana’s gratitude was spontaneous and untempered by criticism. Officious, bull-in-a-china-shop Uncle Nick, wanting every one to be happy, but usually so clumsy in his efforts! This time he had wrought better than he knew.
The taxi stopped in a little, retired square close to the Marble Arch, where, in the upper part of a converted house, the Lakes had their abode. As Diana sprang out she noticed a large Sunbeam car drawn up at the entrance. It seemed familiar, but before she had bestowed a second glance on it the man of whom she had been thinking came out of the house door.
Uncle Nick himself—but what had happened to him? He was not smiling. Indeed, as he came towards her, squat, rugged, powerful, the strange, set gravity of a face habitually humorous gave her a curious shock. Then she remembered what Aunt Rose’s death must have meant to him. How stupid of her to forget it! She touched his arm.
“Why, Uncle Nick!” she cried. “Aren’t you going to speak to me?”
He turned, startled, and for a second his yellowish-grey eyes met hers without recognition. She saw, then, that although his tremendous dynamic force seemed unimpaired, he had quite definitely aged. Nicholas Blundell, bursting with health and vigour, had become an old man.