Claire Page 12

  Consequently, Varian and his sister-in-law ventured outside until he was done and strolled along the pretty arbor that ran from the inn toward the Park gates. Drew realized afterwards that he had been the victim of a very subtle and benign plot.

  “Varian,” began Claudia, in her calm manner, “Consuela’s turned you away from Claire’s sickroom, hasn’t she?”

  Now Drew was of the impression that his private affairs were very much a secret and hadn’t the least idea that his entire household was perfectly aware of his marital problems. “Well, yes, she has; several times. I suppose— ”

  “For I wanted to explain to you why,” Claudia said, in her reasonable and rational voice. “You don’t know Claire very well, after all, even if you have fallen in love with her.”

  Varian glanced down at his sister-in-law with an odd look on his face. “Have I?”

  “Well, of course you have!” she said reassuringly. “I cannot imagine that anyone could be five minutes in her presence and not be hopelessly cast over, for she is quite beautiful, and a great deal of fun when she is in a good humor! But you haven’t yet learned how to deal with her,” she added knowingly.

  “No, not very well,” Varian said quietly, and abruptly decided that he liked this quiet and calm sister of his, that she had a generous heart, and that if she cared to give him advice on his wife, it would probably be an excellent idea to pay attention to it.

  “In the first place, you had better know straight off that Claire does not allow anyone except Consuela in her chambers when she is ill! For she has gotten it into that head of hers that she doesn’t have any mortal flaws, you see, that she is this elegant creature whom she has made herself into, and she doesn’t want anyone to find out that she’s not! So Claire hides whenever she doesn’t feel well, or when she wishes to have a good cry or throw a tantrum. You have noticed, haven’t you?”

  “That she’s reserved?”

  “That she’s hiding something,” Claudia said, blinking up at him in the dappled sunlight beneath the arbor.

  For an instant he wondered if he ought to sit down; then he recovered himself and gave his sister-in-law a slight smile. “I have wondered,” Drew said. “She told me that she fell in love with someone in Portugal, and that they could never have any happiness together, and since all that is my fault, I have not pried into it overmuch. I had supposed she was hiding that,” he said frankly.

  “Well, I told you that there wasn’t anyone else, and if she has said that there was, then it very much makes me wonder if it’s not you she’s fallen in love with, only she doesn’t wish you to know it,” said Claudia, in perfect logic.

  Something very much like a fence-post struck Lord Banning squarely in the middle; he drew in his breath, and then slowly forced himself to relax, and said, “Why would she not wish me to know it?”

  “Something happened to her in Portugal,” Claudia explained, “that is preventing her, or making her think that she is prevented, from feeling what she wishes to feel for you. But I don’t think that it is another man. Tony and I have discussed it.”

  “Have you?” Varian said, smiling slightly, and seeing very well now why Tony had been so adamant about that second piece of pigeon pie.

  “Yes; and of course, if Claire had the least grasp of logic, you could march straight up to her room and sit down and have it out with her, but she is not,” said her sister with certainty, “like that at all. Her mind is not ruled by fact.”

  “No,” Drew said, pursing his lips in consideration, his blue eyes fixed intently on a spot of flowers beneath a tree some few yards ahead of them.

  “To tell you the truth, I have seen Claire come to the most ridiculous conclusions, without the least attention to the facts of the matter, and then hold to it even in the face of irrefutable truth! But, then again, she is the most lovable, loving person of my acquaintance, so I have stopped holding it against her,” her sister continued. “Tony and I think that perhaps a small— deception might be the best way to get her attention.”

  “A what?”

  “A plan, of course,” Claudia said, nodding. “We’ve got to find out whatever it is has overset her.”

  “Yes; I— ”

  “Only I am quite certain we won’t get it out of her by asking,” she continued. “Have you asked her?”

  “Yes, I have— ”

  “You see,” Claudia nodded to herself, in perfect understanding of the matter. “And Tony swears that you haven’t disgraced yourself in India, or done something that might give her a basis to mistrust you. You haven’t, have you?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “Just as I thought!” Claudia said, nodding again. “Well, there’s only one thing for it! You shall have to fall desperately in love with someone else, in perfect view of Claire!”

  Varian stared at her, his brown face uncomprehending for a moment. “I shall have to do what?”

  “Make her jealous, of course, so she will throw up to you whatever-it-is that she’s got into her brain!”

  The light brows lifted in sudden comprehension. “Claudia— ”

  “Be perfectly polite to her, just as if you’re quite reconciled to this outcast business, and then— ”

  “This what?”

  “You know, what no one in the household is supposed to be aware of,” she said, with a great deal of kindness.

  Drew flushed. “Tony— ”

  “Now, Varian, you may as well know that you haven’t any secrets from your servants, nor shall you ever! Tony didn’t tell me anything!”

  “I— ”

  “Let her think it doesn’t bother you in the least! No more scenes in the library!” said Claudia gently, and added, “For if you must know, it only makes it worse for her to think that you care so very much about her!”

  He laughed, a little unwillingly. “I see that my entire life is writ in black and white,” he said ruefully.

  “Yes, and we have all been very concerned over it! And if I thought there was any way other than your taking up with another woman, I wouldn’t suggest it for the world, but Claire is the stubbornest child imaginable when she makes up her mind to something!”

  Varian had halted in the middle of the walk and now stared down at Claudia’s face beneath her bonnet. “You are suggesting that I should initiate an affair?”

  “Well, no, of course not! Only allow Claire to think that you have!” she said. “I shall confess it; it’s Tony’s idea, not mine! I haven’t the least talent for this sort of thing, but now that we’ve discussed it, I am very much of the opinion that it will be exactly the thing!”

  “But I have just told Claire that I don’t wish her to go out with her bachelor friends! I can’t very well turn around and— ”

  “Well, of course you can! And don’t make such a racket over her riding out with another gentleman; act just as though you don’t give it a second thought! For she very much wishes that you will care a great deal over it, don’t you see! And besides, Varian, we were quite on our own in Portugal, you know, and she is not so innocent as you think. She had to deal with every sort of man imaginable, for you know how beautiful she is, and that untouchability that she acquired gave all of them the strongest wish to make her fall in love with them. Only she didn’t; I haven’t a great deal of talent for knowing other people’s hearts, as she does, but based on a number of observations and some strong circumstantial evidence, I would say that she has always been in love with you.”

  And if Drew was silent for a moment, recalling that first evening that she was home, and remembering her inquiring if he had met Balaghat in June, and a few other things that he had not allowed himself to even think about since, it was not surprising. He said, “Well, I hope you are right, Claudia; and I suppose I am desperate enough to try anything. What do you suggest?”

  “Excellent!” she said, nodding, and told him that Tony was very likely asleep now, for he was fond of a nap after luncheon, and that if Varian wished to go inside and sit down out
of the sun, they would see what they could come up with.

  chapter six

  Plans, Proposals, and Patience

  On the second day of June, after a night of soft summer rain, the hydrangeas, hollyhocks, and a host of pink, scarlet, and yellow bloomers in the back bed of Banning House burst into color. The gazebo had been finished for two days, and Thomas-gardener had put another coat of white paint on the lattice-work before breakfast. It was a glorious, perfect summer day, and the garden that met Claire Drew’s view from the back terrace . . . was hers.

  Claire, thinking Varian would have left early, came down to breakfast a little before nine. The last two weeks she had hardly seen her husband; some business of a ship due in from India had kept him out of the house a great deal since her birthday. But to her surprise, she found him sitting outside on the terrace at the breakfast table, reading the Times in his dark blue riding coat and boots, as if perhaps he had just come in. She halted abruptly in the doorway, subject of a suddenly intense urge to go straight back upstairs to her chamber, and in that instant, the paper descended slightly as he saw her.

  “Good morning, darling,” Drew said pleasantly, as if there had not been this stiff, unspeaking silence between them for the past fortnight which made even pleasantries at the supper table almost impossible.

  Claire could not go back upstairs, now, though; she came out onto the terrace and sat down quietly and took up her napkin without speaking, and saw in that instant the box beside her plate, and knew that he had planned this; and that she was not yet strong enough to go through another agony like that she had endured in the library on her birthday. For a long moment, Claire stared at the box as if she were afraid it would snap at her, and finally drew her eyes away as the paper rustled and was put down.

  “Feeling better, Claire? I have been very worried over you,” Varian said casually, pouring out her tea for her and pushing the toast toward her.

  “I am much better, thank you.” She had been ill; there had been that excruciating headache that had overtaken her at dawn after that sleepless night, followed by a slight head-cold that had developed into a pernicious cough. The accompanying fever had robbed her of energy and her face of color. “You’ve been busy?”

  “No, but it has been easier to seem that way,” Drew said, after a slight hesitation. He smiled pleasantly at her. “I have been very bad company, I am afraid,” he added, “worrying over this ship; it was due four weeks ago, you know, and I have begun to have nightmares over it.”

  “What sort of ship?”

  “Just a merchant vessel; I caught passage on the fastest thing I could after I received word of your father’s death. I had to ship my baggage home separately. And of course there were some loose ends left untied in my business; I don’t know yet how it’s all turned out. Perhaps you will forgive me the last two weeks if I will promise to be more cheerful?”

  Claire stared at him for a moment and then smiled slightly, uncertainly; she said, “It’s not all my fault?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I— I thought that I had hurt you— ” she said suddenly, without thinking.

  “Well, yes, you did, you know,” Varian admitted, with a slight nod of his head. “I had gone to a great deal of trouble over that ring, and especially after I discovered all that mess at the bank; I felt very badly over that, and I wished to make up for it a little.”

  For an instant she sat very still; then the world rushed back in upon her, and her eyes fell to her empty plate. “If you must know, I have thought a great deal about our— our conversation,” she said after a moment. She was pale; her lovely color had become just a delicate tinge along her cheekbone, and he realized then that she had been very much more ill than he had supposed. “I am rather impulsive at times,” she said, tracing the silver band of her plate with one slender fingertip. “I wished— afterwards— that I hadn’t been so hasty. Only I hadn’t an idea how to tell you. You have seemed— ”

  “I have been in the worst humor imaginable,” he confessed, and reached across the table to tilt up her chin. “There; we’ve both apologized, and I for one feel much better having said it all, and I promise to try a little harder. For I do care for you, Claire. I want very much that you should be happy here, in whatever way that you can.”

  She attempted a smile. “I am happy; look there, I think the marigolds are budded,” she said, gazing past him, and eliciting a smile from him.

  “Have you been out yet to inspect your gazebo?”

  “No; I— ”

  “Excellent. Eat up your breakfast and we shall have a stroll around the garden, and then perhaps a drive in the Park this morning. The tulips in your cheeks have— You weren’t promised to someone else this morning, were you?” he asked suddenly.

  “No, of course not!”

  “For I don’t wish to take you away from your friends; will you allow me to apologize for my very hasty accusations over Mr Fiske? In fact, I have considered it all, and I see now that I was much too harsh. Of course you may have your friends. I shan’t ever question you again.”

  Claire stared at her husband with a slight frown. “You shan’t?”

  “I am certain that you are the soul of propriety, and that I’ve nothing at all to worry over,” Varian said, allowing his eyes to drift toward his paper. “But if you’re not already promised this morning, you shan’t mind my company for an hour or two?”

  “No, of course not,” she said, and lifted a piece of toast to her plate. “I suppose we had ought to plan on Claudia as well.”

  “Claudia? I rather doubt it,” he said negligently from behind the paper. “I believe she has already left this morning; in fact, I doubt we will see her again before dinner.”

  “She’s not upstairs reading or somesuch?”

  “Claudia, my dear, has hardly been home for the past fortnight!”

  “Claudia?” asked her sister, her butter knife suspended in midair.

  “She has been spending her mornings in the Library at the Museum, and lunching regularly at Brown’s and Clarendon’s with Tony,” Drew said, with the hint of a smile in his very blue eyes as he poured himself out a second cup of tea.

  “Tony Merrill?” Claire repeated in some surprise.

  “Well, yes, and I rather think they will be very happy, if Tony can call up the energy to propose to her,” said her husband, chuckling, and going back to his paper. “He dislikes exertion so very much, you know!”

  “My sister?” asked Claire, staring at the newsprint in front of his face.

  “Why did you think that I suggested you invite her down?” he said from behind his paper. “Tony’s been in love with her since he brought her back from Portugal, only he wouldn’t have exerted himself to do anything over it if I hadn’t made a point to throw them together a little.”

  “You’ve been matchmaking, Varian!” Claire said in astonishment.

  “Well, of course!” The paper disappeared; there was a teasing light in his blue eyes that she had not seen in a very long time, and it inexplicably lightened her heart. “I have always seen to it that Tony was pushed into things that he ought to do; he is the laziest thing in the world unless someone piques his interest, and I am occasionally headstrong and impulsive unless someone tempers mine. We have been friends since Harrow, you know. Do you intend to eat that toast or butter it to death?”

  Here was the old Varian that she had liked so much; she smiled at him, and laid down her butter knife. “Well, I am very glad I’ve been ill, then, for likely it has pushed things along to leave them alone!” Claire said, casually.

  “Yes,” he nodded, and gazed at her a moment and then said, “I came up to see you a time or two, and Consuela turned me away. She said you didn’t care for visitors.”

  “No, I like to be left alone when I am ill,” she said, smiling brightly, and taking a bite of her toast.

  “You know, I felt very badly about your not wanting to see me, until Claudia told me the same thing,” Varian said,
nodding. “We’ve gotten to be excellent friends, in fact.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes; I’ve learned a great deal about Portugal,” he said lightly, without elaboration. “Which reminds me: your students are making notable progress! I have heard Consuela speaking this morning to Stiles, and she is doing very well; as is Rajat! I am very much impressed!” He saw her half-eaten toast lying forgotten on her plate. “Haven’t you got back your appetite yet?”

  Claire looked away. “I— No, I suppose not,” she said.

  “Perhaps an ice at Guenther’s? After the Park?” he asked.

  “You’re very kind to think of me,” she said, nodding, and looking uncomfortable.

  Drew gazed at her face for a moment. “Perhaps you might tell me what it is that has overset you so, Claire, if I promised not to lose my temper over it?” he asked gently, determined to try once more.

  After a slight intake of breath, she laid her slender hands on the table either side of her plate. “There’s nothing; I am only a little tired, I suppose, after having kept so much to my rooms.”

  “You’re not pining away for this gentleman to whom you’ve lost your heart?” Varian asked, schooling himself to exhibit not the least feeling, other than a sort of friendly concern, in that casual question.

  The sudden tremble in her chin lifted his spirits immensely; she shook her head, and said, “No, that is quite hopeless. I wish you won’t speak of it again.”

  “Very well,” he said. Her continued reticence confirmed everything Claudia had said. There was only one way to go about this.

  Drew asked her pleasantly if she might not like to walk around the garden, and they strolled side by side. With a great deal of forbearance, he did not even offer his arm, but entertained her with the most casual conversation for half an hour, until it was time for her students.

  The Drews attended Lady Shelby’s annual dress ball that Friday; it was the first large function that Lady Banning undertook after her reappearance from the sickroom, and her circle of admirers greeted her with enthusiasm and many expressions of sympathy, for it was quite obvious by her paleness that she had been very seriously ill.