Spell of the Island (17 page)

‘I could lend you the money.’ Pierre made the offer after watching her expression for several seconds. ‘You look so worried, and it shouldn’t be like that. Yes,’ he added decisively, ‘I’ll lend you the money.’

‘Oh, thank you very much, Pierre!’ She might be lucky and get on this afternoon’s flight, she thought . . . but she would be leaving without saying goodbye to Paul. . . .

Mrs. Morris had lost weight and colour; Emma was shocked by her appearance as she looked down into the ashen face and noticed the sunken cheeks, the dull, half-closed eyes.

There had been a slight deterioration in her condition, Louise had said when Emma arrived very early that morning. But Louise had added that the
doctor was hopeful of an improvement within the next couple of days.

‘The worst is almost over,’ she ended, quoting the doctor’s words.

‘I’m so glad to have you both back.’ Mrs. Morris’s voice was weak, and somewhat hoarse as if she had a sore throat. ‘Thank you for bringing Louise home, Emma. You’re a good, sensible girl.’

Good and sensible . . . bitterness brought a twist to Emma’s mouth. Not much sense in falling in love with a man like Paul Fanchette!

Once the girls were alone in the living-room, Louise naturally mentioned Paul.

‘I left when he was out,’ explained Emma, ‘so I didn’t say good-bye.’

Louise frowned.

‘Did you have to do that?’

Emma shrugged.

‘He’d gone off somewhere for the full day—so Pierre said, I suppose one of the servants told him because, he didn’t see Paul before he left the chateau. If he had done so, he was going to ask him for the money to buy my air ticket.’

‘Pierre was?’ in a puzzled voice. ‘But why him? Couldn’t you ask Paul yourself?’

‘I didn’t like.’ She paused. ‘Paul was not at all friendly with me during those last two or three days after you left.’

‘That seems strange. . . .’ Louise was thoughtful, recalling incidents which had made an impression on her mind. Philanderer Paul Fanchette might have been . . . but had he met his match in Emma? ‘Why should he be unfriendly towards you when you’d saved his nephew from drowning?’

‘I didn’t save Jeremy; Pierre did.’

‘Rubbish!’ snapped Louise irritably. ‘You know very well that it was you! And I say again: why should Paul be unfriendly at a time when he should have been showing deep gratitude?’

‘We’ve both agreed that he’s a strange man—unpredictable.’

Louise’s blue eyes were narrowed.

‘I’ve said several times that there’s something I don’t understand. Have you said or done anything to which he could take exception?’

‘Many a time.’

‘You have?’

‘We never agreed right from the first.’

‘And yet you fell in love with him?’ Louise’s tone was dry.

‘I’d rather not talk about Paul. He said he knew my opinion of him, and after that he was coolness itself.’

‘Your opinion of him?’ repeated Louise wrinkling her wide brow in puzzlement. ‘You must have given it to him pretty strong, then?’

‘I expect I did. I told him several times that he was pompous and arrogant, full of his own importance and superiority.’

‘Is that all?’ queried Louise and her sister blinked.

‘Surely it was enough.’

‘If you’d said it several times it must have lost its sting. No, there must have been some other reason for Paul’s coolness.’ There was a small silence and then, slowly and deliberately, ‘It’s my belief that Paul has seen something in you he’s never seen before in any other woman.’

Emma was silent for a space, remembering the
several occasions when Paul had admitted to seeing something in her that he had never seen in a woman before. And yet he only wanted her for his mistress. . . . Did it really make sense? A sigh escaped her as even yet again she wished she could understand the complex character of the man.

Louise was speaking, saying something that made Emma’s heart beat a little faster and her eyes open to their fullest extent.

‘In my opinion, Emma, Paul wants to marry you.’

‘Are you crazy! If he wants to marry me then he’d have proposed.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘I don’t know what gave you that idea, Louise, but it’s stupid.’

‘Think, Emma! Go over certain incidents; recollect the way he was with you, sometimes almost proprietorial in his attitude.’ Louise’s whole manner was one of impatience, and for the very first time she was the one who seemed older, wiser and more mature. ‘At some point in your relationship you must have had a feeling that he was beginning to care for you—don’t shake your head like that! Why did he keep you there, at his house. If he was totally indifferent to you, he’d have given you your air fare when he gave me mine.’

‘Pierre believes it merely slipped his memory—’

‘Rubbish! How could a thing like that slip his memory?’ Louise shook her head. ‘No, in my opinion that was his weapon; he could keep you there. . . .’ She tailed off and gave a deep, impatient sigh. ‘Yet he didn’t propose to you, or even be friendly, you’ve said. I feel sure there is some very strong reason why he was so off-hand with you and yet, conversely, he couldn’t bear to let you go.’

‘Couldn’t bear—’ Although the exclamation carried disbelief, Emma was recalling incidents, as her sister told her to; and she had to admit that Louise was right when she implied that she, Emma, had suspected that Paul had begun to care for her. She looked at Louise, aware of racing heartbeats and irregular pulse. Could it be true? The signs were there, but Emma was afraid to accept them. Nevertheless she said, ‘You really believe he—he had begun to—to care?’

‘It should be obvious. Why else should he deliberately keep you without the money for your fare home?’

‘At the time he gave you yours I wasn’t fit to travel—or so the doctor said.’

‘I’d like to bet that Paul asked him to say that.’

Emma said reflectively, ‘As a matter of fact, I actually accused Paul of doing just that.’

It strikes me,’ commented her sister scathingly, ‘that you’re about as blind as they come. There were many signs that even I noticed, so you—if you’d only been alert—must have seen numerous signs. I’d bet everything I have that Paul fell in love with you—’

‘Then why didn’t he say so? And why didn’t he ask me to marry him?’

‘There’s some reason for his attitude,’ admitted Louise with a frown of perplexity. ‘Are you sure you didn’t do anything to turn him against you—no, that’s not what I really mean,’ she amended, and for a long moment she was lost in thought. ‘He knows your opinion of him, he said. Anything else?’

‘He said I needn’t be afraid of any unwanted attention from him.’

Louise utterd a little impatient sound.

‘Did it not strike you that he was piqued about something?’

It was Emma’s turn to become thoughtful. She looked at her sister, recalling that it was she who had fallen for Paul at first, and Emma had been fearful of her reaction should she discover what was going on between Paul and herself. Now, it seemed, Louise was more than anxious to have Paul for a brother-in-law!

‘I must admit,’ she mused at length, ‘that when Paul spoke those words about his being fully aware of my opinion of him, I did feel that there was something deeper than the actual recollection by him of things I had previously said—’

‘You mean about his being pompous, etc.?’

Emma nodded her head.

‘Yes, that’s right. He seemed—sort of—bitter,’ she mused.

‘It’s as I said: it had lost its sting . . . but something else stung him even deeper.’ Louise looked at her and added almost forcefully, ‘Can’t you remember anything else you might have said to cause him to take that cool unfriendly attitude towards you?’

‘No, I’m sure I never said anything else.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘We’re just wasting time, Louise. Let’s forget all about Paul Fanchette. I’m going back upstairs to Mother. I know she was asleep when we left her, but she might have wakened by now.’

Louise watched her go, steps dragging. She looked at her watch, Mauritius time was about four hours ahead of GMT. . . . It would be around ten o’clock at night there. Paul should still be up.

*   *   *

Just as the doctor predicted, Mrs. Morris began to improve and was soon sitting up in bed.

‘It’s miraculous!’ exclaimed Louise as she showed the doctor to the door. ‘We’ve nothing to worry about now?’

‘Not a thing. It wasn’t ever an illness that could end up in disaster,’ he went on with a smile. ‘But it was worrying for you girls who’d never had their mother ill before. She needs care, and a good long holiday—abroad if it can be done?’

‘Emma and I might manage it,’ said Louise.

‘Try,’ he advised. ‘A complete change of scenery often works wonders.’

Emma and Louise talked about it and totalled up their savings. Emma knew that Paul would pay Pierre the money he had lent her, so she decided to forget all about it. Together the two girls had enough to give their mother a three-week holiday somewhere on the Continent; and as Emma had to go into work, Louise would be the one to accompany her mother.

Of course, Mrs. Morris objected strongly to the girls spending their savings in this way, but she was overruled. Louise, meanwhile, seemed to have something else on her mind and one day Emma said, subjecting her to a keen scrutiny, ‘Is something wrong, Louise? You seem troubled these days?’

The careless shrug did not deceive Emma any more than the casual reply.

‘Nothing at all. Don’t know why you asked.’

Emma said slowly, ‘Is it a job—I mean, are you afraid it won’t be easy for you to get one?’

‘I rather think I can go back to my old one. Mr.
Fleming did say at the time I left that if I didn’t like Mauritius I must come back and see him.’

‘Oh, good!’ This at least was a problem solved, a problem that Emma had been secretly worrying about ever since Louise had decided to leave Paul’s employ. ‘Are you sure you haven’t any other worry?’ she just had to ask presently. ‘I sense there is something on your mind all the time.’

‘Well, there isn’t, so don’t fuss.’ She walked out of the room with an air of impatience, and Emma stood staring after her. Something was the matter, but as once before, Emma knew without any doubt at all that she would get nothing out of her sister.

It was just over a week since Emma left Mauritius. She was back at work, but each day dragged, and the evenings even more so. She seemed to be seeing Paul during every waking hour and prayed that life would one day become interesting again. She had been so happy in her job before going to Mauritius, but now she had no enthusiasm; everything she did was a chore whether it be at work or at home. However, she was looking forward to the week-end for she was going to see her mother. Louise quite naturally was not looking for a job yet; she would do that after the planned holiday was over.

Emma drove up on the Saturday morning, starting out early so she would arrive before lunch. There was a car outside the house, and her heart gave a great lurch. Was her mother ill again? It was with some urgency that she slid from her car and rang the bell. Louise opened it, and her expression not only reassured Emma but it also puzzled her a little. For
there was a very satisfied look in her eyes as she said brightly, ‘Come right in, Emma. I have—’

‘That car. . . .’ Emma twisted her head around as she entered the small hall of her mother’s house. ‘I thought at first it might be the doctor.’

‘No,” said Louise slowly as she closed the door behind her sister, ‘it isn’t the doctor.’

‘I realise that now, but whose is it?’

‘We have a visitor—it’s a hired car I expect,’ added Louise as she stood waiting for Emma to precede her into the living-room from where voices could be heard, those of Mrs. Morris and. . . .

‘Paul!’ Suddenly Emma’s legs felt weak, and her heart was racing madly. ‘What—why—?’

‘Go right in,’ advised Louise, but Emma held back, her whole body trembling.

‘I can’t! He—’ She looked at Louise through lashes that were suddenly stiff with moisture. ‘How did he get here?’ she quivered, holding a hand to her heart.

‘By airplane, I expect—’

‘Louise!’

‘Sorry,’ with some amusement. Louise was certainly very pleased with herself, noticed Emma. ‘He’s here at my invitation. If you must have an explanation, here it is.’ Louise drew Emma back along the hall and spoke in a low tone. ‘I rang the chateau one night, but the phone was answered by Eileen—much to my disgust.’

‘But why did you phone the chateau?’ asked Emma as her sister paused a moment. Louise stared at her with undisguised impatience.

‘Because it was obvious that he loves you. I
wanted to know what had happened to—well—make him go off you, to put it in the modern idiom. He told me that you’d said outright to Eileen that you detested him. Did you?’ inquired Louise with interest.

Emma started. She had completely forgotten saying that to Eileen, and now that it was brought to her memory she felt herself colouring up.

‘Yes, I did,’ confessed Emma but went on swiftly to explain, ‘She’d goaded me, implying that I’d fallen for Paul, so I said I detested him—’

‘You idiot. Didn’t it strike you that she’d be ready to repeat anything you might say about Paul?’

‘I would never have expected her to repeat it.’

‘She wants the man herself, remember, and her methods of turning him off you would naturally be unscrupulous. As I said, she answered the phone and said Paul was out. I couldn’t believe it and rang again the next day. Eileen again! This time she said Paul was away from home and would not be returning for several weeks. Well, that was a lie; I saw it at once so decided to keep on phoning until I did get Paul. He was blazing mad when I told him that Eileen had answered each time and said he was away. It happened that, just by chance, he was either out in the garden or had gone into town; whatever the reason, Eileen by sheer luck, answered my calls. However,’ went on Louise with a narrowed and determined gaze, ‘I would never have let up. The darned girl couldn’t possibly answer Paul’s phone for evermore! I told him you’re madly in love with him and said there must be some excuse for your saying you detested him. I think you’d better go in,’ recommended Louise with a sort of triumphant
grin. ‘He knows it was you who rang the bell just now. And I guess he’s already losing his patience. He’ll probably slate you good and hard before he proposes.’ Louise had walked on with Emma, legs still weak, following behind. ‘Mother and I are just going out—to do some shopping,’ said Louise over her shoulder.