“How did you find out your mistake?”
“I took her home and she did not illuminate my house.”
“What a terrible test for any girl to have to go through.”
“You
have passed it.”
“Me?”
“Last night you gave my house a soul. I couldn’t bear it when you left. It was as if the sun had gone in. I got rid of my guests as soon as I could and then I couldn’t stay in the house. I went out and walked on the Embankment. It was a strange night. I felt somehow exalted and had an extraordinary sense of peace—but it’s been quite different all day—I’ve merely been restless. I couldn’t work; I couldn’t do anything
...
And you? How did you feel all day? Did you think of me at all?”
“Yes, I thought of you.” Her voice was very low.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We keep on being interrupted. I’ve got the car outside and I’ll take you for a drive. It’s quite a warm evening, but if you’re cold there’s the heater
...
But while I’m waiting for the bill, tell me the story of the blue rose.”
“It’s a silly little story really, but it’s always appealed to me
...
Once there was a very beautiful princess, and she was so beautiful that all the neighbouring princes and all the eligible men of the country wanted to marry her, but it was given out that she would only marry the suitor who would bring her a blue rose. This put all her suitors on their mettle and they travelled far and wide looking for a blue rose. One prince got some white roses dyed blue, but she saw through this trick, and another got a marvellous sapphire carved into a rose for her, and another a wonderful vase with an exquisite blue rose painted on it—but she would have none of them. And then one evening of full moon a minstrel came and played under her window and she looked out and they fell in love with each other like Romeo and Juliet, but when the dawn came she had to tell him of the condition which had been imposed before she could consent to marry anyone
...
He told her not to worry and that evening he came to the palace with a common white rose that he had picked out of a cottage garden, and presented himself as a suitor. And the princess when she saw the white rose exclaimed: ‘Here at last is the blue rose. This is the man I shall marry.’ The courtiers all told her that it was a white rose but she said: ‘Not at all, it is a blue rose,’ and there was nothing they could do about it; so she and her minstrel were married and lived happily ever afterwards.”
“And is that the condition you are going to impose on me?” Stephen asked quietly when she had finished the story.
“What condition?”
“Do I have to bring you a blue rose before you will consent to marry me?”
“Marry you?”
“Why do you sound so surprised? What do you think I have been saying to you all evening?
...
But I never intended to propose in a restaurant. Come on, let’s go.
”
CHAPTER FIVE
IT was a quarter to three that morning before Rose got in, and Francie was anxiously waiting up for her. “I couldn’t think what had happened to you,” Francie whispered in the tiny hall so as not to wake Derek. “Where on earth have you been?”
“I don’t know. In paradise, I think.”
Rose’s eyes were like stars, and Francie thought: “Oh, God, she’s been and lost her heart to him.” Aloud she asked: “Have you been to a night club?”
“No, we’ve been driving. I don’t know where. The Hog’s Back I think
...
Oh, Francie, he wants me to marry him.”
“But you hardly know each other!”
“I know, that’s what I said.”
“Have you accepted him?” Francie was aghast.
“No, not definitely. I said I would have to think it over. After all, we know each other so little.”
“But this is serious,” Francie said. “Let’s go into your room. We don’t want to wake Derek.”
“Oh, it’s too late to talk,” Rose protested. She wanted to be left alone to savour her happiness.
“You can sleep all the morning.”
“No, I’ve got to give him an answer to-morrow. I shall have to think all the morning.”
“Are you in love with him?” Francie asked. She had no doubt of the answer because of the radiance brimming from Rose.
“Yes, I suppose this is love,” Rose replied musingly. “Oh, Francie, it must seem absurd to you. You must think we hardly know each other, but I
feel
I know him. We talked about everything under the sun. I don’t think there was anything we didn’t talk about.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t accept him at once,” Francie said. “Do please, darling, take a little time to think it over. You told me yourself only the other day that you didn’t feel ready for marriage yet.”
“But I hadn’t met him then.”
“And how can
he
be sure either after such a short time?”
“He has never proposed to any other girl,” Rose said.
“He
has no doubts
...
Oh, Francie, don’t spoil it for me
—
please. I never knew that such happiness existed. Perhaps I shall feel commonsensical in the morning and realize that it was all an impossible dream, but please don’t say any more to-night. Let me have to-night. Don’t destroy the magic for me.”
“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t want to spoil anything for you. You’re quite right. It’s too late to talk now anyhow. I’m sorry I began it. Sleep happily.” She kissed her and returned to her own room.
Rose undressed quickly and got into bed. Could she recapture the magic? Yes, it was there, warm and safe in her heart. He was close to her; she could hear his voice again; she could feel his hands holding hers. With a thrill she heard him say again: “I am not going to kiss you until you are as sure as I am.” He had not kissed her once, though secretly she had longed for him to do so. “It’s just as well,” she told herself as she lay there in the dark. “If he had kissed me I shouldn’t have been able to resist him. I should have agreed to anything he asked. I should have found myself engaged to him on the spot
...
It would have been madness to accept him without any thought. Surely I was right to say I must think it over? We must
both
think it over. Less than a week ago we didn’t even know of each other’s existence
...
But supposing he thinks better of it in the morning?” This idea was so painful that it might have told her how little chance she had of refusing him.
She didn’t want to sleep because in sleep she would lose consciousness of her happiness, and she was far too young to worry about looking tired next day. She was to meet him at his house at six-thirty the next evening and they were to dine together again. By that time he would expect her answer. Was she really in any doubt as to what her answer would be?
II
She did fall asleep eventually in spite of herself, and Francie let her sleep on. Francie was extremely worried and Derek could say nothing to reassure her when she talked it over with him. She told him to go out without her; she was going to stay in that morning in order to have a long talk to Rose. “Of course if he’s really in earnest I suppose it’s a wonderful thing for her,” Derek said.
“Yes, but
is
he in earnest? It seems too good to be true. It’s like a fairy story. Of all the girls he must have met it seems extraordinary that he should have fallen for her quite so quickly and so seriously. According to her she’s the first girl he has ever proposed to.”
“Perhaps she is,” Derek said.
“Can you really believe that?
...
I would like to ring up Clare and have a talk to her. She knows him extremely well and would probably know better than anybody whether he was serious or not.”
“Why don’t you then?”
“I don’t like to. It’s Rose’s secret. And if she turns
him
down—though judging by the look of her last night I don’t think there’s any chance of it—she probably wouldn’t want Clare to know
...
Oh, dear, why have I got this instinctive mistrust of him? If only I could believe in him I’d be so happy for her. Wouldn’t it be wonderful? He’s got everything
...
I suppose that’s just the point. It’s too good to be true, as I said before. One can’t help suspecting that there must be a snag in it somewhere.”
“Well, I must be off,” Derek said. “It’ll be easier to talk to her if I’m out of the way. I’ll meet you at the shop at four. I do hope everything goes all right,” and he kissed her good-bye with a special tenderness because he knew that she was worried.
Before Rose woke a long, white box from a florist’s shop arrived for her.
It was after twelve when Rose emerged from her room in her dressing-gown and Francie felt a strange little pang when she saw her, so lovely did she look. There was an exquisite bloom on her.
“Oh, why did you let me sleep so late?” she demanded. “The water’s boiling. I’ll make you some fresh coffee,” Francie said.
“I’ll make it. You mustn’t wait on me.”
“There are some flowers come for you.”
“Oh, where?”
Francie handed her the box and was pleased that Rose opened it there and then in front of her. She couldn’t help being curious to see what kind of flowers this man had sent, for she had no doubt that they were from him. To her intense disappointment, however, the box contained merely a single white rose. There was not even a card; but judging from Rose’s expression this one white flower meant as much to her as the most expensive bouquet. Her cheeks went pink and a lovely smile lit up her face and shone tenderly in her eyes. She looked thoughtfully at the rose for some moments and then gave a long sigh. “Do you mind, I must send a telegram,” she said. “May I send it over the telephone? I’ll pay you back.”
“Do you want to be left alone?” Francie asked.
“No. It doesn’t matter.” She went over to the telephone and flipped the pages of the book E-K. Then she lifted the receiver and dialled ‘Telegrams’. She gave her own number and then Stephen Hume’s name and his address at the bank. Francie was intensely interested to hear what the message was going to be, but when it came she was completely mystified by it: “It is the blue rose at last
...
No, there’s no signature. That’s all, thank you.” She put down the receiver and turned a radiant face to Francie. “It’s no good warning me any more, Francie darling,” she said. “I’ve just accepted him.” Then she got up and flung herself into her cousin’s arms.
III
It was Stephen himself who opened the door to Rose when she arrived at his house that evening. He didn’t say a word but took her by the hand and led her into the drawing-room, and there he kissed her for the first time. It was a long, long kiss in which they touched the timeless ecstasy of lovers. When they broke away from each other at last they still could not speak, and he caught her back to him and kissed her again as if it was only in that way that he could show her all that was in his heart.
“Oh, Rose, Rose,” he said at last. “My Rose
...
I loved your telegram. It was the nicest possible way you could have given me your answer. I shall keep it always. I’ve got it here in my note-case where it will stay for ever.”
“It was the nicest possible way you could have told me that you still felt the same this morning,” she said.
“Did you think I might have changed?”
“I was afraid you might!”
They were absurdly, childishly happy. “I don’t know what I want to do most,” he said; “go on kissing you or show you the house or introduce you to Antonio and Vittoria as my
fiancée
—that’s exciting. They are the
Italian couple who look after me. I hope you will like them, but if you don’t we shall get rid of them. And if you don’t like the house we shall get rid of that too
...
I’ve arranged that we should dine here this evening, is that all right? Now we are engaged it’s perfectly respectable, isn’t it?
...
Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“I’d love to.”
“This is the drawing-room cum dining-room. We dine that end where the piano is. There are french windows that end which lead to a little garden, but unfortunately it’s too dark to see it. It’s paved, with a fountain. This was two rooms, but when Clare did the house up for me last year she knocked them into one. By the way she must be the first person to hear about us because it was all through her that we met
.
We’ll ring her up after dinner
...
Now I’ll show you the rest of the house.” Holding her hand tightly he led her across the little panelled hall to a book-
l
ined room on the other side which was his study. “This is where I sit when I’m alone,” he said. “That’s all there is on the ground floor. Now we’ll go upstairs.”
On the first floor there was a bedroom, dressing-room and bathroom. “This will be our suite,” he said, “but I expect you’ll want to change it a bit. You’ll want a more feminine dressing-table and we’ll have to get another bed. The bedroom looks on to the gardens so it’s very quiet. There’s a little balcony.”
“It’s just like being in the country, how lovely,” Rose said.
“Well, it should be, but it’s not, somehow. I don’t quite know why. There’s something lacking in this house. I think it’s your presence
...
That’s all there is on this floor. There’s one more floor above, roughly corresponding to this only the rooms are lower, which isn’t furnished, and then a boxroom-attic above
...
Do you want to see it?”
“Oh, yes, I want to see everything.”
The upstairs rooms were quite bare. “Where do your couple sleep?” Rose asked.
“They’ve got their own room and bathroom in the basement. It’s a semi-basement really. It’s very light for a basement because it’s got the garden
...
You know what this floor will be?”
She nodded shyly.
“How many do you want?” he asked.
“How many do you?”
“I always think a boy and a girl is the ideal family.”
“As you were.”
“Yes, with the boy older so that he can look after his sister.”
“As you did. Oh, how I wish I could meet your sister. What will she think of me?”
“She’ll adore you. She has been longing for me to get married. Tomor
r
ow I’ll write and tell her all about you. Have you got a photograph I can send her?
...
Then we must get you photographed at once. Oh, there’s so much to do
...
How soon are you going to marry me, Rose? I suppose I mustn’t rush you. Next month? April? We’ll go to Florence for our honeymoon. Would you like that? April in Italy
...
Oh, my dearest darling, there’s so much I’ve got to show you—so much I want to share with you
...
We’ll talk about it presently, but now I must take you down and introduce you.”
Still holding her hand he led her down into the kitchen. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he announced gaily to Antonio and Vittoria. “We are going to be married.” Vittoria particularly was loud in her congratulations. She was a good-looking girl with a mop of black curls. Antonio was quieter but seemed no less pleased. He said that he had seen it coming.
“But how could you?” Stephen demanded.
“I had my feeling when the Signorina came the other evening. I said to Vittoria
...”
“Yes, he did,” Vittoria chimed in.
Rose was delighted by their welcome. They might so easily have been resentful of her. Everything seemed to be conspiring towards her happiness. “It’s all just too wonderful to be true,” she found herself thinking. Aloud she said to Stephen when they were upstairs by themselves again: “I’m not going to wake up to find it’s all a dream, am I? Can there be so much happiness?”
For answer he kissed her. “Does that seem unreal?” he asked.