The Moon out of Reach Part 36

Her lids fell swiftly, veiling her eyes, and she turned her face quickly towards his shoulder. All that remained visible was the edge of the little turban hat she wore and, below this, a dusky sweep of hair against her white skin.

He went on in silence, conscious in every fibre of his being of the supple body gathered so close against his own, of the young, sweet, clean-cut curve of her cheek, and of the warmth of her hair against his shoulder. He jerked his head aside, his mouth set grimly, and crossed quickly to the other bank of the river.

As he let her slip to the ground, steadying her with his arms about her, he bent swiftly and for an instant his lips just brushed her hair.

Nan scarcely felt the touch of his kiss, it fell so lightly, but she sensed it through every nerve of her. Standing in the twilight, shaken and clutching wildly after her self-control, she knew that if he touched her again or took her in his arms, she would yield helplessly--gladly!

Peter knew it, too, knew that the merest thread of courage and self-respect kept them apart. His arms strained at his sides. Forcing his voice to an impersonal, level tone, he said practically:

"It's getting late. Come on, little pal, we must make up time, or they'll be sending out a search party for us from Mallow."

It was late in the evening before Nan and Peter found themselves alone together again. Everyone was standing about in the big hall exchanging good nights and last snippets of talk before taking their several ways to bed. Peter drew Nan a little to one side.

"Nan, is it true that you're engaged to Trenby?" he asked.

"Quite true." She had to force the answer to her lips. Mallory's face was rather stern.

"Why didn't you tell me this afternoon?"

"I--I couldn't, Peter," she said, under her breath. "I couldn't."

His face still wore that white, unsmiling look. But he drew Nan's shaking hands between his own and held them very gently as he put his next question.

"You don't care for him." It was more an a.s.sertion, than a question, though it demanded a reply.

"No."

His grasp of her hands tightened.

"Then, for G.o.d's sake, don't make the same hash of your life as I made of mine. Believe me, Nan"--his voice roughened--"it's far worse to be married to someone you don't love than to remain unmarried all your days."

CHAPTER XIV

RELATIONS-IN-LAW

"I am very glad to meet you, my dear."

The frosty voice entirely failed to confirm the sense of the words as Lady Gertrude Trenby bent forward and imprinted a somewhat chilly kiss on Nan's cheek.

She was a tall woman, thin and aristocratic-looking, with a repressive manner that inspired her domestic staff with awe and her acquaintances with a nervous anxiety to placate her.

Nan shrank sensitively, and glanced upward to see if there were anything in her future mother-in-law's face which might serve to contradict the coldness of her greeting. But there was nothing. It was a stern, aquiline type of face, with a thin-lipped mouth and hard, obstinate chin, and the iron-grey hair, dressed in a high, stiff fas.h.i.+on, which suggested that no single hair would ever be allowed to stray from its lawful place, seemed to emphasise its severity.

The chilly welcome, then, was intentional--not the result of shyness or a natural awkwardness with strangers. Lady Gertrude was perfectly composed, and Nan felt an inward conviction that the news of Roger's engagement had not met with her approval. Perhaps she resented the idea of relinquis.h.i.+ng the reins of government at Trenby Hall in favour of a daughter-in-law. It was quite possible, few mothers of sons who have retained their bachelorhood as long as Roger enjoy being relegated to the position of dowager. They have reigned too long to relish abdication.

As Nan replied conventionally to Lady Gertrude's greeting, some such thoughts as these flashed fugitively through her mind, and with them came a rather tender, girlish determination, to make the transition as easy as possible to the elder woman when the time came for it. The situation made a quick appeal to her eager sympathies. She could imagine so exactly how she herself would detest it if she were in the other woman's position. Somewhat absorbed in this line of thought, she followed her hostess into a stiff and formal-looking drawing-room which conveyed the same sense of frigidity as Lady Gertrude's welcome.

There are some rooms you seem to know and love almost the moment you enter them, while with others you feel that you will never get on terms of friendliness. Nan suddenly longed for the dear, comfortable intimacy of the panelled hall at Mallow, with its ma.s.ses of freshly-cut flowers making a riot of colour against the dark oak background, its Persian rugs dimmed to a mellow richness by the pa.s.sage of time, and the sweet, "homey" atmosphere of it all.

Behind her back she made a desperate little gesture to Roger that he should follow her, but he shook his head laughingly and went off in another direction, thinking in his unsubtle mind that this was just the occasion for his mother and his future wife to get well acquainted.

He felt sure that Nan's charm would soon overcome the various objections which Lady Gertrude had raised to the engagement when he had first confided his news to her. She had not minced matters.

"But, my dear Roger, from all I've heard, Nan Davenant is a most unsuitable woman to be your wife. For one thing, she is, I believe, a professional pianist." The thin lips seemed to grow still thinner as they propounded the indictment.

Most people, nowadays, would have laughed outright, but Roger, being altogether out of touch with the modern att.i.tude towards such matters, regarded his mother's objection as quite a normal and reasonable one.

It must be overcome in this particular instance, that was all.

"But, of course, Nan will give up everything of that kind when she's my wife," he a.s.serted confidently. And quite believed it, since he had a touching faith in the idea that a woman can be "moulded" by her husband.

"Roger has rather taken me by surprise with the news of his engagement," said Lady Gertrude, after she and Nan had exchanged a few laboured plat.i.tudes. "Do you think you will be happy with him? We live a very simple country existence here, you know."

To Nan, the use of the word "we" sounded rather as though she were proposing to marry the family.

"Oh, I like country life very much," she replied. "After all, you can always vary the monotony by running up to town or going abroad, can't you?"

"I don't think Roger cares much for travelling about. He is extremely attached to his home. We have always made everything so easy and comfortable for him here, you see," responded Lady Gertrude, with a certain significance.

Nan surmised she was intended to gather that it would be her duty to make everything "so easy and comfortable" for him in the future! She almost smiled. Most of the married men she knew were kept busy seeing that everything was made easy and comfortable for their wives.

"Still," continued Lady Gertrude, "there could be no objection to your making an occasional trip to London."

She had a dry, decisive method of speech which gave one the impression she was well accustomed to laying down the law--and that her laws were expected to remain unbroken. The "occasional trip to London" sounded bleakly in Nan's ears. Still, she argued, Lady Gertrude would only be her mother-in-law--and she was sure she could "manage" Roger. There is a somewhat pathetic element in the way in which so many people light-heartedly enter into marriage, the man confident in his ability to "mould" his wife, the woman never doubting her power to "manage"

him. It all seems quite simple during the adaptable period of engagement, when romance spreads a veil of glamour over the two people concerned, effectually concealing for the time being the wide gulf of temperament that lies between them. It is only after the knot has been tied that the unlooked-for difficulties of managing and moulding present themselves.

Nan found it increasingly difficult to sustain her side of the conversation with Lady Gertrude. The latter's old-fas.h.i.+oned views clashed violently with her own modern ones, and there seemed to be no mutual ground upon which they could meet. Like her son, Lady Gertrude clung blindly to the narrow outlook of a bygone period, and her ideas of matrimony were based strictly upon the English Marriage Service.

She had not realised that the Great War had created a different world from the one she had always known, and that women had earned their freedom as individuals by sharing the burden of the war side by side with men. Nor had Roger infused any fresh ideas into her mind on his return from serving in the Army. He had volunteered immediately war broke out, his sense of duty and loyalty to his country being as st.u.r.dy as his affection for every foot of her good brown earth he had inherited. But he was not an impressionable man, and when peace finally permitted him to return to his ancestral acres, he settled down again quite happily into the old routine at Trenby Hall.

So it was hardly surprising that Lady Gertrude had remained unchanged, expecting and requiring that the world should still run smoothly on--without even a side-slip!--in the same familiar groove as that to which she had always been accustomed. This being so, it was quite clear to her that Nan would require a considerable amount of tutelage before she was fit to be Roger's wife. And she was equally prepared to give it.

In some inexplicable manner her att.i.tude of mind conveyed itself to Nan, and the latter was rebelliously conscious of the older woman's efforts to dominate her. It came as an inexpressible relief when at last their tete-a-tete was interrupted.

Through the closed door Nan could hear Roger's voice. He was evidently engaged in cheerful conversation with someone in the hall outside--a woman, from the light trill of laughter which came in response to some remark of his--and a moment later the door opened and Nan could see his head and shoulders towering above those of the woman who preceded him into the room.

"Isobel, my dear!"

For the first time since the beginning of their interview Nan heard Lady Gertrude's voice soften to a more human note. Turning to Nan she continued, still in the same affectionate tone of voice:

"This is my niece, Isobel Carson--though she is really more like a daughter to me."

"So it looks as though we shall be sisters!" put in the newcomer lightly. "Really"--with a quick, bird-like glance, that included everyone in the room--"our relations.h.i.+ps will get rather mixed up, won't they?"

She held out a rather claw-like little hand for Nan to shake, and the unexpectedly tense and energetic grip of it was somewhat surprising.

She was a small, dark creature with bright, restless brown eyes set in a somewhat sallow face--its sallowness the result of several husband-hunting years spent in India, where her father had held a post in the Indian Civil Service.