Red as a Rose Read online

  Elinor stared at her quickly. Was Valerie being

  sarcastic? Surely anyone could see the truth? She

  was suddenly relieved. Valerie really meant it. Then

  no one, least of all Kit, could have guessed her secret.

  "Don't look like that—so smug . . ." Valerie

  said crossly. "Just like a cat with a plate of cream.

  We all see what you are going to do . . . you're going to marry Hugh, aren't you . . . ? Don't deny it . .. I can see it on your face, Elinor .. ." Her voice rose angrily. Then she slid into the bed still deeper, pulling the sheet up over her head. "Well, if you're going to marry Hugh, I shall marry Kit. He's quite nice and very wealthy—not many girls can manage to grab a man like that . . ."

  Elinor pulled back the sheet quickly and looked down at her sister, startled to see tears in Valerie's eyes. "Val—Kit is going to marry Alison . . ."

  "That'll be the day . . ." Val began angrily.

  "No—I mean it. His mother told me so . . Elinor went on. She sat on the edge of her bed, her face anxious. "Val dear. Don't fall in love with Kit . . ."

  "Who said anything about love?" Valerie said. "I'm going to marry him."

  "Val .. . Alison spoke to me tonight. She is afraid you'll fall in love with him and get hurt. She told me definitely that they are going to be married," Elinor said earnestly:

  There was a strange look on Valerie's face. "They don't behave like a .. . well, I'm sure they're not in love . . ." she said, her voice hesitant.

  "They've known one another all their lives—their sheep stations are next door to one another . . ." Elinor went on.

  Valerie sat up, hugging her knees, resting her chin on them, her eyes very green. "You mean, it's a sort of marriage of convenience?"

  "I don't know," Elinor said wearily. "I only know that Kit's mother doesn't like Alison but she seems to accept the fact that Kit will marry whom he · likes, and if he has chosen Alison .. . Apparently Alison has all the right qualities for a wealthy pastoralist's wife and . . ."

  "Their sheep stations will be combined and both will benefit . . ." Valerie finished bitterly. "What hope have girls like us to grab rich husbands, Elinor, when there are women like Alison who can buy a man?"

  Elinor's cheeks burned. "Kit would never be bought . . ."

  Valerie laughed, a short hard bitter sound. "I wonder. He wouldn't put it like that—probably call it expansion or some such word, but it all boils down to the same thing. Rich marries rich—if you have money, you get more."

  "Val . . . in any case, you wouldn't marry Kit if you didn't love him, would you?" Elinor asked worriedly. She looked at her sister. Why had Val that unhappy bitter look on her face, why was her mouth so sad? It wasn't like Val .. .

  "Wouldn't I?" Valerie asked and put out a hand to switch off the light. "I'm tired . . ."

  Elinor lay in bed, wide awake. The suppressed roar of the air conditioning filled the cabin. The ship was still rolling very slightly and it was a strange sensation. Was poor Val already head over heels in love with Kit? It would not be surprising. How could any girl resist him? Elinor closed her eyes tightly—seeing in her mind that tall, broad-shoulder-

  ed, powerfully-built man with the stern mouth and the suddenly kind eyes. Kit was everything a girl dreamed about. Strong, handsome, strange, tender, exciting . . . and yet so comforting. It would be wonderful to be loved by a man like that—someone on whom you could lean, someone you could trust implicitly, someone who would understand. What a wonderful life you could have . . . Mrs. Anderson had told her enough about the homestead for her to be able to imagine it . . . the long white building with the verandah that ran round three sides of it, the lofty cool rooms, the beautiful gardens. Funny to imagine Kit in a garden—his powerful brown hands tenderly handling seedlings, pruning roses. It was roses that were his favourite flowers, Mrs. Anderson had said. Imagine being married to Kit—having, say, four children. They would be able to afford ponies for the children., What fun it would be. Kit was talking of having a swimming-pool built, his mother had said. He entertained a lot—took a prominent part in local politics.

  Elinor let out a long sigh and buried the dream. Kit needed the right kind of wife; a girl who knew the local customs, was friends with everyone. No wonder he had chosen Alison.

  In the morning, Elinor was late for breakfast on purpose. She wanted to work out for herself how she was to treat Hugh. she could not bear to encourage him—though she was sure both Kit and Valerie were quite wrong. Hugh locked upon her as a friend and nothing else. Valerie was still asleep when Elinor left the cabin, her gorgeous red hair a cloud of colour

  on the white pillow, her relaxed face very young.

  Hurrying down to the dining salon, Elinor found herself praying that Valerie would not get hurt. Unrequited love was such pain. And no matter how hard you tried to be sensible, how you fought to overcome it, it seemed almost impossible to cure yourself of loving the wrong man.

  Hugh had finished so she had the table to herself. It seemed funny to be sitting alone at the table which was usually so alive with talk and laughter. There was a dark pretty girl alone at the next table and somehow they drifted into conversation.

  "My husband and I take it in turns to eat . . ." she told Elinor cheerfully. "We've two small brats and it's quite impossible to leave them."

  "It must be very difficult," Elinor sympathised. "Spoil a lot of your fun . . ."

  The girl—she must have been about Elinor's age —laughed.

  "Oh, well, if you will have children you have to expect your life to be different. It's just that—sometimes . . ." A cloud came over her pretty face. "Sometimes it spoils things . . ."

  They parted at the door, the girl to go to her cabin presumably, and Elinor to take the lift up to the boat deck. She found a quiet corner in a sort of V-shaped alcove, sheltered on one side by a canvas sheet and under the shadow of one of the huge striped fawn and black funnels. She clutched the book that was to be her camouflage if anyone came looking for her—but she hoped no one would. She had played the last of the heats for the sports and

  was not in the finals, but Hugh had said she had done very well. Alison was in the finals and so was Valerie, and Elinor was hoping that everyone that morning would be far too busy to miss her.

  It was all so very, very beautiful. Perhaps it was too much to ask for happiness, too. Yet she was happy, in a way—apart from this hopeless emotional involvement with Kit. She did not think she was really the kind of girl a man like Kit loved. She could well imagine him admiring Alison's cool beauty, appreciating her poise, her elegant charm—or even falling for Valerie's young vivacity, her naturalness, her gaiety. But as to falling for a pathetic-looking .. . afraid-of-men, dignified girl of twenty . . . Valerie's casual words still stung. It was funny how many things Valerie said hurt—and yet Valerie would be shocked if she knew it.

  She heard voices and ducked down behind her book. How stupid could she be! She had forgotten that they would be coming to play deck croquet just in front of her. She looked round the book and saw with relief that none of their party was there and she quickly got up and slipped 'down the stairs and joined the crowded deck chairs round the swimming pool. She was lucky enough to find a chair and she put it in the middle of a crowd of people, hoping that if she was looked for, they would not find her.

  It was very hot here for it was sheltered. Girls lay around in swimsuits—men were sprawled lazily, their brown bodies glistening from swimming. Two people had brightly striped sunshades attached to their chairs. It was a gay scene and yet noisy with the

  children screaming with excitement or squabbling with one another.

  A small two-year-old trotted in front of Elinor, wearing a minute white bikini—she tripped and fell flat, letting out a howl of anguish. As Elinor picked her up, she recognised a voice.

  "Oh, Sally, girl will you never learn?"

  Elinor looked round and found herself gazing at the pretty girl she had talked
to at breakfast. "This one of yours?" Elinor asked.

  The girl laughed. "The eldest .. . and most trouble. She won't keep still . . ."

  Elinor took her chair and sat next to the girl, whose name was Petula Keet. She met the husband, a pleasant, very young man with a harassed look and gleaming black hair. It was rather nice, Elinor thought, to sit and talk to them and she would be safe if Hugh came to look for her.

  Petula laughed in answer to a question as to where they were going.

  "Australia . . . to discover a grand new life . . ." she said, a note of bitterness in her voice.

  Sam Keet spoke quickly. "Petula is feeling a bit glum—we lived near her family and she's missing them."

  The pretty girl gave him a quick look. "I'll be all right once we get there, Sam. It's just that we had such a lovely life and . . ."

  "I know—but we'll get that in Australia," Sam said slowly. "There's sure to be a lot of dancing there . . ."

  They told Elinor that, before the babies arrived, they had been professional ballroom dancers. "I had the loveliest dresses. . . ." Petula said, her eyes shining. "We could afford them, then . . ." The baby in the pram beside her began to cry and Petula with a quick murmur of apology to Elinor lifted the baby and hurried away with her.

  "Time for feeding . . ." Sam explained with a friendly grin. He had the small Sally standing between his knees, playing with the thin bracelet round his wrist. "I'm afraid this is rather tough for Petula . . ." he went on. "She's only just twenty and when we first decided to come out here, we were both thrilled with the thought of the voyage. The trouble is we have to stay with the kids at night or else we take it in turns to go up, but that's not much fun. I think Petula misses the dancing, too. I know I do .. ." he said wistfully.

  Elinor had a wonderful idea. Impulsively she put her hand on his arm. "Sam . . . look. There'll be a dance tomorrow night. You and Petula go and I'll baby-sit for you."

  He stared at her, his face excited and then it sobered. "I couldn't let you. You want to have fun, too."

  "No . . . no, I don't," Elinor assured him quickly. "I . . . I .. ." She could feel her cheeks burning. "Look, I'd be glad of the chance to avoid some . . . someone . . ." She blushed still more as he looked at her with an understanding smile.

  "A lover's tiff . . . ?" he teased.

  "In a way," she admitted.

  "Well . . . I . . . I don't know what to say . . ." Sam told her. "It's most frightfully good of you. The kids won't wake up—they rarely do . . . we won't be late."

  "Be as late as you like," Elinor told him cheerfully. "Enjoy yourselves . . ."

  She looked up, feeling a strange sensation and saw that Kit was standing outside the gymnasium, gazing at her, frowning a little. Immediately she turned to Sam and began to talk to him eagerly—sure she was talking a lot of nonsense because of the bewildered look on his face, but determined to show Kit that she would talk to whom she liked . . .

  Kit had gone before Petula and the now sleepy baby returned. Petula's delight and gratitude when she heard Elinor's offer made Elinor feel a little ashamed, for it would be no hardship to skip the dance. Somehow she must avoid Hugh without mak-ing it too conspicuous. As soon as she could, she left the couple and found her way to the deck where she knew Mrs. Anderson always sat in the sunshine in her chair.

  Mrs. Anderson laid down her book and smiled warmly. "Nice to see you, child. It is good of you to spare me so much time . . ." she said.

  Elinor blushed. "I like talking to you," she said, again a little ashamed because people would read good intentions into her selfish actions. "I love to hear about your home and what it's like in Australia."

  "Do you think you are going to like it, living there?" Mrs. Anderson asked, her faded blue eyes interested.

  "I think . . . so," Elinor said slowly. "At first I didn't want to come at all but now . . . I'm beginning to see I shouldn't have let myself be prejudiced."

  "That's a long word for a very young woman . . ." a drawling, amused voice interrupted.

  "Oh . . ." Elinor cried, startled, turning to stare up at the tall man who had come to join them so quietly. "I didn't hear you."

  "Should I blow a whistle or sound a horn to announce my arrival?" Kit asked slowly, fetching himself a chair and joining them. "You jumped like a startled rabbit."

  "Well . . . well, I wasn't thinking about you and . . ." Elinor began.

  Kit's thick fair eyebrows were lifted quizzically. "Indeed? I am hurt. What have you been up to this morning? We couldn't find you anywhere and then . . ."

  "You saw me . . ." Elinor said, meeting his eyes defiantly. "I have other friends, you know," she said stiffly, clenching her hands tightly.

  "Children . . . children !" Mrs. Anderson interrupted, laughing at them. "Are you both trying to pick a quarrel? We were talking about Australia, Kit darling. I was asking Elinor if she thought she would be happy."

  Kit's eyes were hard as he gazed at Elinor. "I doubt if she'll stay there long . . ." he said, and then, as if in answer to Elinor's startled look, added: "She'll probably be going back to South Africa before long . . ."

  She caught her breath. What did he mean? And then she remembered Max—and his belief that she was unofficially engaged to Max. Now was the time to put him right.

  "I'm not . . ." she began and then stopped. It was a little difficult. As good as calling Valerie a liar. He would be sure to ask why Valerie had let him believe it in the first place and then . . . "I'm sure I shall love Australia . . ." she said firmly.

  "That is a typically foolish remark to make," Kit told her coldly, bending to tuck his mother's rug in more firmly round her. "Cool wind this side of the ship." He turned to Elinor, his face cold. "How can you know that you will love a country you have never seen?"

  Elinor could see that Mrs. Anderson was puzzled and a little distressed. Could she, too, sense the tension between them. Elinor wondered. For a moment, she hated Kit. Why was he so quick to judge others, to expect them to conform to the pattern he believed in?

  Mrs. Anderson plunged into the breach, obviously trying to avert a quarrel. "I think Elinor will make some lucky man a very good wife, Kit . . ." She laughed but there was a thread of gravity in her voice as she went on. "Why don't you marry her, Kit? I'd love her for a daughter-in-law."

  There was an appalled silence. Elinor, startled into silence, hardly dared to breathe. She could feel her cheeks flaming as Kit gazed at her, a strange smile on his mouth.

  "That's quite an idea, Mother. What do you say, Lady Kia . . .?" he asked quietly, just as the uniformed nurse suddenly appeared and said that it was nearly time for lunch.

  Left alone for a moment, Elinor gazed up into Kit's amused face. She knew what he was thinking and she hated, him for it. He was thinking she was looking for a wealthy husband.

  "If you were the last man in the world, Kit . . ." she said, her voice trembling with anger and pain, "I would not marry you."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As SOON as she had spoken, she regretted the words. It was a lie, too. She turned and hurried away, only to have Kit follow close behind her, saying in an amused voice:

  "Chance is a fine thing, you know."

  She could not bear it. She turned to go to the lift, forgot the high step, tripped and fell flat on her face. For a moment she lay there, stunned, and then she felt Kit's powerful but gentle hands lifting her up and she gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes.

  "Tut . . . tut . . ." he drawled. "Temper al-ways meets its own reward."

  "Oh, you . . . you . . ." She found herself stuttering. Somehow she wrenched herself free and hurried to the lift and down to the shelter of her cabin.

  Suddenly the great ship was like a prison. There was no way to avoid Kit—and to add to the difficulties, lately he had seemed to be deliberately baiting her, trying to make her angry, amused when he succeeded. If only he would leave her alone.

  Kit was very formal and polite during lunch,. but several times Elinor caught hi
m staring at her, a strange look in his dark eyes. Was he amused? If only . . . if only . . . She must try to forget those useless words and find a plan. She would just be very formal herself and pretend not to notice the way he was watching her. Deliberately she set out to be friendly to Alison, asking about life in Australia,

  Alison's hobbies. Rather to her surprise, Alison was friendly in turn and so it was quite simple when the meal was over and they went up to the lounge for coffee, for Elinor to walk by Alison's side and even sit by her, and the others were soon engrossed in a conversation of their own.

  "Australia is very beautiful," Alison told her, "but it is an entirely different way of life. Whether you will settle down happily or not depends on how well you adjust yourself. Aggie—with whom you will live—is near a city and so you will not have the loneliness many girls hate so much on a station."

  "You don't mind it?" Elinor asked, trying not to crane to listen to what the others were discussing so animatedly.

  Alison laughed. It was a strange laugh, Elinor. thought. It had no amusement in it, no happiness. What was it Kit had said that first day? That Alison was the unhappiest women he knew, that she never enjoyed or praised anything.

  "I don't stay there long enough to get bored or lonely," Alison said. "My ideal way of living is just to go back for short holidays. Kit and I have a stud of racehorses, which is a sideline of course—sheep are our mainstay—but the horses are interesting and often pay good dividends . . ." She smiled thinly. "In Australia, you know, we are keen race-goers. I don't suppose you have ever been to one . . ."

  "No;" Elinor admitted.

  A warm hand touched her shoulder and stayed there. It was Hugh.

  "Then stay away, Elinor . . ." he said in his friendly manner. "It becomes like a drug. You should see Alison during a race . . . it's quite a sight."

  Two flags of colour waved in Alison's cheeks. "What do you mean—a sight?" she asked icily.