Choose the One You'll Marry (15 page)

“Don’t you?”

“Well, it’s nearer the truth than a flat lie,” Ruth conceded soberly. “And so I’ll probably carry it off better. I shall be glad not to have to insist that it was
not
you he saw. It was going to be pretty difficult to shake him on that point, I could see.”

“Good. Then we’ll leave it at that,” Aunt Henrietta said, with an air of closing a chapter satisfactorily.

And glancing at her curiously, Ruth saw that she had recovered all her usual poise and self-possession. Presumably, she was now playing the role of the woman who had successfully buried her past. And in this impersonation, as in every other one she undertook, she was not likely to put a foot wrong.

After that they had a thoroughly enjoyable day together.

They lunched out, at a quiet but excellent restaurant, and then went to see a very good Continental film that was not at all likely to appear in Castlemore. And with all sense of strain between them gone, their pleasure in each other’s company was considerable.

By the time they returned to the apartment for tea, Michael had also come back from his journey into Sussex. And although Aunt Henrietta immediately launched into a lively account of the day she and Ruth had spent together, to his credit, he showed neither surprise nor amusement over the fact that
Angus Everton appeared to have played no part in it.

“And Ruth’s going to a studio party tonight,” Aunt Henrietta explained for her. “With Angus Everton.”

“Oh? I expect that’s the one I’m going to,” Michael said carelessly.

“You?” Ruth and Aunt Henrietta spoke in chorus, and somehow the two voices together gave an impression of something like dismay.

“Yes.” He gave an amused glance from one to the other. “Does anyone mind?”

“No! Of course not.” Again they spoke in unison.

But Ruth knew perfectly well that Aunt Henrietta did mind. She minded every time there was any likelihood of Michael and Angus Everton coming in contact. As for herself—she, too, would have preferred Michael to be employed any other way that evening. She was not especially anxious to improve her delicate relationship with Angus under the penetrating glance of Michael Harling.

However, she contrived to smile and to look as though she thought the arrangement delightful.

The moment she and Aunt Henrietta were left alone together, the older woman said sharply, “Keep them apart if you possibly can, Ruth.”

“Why, yes—of course. But you needn’t really worry. It won’t be at all the sort of party where they can get into a corner and discuss private affairs, even if they felt that way toward each other. Which of course they don’t.”

“I know—I know. But that isn’t usually the way an awkward truth comes out.” Aunt Henrietta spoke profound wisdom from what appeared to be the depths of unfortunate experience. “It’s nearly always the casual remark, spoken without any intentional malice, that gives things away.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruth said again. “They don’t even like each other. It won’t be difficult to keep them apart. And anyway, I expect I shall be able to have a word with Angus in the car, before we arrive at the party. I shall impress on him once more that you just don’t like having your affairs discussed. I might even pretend that you’re rather self
-
conscious about your music-hall days, and prefer not to have them referred to at all.”

Aunt Henrietta gave a faint smile of genuine amusement.

“You’re a dear child, Ruth. And for a basically truthful one, remarkably resourceful,” she added. An observation that left Ruth wondering uncomfortably if she should take this as a compliment or regard it as a matter for shame.

Even Aunt Henrietta’s fears were to a certain extent allayed by the fact that Michael left the apartment sometime before Angus put in an appearance. Indeed, by the time Angus did arrive she was outwardly calm and unruffled, and played the role of hostess so charmingly while drinks were being dispensed, that it was impossible to regard her as someone who had reason to be under a strain.

The fact must have caught Angus’s attention and made an impression on him. For he and Ruth were hardly alone in the car together before he said, “Your bogus but charming Aunt Henrietta really is a cool customer. I suppose she never even mentioned what she overheard you say yesterday evening?”

“Indeed she did.” Ruth felt she was being rather a cool customer herself at this juncture. “And you needn’t call her bogus. She tackled me on the subject as soon as I went in to say good-night to her.”

“You don’t say!” Angus looked intrigued, and in some way impressed. “What was her story?”

“You’re going to find it rather undramatic, I’m afraid.” Ruth smiled tolerantly. “It seems the explanation is little more than a confusion of dates. It’s perfectly true that you did see her, that time you thought—”

“
I
knew it!
I
knew
I
couldn’t be mistaken, unless
I
was slipping badly in my capacity for recalling personalities.”

“She wasn’t entirely willing to admit it at first,” Ruth explained, glad to think that all of this so far was virtually the truth. “She was quite—cagey. I wonder—do you suppose she is really rather self-conscious about those early days? She is an elegant, well-to-do woman now. I suppose she might be oddly ashamed of having once toured third
-
rate music halls?”

“We all have our little snobberies, it’s true,” Angus conceded good-humoredly. “You mean she faked her dates a bit, in order to leave out the not-so-purple patch in her past that she preferred to forget?”

“I think she must have. She assures me now that I was quite wrong in supposing she had gone to Australia so very many years ago. It seems it was not long after you saw her—which completely explains the odd discrepancy in dates, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.” Angus looked more than
half convinced
, but still a little too dangerously intrigued. “What did she do when she got to Australia?”

“I think she had a rather rough time. Then she got a job as companion to an elderly lady, who eventually left her a little bit of money. She speculated successfully and—here she is.”

“Well, it’s an excellent story, anyway.” Angus laughed. “I like your Aunt Henrietta, I must say. She’s nonetheless a charming creature for having a few question marks in her past.”

“I don’t know why you should think there are any question marks left.” Ruth contrived to infuse just the right degree of indignation into her voice. “The explanation sounds perfectly feasible to me.”

“Perfectly feasible,” Angus agreed gaily. And although he laughed as he said it, she had to be satisfied with that. To press the matter further would have been to give it an unwise degree of importance.

Besides, at this moment they arrived at the studios.

Work was going on as usual, though an important outside telecast had left at least one of the larger studios empty, and it was here that the party was being held.

It appeared to be already in full swing when Angus and Ruth arrived and, although she had been assured in advance that it would be “informal,” Ruth was not quite prepared for the crowded, formless, cheerful confusion of the scene.

Everyone seemed to know Angus, and few people waited to be even introduced to her before addressing her in terms of considerable familiarity. But whether it was because they really thought they did know her or whether because they addressed everyone that way, she was not quite sure.

It was ten minutes before they reached their host—a large, cheerful, red-haired man who seemed to be capable of conducting at least three different conversations at the same time.

He slapped Angus on the back in a friendly way, greeted Ruth affably and waved her on in the direction of a very plain but vivacious girl whom he addressed as “Pug,” but in tones of such unmistakable affection that Ruth decided this must be the new
fiancée
.

It was difficult to keep one’s feet, so to speak, in the various conversations that flowed around one. Inevitably most of the talk dealt with events and personalities quite unknown to Ruth, so she contented herself with gingerly sipping her too strong cocktail and occasionally contributing a harmless generality to the sea of conversation.

But it was hard going, and her relief and pleasure were immense when, as the crowds parted for a moment, she saw Michael not very far away from her.

“Oh, Michael—” Angus was arguing with enjoyable ferocity with someone on her left and could undoubtedly be abandoned for the moment to his own devices “—Michael, how nice to see you!”

She stood before him, smiling up at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks pinker than usual, partly because of the heat and partly because of the cocktail.

“Hello—” He looked down at her pleasantly. “Let me get you—oh, I see you have a drink. What
is
that you’re drinking, by the way?”

“It’s a cocktail.” She regarded it a little doubtfully.

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Not really—no,” she confessed. “It’s frightfully strong, and smells a little like the stuff you use to kill flies.”

“It probably does kill flies,” Michael assured her cheerfully. “Give it to me. We’ll leave it on this ledge here, and I’ll get you something you really like.”

“Oh, Michael, thank you,” she said gratefully.

“What would you like?”

“Lemonade or something like that, really. But I suppose one doesn’t ask for anything so naive at a party of this sort.”

“Indeed one does, if one wants it,” Michael told her. “Never be forced into eating or drinking something you don’t enjoy, just for the look of the thing. Originality is so much more interesting than reluctant conformity.”

Ruth laughed, and found that she was feeling happily at ease all at once.

“Very well, then. Anything mild that you can get me, Michael.”

He left her side for a few moments, but returned remarkably quickly, with a glass of some sort of fruit cup, which Ruth tasted experimentally and then began to drink with enjoyment.

“Thank you. It’s delicious.”

“Good. Have a sandwich—” He stopped someone who was passing with a tray of food, and saw to it that Ruth was supplied with something to eat. “Now you can begin to enjoy the party in style.”

“Yes, indeed.” She laughed again, in that half shy, half amused way. But recollecting herself, she added hastily and conscientiously, “Though I was already enjoying it,
o
f course.”

“Of course,” he agreed gravely. And as he added nothing else, she glanced up, to see that he was looking away from her for a moment. Following the direction of his glance, Ruth saw that Charmian had just come in and was standing near the door, surveying the scene with that faintly scornful smile that some people seemed to find so very attractive.

“Oh—would you like to go and join Charmian?”

“Certainly not, thank you.” His glance came back to her immediately. “I’m enjoying myself very much with you.”

“That’s very nice of you.” She smiled slightly. “But I meant—I’ll rejoin Angus if—”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He looked down at her with that almost lazy air of indulgence, which gave her the most extraordinary feeling of being specially looked after.

“No! Of course not. I just thought—oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“Come on—tell me what you thought,” he said coa
x
ingly.

“It’s hardly worth so much discussion,” she declared. “I just supposed that you and Charmian might have arranged to meet here, and that she might feel some sort of proprietorial right—I mean
...”
She faltered over the unfortunate choice of words and groped unsuccessfully for a happier phrase.

“I assure you no one has any proprietorial rights in me,” he said gravely. And Ruth found herself wishing, with a somewhat unworthy sense of satisfaction, that Miss Charmian Deal could have heard him say that.

“Then I shall continue to enjoy your company without a qualm,” she told him lightly. And enjoy his company she did—to such an extent that it was some while before she even thought of Angus or looked around to see what he was doing.

He was standing not far away from her and Michael, and although he was engaged in some sort of conversation, his glance—indeed, his attention—was fixed on her in a discontented, even slightly sulky way.

“I must go,” she said quickly to her companion. “I—I didn’t realize quite how long we’d been monopolizing each other, and I did come with Angus. I think—I think perhaps he wants to introduce me to some of his colleagues.”

“Very well.” Michael nodded good-humoredly and moved away, leaving her to rejoin Angus, who showed no inclination to introduce her to more of his colleagues, but merely to tell her crossly that he was beginning to wonder if she intended to spend the rest of the evening with Michael Harling.

“Don’t be silly,” said Ruth kindly, in the way she sometimes addressed her brother when she thought he was getting above his boots. “I just happen to have more in common with Michael than with most of the other people here. It was natural for us to talk together.”

“Sorry.” Angus gave her a flashing, contrite smile, and putting his arm around her, he drew her close against him for a moment, so that they seemed to be isolated even in the midst of the crowd. “I’ve pretty well had enough of this party, haven’t you? Shall we go somewhere on our own and dance—or talk—or do whatever else you like?”

“If you would prefer that—yes.” Ruth was perfectly willing. “I realize this isn’t meant to be an evening party, is it? More a cocktail party before people go on somewhere else.”