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Authors: Susan Barrie

BOOK: Gates of Dawn
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Are you?

For an instant she thought his expression softened a little, and the faintly whimsical look crossed his face. Then he frowned.

What is this fellow Muller like? And why didn

t he give me an opportunity to meet him? I shall want to have his report on Noel.


I don

t see that he could very well give you an opportunity to meet him when he didn

t even know you were here,

Melanie pointed out reasonably.

And as for his report on Noel, he was going to send it off to you tomorrow morning, with certain recommendations for her continued treatment.


The retention of your services here at the chalet figuring largely in the recommendations?

her employer suggested, flicking the ash from his cigarette into a blue-and-white pottery bowl on the table, and then looking at her almost challengingly.

I don

t suppose you can deny that, can you, Miss Brooks?

To her annoyance she felt herself blushing almost guiltily.

So far as I am concerned,

she said defensively,

I am quite willing to return to England tomorrow if you wish, and allow myself to be replaced by someone else.


But Dr. Muller wouldn

t agree to that, would he?

with deceptive gentleness.

And as a matter of fact I don

t think I would agree to it, either!

He turned to his niece, who was standing almost at his elbow with the white and blue and gold flowers hugged up in her brown arms, and suddenly tweaked an end of her flaxen hair, which had at last been shorn and was hanging in an attractive page-boy bob to her shoulders.


You

re really beginning to look quite glamorous, Noel, my child,

he told her.

I shudder to think of my responsibilities in a few years from now, when the hordes of determined suitors start getting into their stride.

Noel turned a delightful shade of pink, but looked pleased by the compliment. She was also secretly much amused by this open display of hostilities between Melanie and her uncle—perhaps because, as a looker-on, she saw rather more of the game than they two did themselves, and she was pleased to see Melanie standing up for herself.


If you

re a very good girl,

her uncle told her,

I

ll take you out to dinner tonight—and Miss Brooks as well, if she

ll refrain from biting me between courses. Do you
p
romise to hold your fire for one evening at least, Miss
Brooks? You shall have other opportunities to rend me with your criticisms.


I have no desire to criticize you in any way whatsoever,

she assured him, unable to
recover as quickly as he did from the direct attack.

He smiled at her whimsically.


Well, both of you dress yourselves up so that I can feel proud of you and
I’ll
book a table for three—unless you

d like me to invite Dr. Muller as well?

with a satirical thrust at Melanie.

I shall be staying at the hotel for the next few days since there is no room for me here at the chalet, and I

ll collect you two young things about eight o

clock. Is that all right?

They both answered that it was perfectly all right—the younger girl with enthusiasm, the older with marked restraint.

Richard Trenchard rose from the table on which he had been seated and favored them with an impartial smile.


Well, see that you don

t keep me waiting—either of you! I never allow a woman to keep me waiting.


Not even Sylvia Gaythorpe?

Melanie wondered inwardly,
and was sure that there had been many occasions when he had waited with justifiable impatience for Sylvia. And it was probably only a matter of hours before Sylvia herself appeared on the scene!

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BUT as she dressed that night with far more than her usual attention to detail for dinner at the hotel, Melanie was conscious of a feeling like excitement which had suddenly taken possession of her because Richard was to be her host.

That morning she had watched the dawn break over the mountains with a feeling of intense loneliness in her heart because there was no one near enough to her in spirit to share the sheer w
o
nder of those moments. Dr. Muller did not count. He was charming and friendly, and she was grateful to him for cutting short his period of slumber in order to make it possible for her to witness such a display. But it was only the startling splendor of the sunrise which had caused her temporarily to forget that loneliness—and allow Dr. Muller to see how much she had been stirred by it. By the time they had returned home in the afternoon the exhilaration had passed, and a feeling of flatness—of anti-climax—had supervened.

And the sudden discovery that Richard was there waiting for her in the chalet, that for some reason he was almost hostile to her, had had at first almost a demoralizing effect. She had felt both guilty and afraid. And then courage had returned to her and she had faced him boldly. He had succeeded in arousing her anger. And then anger had evaporated in bewilderment, because he had asked her out to dinner.

Would she, she wondered, ever understand Richard? Did any woman understand him? Did Sylvia Gaythorpe understand him?

He bullied, he was rude, he coerced quite shamefully, he sometimes appeared to be utterly self-centred
...
And then all at once he smiled, the typically Richard kind of smile, and her heart turned over
...

Did other women

s hearts turn over like that when Richard smiled at them
?

When he called for her and Noel at eight o

clock that night they were both ready and waiting. He had a car outside—his own familiar long grey one—but before he led them out to it he inspected the appearance of each quite gravely.

Noel was in white—the gauzy white dress she had worn at Christmas, with her childish row of corals round her slender throat. Melanie had made up the pale peach broderie anglaise she had bought recently, and it looked completely charming. There were narrow black velvet ribbons looped like a flower above the wide skirt, and a black velvet ribbon encircled her neck. Her hair looked silken and brown in the lamplight.


Very nice,

Richard murmured approvingly, and he was looking at Melanie as he uttered the words.

Throughout dinner he was at his politest and most charming. He teased Noel occasionally, but towards Melanie his manner was entirely correct. He did not even mention Dr. Muller.

Afterwards they danced, sharing the room with only a very few couples and the orchestra, which nevertheless played away indefatigably ensconced behind a thin screen of palms, Most of the numbers were gay and tuneful Viennese waltzes, and for the first time Melanie found herself circling a polished floor in the arms of the man who paid her salary. He was, she realized immediately a most finished dancer and the fact that she was slightly out of practice meant nothing to him. He guided her steps with the utmost ease, looking down at her as she held herself somewhat stiffly in his arms, and smiling a little above the top of her head.

When she looked up at him his eyes smiled directly at her, but there was also a look of faint speculation in the smile.

Suddenly she found herself on a balcony outside the window, with an enormous, round and very yellow moon rising above the wall of mountains facing them. Noel had been permitted to dance with an acquaintance of her uncle

s who had accosted them during dinner, and for the time being there was nothing to prevent their being alone on the balcony and indulging in a little conversation if they wished. Melanie was not sure that she did wish, for with the lilting notes of the
Merry Widow
reaching her ears from the room behind them, that huge unearthly moon shedding its light over the wide valley in front of her, and a certain intoxicating sweetness about the very smell of the night, she was suddenly not at all sure of herself, or what she might say or do. Not with Richard Trenchard leaning negligently against the balcony rail and surveying her as if she amused him.


I wonder if you know how enchanting you look in that dress?

he said suddenly.

Really enchanting!

She looked up at him. He seemed so very tall, or else she was very short.


Do I?

uncertainly.

I—I made it myself.


Very clever of you,

he told her. He offered her his cigarette-case.

But then you are a very clever young woman, aren

t you? Clever at managing invalids like Noel, and difficult and demanding females like my sister—and even frightening dragons like my Great-Aunt Amelia! I must certainly hand it to you, Miss Brooks. You have something about you—something which is not altogether on the surface!

Melanie was not sure whether he was serious, or whether he was merely amusing himself at her expense. His eyes told her nothing, save that they appeared to wish to study her for some reason of his own.


And now you

ve captivated Dr. Muller!

All at once she was on surer ground, and she became very calm and composed. There was no reason why she should submit to taunts concerning a man who was her friend.


Dr. Muller has been very kind and helpful, that is all,

she said.

He has been most attentive to Noel, and the progress she has made is as much due to his care as the favorable conditions we live under here. And he has relieved me of a little of the responsibility which might otherwise have been rather too much for me, with no one else to consult or receive advice from.

He frowned.


If anything had gone wrong you had only to let me know.


You have never once answered my weekly letters,

she reminded him.

One feels a little cut off out here.


Did you expect me to answer your letters—personally?

he asked.

My secretary wrote to you.


Yes; your secretary wrote to me,

she said quietly. He was silent, studying her. Above the glowing end of his cigarette his face was an enigma.


But that was not enough?

he suggested. And then:

Why,

he demanded,

should I have written to you myself. You obviously expected it. Why?

he repeated.

There was something strange and compelling in his tone, and she faced his look determinedly.


I don

t know,

she answered simply.

But I thought you might—I thought you might have written to Noel.


Noel would not be in the least interested in a letter from me. She would simply toss it aside.

He paused.

I am a busy man. I have little time to spare for useless communications which can be done just as well by people I employ. You have not been neglected, and yet you feel neglected. Did you think I had forgotten you?


I scarcely expected you to remember me as an individual,

she returned, with a certain dryness, for she was after all, merely

one of the people he employed

;

but the circumstances are rather different. Your niece is—or rather was—an invalid, and when you receive Dr. Muller

s report you may realize that she is still far from well.


When I receive Dr. Muller

s report I shall probably realize a good many things,

he answered her enigmatically, and then surprised her considerably by leaning forward suddenly and taking both of her hands. He examined them in the moonlight, very white and well-cared for hands, with slender fingers tipped with nails as delicately pink as the inside of a shell. He swung them idly to and fro.

I

m afraid, Miss Brooks, that I made a mistake in not
wr
iting you something in my best style in my own fair hand, thereby convincing you that you were never for a moment out of my thoughts.

Now his look was definitely
teasing.

But, truth to tell, I had my reasons, and
—”

He paused again,

and suddenly he lifted her hands and rested them lightly against: the dark front of his dinner-jacket, so that they looked like white flowers against a sombre background.


Miss Brooks—Melanie!
...
Do you recall that night in London, at my aunt

s house, when I held your hands in mine and said that they were not to toil too much in my service?

She remembered the night so well that her fingers quivered in his hold, and she hoped he could not hear the violent beating of her heart.


You do
...
?
Well, I

m afr
a
id I have permitted them to toil far too faithfully for me, and as a reward I was quite poisonously rude to you this afternoon. It was probably something I had for lunch,

his eyes continuing to twinkle a little,

and, in any case I ask you to forgive me and to prove your forgiveness, not only for this afternoon but for weeks of criminal neglect in the shape of unwritten letters, by coming out with me in the car tomorrow and showing
me
something of the sights of the neighborhood.


But you know the neighborhood even better than I do,

gently but determinedly removing her fingers and placing them safely behind her back.


I did once, but I

ve forgotten all about it since I was here last.


Then you can explore it again by yourself.


Certainly not. You are my employee, and I order you to come with me. I will not allow you to devote time to Dr. Muller that you are not prepared to devote to me also. Therefore, will you come?


Only if Noel comes also?

He made a slight, impatient movement with his hands.


Must we always take that child everywhere
...
?
Oh, well, if you insist, but I wish you wouldn

t. You don

t inflict her on Dr. Muller, I notice!

She was about to say something indignantly, but he cut her short.

Oh, yes, I realize it was a special occasion, but Dr. Muller was lucky. When
I
decide to get up at an unearthly hour to watch the sunrise—which I don

t imagine will be in the immediate future!—I shall expect you to accompany me without any appendages. And now do you give me your word to be waiting for me tomorrow—morning, shall we say? Somewhere about eleven? We

ll take a picn
i
c lunch

a thing I loathe!—and Noel can sit in the back of the car and eat it while we go exploring!
...”

Of course he was not to be taken seriously—Melanie realized that. But since it was his pleasure to flirt with her lightly while his glamorous Sylvia was so far removed from his attentions that she must be missing them sorely, Melanie was afraid it would be most undiplomatic on her part to repulse him altogether. For one thing he might then decide that she was taking him seriously, and that was the, very last impression she wished to convey. If he could regard her as nothing better than an amusing companion for an idle hour, then it was up to her to keep such a tight hold on her own emotions and feelings that he would never guess the havoc his smiling glances caused deep down in her innermost being, to say nothing of the magnetic touch of his hands when he chose to take hers.

But she was determined there should be no more hand-holding, at least. Provoke her he might with his whimsical looks, set every sensitive nerve in her body quivering with repressed excitement when he introduced into his voice that almost caressing note which was very nearly her undoing, but actual contact with him she could not endure. She was his employee, not his plaything. And, after all, she was only human!

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