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Authors: Hilda Pressley

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1972

Harbinger of Spring (28 page)

BOOK: Harbinger of Spring
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We-
ll
—if you

re sure—


Quite
sure.

Sara
saw her off, then went back to her sketchbook. Only hunger drove her into the kitchen later to prepare a belated and hasty lunch. She had barely cleared away when Hugh called.


You
look better,

he said at once.

That

s good.
These your
drawings?


Yes.
Mrs.
Worthing sent them by post, after all.

Sara unfastened
the tape which held the folder together.

They

re
—not much good, I

m afraid. I

m sure I can do
better.


One can always do better, Sara,

he said quietly.

She
handed
them to him one by one, making small
explanations
as to their purpose or making small
self-
criticisms
.
He spoke very little as he looked first at one
and
then the other, sometimes giving one a second scrutiny. Sara was certain he was keeping silent out of politeness, searching his mind for a way of letting her down lightly. She wished he would say something, and at last could stand the suspense no longer.


Well? What do you think?

There was another maddening pause, then he said slowly
:

Do you mind if I let a friend of mine see some of these?


Why—no, if—if you think anyone else would be interested.


This friend teaches at the Norwich School of Art.


And you think—


I think she

d be very interested. You—were saying something about getting a job in Norwich, weren

t you? If my friend thought you had the right qualifications

and I don

t necessarily mean academic qualifications

she could perhaps recommend you for a teaching post. Would you consider anything like that?


Well—yes, but I—I haven

t had any experience in teaching.


I gather they

re very short of staff. I feel sure you could put over the basic principles of dress designing to beginners. Anyway, my friend would be able to try you out.


That would be wonderful, of course, but I—I

d only want a temporary post. When the thirteen weeks

residence required by Aunt Esther

s will are over, I shall be going back to London.


To start another

trendy boutique

with Des or someone like him?

he asked sharply.

The sudden sharpness of his tone brought tears to her eyes. Her lips trembled.


I—I

m not sure yet. I—just want to get away from here.

Hugh took a deep breath, as one exasperated.

It

s no business of mine, of course, but I think you could do better than that. However, we

ve had all that out before, so I won

t start another argument. I just think it

s a pity to waste your obvious talent.

She swallowed hard, hoping he hadn

t noticed her momentary distress.


You think that? That I have some talent? You didn

t really give me your opinion.


Didn

t I
?
I thought I

d made that clear by suggesting to show them to an expert. Dress designing isn

t my line, of course, but I would say you have a real flair.


Do you really think so?

she asked eagerly.

He nodded his affirmative.

But you think you

d do better in London than in Norwich? Or do you prefer the bright lights and the noise of London to the sound of birds and the country life? Or maybe there

s some other reason?

he asked in a hard voice.

She began to collect together her drawings.

Yes, there—there is another reason,

she murmured.

I can

t stay here permanently. I can

t. I must—see my solicitor as soon as possible about finding the right lessee
for the Millhouse.

Hugh strode over to the window and looked out, his hands thrust into his pockets.


So your mind is quite made up?


Yes. It

s—it

s not that I dislike the country, but I have to go. So unless your friend can offer me a temporary post—

He swung around.

I daresay it would be that in any case. I gather they have a number of staff off sick. It would be a try-out both for you and for them. However—

He paused and crossed the room again.

I

wonder if you

d consider leasing Fenchurch Millhouse to me?

Her eyes widened.

To you? Why, of course—why on earth didn

t I think of that before? But would you only want it for limited periods?

He shook his head.

Rosamond and I would come and live here, if you

d agree to a long lease. I was thinking of moving to East Anglia anyway, and as you know, Rosa took a very great liking to the place. There

d

always be a room for either you or your father, of course.

But Sara shook her head swiftly.

Father might be glad to, but I—I don

t think I

d ever come back.

To be in the same house as Hugh with Rosamond as his wife? It would be impossible.


Just as you like,

Hugh said curtly.

I must be off now. May I select a few of your designs to show my friend?

She nodded miserably.

When will you see her?


This evening, as it happens. So if it

s convenient, I

ll look in on you tomorrow and return these. After that I—shall be busy on my book.

He took his departure, and Sara had never felt so unhappy in her entire life. If she had needed confirmation of his love for Rosamond she had it now. Added to this,
she knew he was disappointed in herself, if only as a person. He thought she still yearned for the bright lights of London, that she cared nothing for the country, that she still wanted to design and sell gimmicky, cheap and tawdry clothes, exploiting the needs of teenagers rather than giving them something worthwhile.

During the day she telephoned her solicitor and told him of her father

s offer of a loan to cover her liabilities, also of Hugh

s wish to lease Fenchurch Millhouse.


For how long would he want the lease?

he enquired.


For as long as he wishes. A ninety-nine-year lease
?


As you wish. But that doesn

t allow for any change of
min
d for you. Wouldn

t it be better to let it on a five or ten-year?


I shan

t change my mind,

she answered dully.

But I

ll ask
Mr.
Cornish what he would like.

She did not go out shopping, as she had told Martha she would. Her heart was not in it. She mooned about the garden during the afternoon, then did some more sketching in the evening. Before she realized what she was doing she found she had not only designed a wedding dress, but an entire bride

s outfit. Travelling clothes, suits and dresses to wear on the honeymoon, and finally several very feminine and glamorous sets of lingerie. What a fool she was. What a fool!

By the time Hugh called to return her folder, Sara was all tensed up. She hoped that after today he would not call at the house so often, if at all. Being alone in his company was becoming more and more of a strain.


My friend was quite impressed with your work,

he told her.

She

d like to see you. Will you give her a ring in the morning and fix up an appointment? Here

s the number.

He gave her a slip of paper, then his glance fell on her sketchbook.

You

ve been sket
chin
g more new designs?


Well—yes.


May I see
?

She wanted to snatch up the book and hide it behind her back like a child protecting a precious toy. She reached out her hand and picked it up, but Hugh held out his hand, and like a person hypnotized she handed it to him.

He flicked it open and noticed the loose leaf on which was her design of the match-mate co-ordinate.


No, Hugh—

But it was too late. He had recognized it at once.

Surely the dress in this set was the one you were wearing yourself that night? The one I—


Yes
!

she told him in an impassioned voice.

The one you liked, the one you said showed taste and discrimination, the one you said was utterly cha
rmin
g—like a summer

s day.

His eyes widened and he gave her a long, keen look.

Why didn

t you tell me you

d designed it yourself
?’


I tried to. But you wouldn

t listen. You had quite made up your mind that nothing I did was any good,

she flung back at him. She was appalled at herself, yet felt unable to control her ragged emotions any longer.


I had done nothing of the kind,

he answered sharply.

It was an impression you yourself were giving me. Your use of that ridiculous and over-worked word
boutique
for one thing. It required very little imagination to visualize the kind of clothes you were selling. And designing—judging by most of your drawings. But these are different,

he said, turning over the pages of her sketchbook.

These are clothes any woman would be proud to wear because she would look good in them. If you can create clothes like these, why do you want to go back to London and—

He stopped short and stared at the page on which she had drawn her idea for a bridal gown.


Have you, by any chance, designed this for yourself?

he demanded in a hard voice.

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