Secret Honeymoon (7 page)

As Cathy threaded her way back to her table, she saw Maggie and Mark dancing. Maggie’s color was high and her eyes were bright and Mark was smiling down at her with warm affection. Cathy knew how much this evening meant to Maggie and not for anything in the world would she have done anything to spoil it.

She made her way back to the table and sank gratefully into her chair; grateful for its support because her knees were shaking. Grateful for the fact that Mark and Maggie were dancing, and that she had a badly needed moment to collect herself before they came back.

She saw, when her eyes had cleared a little and she could be aware of what was going on about her, that Bill was dancing with Elaine. Elaine had tucked her head a little against his shoulder, and they were not talking. Bill’s eyes were searching for Cathy, and as he found her, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he relinquished Elaine to her new; partner and came straight to Cathy.

“What’s up?” he asked swiftly.

Cathy lifted miserable eyes to his.

“I’m afraid I’ve botched things for you badly, Bill,” she told him huskily. “Your aunt and I have just had a polite brawl—not too polite, either.”

“Oh?” said Bill, quietly, and waited.

“She didn’t like my dancing with you, but she liked even less my straying into the moonlight with you, and she told me off in no uncertain terms,” said Cathy, holding herself quiet with an effort. “She warned me off you and assured me that
your engagement to Elaine would be announced at tea Sunday.”

“She did, did she?” Bill’s jaw was set and hard. “It looks as though Aunt Edith and I had better have a showdown—and soon.”

Cathy looked at him piteously.

“Honestly, Bill, I didn’t want to quarrel with her. I tried not to—but she dislikes me so violently—” Her voice broke.

“Aunt Edith is a very possessive lady who likes her own way. Pity she can’t always have it,” said Bill acidly. “I’m about fed to the teeth with giving in to her—especially when she starts trying to push you around.”

Cathy smiled at him tremulously, her eyes misty.

“Look, angel sweet,” said Bill and covered her hand with his in a little caressing movement, “stop looking all big-eyed and teary. Leave this to me. Trust me, darling, and try to believe I honestly know what I’m doing, will you? It’ll all come right, Cathy—I swear it.”

Somehow, Cathy had hoped desperately that he was going to say, Come on, darling, we’ll tell Aunt Edith now that we are married and that she can take the Kendall estate and jump into the lake with it. There’s no amount of money in the world big enough to justify our going on like this … She tried not to be bitterly disappointed that he still was not ready to face his aunt with the fact of their marriage. She tried with all her strength to accept his assurance that everything was going to be all right, but when the waltz ended and Mark and Maggie came back to their table, and Bill rose, he still had said nothing about facing Aunt Edith, He was still planning deviously and secretly.

Bill departed, Mark seated Maggie and took his own chair.

“That was fun!” Maggie said happily. “You’re a wonderful dancer, Mark.”

“Why don’t you two go ahead and dance?” suggested Maggie as the orchestra struck up again. “I’ll catch my breath and relax. I haven’t danced in years—but I loved it! The man’s
good
, Cathy!”

As they danced she found her eyes sliding to the table where Edith Kendall was once more enthroned in all the proud majesty that was the breath of life to her. She was smoking, with ostentatious daintiness, a long thin cigarette in a carved ivory holder. Those at her table were hanging on
her words with polite attention. As the mazes of the dance brought Cathy and Mark near the table, Mrs. Kendall looked up and gave Cathy a look of such cold malignancy that Cathy set her teeth hard in her lower lip and turned her head away.

Mark, without seeming to do so, had caught the swift exchange of glances. His good-looking mouth thinned a little, and his arm tightened about Cathy protectingly.

“Stick your pretty chin out, Darling,” he said, his lips against her ear. “Don’t let her get you down. Remember who you are: Lieutenant Catherine Layne, of the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. Remember that she is ‘nothing but a nothing’—a fat, overbearing, domineering old dame whose come-uppance is long overdue, but likely to smack her down any minute!”

Cathy gave a little shaky laugh and said half under her breath, “Mark, I love you for that!”

For an instant Mark almost missed a step. The next moment they were moving smoothly once more, and he was saying lightly—though there was nothing light about the look in his eyes—“Thanks, pal, but couldn’t you just make it ‘I love you—period’?”

Cathy caught her breath and her eyes closed for a moment before she said softly, “I wish I could, Mark—I wish I could.”

Mark nodded, his face sober.

“Oh, well, I didn’t really think you could. I’ve been watching you when Kendall was around,” he said dryly.

She didn’t dare to speak because her voice was not to be trusted. And Mark said after a moment, “Don’t let it get you down. After all, I’ll get over it.”

Warmly, eagerly she said, “Of course you will, Mark—and you’ll find another girl.”

“You dare offer to be a sister to me, and so help me Hannah, I’ll turn you across my knee right here in public and wallop the living daylights out of you,” said Mark so sternly that for a moment she stared at him and missed a step herself. “I mean it,” Mark went on. “I’ll
not
have you as a sister. I’ll try to be friends with you—but I’m making no promises.”

Mark had gone on a fishing trip with some of the men of the Rotary Club who had welcomed him officially to Cypressville; Maggie was visiting a sick neighbor, and Cathy was at a loose end a day or two later, when she decided to go into town and see a movie. She was too restless to read; it was too hot for her usual panacea, a long walk in the country, and so the movie won.

The Betsy-Bug behaved beautifully, and Cathy parked in the theater’s lot. The movie was fairly amusing and when she came out a few hours later, she felt rested and relaxed. But she grew tense almost before she reached the sidewalk, for she came face to face with Elaine, who greeted her with the warm eagerness of a long-lost friend.

“I’m so bored I could die,” she announced the moment she had greeted Cathy. “Aunt Edith is entertaining her bridge club—and a duller, grimmer lot you wouldn’t find in a day’s travels. I flatly refused to stay and be bored, though Aunt Edith was a little peeved. But then, everybody lets Aunt Edith ride roughshod over them; it’s time somebody was reminding her that ‘yes ma’am’ isn’t the only word in the English language.”

Cathy murmured something and tried to get away. But Elaine slid her hand coaxingly through Cathy’s unresponsive arm.

“Oh, don’t run away. Let’s go get a drink or something. What can one do in this foul little village to kill a bit of time?”

Cathy hesitated. She didn’t like Elaine, and yet she told herself repentantly that she didn’t even know her, so how could she be so sure? She was jealous, of course, but that gave her no excuse for snubbing the girl.

“We could have tea, I suppose. There’s a little shop where Maggie and I go occasionally—it’s not bad,” she yielded and Elaine assented eagerly.

The place was determinedly quaint. Cypressville had not taken wholeheartedly to the idea of afternoon tea, so only two or three tables were occupied.

The waitress, in her “quaint” flowered print dress and yellow apron took their order and departed.

Elaine took out a handsome blue and gold enamel cigarette case, complete with lighter, and extended it to Cathy, holding a light for her before she lit her own cigarette. She studied Cathy curiously for a moment before she spoke.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” she said frankly.

Cathy’s fingers tightened on the cigarette and she looked down to shield whatever revealing light there may have been in her eyes.

“I can imagine,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid I don’t stand very high in Mrs. Kendall’s affections.”

“Oh, Bill’s talked about you, too,” confided Elaine. “Bill thinks you’re the gal that hung the stars and polished the moon and sees to it that the sun comes up on schedule every morning.”

Color flowed into Cathy’s face and her eyes were starry.

“Too bad,” Elaine went on coolly, before Cathy could manage her voice for an answer, “that Aunt Edith holds the purse strings so tight and that she’s so hell-bent on choosing Bill’s wife for him.”

The waitress came with their order. Elaine fussed over hers and the waitress took it back and changed it. But eventually it was satisfactory, and the waitress departed.

Elaine spoke after a moment. “Your Major’s quite a guy, Cathy. I like him.”

“I’m glad—only he’s not my Major,” answered Cathy, striving for a light tone.

Elaine looked up at her sharply, her blue eyes speculative.

“Is it true he’s disgustingly rich?” she demanded.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” answered Cathy curtly.

“He’s a pal of yours and you don’t know whether he’s a millionaire or a pauper?” exclaimed Elaine, unbelieving.

“All I knew about him was that he was a darned good pilot, and that we were both working for the same boss!” said Cathy, and there was color in her cheeks.

Elaine nodded thoughtfully. “Look here, if you’re not in love with the Major, and have no matrimonial aspirations in his direction, do you mind if I make a few passes at him? I
believe I could do myself some good with him! I think he liked me at the dance.”

Cathy blinked, so astounded that for a moment she could not catch her breath or manage speech.

Elaine grinned impishly.

“You see, I can always tell when a man could be persuaded to like me quite a lot. I think the Major could, and—well, it would be fun to see what might happen,” she drawled.

Suddenly Cathy was swept by a quite illogical anger.

“Mark is a very fine man, with a wonderful future, and a lot of ambition,” she said slowly and distinctly. “I won’t have you trying to make a fool of him.”

Elaine’s eyebrows went up delicately.

“Then you
do
think I could,” she suggested gently.

Cathy’s regard took her in: the shoulder-length hair that was silken pale gold, curling away from her vivid, oval face; the great darkly blue eyes with their long, gold-tipped lashes; the exquisitely curved body in its powder blue sharkskin dress that set off a pale, honey-gold tan so deft and so exquisitely balanced one knew instantly it came from a sun lamp.

“I think you could,” said Cathy briefly, and added with a little flash of her eyes, “Only I intend to stop you, if I possibly can.”

Elaine pushed her tea cup away from her and folded her arms on the edge of the table and studied Cathy indolently.

“You don’t look the dog-in-the-manger type, Cathy,” she drawled. “I would have thought that one man would be quite enough for you—especially if the man was Bill.”

“I’m not in love with Mark.” Cathy stated her position flatly. “But I admire and respect and like him enormously. And I don’t propose to sit idly by and watch you sniping for him—unless you’re in love with him, of course.”

Elaine pursed her lovely mouth and then smiled.

“To tell the truth, I believe your Major is a realist,” she said.

“I keep telling you he isn’t
my
Major—”

“But you keep behaving as if he were!”

“And I don’t know what you mean by calling him a ‘realist,’ “ Cathy finished.

Elaine shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t think he goes in for lovey-dovey stuff, any more than I do,” she explained. “I believe that he would look
on marriage as something that might be fun, and all that, but not necessarily a life-and-death matter. He’s out for a good time instead.”

Anger boiled over in Cathy. “If that’s the attitude you have toward Mark, then I’d appreciate it a lot if you’d leave him alone.”

Elaine continued looking at her, her eyes cool, narrowed a little; and she nodded, scrubbed out the tip of her cigarette and said coolly, “So you
are
in love with him!”

“I’m not. Don’t be silly.”

“Of course you are,” said Elaine. “And I wonder where that leaves Bill? He’s pretty crazy about you, believe it or not.”

Cathy drew a long hard breath and clenched her hands tightly in her lap, fighting to steady her voice, before she risked speech.

“Look, Elaine,” she said at last in a voice deceptively quiet and almost steady. “Bill and I have been in love with each other since we were little more than children. I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been in love with him. Love is something that grows and deepens and can’t be wiped out by just a flash. That’s the way I feel about Bill.”

Elaine nodded, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“But you are terribly concerned for the Major’s welfare,” she pointed out dryly.

“Naturally,” answered Cathy, her head high. “Because he’s a fine person and because I think he deserves a better break than you’re offering him.”

She broke off and her color deepened at the derisive look that was dawning in Elaine’s eyes.

“Oh, what’s the use of trying to argue with you?” Cathy flashed, and went swiftly out of the tea shop and along to where the Betsy-Bug was parked.

Cathy’s mind raged; what business of yours is it if she starts making passes at Mark? Mark was quite competent to look after his own affairs of the heart; he would never have attained his present age, unmarried, if he hadn’t been. So what was there to get all steamed up about, she demanded crossly of herself as her foot trod on the accelerator and the Betsy-Bug roared an indignant protest.

However, as for Elaine’s calm insistence that she, Cathy, was in love with Mark—why, that was just plain idiotic. Because
Cathy was in love with Bill—moreover, she was
married
to Bill! She drew a sharp breath at that; even though only she and Bill knew it, the fact still remained. She just couldn’t possibly be in love with Mark, she insisted, and was dimly frightened at her own angry insistence. The necessity of insisting so furiously shook her badly and her thoughts were jumbled when she turned the nose of the Betsy-Bug into the drive beside the neat little cottage.