The Black Benedicts (17 page)

Later that day Serena came racing to Mallory and told he
r
that she had been invited to have tea in the drawing-room, and that Miss Martingale had actually brought her a fancy dress all the way from London, and she was going to be allowed to see it.

“
Isn
’
t it wonderful!
”
she exclaimed, doing a delighted little skip about the room.
“
It
’
s a copy of a picture by somebody called Romney, and I
’
m to wear a big hat and have my hair dressed in ringlets on the night of the dance. Isn
’
t i
t
absolutely gorgeously thrilling?
”
And she threw her arms around Mallory and hugged her exuberantly until Mallory winced uncontrollably, when the naturally sympathetic heart of the child was touched.

“
I
’
m sorry about Mark Anthony,
”
she exclaimed, stroking the fur of the subdued small animal as it lay in Mallory
’
s lap,
“
but, as Sonia says you ought not to have interfered between it and Ajax, because that simply excited Ajax and otherwise he wouldn
’
t have done Mark Anthony any harm at all. And now poor Ajax is shut up in the stables, and Sonia is very cross about it.
”

“
I
’
m sorry about that,
”
Mallory replied, rather wearily.
“
But although she may be quite right, I
’
m glad I took no chances, and at the moment Mark Anthony is all in one piece.
”
And then as Serena gazed at her with a mixture of interest, doubt and sympathy, she added a trifle more impatiently:
“
And now, run away and have your tea and get your first glimpse of your new dress. And if they wanted you to do so you can stay downstairs until dinner-time, and then Darcy will help you to bed.
”
But when Serena had gone, and she pictured the domestic scene in the drawing-room, massed with its usual flowers, and Sonia presiding behind the tea-equipage, while Serena exclaimed in delight at her fancy dress costume, and the host stood looking on benignly—unless he had not yet completely recovered his temper—one or two more weak tears rolled down her cheeks, said even the responsive purrs of Mark Anthony wore scarcely a comfort to her just then.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

F
or
the next few days the whole house seemed to be in a state of uproar, with all sorts of people coming and going and tradesmen
’
s vans constantly appearing in the drive Serena was in her element and raced excitedly about the house, getting in everyone
’
s way and making it difficult for Mallory to control her because her uncle was apparently indulging her just then, and Miss Martingale had also taken to spoiling her.

Miss Martingale was a prime favourite with Serena at that period of her life, not only because the dress she was to wear on the night of the dance was enchanting, and made the most of the nine-year-old
’
s striking good looks, but because she was constantly being pressed by her to have tea in the drawing-room, and even to walk with her and Raife in the grounds.

Mallory deliberately sank herself into the background in those days, and having helped as much as she could in the early days, when the ballroom was being brought to life after its long sleep and period of forgetfulness, she decided that she would be better out of the way now, and whenever Serena was invited to join the other members of the house-party—for this time quite a swarm of people seemed to have accompanied Sonia to Morven—she made an excuse to remain in her own room, and as the excuses were not challenged, took it that her absence was definitely preferred to her company.

Only Adrian, apart from herself, seemed to hold aloof from all the excitement that was going on in Morven, and when she lay in bed at night Mallory could hear him amusing himself tirelessly at his piano, but in a way which was sometimes inclined to wring her heart. She felt that he, like herself, was aware that he was not really wanted, and possibly he was happier keeping to his own rooms in his own remote wing of the house.

One evening when the rest were having dinner she caught him wandering about the rose garden in the gathering dusk, and
w
hen she looked at him in surprise he explained that he did not really enjoy large house-parties, and that Raife understood his desire to be left alone and did not pester
him
to join them.

“
But you,
”
he said, looking at Mallory, who was wearing a simple cotton dress with a white belt and sandals, and whose small face bore a look of wistfulness which caused him to study her father sharply,
“
you
’
re different from me—you
’
re young and attractive, and you ought to enjoy other people
’
s society. In any case it isn
’
t natural for you to be quite alone when all the others are congregated in one spot, and I can
’
t think how you managed to get away with it. Didn
’
t Serena demand your attendance to-night? Or is she in bed?
”

“
No,
”
Mallory answered,
“
she
’
s dining in the dining-room to-night, as a special treat, but she
’
s coming up stairs as soon as coffee is served, and I
’
m putting her to bed.
”

“
And you?
”
Adrian asked.
“
Weren
’
t invited, too?
”

“
Well, as a matter of fact,
’
Mallory confessed,
“
I was. But,
”
looking him straight in the eyes, in case he should be inclined to disbelieve her and pity her,
“
I
’
m rather like you, Mr. Benedict, and I prefer to be alone.
”

She might have added that as she had only one dress in which to appear in the dining-room, amongst exceptionally smart guests, whose clothes had probably been purchased in Paris, and Sonia Martingale had already seen her in that dress on several occasions, she preferred for the sake of her pride to keep to the sanctuary of her own rooms.

“
Well, in that case,
”
Adrian Benedict answered rather swiftly,
“
since we
’
re alike we ought to spend more of our time together, and I
’
d like you to come up to my room more often than you do. What about coming up for a little while this evening, after you
’
ve put Serena to bed? We both enjoy music, and it
’
s an immense consolation when you feel a little—well—out of things!
”
She wondered whether he was shrewd enough to realize that that was just what she did feel
—
out of things! Then
she
recalled that Raife, his brother, had once expressed the wish that when ever it was possible for her to do so she should at least not begrudge devoting a little of her time to Adrian, and because his eyes seemed to be pleading with her a little she nodded and smiled at him.

“
If you would like me to do so,
”
she
told him,
“
I should find it very pleasant.
”

Instantly his whole face lighted up, and he thanked her with obvious sincerity.

“
Then that
’
s settled!
”
he exclaimed.
“
We
’
ll have a Chopin evening—and perhaps a little of Brahms! You shall tell me what you would like me to play, and I will play it for you.
”

Mallory felt vaguely sorry for him as she , watched him disappear towards the house, and she herself remained out of doors in the rose garden until the light was fading, when she hurried up to the nursery wing to put Serena to bed.

Serena was actually waiting for her, a little bored because the grown-ups had talked over her head during dinner, and she had not had as much limelight as she would have enjoyed. But no sooner was she in bed than she was asleep, and Mallory entered her bedroom and decided to make a few alterations to her appearance. She took down a little lavender-blue dress out of her wardrobe which had seen much service, but was newly back from the cleaners, and with the addition of her mother
’
s pearls and a little extra make-up she realized, as she turned to herself in the mirror, that she was not unattractive—in fact, some people might have thought her remarkably attractive.

As she went along the corridor the softened lights shone down on her palely gleaming hair and her flower-like skin, and it was only when she passed the head of the staircase and looked down into the luxurious well of the hall, that the thought that the one man she could have been happy to spend the evening with was down there being extremely attentive to a successful ballerina affected her with a faint, wistful feeling of sadness. And then she mentally squared her shoulders, and went on towards Adrian
’
s room with another thought giving her a little more confidence—that at least by acting as an audience to the younger Benedict
’
s playing, she could give him a certain amou
n
t of happiness.

He had obviously been listening for the sound of her footfalls, for the instant she reached his door it was flung wide open, and he stood eagerly
waiting for her to enter. His room looked attractive in the amber light of his tall reading lamp which stood beside the piano, and she noticed that he himself was looking almost startlingly handsome, if just a little feminine, in a velvet dinner-jacket, with a crimson silk handkerchief escaping from the end of his sleeve.

He placed her in his most comfortable chair, and then offered her a glass of sherry, which on this visit she accepted, and then instead of making for his piano he sat down beside her on the broad Chesterfield couch and looked at her with dis
c
oncerting admiration in his velvety dark eyes.

“
Do you know,
”
he said rather abruptly, disconcerting her still more,
“
that I
’
m quite sure your coming here to Morven to teach Serena was
something t
hat was especially ordained.
”
His dark eyes were glowing like lamps, she thought, and they had an almost burning way of looking at her, as if to him she was as welcome a sight as an oasis in the desert would be to a man dying of thirst. He set down his glass of sherry on the little table between them, and leant a little towards her.
“
Out of all the houses in England to which you might have gone you had to come here,
”
he said softly—
“
and it was here that I was waiting for someone like you to wake up out of my lethargy and give me a new interest in life!
”

If he noticed her slight recoil—the way she shrank back amongst the cushions of the Chesterfield—he gave no sign of it, and his look dwelt caressingly on the pale gold of her hair, the slender shape of her body beneath the flimsy material of her gown. He spoke more earnestly.

“
You do like Serena, don
’
t you?—in fact, you
’
re
very fond of her, aren
’
t you? And I
’
m Serena
’
s father! The three of us could be happy together—or that
’
s what I
’
ve decided! Mallory...
!
”
He put out an eager, beautifully-formed hand and lightly touched one of hers.
“
Haven
’
t you any idea at all
w
hat I
’
m leading up to? I know I
’
m rather rushing things—or I must appear to be rushing things
—
but I
’
ve thought about you and me so much, and...
”

“
Please, Mr. Benedict!
”
Mallory made a little movement as if she would get to her feet, and the expression in her eyes was amazed and perturbed, but he caught her swiftly by the arm and drew her down again.

“
Mallory, you
’
re so lovely... I want to marry you and take you away from here to the White Cottage where we can live together and be happy, and if you haven
’
t thought about it as much as I have, don
’
t please turn me down until you
’
ve promised to give the matter your consideration at least. If only for Serena
’
s sake
...”