CHAPTER FOUR

Felicity slept fitfully that night, and awoke unrefreshed. Her dreams had been vaguely disturbing, and the uneasy conflict feathering through them remained with her when she awoke to see Anna drawing the curtains.

'Lovely morning, ' said Anna.

Felicity stretched her arms above her head sleepily and blinked.

'Curtis Moreau asked me to dine with him on Thursday evening. ' She smiled, feeling pleasure at the speaking of his name.

Anna placed the tray before her, her face enigmatic. 'And you accepted? '

'Of course. Are you surprised? '

A shrug. 'You would have been a fool not to. He's your kind of man. Like you in a way—he has a will of his own and does exactly what he pleases. '

Felicity bristled. 'Maybe, but he won't do what he likes with me. '

'That's what you think. '

'Anna! ' She pushed herself up more firmly behind the tray and glared. 'What's got into you this morning? You're smiling. Does that mean you approve? '

'I wish I was young again, ' said Anna.

Felicity poured out her tea. 'So beneath that starched front beats a romantic heart! Well, let me tell you something. A man will have to be something special to make me change my way of life. '

'Curtis. Moreau is. '

Felicity sipped her tea, found it too hot and coughed painfully.

'He's only a man, ' she cried. 'Really! Why do people assume that all spinsters are mad to get married? ' irritably. 'I like things as they are. Why does one have to give up one thing for another? '

'Because you can't have your cake and eat it, ' Anna said, and with this piece of wisdom left the room.

Felicity waited for Thursday to come with delicious expectancy. It was a silent and quivering waiting which she hugged to herself jealously, but when Wednesday evening arrived she knew a feeling of fear. Her breath caught suddenly at the thought of meeting him again, and the colour flooded her cheeks. She had been playing tennis that afternoon with one of her old school friends and the dressing on her almost-healed elbow seemed to bring Curt very near. She had been alarmed to discover how much he had dominated her thoughts. He had robbed her of her own identity, and she was afraid. Her parents were dining out that night and she had dined alone, and so her fears had mounted until there was an irresistible urge to leave the house to seek clear thinking in the cool night air.

Curt was the dominant male, a man of implacable demands which would take all from her. Away from the house filled with the memory of him, Felicity tried to think rationally. What exactly did she want from life? A husband and children? But not with David Colston, she told herself, for it was not love she felt for him. Theirs would be a lifeless, mundane marriage with no flames of passion; with Curt life would be very different. The instant leap of her pulses at the thought of him verified that.

But just as David would demand too little, Curt would take too much, he would take all. He would make her his in a way that would make her a mere appendage of himself— her treacherous heart leapt at the thought, in delicious terror. And she would give and go on giving, because she would not be able to resist him. If she accepted the date with him, Felicity knew with an inborn feminine intuition that it was a decision that would affect her whole life.

She walked through the grounds seeing nothing of her surroundings, deaf and blind to everything because of Curt. Why should he do this to me? she asked herself. And the answer came. They were akin to each other. Were she to never see him again, he would always be there in her heart. She would never be free of him again.

Felicity had reached panic stations by the time she returned to the house. It was now or never, she thought, and made blindly for the telephone after looking up Curt's number.

After what seemed an age a deep-voiced individual, raising no question as to his maleness, answered.

He said, 'I'm afraid Mr Moreau is out. Can I give him a message? '

She told him then that she would not be able to keep the dinner date for the following evening, and apologized. Putting down the phone, she had to sit down very suddenly, having gone weak at the knees. It took quite some time to pull herself together, and she began to make plans.

She would be crafty and let Anna think she was going to her date. She was sure to come to help her to dress for the occasion, so that was what she must do. Felicity decided to dress as though she were going, but leave the house in the car half an hour before Curt would be due. Then if Curt, who she was sure had never been stood up by a girl before, suddenly decided to call for an explanation, she would be out.

Thursday was never-ending, and it was a strain for her to behave normally in case Anna grew suspicious when the time came for her to get ready. She chose a blue gown, the one she would have chosen for her dinner date.

It was a caftan decorated with gold embroidery, and the colour, so flattering to her golden hair, deepened the blue of her eyes. Anna, who had taken the golden hair back with a narrow band of matching material, surveyed her, well satisfied. 'The triple link of pearls 'with the matching pearl and diamond earrings, I think, ' she said. 'Then you are ready. '

Felicity, silent, let her have her way. She could not have cared less that her nails were the same delicate pink as her lips and that she was chic and impeccable. As Anna fussed around her, arranging this, adjusting that, she looked at the exquisite gold watch on her wrist.

'I'm sure Mr Moreau doesn't mean you to drive up to London alone, ' Anna said, going round Felicity's slim shoulders with the minute soft clothes-brush for any stray hairs. 'He's not that kind of man. I should wait a little longer if I were you; no sense in rushing off and missing him. Besides, some men like helpless girls, they appeal to their protective instinct. '

Panic rose in Felicity's throat. 'He probably knows I've driven up to London hundreds of times, ' she said crossly. 'Besides, he wasn't sure whether he could get away on time. He might be in court until the last minute. '

She was rather proud of the last remark, for it sounded more than feasible. But the older woman was at the window like a shot at the sound of a car drawing up below on the gravel.

'Like to bet? ' she said succinctly. 'Right on time. '

'I beg your pardon? ' Felicity croaked on a sense of shock. 'Who's right on time? '

Anna, it seemed, was being deliberately obtuse. 'You were right, it looks as though Mr Moreau was unable to call for you. ' A pause while she peered through the window. 'His car is here, but a strange man is getting out. He looks rather pompous and very correct. I'd say it was his valet... Henri, I think you said. '

Felicity closed her eyes and sat up stiffly in her chair at the dressing table. 'I didn't, ' she answered. 'How... did you know Curt had a valet? '

Anna digested this. Then she said slowly, 'Come to think of it, Henri rang up this morning, introduced himself and enquired if you had changed your mind about this evening. He babbled some story about you telephoning last night cancelling the arrangement. '

Felicity surfaced from a sense of shock. 'You... you never told me. I never... '

Anna cut in calmly, 'That's what I said. You must have had your dates mixed up. No girl in her right mind would stand Curtis Moreau up on a date. And I'm sure I told you about it this morning. '

'But, Anna... you didn't... I... '

But Anna was not listening. 'You mustn't keep the man waiting, ' she said. 'Here's your evening bag; and I've put a clean hankie in. Have a good time. '

Before she could protest, Felicity found herself being piloted downstairs. to the waiting car and Henri. Henri was a thick-set man of indeterminate age, composed, non-garrulous and utterly self-effacing. Felicity could imagine him moving, silent, light-footed and mercilessly efficient, through Curt's domain.

He stood by the open door of the car, not very tall, with a Latin look about him; dapper, neatly dressed, dark hair sleeked back from a sallow skin and brown eyes. His eyebrows lifted in a look so full of startled appraisal that Felicity bristled. Then he was giving a slight bow with the click of chivalrous heels, lowering dark eyes sparkling with delight.

'A votre service, madame, ' 'he said in even, courteous tones. 'Mr Curtis Moreau has been delayed, and I have been dispatched to take you to await him at his chambers. '

Feeling a little strange, she sank into the back seat of the immaculate car and remembered with a swift pang her telephone call of the previous evening cancelling the engagement. Had the astute Henri told Curt about it, or had he carried out the whole operation keeping strictly neutral?

She felt a tingle of annoyance about the way the whole thing had been manoeuvred between the aggravating man taking his seat behind the wheel and Anna. For two pins she would get out of the car and send him back alone. Then, realizing how absurd the situation was, she relaxed.

The next hour went like a breeze, or was it the car? All too soon they had reached Lincolns Inn, where Henri became part of the cultured aura as he drove the car into a cobbled courtyard bright with geraniums in tubs. Felicity's heart began to beat in thick heavy strokes as Henri escorted her through a Saxon arched doorway to a suite of rooms on the first floor.

There she was shown into a room of comfortable padded leather and rich dark wood, the atmosphere of which sent all manner of turbulent feelings through her. Henri seated her suavely and, pouring out a glass of sherry, handed it to her with a supercilious little bow.

'Madame will not have to wait long, ' he assured her in the same suave tones. 'Perhaps a little music, or is there anything else Madame requires? '

Felicity blushed furiously beneath his searching gaze.

'No, thanks. I'm quite comfortable. '

She was angry with herself for being so flustered when there was no need to be. It was not until he had left the room that she began to relax. She sipped her sherry for something to do and felt it run through her veins like fire, dissolving her tenseness until her shoulders relaxed and the muscles of her neck and face became less rigid.

Every second waiting for Curt was like an hour, and to relieve the tedium of waiting, she finished her sherry and rose to take a closer look at the pictures adorning the walls of the room. One in particular held her attention, a colourful hunting scene in oils. The poor unfortunate fox reminded her of herself, especially as one of the pink-coated riders chasing it looked remarkably like Curt.

And so Curt, opening the door at that precise moment, saw her profile, the fine chiselling of her nose with its delicately wilful tilt, the tender lurking humour of her mouth and the graceful lines of her blue-clad form. His eyes were caught in the gleaming silk of her hair cascading down on to her shoulders like molten gold, and suddenly he collided with the shattering blue of her eyes as she turned her head.

To him it was a revelation which staggered him. Almost without volition he found himself quoting poetry, softly, mockingly as he closed the door and leaned back against it nonchalantly.

'A girl in blue.

How shall I greet her?

I've waited all my life to meet her.

She is scared, I think,

as I draw near

and trembles

with a girlish fear.

Her eyes deep blue, pools

in summer sun,

implore me wildly

to be gone.

But I will tarry

and tell her now.

I've taken a vow

to know her. '

Felicity listened entranced, and without realizing quite what was happening, suddenly found her doubts being charmed away. Grudgingly, she admitted that he was certainly a delightful man, and had an enchanting voice. Her heart lifted. She was going out to dine with a delightfully handsome and—she knew—devastatingly charming man who found her equally attractive. Fully confident now and revelling in the stirring sense of adventure ahead, she said with a smile, 'Does one person ever really know another? '

His eyes narrowed as he answered in that voice loaded with charm which instinct told her masked an iron will.

'I intend to know you better. Do you mind? '

He looked at her enquiringly. He had lunged away from the door, and was standing before her without seeming to have moved. He had changed into evening dress, and she noticed again the quiet perfection of his clothes and the air with which he wore them.

'Why should I? ' she asked with a smile.

'That's what I would like, to know. Why did you telephone last evening cancelling our date? '

His voice was low and dangerously soft. Her heart gave a sudden lurch, and she lowered her eyes as a wave of colour crept up beneath her clear skin, leaving her furious with herself for not being prepared for the obvious question.

'I don't honestly know, ' she admitted after a pause. 'Unless it was because you are so self-assured. You Q. C. s are a species who have quite an advantage over us less experienced women. ' She moistened dry lips. 'You give me the impression of being intense in everything you say and do; a poor girl wouldn't have a chance if you decided to storm her defences. And you know all the answers. '

'Are you afraid of me? ' he demanded, borrowing her forthrightness.

She nodded. 'Something like that. ' His frown made her add quickly, 'Have I annoyed you? '

Curt smiled slightly. 'I'm managing to bear it with a degree of fortitude, ' he answered dryly. 'This is most enlightening. Do go on. '

Felicity lifted her eyes. He was laughing at her, but she knew it was not so much at her as with her.

Her mouth curved demurely. 'I am being rather idiotic, aren't I? Ungrateful too, since you're doing so much for Blain. '

He said quietly, 'I want no gratitude for doing my job.

You owe me nothing. I would like to say one thing on the other subject. You're right when you say my demands of any woman would be high. But while I would expect her to give I would give as well. ' He placed firm fingers beneath her elbow. ' Shall we go? '

The evening was a complete success. The show they went to was a good one and dinner afterwards was equally enjoyable. It occurred to Felicity when he was driving her home that if he was a man of many words in court, outside he was a man of few. He never bored her with trying to impress, even though he must have been well aware that his appearance was enough to add more than ten per cent to the cost of any meal he had out. And she adored his sense of humour.

At her door he refused to come in for a drink, because he had work to do on a case on returning to his chambers.

Felicity nodded. comprehendingly and extended her hand. 'Thank you for a delightful evening, ' she said.

He held it firmly. 'When can I see you again? Tomorrow? '

She shook her head. 'Not tomorrow. '

'Saturday? ' he persisted.

He still held her hand and her heart was racing. There was no resisting his charm.

'All right, ' she replied, suddenly breathless. Then, before he could say anything further, she quickly withdrew her hand from his warm clasp and went indoors.

Deep sound sleep eluded her that night. Curt's image was forever before her and she wished with all her heart that she had never met him. Until he came she had been resigned to her old way of life and recalled with an aching heart the lovely tranquil days at Norton Towers, the long, leisurely days of summer with meals outdoors and the exhilarating canters on Sandy on winter mornings with the snow glistening like fairy icing on trees and shrubs.

She was awake and heavy-eyed when Anna came with her breakfast tray eager to hear about her night out, but she retold it as gaily as she could. The dark shadows beneath her eyes, however, did not escape Anna's keen gaze.

'You look peaky, ' she observed with concern, 'it's all that worry over Blain. Don't worry over him. He'll fall on his feet, as he always does. '

At eleven o'clock that morning a spray of dark red roses arrived. The attached card in Curt's firm masculine hand quickened Felicity's pulses, and Anna put them in a vase in her room where they made a vivid splash of colour against the pale walls. Looking at them, Felicity felt a cold numbness in her limbs, and her will seemed to have been bludgeoned. The next two days before she was due to meet him again were the longest she had. ever lived through. Try as she would, she found it impossible to concentrate upon anything for long without his image intruding. She raged in vain at her utter helplessness against the battery of his charm, and could not understand the longing for him that had taken hold of her—a longing she had never felt for any man before. Furthermore, she was loath to confide in Anna, recognizing it as an important issue in her life and one that she had to decide for herself.

Felicity felt instinctively that Curt was not the kind of man to indulge in idle affairs; a man in his position would be very selective where women were concerned. With a pang, she realized what she had missed through not being close to her mother. It would have been a relief to confide in her and have the benefit of her advice. But she knew Elvira would see it not as a problem but as a splendid match for her only daughter.

So the time went on. She was ready in her room when his car drew up at the door.

'He's here, ' said Anna, turning from the window to survey Felicity's slender quivering figure with unfeigned delight. Her dress, in delicate pink chiffon, gave her an ethereal look as though mortal hands had not touched it. The skirt was composed of layers of chiffon falling softly from her small waist. Her creamy shoulders rose as delicately smooth as flower petals above the swathed bodice, and her eyes were deep blue bewildered pools.

'You look ravishing, ' said Anna, going forward quickly to pick up the white ermine evening jacket. 'He's come himself, ' she whispered conspiratorially, and lifted her eyes heavenwards. 'Wow! What a man! '

Felicity picked up her evening bag, waited a few moments while her pulses slowed down, then went downstairs. Curt stood by the car, looking carelessly elegant and inscrutable in evening dress. He came forward immediately on seeing her, and after a murmured greeting opened the car door.

The inside of the car was roomy and fresh, the hide upholstery well-sprung and comfortable. Felicity felt a certain solace in not having to. sit too near to him on the wide seat, and she was silent as he swung the car round on the drive. His long firm fingers were relaxed and easy on the wheel. He drove as she had expected him to, with the confidence of a man who would excel in whatever he set out to do.

'Miss me? ' he asked, casting a glance at her quiet profile.

'I could ask the same of you, ' she replied demurely.

'And I'd tell you. I've missed you. '

Felicity looked down at her hands, clasped loosely in her lap. He had said what she wanted him to say; yet she was still unwilling to become involved. His nearness suffocated her. He was too dynamic, too overwhelming, and why did he have to have that deep, enchanting voice? But only the deep throbbing of her heart answered her, her treacherous heart that was so ready to leap at the sound of his voice, his nearness.

'I hope you don't mind, ' he went on. 'We're going to dine with a colleague of mine this evening, Judge Greatman. I believe you know him well. '

She relaxed a little and said quietly, 'He's a great friend of ours. I've known him since I was a little girl. '

In her mind's eye, Felicity was seeing a middle-aged thick-set man of kindly mien and patient countenance. At his dinner parties one invariably met many famous and distinguished people.

At dinner she was seated between Curt and a well-known writer whom she had longed to meet, and she divided her attention between them, listening silently and intelligently to their conversation. It pleased her that Curt grew gradually cooler in his conversation as the writer became almost amorous.

'You are the sort of woman I very rarely meet, ' he murmured into her small pink ear, 'beautiful and intelligent, with that rare gift of knowing how to listen. When can I see you again? '

It was Curt who answered for her. Curtly, abruptly, he said with a proprietorial glance at her flushed face, 'The lady is already spoken for. '

'Delighted to have had your company this evening, Felicity, ' the Judge said kindly on their departure. 'Give my regards to your parents. ' He cast a droll look at the tall figure of Curt beside her. 'One thing I like about my parties, I meet such nice people. You, Curt, have known many beautiful women and had your quota of affairs, but tonight you've excelled yourself—you'll never meet anyone who will come up to this little girl here. I've known her since she was so high, so take care of her. '

Curt was very quiet on the way back to Norton Towers. At her door he was already out of the car opening her door and, before she could speak, he said, 'Thanks for an enchanting evening, ' and kissed her firmly on her softly parted lips. 'I'd like you to go to Paris with me next weekend to meet my mother. I'll telephone to let you know when I shall be coming to pick you up. '

He was behind the wheel and down the drive while she stood there with a strange paralysis in all her joints, watching his car disappear from view.

The unexpected touch of his firm, cool lips had revived all her misgivings and increased them, so that she went to her room in a fever of uncertainty.

They went to Paris on Friday evening. Felicity, seated beside Curt in the plane, refused to dwell upon the idea that he was taking her to Paris for his mother's approval. But the thought persistently pushed its way through her consciousness and, in an effort to forget it, she concentrated on the continental weekend ahead with Curt in the most romantic city on earth.

Soon she would be seeing with him the lovely Champs Elysees, the distant sweep of the Place de la Concorde and the beautiful Sacre Coeur set like a crown on the hill of Montmartre. Curt, she knew, would be the ideal companion. Dreamily she cast a sideways look as he sat relaxed beside her, a big brown man whom few women could resist. Already he dominated her until her will had become a malleable thing in his strong, well-cared-for brown hands. He had come into her life unexpectedly, and as unexpectedly had completely filled it.

Travelling with Curt was simple and relaxing; he saw to all her comforts as naturally and easily as he manipulated anything else. Everyone responded to his courteous demands and devastating smile with a grin of acknowledgement. And the air hostesses had gazed upon him dewy-eyed.

It was seven-forty when the plane touched down at Beauvais and they collected the car Curt had hired to take them to Paris.

'We're meeting Mother at her favourite hotel in Paris, ' Curt told her with a mocking smile of amusement at her heightened colour.

The journey to Paris took most of the next two hours, with Felicity trying not to picture what his mother would be like. People were never how you pictured them anyway, she told herself, hoping that she would not be disappointed.

Madame Moreau came into the hotel foyer a little out of breath—the epitome of French elegance in a Claude Riviere suit. Slender, chic and soignee, she approached them gracefully with outstretched hands, and Felicity felt the impact of her warm personality and charm. An exquisite gold watch studded with diamonds gleamed on her slender wrist, toning with the diamond and pearl necklace and earrings. Her brown hair had only a sprinkling of grey and her voice was seductively low-pitched.

'Curt! ' she cried. 'How lovely to see you! '

He bent his head to kiss the perfumed cheek, so smooth and round with scarcely a wrinkle to mar it. Then he grinned down into the brown eyes which had not lost the brilliance of youth.

'You look younger each time I see you, ' he teased, and turned to Felicity who had hung back. Taking her arm he drew her forward. 'Mother, this is Felicity. '

Felicity was aware of the subtle fragrance of eau de Cologne as Madame Moreau leaned forward to kiss her.

'I'm so happy to meet you, ' she said, and she laughed with sheer pleasure, a throaty chuckle full of warmth, before stepping back to look at her. 'Why, Curt, she is ravissante! '

'I agree, ' he answered with a mocking smile for Felicity. Then he was arming them both out of the foyer to where his mother had parked her car.

'It's naughty of Curt not to tell me about you, ' said his mother as they drove away from the kerb. 'I had no idea that I was in for such a pleasant surprise. '

Curt had put both of them in the back of the car and had taken the wheel himself. Madame Moreau's warm, friendliness had put Felicity instantly at her ease, and she found herself wishing she had known her husband. Like her son she was vital, intelligent and charming with a distinctive personality, the impact of which made itself felt. She listened with lively interest while Felicity told her something of her life at Norton Towers. Then she shook her head.

'Country life would never do for me, ' she said in her delicious husky voice, 'I'm a city sparrow. I was born and bred in London. I hate country tweeds and slogging along muddy lanes in sturdy shoes. I like elegant and gracious living, the theatres, the night life, furs and jewellery and living in Paris. '

Felicity nodded comprehendingly. 'It wouldn't do for us all to be alike. I like city life too, but I love my home life very much. ' She smiled, knowing that they had one thing in common, their love for the wide-shouldered, dark-haired Curt.

They continued to talk happily together, and presently Curt turned off a tree-lined avenue into a courtyard with walls covered by Virginia creeper. White shutters at the windows gave a festive-air to the villa set in a garden.

'You'll feel at home here, Felicity, ' said Madame Moreau, and gestured to an archway in the creeper-clad wall giving a glimpse of the gardens beyond. 'We have a kitchen garden and a rose garden as well. The latter is very romantic; we have a cupid on a fountain. '

She laughed with delight at Felicity's blush and Curt, stopping the car, turned to ask what the joke was.

'It's just my fun, ' his mother answered, and winked at Felicity, a wink that bound them together for all time.

Inside the villa one felt the influence of the charming garden. The main salon had walls of pale grey with French tapestry on two walls; sofas, chairs and curtains were covered in a pattern cretonne in pink, green and gold set amidst Chinese porcelain and superb French period furniture. Everywhere Felicity saw the feminine touch which makes a house a home.

The guest room to which Madame Moreau escorted Felicity was also very charming. The canopied bed had blue-tasselled cretonne drapes of roses on a cream ground.

Curtains and Regency tub chairs were upholstered to match, and the whole effect, set against blue ceiling and carpet with cream walls, was enchanting. The scent of roses set about the room in crystal vases was refreshingly sweet, and Felicity gazed around with sparkling eyes.

'Do you like it? ' asked Madame Moreau.

'Very much. ' Felicity walked to the tall windows to look out on to the garden.

'Are you in love with my son? '

Felicity spun round startled. 'I... I don't... '

Madame Moreau smiled gently. 'I'm sorry, I had no right to ask that question. Please forgive me. I spoke out of turn mainly because you're the first girl he has ever brought home. The others he would never invite; when I suggested he brought them home, he'd just smile and say that they were not important. Now do you see why I've asked you? '

Felicity moistened dry lips. 'Yes, but I'm not sure. Curt is so overwhelming, so dynamic, too much a man. '

'And would you have him less a mail? '

Madame Moreau looked intently at the delicate features suffused pink with embarrassment and uncertainty, and her eyes lingered on the golden hair forming a halo about the small head against the background of the window.

Felicity's voice was more firm. 'No, I don't suppose I would, but there's this feeling of being rushed into something—something that will take me away from everything I love and have become used to. '

'And don't you think Curt isn't aware of it? I've brought up my son with a rigid sense of right and wrong, but I haven't spoiled him with a maudlin love. My own marriage was wonderfully happy and I allowed my husband to bring up Curt as a man. '

'I can see that when I compare him with my brother Blain, who's been hopelessly spoiled by my mother. '

Madame Moreau shook her head. 'We all have a great deal to learn from life, and the young especially. Not all mothers conform to being sensible over their sons. But I've taught my son that love is the most important thing in life, and that the wealthiest people are mere paupers if they have never known it or practised it. '

'He's very arrogant and self-sufficient. '

'Pouf! ' Madame Moreau snapped her fingers. 'And what man worthy of the name is not a little arrogant, my dear? '

Felicity gave a nervous little laugh. 'You sound awfully eager for me to marry Curt. '

'I am. I know you can make my son ideally happy; you are a very sweet, very feminine and understanding person. Curt needs a wife and children of his own to learn first hand of human frailties. He was a brilliant boy at school and he's a very clever lawyer. He has an excellent career at his fingertips because he's strong-minded. ' The older woman smiled rather wistfully. 'Before his father died, Curt was easy-going and didn't take life too seriously; now he can be ruthless and very scrupulous. '

Felicity smiled. 'You're a dear, Madame Moreau, for telling me about Curt. But I'm afraid he has already charmed me into submission. I have no idea how long I can hold out against him. '

'Don't, ' said Madame Moreau, adding as she turned towards the door with the swift graceful movement habitual to her, 'Come down when you're ready. I put dinner off until you both arrived. '

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