CHAPTER FIVE

That weekend in Paris was a wonderful one for Felicity. With Curt still managing to look carelessly elegant in sports shirt and slacks, they roamed the famous parts of the city, stopping here and there for an iced beer or coffee at one of the open-air cafes, to watch the motley crowds drifting by. It pleased her to see Curt relax and shed the taut vitality habitual to him. They shared laughter and a complete and absorbing interest in the same things, and each time his smile flashed out her heart did crazy things.

They had Saturday lunch beneath the centuries-old beams of an enchanting eating-place in the Latin quarter— creamed-vegetable soup, a featherlight pancake of ham covered in a delicious sauce, tender steaks with mixed vegetables, pineapples in Kirsch, a bottle of burgundy and coffee. Later they strolled past the artists at work in the quaint main square of Montmartre and went on to enjoy the splendour of the Louvre.

Madame Moreau, busily engaged in her own social activities, left them alone to their own devices, but Curt insisted that she went out to dinner with them on Saturday evening. Curt was an excellent guide and companion, and Felicity, lost beneath the spell of his casual charm, his strength and vitality, his careless fingers on her elbow, longed to clasp his hand and hold it closely.

But although he could not have been more considerate in his bantering, easy way, he never kissed her or embraced her again. He was generous to a degree, and when he purchased a bottle of his mother's favourite perfume by Jean-Marie Farina, he bought her the same and a beautiful three-stringed necklace of perfectly matched pearls. Paris abounded with lovers, arms entwined, and Curt smiled down at her mockingly when they happened to pass a particularly demonstrative couple standing locked in each other's arms.

It was during that weekend in Paris that Felicity began to realize that her former life, happy though it had been, had not been complete. She knew now that there was a greater companionship than that of a brother. She was deliriously happy in the knowledge that love was the essential part of every woman's life, that the love of a man who would protect her and make her feel wanted.

It was a new and thrilling sensation to find herself taken care of in a way which Blain, who had always been too busy thinking of himself, had never done. They returned to London on Sunday night, and when Curt delivered her to her door and drove away, Felicity knew that she loved him desperately. She wanted him with her for all time, and her home meant nothing, so great was her need of him. Her life was empty now he had gone, and it was with a great effort she pulled herself together, telling herself he would come back.

The next week was the longest she had ever lived through. There was no word from Curt, but the roses arrived each day with his card. Several times she lifted the telephone to call him, but pride always made her put it down. Blain came home the following weekend. They went riding together, played tennis and dined out with friends, with Felicity feeling more like an onlooker than an actual participant.

With a sense of shock Felicity realized that although her love for Blain was still as deep as ever, their close association through the years was now less important; the tie between them was becoming less strong. She was fearful of leaving the house in case Curt rang up.

Blain was going back to his regiment on Sunday night and they were having a last drink together after dinner. Her brother, lounging comfortably in his chair, picked up the drink at his elbow and said, 'I saw our friend Curt Moreau two evenings this week. Guess who he was dining with? '

Felicity shook her head. 'You tell me, ' she answered with a lightness she did not feel.

Blain found it necessary to take a long pull at his drink before he answered.

'Nora Staffordly, ' he said at last. 'You know, I suppose, that they're very old friends? '

Felicity stared down into the drink taken merely to keep her brother company. Miserably, she was beginning to understand Curt's former constraint during the weekend in Paris. It had been he who had set the pattern of their behaviour, he who had been keen-eyed about her wants and endeavoured to keep her happy. How clever he had been to keep within the limits of platonic friendship! It had been entirely by accident that they had discovered their fondness for the same kind of music, beautiful old buildings and works of art. The harmony of togetherness in which she had revelled had not been the spontaneous recognition of twin souls made for each other, it had been the brain child of Curt. But why?

The lovely memory of that weekend was gone. Their friendship rushing headily to the promise of love's fulfilment, the shared fun and laughter which she had hugged jealously to herself, had been a figment of her imagination. Curt's lean brown features swam before her eyes. Those long brown fingers which she had begun to know so well would never caress her. They were reserved for women more experienced and exciting than herself. He might have even found her rather naive and amusing, a refreshing though rather dull change from the kind of women he knew. She almost cringed at the thought and in that moment hated Nora Staffordly and her kind with a fierce hate entirely alien to her sweet nature.

With a great effort she managed to keep her voice steady although her lips felt stiff and cold.

'She's a client of his, Blain. Don't forget you're in it together. You and... Nora Staffordly. '

'Hell! Don't I know it, ' Blain answered with brotherly candour, 'I can't sleep for thinking about it. I wish it was all over. '

'You can't wish it more than I, ' Felicity answered, wondering how one set about falling out of love. Then, like the warm-hearted, unselfish person she was, she leaned forward and patted his hand. 'Don't worry, Curt is very clever. He'll get you out of it if anyone can. '

'Of course he will, darling. '

Elvira came into the room having overheard the last remark, and perched herself on the arm of her son's chair. Ruffling his curls fondly, she glanced at the exquisite diamond and platinum watch on her wrist.

'You're cutting it fine, Blain, it's time you were off, ' she reminded him.

He drained his glass and said irritably, 'Don't fuss, Mother. I've plenty of time. '

Elvira smiled placatingly. 'Now you know, darling, how I hate the thought of you speeding back to London. Be a good-boy and give yourself plenty of time. '

'Oh, all right. ' Blain put down his empty glass and rose grudgingly to his feet. 'Anyone would think you wanted to be rid of me. Speeding to London might be good practice; who knows, I might take up motor racing if the worst comes to the worst. '

Elvira's face paled at the thought. 'Oh no, darling! Anything but that! ' she cried.

But Blain only laughed, and, kissing his mother, flicked a careless hand in Felicity's direction and went out to his car.

'He's only teasing, Mother. Don't look so stricken. It takes money to go in for motor racing, and you provide most of that. Blain couldn't do it on the allowance he gets from Daddy, ' Felicity said consolingly. 'You can always refuse to give him the money. '

Elvira looked thoughtful. 'So I can. Thank you, Felicity, you're a sweet child. I wish Blain were more like you in his ways. '

She smiled faintly, as Felicity had meant her to, and left the room.

By ten o'clock, Felicity was in bed staring into the darkness, hard-eyed. In Paris there had been moments when she had been hard put to it not to wind her arms around Curt's neck and draw down his dark head for her kiss. And in such romantic surroundings Curt might have succumbed, even to telling her of a love he did not feel. The only consolation was that he would never know how her bones melted at his nearness, and how even the memory of him filled her with an aching longing.

To be fair, he had not deceived her in any way. She had only herself to blame. Now she had to forget, and try to pick up the pieces to start again. But she couldn't settle to anything indoors and her heart lurched painfully each time the telephone rang. So when David Colston rang her up on Monday afternoon to ask her to go out to dinner with him, she accepted.

She went out every evening that week, dancing at the parties of friends and playing tennis in strenuous matches at the local tennis club in order to take her mind off Curt. The roses still arrived every day, and she could only think that he had forgotten to cancel the order.

'Mr. Moreau busy? ' Anna asked on Thursday, as Felicity prepared for an evening out at a birthday ball of a friend.

Felicity smiled briefly. 'Very, ' she replied with grim candour.

'The roses are lovely. Must cost him a pretty penny, ' remarked Anna sagely. 'They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. '

Felicity grimaced. 'There's always the telephone. And don't tell me he has laryngitis. '

The other's eyes softened. 'Do you want him? That's the point. '

'I don't know for sure, ' she answered slowly, adding whimsically, 'that's the trouble. '

Anna looked at her critically. 'The trouble with you is you don't recognise a real man when you see one. Curt Moreau will still be a dish at seventy. And one is never too old to appreciate amusement and happiness, both of which he'll provide even at that age. '

Felicity did not reply. She rose from her seat at the dressing table and put out her hand for the evening wrap Anna was holding. Her smile was briefly mocking, and Anna, seeing the shadows in her deep blue eyes, put a strong, friendly arm around her shoulders with the wrap. 'Why not accept what fate has to offer? The Curt Moreaus don't come very often. '

At the ball Felicity did not miss a dance. Popular as always among her friends, she laughed and flitted from partner to partner with all her old vigour. It was at the end of the evening when she was being taken home that all the life went out of her.

Her escort, a fellow officer of Blain's in the Guards, had hopefully offered to escort her home.

At her door, he said boyishly, 'There's a dance at the officers' mess this weekend. I'd deem it an honour if you'd come with me. '

She shook her head. 'Some other time, perhaps, ' she murmured, and went indoors swiftly. Before long she was creeping into the illimitable comfort which a soft bed brings to weary limbs.

A note came with the roses the following morning. Curt had written without preliminary. 'Picking you up at two' was scrawled in his masculine hand on the card.

'Who does he think he is? ' Felicity cried. 'For all he knows I could have made arrangements to go out this afternoon. '

Anna looked at her indignant face and smiled at the rose colour flooding into her pale cheeks.

'I think the blue dress, don't you? ' she suggested with a twinkle.

Curt stood waiting by his car when she appeared. He was smoking a cigarette, his profile clear-cut against the sky as he exhaled and stared thoughtfully across the garden. There was a leashed vitality about him, in his firm, determined stance, almost Latin in his entire concentration of thought, sent her heart thudding against her ribs. Then he turned, saw her, and quickly ground out the cigarette with his heel. He was perfectly at ease, as if it was perfectly all right to meet her again after a week's silence which needed no explanation. He showed not the least embarrassment and Felicity was torn between wanting to hit him and throw herself into his arms.

'Where are we going? ' asked Felicity in a low voice directly Norton Towers was left behind.

'To the Garden of Eden, ' came the answer.

Her heart suddenly accelerated at the look in his eyes.

'Tell me more, ' she murmured.

'You'll know in due course, ' he answered laconically.

They arrived early at Glyndebourne, and all at once she knew that it was to be the most important date of her life. It was a breathless summer afternoon and the midges were out in force around the lake, but she was only conscious of the man moving with graceful nonchalance by her side. His light grip on her elbow was setting inward fires burning fiercely.

'A perfect setting, wouldn't you agree? ' he said, his voice strangely deep.

She nodded and he went on, 'I've been looking forward to this all week. I've had a devil of a time, and I haven't been able to call my life my own. But I have achieved results, and I have a feeling this is my lucky week. '

Felicity did not ask him what he meant, she was too bemused. The air around the lake was cool, the glades heavenly and the velvet green lawns gave a sweet earthy scent which mingled with the flowers. It was impossible not to enjoy an opera in such heavenly surroundings.

They sat silent through the first act, lost in the music and the superb acting and singing.

'Did you enjoy it? ' he asked, as he seated her at their little table for supper on the lawn.

'Very much. ^?

They had finished their meal when he reached for her hands across the table.

'I refuse to go through another week like this one, ' he told her with masculine determination, his eyes holding her own captive by sheer strength of will. 'You have to marry me, and soon. '

The rustle of silk accompanied by a subtle perfume swept up to their table and before Felicity had really taken in his words a voice spoke somewhere behind her head.

'Curt! What a lovely surprise! You didn't say you were coming here when I saw you last evening. You naughty boy! '.

Felicity sat very still as Nora Staffordly swept up to confront them both. Her smile, which included them both, lingered on Curt's dark face.

Slowly he rose to his feet, gave a mocking little bow and said, 'Well met, Nora. You're the first to know—I've just proposed to Felicity. She hasn't given me her answer yet, but I refuse to take no, so she had better be warned. '

He sat down again, but the look of a lover smouldering in his eyes hardly registered on Felicity's consciousness. She was looking at Nora Staffordly and thinking that she had never seen her looking so lovely. Her white skin, her gleaming red hair, her gold dress shimmering like molten metal in the rays of the evening sun, were breathtaking. If she had been dealt a mortal blow, and Felicity felt that she had, she betrayed no sign of it. For a moment a flash, so faint that it scarcely touched the white skin, warmed her cheeks. Then with a gesture of infinite grace she held out her hand to Felicity, who affected not to see it. The hand was dropped and this time the colour flooded Nora Staffordly's face at the direct snub.

A hard look came into the amber eyes and the tired look about her lids became more discernible. Stiffly erect she said, 'Congratulations, Miss Vale-Norton, Curt. I must return to my friends. It will soon be time for the second act. '

Mrs Staffordly had not spoken a moment too soon, for Felicity was aware of Curt rising to his feet to take her arm and escort her back into the opera house. The second act was even more wonderful than the first and Curt gave a sigh of satisfaction at the end of it. They went back to their table on the lawn again and he was opening a bottle of champagne.

'Well, Miss Vale-Norton, ' he said banteringly as he poured out the bubbling liquid. 'What do you say to our getting married? I might add before you give me your answer that any objection will be strictly overruled. '

He passed her glass and laughed mockingly into her flushed face. She watched him pouring out a second drink for himself, loving the strength of his hands and the interested angle of his arrogantly poised head. , 'It seems I have no choice, ' she said demurely.

'You have one, ' he corrected her, 'you can choose to marry me. '

'Do you always get your way in this dastardly fashion? ' she demanded.

'Always, ' he said darkly with a mocking grin. 'Here's to us. '

Was it her fancy, or did she hear Nora Staffordly's laugh on the still night air? Whether she had or not, the sound echoed in her brain as Curt leaned forward across the table after putting down his glass.

'What about a kiss to seal the bargain? '

With the laugh ringing in her ears, Felicity said stiffly, 'This is hardly the place, is it? '

He looked startled at her set face. 'I'd say there was none better, but have it your way. I can wait. '

His eyes deepened and darkened as they looked into hers and her heart raced, making her breathless. He insisted upon her taking a second glass of the champagne before they left and packed their picnic things together. Then he was manoeuvring his car from the car park, taking the main road and pressing down the accelerator.

Felicity knew he would stop, as he did when they turned off into a quiet road. Deliberately, he slid an arm around her and placed a lean finger beneath her chin. Then he bent his head and her heart did crazy things as his mouth found hers, this time determined to have his way. To Felicity it was like standing close to a furnace, an agony of joy. The heat was there, taking her breath, devouring her until she trembled with a mixture of exhilaration and joy tinged with fear. He was all passion and fire. He represented what life was all about, all that it meant in the fulfilment of womanhood.

When he released her she gasped, and he laughed down into her face before looking suddenly contrite.

'Darling, was I a brute? ' he said. 'It's your fault for being so desirable. You even made me forget to give you the ring. '

The next moment it was on her finger, and some of his arrogance went as he asked her anxiously if she liked it.

'It's beautiful, ' she breathed, gazing down in awe at the perfect sapphire twinkling happily at her.

'The blue of your eyes, ' he whispered, his lips moving down her neck and into the hollow at the base of her throat.

There was a light coming from the tall windows of the library when they returned to Norton Towers.

Felicity, noticing it, remarked, 'Daddy's still up. Mummy and he have been out for the evening. '

'Good, ' said Curt, unperturbed, 'I'd like to see him. '

She went with him to the library where the Colonel was in the act of choosing a book to take to bed. He looked up, bushy eyebrows raised, when Curt walked in with an arm around his daughter.

Curt came right to the point. 'Sorry to disturb you at this hour, sir, but I have news for you; I've just asked your daughter to marry me. I hope you approve. '

The older man looked at them both beneath beetling brows. 'I'll have to if she has consented, ' was the uncompromising answer. But his look at his favourite child was decidedly humble. Her radiant face told him that he had lost her to a man he admired but did not wholly like. His look was suddenly fierce when he gazed over her head as she flung herself into his arms.

'You have a prize, my boy. Make sure you take care of her, that's all I ask. '

'I'm sorry I'm taking her from you, sir, but I have a bit of news which I'm sure will make you feel better. Staffordly is dropping his suit for divorce. He and his wife are to live in Paris, ' Curt told her.

Felicity recalled those words later in her room as she tried vainly to go to sleep. Blain would be on top of the world when he heard about it and she was glad for his sake, even more for her father, who would have found the scandal hard to live with. Why then was she so restless? Being engaged to Curt should send her pie-eyed with happiness. If only Curt had told her about the Staffordlys having second thoughts about the divorce before Nora Staffordly had come to their table at Glyndebourne, in which case she would not have snubbed the woman. She felt so mean about it, but she had been angry with Nora for bringing Blain into her sordid life.

For some reason Nora Staffordly always succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable. There seemed to be something about her, a tragic aura which reflected in her lovely eyes. Irritably, Felicity asked herself why the woman had to keep intruding into her life; first it was Blain, now Curt. Had it been Curt who had persuaded Staffordly not to go on with the divorce, or was it Nora? But they were questions that her tired brain refused to handle, and she fell asleep at last from sheer exhaustion.

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