Love Is My Reason (9 page)

“
But—it can
’
t be!
”
Anya looked up, and her startled gaze travelled round the circle of faces, as though she sought some explanation among them.
“
I know him. I mean, I know that photograph—quite well.
”

“
You
know
him?
”
Teresa Preston
’
s voice ran up excitedly, almost hysterically, so that Celia said wa
rn
ingly,
“
Careful, Mother. It
’
s all right. She is probably mistaken.
”

“
No, I am not mistaken.
”
Anya spoke almost sharply to the other girl.
“
I do know the photograph. I have one like it. It
’
s upstairs. David—
”
she turned eagerly to him for confirmation
—“
you saw it. You even asked me about it.
”

“
David! Is that true?
”
Mrs. Preston turned almost accusingly upon him.

“
Yes, but
—
”

“
Why didn
’
t you
tell
me? Don
’
t you see what this
means? Why, it
’
s proof positive
—
”

“
No, Teresa. It isn
’
t proof positive of anything.
”
That was Lady Ranmere, unemotional, almost stolid, in her determination to bring everything bade to a normal level.
“
It was I who persuaded David to say nothing for the moment. I hardly thought this evening was the right occasion for upsetting discussion. In any case, I understand that Anya
’
s photograph is of two young men. She doesn
’
t know which is—the important one.
”

“
I don
’
t know what you are talking about.
”
Teresa Preston
’
s usually rather colorless face was suffused and her eyes flashed indignantly.
“
You had no right, Mary, to keep such a discovery from me. My dear—
”
she put a slightly trembling hand on Anya
’
s arm
—“
my dear
—
”

“
Mother,
please
don
’
t commit yourself to anything until you hear the full facts.
”
It was Celia
’
s voice which interrupted—coolly,
cl
early and, to tell the truth, with a note of authority not unwelcome to some of her hearers.

“
But I want the child to tell me what she knows. Would you—would you bring your photograph down here and show me?
”

“
Let her finish her dinner first,
”
Lady Ranmere began. But Anya, who was looking at the other woman with a sort of puzzled compassion, said,

“
I don
’
t mind about my dinner. I will fetch the photograph, if it will please you. Though I don
’
t understand—
”

“
Nor do any of us, really,
”
Bertram observed.
“
But fetch the photograph, there
’
s a good girl. It will make discussion a whole lot easier.
”

Anya gave him a brief, almost amused glance. And it struck David, rather disagreeably, that in some odd way she understood Bertram rather better than most people did.

She got up immediately, and David, with the curious feeling that she was still too lost and unprotected to go about the outside world alone, asked quickly,

“
Shall I come too?
”

“
No, thank you. I know the way.
”

She left them, and for a moment there was silence at the table. Then Mrs. Preston passed her hands nervously over her face and said,

“
I don
’
t know why you
’
re all so calm about it. Do you realize this is the first news I have had of Martin since he disappeared over twenty years ago?
”

“
Teresa dear, of course we realize. And you mustn
’
t think us unsympathetic.
”
Lady Ranmere looked at her friend with genuine compassion.
“
But a photograph of him in the possession of this unknown girl may mean nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
”

“
Her father was an Englishman.
”

“
Well, yes. I know that is a coincidence, but
—
”

“
Coincidence!
”
Teresa Preston
’
s almost rudely scornful little laugh showed how excited she was and how far removed from her usual timid self.

“
Lady Ranmere is right, Mother.
”
Celia spoke gently but coldly.
“
If this girl
’
s father was an Englishman, as David has been told, her mother may well have known several English people. It
’
s not inconceivable that—that Martin was one of them.
”

“
Oh, you all want to explain it away! But I know,
”
Mrs. Preston insisted excitedly.
“
I have a feeling about her. I had the first moment she came into the room. How can you try to talk me out of my conviction in that matter-of-fact way, Celia? Do you realize that the girl you
’
re rejecting may be your brother
’
s child? Your own niece?
”

Celia flushed slightly and it was obvious that the suggestion was not a welcome one, which was understandable,
David thought, for how many attractive young women would be eager to have an almost grown-up niece wished upon them?

“
She may be a relation, of course,
”
Celia said drily.
“
On the other hand, the probabilities are rather against it.
”

“
Feelings apart, it is an extraordinary situation,
”
Bertram remarked, in the awkward little silence which succeeded Celia
’
s final protest.
“
If you put it on a stage, no one would believe it. Unless that girl herself acted the part. Then one could believe anything, I suppose.
”

“
Could one?
”
Celia looked at him in slightly hostile surprise.
“
She seems a nice inoffensive little thing. But hardly a personality.
”

David was glad Bertram immediately replied, or he himself might have spoken in unsuitably emphatic terms.

“
It
’
s a wonderful stage face, Celia.
”
Bertram spoke almost carelessly, but his eyes narrowed very slightly, as they did when he was excited.

“
That
’
s just a phrase.
”
Celia shrugged scornfully.
“
It doesn
’
t really mean anything. Anyway, I don
’
t see how you can look at this rather undistinguished, shabby girl across a dinner-table and pronounce her to be suitable for the stage.
”

“
I didn
’
t say that.
”
Bertram was good-humoured but unmoved.
“
For that one needs other things beside a stage face. What I did mean was that she has beautiful bone
-
structure—which gives underlying significance to any makeup; complete repose of features—one of the rarest things on earth; and a natural power of expression which mirrors her thoughts even before she has put them into words.
”

“
She can look secret and enigmatic too,
”
David said, before he could stop himself.

“
I think you both exaggerate,
”
observed Lady Ranmere a little repressively, while Celia looked as though she thought they had both gone slightly mad.

There was silence again, and then Anya came back.

She went straight over to Teresa Preston
’
s side and laid the singularly unfaded photograph on the table before her.

To David, watching, there was something both dramatic and touching about the way the older woman hung over the photograph, while the girl stood, quiet and unknowing, beside her.

“
There
’
s no possible mistake.
”
Mrs. Preston spoke in a choked voice and she passed the photograph to her daughter.
“
There
’
s no possible mistake. It is Martin.
”

Lady Ranmere and Bertram both craned forward to see.

“
Yes,
”
Celia agreed quietly,
“
it is Martin.
”
Then she turned to the waiting girl and said,
“
Do you mind telling us how you came to have this photograph?
”

In much the same words as she had used to David, Anya explained about the two young men being friends of her mother years ago, and, after a moment
’
s hesitation, she added the fact that her mother had owned to being very fond of one of them.

At this there was a pregnant silence, until Mrs. Preston asked rather huskily,
“
Which one?
”
And when Anya once more shook her head and explained that her mother had refused to say which one, Mrs. Preston gave a slight moan.

“
Almost as though she foresaw today,
”
Bertram remarked. And, when his mother gave him a glance of reproof, he whispered,
“
I can
’
t help it, Mother. It
’
s so extraordinarily piquant this way.
”

“
But don
’
t you know anything about him? Can
’
t you remember your mother saying anything else at all?
”
Mrs. Preston looked helplessly at the girl, as though she hardly knew whether to embrace her as a granddaughter or reject her as an imposter, albeit an innocent one.

“
I am so sorry.
”
Anya frowned in an effort to remember.
“
I never knew him, you see. He was never more than a photograph.
”

“
He—died before you were born?
”
Mrs. Preston forced herself to say that.

“
One of them did,
”
Celia corrected.
“
The one that Anya
’
s mother was fond of. We don
’
t know which of the two that was.
”

Again Anya looked from face to face, and immediately David realized what Bertram had meant about her expression mirroring her thoughts. As though she had spoken aloud, one could tell that she was puzzled, a little afraid of annoying someone, acutely conscious of some drama in the air, and yet unable to associate herself with it.

“
I do not really understand
—“
she began, and her
glance rested on David, with a relief which was as patent
as all the other emotions, and which drew him to her like a magnet.

He came round to her side of the table, and only the presence of the others kept him from putting his arm round her. As it was, he took her hand and said,

“
We didn
’
t mean to involve you in a family scene this very first evening, Anya. But the fact is that Mrs. Preston
’
s son, Martin, disappeared somewhere in Europe many years ago. Nothing further was ever heard of him. And now she finds that your mother knew him and that you have a photograph of him. You will understand that she is very
upset—very
—
”

“
Oh
—
”
The girl turned and, with a completely unselfconscious gesture of compassion, put her arms round the other woman.
“
You poor mother! I thought people like you were all secure and happy. But you lost your son, and never knew any more
—
That
’
s almost worse than having no place in the world.
”
And she kissed Mrs. Preston with a simple feeling beyond anything Celia could have achieved.

“
Oh, darling
—
”
Poor Mrs. Preston burst into tears.
“I
know
you
’
re his. Nothing else could make you so sweet
and understanding. They
’
re all trying to tell me
—
But
they don
’
t understand
—
”

“
Mother, don
’
t!
”
Celia went round to her mother then, but more to shield her from the curious glances of the few other diners left in the room.
“
I think you
’
d better come upstairs, and we can discuss this in private. But do remember that—Anya—
”
she seemed to have some difficulty in saying the girl
’
s name
—“
has had enough excitement and emotion for one day. Don
’
t try to add what may be quite incorrect details.
”

“
I
’
m sorry.
”
Mrs. Preston recovered herself surprisingly quickly.
“
Only, it
’
s so strange—so incredible—and yet so right.
”

“
I am sorry, too,
”
Anya said, as though she knew that, in some way, Celia was blaming her. And then, to Mrs. Preston,
“
Don
’
t cry any more. I will try hard to remember anything my mother said about him.
”

“
Don
’
t try too hard,
”
Celia warned her drily.
“
One is apt to draw on one
’
s imagination then.
”

The other girl drew back sharply. And Celia took her mother
’
s arm and led her determinedly from the room.

“
Well, shall we finish our meal?
”
suggested Lady Ranmere. And they all four resumed their dinner, though with somewhat diminished appetite.

Conversation was not easy. But Lady Ranmere did her best, and it was not until the end of the meal that she began to look really uncertain. David guessed that she was longing to go and have what she would no doubt call a quiet and sensible talk with Mrs. Preston. At the same time, responsibility for Anya weighed heavily upon her.

Not quite sure whether he were helping his aunt or merely pleasing himself, David turned to the girl and said,

“
If you aren
’
t tired still, would you like to come for a walk with me?
”

“
Oh, please!
”

The light which flashed into her eyes was indescribably gratifying, and, before his aunt could demur in any way, he said,

“
You talk things over with Mrs. Preston, Aunt Mary. Anya and I will try to finish the evening without further drama.
”

“
Very well. But don
’
t keep her out late.
”

“
I won
’
t,
”
David promised, while Anya looked surprised that anyone should be concerned about her goings and comings or, indeed, her welfare in any form.

As they left the hotel together, he had the curious feeling that they made some sort of escape. He was aware then that there had been a degree of strain about sharing her with other people. At any rate, with the people who made up his own conventional world. Now there were just the two of them again, and everything was inexplicably simpler.

By common impulse, they turned away from the town and began to follow the winding path which led to the top of the hill where they had first met. For most of the time they walked in silence, and, when they did speak, it was only to make some comment on the scene around them. But it was not a strained silence, and neither seemed to feel the necessity for conversation.

Only when they came out at last into the open space where he had first seen her did she turn and look down on the town, very much as she had the first time.

“
Well, here we are—back at our first meeting place,
”
he said, and he tried to make his tone light and casual
.

“
Yes.
”
Her tone was thoughtful and not at all casual.
“
Here is where it all began.
”

“
All, Anya?
”
he queried a little teasingly. But she did not echo his lighter mood even then.

“
My knowing you,
”
she explained seriously.
“
And my father dying—and the meeting with the poor lady down there in the hotel who lost her son.
”
She stopped, frowned consideringly, and then said,
“
Tell me—what did she mean when she said I must be
his
?”

David, who was not over-anxious to do more explaining just then, looked nonplussed.

“
That
’
s another story, Anya. Suppose we leave it for tonight, shall we?
”

She did not answer that at once. Instead, she looked away from him across the town, and he was certain she was seeking the roof of the barracks, indistinct now in the twilight, but still perhaps representing some sort of reassuring familiarity for her.