‘And so Julian is going to live in England after all?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘My goodness!’ said Audrey, that being her chief exclamation of the moment. ‘Won’t Rosalie be sold!’
‘Audrey!’ Alison said rather faintly, but it failed to stem Audrey’s half-shocked jubilation.
‘Why, she only threw him over because she didn’t want to leave England. She’ll chew her finger-ends off when she hears.’
‘That will do.’ Alison spoke sternly enough to suppress even Audrey. ‘Your sister has nothing to do with this. She’s -she’s happily engaged to Rodney Myrton and it can’t matter to her whether Julian and I live in London or in Buenos Aires. Now go along to bed, or I shall be really angry with you.’
Audrey retreated then, but the last thing Alison heard was a scornful mutter of ‘Happily engaged!’
It frightened her terribly to have Audrey putting her own fears into words.
Was it really true that Rosalie had only thrown Julian over because she couldn’t face living abroad? It couldn’t be the only reason, of course. There must have been some sort of a quarrel, too. But probably that was at the back of it.
Alison pressed her hands against her eyes with a weary little gesture.
It was no good tormenting herself with doubts now. As Julian had said, for good or bad they had made their decision. They would have to stand by it.
It was quite late when Alison woke up, and the pale sunshine of a cold October day was struggling into the room.
Then she realised that Prentiss, her aunt’s maid, was standing beside the bed, holding a breakfast tray, her usually rather frost-bitten expression warmed by a smile.
‘Why, Prentiss, how kind of you.’ Alison leaned up on her elbow and smiled in return.
‘Madam said you were to have your breakfast in bed, miss and then to stay quiet until it’s time for you to dress. I’ll come and see to everything. Help you dress and fix your hair and everything.’
‘Oh. thank you very much,’ Alison said, a little nonplussed at this unwonted attention, and she watched with some amusement while Prentiss went over and pulled the curtains aside.
But as she ate her breakfast she became very serious again.
This morning she was to marry Julian.
It might be a strange marriage It might be scarcely a marriage at all in some senses of the word. But the fact remained. she was to be Julian’s wife; to have some significance in his life unshared by any other woman.
She lay back again, feeling curiously awed and humble.
‘I’ll be good to you, Julian,’ she thought very tenderly. ‘You haven’t found people very kind, but I’ll try never to hurt you as the others have.’
She didn’t name Rosalie even in her own thoughts, because she had an idea that she didn’t want to have any feelings of bitterness and resentment just now. But; in some indefinable way, she felt that it was for her to bridge the gap that had been torn in Julian’s happiness and affections.
It was that thought which kept her very quiet and serious while she was dressing-all the time Prentiss was brushing her shining hair and fastening her into the wedding-dress.
Her aunt came in just as the yards of rosy tulle veil were being adjusted.
‘Yes, very nice,’ she said, inspecting Alison critically. ‘No, no, Prentiss-a little further forward on her head. That’s better. Now don’t forget to hold your head up, Alison, when you are coming out, You can look down and be as shy as you like when you come in. It isn’t important then. But raise your head when you are coming out of the church. Otherwise it doesn’t give the Press photographers a chance, and you’ll look as though you have a double chin.’
‘Very well, Aunt Lydia,’ Alison promised meekly. It amused her a little that, when it came to the point, her aunt had been quite unable to keep up her apparent lack of interest in anything which appealed to her so strongly as a social show.
‘I wish she’d go,’ Alison thought. ‘She makes it all seem so cheap and-and worldly.’
Then she suddenly remembered about the cablegram from Buenos Aires.
‘Oh, Aunt Lydia -’
‘I can’t wait now,’ her aunt said. ‘It’s time I went. If the first arrivals are late it means the whole thing is disorganised. Good-bye, child. Try to make yourself heard, though that isn’t so very important, really. And don’t forget about looking up.’
Aunt Lydia went out, closing the door behind her. Oh, well, it couldn’t be helped. Explanations would have to come after the ceremony.
Alison stood where she was, facing her own reflection in the glass. But she scarcely took in what she saw there. She was listening to the sounds of departure downstairs.
And then a servant knocked on the door.
Mr. Leadburn wanted to know if Miss Alison was ready. It was time they were going.
Alison picked up her great sheaf of deep pink roses, and glanced round her unpretentious little bedroom.
Next time she saw it she would be Alison Tyndrum- Julian’s wife.
Uncle Theodore was waiting in the hall, and he smiled as she came slowly down the stairs.
‘Dear me,’ he observed approvingly, ‘Julian certainly has a very pretty bride.’
‘Thank you, Uncle.’ Alison smiled in return and took his arm affectionately. She was glad it was her uncle with whom she had to go, for his kindly but matter-of-fact air steadied her.
She glanced shyly and a little incredulously at the group of sight-seers as she went out to the car. It was first and last time in her life that she was likely to attract a crowd, she thought with faint amusement.
And then she was driving through the streets beside Uncle Theodore, with the strange, dreamlike knowledge that, somewhere at the end of this journey, Julian was waiting to make her his wife.
‘Feeling nervous?’ Her uncle patted her hand.
‘No, not very,’ Alison said, and it was true. She was not trembling any more, and her heart was beating calmly and regularly again. Only her breathing was shallow and rapid. But that was really more excitement than nervousness.
‘Well, I expect you will have a pretty full programme from now on until you leave.’
That reminded her.
‘Oh, Uncle Theodore, we aren’t going to Buenos Aires after all. There was a cable for Julian last night, postponing our flight indefinitely.’
‘Really?’ Alison wondered if she imagined that her usually immovable uncle looked disturbed. ‘Do you mean you’ll be living here in London?’
‘I suppose so.’
He was silent for a moment, and then said, ‘Well, personally, I’m glad you’re not going to the other side of the world. How do you feel about it yourselves?’
‘I’m afraid Julian is very disappointed,’ she said carefully.
‘And you?’
‘Oh, I-she drew a quick breath-’I don’t really care where I am, so long as Julian is there too.’
‘Ah!’ Her uncle gave a satisfied laugh.
She thought he was going to say something too, but just then the car drew up outside the church, and there was no opportunity.
Organ music was coming from just beyond that doorway, and the indescribable rustle of people moving and whispering.
She took her uncle’s arm and moved slowly forward. Nobody seemed specially distinct-just a vague blur of faces on either side-people who had meant nothing at all in her life, and would mean nothing again. They were just there for her wedding-she didn’t quite know why, except that Aunt Lydia had somehow conjured them there.
Why, there was Jennifer, smiling slightly and looking a miracle of style and smartness. Simon would be with Julian, but she wouldn’t look there yet.
There was Aunt Lydia, right in front, turning her head as far as decorum permitted, to see that her stage-managing had not failed in any particular, while Theo gazed openly- but mostly at Audrey.