The next afternoon, when Julian was at his office, she went to see Aunt Lydia. Not that she was specially anxious to see her aunt, or, indeed, to go anywhere near the house at all, since the twins would be back at school and her uncle most certainly away or at his office. But Aunt Lydia was bound to expect a visit soon, so she might as well get it over. And perhaps, if she herself went fairly often, it would give Julian a chance to stay away without much comment.
‘Dear me, Alison, you’re looking rather pale. I don’t know that mink is quite the right colour for you,’ was Aunt Lydia ’s characteristic greeting.
‘I don’t feel pale,’ Alison assured her, more amused than annoyed.
‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yes, thank you. Very good.’
‘And now you’re going to settle down in London, instead of going to South America? It’s really rather unfortunate.’
Alison forbore to ask why.
‘What are you going to have-a house or a flat?’ was her aunt’s next question.
‘A flat, I think. We’re going to look at some places to-morrow.’
‘Well, I suppose you know your own mind best, but I must say I always think in a flat you’re so much on top of each other. There’s no chance of getting away.’
Alison didn’t know quite what to say in answer to this novel idea of married life. She supposed her aunt would have been surprised if she had firmly stated that she had no special wish to ‘get away’ from Julian.
‘Where are you now? In an hotel, I suppose?’
‘No. In Julian’s old flat.’
‘But that’s only a tiny place, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it’s very nice.’ For some reason or other, Alison felt angrily on the defensive.
‘I thought there wasn’t much more than a bedroom and a sitting-room.’
‘There isn’t.’
‘How very extraordinary,’ said Aunt Lydia, and stared at her niece with hard, uncompromising violet eyes. ‘Well, I suppose most men are the same when it comes to the point. Almost any girl will do.’
To her extreme annoyance, Alison felt herself go hot all over. For a wild moment she wanted to accuse Aunt Lydia to her face of being a coarse-minded cynic. But, of course, it was quite, quite impossible, and would not, in any case, have been the least good to anybody if she had.
Instead, she asked in a slightly breathless voice how her uncle was.
‘Quite all right, I think. Very busy, I suppose, since I see scarcely anything of him.’
‘And the twins?’
‘They’re back at school, of course.’
Evidently they passed from Aunt Lydia ’s notice and interest entirely as soon as they were out of sight.
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then, with an effort that made her clench her hands, Alison said, ‘Is-is Rosalie still at home?’
‘Oh, yes. She’s out at the moment-fortunately. She isn’t feeling very pleased with you just now, naturally.’
‘Isn’t that rather unfair?’ Alison said in a low voice.
‘Well, my dear, no girl likes to see the man she wants taken by another girl. Especially when there is a little bit of trickery about it.’
‘Aunt Lydia, I won’t have that!’ The colour flamed up in Alison’s face. ‘There was no trickery whatever about it. You know there wasn’t. It’s wicked and mean to say there was.’
Aunt Lydia remained perfectly cool, and smiled in a way which, Alison knew, meant that some particularly illogical statement of the case was coming.
‘I don’t expect you want to face the fact,’ she said with exasperating tolerance, ‘but no one can deny that you took advantage of an ordinary lovers’-tiff, if you like-to snatch at Julian. We all know it was Rosalie he wanted-’ and, I have no doubt, still does.’
‘No!’ Alison gasped that out quickly.
‘Well, my dear, you can take it from me that the Julian type doesn’t change so quickly. He is the most complete example of the one-woman man that I know, and I can’t say I’ve ever seen him give any indication that you were the one woman.’
Alison was wordless.
‘You have only yourself to thank for things being as they are, Alison,’ her aunt said. And then: ‘I suppose you did the proposing?’ she shot at her niece suddenly.
‘I-I-’
‘Well, I see you did. Mind, speaking impersonally,’ said Aunt Lydia, who was incapable of doing so, ‘I don’t exactly blame you. Nobody was likely to ask you, and you had a priceless opportunity of catching an excellent match on the rebound. Only you mustn’t expect Rosalie to feel affectionate about it.’
‘It wasn’t like that-oh, it wasn’t!’ Alison cried desperately, ‘You seem to forget that Rosalie had jilted him. Why shouldn’t he marry me instead?’
‘Because, my dear, he didn’t care a brass farthing about you,’ her aunt said calmly. ‘You know and I know that, given a few days, the whole thing would have blown over.’
‘That isn’t true.’ Alison was white, and she had to press her hand against her throat to keep back thee sobs. ‘Rosalie never loved him. She never wanted to go to Buenos Aires with him.’
‘That was the obstacle, I admit,’ Aunt Lydia said. ‘But it was the only obstacle. And the proof that you appreciated that as well as anyone lies in the fact that you took such precautions to keep quiet about the change of plans until it was too late to do anything.’
‘I didn’t, I didn’t!’ Alison was crying wildly by now. ‘I never thought about it at all. Besides, why should I stand aside for Rosalie at the last minute like that?’
‘Because it isn’t you Julian wants. It’s Rosalie,’ repeated Aunt Lydia drily.
‘No, no, no!’ Alison knew she had been driven from her defences by unfair and illogical arguments, and yet there seemed nothing left now but the futile, reiterated denial that he loved Rosalie.
‘Well, I don’t know that making a scene is going to help anyone now,’ Aunt Lydia remarked with admirable coolness. ‘You had better stop crying, Alison. I think I heard someone come in a moment ago, and it’s probably Rosalie.’
‘Oh, how awful,’ gasped Alison, at this final humiliation. With a tremendous effort, she choked back her sobs, and went over to the window, where she stood staring out and trying hastily to dry her eyes.
She heard the door open, and then Rosalie’s surprised, not very pleased, ‘Hello, Alison.’
There was nothing else for it. She turned to face her cousin.
‘Why, you’ve been crying,’ Rosalie said with uncharitable frankness.
Alison said nothing. There was nothing to say.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I think Alison is a little sorry about some things,’ Aunt Lydia said mildly.
‘I’m not!’ her niece exclaimed furiously.
‘Well then, shall we say-a little disappointed about some things?’ her aunt amended obligingly.
Rosalie gave an unpleasant little laugh.
‘Why? Didn’t the honeymoon come up to expectations?’ she said spitefully. ‘How extraordinary. I’ve always found that Julian makes love charmingly.’
Alison thought suddenly that she would choke if she-stayed a moment longer. She knew it was unpardonable, ridiculous, to say nothing at all. There must be a way of finishing this scene with some semblance of decency, some way of tucking in the ragged ends. But she couldn’t think of any.
She picked up her gloves without a word. She didn’t even speak to her aunt, and blindly she almost pushed past Rosalie and out of the room It was all just like some nightmare. There was no more shape or meaning to the scene than that.
And then she was out in the street once more, the cold air on her face-and the tears too, so that she was ashamed to go where people might see her, and wandered instead among the quiet squares, not knowing at all where she was going.
Then, when it was beginning to grow dark, she went home. She was quite calm by then-only a little pale and sad-eyed. She must never tell Julian a word about that terrible scene with Aunt Lydia and Rosalie. She could scarcely even bear to think of it herself. It was the kind of scene one must just try to forget.