Unwary Heart Read online

  UNWARY HEART

  Anne Hampson

  For her family’s sake, Muriel had to find a rich husband—and she fixed on Andrew Burke as the ‘lucky man’.

  But Andrew was one jump ahead of her—or was he?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Muriel Paterson met Andrew Burke less than four hours after the ship had left Southampton Docks, and that, she wrote and told her beautiful and sophisticated cousin, Christine, was the greatest piece of luck that had ever come her way. For Muriel’s one ambition was to find a rich husband, and Andrew Burke was rich beyond her wildest dreams.

  Of course, the opportunity would never have arisen if Aunt Edith, disappointed at the last moment by the friend who was to have accompanied her on the cruise, had not invited Muriel to take her place.

  Aunt Edith was wealthy; she was also very mean, and therefore her offer had caused quite a stir in the Paterson household.

  ‘It seems like providence,’ said Mrs. Paterson on recovering from her surprise. ‘This is the chance you’ve been waiting for, Muriel. Make the most of it, my dear, for you may never have another. Remember what I’ve told you—don’t ruin your life as I did. When it comes to such an important business as marriage the head must rule the heart.’

  For years this had been drilled into Muriel, but, being of a romantic disposition, she had secretly cherished other ideas concerning marriage ... until the last few months.

  Her sister, Hilda—Dil as she was called by the family—had been married a mere six months, yet she and her husband quarrelled even more frequently than her parents.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Mrs. Paterson would say with boring reiteration. ‘There’s no happiness without money. I can only hope Muriel will have more sense than either of us.’ And the last of Muriel’s illusions was shattered the day Dil and Fred quarrelled over the baby.

  ‘To quarrel over a baby! Oh, it’s dreadful! You should both be so happy,’ she told her sister who, white with anger, was hurling bitter imputations at her equally wrathful husband. Muriel’s voice had been agonized and pleading as she tried to bring peace between them, but for all the notice they took of her she might have been dumb.

  ‘If this hadn’t happened I could have kept on with my work and we’d soon have saved up for a house of our own. Now, I suppose, we’ll have to live with Mum and Dad for ever!’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Dil—Fred—You used to be so happy.’ Muriel glanced imploringly from one to the other. ‘You were so in love—don’t spoil it.’

  ‘Love!’ scoffed Dil. ‘There’s no such thing!’

  Dil had ended up in tears and Muriel, unable to bear it any longer, fled to her room. Her sister was right; there was no such thing as love. She recalled that all her parents’ disagreements were over the question of money. Money must be the all-important thing, for where there was lack of it even babies were not wanted. If she had money, thought Muriel, staring down at the grey, drab street below, she could help them to buy a house. She could also make sure her young brother realized his ambition, and she could buy her father a new van.

  And so she had taken her mother’s advice and paid a visit to her cousin, her worldly cousin who had once said,

  ‘That face can buy you a rich husband, Muriel. You’ll be a fool if you don’t exploit your looks.’ Christine had been delighted, and very optimistic. ‘You may not meet enormously wealthy people on a short cruise like that,’ she warned. ‘But you will meet people who are much better off than you. The old girl’s booked first, I suppose? She’s a miserable skinflint at home, but she does like comfort when she’s away.’

  ‘We’re going first class, yes.’ Muriel paused. ‘Aunt Edith has met very wealthy people on her cruises; people who are even as rich as she. Once she received a Christmas card from a real lord she’d met on a cruise.’

  ‘Real lords aren’t always wealthy.’ Christine smiled faintly at her cousin’s surprise. ‘So watch your step. And now for the tips you want, darling. First, you must have glamour, and plenty of it. Just look what glamour’s done for me.’ It had brought her four proposals of marriage in as many months, she went on to inform her cousin proudly, and added,

  ‘But I want money and love. You, of course, can’t afford to be so particular—you haven’t a father who’s the richest man in Barston.’

  They went up to Christine’s lovely bedroom; the dressing-table was littered with bottles and jars ... The ‘groom’ course had begun.

  Christine showed her how to use cosmetics to the best advantage, how to do her hair and, in a sudden burst of generosity, gave her two evening gowns which, so she said, would do the trick. The dresses, although unmistakably expensive, were incredibly low-cut, and they seemed garish beside the demure little creation Muriel’s father had recently bought for her nineteenth birthday. Muriel suppressed a shudder; they must be all right if Christine wore them. ‘I’m old-fashioned,’ she thought, and gave her whole attention to what her cousin was saying.

  ‘Men always become romantic in the evenings—and by the way, don’t, for heaven’s sake, mention that you serve in your father’s greengrocer’s shop.’

  ‘But if I do meet someone he’ll be bound to find out.’

  ‘Later, yes, but it won’t matter once he’s fallen in love with you. No, darling, do try to hide your poverty.’

  ‘But I can’t say I’m rich, Christine.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to,’ she returned impatiently. ‘Simply try to hide the fact that you’re so poor, that’s all. My clothes will help.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Muriel, beginning to feel some anxiety about the success of her scheme.

  She listened attentively to the voice of experience, making mental notes of all she must and must not do. Christine lent her an evening wrap, sportswear and dresses which all seemed far too loud and daring.

  ‘You can have this perfume—this for the daytime, and this for the evening. You’ll be surprised what perfume can do,’ Christine told her, a knowing look in her eyes. ‘It just goes to a man’s head.’

  Trying on one of the evening gowns, Muriel gasped at her reflection as she stood before the mirror.

  ‘It doesn’t look like me at all.’ She shuddered. ‘If I marry a rich man will I have to look like this all the time?—and have all this horrid stuff on my face?’

  ‘You will become so used to it you’ll feel undressed without it,’ laughed Christine, glancing at her cousin in admiration.

  ‘I don’t think I could stand it,’ protested Muriel, almost ready now to drop the whole idea.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Christine’s voice was sharp. ‘Rich men want glamour, I’ve proved it. That little girl look of yours is quite out of date, and so is your naive manner of speaking. You must try to copy me—be worldly, confident, and remember that you’re very beautiful.’

  Muriel wrinkled her nose; she felt sticky and her mouth looked too big. As for her hair! It certainly made her appear sophisticated, piled on top of her head like that, but to Muriel’s critical gaze it looked ridiculous. Tentatively she mentioned this to her admiring cousin.

  ‘Nonsense, Muriel. You’re far too old-fashioned.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Muriel sighed and glanced again at her reflection. The word ‘wanton’ seemed to be splashed across the mirror, and she had to smile to herself. Christine dressed like this, and she never looked a wanton.

  ‘You must learn to make play with your eyes; men fall for that—they’re too stupid to know what you’re about. No, don’t walk like that—like this ... no, darling, your hair won’t fall down. Leave it alone ... don’t wrinkle your forehead, it makes you look childish...’ And so it had continued until Christine was perfectly satisfied. ‘Now it’s up to you, and the best of luck. Go all out to get you
r man.’

  ‘Y—yes,’ returned Muriel vaguely.

  ‘And don’t forget to write to let me know how things are going.’

  To Christine’s disgust Muriel insisted on letting her hair down and washing her face before going home.

  ‘Your mother wouldn’t have known you,’ Christine said.

  No, and neither would her father, thought Muriel, trembling at the very idea of his seeing her with so much heavy make-up on her face.

  Her aunt had invited her to stay the night, but knowing her father could not put up the orders alone in the morning, she refused.

  ‘The first bus from here isn’t until nine,’ she said, ‘and Daddy has to be out by then.’

  ‘How will he manage while you’re away?’ her aunt inquired, without much interest.

  ‘Mother’s going to the shop every day.’

  ‘She won’t like that,’ her aunt returned grimly.

  ‘The round is the worst job,’ Muriel retorted and, after a slight hesitation, ‘but if I do find a rich husband—’ how dreadful that sounded!—‘I shall buy him a new van. The one we have now is so old that it keeps on letting him down.’

  ‘You still have that old contraption he bought at first?’

  ‘We can’t afford another; they’re so terribly dear.’ ‘I’d hate to be so poor,’ interposed Christine with a shudder as she watched her mother pouring tea from an exquisite Georgian silver teapot. ‘It must be awful for Aunt Emily after what she was used to as a girl.’

  ‘Entirely her own fault; she wouldn’t listen to advice. There were four sisters of us and she was the only one to marry beneath her. I’m relieved to find you don’t intend to spoil your life, Muriel.’

  ‘I love my father,’ she flashed, ‘and I won’t have him spoken of in that disparaging manner! The trouble is, only I understand him. He’s so gentle and kind, and he sacrifices himself for us all the time.’

  ‘My dear, I admire your loyalty, but I still say your mother ought never to have married him. Just think what a difference it would have made to you children if she’d married someone of her own class—oh, I know he managed to let you and Dil stay on at school, but what good has it done you? And although Derek is safely at the grammar school I doubt very much if your father will afford to let him go on to university. When he’s sixteen he’ll probably have to leave school and find work.’

  ‘He won’t.’ Muriel’s hands clasped under the table. ‘He wants to go in for law.’

  Aunt Sarah shook her head.

  ‘What he wants and what your father will be able to afford are two different things. You say your father is not in the best of health, so it’s more than likely that Derek will have to go into the shop, unless,’ she added significantly, ‘you happen to be in a position to help.’

  Muriel flushed. So much depended on her, and the success of the forthcoming trip. And yet she suddenly faltered. Could she change her whole personality?—put aside for ever all that had so endeared her to her father?

  Watching her niece across the table, Aunt Sarah thought she had never seen a lovelier girl. Of medium height, Muriel was slender and graceful with grey green eyes and chestnut hair. Nature had deftly blended delicacy with character to create a face of unusual beauty. The girl would be a fool not to exploit those looks to the full.

  ‘I sincerely hope I shall be in that position,’ said Muriel with grim resolve.

  And so it was the mercenary, sophisticated Muriel Paterson who boarded the Appenia one week later.

  Her aunt went straight to her cabin; Muriel, to whom every small incident was a novelty, stayed by the rail until the ship was clear of the docks. Then she made her way to the main stairs. Descending them, she became confused, but one of the ship’s officers made a timely appearance and within a few minutes she was in her aunt’s cabin.

  The old lady was lying on the bed.

  ‘Go away,’ she snapped irritably. ‘I’m about to be frightfully ill.’

  ‘We’ve only just sailed.’ Muriel looked at her blankly. ‘How do you know you’re going to be ill?’

  ‘Because I’m always ill for the first couple of days,’ she grumbled. ‘It’s such a waste when I can’t take the meals.’

  Muriel had to smile; Aunt Edith hated waste of any kind.

  ‘Shall I come back later?’

  ‘You can if you like, but I warn you, I’m not a pretty sight when I’m ill.’

  Muriel’s cabin, although first class, had no verandah like her aunt’s, but it did have a private bath, and within half an hour she was sitting before the mirror surveying herself with relief, and grimacing at the recollection of the shock she had given her aunt. But she dismissed it from her mind, refusing to dwell on those scathing and denunciatory remarks.

  All the same, it was a pity rich men had to have glamour, she thought, picking up a comb and running it through her hair. Again she faltered, then before her rose the vision of her father. How pale and tired he had begun to look, and what an effort it was these days for him to lift the heavy sacks of vegetables and boxes of fruit. And he always seemed so fatigued when he returned from the round ... Muriel’s lips set in a grim, determined line and she proceeded to apply her ‘glamour’ according to her cousin’s instructions.

  Just before dinner she returned to her aunt’s cabin; the old lady was still lying on the bed looking exceedingly sorry for herself.

  ‘Aren’t you coming to dinner?’ Muriel began hesitantly.

  ‘Do I look as though I could eat dinner!’ She did seem rather pasty, Muriel realized, but she refrained from saying so. ‘If I could eat my dinner you can be sure I’d do so—What on earth have you got on?’ She sat bolt upright and propped a pillow behind her lace-capped head. ‘I’d never have brought you if I’d known you were going to get yourself up like this. That dress is positively indecent! Strapless, do they call them? More like topless, I should say!’

  ‘Everyone wears low-cut dresses these days,’ Muriel protested, though she did go slightly red.

  ‘Well, they don’t suit you. And if you think that stuff improves your face then you’re a fool! And that hair—rich husband, indeed! You’re enough to frighten any man away, any decent man, that is. But I don’t suppose you care so long as he’s got money. Who put this idea into your head, anyway? Sit down and tell me!’

  Muriel sat down meekly—one always felt meek in Aunt Edith’s presence—and told her about Fred and Dil, saying she was sure they would not quarrel so if only they had a house of their own. She hadn’t got far, however, when her aunt interrupted her.

  ‘They must be happy; they’ve only been married a few months.’

  ‘They are not, Aunt Edith; they quarrel shockingly. It always starts over the baby now—’

  ‘Baby? What baby?’

  ‘Dil’s baby—she hasn’t got it yet,’ she added hastily. ‘But she blames Fred for it. You see, if she wasn’t having it she’d still be working and then they could save up for a house.’

  ‘I don’t see how all this concerns you.’

  ‘My family’s happiness does concern me,’ she said quietly.

  ‘So you’ve decided to marry for money? Bosh! When you marry, my girl, it will be for love! You’re made that way.’

  ‘I thought so once,’ Muriel confessed wistfully. ‘But I’ve changed now. Look what good I could do if I had money. I could put everything right at home, and I might be able to put the deposit down for a house for Dil and Fred.’

  ‘Why should you?’ her aunt retorted. ‘If Dil’s made a mess of her life that’s no reason why you should make a mess of yours in order to get her out of it.’

  ‘There is Derek—’

  Her aunt regarded her shrewdly.

  ‘I suppose your mother thinks I could help?’ Muriel flushed. Her family never had a good word for Aunt Edith, but Muriel could see her point of view. She had a daughter married to an American who was now living in Boston. She had three sons, and it was only natural that Aunt Edith should think of their fu
ture first. ‘Well, I, don’t intend to,’ the old lady went on. ‘Your mother’s a bad manager and I’m not giving her money to waste. She has a fine man and doesn’t appreciate him.’

  Muriel warmed to her; she was the only one of her relations who ever had a good word for her father. After a little while she rose, and her aunt, sniffing distastefully, exclaimed,

  ‘What’s that horrible smell?’

  ‘It’s—perfume. Christine gave it to me.’

  ‘Christine? I didn’t think you had anything to do with her!’

  ‘I don’t see her very often, but when I knew I was coming with you I went to see her—she lent me some clothes.’

  ‘I see...’ The old woman regarded her niece sternly and perceptively. ‘So it was she who put you up to this? She gave you all the hints she knew on how to catch a man—’

  ‘Aunt Edith!’

  ‘I know Christine. You’ll do well to keep away from that girl, she’s a minx! I may be stuck away in the country, but I hear things. The latest is that she’s got about half a dozen men dangling on her string. Can’t see that their only interest is her father’s money.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it isn’t that, Aunt Edith,’ Muriel protested. ‘Christine’s very beautiful and talented. Also, she confided to me that she’s no longer interested in men—what I mean is, she doesn’t want them all running after her now, because she’s met the man she intends to marry.’

  ‘She intends to marry? That seems an odd way of putting it.’

  Muriel laughed.

  ‘Well, you see, Aunt Edith, he doesn’t know anything about her falling in love with him because they’ve only met once. He’s a business associate of Uncle Herbert’s, and he’s very rich and handsome,’ she went on with a certain amount of awe. ‘The only thing Christine doesn’t like about him is that he has a very commanding personality, and she thinks he may be rather bossy. Apart from that Christine says he’s absolutely perfect.’

  ‘Rather bossy, eh? That won’t suit my lady Christine at all. I hope she gets him, she needs a master, that one. Always had far too much of her own way. I warned Sarah, but she never took any heed.’