Dark Hills Rising Page 9

  A short while after his return Andrew sought Gail out in the nursery where she was tidying up the cup-boards, having already sorted out the games which the children had got mixed up, and putting them in their appropriate boxes. 'Who's the man you've had up here?' he demanded wrathfully, startling her into speechlessness for a moment. She knew from where his information had come, but she said slowly,

  'You've been speaking to Sinclair?'

  'I've been speaking to Morag,' he rapped out, while at the same time frowning at her question. She did not answer at once but looked up at him, recalling her determination to put things right between them by telling him the reason for her refusal to wear a dress of his liking. But as she took in the attitude of cold mastery and accusation all her good intentions fled and the angry colour mounted her cheeks.

  'Perhaps,' she invited, for the moment retaining her control, 'you'll tell me exactly what she said?' He hesitated and she became a trifle breathless. Had he continued to show reluctance Gail would undoubtedly have phrased a satisfactory explanation, but he said furiously at last, 'She said you were out walking with him on Sunday afternoon 'With the children? Did she tell you the children were with me?' He nodded, his mouth tight, and she went on, 'He came to my assistance when I had a puncture'

  'Puncture? How convenient!' His voice snapped, ice-edged. Gail's temper lodged in her throat, suffocatingly.

  'The next time I saw him,' she continued with admirable calm, 'was on coming out of church. He asked me about a permit to fish in the loch here.'

  'He did?--on so brief an acquaintanceship?' She did not speak and he went on, 'You gave him permission to fish in the loch?' Again that icy edge to his voice, but the rein on her temper was firm-as yet.

  'I referred him to Sinclair-a course which, I believe, was the correct one to take.' A movement in Andrew's throat was the only sign of emotion now as he said, very softly,

  'Be careful, Gail. Remember whom you are speaking to.' Automatically she lowered her head and he went on to say, 'Did Sinclair give your friend permission to fish in the loch?'

  'My friend? He gave Mr. Sheldon permission to fish. .That's why we were walking with him; the children wanted to and I agreed.'

  'The children?' he repeated, raising his brows. Lifting her head, she looked squarely at him. 'Yes, Andrew, the children.'

  Hard eyes roved over her; she wondered if he were thinking about his late wife and, as Morag had mentioned, feeling history was repeating itself.

  'I'll see Sinclair. This man won't come here again. And you will not speak to him again, understand?'

  Unleashed at last, her temper flared. 'I do not understand! Morag has her own ideas about my relationship with Robin- with Mr. Sheldon,' she amended as his face darkened. 'And she appears to have conveyed those ideas to you. If you like to believe her then do so by all means, I have no control over your suspicions. But as for not speaking to Mr. Sheldon-I'll please myself! What would you have me do--gut him dead the next time we meet? Is that what you mean?' 'That's exactly what I mean.'

  'Then you're in for a disappointment! My good manners won't allow me to treat him in so ungracious a way!' He advanced upon her, tall and masculine, with dark fury in his eyes. Gail stepped back, pale now and trembling, a hand unconsciously going to her head. The scar had swelled above her throbbing temple. The wall stopped further backward progress and Andrew came threateningly close.

  'I'm in for a disappointment, am I?' His voice was dangerously low as he added, 'Should I be disappointed, Gail, then believe me you'll be exceedingly sorry for yourself! '

  Her heart raced painfully-fear, to her surprise, rising above her temper. For there was a ruthlessness about him she had never seen before. It was as if all the savagery of a bygone age were depicted in his features, giving them a cruel, almost satanic appearance.

  Was he threatening her with violence? She wondered.

  'We'll wait and see whether or not I'm to be sorry for myself,' she managed to say quietly at last. 'You intend to defy me?'

  'I intend to treat Mr. Sheldon in the way good manners demand.'

  'You'll not speak to him again!' he thundered, white lines appearing at the sides of his mouth. 'I'm ordering you to ignore him, no matter in what circumstances you happen to meet!' Her legs felt weak, and every nerve in her body fluttered. Unbridled fury such as this she had never visualized when with such sublime optimism she had consented to marry him. Heather had disliked him, prophesying that Gail would be making a hash of her life. What would Heather think should she ever witness a scene like this? Gail's eyes pricked, yet frightened as she now was she refused to capitulate, knowing full well she could never treat Robin in the way Andrew had just ordered her to do.

  'Andrew ... I can't cut him, f-for no reason at all-' The rest died on her lips as her husband reached out and, taking a vicious hold on her arms, shook her till the tears started to her eyes. But suddenly he paused, his hands sliding down her arms, stopping only when they reached her wrists, where they remained, as he stared at her, his blue eyes fixed and disbelieving.

  'That scar,' he said at last, as if the words were dragged from him. 'How did you get it?'

  She shook her head, drained and weak and wishing in her moment of abject misery that she had never set eyes on him.

  'It was-it was ' pulling herself free, she put her hands to her face and wept.

  'Gail-- ' He sounded stunned, and contrite, and gentle all at once. 'My dear, don't cry. I'm sorry I hurt you....' And before either of them realized what was happening she was in his arms and she felt his lips touching the scar she had tried so hard to conceal from him. 'Tell me about it,' he encouraged softly. 'What happened?'

  But all Gail could do for the moment was lift her head from his chest and stare, wide-eyed and breathless, as she tried to assimilate this sudden change in him. He was looking at the scar; it was pulsating and livid because of the emotional disturbance through which she had just passed.

  'I was in a car crash,' she whispered presently. 'I have another, much more unsightly, scar on my shoulder-'

  'Your shoulder?' sharply, as a paleness touched his mouth, but for an altogether different reason this time. 'That was why you wouldn't-?' He stopped, because she was already nodding her head. 'Gail, you silly girl. Why didn't you tell me?'

  She remembered once again Morag's words about his not tolerating anything inferior and knew she couldn't tell him about the other scars on her body. Later, perhaps-although it wasn't necessary because he would never see them

  Never? Why had her heart leapt just then? Why, for that matter, was he holding her like this, and looking at her with softened eyes, touching her with hands so gentle that she could scarcely believe in the hurt they had so recently inflicted? 'I wanted to, but I expect it was just stubbornness on my part-afterwards, that was,' she went on to explain, though not very effectively because he said, 'Afterwards?' and looked questioningly at her.

  'At first I didn't want you to know about my scars,' she confessed, and bent her head, confused, as he looked at her with an odd expression.

  'You didn't want me to know? But why?' She would not repeat what Morag had said, naturally. I had an idea you disliked anything inferior.'

  'And you considered yourself inferior?' Andrew gave her no opportunity of answering that as he went on to chide her, but in a very different way from his former harsh and dominating manner of approach. 'What gave you the idea I disliked anything inferior?' he queried as an afterthought.

  'One gets-impressions,' was all she said, and to her relief he pursued the matter no further, merely shaking his head in a bewildered sort of way as if unable to understand why she should have reached a conclusion like that. She dried her cheeks and smiled, calmed now by his gentleness and the way he had passed over the matter of her disfigurement as if it was of no account. To think she had worried and fretted, wishing so many times recently that she had entered hospital long ago and had something done about those scars. It was over two years, she recalled, sin
ce the doctor had first told her she need no longer carry her disfigurements.

  'Can I tell you about Robin?' she ventured after a while, not only because she felt he was in a receptive mood but also because the nearness of him was soothing and pleasant and she had no wish to move away. He had held her close a moment ago, and touched her temple with his lips ... and Gail wished she knew of a way of making him do the same again.

  'Yes,' he returned in the same soft and gentle tones. 'Come and sit down on the couch and tell me every-thing.' It was in fact little different from what she had already told him, but in his new and tolerant mood of patience and understanding he saw the whole situation as it really was and not through the distorted vision of anger and mistrust.

  'I'm sorry, Gail,' he said at last. 'My only excuse is that He stopped, his eyes brooding and dark. 'I can't speak of it, but there was an excuse, believe me.' He smiled at her and her pulse fluttered. How changed his expression ... how attractive he was!

  The incident brought them closer, one aspect of the change in Andrew being that he invariably joined Gail and the children for tea in the afternoons. It was always a cosy, intimate situation and one to which they all looked forward. The Sunday afternoon walks continued and on the odd occasion, when he wasn't too busy, Andrew would accompany Gail when she went to pick up the children from school. Gail and Andrew began visiting in the evenings; she knew that remarks were passed in her favour and that Andrew's friends were relieved that at last some happiness had been brought into his life. They themselves gave dinner parties in the great tapestry-hung dining-room which would glitter with silver and cut- glass and the jewels worn by the ladies. But of course Morag was still to be reckoned with-being a barrier to Andrew's peace of mind and as great an annoyance to Gail as she could possibly make herself. A bitter quarrel between Morag and Andrew would always mean the return of his black mood. Gail would speculate on his thoughts at these times, wondering if he suspected Morag was not his, and if so, whether he was fiercely resentful that she should be plaguing him like this. But he seemed all the while to be drawing closer to Gail and to be deriving comfort from her. A sign of the new relationship developing between them was the way in which he would discuss Morag with his wife.

  'I'm thinking of sending her to boarding school,' he mentioned one day when he and Gail were alone in the snug. He omitted to mention the two previous expulsions and Gail naturally made no attempt to inform him of what she had overheard.

  'You have a school in mind?' she asked cautiously.

  'There are two-one near Edinburgh and one in England. I'll write to them both.' The one in Edinburgh would not take Morag, the Principal no doubt having a knowledge of the girl's record. There being no such bar with the school in England it was arranged that Morag should start in September. Whether or not she would go was a matter for conjecture, and if she did consent to go, whether or not she would stay remained to be seen. It would be heaven without her, Gail had to admit, often recalling her own optimism about being able to do something for Morag. She had failed, very early admitting that nothing could be done for the girl. She had had her sixteenth birthday recently; Gail bought her a silver brush and comb set for her dressing table, having ascertained by subtle questioning that she hadn't one, a circumstance that surprised Gail but made her choice of a present much easier. Gail also made Robbie and Shena buy presents for their sister. All of these Gail showed to Andrew, having overheard him telling Morag she would receive nothing from him.

  'What are you giving her?' Gail tentatively asked, hoping to force him into buying a present for Morag.

  'I've told her she's getting nothing.' He obligingly examined the presents, his eyes glinting angrily as he looked at the brush and comb set, but it wasn't until she presented her gift that Gail learned the reason for this.

  'I'd have found more use for cigarettes,' said Morag ungratefully on opening the parcel. 'However, I can sell this, as I sold the other. Thanks, anyway.'

  'You've sold one?'

  'Father gave me a set when he was in one of his generous moods-an antique thing that had been in the family for generations. Then he became so stingy with money that I had to sell it.' Despite her anger at Morag's reception of her gift Gail could not help pitying her, for she was missing so much in life. Could she be wholly blamed for what she was? The world of nature was largely cut and dried. To a certain degree one was capable of shaping one's own character, it was true, because instinctively one was able to differentiate between right and wrong, but many characteristics were inherent, determined by those often troublesome little things called genes. They were the basic units of heredity and, therefore, largely responsible for a person's character and appearance.

  Normally a man passed much of what was in himself on to his female offspring, but there was nothing of Andrew in Morag ... nothing at all. And that was why Gail pitied her. If Andrew was not her father then the loss was hers. At the beginning of July she went off again to visit friends, leaving a note for Andrew saying she would be away three weeks. There was no address, no indication as to whether she had any money-although Gail felt she could not have much and, therefore, could not have gone abroad. To Gail's surprise Andrew appeared disinterested, his only sign of temper being the tearing across of the note and the tossing of it into the waste-paper basket.

  Shortly after that Robin came; Gail had seen him only twice since that unhappy scene with Andrew and now she looked anxiously at her host arid, fearing he would be in an unapproachable mood after having received the note Morag had left him. But he received Robin cordially enough, giving him permission to fish, and much later Gail saw them talking together by Robin's car, just before the young man went home.

  A few days after Morag's departure Andrew asked Gail if she would like Heather and Roger to come for a holiday. The suggestion came as a complete surprise and Gail was naturally delighted. But, aware of her sister's dislike of Andrew, and remembering that she had once refused a similar invitation, she did have slight misgivings as she wrote the invitation. From the first, letters had passed between them, with Heather always putting anxious questions and Gail sending reassuring replies. She was perfectly happy, she had always maintained, feeling no compunction at the white lies, designed as they were to relieve Heather of unnecessary anxiety. Beth had also put questions, though more tentatively and not as often. It was not because she loved Gail less than Heather did, but be-cause, having met Andrew for the first time at the wedding, and on that occasion only briefly, she had not had the opportunity of forming an impression of her brother-in-law.

  'Could Beth and her family come later?' Gail had asked, and immediately Andrew had suggested they all come together. 'It would be a nice family reunion for you,' he smiled, but Gail had wondered if it would he too much for the servants. 'There would be four extra children,' she ended, but again her husband only smiled.

  'The servants can manage,' he said, and to Gail's delight both her sisters accepted the invitations and they all arrived together in two cars. Thomas and Marilyn already knew Andrew's children and immediately rushed off with them to the swings. Simon and Manda stayed shyly by their parents, looking up at the trophies with awe and wonderment in their eyes. Gail called to Robbie, who came at once. 'This is Simon and Manda,' she said. 'They also want to play.'

  'Come on, then,' said Robert in a hurry. 'I'll race you to the swings!' Two maids had appeared to take the luggage upstairs, but Gail herself led the way, showing Beth her room first, with the children's rooms just across the passage. 'I'll see you downstairs,' she said, and then took Heather along to three similar rooms.

  'What happened to the men?' Heather wanted to know.

  'They've gone to have a drink.' Gail turned. 'Leave the cases there, please, Dora. I'll help my sister to unpack.' The girl put down the suitcases and left the room.

  'Still the same,' commented Heather a trifle disparagingly. 'Andrew prefers men's company.'

  'He did ask you and Beth to join them when you were ready,' retur
ned Gail with unaccustomed crispness. 'But you were so busy talking to me you didn't hear him.' Heather looked strangely at her, examining her face.

  'Touchy, aren't we?' she said, though with a hint of amusement. 'You're not falling in love with that brute, I hope.'

  'Do you like your rooms?' inquired Gail, putting one of the suitcases on a chair and opening the lid.

  'Avoiding the question, eh? Yes, they're magnificent -and the view from here! Those mountains and moors! And that blue sky! I thought it always rained in Scotland.'

  'So did I. But this year's been exceptional. We've had no snow at all-only on the high mountains further north, and on a few here. Ben-y-Gloe had snow on it until about a month ago.'

  'Which is Ben-y-Gloe?'

  'That one-between those other two. It's also called the Mountain of the Mist.'

  'Well, there's no mist on it now. I think we're going to have marvellous weather. I'm glad you asked us to come, Gail.'

  'I'm glad you came. I had a feeling you might refuse.'

  'Not this time, because you're here.' She looked round. 'You certainly married money-which is some compensation for what you're missing,' she added bluntly. Gail made no comment on that and Heather added, eyeing her curiously, 'Morag....? You're always so evasive over my questions. I'm dying to meet her.'

  'You won't; she's away visiting friends.

  Shall I un-pack this case for you?' Heather nodded and said, 'Away visiting friends?' She paused. 'On one of her escapades, you mean?'

  'I expect so,' shrugged Gail, and again changed the subject. 'We're having a barbecue on Thursday-if the weather stays like this.'

  Heather looked perceptively at her, but was not to be put off. '

  'I expect you arranged this visit because she was away?'

  'Andrew made the suggestion,' she returned noncommittally, but Heather merely smiled.

  'Does she give you a bad time? I mean- she must resent you?'

  'We do have our clashes,' admitted Gail.