Road to Paradise Island Read online

  "I am going to be bold and ride with you."

  "I hope your business is going satisfactorily."

  "Couldn't be better."

  "You must find it tiresome living in an inn. I expect you are longing for your business to be completed so that you can return to your home."

  "I find the life here very diverting. After all, I have made some delightful acquaintances."

  He brought his horse close to mine and I turned to look at him. He was gazing at me implying that I of course was among those delightful acquaintances. I was glad he could not reach me, for if he had been able to, his hand would be on my arm or my shoulder.

  I said: "I like to gallop at this point." And I shot away. But of course he was pounding along beside me.

  I was forced to slow down because we had come to the road.

  "You must have a quiet house now that your father is on his honeymoon with his new wife," he said.

  "I don't notice it."

  "I thought you might be lonely."

  "Not in the least."

  "You have many friends, I don't doubt."

  "I have enough to occupy me."

  "No more lessons... not now you have lost a governess and gained a stepmother."

  "I am getting a little old for lessons."

  "Quite the young lady. I can see that."

  "I turn off here, Mr. Featherstone."

  "I was going that way."

  "I am returning to the house."

  "That was a short ride."

  I did not answer. I was resisting the impulse to tell him I was going back to escape from him.

  "Now that you are—alone—perhaps we could meet?"

  "Oh, I have a great deal to do."

  "Too busy to see friends?"

  "Oh no. I have time for my friends"

  "Oh, Miss Ann Alice, I was hoping you would count me among them:'

  "You are Miss Gilmour's friend."

  "Miss Gilmour? Oh ... Mrs. Mallory, of course. It was so good of your father to invite me to his house. I expect now that the family friend has become his wife, I shall have more invitations."

  "I daresay my father's wife will decide who is invited now."

  "Then I should be assured of a welcome."

  We had reached the Green. The house stood on the south side of it. I felt annoyed to have had to cut short my ride, but I was determined not to be with him.

  "Well, goodbye, Mr. Featherstone."

  I started to canter across the Green, but he was still beside me.

  "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

  "I am afraid I can't do that... now."

  He looked rueful.

  "Never mind. I shall call when you have more time."

  He took off his hat and gave that ridiculously exaggerated bow which he must have learned in the set of the Prince of Wales of which he implied he was an associate.

  I wish he would go back to London or Brighton or wherever they were and practice his fancy manners on them.

  I came into the house—hot and angry.

  Miss Gilmour—I refuse to call her anything else—had ruined my pleasant existence in every way.

  March 6th Is there no way of escaping that man? He called at the house yesterday. I was out and when I came in he was in the hall. If I had been told I could have sent the maid down to say that I was not at home. But I was caught.

  He said he was thirsty in the hearing of the maid and she glanced questioningly at me so that all I could do was offer him some wine. Then I had to drink with him.

  I took him into the small parlour which leads from the hall and where we entertain casual callers. I wondered how soon I could escape.

  "This is most pleasant," he said.

  I was silent, not being able to utter the blatant lie which even implied agreement would have been.

  "I am so happy I came here," he went on. "It is such a delightful part of the world and London is within easy access."

  "Wouldn't it be more convenient to be nearer?"

  "Perhaps, but not so congenial. I can't tell you what a happy day

  that was for me when I discovered your stepmother, and she introduced me to your household."

  Again I was silent. I was a most ungracious hostess but then I was a most unwilling one.

  "When do you expect the happy couple to return?" he asked.

  "I gather they will be away for a month. It is hardly worth travelling so far for a shorter stay."

  "And a honeymoon!" His dark eyes tried to hold mine and strangely enough I found it hard to draw mine away. He had a certain effect on me. I wished I could be indifferent but he had a sort of horrible fascination for me. I suppose that is how a rabbit feels when face to face with a stoat. "Can you imagine it? Florence ... Venice ... Rome ... I suppose they will visit all those places. How would you like to do that, Miss Ann Alice?"

  "I am sure it would be most interesting."

  "A great deal would depend on one's companion."

  I looked at him pointedly. "That is always the case," I said, "whether one is in Venice or Venezuela."

  "How do you know?" he asked laughing. "Have you ever visited Venezuela?"

  "No. Nor Venice either."

  "But you will one day, and when you do I hope it will be in the right company. I must confess never having been to Venezuela, but Venice ... well, that beautiful city is not unknown to me. I should like to show you Venice. You would enjoy that... drifting along the canals in a gondola ... or perhaps in Florence ... shopping on the Ponte Vecchio."

  "I suppose we all have our dreams of seeing the world."

  "The great thing is to put those plans into action. Don't you agree?"

  "Let me give you some more wine." I was sorry I had spoken for it meant going near to him. His fingers touched mine as I gave him the glass.

  "This is a very happy morning for me," he said.

  I did not answer and he went on: "Will you ride with me tomorrow? I know of a very pleasant inn not far away. They serve the most delicious roast beef."

  "It is out of the question," I replied. "I have commitments tomorrow."

  "There is the next day."

  "My time is fully occupied."

  "What a busy young lady you are! I am determined to find some

  time when you are free. I should like to see that establishment about which I have heard so much."

  "Oh, are you interested in maps?"

  "Fascinated by them. There is so much I want explained to me."

  "Then you have come to the wrong person," I replied triumphantly. "I know little about them. You will have to go to the shop and ask them there. If my brother were here he would talk to you about that."

  "Oh, so you have a brother?" Did I imagine it, or was he a little dismayed?

  "Oh yes. He is away on some expedition. Exploring new territories. That's an essential part of map making."

  "I see."

  "He could have told you all you want to know. He was always very enthusiastic on the subject."

  "He must be older than you."

  "He is and he has never had much time to spare for his sister."

  "Poor little lonely one!"

  "Not lonely at all. I have so much to interest me. I don't really need anyone."

  "So self-sufficient. That's a very good thing to be."

  "I think so."

  "Well, what about our outing?"

  He was so persistent that it was difficult to give him a definite refusal without telling him the truth, which was that I did not like his company and that he faintly alarmed me in a way which I did not fully understand. It was instinct, I suppose. So I prevaricated.

  "This week is out of the question. I am not sure about the next."

  He understood, of course. He regarded me sardonically.

  "I am determined to catch you one day," he said.

  And his words sounded ominous.

  How glad I was when he left.

  March 10th He has proved himself right. He has caught me at
last. I wish I had the courage to tell him that I want him to leave me alone. One has been brought up with such a respect for good manners—one might say a reverence—that one is never able to be absolutely sincere.

  So I have gone on eluding him, escaping as gracefully as I could. I guess he is the sort of man who enjoys a challenge and the more I am determined to escape, the more determined he is to catch me.

  Yesterday was a lovely day. The fields were white and gold with daisies, buttercups and dandelions; and the horse chestnuts and sycamores were showing their green leaves.

  There was a fresh wind and that delicious tang in the air which is

  a herald of the spring. I love this time of the year when the birds seem to be going wild with joy.

  Lovely springtime! And how good it is to gallop across the meadows and then slow down and trundle through the lanes and to look for wild flowers in the hedgerows and on the banks and try to remember the names Miss Bray had for them all.

  It is ten days since my father and his new wife left for Italy. They will be back on the first of April. Then everything is going to be different. I am dreading their return. Sometimes I think I should be making plans. What will it be like when they come back? I should be prepared. But what can I do? There is no one whose advice I can ask. Unless it is Miss Bray... Mrs. Eggerton, mother-to-be. She will be absorbed in preparation for her baby and be quite unable to think of anything else. No, I cannot intrude on her blissful contentment. I must wait and see. Perhaps it will not be so bad. Perhaps I am exaggerating. After all, what harm has Miss Gilmour done to me? She has always been accommodating. She has never pressed me to study hard. She has been ready to be friendly. What is it? Why do I have this feeling of apprehension? It is the same with Mr. Featherstone.

  I was not far from the inn where I had first seen him with Miss Gilmour when he came up to me.

  "Hello," he said. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

  "I am just on my way home."

  "It seems to be your usual destination when we meet. In any case there is no hurry, is there?"

  "I did not want to be late."

  "I know you have many pressing engagements, but just once, eh? What about a little refreshment? It was in this very inn that we first met. So it is rather an occasion, is it not?"

  I hesitated. Perhaps I was being rather foolish. I had been so curt with him and that was rather bad manners. And what harm could we do drinking a goblet of cider. Perhaps I could manage to convey to him subtly that I preferred to ride alone.

  So I agreed; we dismounted and went into the inn.

  We sat at the table where I had found him sitting with Miss Gilmour.

  "Our honeymooners will soon be back," he said, when the cider was brought. "Your continued health and happiness, Miss Ann Alice."

  "Thank you. And yours."

  "I am glad you wish me well. For my future contentment, I have a feeling, will depend on you."

  "You surprise me, Mr. Featherstone."

  "You are surprised only because you are so adorably innocent. You are on the threshold of life."

  "I find it rather irritating when people stress my youth. I am not so very young."

  "Indeed not. You are, as I know, verging on seventeen. When is it? The glorious twenty-first of May?"

  "How did you know?"

  "What is it they say? A little bird ..."

  "The bird, I imagine, was not so little. It must have been Miss Gilmour."

  "Miss Gilmour no longer. The happy Mrs. Mallory. And you should not be irritated by appreciation of your youth. Youth is the most precious gift the gods bestow. Unfortunately it does not last. Very sad, is it not?"

  "I should not mind being a little older, I do assure you."

  "We all want to be older when we are young and younger when we are old. It is the perversity of human nature. But why talk in generalizations. It is of you I want to talk."

  "A not very interesting subject, I am afraid."

  "An absorbing subject." His question startled me. "What do you think of me?"

  I flushed. I could not tell him what I really thought of him. I sought the right words. "I think you are probably very ... shrewd."

  "Oh, thank you. What else?"

  "Well, I suppose a man of the world."

  "A shrewd man of the world. It does not sound too bad for a start. Anything else?"

  "I cannot understand why you bother to pursue me."

  He laughed. "Shall I tell you what I think of you?"

  "I am not really interested."

  "You are growing up, and you don't always tell the truth. Everybody wants to know what others think of them. I am going to tell you in any case. I think you are adorable."

  I blushed to the roots of my hair I am sure.

  "And," he went on, "/ am speaking the truth."

  I struggled for my composure.

  "Now I will speak the truth," I said, "and I will say that I am sure you find many people of my sex ... adorable."

  "You are discerning. I will not deny it."

  "It would be useless to."

  "And quite out of the question, if this is to be an exchange of truths. But," he went on, "you are the most adorable of them all."

  I looked at him cynically. "Well, the cider was good," I said. "Thank you for it. And I really must be going."

  "We have only just come."

  "It does not take very long to drink a goblet of cider."

  "But look, I have not finished mine."

  "I could leave you to finish it."

  "I could not allow you to go back alone."

  "I came out alone."

  "I wonder what your father will have to say about your solitary wanderings when he returns."

  "He will be too much engrossed with his new wife to think much about me."

  His hand came out across the table and I was too late to elude it. He held mine tightly, fondling it.

  "So you are a little—jealous?"

  "Indeed I am not."

  "Stepmothers have a reputation for being unacceptable."

  "I would not judge beforehand. I have only had a stepmother for ten days and during those she has been absent."

  "Marriages are in the air," he said. "They say they are catching."

  I shrugged my shoulders and managed to free my hand. I stood up.

  "Do you insist?" he asked.

  "I do."

  "Just as the conversation is getting interesting."

  "Is it so interesting to you?"

  "Enormously so. I am telling you how much I admire you. You are more than pretty. You are beautiful."

  I looked at him scornfully. "I do have an excellent mirror, Mr. Featherstone. And even if it does not tell me what I would like to know, it tells me the truth."

  I thought of dear Miss Bray comforting me. "You may not be exactly pretty, Ann Alice, but you have an interesting face. Yes, on the whole I think you may turn out to be quite attractive."

  And now he was telling me I was beautiful!

  "Your hair is a lovely shade of brown and your eyes... they show many colours. Which are they? Brown? Green? Grey?"

  "Generally known as hazel," I said, "and really quite undistinguished."

  "You have a pretty mouth."

  "Thank you. That is a nice point on which to close this assessment of my appearance."

  "I could go on talking of them endlessly."

  "Then I am afraid I should have to leave you to talk to yourself. I find the subject rather boring."

  He drained his goblet.

  "Are you determined to cut short this pleasant tete-a-tete?"

  He was standing beside me and taking my arm held it firmly. His face was very close to mine and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. I recoiled in horror.

  "Do you not like me a little?" he asked almost pathetically.

  I released my arm and started for the door.

  "I hardly know you, Mr. Featherstone," I said over my shoulder. "I never make hasty judgements of
people."

  "I think when you really allow yourself to know me you might become rather fond of me."

  He insisted on helping me into the saddle.

  "Thank you," I said. He stood for a few moments looking up at me. Then he took my hand and kissed it. I felt as though I had been touched by a snake.

  He looked at me pleadingly. "Give yourself a chance to know me," he said.

  I turned my horse away and did not answer. Did I imagine it or did I detect an angry glint in his eyes. I was not sure but it sent a little shiver of alarm through me.

  I walked my horse away from the inn and he was beside me.

  We rode home in silence.

  But my uneasiness is growing.

  March 23 rd In a week they will return. I am almost eager for them to do so. This month has been a strange one for me and it seems to have been haunted by Mr. Featherstone.

  I have not been riding so much because he is sure to be lying in wait for me. He is always trying to tell me that he is in love with me.

  I don't believe him for one instant. As a matter of fact sometimes I think he dislikes me. I have caught an expression flitting across his face and he looks really angry. I think he has probably made easy conquests in the past and my aloofness does not please him at all.

  There were times when I thought he was in love with Miss Gilmour. Oh, how I wish he had been and they had gone away together!

  How different everything would have been then!

  If Miss Bray were not in the process of having a baby I would go to her. I could never have explained my feelings to her though. It was better to do nothing but to continue with the cat-and-mouse game in which Mr. Featherstone seemed determined to indulge, I keep think-

  ing of that analogy. What does the cat do when it catches the mouse? It teases it, pretending it is going to allow it to escape and catches it before it can do so, testing it, torturing it... until it finally kills it.

  I am really working myself into a state of nervousness over Mr. Featherstone.

  I sometimes wake in the night in a state of terror because I believe he is in the house. I have even risen from my bed, opened the door and looked into the corridor really expecting to see him lurking there. Sometimes, I stand at my window which is at the back of the house and does not look over the Green but onto the fields and the woods. I look for a figure hiding there.

  Then I laugh at myself. "Silly dreams. Foolish imaginings," I say.