way for both of them.
“The gardens, please,” she decided without hesitation. “You have some lovely trees.”
He led the way through a small morning room at the back of the hall where french windows opened on to a paved terrace. Beneath it stretched a narrow lawn surrounded by rose pergolas, and all along the flower borders on either side the roses were still in bloom.
“Sometimes I think this sort of Indian summer is the loveliest time of the year,” Jane mused. “Late roses always seem so full of depth and color—”
“ Not washed out by the heat of the sun?” he smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. The midsummer sun can be so very fierce.”
Why should she feel that they weren’t talking about the roses at all? Jane found herself wondering, too, why Valerie had not joined them in the garden. She was somewhere in the house, in one of the downstairs rooms. She might even be able to see them from a window.
“It can be wonderfully peaceful here,” Max said, leaving the rose garden behind. “We plan to build a tennis court before next summer.”
He paused, as if there might be some doubt about the plan ever reaching fruition, and once again Jane was aware of that odd tension she had first experienced in the hall when Valerie had spoken about the staircase.
“I should imagine a court would be invaluable up here if you entertain a lot,” she said, and was surprised to see his mouth tighten before he answered.
“As you see, we do entertain quite a lot,” he said briefly, his eyes narrowed on the distant hill road along which two cars were approaching at breakneck speed.
They were obviously coming to Marton Heights and he turned, as if at a signal, to lead the way back indoors.
Valerie was waiting in the hall. She had changed into a white silk dress, pleated from neck to hem and completely sleeveless. It was girdled by a yellow silk cord and she wore court shoes of a matching colour. Standing there with her fair golden hair brushed into a soft, halo about her face she looked like some young sun goddess, and Jane’s heart turned over at the comparison.
How could anyone fail to love Valerie? Max, for instance, who had known her all his life? Always there had been that suggestion of white-and-gold about Valerie and, studied or unstudied, it had its effect.
She came toward them, smiling as she kissed Max on the cheek.
“Tired, darling?” she murmured. “Too bad! I’ll make your excuses for you while you go and change. It isn’t really a very big party and—it’s for Jane!”
For a moment Jane thought that Max looked angry, and then he said:
“The cars are coming over the hill. They’ll be here in less than five minutes. Timson should have taken the convertible round to the stables when he brought you back. I’ll have a word with him.”
There was a split-second silence before Valerie put a slim white hand on his arm.
“I wouldn’t lecture Timson, if I were you, darling,” she advised. “He gets so annoyed when he’s pulled up about little things like that. I didn’t remember about putting the car away to make room for the others.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll take it round now, before they get here.”
Max seemed to have forgotten Jane. His gray eyes were steady and compelling on his wife’s.
“You did take Timson with you this afternoon?” he asked.
Valerie’s lovely eyes widened as she looked straight back at him. They were a clear, almost baby blue.
“Of course, darling!” she said. “You know I always do.”
The deliberate lie stunned Jane. She could not look at Max who, for some reason, must have forbidden his wife to take a car out on her own.
“I won’t be a minute,” Valerie assured them, making her escape.
The atmosphere in the hall was tense. For a moment Jane thought that Max was about to make some comment, to offer her some sort of explanation, and then he turned without a word to the door through which Valerie had come.
“I think we ought to
“The gardens, please,” she decided without hesitation. “You have some lovely trees.”
He led the way through a small morning room at the back of the hall where french windows opened on to a paved terrace. Beneath it stretched a narrow lawn surrounded by rose pergolas, and all along the flower borders on either side the roses were still in bloom.
“Sometimes I think this sort of Indian summer is the loveliest time of the year,” Jane mused. “Late roses always seem so full of depth and color—”
“ Not washed out by the heat of the sun?” he smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. The midsummer sun can be so very fierce.”
Why should she feel that they weren’t talking about the roses at all? Jane found herself wondering, too, why Valerie had not joined them in the garden. She was somewhere in the house, in one of the downstairs rooms. She might even be able to see them from a window.
“It can be wonderfully peaceful here,” Max said, leaving the rose garden behind. “We plan to build a tennis court before next summer.”
He paused, as if there might be some doubt about the plan ever reaching fruition, and once again Jane was aware of that odd tension she had first experienced in the hall when Valerie had spoken about the staircase.
“I should imagine a court would be invaluable up here if you entertain a lot,” she said, and was surprised to see his mouth tighten before he answered.
“As you see, we do entertain quite a lot,” he said briefly, his eyes narrowed on the distant hill road along which two cars were approaching at breakneck speed.
They were obviously coming to Marton Heights and he turned, as if at a signal, to lead the way back indoors.
Valerie was waiting in the hall. She had changed into a white silk dress, pleated from neck to hem and completely sleeveless. It was girdled by a yellow silk cord and she wore court shoes of a matching colour. Standing there with her fair golden hair brushed into a soft, halo about her face she looked like some young sun goddess, and Jane’s heart turned over at the comparison.
How could anyone fail to love Valerie? Max, for instance, who had known her all his life? Always there had been that suggestion of white-and-gold about Valerie and, studied or unstudied, it had its effect.
She came toward them, smiling as she kissed Max on the cheek.
“Tired, darling?” she murmured. “Too bad! I’ll make your excuses for you while you go and change. It isn’t really a very big party and—it’s for Jane!”
For a moment Jane thought that Max looked angry, and then he said:
“The cars are coming over the hill. They’ll be here in less than five minutes. Timson should have taken the convertible round to the stables when he brought you back. I’ll have a word with him.”
There was a split-second silence before Valerie put a slim white hand on his arm.
“I wouldn’t lecture Timson, if I were you, darling,” she advised. “He gets so annoyed when he’s pulled up about little things like that. I didn’t remember about putting the car away to make room for the others.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll take it round now, before they get here.”
Max seemed to have forgotten Jane. His gray eyes were steady and compelling on his wife’s.
“You did take Timson with you this afternoon?” he asked.
Valerie’s lovely eyes widened as she looked straight back at him. They were a clear, almost baby blue.
“Of course, darling!” she said. “You know I always do.”
The deliberate lie stunned Jane. She could not look at Max who, for some reason, must have forbidden his wife to take a car out on her own.
“I won’t be a minute,” Valerie assured them, making her escape.
The atmosphere in the hall was tense. For a moment Jane thought that Max was about to make some comment, to offer her some sort of explanation, and then he turned without a word to the door through which Valerie had come.
“I think we ought to
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