car leapt forward again. The late afternoon light had already deepened to twilight, and Lou ceased watching the speedometer needle reaching seventy, eighty, ninety and sank into an exhausted doze. She had forgotten to ask Piers again where they were going, if it wasn ’ t to Paris and Rome, and Vienna as didn ’ t seem likely, but it no longer mattered ...
She must have slept, for when she next opened her eyes it was quite dark. The rain, she thought, must have stopped, for the twin wipers were at rest; she imagined she saw the first stars pricking through the sky, but it might only have been the lights of some distant village, or even the imaginings of her own desire for the breaking up of the darkness.
She slept again, this time leaning unconsciously against Piers ’ shoulder, then the piercing squeal of tires woke her, she was conscious of being flung across the car as the brakes bit and threw them into a skid, and in the sudden ensuing silence, broken only by a sinister hiss of steam, she became aware of Piers beside her slumped across the steering wheel.
CHAPTER THREE
Lou, for all her emotional timidity, was, curiously enough, undismayed by purely physical shock. Having assured herself that Piers was not dead but merely unconscious she set about determining his injuries. From a nasty-looking cut on his forehead and blood on the splintered ” driving mirror she deduced that he had been thrown forward and knocked himself out. She began staunching the wound with a handkerchief she found in his breast pocket, relieved that he did not appear to be unduly crushed against the steering wheel, and for the first time that day life took on some sort of reality. Here beside her was no longer the notorious Piers Merrick who gave the orders, but a helpless stranger whose face in oblivion looked oddly defenceless.
As she gently dabbed and mopped, Lou found herself memorizing with tender surprise this unfamiliar aspect of the man she had just married. He looked younger a nd rather touchingly vulnerable, and with the temporary lifting of the habitual mask which he showed to polite society, he was, she thought, a man it would not be difficult to love, for the face now matched the voice. She had, very strangely, an instant ’ s sharp impression of the little boy w ho long ago had trustingly placed his life and his love in the careless hands of a beautiful woman and found his security shattered.
“ Poor Piers ... ” she murmured compassionately, stroking the lines of his unaware face. “ Poor little boy, hitting back at life with your fabulous possessions ... probably not caring very much about any of them . . . She did not know why she should think this last, except that she supposed if there was money enough to indulge every whim, values would cease to have importance.
She began to be aware that she must be suffering some measure of delayed shock herself, sitting here pondering on unlikely subjects when she should be going to seek help. She made Piers as comfortable as she could, then got out of the car and went to stand in the road to stop the first passing vehicle. Nothing, she realized, had gone by since the accident, and it seemed to be a lonely stretch of road, not even a highway, but probably one of the many short cuts on which Piers prided himself. A short cut to where, though? She had fallen asleep before asking him again where they were going, and now she did not know in which direction to walk to find the nearest town or village. It had started to spatter with rain again and she stood irresolutely in the cold and darkness, glad of the comfort of Melissa ’ s mink, but reminded anew of her borrowed identity.
While she was still trying to decide which way to take, she saw with relief approaching lights in the distance, and ran into the centre of the road, waving frantically.
The car slowed down and an irritable face peered from the window.
“ Can ’ t stop for lifts, I ’ m in a hurry, ” an equally
She must have slept, for when she next opened her eyes it was quite dark. The rain, she thought, must have stopped, for the twin wipers were at rest; she imagined she saw the first stars pricking through the sky, but it might only have been the lights of some distant village, or even the imaginings of her own desire for the breaking up of the darkness.
She slept again, this time leaning unconsciously against Piers ’ shoulder, then the piercing squeal of tires woke her, she was conscious of being flung across the car as the brakes bit and threw them into a skid, and in the sudden ensuing silence, broken only by a sinister hiss of steam, she became aware of Piers beside her slumped across the steering wheel.
CHAPTER THREE
Lou, for all her emotional timidity, was, curiously enough, undismayed by purely physical shock. Having assured herself that Piers was not dead but merely unconscious she set about determining his injuries. From a nasty-looking cut on his forehead and blood on the splintered ” driving mirror she deduced that he had been thrown forward and knocked himself out. She began staunching the wound with a handkerchief she found in his breast pocket, relieved that he did not appear to be unduly crushed against the steering wheel, and for the first time that day life took on some sort of reality. Here beside her was no longer the notorious Piers Merrick who gave the orders, but a helpless stranger whose face in oblivion looked oddly defenceless.
As she gently dabbed and mopped, Lou found herself memorizing with tender surprise this unfamiliar aspect of the man she had just married. He looked younger a nd rather touchingly vulnerable, and with the temporary lifting of the habitual mask which he showed to polite society, he was, she thought, a man it would not be difficult to love, for the face now matched the voice. She had, very strangely, an instant ’ s sharp impression of the little boy w ho long ago had trustingly placed his life and his love in the careless hands of a beautiful woman and found his security shattered.
“ Poor Piers ... ” she murmured compassionately, stroking the lines of his unaware face. “ Poor little boy, hitting back at life with your fabulous possessions ... probably not caring very much about any of them . . . She did not know why she should think this last, except that she supposed if there was money enough to indulge every whim, values would cease to have importance.
She began to be aware that she must be suffering some measure of delayed shock herself, sitting here pondering on unlikely subjects when she should be going to seek help. She made Piers as comfortable as she could, then got out of the car and went to stand in the road to stop the first passing vehicle. Nothing, she realized, had gone by since the accident, and it seemed to be a lonely stretch of road, not even a highway, but probably one of the many short cuts on which Piers prided himself. A short cut to where, though? She had fallen asleep before asking him again where they were going, and now she did not know in which direction to walk to find the nearest town or village. It had started to spatter with rain again and she stood irresolutely in the cold and darkness, glad of the comfort of Melissa ’ s mink, but reminded anew of her borrowed identity.
While she was still trying to decide which way to take, she saw with relief approaching lights in the distance, and ran into the centre of the road, waving frantically.
The car slowed down and an irritable face peered from the window.
“ Can ’ t stop for lifts, I ’ m in a hurry, ” an equally
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