Part 18 (1/2)

Because she had lost the one thing that mattered in her life she had plunged into the world of Social gaiety in an effort to forget.

She sought admiration, she sought the love she had lost, even while she knew that she would never find it again.

And so while she could not be satisfied by love, she would try and replace it with ambition, and she had achieved that when the Marquis asked her to marry him.

It was all very clear, Torilla thought, and she knew that this was a further reason why she could do nothing to take the Marquis from her.

Beryl lost Rodney who was the love of her life and a great Social position was her only subst.i.tute.

”At least my wearing pink will give them something to talk about,” Beryl said in a voice, which told Torilla that she had once again a.s.sumed a mask to hide her real feelings.

”It might make them a speculate why you are wearing it,” Torilla said hesitatingly.

”They will do that whatever I wear,” Beryl replied. ”You don't suppose that those gossiping old chatterboxes have not paired me off with innumerable lovers by this time? Charles Newall is only the latest.”

She gave a pathetic little laugh that was not far from tears and went on, ”There were several men last year who they whispered about in corners and as many the year before.”

”And you do not a mind?” Torilla asked.

”Why should I?” Beryl replied shrugging her shoulders. ”It is better to be talked about than ignored and I should hate a really hate a no one to notice me.”

She saw the expression on Torilla's face and rose from the stool to come to her side.

”I am glad I have told you my secret, dearest,” she said. ”You are the only person who would understand, the only person who will know why sometimes I do outrageous things just to a forget.”

”I do understand, but, Beryl, remember that because he loved you Rodney will always be near you as I feel Mama is near me.”

Beryl stiffened.

”I have tried to believe that. When I first learnt that he was dead, I used to cry out to him in the darkness to come to me, to hold me in his arms as he did when he was alive, but he a never came.”

Her voice hardened as she went on, ”I told myself then that all the stories of an after life that your father talks about so glibly were a lot of nonsense. When someone dies, there is only h.e.l.l for those who are left behind.”

”No, no!” Torilla said. ”You must not think that! I have often felt when I have been desperately unhappy that Mama was near me. I know there is no death.”

”Then why does Rodney not come to me?” Beryl asked. ”He loved me, Torilla, as no one will ever love me again. We belonged to each other and yet now he is apparently content to leave me a alone.”

”I do not believe that.”

”Well, I do!” Beryl answered.

Once again there were tears in her eyes and she wiped them away.

”We cannot go out now, seeing what a freak I have made of myself. I am going to lie down, Torilla, and I suggest you do the same. There is a dinner party tonight, but only a small one.”

”You had better not stay up late, since you are being married tomorrow,” Torilla replied, trying to speak naturally.

”I suppose not,” Beryl agreed. ”Gallen is not coming to dinner, I cannot think why. He sent his apologies this morning and said he has made other plans.”

She smiled mockingly as she added, ”I expect he plans to say goodbye to one of his flirts. I wonder if it is the widow with whom he was enamoured at one time, or a very delectable red-head I saw him with one night at a theatre?”

Torilla was quite certain it was neither of these women and what the Marquis was really avoiding was a small intimate dinner party at which she would be present.

'I should have gone North before the wedding,' she thought, but it had been impossible to leave Beryl and now she was glad she had not done so.

She felt that in some way it had been a relief for Beryl to tell her the truth, and it swept away much of the anxiety she had felt about her cousin's character having altered since she had been such a success in London.

It hurt her to think of Beryl's unhappiness hidden beneath all the froth and gaiety of the Social world.

But at least Beryl had been married to Rodney, she had known the unutterable bliss of being his wife and they had had, as Beryl said herself, three days of Heaven.

When Torilla went back to Barrowfield, there would be only the memory of one wonderful kiss and the touch of the Marquis's fingers on her wrist.

That was all she had to last her for the rest of her life.

Yet because she loved him so deeply, he would always be in her thoughts and mind.

Whatever physically he might mean to Beryl, or to any other woman, spiritually he would remain hers for all Eternity.

There was so much commotion and fuss on the morning of the wedding that Torilla felt they would never reach the Church.

The Countess was rus.h.i.+ng round the house giving the servants orders, then countermanding them, and the confusion was increased by the late arrival of the Earl.

His carriage had been delayed on the road and at one moment they thought he must have forgotten the day and would not be there to give the bride away.

Combined with all this, there was a constant stream of callers bringing notes and messages and belated presents. Florists delivering bouquets and dressmakers items of clothing, which had needed last minute alterations.

There were a dozen trunks to be packed for Beryl's honeymoon.

Again either the Countess or Beryl kept changing their minds as to what was to be included and what was to be sent to the Marquis's castle in Huntingdons.h.i.+re.

The only person not particularly involved was Torilla herself.

Although she tried to keep close to her cousin in case she should need her, Beryl was in one of her moods when she was ready to think everything amusing and take nothing seriously.

She infuriated the Earl by telling him that his smart London coat was too tight for him and, when she tried to change her mother's hat, the Countess screamed at her in exasperation.

”Do not interfere, Beryl!” she stormed. ”Leave me alone and look after your own things. I am quite certain that you and your maid have forgotten half the gowns that should have been packed.”

”If so, I will buy some more,” Beryl retorted tartly.

Finally she was dressed in the pink gown that had evoked a storm of opposition both from her father and her mother.

”Pink? Who ever heard of a bride wearing pink?” they asked, both for once being in accord.

”It is extremely unconventional,” the Earl intoned pompously.

”I have no wish to be a conventional bride,” Beryl replied, ”and you know as well as I do, Papa, that I am looking very beautiful and everyone will tell you so.”