Part 15 (2/2)
”Darling!” Barbara walked towards them. ”So you're here! I thought I heard the car a few minutes ago.”
”You did, Barbara. I've been ... talking to Samantha,” replied Patrick easily. ”Is everything under control? Is there anything I can do?”
They moved away together, talking, and Samantha had time to gather her scattered wits. What on earth had Pat rick meant by that final remark? And what did it imply?
She was absolutely intrigued. This last encounter had confirmed one thing at least. He was attracted by her. But whether it was a lasting attraction or just a transitory thing she had no way of knowing. After all, he was a sophisti cated man with sophisticated tastes. He might find it pleas ant to dally with the wallflower in the garden, but surely when it came to picking he would choose the choicest bloom and the ignorant, uncultured daughter of an old acquain tance (or old flame) could hardly be cla.s.sed as that.
Why then had he invited her to go with him to London?
Knowing she was twenty-one he would be quite aware that she was perfectly free to do as she chose, but, as it was so melodramatically put, what were his intentions? He had never mentioned love to her. Theirs had been a purely physical attraction so far. What did he intend she should do there?
She s.h.i.+vered. The idea that occurred to her could not be put aside. Did he intend that she should live with him?
She hugged herself, closing her eyes momentarily. Al though she knew it was wrong, the thoughts that came un invited to her head could not be denied.
Would it not be nice, a small voice taunted her, inside her brain, if he did want you in that way? To execute his every desire? To know the ecstasy of his possession if only for a short time at least? Was not half a loaf better than no bread? A short period of heaven!
”Excuse me, but aren't you Miss Kingsley?”
Samantha's eyes flew open and she blushed, feeling foolishly as though her thoughts had been written on her face for everyone to read.
Before her stood an elderly man, dressed in a dark morning suit, his silvery head only slightly higher than her chin.
”Why, yes,” she replied awkwardly, ”I'm Samantha Kingsley.”
”I thought you were.” His eyes twinkled a little. ”I'm sorry I had to interrupt your dreaming.”
Samantha's colour deepened until she felt like a tom ato.
”Oh, please-” she began.
'No, don't apologize, my dear.” He smiled. ”I must introduce myself. My name is Bolam, Joseph Bolam. I was your grandmother's solicitor.”
”Oh, yes.” Samantha smiled in return, and her colour subsided. ”How do you do? Are you looking for my mother?”
”Not especially. I wondered whether we might have a chat together. There's some time yet before we leave for the chapel, and I'd like to get to know you better. Your grandmother came to see me while she was in London and told me a great deal about you.”
Samantha bent her head. ”I only wished I had known her longer.”
”Yes, I'm sure she wished that, too, my dear.”
They walked together into the morning room. Like the other rooms much of the furniture was draped with sheets, but Samantha cleared a couple of armchairs and invited her guest to sit down.
”Tell me,” said Mr. Bolam, when they were seated, ”have you any plans for the future?
Samantha sighed. ”Not really. I ... well ... I don't want to impinge upon my mother's life. She is a very ... busy woman.”
”I'm sure. Barbara always was ... busy.” Mr. Bolam hesitated only a moment over the last word. ”I understand she has a play coming up in December.”
”Yes, that's right. I believe Mr. Mallory, Patrick Mallory that is, has written a play for her.”
”Ah, yes, Patrick Mallory. I have met him. Is he here today?”
”Yes. Actually, he and Mother are together at the moment”
Mr. Bolam coughed rather awkwardly. ”Is it possible that your mother might marry again?”
Samantha swallowed hard. ”You mean Mr. Mallory, of course.”
”Well, there has been some speculation, hasn't there? Your grandmother seemed to think it was likely.”
”Yes.” Samantha shrugged her slim shoulders. ”I really couldn't say. I know nothing about it. Barbara hasn't dis cussed it with me.”
”And if they did, would you like to live with them?”
”Oh, no!” Samantha was vehement on that score. Live with Patrick and her mother! Knowing that they were man and wife!
It would be tortuous and dangerous!
”That's interesting.” Mr. Bolam nodded and patter her knee.
”Don't worry, my dear. I'm sure you have no cause for alarm.”
”Alarm?”
”A figure of speech,” replied Mr. Bolam easily. He glanced at his watch. ”I think we ought to join the others now. Time is getting on.”
Apart from Barbara, Patrick, Mir. Bolam and Saman tha there were several old friends of Lady Davenport who lived in the neighbourhood who had been invited to join the family mourners. Emily, Lady Davenports personal maid and companion, rode in Patrick's car with Patrick himself and Mr.
Bolam, while other cars had been provi ded for the rest of the staff.
Samantha did not allow herself to cry in public, even though Barbara wept almost continuously. She found Pat rick of ten by her side and his nearness was a comfort to her.
The chapel stood in the grounds of the estate, and after the short service, it was there, in the family vault that Lady Davenport's remains were laid to rest.
Barbara's agent, Charles Barratt, had arrived front London also, and it was he who escorted Barbara back to the house in his car. Thus it was that Patrick offered Samantha a seat in his car for the return journey and she accepted. No one else joined them and they drove back alone.
Patrick glanced at her as she slid into the car, his eyes warm and gentle and Samantha had to force herself not to touch him, or to ask for his protection. When he joined her in the car, his thigh was close to hers, and she felt the palpitations of her heart.
She purposely avoided looking at him after that and stared unseeingly out of the car window instead.
”You're quite safe with me, you know,” Patrick remar ked, as he swung the car round and drove back to the house.
”Safe?” Samantha twisted her gloves together in her lap. ”I don't understand you?”
”Don't you? Well, my dear, you're acting as though I was the villain of the piece about to seduce you.”
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