Mary Burchell - Nobody Asked Me

‘And do you really suppose I’m fool enough to believe that Julian really wants you?’ Rosalie’s cold contempt was very hard to stand. ‘You’re just a sort of salve to his injured vanity because-’

‘I’m not discussing that with you,’ Alison interrupted quietly. ‘Julian is my fiancé now, you might remember.’ And, fantastic though the whole situation was, she felt a warm, illogical feeling of pride and tenderness run all through her as she said that.

Rosalie began to speak again, but at this point Uncle Theodore seemed to think it time he took a hand. He turned from something he was saying to his wife and remarked:

‘I think that is enough, Rosalie. You can’t possibly have both young men without committing bigamy, and I am sure you wouldn’t dream of doing anything that would have such unpleasant consequences for yourself. Leave your cousin and her affairs alone. Julian is not your concern any longer. And you would give a more dignified impression if you didn’t show your disappointed spite so clearly.’

His stepdaughter didn’t reply. She gave him a look of intense dislike-which appeared to leave him entirely unmoved-and went out of the room without saying good night even to her mother.

‘Well, Alison’-Alison couldn’t help feeling that in some obscure way her uncle was enjoying all this-’we shan’t have any too much time to prepare for your wedding. But still, we must arrange something very nice for you.’

Alison was so moved at this that she flushed until the tears came into her eyes. But her aunt spoke very sharply.

‘I should think the best thing would be to have absolutely no fuss. She had better be married quietly in a register office.’

‘Certainly not.’ Uncle Theodore was almost amiable for him, and quite determined. ‘That’s no sort of marriage for a young girl. I am sure Alison agrees with me.’

‘I-I’d rather be married in a church,’ Alison said in a low voice.

‘Of course,’ her uncle said. ‘And, as a matter of fact, you’ll make an extremely pretty bride. You shall have things just as you want them.’

‘Oh, Uncle!’ Alison went to him suddenly and hid her face against his arm. ‘You are good to me. I don’t know why.’

Her uncle stroked her hair a little, very much to her surprise, and somewhat to his own, she thought. ‘It’s because you are a good, undemanding child,’ he told her.

‘Really, Theodore.’ Aunt Lydia couldn’t hide her vexed astonishment. ‘You seem a great deal better pleased and more interested about Julian’s engagement to Alison than ever you were when he was to marry Rosalie.’

‘I am,’ her husband said coolly. ‘I imagine Alison is genuinely fond of him, whereas Rosalie was marrying him simply for his money. And, of course,’ he added reflectively, ‘to marry a man for his money is about the most despicable thing any woman can do.’

Alison felt frightened at the expressionless way her uncle looked all over his wife, without appearing to see her. There was something unnerving in this passion of contemptuous dislike which never found expression in words.

But apparently Aunt Lydia was not so sensitive, or else she was a good actress. For after a moment she said with plaintive mildness:

‘Well, I don’t see how we’re going to afford two expensive weddings so close together.’

‘Then Rosalie can wait,’ was the curt reply.That did shake Aunt Lydia.

‘Rosalie-wait’? For Alison? Really, Theodore, I think you’re forgetting that Alison is really no relation of yours at all.’

‘Nor is Rosalie,’ retorted her husband brutally. ‘And, of the two, I would rather spend my money on Alison. She has always seemed to me to be a grateful, docile child, and very eager to please. I have never found Rosalie anything but a grasping, selfish, quite exceptionally disagreeable young person. That is all I have to say about it. And now, Alison, you had better run along to bed.’

Alison thought so too, and, with an impulsive hug for her uncle and a rather embarrassed good night to her aunt, she went away upstairs.

When she woke next morning she lay for quite a few minutes, watching the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains, and wondering why a sense of frightened exhilaration seemed to struggle with a feeling of apprehension.

Then suddenly she remembered.

She snatched her left hand out from under the coverlet. It was quite true. The thick gold of Julian’s signet ring glimmered on her finger.

For a moment she pressed her hand hard against her cheek so that she could feel his ring there-the ring which he himself had worn. He had said something about buying her another one-’anything she liked’. But she thought wistfully that she would much rather have kept this one.

Presently she got up and went downstairs. Her aunt and Rosalie were breakfasting in their rooms, but her uncle was already down, so she joined him.

He glanced up from The Times, said, ‘Good morning, Alison,’ absently, and then went back to his paper.

Alison wondered whether he were a little ashamed of his show of feeling last night, or whether it was that his interest had genuinely evaporated.

However, when he had finished his breakfast he folded up his newspaper with his usual precision, and looked across at her.

‘I suppose there’s a good deal to be done about your trousseau and that sort of thing,’ he said with masculine vagueness.

‘Well, I suppose-there is,’ Alison admitted a little uncomfortably.

Her uncle thoughtfully balanced his coffee-spoon on the edge of his cup.

‘I spoke to your aunt last night about it, and she doesn’t seem specially anxious to take the business in hand. Perhaps she feels she has enough to do for Rosalie already.’ He adjusted the balance of the spoon with meticulous care.

They didn’t look at each other, and after a moment Alison said gravely, ‘I dare say she does.’

Uncle Theodore cleared his throat.

‘It seems a bit of a responsibility for you on your own. Especially considering that you’re only out of school six or seven months. Have you any woman friend you can consult about it?’

‘Oh, no.’ Alison looked surprised. She hadn’t had many opportunities of making friends.

‘Well, you’d better speak to Julian about it.’ Her uncle had evidently come to the end of his suggestions. ‘One of his partners probably has a wife or a mother or someone he could ask I’m afraid I can’t help you over anything much but the bills.’ And he smiled a little grimly.

‘Oh, Uncle, I shan’t need very much-really.’ Alison spoke distressedly.

‘Nonsense, my dear, of course you will. Julian is a very rich man, with a big position to keep up. You don’t suppose I should let you go to him looking like a shabby little nobody?’

‘It seems-such a shame,’ Alison said in a low voice.

‘What does?’

‘That you-you’re always called on to do the paying.’

Her uncle laughed a little.

‘I assure you that twenty years of constant practice has perfected my technique,’ he said drily. ‘You needn’t bother your head about that.’ And he patted her fair, silky head not unkindly as he went off.

Alison had no wish to see either Rosalie or Aunt Lydia just then, so she deliberately made some jobs for herself in her own room.

Then presently one of the servants knocked on the door, to say that Mr. Tyndrum was waiting in the library.

‘Oh, yes, I’ll come.’

Alison glanced at herself in the mirror, ran a comb nervously through her hair, and hurried downstairs.

He was standing looking out of the window, his hands in his pockets, and he looked very tall and overwhelming silhouetted against the light.

At the sound of the opening door he turned and came towards her at once.