Margaret Pedler

“ Lady Rainault stared at her in bewilderment.
“The things you've missed?” she repeated.
“Yes. You've always been cared for,” Mrs. Carrington went on with gathering intensity. “I haven't! I've had to fight for my own hand. Everything that came to you naturally—luxury and position and a good time—I've had to get by angling for it. I'm sick of angling, sick of pretending! I want the real thing. And Billy can give it me. I've never had anything, never! I've always been on the edge. Oh, I know what people say; I'm an outsider. ”

“ Lady Rainault answered simply, “that Billy realizes it. You've dazzled him, you see.”
“And I'm going to marry him. What's more, you can't stop me. He's over age,” Mrs. Carrington burst out triumphantly.
“True. He's over age. But he's not independent of his father financially.”
The significance of Lady Rainault's reply shattered Mrs. Carrington's last shred of self-control. That clever assumption of aloofness, which so often had passed muster successfully where she was unknown as the quiet detachment of a woman of unquestionable status, went with it. ”

“ Billy enjoyed it, enjoyed it so much that it frightened him. More than once during the evening, as he met the clear, candid gaze of Anne's gray eyes, he had to remind himself that he was engaged, engaged to Mrs. Carrington. And that queer, incomprehensible mingling of fright and elation drove him, the next morning, into announcing his engagement to his mother.
Lady Rainault's reception of the news had not been encouraging. To embolden himself he reiterated the information more firmly:
“Yes. Mrs. Carrington and I are engaged to be married.”
For a moment his mother made no response. ”

“ Carrington's flat was perched on the top floor, and the services of a lift were not included among the advantages offered by the landlord.
Lady Rainault climbed the steep, stone stairway with lagging feet. She was in no hurry to reach the top. She frankly dreaded the forthcoming interview with the woman who, as the matter involuntarily phrased itself in her own mind, had trapped her son into an offer of marriage. Had her husband been home, she would, of course, have left it to him to arrange the affair. Men were more used to buying their way out of difficulties, she reflected ruefully. ”

“ Every decent instinct in her forbade her taking what he offered. Impulsively she drew away, her body stiffening a little in his eager clasp.
Though she had not spoken, he sensed the significance of her recoil.
“Don't say no!” he exclaimed sharply, his young voice roughening.
“Billy boy, I ought to say—just that!” Mrs. Carrington spoke very quietly. Her eyes looked sad.
“Why ought you?” he demanded hotly.
“Why? Oh, Billy, it's so obvious, isn't it? A man may not marry his grandmother!” ”

“ She could hear his footsteps as he descended the stone stairway grow fainter and fainter. When the last one had died away into silence she gave a little, shivering sigh like a tired child worn out with crying. ”

“ She's never had a dog's chance. She only wants to be looked after and protected and made happy, like our own women are.”
Lady Rainault observed the distinction so unconsciously emphasized and smiled a little to herself. Billy did not see the smile, but he flung down his last card triumphantly. “As you say, marriage means everything to her.” ”

“ Only she herself knew how she envied “those others,” women with assured positions and assured incomes, whom she sometimes watched from the window of her tiny, roof-high flat as they slid by in their cars, with their unshakable poise bred of the knowledge that no doors were closed against them. ”

“ She knew who he was quite well, the Honorable Billy Bethune, Lord Rainault's only son, and he was stopping at Sandbeach at the same hotel as herself, alone with his valet. Mrs. Carrington generally made it her business to know about the men at any hotel where she might be staying, more particularly if they were unattended by their womenkind. ”

“ The first week or two after his return he had been very much under his doctor's orders, and when, at last, his crutches were discarded in favor of a stick and a temporary limp, his mother had celebrated the occasion by a little dinner at the Ritz, to which Anne Seton had been bidden.
Anne, looking very sweet and young in one of “Minetta's” simplest and most expensive little frocks, had welcomed him back to London with a shy, frank pleasure which was rather disturbing. ”