“I shall go out tomorrow whatever you say,” Mrs. Vale threatened, but Nanny got her way and, as the clock struck half-past eight, she said goodnight.
Mona sat alone in front of the fire. It was very quiet and still, the ticking of the grandfather clock and the gentle crackle of the flames licking the logs were the only sounds to disturb the peace of the room, but the question in her mind gave her no rest. She could not relax, could not forget, even for a moment.
At last, as though she could bear it no longer, she jumped to her feet. She put on a thick coat, changed her shoes, and started off to walk across the fields. There was no frost tonight, the moon was veiled in clouds and there was a promise of rain in the cold wind blowing across the open fields. Mona walked on, half reluctant to go forward and yet afraid to go back.
When she came in sight of the Park, she walked slower and slower. She could not prepare what she would say to Michael, but she felt driven by a force stronger than herself. She rang the bell at the front door and then, as she waited for old Bates to come shuffling across the hall to let her in, she wondered if she was crazy. Was she destroying voluntarily, and against her mother’s advice, her last chance of happiness?
‘If I lose Michael,’ she thought, ‘there’s nothing left for me.’
She had a sudden vision of the years without him, of growing old alone, of becoming withered and bitter without the comfort of husband or children and the interest that their love could bring her. The temptation to turn round was strong – to leave before it was too late. But at that moment Bates opened the door, and she went in.
“The Major’s in the library, My Lady.”
“Is he alone?”
“I think so, My Lady. Mrs. Windlesham is listening to the wireless. There’s an opera on tonight and the Major, he can’t bear opera.”
“Nor can I,” Mona smiled. “I’ll go and find him, Bates.”
She opened the library door and found Michael sitting alone at his desk. He turned his head wonderingly, then started to his feet with an exclamation of gladness.
“Mona! How lovely to see you! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have fetched you!”
“I wanted to walk.”
“Come and sit down. You must be frozen.”
He helped Mona off with her coat, and as she smoothed her hair in front of the big gilt mirror over the mantelpiece, he said,
“You are looking very lovely. I was thinking of you when you walked in.”
“And I was thinking about you, Michael. That’s why I have come. I wanted to see you. There’s something ... something I want to tell you.”
Her voice faltered on the words and she dropped her eyes before his, suddenly afraid, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. Then Michael’s arms were round her and she heard his voice, excited, triumphant and thrilling with a note she had never heard before,
“You’ve made up your mind,” he said exultantly. “Oh, my darling, there’s no need to tell me! I know what you’ve come to say.”
He held her close against him and she could feel his heart beating against her breast. She felt his lips on her mouth, gentle at first, then growing more demanding, more compelling. He took her by surprise and for a moment she struggled against him, before she went limp in his arms.
She was unable to contradict him, unable to explain that he had made a mistake, she could only surrender herself to his kisses and then respond to them because they lit a flame within her, which leapt joyously towards him. She knew an all-enveloping gladness she had never experienced before. She knew too, that the world was suddenly golden and wonderful with a glory beyond words. Finally he let her go. She stepped back, flushed and uncertain, her hands touching her burning cheeks, her rumpled hair.
“Darling! My darling!” Michael said and would have pulled her to him again.
When she put out her hands to stop him, he caught them to his lips, kissing her fingers and then the palms.
“I love you!”
Mona could not check her reply.
“I love you too, Michael.”
“I wish I could tell you what it means to me to hear you say that,” he said, his voice low and deep with emotion. “I didn’t believe that I should ever hear you say those words. You’ve always seemed to me too wonderful, too beautiful in every way, to care for a clodhopper like me.”
“Don’t say such things, they’re untrue.”
“They’re not. I’m very humble where you are concerned. I never expected you to look at me, although I’ve been in love with you ever since I was a schoolboy. It will make you laugh now, but I used to dream about you long before you grew up.”
“Oh, Michael! And I was so unkind to you.”
“Yes, you were horrid,” Michael replied with a grin. “I used to feel like crying sometimes when you teased me and yet it was better to be teased by you, than smiled on by someone else. I adored you, you see, you meant everything that was wonderful, everything that was beautiful, and my Queen could do no wrong.”
“Oh, Michael!”
Mona remembered why she had come. Her fingers tightened on his hand. She must find courage to tell him, she thought, she must!
He sat down beside her on the sofa, his arms around her, his cheek against hers.
“And now,” he said softly, “that all my dreams have come true, we can plan for the future. I think, deep down within me, I always knew that this moment would come. I believed that you were meant for me, I had faith in that even when everything went wrong, even when you married someone else.”
“But, Michael, you never asked me yourself.”
“I was afraid to. I felt it was such presumption on my part. It was almost sacrilege to ask the wonderful woman I worshipped to share my dull, humdrum life.”
“How silly of you!” Mona said softly.
She was still afraid, and powerless to voice her confession.
‘How can I tell him,’ she thought desperately, ‘while he talks to me like this?’
