Brittle Bondage by Rosalind Brett Read Free Book Online

lie to me into the bargain. And, great heaven, that’s something I won’t stand for! You didn’t wash your hair at all—it got soaked and you used perfume to take off the smell of rain.” He was talking rapidly, snapping out the words in an uprush of rage. “You knew damn well where you scratched your legs, but you let me draw my own conclusions. You set out deliberately to deceive me. Haven’t you any conscience at all where I’m concerned?”
    “It wasn’t like that,” she pleaded above her frantically pounding pulses. “I tried to tell you the moment you came in ... ” How could she explain that she had hated to destroy his mood; or the fear which had prompted her to wade through the avalanche? She made a bleak attempt. “You see, when we left this morning I forgot to tell the boy where I was going. Margery said we’d be home by three, and we would have been but for the storm. The car became bogged — ”
    “You needn’t go on. It’s all in the note, tied up with Margery’s apology. In future you’ll stay near the house while I’m away.” He went to the door. “Fumana!” The servant came ru nnin g. “Keep the boy from Lawnside. I’ll give him a letter to take back.”
    He strode out and down the corridor to the study. To Venetia the crack of the door held the finality of a pistol-shot. She would have given anything, just then, to be ten years older and ten thousand miles from Bondolo.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    AFTER dinner Blake sent her straight to bed with whisky and aspirin. There was nothing thoughtful or kind in his manner; he was merely sensibly warding off a chill. Next morning he breakfasted early and rode off alone, and Venetia was left to wander unhappily through the house and grounds. That day and others passed like a procession of cold, lonely dreams. Blake, polite and withdrawn, worked all the daylight hours and spent the evenings in the study. Dully she wondered whether he ever re-read the last letter from her father, and what were his emotions if he did.
    He still watched her health and bought a supply of books and magazines for her whenever he went to town, but he never asked for her company, and she was too fearful of rebuff to offer it. At Umsanga no one could have convinced her that Blake, the teasing, beloved comrade, would become transformed into a stony, incomprehensible guardian of her interest. Yet that was precisely what had happened. How could she bear to go on like this?
    It was a Saturday morning when Thea’s letter came. Venetia had just returned from a hot and dusty ride, needing, above all else, a long drink and a change into a thin dress. If one sweated, breeches were apt to chafe round the waist. Blake was in the hall, sorting over the mail on the yellow-wood table.
    “There’s one from Thea,” he said offhandedly. “It’s addressed to both of us. I’ve some others to look at, so you can read it first.”
    She took it and slit the envelope with the paper-knife he pushed close. Perhaps this epistle would provide an excuse to correspond with Thea and establish contact with the woman who was now her relative. Venetia began eagerly to read.
    Dear Both,—I think this will just about reach you before I do. Here’s some news, which I hope you will find good. Several weeks ago I applied for a post as Sister at the Ellisburg Hospital, but though I got the job we were so busy here that I couldn’t be spared. The thing seemed to have fallen through till yesterday, when I was informed that Ellisburg’s need of qualified nurses is tremendous and I had permission to cease duties and report to Ellisburg next Monday.
    I do hope this thrills you as it does me. I shall be travelling up on Saturday in the car, and will stay two nights with you—till Monday morning. Do you realize that you’ve been married six weeks, and I’ve never yet met my own sister-in-law? It’s scandalous, and I blame you for it, Blake. You were always far too possessive. Once I’m established at