Brittle Bondage by Rosalind Brett Read Free Book Online Page A

Ellisburg, I intend to visit you often.
    Till Saturday, Venetia. Love to you both.
    Thea.
    Venetia made a small sound of sudden gladness.
    Blake looked up. “What is it?”
    “Thea’s coming—today.”
    ‘Today!” His features gone angular, he grasped the letter and scanned it, crushed it up in his hand. His mouth contracted into a hard line. “How dare she do that, after I’ve warned her not to come till she’s invited! ”
    “But she has to. Surely you wouldn’t have her stay at the hotel in Ellisburg?”
    “I wouldn’t care where she stayed,” he bit out. “If she weren’t already on the way, I’d wire her to spend the weekend elsewhere and to blazes with what she’d think of me. We’ll give her a meal, and then I’ll take her to a friend in town for the couple of days.”
    “Blake, you can’t!”
    “You’d be surprised how far I can go when my wishes are ignored. I won’t have her living here!”
    “But why? She’s your sister.”
    Swift anger burned in his face. “If you don’t know why,” he said, with merciless candour, “there’s nothing more to discuss. I shall give Thea to understand that we don’t want her.”
    Anxiety over the hurt he might inflict upon his unsuspecting sister gave her courage. Besides, she couldn’t bear to make another enemy.
    “You’re fond of Thea. You made this home for the two of you, and when she went to Durban you kept her room as she likes it, so that she would always have it to come to.” Her voice quivered. “You can’t treat her so unfairly. She belongs here, Blake.”
    He spoke curtly. “You’re well supplied with pride and sensibilities. You should be the last to dissuade me.”
    As if to leave the matter there, he shuffled the letters into a pile. Venetia bit on her lip, and twisted towards the porch.
    “So you really do intend to turn her away?”
    “I do.”
    “Because of me?”
    “I suppose that’s what it amounts to,” he admitted, and passed through into the lounge.
    Venetia paused in the doorway, her thirst and tiredness swamped in a wave of desolation and despair. To escape the oppression of the house, she went down into the garden and made her way along the path which passed the tennis-court and ended at the cement border to the swimming-pool. At her side padded the black spaniel, Binty. The dog always dragged himself to wherever she happened to be going.
    Wearily she collapsed upon the sloping grass bank, rested her cheeks between her palms and gazed at the semicircle of trees which cradled the pool. They were olives and cypresses, young, vigorous trees which Blake must have planted when the pool was made. A few leaves floated on the water.
    He loved this home and all the rich growth he had originated; how much more must he care for Thea, with whom he had planned to share them? But at the moment he wouldn’t allow himself to care for her.
    She—Venetia—had unwittingly stepped between Blake and his sister. Blake had done what he deemed his duty, and married her; perhaps, a long time hence, she could come near to understanding him and making him happy. A long time hence. But the problem of Thea could not be shouldered off into the limbo like that. In a few hours she would pull up in the drive expecting to be welcomed. She was entitled to a warm welcome. That she should be greeted coolly and told not to unpack was unthinkable, yet Venetia was miserably certain that Blake would have no compunction in showing Thea the door. He would carry it off courteously and with a smile, but no amount of chivalry would disguise the ruthlessness behind his actions. Thea would know at once that she wasn’t wanted, and, being an intelligent woman, she would not have to seek far for the reason.
    For a time Venetia stayed there, too drugged by heat and hopelessness to stir. The spaniel stretched and lumbered to the pool. Ungracefully he plopped into the water, but as his body cooled, he swam strongly, yelping at her to throw him a stick. Venetia