No Other Haven by Kathryn Blair Read Free Book Online Page A

the drawing room?”
    As the boy began his ponderous, prepared answer, a door swung back and Stuart’s mother stood there, taller than Lindsey and surprisingly slim, her smile so much like his that, involuntarily, Lindsey turned to compare them.
    In appearance at least there was nothing to mark Mrs. Conlowe as Colonial, She wore tailored navy linen with a square diamond brooch. Her hair, swept up from a pale, serene forehead into a light silky roll, was still mahogany brown at-the back. If she was sixty, she carried the years easily and with grace and charm.
    Quickly, Stuart kissed her.
    “You look blooming, darling. Sorry we’re late.”
    “I should think so. I waited on the veranda till the damp came up.” Keeping a hand on his arm she faced Lindsey with the familiar smile. “Pretty was an under s tatement, Stuart! Lindsey’s very much more than that.”
    He dug his hands into his pockets and regarded them both with gentle mockery.
    “Yes, isn’t she? Who’d ever have thought I’d marry a redhead?”
    “It isn’t red,” said his mother . “By daylight I’m sure it’s the soft tawny shade that some English birds have — I forget what they’re called. Pardon us for discussing you like this, Lindsey. Julius will take your coat. Come in and have a drink and let me get a really good look at you both.”
    Lindsey could not at once soak in the details of the drawing room. White walls and white sheepskin rugs, beige tweed upholstery, another confusion of flowers on an inlaid table and exotic vermilion notes in curtains and cushions. At the far end of the long room glass doors shut off the sun lounge.
    “Give the cocktails a final shake, Stuart. Sit in the divan with me, Lindsey. I do hope you’re going to like Port Acland enough to persuade Stuart to settle here. He’s always been so restless, but I’m expecting great things from your influence. Tell me about your house.”
    “It’s roomy and very comfortable, and rather amusing.”
    “I expect you know it,” said Stuart. “ ‘Elliotdale,’ on the last stretch of the Beechwood road.”
    “So far? Surely you could have done better than that! Poor Lindsey, stuck out in the veld.”
    “We h ad to arrange it by telephone from Cape Town, remember.”
    “Couldn’t you have tolerated a week with me while you looked around?”
    “Furnished houses don’t grow on trees. I snapped it up.”
    “You know best, darling. I was only thinking of Lindsey in a strange country, though no doubt she’s getting used to being bossed about and told what’s good for her. But I warn you, Stuart”—with a playful tap as she took a cocktail from him—“young wives have been known to resent incarceration. You must buy Lindsey a car of her own.”
    “I shall do nothing of the kind,” he said pleasantly. “The roads into the town are steep and donkey-ridden, and women have been known to lose their heads over less than a donkey.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to my two girls.”
    Mrs. Conlowe leaned back in her corner , scanning his face. She had never pried and clung and demanded his confidence, but she considered herself entitled to a motherly curiosity.
    “Why didn’t you cable as soon as you’d decided to get married?”
    His expression did not alter. “You like surprises. What more enchanting surprise than a ready-made daughter-in-law?”
    “I agree. But after that last letter from you in London, I thought ... ”
    “Just be grateful, my sweet,” he interrupted as he twisted to refill the glasses. “Lindsey blushes very easily.”
    His mother laughed, and Lindsey, who had indeed sprung a coin of color in each cheek, blamed the cocktail and firmly refused a second.
    Over dinner the conversation was light. Lindsey wondered if she would ever get used to colored boys serving her food and standing away in the shadows between times. Apparently Mrs. Conlowe employed a regiment, for she talked of Zulani and Jacob, Julius and Smita, who were old employees, and