The Questing Heart by Elizabeth Ashton Read Free Book Online

her remaining time with Monica, she must endeavour to find out more about her prospective employer. Eustace Forbes, who had introduced him, might be able to give her some information. The generous remuneration offered had been a big inducement for during the past few months she had been sending money home. Mr Underwood was out of work and her mother had written a long wail, deploring her absence and the loss of her contribution to the housekeeping funds, demanding her return, but her father also wrote declaring that he could manage and it would be foolish to throw up a good job to help them when she might find herself unable to obtain another one. Clare had compromised by sending part of her monthly salary home, saying she had nothing to spend it on as she had her keep. This was not wholly true; she needed clothes and enjoyed occasional expeditions on the Riviera, and she was prudently trying to save for emergencies. Christopher's offer would make a great difference to her, but could she rely on him?
    She made several tentative attempts to elicit further details from him, but he brushed them off impatiently.
    'I've talked enough business for today,' he declared. 'We've come out to enjoy ourselves. Let's forget that such things as typewriters and play scripts exist and just amuse ourselves.'
    Clare was quite ready to fall in with his carefree mood, which was a novelty for her, as she was inclined to take even her pleasures seriously. He proved himself to be a most entertaining companion, and she did not mind his teasing, glad that she seemed to divert him. He varied Brown Sparrow with Little Puritan when she said something particularly naive, and she did not resent these appelations. She decided that he had not encountered many girls like herself in his world and her unsophistication had the charm of novelty. Unfortunately that would soon wear off upon continuing association, but under his tutelage she might acquire more poise, though she must not forget today was an exception and when she went to work for him, if she so decided, their connection would be much more formal.
    They did get as far as San Remo and looked in at the casino, but Chris did not play. He said it was uninspiring in the afternoon and he preferred to gamble in style when the participants wore evening dress, which produced the right atmosphere.
    They stopped on the way back to have a meal of seafood at an unpretentious restaurant on the Italian side of the border, though Clare never discovered the name of the town. The place, in spite of its humble appearances-produced an excellent repast, langouste salad with French dressing being what she remembered best. She did not notice how frequently Chris refilled her wine glass and he, associating her with Mrs Cullingford's lavish refreshments, did not realise that she was unused to alcohol. Soon she was seeing the universe through a golden haze and Chris tookon the semblance of a young god who had descended from » Olympus to honour a mortal maid.
    It was very late when they finally reached the villa which greeted them with darkened windows. Clare's mind was focussed upon their parting. When Christopher kissed her tonight, and she felt certain he would, she was sure she would be able to respond more adequately, and thus arouse him to greater ardour. She was viewing the prospect with pleasurable anticipation, but the wine she had drunk was affecting her, so much so that she was dazed and dreamy when he hauled her out of the car.
    As she stood swaying he stared at her in dismay.
    'Good lord, what have I done? It never occurred to me that Hebe couldn't take her wine. I thought you were used to it.'
    'Hebe, gods' cup-bearer,' Clare murmured in soft slurred accents. 'She didn't drink the nectar herself. Mrs Cull... Cullingford wouldn't allow.'
    'Mean old bitch!' He put a firm arm about her waist and piloted her towards the house. 'She shouldn't muzzle her ox.' He looked doubtfully at the closed appearance of the house.