Read Online The Tender Winds of Spring by Joyce Dingwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Joyce Dingwell
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‘Can you honestly— honestly, Josephine, state that your fiancé is ready to marry you tomorrow? the day after? next week?’
‘I—we—well, we decided—’
‘Particularly accompanied, as you would be,’ Abel continued ruthlessly, ‘by three minors?’
‘He could,’ Jo said stubbornly. ‘Gavin could. You don’t even know him, so how can you talk like this?’
‘I know men, and of them I know only one who would be willing to marry you, children and all, at the same time unwilling.’
‘Willing ... unwilling ... what crazy talk is this?’
‘My talk. And that man was me. I proposed to you before. Remember? Now, in spite of my better judgment, I’m doing it again.’
‘Your better judgment?’ she queried.
‘Yes. Because I’d know that if you did accept me it would not be because of me.’
‘I wouldn’t accept you, but if I did you would be quite right, it would not be because of you but because of the children.’
‘Nor them either,’ he said frankly.
She looked up startled at that, and he continued:
‘Not them as children but as a trust passed on to you by your sister.’
‘You’re—you’re wrong.’
‘Am I?’
She found she could not answer. It was a trust, how could it be anything else so soon and with children so impossible? Angrily she flung:
‘Anyway, you’re only offering marriage—that is if you’re serious about that—’
‘I am.’
‘To help you escape that woman entanglement you mentioned.’
‘Well, it could come into it,’ he grinned.
‘I think you must be quite crazy!’
‘Nonetheless that offer stands ... that is if you can bear a madman. And do mark it down in your book this time. I don’t believe you did so before. You see, Josephine, if you’re serious about these three you’re going to need a man’s name.’
‘I already have Gavin’s, thank you. I mean I will.’
‘Useless,’ he told her. ‘I only saw the guy a moment, but I’d say he would want three youngsters as much as I want a rash.’
‘I—I don’t know how I put up with you,’ Jo cried. ‘I should have been honest with Gavin, I should have told him you were here. I’ll tell him tomorrow.’
‘And are you going to tell him all?’ he asked impertinently. ‘Tell him I was as near to you last night as a thin partition and through your special invitation?’ Before she could reply he went out of the house, leaving a furious Jo to cook a meal she felt would choke her and felt sure also the children would not touch.
But the children did. Hunger must have caught up with them, for they scraped their plates clean.
‘Where’s him?’ Sukey asked.
‘Not him, Sukey,’ Jo rebuked.
‘Where’s he?’
‘You mean Abel, I think.’
Dicky supplied an answer.
‘He’s having dinner up at the camp. He said to tell you.’
‘Well, you didn’t, did you?’ Jo felt sorry the moment she snapped it. These poor children, she must watch herself, watch her tongue. She must watch, too, those too-keen eyes of Abel Passant. ‘You want these children only as a trust passed on to you,’ he had said, and it had been true.
Wretchedly Jo looked at the children and knew it as the truth. She felt nothing at all for them save sympathy in the horror they, too, had suffered, and actually rather little of that, for in all her life she had never known such a—She had been about to think callous, but stopped it. Such a difficult trio, she substituted. Yet she still wanted them, had to want them, because of Gee. ‘They must like me,’ Gee had written, ‘because I love Mark.’
I suppose it’s only a trust from Gee, as he said, Jo mused, but all the same I’m going through with it. I must. Gavin, Gavin darling, please help!
The next day it seemed at first that Gavin would help. He came out, as he had promised, and because Abel had left early, Jo put off any telling she had to do until Abel’s presence made it necessary. Anyway, she would have had little chance. Gavin was in a
‘Can you honestly— honestly, Josephine, state that your fiancé is ready to marry you tomorrow? the day after? next week?’
‘I—we—well, we decided—’
‘Particularly accompanied, as you would be,’ Abel continued ruthlessly, ‘by three minors?’
‘He could,’ Jo said stubbornly. ‘Gavin could. You don’t even know him, so how can you talk like this?’
‘I know men, and of them I know only one who would be willing to marry you, children and all, at the same time unwilling.’
‘Willing ... unwilling ... what crazy talk is this?’
‘My talk. And that man was me. I proposed to you before. Remember? Now, in spite of my better judgment, I’m doing it again.’
‘Your better judgment?’ she queried.
‘Yes. Because I’d know that if you did accept me it would not be because of me.’
‘I wouldn’t accept you, but if I did you would be quite right, it would not be because of you but because of the children.’
‘Nor them either,’ he said frankly.
She looked up startled at that, and he continued:
‘Not them as children but as a trust passed on to you by your sister.’
‘You’re—you’re wrong.’
‘Am I?’
She found she could not answer. It was a trust, how could it be anything else so soon and with children so impossible? Angrily she flung:
‘Anyway, you’re only offering marriage—that is if you’re serious about that—’
‘I am.’
‘To help you escape that woman entanglement you mentioned.’
‘Well, it could come into it,’ he grinned.
‘I think you must be quite crazy!’
‘Nonetheless that offer stands ... that is if you can bear a madman. And do mark it down in your book this time. I don’t believe you did so before. You see, Josephine, if you’re serious about these three you’re going to need a man’s name.’
‘I already have Gavin’s, thank you. I mean I will.’
‘Useless,’ he told her. ‘I only saw the guy a moment, but I’d say he would want three youngsters as much as I want a rash.’
‘I—I don’t know how I put up with you,’ Jo cried. ‘I should have been honest with Gavin, I should have told him you were here. I’ll tell him tomorrow.’
‘And are you going to tell him all?’ he asked impertinently. ‘Tell him I was as near to you last night as a thin partition and through your special invitation?’ Before she could reply he went out of the house, leaving a furious Jo to cook a meal she felt would choke her and felt sure also the children would not touch.
But the children did. Hunger must have caught up with them, for they scraped their plates clean.
‘Where’s him?’ Sukey asked.
‘Not him, Sukey,’ Jo rebuked.
‘Where’s he?’
‘You mean Abel, I think.’
Dicky supplied an answer.
‘He’s having dinner up at the camp. He said to tell you.’
‘Well, you didn’t, did you?’ Jo felt sorry the moment she snapped it. These poor children, she must watch herself, watch her tongue. She must watch, too, those too-keen eyes of Abel Passant. ‘You want these children only as a trust passed on to you,’ he had said, and it had been true.
Wretchedly Jo looked at the children and knew it as the truth. She felt nothing at all for them save sympathy in the horror they, too, had suffered, and actually rather little of that, for in all her life she had never known such a—She had been about to think callous, but stopped it. Such a difficult trio, she substituted. Yet she still wanted them, had to want them, because of Gee. ‘They must like me,’ Gee had written, ‘because I love Mark.’
I suppose it’s only a trust from Gee, as he said, Jo mused, but all the same I’m going through with it. I must. Gavin, Gavin darling, please help!
The next day it seemed at first that Gavin would help. He came out, as he had promised, and because Abel had left early, Jo put off any telling she had to do until Abel’s presence made it necessary. Anyway, she would have had little chance. Gavin was in a
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