He had just lost a battle he had been fighting for a few weeks, one he had first fought six years before. He hadfought himself, his base human nature, and he had lost. Hehad always known that it was possible to lust after whatone disliked and even despised. Had he not occasionallyover the years, despite all resolutions to the contrary, madeuse of the services of whores? And despised his own weakness every time afterward?
But he had never dwelled on the guilt of those encounters. It was after all part of the sexual nature of man to need woman.
This was different. Julia was a lady and an innocent despite her behavior. The first time she had been only fifteen years old to his own twenty-three. A girl he had dislikedand found completely lacking in manners and modesty. Agirl who was only just budding into womanhood. One hehad wanted with fierce heat. He had fought his own dualnature that summer and won. He was not even sure now ifshe had had anything to do with the fact that he had not returned for six years. He had never consciously thought so,but who knew what went on in the hidden chambers of theunconscious mind?
And now this year he disliked her and disapproved of her with many times the force he had felt all through her growing years. She was a woman now. She was supposed to be alady now. Like Camilla. Like Blanche. His dislike of herwas intense. But not as intense, it seemed, as his desire forher.
He had pursued her, she had said, not because she was a child in need of chastisement, but because she was a woman. Oh, God! He lowered his head until his forehead was resting on his knees. Could that be true?
God!
He had possessed many women, and had taken several of them with an energetic lust. He had never—not once—lostall touch with reality, been so absorbed with the woman inhis arms that sensation had deprived him of thought andreason. Not once until just now, that was. If they had not bythe purest coincidence both opened their eyes at the samemoment, then . . . There was no need to complete thethought. She certainly would not have stopped him. And hewas not going to throw all the blame on her for that, thoughhe believed he had done so in what he had said to her before she had got up and left. If she had been mindless of hervirtue, then he had been equally mindless of his self-respect.
God! Lord God. He was trying to keep his mind away from what he knew must be faced. He closed his eyes verytightly. No.
No. He would think of it later when he had had time to calm down. When he was able to think quite rationallyagain. Perhaps he would come to the wrong conclusions ifhe allowed himself to think now.
How could he come to the wrong conclusion? There was only one possible conclusion.
No. God! He scrambled to his feet and went in pursuit of his horse, which had wandered some distance away insearch of greener pastures. He would think of somethingelse, he thought as he mounted and settled himself in thesaddle. He would think of Vickers Abbey and Willowbunch, his new properties, which must be visited sometimeduring the summer. He would think of Blanche. No, not ofBlanche.
He would think of nothing, he thought, turning his horse’s head in the direction of the house and looking alongthe line of the hedge for a gate. But of course it was impossible to think of nothing. He would think of the impossibility of thinking nothing, then.
11
The sun broke through the clouds and finally dispersed them altogether early in the afternoon, bringing with it brightness and warmth. Aunt Sarah decided that theyshould all stroll down to the lake and have a picnic teabrought out there later. Uncle Henry pointed out, a twinklein his eye, that they hardly needed to organize an excursionto the lake as if it were a military exercise since it was amere mile away from the house, but Aunt Sarah bent aquelling looking on him, and he held his peace and meeklyfell in with her plans.
And so they all trooped down to the lake, two by two, just like the animals into the Ark, Frederick was heard toremark to Viola—very much sotto voce since Aunt Sarahhad the reputation of possessing the sharpest pair of ears inthe family.
Julia was dressed in flimsy white muslin with pink sash, slippers, and parasol. She had dressed with great care andtripped down the stairs and into the hall with determinedgaiety. Whom should she choose as a walking companion?Gussie? But no, everyone must realize that she was nottaking Gussie at all seriously as a suitor. Les? But she hadnot had time yet to think out her answer to his offer. Freddie was flirting with Viola, quite safely since Uncle Pauland Aunt Sylvia would not accept his suit in a millionyears. That left Malcolm.
And so all the way to the lake—it seemed more like five miles than one—she delivered a bright monologue on anyand every topic that presented itself to her mind, one armlinked through Malcolm’s, the other twirling her parasolabove her head. She did not even pause to find out if perhaps he had some interest in making it a conversation. Shetalked faster and twirled harder and smiled more brightlywhenever she fancied that the earl, who was escorting hismother, was glancing her way. But of course he was carefulto do no such thing.
Malcolm was a good-looking man, Julia thought, if a trifle too tall and thin. He would surely make a steady and dependable husband. Perhaps he would never talk a great deal, but she always had enough to say for two. Perhaps itwould work if she wanted it to. She wondered what itwould be like to kiss him. Would he open his mouth?Would he draw her body right against his? Would he tear atbuttons and put his hands where they had no businessbeing? No gentleman had ever done any of those things toher except... Or would he set his hands at her waist or onher shoulders and touch closed lips to hers? As every gentleman who had kissed her except one had done.
Perhaps she should lure him off into the trees, she thought, and seduce him. It should not be difficult to do—to lure him among the trees, that was. But try as she would,she could not imagine being kissed by Malcolm.
“Malcolm,” she said suddenly, breaking into her own monologue as they approached the lake, “have you everbeen in love?”
He looked down at her and flushed. “I-I,” he began and she was instantly sorry that she had asked him such a directand such a personal question. Poor Malcolm was so veryshy. “It depends on what you mean by the term, Julia.”
“Is there more than one meaning?” She had never thought of it before. What did it mean to be in love? Towant a man? She had wanted—oh, yes, quite voraciously—but her feelings could not at all be described as being inlove. To feel deep affection for a man? She felt deep affection for Gussie—and for Les. She was not in love with either. To feel wonderfully, blissfully happy? She could feelthat way when swimming or when gazing at a sunset. Shewas not in love with either the lake or the sun. “Oh, dear, Isuppose there is. It is really a meaningless phrase, is itnot?’
“L-love,” Malcolm said and then paused to swallow— twice. “Love is wanting to be with someone all the time. Itis accepting the other person with all good qualities and badand not wanting to change any of them. It is wanting togive affection and approval and comfort and everythingthat is oneself, demanding nothing in return. It is—love isvery difficult, Julia. It is an ideal, rarely achieved in realitybecause we are all selfish and imperfect beings. It is adream, a goal, something to be aimed for.”
Julia stared up at him. If she could string together all the words Malcolm had ever uttered to her, she did not believethey would be as many as he had delivered in this onespeech. And they were words of unexpected wisdom andinsight.
“Oh,” she said. There was no man she wanted to be with all the time—except perhaps Gussie. There was certainlyno man she could accept with all his faults and not want tochange them. She would never be able to accept Freddie'sgambling and womanizing or Les’s eternal good nature orMalcolm’s long silences. Or Daniel’s stuffy sense of whatwas right and proper for that matter. She would never beable to give and demand nothing in return. What if sheloved Daniel? It would be all give. All she would get in return was contempt and disapproval and demands that shechange and become a lady.Ifshe loved Daniel.
The sunshine was sparkling off the water of the lake. Daniel, Freddie, Uncle Paul, and Uncle Raymond were carrying the two boats from the boathouse.
“So being in love is not just the good feeling one gets when looking at or thinking of someone special?” she said.
“P-perhaps being i-in love is, Julia,” Malcolm said. “But l-loving is something d-different.”
Being loved by Malcolm would be something special, Julia thought in some surprise, looking at him with new andcurious eyes as they seated themselves on a blanket withUncle Henry, Aunt Roberta, and Stella—her in-laws if shewere to marry Malcolm. It was a strange, unreal thought. Stella and Aunt Roberta were smiling at her and UncleHenry was looking speculatively at Malcolm. Julia couldfeel herself flushing.
“The boats are out at last,” she said brightly. “It is the first time this year.”
