“Yes: Nick’s cruising with some friends in the Mediterranean.”
Ursula’s shallow gaze deepened singularly. “But, Susy darling, then if you’re alone—and out of a job, just for the moment?”
Susy smiled. “Well, I’m not sure.”
“Oh, but if you are, darling, and you would come to Ruan! I know Fred asked you didn’t he? And he told me that both you and Nick had refused. He was awfully huffed at your not coming; but I suppose that was because Nick had other plans. We couldn’t have him now, because there’s no room for another gun; but since he’s not here, and you’re free, why you know, dearest, don’t you, how we’d love to have you? Fred would be too glad—too outrageously glad—but you don’t much mind Fred’s love-making, do you? And you’d be such a help to me—if that’s any argument! With that big house full of men, and people flocking over every night to dine, and Fred caring only for sport, and Nerone simply loathing it and ridiculing it, and not a minute to myself to try to keep him in a good humour.... Oh, Susy darling, don’t say no, but let me telephone at once for a place in the train to-morrow night!”
Susy leaned back, letting the ash lengthen on her cigarette. How familiar, how hatefully familiar, was that old appeal! Ursula felt the pressing need of someone to flirt with Fred for a few weeks... and here was the very person she needed. Susy shivered at the thought. She had never really meant to go to Ruan. She had simply used the moor as a pretext when Violet Melrose had gently put her out of doors. Rather than do what Ursula asked she would borrow a few hundred pounds of Strefford, as he had suggested, and then look about for some temporary occupation until—
Until she became Lady Altringham? Well, perhaps. At any rate, she was not going back to slave for Ursula.
She shook her head with a faint smile. “I’m so sorry, Ursula: of course I want awfully to oblige you—”
Mrs. Gillow’s gaze grew reproachful. “I should have supposed you would,” she murmured. Susy, meeting her eyes, looked into them down a long vista of favours bestowed, and perceived that Ursula was not the woman to forget on which side the obligation lay between them.
Susy hesitated: she remembered the weeks of ecstasy she had owed to the Gillows’ wedding cheque, and it hurt her to appear ungrateful.
“If I could, Ursula... but really... I’m not free at the moment.” She paused, and then took an abrupt decision. “The fact is, I’m waiting here to see Strefford.”