Kingfisher Morning

Emma smiled, believing it to be very easy to become fond of Leon Daumaury. He had such a tired, desolate air at times. All his money could not armour him against personal loneliness.

Judith sank into a chair in front of the banked fire, stretching out her stockinged toes to the flames, her shoes kicked off casually into a corner.

'I'm dead beat! They whisked me out of hospital with the news, and I sat for the whole journey expecting the worst, only to find, when I finally got to him, that Father was already beginning to fight back. It will take more than a slight stroke to finish him!' Her face and voice expressed a shy pride. 'He's a tough old fellow, you know.'

'Toughness seems to be a family characteristic,' Emma said, thinking of Ross.

Judith stared, puzzled, then grinned. 'Oh, you're talking about my dear brother?'

'He has a hide like leather and a mind like the edge of a knife,' Emma said bitterly.

Judith gazed at her, wide-eyed. 'Oh…' For a few seconds she was quiet, her lips parted in surprised thought. Then she smiled warmly. 'I like you, Emma. By the way, Father likes you, too— he told me so tonight. He told Ross that if he married you he would cut him off without a farthing.'

Emma went scarlet, then white, her breath knocked out of her. Then she said weakly, 'Why on earth should he imagine that Ross and I…whatever did Ross say?'

'He said that since farthings were no longer legal tender he didn't give a hoot. If he wanted to marry you he would, and Father could put all his unwanted farthings into the poor box.'

Emma knotted her trembling fingers together. 'But there's no question of…I mean, Ross was joking. We're not…there's nothing between Ross and me.'

Judith peeped at her from between thick lashes. 'No? I didn't get that impression. The nurse was most upset about it all, but Father looked quite elated. He always enjoys a good squabble with Ross. It's the breath of life to him. Amanda, though…' Judith giggled. 'Amanda looked pretty sick about it all.'

'Amanda heard all this?' Emma was aghast. 'But, Judith, it's Amanda Ross loves, it's Amanda he'll marry…'

Judith yawned. 'Dear Emma, I must buy you a white stick and a guide dog. You're the blindest girl I've ever met.' She rose. 'I'm off to bed. Goodnight.'

Emma stared after her, confused and incredulous. What on earth did she mean?

She bent and attended to the fire, shovelling ash over the flames to make sure that they would not entirely consume the coal during the night, keeping the room warm so that in the morning they would get up and find the temperature comfortable. It was already beginning to be chilly in the early morning. Autumn would be upon them soon.

Then she went upstairs to bed, feeling depressed and weary. She was just getting in between the sheets when she heard a sound downstairs which alarmed her. Someone was moving about down there!

She tiptoed out and crept down the stairs. A light showed beneath the kitchen door. She got the poker from the sitting-room and crept slowly up to the kitchen door, paused, taking a deep breath, then flung it open and burst into the room, poker raised ready for use.

Ross was at the stove, frying himself an egg. He swung round, stared and burst out laughing.

'What's this? The Charge of the Light Brigade?'

Furiously she said, 'I thought you were a burglar! You're lucky I didn't break your head open with this!'

'I believe you,' he said mockingly. 'I know how you lay about you when roused, remember? What a terrifying girl you are! Fists one minute, pokers the next…I hate to think what married life will be like with a virago like you!'

She opened her eyes wide, flushing. 'That's never likely to concern you, so you needn't worry about it.'

'Oh, but it does,' he said, returning cheerfully to his cooking, his back towards her so that she could no longer see the expression on his face.

She bit her lip. Was he teasing her? 'It does?' she asked in faltering tones.

'I intend to marry you,' he said in a voice so casual that for a full moment she thought her ears were playing tricks.

Then her temper flared at the maddening self-confidence that could give birth to such a statement. 'Oh, you do?' Her voice quivered with rage. 'I presume that my opinions and wishes have nothing to do with the matter? You've decided to marry me, and that's that? Well, let me tell you something—I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in the world! I know why you've decided to marry me, you know!'

He finished his cooking, served the food on to a warm plate and slid it into the oven to keep warm. Then he turned and surveyed her, eyes mocking.

'So why do I want to marry you?'

'To irritate your father!'

He laughed out loud.