"I want to talk to you," said Tybalt. "It's important."
We went out of the house together and when we had walked a little distance from it, Tybalt said: "He's right you know. We should."
"I ... I don't understand."
"Why, Judith, what has happened to you? You are usually so forthright."
"I ... I didn't know you knew so much about me."
"I know a great deal about you. It's a good many years since I first met you disguised as a mummy."
"You will never forget that."
"One doesn't forget one's first meeting with one's wife." But . . .
"It's what he meant. He was telling us that we should marry."
"He was wandering in his mind."
"I don't think he was. I think it has been his wish for some time."
"It is becoming clear to me. He thought I was Theodosia. He had hoped that you and Theodosia would marry. You did know that, didn't you?"
"I think it was talked over with my father."
"So . . . you see what happened. He had forgotten that Theodosia was married. He thought that I was his daughter. Poor Sir Ralph. I'm afraid he is very ill."
"He is going to die, I fear," replied Tybalt. "You have always been interested in my work, haven't you, vitally interested?"
"Why yes."
"You see, we should get on very well. My mother was bored by my father's work. It was a very dismal marriage. It will be different with us."
"I don't understand this. Do you mean that you will marry me because Sir Ralph has implied that he wants you to?"
"That's not the only reason, of course."
"Tell me some others," I said.
"For one, when I leave for Egypt, you could come with me. You would be pleased by that, I'm sure."
"Yet, even that does not seem to me an adequate reason for marrying."
He stopped and faced me. "There are others," he said, and drew me close to him.
I said: "I would not wish to marry because I would be a useful member of an expedition."
"Nevertheless," he replied, "you would be."
Then he kissed me.
"If love came into it ..." I began.
Then he laughed and held me tightly against him.
"Do you doubt that it does?"
"I am undecided and I should like some sort of declaration."
"First let me have one from you because I'm sure you will do so better than I. You're never at a loss for words. I'm afraid I am . . . often."
"Then perhaps I shall be even more useful to you. Writing your letters, for instance. I shall be a good secretary."
"Is that your declaration?"
"I suppose you know that I have been in love with you for years. Sir Ralph knew it, I believe."
"I had no idea I was so fortunate! I wish I had known before."
"What would you have done?"
"Asked myself whether if you knew me better you might have changed your mind, and wondered whether I dared allow that to happen."
"Are you really so modest?"
"No. I shall be the most arrogant man in your life."
"There are no others of any importance . . . and never have been. I shall spend my life if necessary convincing you of that."
"So you agree to share it with me?"
"I would die rather than do anything else."
"My dearest Judith! Did I not say that you had a way with words!"
"I have told you quite frankly that I love you. I should like to hear you say that you love me."
"Have I not made it clear to you that I do?"
"I should love to hear you say it."
"I love you," he said.
"Say it again. Keep saying it. I have so long dreamed of your saying those words. I can't believe this is really true. I am awake now, am I? I'm not going to wake up in a minute to hear Lady Bodrean ringing the bell?"
He took my hand and kissed it fervently. "My dear dear Judith," he said. "You put me to shame. I don't deserve you. Don't think too highly of me. I shall disappoint you. You know my obsession with work, I shall bore you with my enthusiasms."
"Never."
"I shall be an inadequate husband. I have not your gaiety, your spontaneity, everything that makes you so attractive. I can be dull, far too serious . . ."
"One can never be too serious about the important things of life."
"I shall be moody, preoccupied. I shall neglect you for my work."
"Which I intend to share with you, including the moods and the preoccupation, so that objection is overruled."
"I am not able to express my feelings easily. I shall forget to tell you how much I love you. You alarm me. You are carried away by your enthusiasms always. You think too highly of me. You hope for perfection."
I laughed as I laid my head against him. "I can't help my feelings," I said. "I have loved you so long. I only want to be with you, to share your life, to make you happy, to make your life smooth and easy and just as you wish it to be."
"Judith," he said, "I will do my best to make you happy."
"If you love me, if you allow me to share your life, I shall be that."
He slipped his arm through mine and gripped my hand tightly.
We walked on and he talked of the future. He saw no reason why our marriage should be delayed; in fact he would like it to take place as soon as possible. We were going to be very busy with our plans. Would I mind if after the ceremony we stayed at Giza House and plunged straight into our arrangements?
Would I mind? I cared for nothing as long as I could be with him. The greatest joy which could come to me was to share his life forevermore.
There was astonishment at Rainbow Cottage when I told Dorcas and Alison my news. They were glad that I was to be married but they were a little dubious about my bridegroom. Oliver Shrimpton would have been so much more eligible in their opinion; and the rumors in St. Erno's were that the Traverses were rather odd people. And now that Sir Edward had died so mysteriously they felt that they would have preferred me not to be connected with such a mysterious affair.
"You'll be Lady Travers," said Alison.
"I hadn't thought of that."
Dorcas shook her head. "You're happy. I can see that."
"Oh Dorcas, Alison, I never thought it possible to be so happy."
"Now, now," said Dorcas, as she used to when I was a child. "You could never do things by halves."
"Surely one should not contemplate marriage 'by halves' as you say."
"No, but you hope for too much. You think everything's going to be perfect."
I laughed at her. "In this marriage," I said, "everything is."
I said nothing at Keverall Court about my engagement. It hardly seemed appropriate with Sir Ralph so ill; and the next day he died.
Keverall Court was in mourning, but I don't think anyone missed Sir Ralph as much as I did. The great joy of my engagement was overshadowed. But at least, I thought, he would have been pleased. He had been my friend, and during the weeks before his death, our friendship had meant a good deal to me, as I believed it had to him. How I wished that I could have sat in his room and told him of my engagement and all that I hoped to do in the future. I thought of him a great deal and remembered incidents from the past—when I had brought the bronze shield to him and he had first become interested in me, how he had given me a ball dress and had defended me afterwards.
Lady Bodrean put on a sorrowing countenance but it was clear that it hid a relief.
She talked to me and to Jane about the virtues of Sir Ralph; but I sensed that the lull in her hostility to me was momentary and she was promising herself that now that I had lost my champion I should be at her mercy. Little did she know the blow I was about to deliver. I was to be married to the man whom she had wanted for her daughter.
It was going to be a great shock to her to learn that her poor companion would soon be Lady Travers.