Chapter 13
The storm didn't let up till nearly dawn, but Eleanor Landers wasn't at all disappointed by the inclement weather. It had made Mark Torrance tarry longer than he had planned, and the brass-frame bed was a thrilling haven. He was a demanding and magnificently capable lover, whose almost boyish gusto and inventive romanticism made it very easy for her to forget Henri de Rochembeau. Despite her demi-vierge proclivities, the green-eyed redhead had no difficulty in adapting herself to his ardent lovemaking; she was exhilarated by her belief that she had completely conquered him (the lasting evidence lay hidden in her purse) as much as by her own gloating sense of erotic superiority over Kathy. Thus she gave the semblance of being totally generous and uninhibited, and when at last Mark murmured, "Darling, the storm's over and I'd better be getting you back to Marwell," she sighed dreamily, "Oh, darling, is it over so soon?" Sprawled in delicious languor, her fingers gently stroking his face, her loosened coppery hair tumbling over one rhythmically swelling creamy breast, she felt totally at peace with the world; she had achieved all her goals.
Except one-the permanent relegation of Kathy Edwards to the sidelines. She hadn't forgotten the humiliating moment of being laughed at down there in the recreation room. That little snip had had the audacity to giggle at her. Well, she herself would have the last laugh. If she could induce Deeana Mason to make the initiation tough on Kathy, that would be sweet revenge, the frosting on the cake she had just shared with Mark Torrance.
Languidly, she swung her nylon-sheathed legs down from the bed, reached for her purse and snapped it shut. "I do so hate to leave this lovely place, darling," she murmured wistfully, bending down to kiss him as he reached up for her, his hands fondling the ripe gourds of her swelling breasts. "I'll never forget this night we've had. And we can't do this again, my very dearest, till after Hell Week...till maybe you decide I'd be the right one to share this house with you later on."
"Right now I haven't any doubts," he lazily murmured, pulling her down for a last long kiss. She smiled beatifically. There was no need to deny him anything-for now. But next Monday, when she came to class, it would be once again as a student, and there would be nothing more between them till he made that proposal official. And if he didn't, she had the reminder that she needed to compel him to keep his word.
They walked back through the cornfield. The roseate ball of the early sun was rising in the east, and the sky was clear. The air felt fresh and cool and moist from the rain, and she inhaled it sensually. She'd pinned up her hair before leaving the farmhouse; it was a kind of symbol. Just as she had restored the unruffled propriety of her coiffure, so she had terminated till further notice the secret clamoring urgency of her blood and flesh. She thought she had handled the situation extremely well; Mark Torrance knew the scope of her latent passion as a lover, yet he would respect her intention to remain chaste till he could formally and legally make her his lasting love. To agree to another tryst would have been to intimate that she was wanton with her favors.
He stopped at a service station on the highway for gas and oil while she disappeared to freshen herself. When she emerged, her make-up was bright enough to belie the shadows of that night-long wooing, and she had resumed her aloof, cool poise of bearing and conversation. He glanced at her admiringly. She had been a wonderful love partner, unexpectedly so. He had been spellbound by the uninhibited ardor she had displayed towards him; it had flattered his male ego and also banished the spectre of Jacqueline Mobry. He thought that he was very much in love with Eleanor Landers.
He let her out of the car a block away from the little restaurant across the street from the garage where she parked the Thunderbird, for she wanted breakfast. A quick kiss, a whispered phrase of homage, a promise to meet again after Hell Week when perhaps they could openly declare their affection for each other, and then he drove back to Faculty Row, drowsy and happy with fulfillment. Eleanor stood outside the restaurant, her lips pursed in a satisfied smile. And once again her green eyes narrowed in calculation...
When she got back to the DGT house about nine, Cissy Williams was waiting for her, lips tight with disapproval. "Deeana wants to see you pronto, pledge," she snapped.
"Oh? Do you know what it's about, Cissy?"
"I can tell you in advance, Landers. You're not supposed to date till after Hell Week, you know that. That's two Friday nights in a row you've been out, and this time you made it an all-night job. Better have a good story ready for Deeana, I can tell you. We don't like rule-breakers at DGT." Cissy sniffed and walked away. Eleanor made a few behind her back. Who did she think she was, anyhow? Deeana was her Big Sister, and there wouldn't be any problem at all. Oh, yes, that little present; now was the propitious time to bestow it. She went upstairs to her room, got the wrapped parcel, and brought it back down to Deeana's room. The door was closed, so she knocked and was told to come in.
"Oh, hi, Deeana. Cissy says you wanted to see me," Eleanor tried to look especially meek.
Deeana Mason was wearing tailored slacks and pullover blue wool sweater with the Greek letters of the sorority sewn across the bosom in bright red. She frowned, lit a cigarette and gestured to the davenport. "Sit down, Eleanor. I have to say this for the sake of the other girls. Last week, you told me you went to see a relative, and you explained about Dave Vandenburg. That was all right. The only trouble is, last night you were gone again and you're just now getting in. Besides Cissy, Marian and a few other girls noticed it, and they started talking. You're a big girl, Eleanor, and you know the rules, and I don't want to have to take any disciplinary action till I hear your explanation. But please, next time you feel like taking off, do me the courtesy of asking my permission in advance. It's just good common sense to stop a lot of idle rumors. And you know how rumors spread around a small-town campus."
This last, the redhead sensed, was a sly dig at her drainpipe stunt with Tom Jenkins. "First, may I give you this, Deeana," she purred placatingly, handing the wrapped parcel to the sandy-haired prexy. "I got it in Chicago last Saturday when I went up to see my folks, because I thought you'd like it. And I wanted to show my appreciation for the interest you've shown in me."
"You didn't have to do this, Eleanor." Deeana, seated beside her on the davenport, unwrapped the parcel. "No, really, I shouldn't accept this. It's too obvious."
"I'd want to give it to you anyway even if you weren't the president, Dee," Eleanor wheedled with her sweetest smile. "I count you as a friend, and I always give my friends little mementos-please say you'll keep it."
"We'll talk about it later. But for now, suppose you tell me why you were out all night. And I want the truth, Eleanor," Deeana said gravely.
Eleanor bit her lips, frantically groping. Then it came to her: why not tell the truth? It couldn't be challenged, and Deeana would keep the secret. As one woman to another and head of the snootiest Greek letter house on campus, it stood to reason she'd have to admire
Eleanor's making off with Marwell's most eligible bachelor.
"All right, if you promise never to tell anybody else, I'll tell you, Dee," she began after a dramatic pause.
"So you did have a date last night!" Deeana Mason sternly interposed.
"Yes, but I still didn't break the DGT rule, Dee. Listen. It wasn't with any boy on campus, I swear it on the Bible. It-it was with one of the faculty. Now, is that breaking the rule?"
"That's hedging, and you know it. But we'll bypass that for the moment. With whom was your date, Eleanor? You've my word I won't tell anybody else. But as head of this house, I've the right to know."
"Yes, of course you do, Dee. And I'm going to tell you. It-it was with Professor Mark Torrance."
Seeing Deeana's eyes widen and her brows arch with surprise, the redhead giggled triumphantly, pleased with the effect she had created. "You can see why I had to tell the girls-and even you-last week that I was seeing a relative. I didn't want to do anything to hurt Mark, now that we mean so much to each other."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, I don't usually discuss my most intimate affairs, Dee, but with you it's different. If you'll promise to keep it a secret till we formally announce our engagement, I can tell you this in confidence-Mark and I are going to be married."
"Married?" Deeana echoed, her face tense.
Eleanor nodded gleefully. "I'm so happy, and I'm glad you're the very first to know."
"Did he actually propose, Eleanor?"
"In bed, when we were making out." Eleanor gave Deeana a worldly wink, slow-lidded and mocking. "But he won't forget, even if he was under the influence of being all sexed up. Little Eleanor isn't a silly round-heeled ing‚nue with ideals, you know, Dee. I had a tape recorder with me. In my purse. It's got a very sensitive mike, and I'm sure it picked up everything we both said. And he said plenty. Now you know."
"Yes," Deeana Mason murmured, almost like a robot, "now I know."
"And you won't kick me out of DGT? Because, after all, I really didn't break the rule. I'm not boy-hunting, I got my man, so I don't need to spread myself around."
"No, you certainly don't," Deeana frostily agreed. "And I shan't discuss this with any of the girls. I'm satisfied with your explanation, Eleanor. I don't think you'd lie and involve Professor Torrance just to save getting kicked out of DGT."
"Of course I wouldn't, Dee honey. It means too much to me to belong to the best house on campus. It's a privilege."
"That it surely is," Deeana nodded solemnly," and that's why we don't invite many pledges each new term. We want to screen just those who'll make members we can be proud of representing our chapter. I just want you to remember that, Eleanor."
The redhead rose from the davenport, smoothing her skirt. "I will, I promise. Is that all, Dee?"
"Yes, I think so."
"And you'll keep my gift? I swear it's not a bribe."
"By your standards, it isn't. Let's say I'll keep it for the house and let everyone enjoy it."
Eleanor eyed the sandy-haired senior, then imperceptibly shrugged her soft rounded shoulders. "Sure. Maybe that's better, now that I think of it. But I meant the part I said about being grateful to you, Dee."
"Thank you. Oh-wait a minute, there was something else I wanted to ask you, after all, Eleanor."
"Yes?" The redhead turned from the door, eyes questioning.
"Remember that letter I gave you to mail last Sunday?"
"Uh huh." Color momentarily flooded Eleanor's creamy cheeks as she was caught off guard. But she hadn't relaxed so completely after passing this ordeal that her wits weren't quickly reliable: "Kathy was going out before I was, as it turned out, so I had her drop it in the box. I guess I ought to have told you. But I'm sure it's mailed."
"I guess so. Well, fine, Eleanor. And congratulations on last night. He's quite a guy, that Professor Torrance. We all like him and want him to stay with us. Maybe you'll be the one who helps keep him on campus for a long time."
"I'm sure going to try, Dee. And thanks for being so swell about everything," Eleanor smilingly nodded, and left the room, closing the door behind her.
She didn't see Deeana Mason get up from the davenport, cross over to the wastebasket, and drop the transistorized pocket radio into it with a grimace of distaste. Her own expression, as she went back to her room, was that of the proverbial cat that has swallowed the canary.