Chapter 13
The pre-wedding festivities culminated in the bride's dinner, given by her attendants; and the groom's dinner, tendered by the masculine members of the wedding party.
Mrs. Leslie, who had been quite cool and formal to Gayle since her outburst at lunch the day before, had laid down a rule for the bride's dinner. It was that it should end at exactly midnight, so that Sue could get a full eight hours sleep before the wedding at four o'clock the following afternoon.
"I will not have Sue-and the rest of you walking down the aisle in church tomorrow afternoon looking like an assembly of hags!" she told them firmly, when they had assembled in the private dining room of the Club where the party was being given. "Every single one of you must be home and in bed by midnight, mind you-or I shall lead a mass meeting of mothers here to drag you all home by your pretty ears!"
The girls chorused a bright, laughing assurance of compliance with the order and Mrs. Leslie smiled and went out to her waiting car where several of her old friends were waiting for her, to "sit with her" over a typical feminine meal of salad and tea, while they hashed and rehashed all the wedding details and plans.
Gayle, from her position at the head of the table, with Sue on her right, looked down the length of the elaborately decorated table. The fifteen girls who, with herself as maid of honor, would see Sue well and truly married tomorrow. By this time tomorrow night, Sue would be a married woman, facing the ordeal of her wedding night of which she had admittedly shrank in repulsion. Gayle smothered a small, malicious grin. If the bachelor's dinner tonight followed the usual trend, Clyde would be nursing the biggest of all hangovers and Sue might find the ordeal even more excruciating than even her fears had warned her.
Gayle smiled secretly in enjoyment of the prospect. She looked around the table, at the lovely frocks, the pretty chattering girls; and wondered how many of them were virgins. She couldn't believe many of them were; yet they had been brought up as Sue had been, taught that "sex" was a dirty word, and that "no nice girl enjoyed it."
"I could split my girdle laughing at that," Gayle told herself. "The poor damned fools! What they need is a session or two in some good, high class house where they could be taught the facts of life in a big way. They'd be a damned sight more likely to keep their husbands satisfied and at home!"
She would have no difficulty with Don, she was smugly sure.
She listened politely to the gay little speeches, the innocuously "daring" toasts; to the "naughty stories" told adventurously by one girl after another and listened to the pseudo-shocked screams of laughter-and was bored to tears. She fought against the temptation to tell them a few stories that she felt sure would set the wave in their carefully tended hair. But she managed to restrain the impulse. She had to keep on wearing her mask for a little while longer; but, brother, would it be a relief to open the eyes and ears of these simple-minded saps!
She was passionately relieved when, at long last, the party broke up and she and Sue were stepping into the Leslie limousine to be driven home by the sleepy-eyed, middle-aged chauffeur.
As they climbed the stairs, and paused in front of the door to Gayle's room, Sue looked uncertainly at Gayle.
"It was-I-a nice party, wasn't it?" she hazarded and then managed a smile. "That is, I suppose it was. I'm so nearly out on my feet that all parties look pretty much alike to me now. You and Don are being smart to elope."
"Smart? We'll be damned lucky to make it with your mother blowing her top-" snapped Gayle, and caught herself up just before she could finish, not quite daring to risk the bitterness she knew would express itself in words that would shock Sue to her toes.
"I know," said Sue softly, almost humbly. "Poor Mother. I'm terribly sorry, Gayle-"
"I bet you are," said Gayle through her teeth, and because she could not trust herself to stand there indulging in light chit-chat lest she spit out some of her angry venom, she opened her door, said a casual good night and walked into her room.
She heard Sue's light footsteps crossing the hall to her own room, and without turning on the lights, she crossed to a chair beside the window and dropped into it. She lit a cigarette and looked out into the starlit night.
She wanted a drink. Brother, how she wanted a drink! Something to wash the taste out of her mouth of the sweet, insipid drinks-wine, for Pete's sake!-that had been served at the dinner. Something long and tall and icy cold that would make her insulted stomach sit up and yip with delight.
She looked out over the lawn towards the path that led to the guest cottage. Don might be back from the bachelor's dinner by now, and that was a very tidily equipped bar he had; and at the thought of joining Don for a goodnight drink, her mouth curled a little in delighted anticipation. After all-why not? No one would ever know. She could slip out of the side door, and leave it unlatched so that she could get back in before anyone discovered her absence. And maybe Don would be as glad to see her as she was to see him-she chuckled a little, fondly, at the thought for Don couldn't possibly want to be with her as badly as she wanted to be with him! Men thought they had a monopoly on passion! The poor, dear damned fools! But then maybe it was better that they thought so; a woman would be a fool to let a man know she wanted him even more than he wanted her-or would she? That was a thought she'd consider at length later on, she promised herself, laughing a little as she stood up and out of her frail, filmy frock. She tossed it across the bed, and went to the closet for smartly cut dark blue slacks, and a thin shirt that hugged her enticing breasts lovingly. Moccasins of soft brown leather made it possible for her to slip through the sleeping house and down the stairs without a sound.
The side door was unlocked and she was pleased about that. A servant had been careless, but that was all to the good tonight! She took the key out of the lock and slipped it into her pocket, just on the chance that the careless servant might remember inconveniently and thinking everyone was in, come down to lock the door.
Outside, the night was warm and the stars shone brightly but the moon had already set. The path through the woods was a pahd glimmer but she felt she could have followed it blindfold because it led to Don. Her heart sang in her breast and she refused to face the possibility that Don had not yet returned from the bachelor dinner.
She came to the curve in the path and the gay little guest house stood in its neat setting of carefully trimmed lawn and shrubs. And there were lights; soft amber light that spilled through the casement windows that were open to the fragrant night.
Her heart leaped with delight and she had already forgotten that she wanted a drink. She didn't want a drink half as bad as she wanted Don's arms about her, Don's desire rising to meet and fulfill her own that was hammering in her blood like the savage beat of jungle drums.
But before she came to the door of the little house, she heard voices and came to a full stop, and her silly heart fell flat on its face.
For Don wasn't alone!
She mustn't go barging in until she knew who was with him and maybe when she knew that she would have to go back to the house without seeing him, without the drink that had been the ostensible reason for her coming, but more than that, without the hour or more of passionate love in his arms for which she had really been driven here by the fire in her blood.
She paused on the edge of the walk, and drew a deep breath. And then she crept across the grass on silent, careful feet until she stood near enough to the open window to be able to look inside the lamp-lit living room of the guest cottage.
What she saw made her catch her breath in a sharp gasp of startled rage that, for a moment, robbed her of all power of motion or speech.
Sue stood facing Don still in the filmy powder blue chiffon dress she had worn for the dinner party. Don's back was to Gayle, where she stood at the window, but Sue's face was revealed to her and what she saw in that face was enough to make her grind her teeth with rage, while she strained her ears to hear whatever it was that Sue was saying, to which Don was listening so that his very back was rigid.
"Oh, Don darling." Sue's voice was warm and soft and caught with tears. "I know it's an awful thing to have to admit, when this time tomorrow I'll be-Clyde's wife!"
She caught her breath and a small shiver sped over her and her eyes widened a little, and when she spoke again her voice was low, husky.
"If-you could possibly know how that thought-terrifies me-"
"Clyde worships you, Sue." Don's voice was taut and in it Gayle caught something of Don's savage hunger for Sue and she had to set her teeth hard in her lower Up to keep from screaming out her rage and jealousy. But she held herself taut and still, determined to see just how far Sue would go.
"I know-oh, Don, don't you suppose I've lain awake nights grieving about that-" stammered Sue and a great crystal tear forced its way between her closed eyes and slid down her flushed cheek.
"Grieving?" Don repeated sharply as though he found the word difficult to understand.
"Because-I know I can't-destroy him by letting him know-now!-that I don't love him-"
"Oh, come now, Sue-" Don's protest was half-hearted and completely unconvincing.
"I know I don't love him, Don darling-because if I did-the way a woman should love the man she is going to marry-I'd-I'd be-well, looking forward to my wedding night, wouldn't I?" she stammered miserably. Don said tautly, "It's-customary, I believe."
"I'm-I'm terrified of it, Don-" Sue put up her white, shaking hands on which Clyde's beautifully cut diamond twinkled with malicious fire, and covered her eyes.
Gayle stood rigid, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, watching them, murder in her heart. The witch! The complete witch!
"Oh, but, look, Sue dear," Don tried awkwardly to explain something he felt her mother should have explained to her long ago, "all-well, decent girls like you-feel that way-I mean-well, you've been brought up in an old-fashioned way-and-well, I think they call it bride's jitters, don't they? Though of course I'm afraid I wouldn't know much about it-"
Sue's hands dropped from her white, tear-stained face and twisted together in an agony of effort at self-control and when she spoke, she controlled her voice with such an effort that it sounded a little harsh.
"But-you see, Don, if-if I were-marrying you-I wouldn't have any-jitters-" she stammered, and Gayle saw Don's rigid back suddenly move a little as though he had been violently shaken.
"Sue!" It seemed to be wrung from him in an almost desperate necessity for some protest that was only halfhearted but that he felt he must make.
Sue flung out her shaking hands in a little gesture of helplessness.
"Oh, I know, darling-that's-shocking, isn't it? But-don't you see, darling? I know now-when it's much too late-that I don't love Clyde at all-"
"Of course you do-"
"I know now," Sue rushed on, as though he had not spoken, "that I love you-because I-I want-my wedding night with you and the thought of spending it with Clyde-oh, Don, I'd rather-die!"
And suddenly she was in tears, half hysterical, shaking, and Don took a single stride towards her and caught her close in his arms, soothing her with broken words of endearment and tenderness, holding her very close to him, so that when she lifted her tear-stained face, her mouth was only an inch below his own, and Don's mouth closed upon it and they were rocked by a storm of passion so obvious to the watching, furious Gayle that it was like a gust of savage wind that practically blew her into the room.
"What the hell's going on here?" she blazed as she came through the open door.
Sue gave a little thin scream of dismay and jerked herself guiltily free of Don's arms, and Don whirled to face Gayle, who had never, in the grip of her blind fury and jealousy, looked less beautiful.
"I didn't hear you knock," said Don savagely, through his teeth, as he glared angrily at her.
"Knock?" Gayle stared at him in rage. "I'll knock her damned brains out if she doesn't keep her slimy paws off you!"
Sue gave a little stricken moan of dismay and shame, and covered her face with her hands. And Gayle strode towards her, but before she could come within reach of her, Don's hand shot out and caught her and held her despite her struggles.
"I'll scratch her eyes out, the stinkin' little witch!" she raged, struggling against Don's angry grip that was bruising her arms. "You damned little two-bit slut! Sneaking down here to fool around with Don knowing he's my man-and you with a man of your own-why, you-"
Don's free hand closed over her writhing mouth and his arm went roughly about her, holding her, until Sue, with a little sick look of distaste and horror, turned and ran out of the room.
Don flung Gayle unceremoniously from him so that she veered violently against the wall, and clung to a chair to keep from falling. Without another glance at her, Don followed Sue and Gayle heard his voice calling her name, in swift urgency. But Sue did not pause, and Don stopped at the edge of the walk to watch the pale glimmer of her filmy dress swallowed up in the darkness of the tree-bordered lane.
When he came back at last to the room, Gayle was seated on the divan, making a pretense of being very much at ease though her mouth had a sulky droop and her eyes were wary, uneasy.
Don looked at her for a long moment and the hostility, the utter disgust and loathing in his eyes hit her like a blow against her naked heart.
Gayle dropped the cigarette she had been trying to light and came to her feet in almost a single movement that forgot to be studiedly graceful and was as nearly awkward as she was capable of.
"Don!" she whimpered, stricken. "Don't look at me like that-"
He turned deliberately from her and walked to the bar where he mixed a drink, his back to her.
"I wish I need never look at you again as long as I five," he told her over his shoulder.
She caught her breath as though that had been a blow between the eyes.
"Oh, no, Don-no-you don't mean that-" she panted.
Don turned to her and the look in his eyes made her feel as though he had been beating her with steel-tipped thongs.
"Don't I?" he asked thinly and lifted his drink as though he felt the need of it.
She drew a deep breath and tried to still the panic in her heart. She even threw into her voice all its warm, coaxing, provocative music, and even managed something that she hoped would sound vaguely like a laugh as she held out her hand towards his drink, wiggling her fingers a little, an ugly travesty of a lovely woman quite sure of her vivacious charm.
"What's the matter-don't I get a drink, too?" she pleaded.
Don turned, mixed one and as he handed it to her, said grimly, "Sorry, but I'm all fresh out of arsenic-and just when I feel the need of it as I have never done before!"
Her hand shook a little as she accepted the drink, and she drank thirstily and deeply, trying with every atom of strength and courage she possessed to keep her hand from shaking, to keep that panic within her from showing. But when Don merely went on looking at her with that cold, hostile look as though he had never set eyes on her before and hoped he never would again, she put down the glass and took a step toward him, her hand extended. But when he quietly moved away from her, she stopped and her hand clenched and dropped to her side.
"I'm-sorry I blew my top," she managed awkwardly, the words seeming to stick in her throat. "But-any woman in her right mind would have felt the same way if she walked in and found the man she's going to marry lovin' up a storm with a damned little virgin!"
Don eyed her coldly and drank deeply but said nothing.
"Don't you understand, darling? She is a virgin and they're not much fun-you wouldn't have enjoyed it-" she stammered.
"How would you know? And if you don't mind I'd just as soon not discuss it-"
"But-Don, darling-we are going to be married-" she said uncertainly, and as she saw the satirical look touch his thin-lipped mouth she' cried sharply, "Well, aren't we?"
"When pigs fly, and it snows the Fourth of July in the deep South, and wars are ended all over the world, and taxes are cut fifty per cent, well, there is just a bare possibility that we might if those things happened-but I don't think they are likely to, do you?" he drawled cynically.
That was a body blow from which she rocked as though she stood on the deck of a ship caught in the teeth of a hurricane wind. Her eyes widened, and her face was paper white as she stared at him, trying to manage her voice, but unable to speak.
Don studied her curiously, with a sharp intentness that was in itself a blow.
"You really are pretty stupid, after all, aren't you?" he observed at last with a deceptive mildness.
Gayle drew a long, hard breath and her shaking hands were clenched tightly as she stared at him, wide-eyed and dazed.
"You-you aren't going to-marry me?" she stammered at last and her voice was thin and frightened above the wild clamor of her heart that seemed to rock in her breast, shaking her body violently.
Don's eyebrows went up a little, derisively, mockingly.
"You really expected me to?" he seemed acridly amused at the thought.
"But-you s-s-said you-wanted to-" she stammered like an appalled, terrified child.
"And you believed that any man in his right mind would want to marry a tramp?" The word, in that tone of voice, was like a blow.
Stung to the quick, terrified of the yawning abyss his words opened before her stumbling feet, she cried out stridently.
"But you've got to-you told that bunch of stuffed shirts that you were going to marry me-" she cried out wildly.
"That," stated Don flatly, and looked down at the ice cubes in his glass as though he found something oddly amusing in the yellow liquor that no longer quite covered them, "was to keep you from messing up things between Clyde and Sue-"
He looked up from the ice cubes and his eyes seemed to have borrowed some of their chill.
"That's why I say you are even more stupid than I first thought you-to be taken in by such a-thin tale!" he finished with frank satisfaction.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, dazed and bewildered.
Don's eyes slid over her contemptuously, admitting the hire of her lovely body, the tempting upward thrusts of her delicious breasts, but dismissing the lure as something to be paid for, briefly enjoyed and immediately dismissed.
"So you'd better run along now and get packed, because of course you'll be leaving tomorrow immediately after the wedding," he told her almost gently.
"But-but-you can't-I mean-you told them-I'll-damn you, I'll make you marry me!" she cried wildly.
Don laughed at her. A slow, amused, unbearably insulting laugh.
"How?" he asked gently.
She made a little helpless gesture and clenched her hands tightly together.
"You're still a tramp, you know," he pointed out in that almost gentle, contemptuous voice. "And now that Sue knows it, too-well, I hardly think she will be too anxious to have you around. And there isn't time left for you to seduce Clyde before the wedding-and Sue will damned well see to it that you don't have a chance afterwards-so-you see?"
He turned and mixed himself another drink, as though to give her a chance to think of an answer to his devastating summary of the situation. But Gayle was too dazed, too sick with the pain of her smashed hopes of marriage to him, to be able to find anything that she wanted to say. It would do no good at all to plead with him; he would only laugh at her. And she was too sore and bruised and hurt to endure any more of his contemptuous laughter. She could only stand there, leaning hard against the tall chair-back to steady her shaking knees and stare at him with wide, sick eyes out of which all the warmth and the loveliness had long since died.
When he turned to her, holding out a bottle, and raised his eyebrows a little to know if she would like her drink freshened, she could not control the fury that made her hurl her half-full glass straight at his insolent face.
Don ducked a little but not in time to miss the blow, and as the ice and liquor trickled down the front of his shirt front and lapels of his dinner clothes, his eyes blazed with fury. But he controlled himself with an effort and as he wiped away the moisture with a handkerchief, his thin-lipped smile was disgusted.
"That is just what I might have expected of you-once a fishwife, always a fishwife-though I don't know why I should so malign the race of fishwives, probably very respectable women compared to you," he told her savagely. "And now I think you'd better go. Of course, you can't leave until after the wedding-"
"Why the hell can't I?" she spat at him viciously. Don's eyes were faintly touched with alarm. "Oh, but you can't-the maid of honor walking out on a wedding this late would upset the whole shebang-after all the rehearsals and everything. You mustn't spoil Sue's wedding-" he protested.
"Oh, can't I? I'd like to set off an atom bomb right over her head just as the little witch stops in front of the altar-"
"I have no doubt you would," Don told her shortly. "But you're going to stay for the wedding, and pretend to be a lady and the minute it is over, I'll personally see you to the train-"
"Like hell you will! I'm leaving just as fast as I can get my duds together," she flamed at him and whirled towards the door.
"Here, wait a minute-Gayle! Listen to me-" Don's voice, sharp with protest followed her as she ran down the path and into the tree-bordered lane.
And when she had vanished, he turned and came back into the cottage. He carefully closed the door, locked it, and then lifting his drink, he saluted himself in the mirror, and gravely drank a toast to himself, grinning happily as though he had just accomplished something with far greater success than he had dared hope for.