Page 89 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

‘You are a very poor liar,’ she said. ‘It’s something I like about you.’

He smiled. ‘Now, really, that is not a logical statement, Molly Sands! If I were a good liar, you wouldn’t know when I was lying, would you? And, by the way, you said it was your husband who started calling you Molly. What is your name really?’

‘Oh dear. I was hoping you wouldn’t ask. It’s really quite unsuitable.’

‘It can’t be anything too bad,’ he said. ‘My second name is Peregrine. I took good care the fellows at school didn’t get hold of that, let me tell you! Come, madam, out with it!’

‘If you must know, it’s Mariamne.’

‘But that’s delightful!’

‘No one – literally no one – could ever spell it. I was Marianne all through school.’

‘It suits you much better than Molly. Mariamne was beautiful, and a princess. What more need I say?’

‘You’re such a fool!’ she said, laughing.

‘I shall call you by it from now on.’

‘Do,’ she invited, ‘if froideur amuses you.’

‘You can’t frost me. You like me too much.’

‘Sadly true.’

They fell silent, but it was a peaceful silence of accord. She took off her hat, and let the little wandering breeze cool her brow. Richard lit a cigarillo and lay on his back, watching the smoke coil up through the branches. A strand of hair had fallen on his forehead, and she wanted to brush it away, and kiss the place where it had been. Impossible! But just at that moment, less impossible than usual.

He caught her looking at him; he met her eyes, and sat up abruptly, putting aside his cigarillo. She felt herself blush. He was searching her face urgently, and she knew something difficult was coming.

He said it quite plainly, in a steady voice, like a statement of fact. ‘I love you.’

‘No, Richard,’ she protested weakly.

‘Yes. I love you. And I think you love me.’ She didn’t answer. Impossible! ‘I am in such a damnable position,’ he said. ‘I love you, and I want to marry you, but I have nothing to offer you, no establishment. I couldn’t support you, and so I can’t ask you. But if I could, if I did, would you say yes?’

She was silent a long time. Then she said, ‘I think that is a question that has to be asked to be answered.’

He looked hurt. ‘Don’t trifle with me! Do you think I’m not sincere? I mean it, every word.’

‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘But it’s you who are trifling with me. If you can’t ask me to marry you – and I accept that you can’t – you can’t ask me to respond to a proposal that can never be made. It’s cruel to expect me to.’

‘Oh, damn,’ he said wryly. ‘You’re quite right. I’m a fool and a cad – but you must forgive me on the grounds of inexperience. I’ve never asked a girl to marry me before.’

She flinched inwardly at the word ‘girl’. ‘You still haven’t,’ she pointed out lightly. ‘And please don’t take that as a hint that I want you to.’

‘You’re laughing at me.’

‘No, my dear, at the situation. Which you must agree is closer to farce than tragedy.’

He took her hands and kissed them. ‘You always make me laugh when I particularly don’t want to. It’s most unfair. And here I am, laying out my finest feelings for you to trample on, and you haven’t even said you love me!’

‘Nor shall I,’ she said steadily.

‘But you do,’ he urged.

She freed her hands and looked away. ‘You make it too hard for me, Richard. Everything is too hard.’

He was silent. Then, after a while, he said, ‘We should go back,’ and she was afraid she had hurt him, and that he was ending their day out of pique.