VELVET AND STEEL

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 57, Issue 25, 9 November 1936, Page 7

VELVET AND STEEL

By PEARL BELLAIRS. |

:: SERIAL STORY :: |

:: Copyright : :

CHAPTER I. ON A RIVIERA BEACH. “It is an invitation from Piers Hannen. Ho wants us to have lunch with him to-day aboard, the Corsair!” said Miss Georgina la Fontaine, as she finished reading the note which tlie waiter had brought to her on the sunflooded terrace of the Hotel Mediternanee.

“Both of us?” .-11. “Of course. How nice of him to look mo up so soon—the yacht came in only last night, ha says. You’ll enjoy it, Joan; you have never been aboard a big yacht before, have you, my dear?” Miss la Fontaine folded the note with an air of satisfaction. Sitting beside her in the orange coloured basket chair, Joan Denby, Miss la Fontaine’s youthful secretary-companion, made a delicate picture in light and shade, for her slender figure was all sun-chequered by the rays which fell through the palm fronds overhead. This light and shade effect seemed the very expression of herself and her face, where a smiling mouth mingled merriment with the wistful sympathy of glowing hazel eyes. She glanced at Miss la Fontaine with a doubtful ah’.

“Do you think that I ought to go, Georgie dear?” she asked. In moments of mischievous amusement Joan Denby’s mouth curved to an elusive dimple in her cheek. The dimple was there now. _

“Why not?” inquired Miss la Fontaine, calmly raising her aristocratic white head to gaze at Joan defiantly. “Oh, darling—!” protested Joan, in despair at her employees obstinacy. “You were a dear to bring me here to Cannes —and I hate the idea of having to go back to London. But I feel so uncomfortable at times, sailing under false colours and meeting all your friends as though I were their social equal. For you know, Georgie, you do make them think that I’m just being your secretary for fun! Sometimes I want to tell them all that I’m not the last of some noble line, some mysterious county family fallen on hard times!”

“Nonsense, Joan!” “It’s not so difficult at home in Eton Place, because there I’m just the secretary, I can efface myself, and if they’re nice to me it’s their fault! But here a go about with you—you introduce me to them all, and they take me for granted.” “Don’t be a silly young thing,” said Miss la Fontaine. “How ridiculous it would be, my dear, to undo all that I have done for you since you were a child! ’ How can I take you about with me in comfort if people are going to look down on you socially? No, my dear girl! You are sailing under false colours on my behalf, not on your own.” “I wish I could feel that.” “Then do! Besides —they are not false colours at all! Your education has been as good as I could make it. You are charming, Joan dear, and anyone should be proud to know you!” “You’re so sweet, Georgie! But in this case, just consider! Piers Hannen! Would he invite me to lunch on his yacht if he knew that my father is only a foreman in one of the workshops in the Hannen factory?” “I hope that you would never be so silly as to let him know,” Miss la Fontaine replied. “Though if he did it would make no difference to him. I respect Piers, my dear ;he is not a snob. So we shall go!” “Georgie, I can’t holcl out against you!” said Joan, and the dimple came and went in her cheek as she added. “Really, it will be rather fun! To meet the Hannen of the Hannen Steel Combine! I’m afraid I shan’t feel con-science-stricken, only amused!” Miss la Fontaine smiled as she looked at Joan, thinking how perfectly at home she appeared on this terrace where the fashionable world was gathered to enjoy the Riviera sunshine. No one seeing the girl could have guessed that Joan’s mother had been her own, Miss la Fontaine’s parlourmaid in the house in Eton Place before her marriage to the man Denby. The first five years of Joan’s life had been spent in her mother’s poor little house in Poplar, near the Hannen factory in which Denby worked; to-day those five years might never have been. Yes; it was a wonderful thing that she had done for Joan, Miss la Fontaine thought, educating her and including in her all the habits of good breeding—but one had to admit that most of it was in the girl herself. Joan had a native pride, one could see it in the turn of her head. It was an unusual loyalty in her which made her return regularly to stay with her family in the poor little house in the slum off the East India Dock road! And the younger brothers, who had not been born when Miss la Fontaine took Joan to live at Eton Place, were the greatest care of Joan’s life. “That frock suits you very well,” remarked Miss la Fontaine approvingly, glancing at the simple, distinctivelycut white muslin which set off Joan’s fair head to perfection. “It’s a lovely frock!” Joan said l , but with a little sigh. Much as she liked Miss la Fontaine, she so often wished that she herself could have bought the things that were so generously given to her. But she was only twenty-one; and as she looked across the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, she promised herself a future in which she would make a way for herself. ... Dreaming her ambitious dreams of independence, Joan took little notice beyond saying good morning when the Honourable Mrs Walter Dale, a friend of Miss la Fontaine’s who was also a guest at the hotel, came to sit down by them.

Miss la Fontaine and the Honourable Mrs Dale talked for a while, and when they began to speak of Piers Hannen, Joan’s attention was drawn. Everyone was talking about Piers Hannen. “The trouble is,” said Mrs Dale,

“that lie is so young and attractive and so wealthy that women fall for him like ninepins! And he won’t have anything to do with them —not one!” “I’ve known him for years,” said Miss la Fontaine. “I took him to the Zoo when he was still in his schooldays. Joan and I are going to lunch on his yacht this (afternoon. Joan hasn’t met him yet, though. She’s thrilled aren’t you, Joan?” “I don’t know that I am, George, said Joan mildly. Though she loved Georgina la Fontaine as she might have loved a dear elder sister, Joan had an independent nature. Piers Hannen was a very wealthy, much talked or young man and Joan was nothing, only Georgie’s secretary. She was'not overawed by the idea of Piers Hannen—and she had no fancy for being one of Mrs Dale’s ninepins! “There he is, now!” cried Mrs Dale suddenly, and they looked over the balustrade and saw Piers Hannen. He had just come from a dip m the sea, and he was wearing only a pair of battling shorts, while a gaudy bath robe was slung round his shoulder; he was walking alone and talking to Loid Fd ward Blagli, another of Miss la FonwasTof ‘medium height, with very broad shoulders and a finely proportionS? muscular body, which was brouaed to the waist; his hair, which was cropned rather short, wet from the sea and curling slightly, was a dark reddish colour. His eyes were bright blue and his jaw was very powerful, but Joan, who had been expecting to see a handsome man, said: “Why, he s s e had been going to say “brutal, but as that seemed rather rude about a friend of Georgie’s, she substituted the W “He’s ever such a dear.” Miss la Fontaine defended him. “Even though he must always have his own way and gets it, too!” “I wouldn’t like to try and stop him!” Joan admitted drily.* Piers Hannen had paused to talk to Lord Edward before he went into the hotel; he was quite close to Joan and her companions as they sat on the terrace, and as he stood he imaoun the bath robe from his shoulders and out it on; as he raised his arms to slip

into it, his muscles gleamed under bis skin in the sunshine. Joan noticed a scar on his left side slanting across his ribs, and Mrs Dale said immediately : “Did you see that?” “My dear, how can you believe that story!” said Miss la Fontaine. <<x know for a fact that it s ti ue. “What story is this?” asked Joan, and Mrs Dale told them in an undertone, while they watched the unconscious subject of it down below . “They say that it happened m South America about five years ago. He gets so tired of all these young girls whose mammas are trying to marry them off to him, not to speak of all the other women who will come if lie raises his little finger! My dear, can you wonder? But in South America he met

a famous dancer who would have nothing, simply nothing to do with him. He was wild about it?—you know, Hany Vincy himself told me, and he was there in Monte Video with Piers at the time! Bo it must be time. Anyhow, he perscecuted her in the most astonishing fashion, so I hear—that is, if one can call it persecution, because of course, that dancer wasn’t—well, there had been other men beside Piers. At one time she actually stabbed lnm, and that is the scar! But that s the only sort of woman who interests him —one who will fight Him off with a knife!” , , , “It’s an absurd story!” protested Miss la Fontaine, though not very convincingly. . ~ . . “Don’t you believe it— saiu tli© plump Mrs Dal© clialleugingly. “I admit that it is possible, knowing Piers as I do,” said Miss la, Fontaine with a smile. Joan, watching Piers Hannen as ho turned away to go into the hotel, said in a voice of sincere disgust: “What a horrible man!” “Nonsense,” said Miss la, Fontaine. “He’s a dear.” Piers Hannen glanced up at the terrace as he passed; he saw Miss la Foiitaine and waved gaily, with a smile which relieved the grim pugnacity of his face; his eyes, very bright blue, lingered for a moment on Joan and then he passed into the hotel. “I don’t like him,” said John. 1 don’t like his face. It’s so frightfully brutal.” ~ “He only knows what he wants, said Miss la Fontaine. “And does what he can to get it. But he’s the soul o honour, Joan, even though he was rather wild at one time.” . But Joan was rather disappointed. She had looked forward to the luncheon on Hannen’s yacht that day; and now since she found Piers Hannen so repulsive, she did not think she would enjoy it so much. But there was still a certain amount of curiosity and amusement in meeting him, for it was as though she had known him all hei life, though she had never seen him before. It was Miss la Fontaine’s hope that Joan would marry well into the society to which Miss la Fontaine had introduced her; she was always encouraging Joan to favour this of that young man of wealth and good family, who became attracted to her. But Joan alw aj s refused to be coaxed, and Miss la Fontaine was always amiable and gave way to her. Joan wanted to make her way in the world; she had been a pensioner in the wealthy house for long enough, sweet and kind though her friend Georgina had always been to her. She stayed with Georgie because she was fond of her and Georgie was a dear. But she had no intention' of marrying any man whom she did not love for the purpose of being eternally benefacted by him. The newest of all Miss la Fontaine s candidates for the post of making Joan comfortable and exalted in the world, had turned up at this villa, in Cannes, a day or two after they arrived. This was Lord Edward Blagh. He obviously admired Joan very much, and Miss la Fontaine said that she was suie he would ask Joan to marry him. . Joan was equally sure that .if ho did she would refuse. He was small, bald, young man, with an elderly manner; he came now, to suggest that they should depart in his «ar at once for the harbour and Hannen’s yacht, The Courier, or they would be late for" luncheon aboard her. “But Piers is still in the hotel somewhere, I’m sure,” said Miss la Fontaine. “We saw' him go in only, a minute or two ago, my dear Blagh.

“He’ll bo there before wo are, nevertheless,” said Lord) Edward, and he muttered that it was absurd.

“What is absurd?” asked Joan. “The way Piers Hannen drives,” said Lord Edward. “Hie pace at which he drives that Mercedes. He’s going in for some Italian hill climb in July,” he told Miss la Fontaine. “I dare say you saw mo talking to him on the plage —I was trying to persaude him not to. These hill climbs are rapidly becoming a safe way of committing suicide!” “Don’t you like driving fast?’ inquired Joan, with a mischievous smile. “It’s all very well to drive last but there is no need to,” said Lord Edward in exactly the manner she knew he would use. “Now I have three Rolls Royces, and I consider that not even in a Rolls Royce is it comfortable to drive over the average road at more than forty-five miles an hour.” “But 1 should imagine that Piers Hannen considers nothing but himself ever,” said Joan. “\ou only have 10 look at him once to know it.” “Really? Do you think so?” said Lord Edward, looking at her with earnnest, watery eyes. “And he’s quite a stranger to you?” “Quite,” said Joan, truthfully, though she was thinking of the Hannen Iron and Steel "works, and the lacs that Piers Hannen was her lather's employer. “You must be a great judge of character, Miss Denby,” said Lord Edward, as he assisted her after Miss la Fontaine got into the car which, was waiting to drive them down to the harbour. “Because that is exactly what we all say about Hannen, and we’ve known him for years 1” They glided softly away along the promenade where expensive ears passed swiftly to and fro. The sea was a lovely azure and the sun shone out of a clear sky.

“How delightful it is!” said Miss la Fontaine as they went on towards the harbour. When they came into view of it they saw Piers Hannen’s yacht, a long, white, low-funnelled motor ship lying anchored out in the deep blue pool. Joan was just about to admire the yacht when a dark shape flashed past them at a speed which made Lord Edward’s chauffeur pull in sharply to the side; the other car vanished in a cloud of white dust, which rolled over them obscuring everything, getting ill their eyes and compelling the chauffeur to slow down almost to a standstill. “Good heavens 1” cried Miss la. Fontaine, waving her hand feebly in front of her face to dispel the dust. “That’s Piers Hannen,” said Laid Edward crossly. “I told you that lie would be there before us!” (To be Continued). (The characters in this story are entirely imaginary, and no reference to living persons is intended,.)