Green Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

her chemist, and would have horrified Edna who had joined the Temperance League at fourteen. The “tincture” had done its usual soothing work last night, and a few swigs had proved restorative this morning.
    Edna daintily finished her consommé, put down her spoon and addressed Myra. “Such a luvely day, is it not, your grace—” She checked herself and quickly substituted, “Duchess.”
    In anticipation of this visit, she had bought a book of etiquette and studied it with care. It seemed rude to address a duchess so baldly, but the book had been explicit on the point: “your grace” from inferiors, “Duchess” from equals.
    Myra favored Edna Simpson with a leisurely stare, her full crimson lips quirked. “Perfect weather,” she agreed. “Mrs. Simpson, would you come from the North Country, by any chance?”
    Edna turned a mottled red. “I did happen to be born in Yorkshire,” she said quickly. “My father was the—the rector of a small village on the moors, such a pretty little spot.”
    George unfortunately heard and exclaimed, “But, Edna—you never told me that . . . and I always thought your father was . . .” He wheezed and faded off to silence under the glare his wife gave him.
    This by-play and its reasons were obvious. Richard hastened to relieve a guest’s discomfiture, even so ludicrous a guest as Edna. “The Duchess is from the North herself,” he explained kindly. “You people all seem to recognize each other in some magical way.”
    Myra laughed. “Aye,” she said, “I’m from Coomberland.”
    Edna’s ear was not subtle enough to hear the parody of her own speech, and she relaxed as she said brightly, “Indeed? A charming county—all those pretty lakes.”
    Myra inclined her gleaming auburn head, and turned again to Richard. The Simpson female was not worth baiting, whereas Richard was a fascinating challenge.
    The salmon mousse with cucumbers was delicious, yet Celia could not eat. Besides the recurrent thickness in her throat, her heart was giving those erratic thumps. Must run up to London soon, she thought, see that specialist. She looked down the table to Richard and found that he was watching her. The dark brooding look which she could not interpret. Had it always been there, from the beginning?
    Harry was booming across her at George Simpson about the iniquities of the Labour Government. She had no need to listen, and her mind slithered backwards to those shimmering wonderful days on the ship. “Love at first sight,” yes, it happened. That trite phrase, and yet what actually happened had been more like recognition.
    A year ago last May on the
Queen Mary.
That’s when it started. Suddenly, violently. Yet the voyage had promised nothing different from dozens of other voyages.
    All the years with her mother after her father died. Travel, travel. Together Celia and Lily had done most of Europe. They had done the Caribbean and Hawaii. Though there had also been a two-year interval in Paris at a school where Celia learned many things besides French.
    From time to time there had, naturally, been tentative flirtations, and three lukewarm proposals. Some of these young men Celia could not even remember, though she had been flattered by their attentions, mildly amused by their kisses. Lily, though generally permissive and a good confidante, had always moved on before anything grew too serious, nor had Celia objected. By twenty-two Celia had decided that she was essentially frigid. Just not sexy.
    She discussed this sad state with her girl friends, who were all either married or had lovers. They applied glib Freudian interpretations which Celia rather unhappily accepted. That she had a father complex; that she was ashamed of being a girl because it had disappointed her father; that there must be some forgotten childhood trauma.
    She once discussed with Lily her inability to be kindled by men. Lily laughed. “Oh, child, don’t be silly. Just wait until the right man comes