AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Thing is that Philippa is going through a bit of a difficult stage at the moment. Personally I’m surprised at the old man’s patience with her,’ Robert had told him, ‘and to be blunt with you, old boy, having you here isn’t making things any easier. Girls of that age…’ He had given a brief shrug. ‘Well, you know how it is—it’s obvious she’s got a bit of a thing about you and for both your sakes really we feel it would be best if you left.
‘After all, it’s not as though anything could come of it,’ Robert had gone on, apparently oblivious to Blake’s reactions to what he was saying. ‘Philippa is the kind of girl who’s going to need to marry someone who’ll be able to take care of her properly—I’m sure I don’t need to say any more…’
‘Oh, but I think you do,’ Blake had told him, his voice dangerously low and calm.
Philippa’s feelings for him were of course no secret to him but he had been so careful about not using them, about not abusing the position he felt he was in… about not taking advantage of her youth and innocence.
As long ago as that first summer he had known what his own feelings were, but she had only been sixteen then, far too young for him to…
Now she was eighteen, and in between worrying about his mother and working and studying he had allowed himself to dream… to imagine.
He would be so careful with her, so slow and tender, so that he didn’t frighten or repulse her with the intensity of his desire for her… his love for her.
He had been pleased when she had first shyly confided to him her wish to go to university. He had never liked the way her parents and especially her father treated her; the way they controlled her life.
Michael had been embarrassed when he had raised the subject with him. But Blake had sensed that he agreed with him.
He had felt that it would do Philippa good to get away from her parents, that it would give her a much needed opportunity to mature and become independent. In lots of ways she was very young for her age.
If Blake was honest with himself he would have admitted that he didn’t particularly like Philippa’s parents, especially her father. Victor Waverly had very fixed ideas and attitudes about life, but most especially about status and wealth.
It was obvious not only that he liked the fact that he was the wealthiest man in the small neighbourhood in which they lived, but that he also seemed to need to be held slightly in awe by others.
The fact that the small business he had inherited from his father had been taken over by a much larger and very successful company and that Victor had been astute enough to negotiate for himself a place on that company’s main board—a position that was more of a sinecure than anything else from what Blake had seen—seemed to Blake to have given him an exaggerated idea of his own importance.
That his family should reflect that importance very obviously mattered far more to him than their own personal happiness. Blake had witnessed Michael’s unhappiness over his father’s lack of interest in his own chosen career in design, and the constant unfavourable comparisons between him and his elder brother, Robert, who was not just his father’s favourite but also very much cast in the same mould.
Over the years Blake had seen how Philippa’s father treated those whom he considered lower down the social and financial scale than he was himself, and those who were above him.
There might not be anything vulgar or ostentatious about the way Philippa’s parents displayed their wealth—that would not have fitted in with Victor’s image of himself at all—but his desire to overpower and overawe others with what he had and what he owned was still there.
Like the public pride he took in Philippa’s prettiness… Blake had marvelled at the quiet calm with which Philippa endured her father’s attitude towards her and he was determined that he was never going to allow himself to be trapped by his love for her into trying to manipulate or dominate her in the way her father did.
No, before he even mentioned marriage to her he wanted her to have the freedom that going to university would give, the opportunity to make her own choices, her own decisions. In doing so he might be risking losing her but it was a risk he had to take, for both their sakes.
Now, as he’d listened to Robert, his anger had overwhelmed him.
‘I think you need to say a lot more,’ he had told him. ‘One hell of a lot more…’
It had pleased him to see Robert looking flustered and uncomfortable as he blustered, ‘Oh, come on, old man. I don’t want to offend you, but it must be obvious to you that my father would never allow Philippa to become seriously involved with you…’
‘What about what Philippa might want?’ Blake had asked him. ‘Or doesn’t that come into it?’
‘She’s far too young to know what she wants… she can’t even make up her mind which dress to buy and has to come home with them both.’
‘Is she?’ Blake had challenged him softly. ‘She’s not too young to think she’s in love with me.’ It was an underhand move, but it was one that Robert had forced him to make.
Blake could see how uncomfortable he had made him, his skin flushing as he’d avoided looking directly at Blake.
‘She’s far too young to know what love is… Oh, she might imagine she knows, but do you honestly believe those feelings would last five minutes once she realised what she’d be giving up?
‘The pearls my father gave her for Christmas probably cost more than you could earn in a whole year. She treats them like glass beads. She isn’t a girl who knows the meaning of the word “economy”. She has never had to go without anything… anything,’ Robert had emphasised.
‘On the contrary,’ Blake had told him. ‘I believe she’s had to go without a great deal.’
It had been Blake who had heard the door open, who had seen Philippa coming towards them. She had been playing tennis and her face was flushed, her skin as soft and clear as the pearls she had asked him to fasten for her two evenings ago—the pearls her father had bought her. She was wearing a tennis dress with a brief fluted skirt and a neat fitted bodice, a discreet logo proclaiming its expensive manufacturer, and Blake knew that the club where she had been playing was exclusive and private, with very very high fees.
As he’d looked at her, Blake had suddenly seen her with new eyes.
