Free Kissing Kin by Elswyth Thane Page A

arrived.

    Archie was as different as a brother could be from Oliver, though his smartly-cut captain’s uniform became his slender body and easy carriage as though he too had been bred to it instead of to the legal gown and wig he had forsaken at the beginning of the war. Camilla liked him at once and was fascinated by the single eyeglass, which she had never seen done before.
    The girl he brought with him was small and fair, with a relaxed composure of manner which Camilla admired and envied. Jenny was completely at home in Virginia’s house, but then she would have been at home anywhere, she had a self-possession which came of generations of dignity and pride of place. She was simplicity itself. But at the same time she was Lady Jenny Keane, the Duke of Apethorpe’s only child. It showed in the way she held her brushed blonde head with its short gold hair curved under at the edges like a bell, and her small quiet hands, and her slow, rather deep voice with its pure vowels and perfect articulation. Jenny Keane was everything that Camilla desired to be—poised, groomed, self-contained, alittle aloof—grown-up. And yet Camilla doubted very much if Jenny was as old as she was herself.
    They accepted a glass of sherry each and Jenny sat down by the fire. Just as Camilla was beginning to wonder if Archie was ever going upstairs to see Virginia she found his eyes upon her, and smiled up at him—reminding him as she did so of something pathetic that wagged its tail. He put his glass on the mantelpiece and went and sat down beside her.
    “I was talking to Phoebe on the telephone a little while ago,” he said.
    “In London?” Camilla wanted to ask if anything had gone wrong in St. James’s Square since she and Virginia had left it early that afternoon, but it seemed a silly sort of question, so she only looked at him and waited for him to go on.
    “She asked me to bring you a message,” said Archie, and took her hands in both his. “Hold tight, my dear—your brother has been wounded.”
    For a moment Camilla held tight gratefully, feeling herself go paper white, leaving a tense silence while she mastered a wave of giddiness. She had braced herself for this, of course, but not yet. Not so soon.
    “Is it bad?” she heard herself asking at last.
    “Pretty bad, I’m afraid.”
    “Are you breaking something to me? Is he—dead?”
    “No. Wounded. He will be sent back to England, I expect, before long. I’m trying to get in touch with Bracken over there, he’ll go and look him up and send us details.”
    “Was there any word from Calvert?”
    “No. Telegram from the War Office. Came an hour after you left. Now, don’t worry yet, my dear, we’ll know more about it soon.”
    “Yes, I—I’m all right.” Camilla’s head came up resolutely. “Thank you for—did you come out of your way to tell me yourself?”
    Archie grinned at her ruefully.
    ‘Well, the truth is, I was moving heaven and earth to get a few hours with Virginia,” he said.
    “Of course, you—you must go up to her now.” Camilla let go of his sustaining hands. “How soon can we hear from Bracken?”
    “Hard to say. It will be a few days, anyway. Now, drink this up and try to eat your dinner.” He took a fresh glass of sherry from Sosthène’s waiting hand and closed her fingers on its stem. “Drink it,” he insisted kindly, and she obeyed, and Sosthène took back the empty glass. “Jenny will stay here with you to-night if you want her,” Archie was saying. “We thought you might need company, and she’s been through a lot of this—she can tell you that most of the time there’s no need to worry.”
    “I know,” said Camilla steadily. “Lots of them get well.”
    “ Droves of them, darling,” said Jenny from her chair across the hearthrug, and Camilla was grateful that she didn’t fuss and sympathize. “We’ll pull every wire in the place and get him sent down to the Hall and you can come and help look after