Francesca kissed Doris on the cheek, slipped into a chair and said, ‘Have the Three Musketeers gone adventuring then?’
‘Yes, darling, you just missed them,’ Doris replied. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for my company for the rest of the day. They’ve been invited out to lunch, and won’t be back until late this afternoon.’
‘Oh how lovely to be alone, just the three of us,’ Diana declared, also sitting down. ‘It’s a welcome change not to have the men under our feet. We can have a jolly nice chat about all those feminine things they seem to think are inconsequential and frivolous… such as what we’re going to wear to Victor’s party tomorrow night, and to the dance next week. Maybe you’ll even tell us about your wedding outfit, Doris.’
Doris nodded, and smiled, and before she could respond, Francesca broke in curiously. ‘Who’s asked them to lunch, Doodles?’
‘Bunky Ampher,’ said Doris.
‘Gosh, I didn’t know they were on the Riviera. Did Daddy say if Belinda, their daughter, is with them?’
‘No, he didn’t, and we’d better make a point of asking him later. If she is with her parents, she should be invited to the dance, since Earl and Countess Winterton are coming.’
‘Oh yes, you must ask Bel, Doris, she’s a really super girl. Very special actually. A frightfully good sport too. She had to take an awful lot of ragging at Madame Rosokovsky’s dancing classes. Poor thing, she was horrendously fat then. A lot of the girls used to call her Belly Bunter, after Billy Bunter. I thought it—’
‘How unkind,’ Doris cried.
‘Yes, it was. Children can be very cruel. Belinda took it in her stride; still, I knew she was miserable. I befriended her, and they stopped. But then they started to call us Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee.’ Francesca wrinkled her nose, giggled. ‘Old Bel had the last laugh on those nasty little wretches. She turned into a raving beauty with a model girl’s figure. She’ll be an asset at the dance, Doodles, since you have such a lot of spare bods.’
Doris nodded absently, thinking how typical it was of the tender-hearted Francesca to defend and protect the underdog. She said, ‘Speaking of the dance, we ought to make a start on the place cards. We’ve about a hundred and seventy-five to do. Here’s a list of names each, and there are pens somewhere here.’ Doris found them under the papers scattered on the table and lifted an empty shoe box from one of the chairs. ‘We can put the finished cards in this.’
Diana, pen poised, cried, ‘I bet I can do fifty cards in an hour, Cheska! I’ll race you!’
‘I’ll top you with sixty, Dibs!’ Francesca threatened, her head already bent.
As the hour progressed, Doris had to admire their industry and speed and concentration. Their pens flew, neither girl spoke, and the only sound was the rattle of the little cards as they were dropped into the Delman shoe box. Doris was much slower, mostly because her mind kept straying to other more pressing matters, and when, at one moment, she paused to peek at her watch, she saw they had been working for almost an hour and a half. She called a halt and said, ‘I think we’ve had it for today, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I’m getting cramp.’ Diana put down the pen, counted the names she had ticked off on her list, announced gleefully. ‘Aha, I’ve done fifty-five!’
Francesca, who had followed suit, cried with a triumphant laugh, ‘I win, Dibsido! I’ve done sixty-five!’
‘To my puny forty,’ Doris groaned. She stretched and remarked, ‘We have accomplished a lot though. I noticed Yves bring out the drinks cart earlier. In my opinion we’ve earned a glass of bubbly before lunch.’ She rose and went to open the bottle of champagne. Francesca and Diana drifted after her, giggling between themselves.
The three of them talked about a variety of things whilst they sipped their glasses of Dom Pérignon, relaxing, enjoying the glorious sunshine, the magnificent panoramic view from the terrace. It was Diana who finally brought the conversation around to the impending wedding. She leaned towards Doris and said, ‘Don’t be secretive any longer, darling. Do tell us what you’re going to wear at your marriage. We’re dying to know.’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Doris said quite truthfully. ‘But it will be by Balmain. I’m planning to go to Paris at the end of the summer to talk to my friend Ginette Spanier, his directrice. She always advises me on my clothes, and I know Pierre will come up with something really special. I thought a suit would be elegant, or perhaps a dress with a matching cape, possibly trimmed with fur. I’d like your bridesmaid’s outfits to be designed by Pierre too, and they will be my gifts to you both.’
‘Gosh, Doris, how generous of you! Do you really mean it?’ Francesca was flabbergasted, but delightedly so, and she gazed at Doris through shining eyes.
‘Yes, of course I mean it. I think my beautiful attendants should have the very best.’
Diana said. ‘What a lovely gesture, Doris. I’ve always dreamed of owning a Balmain. Thank you.’
‘Yes, thanks, Doodles. And shall we be coming to Paris with you? I mean, we’ll have to, won’t we?’ Francesca stated.
Doris smiled warmly. Their youthful enthusiasm was infectious and she went on to exclaim, ‘What else! We’ll make it a fun trip, spend a few days, see the sights. And naturally you’ll both be my guests.’
Both girls thanked her again, and most profusely. Francesca made a small moue and said, ‘It’s such a pity Katharine can’t be a bridesmaid as well, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Doris murmured in her quietest tone and, averting her face, she poured more champagne into their flutes.
Diana, glancing across at Francesca with interest, asked, ‘When is she arriving at Zamir, by the way? I can’t remember what Kim said.’
‘Tomorrow afternoon, and about time too,’ Francesca cried, her voice bright with happiness. She then volunteered, ‘I’ve missed her, and I’m delighted she’ll be here for the party at Le Pirate. It wouldn’t be the same without darling Kath. I expect she’s thoroughly exhausted and I’m going to make sure she has a rest whilst she’s here. That girl works like a little Trojan, and I certainly don’t envy her… having to deal with those film moguls. They’re so demanding.’
Neither of the women commented, and Francesca rushed on blithely, ‘Getting back to the wedding, Doodles, I do hope Daddy will invite Mrs Moggs. When I asked him if he would he gave me the oddest of looks. But after all, she does fall into the category of family retainers. Well, sort of… and he is having everyone from the estate and the village. It will be mean if he doesn’t include her, and I shall tell him so.’
Doris and Diana exchanged amused looks, and both started to laugh. Diana gasped, ‘I hope you’re going to make a new hat for her, Cheska.’
‘That’s a super idea. I must come up with a really chic bit of nonsense. She adores my concoctions.’
‘Ah, but does Uncle David?’
‘Oh, Daddy! What does he know about women’s clothes,’ Francesca pooh-poohed airily, but she had the good grace to laugh.
‘Quite a lot,’ replied Doris, smiling at her fondly. ‘And since it’s so important to you, I shall insist that Mrs Moggs receives an invitation.’
***
‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming a day early, Katharine?’ Kim asked, hovering uncertainly in the middle of the sun room.
‘Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it, darling?’
‘I suppose not,’ he agreed quietly, nonetheless wishing she had seen fit to telephone him first. She had been waiting at the villa when he had returned with his father and Christian from lunch with the Amphers, and her unexpected presence had thrown him off balance.
Katharine studied him closely, trying to determine his mood, asking herself if she had made a faux pas. Did the English consider it bad form for a person to arrive sooner than planned, and unannounced? No, that was absurd. Francesca had welcomed her excitedly and with enthusiasm an hour before.
‘Well, aren’t you glad I managed to get away today?’ she queried, her mag
nificent turquoise eyes suddenly flirtatious and teasing.
‘Yes.’ His eyes rested on her. She was sitting on a small wicker sofa, her face partially shadowed by the giant-sized green leaves of an exotic plant positioned next to it. He thought how delicate she appeared, even frail, in the navy blue linen dress which was tailored and severe, its plainness unrelieved by any adornment. She leaned forward with suddenness, and her face, struck by the sunshine pouring through the windows, was unbelievable in this golden late-afternoon light.
Her beauty, so sublime, so splendiferous, knocked the breath out of him, and he could not take his eyes off her, was held in fascination and beguilement. Eventually he did look away, staring into the space immediately above her dark head, blinking, trying to rid himself of her enchanting—and disturbing—image. After a moment’s reflection, Kim roused himself and stepped up to the seating arrangement. He sat down opposite Katharine and his scrutiny became fixed again, and unwavering.
‘Why did you lie to me?’ he asked in an oddly flat, unemotional voice.
Katharine gaped at him, astounded, and she shook her head, seemed not to comprehend his accusation.
He repeated. ‘Why did you lie to me… Katie Mary O’Rourke?’
She sucked in her breath with a small shocked gasp, fell against the sofa jerkily as if she had been pushed. Her radiance diminished and the animation fled her eyes. She was paralysed, unable to speak.
‘That is your real name, isn’t it?’ Kim challenged, his voice soft, but dangerously so.
Still she did not respond, and he went on rapidly, ‘Your silence confirms it. I want to know why you lied to me.’ He leaned forward and his eyes revealed his cold anger. He was being relentless and this sickened him, yet he could not help himself. He had to know the truth.
‘I am waiting for an answer. I demand an answer!’
Katharine clasped her hands together to control their trembling. ‘I didn’t actually lie to you, Kim,’ she whispered finally. ‘I simply didn’t tell you my real name. I haven’t told anybody my—’
‘I’m not anybody,’ he snapped, furious. ‘I am your fiancé, albeit unofficially. I proposed to you, and you accepted me. You agreed to become my wife. Or had you forgotten that? It would have behoved you to confide in me at that time. Why didn’t you?’
She said nervously, ‘I didn’t think it was very important.’
Kim stared at her incredulously. ‘Not important. Good God, what strange concepts you do have. We have established your real name—’ He shook his head in perplexity, peered at her. ‘People who change their names usually have something to hide. What prompted you, what do you wish to conceal?’
‘Nothing!’ she protested fiercely. ‘I simply dropped O’Rourke and started to use Tempest when I enrolled at RADA. I thought Tempest sounded more glamorous, that it had a lovely theatrical ring to it.’ Katharine was managing to regain a measure of her self-possession; a suggestion of a smile flickered. She brought a lightness to her tone. ‘It’s not unusual for an actress to use a stage name, Kim. In fact, that’s a common practice in Hollywood. Lots of stars adopt new names.’
‘So I believe. Nevertheless, you seem to be missing the real point. You are going to be my wife… Viscountess Ingleton. One day you will be the 12th Countess of Langley, and that in itself is quite a responsibility. It seems to have escaped you that there can be no mystery, or suggestion of impropriety, surrounding the woman I marry. I therefore consider it irresponsible, and unforgivable, that you saw no reason to be direct, honest with me. I wonder, did you intend ever to apprise me of the truth? Or were you going to hide it from me for ever, gambling I might never find out?’
‘Oh come on, Kim,’ Katharine exclaimed, staring at him. Aware that she could twist him around her little finger, she felt she could thus slither out of the corner she was backed into—if she was adroit. ‘Anyone would think I’m a murderer, concealing my crime, the way you’re carrying on. And of course I would have told you. I had every int—’
‘Were you also going to tell me you’re not an orphan?’ he countered, his eyes blazing. ‘As you have pretended to me since we’ve known each other.’ The look he now gave her was full of condemnation and, not waiting for an answer, he cried irately, ‘However you excuse your deceitfulness about your name, you cannot, I repeat cannot, deny that you lied to me about your family circumstances, and in the most deliberate way. Tell me, Katharine, how is it possible for you to be an orphan when you have a father?’ His voice simmered with rage. ‘You really have behaved in the most deplorable manner towards me, and frankly I’m appalled. But apart from being shaken and shocked by your duplicity, I’m terribly, terribly hurt. My feelings aside, you’ve also abused my sister’s loving friendship and my father’s many kindnesses. I don’t mind telling you, he is horrified. In our lexicon, liars are despicable, Katharine,’ he concluded. He lit a cigarette, his hands shaking.
Katharine was ice cold, her stomach muscles taut and knotted. She had lost her advantage. However, she was nothing if not shrewd and quick witted and she recognized at once that to be cringing, apologetic and defensive would only weaken her position further, would compound her guilt. And so she went on the attack.
She drew herself up on the sofa, stiffly, and with a degree of regality. She said, with a cool superiority, ‘I think I detect Doris’s hand in this. Spying on a person! Prying into her private affairs! How contemptible! I’m surprised your father doesn’t find that kind of… of… questionable activity perfectly reprehensible. I do. Doris is the one to be censured, not I.’
Kim felt the heat flooding into his face and he cried excitedly, ‘Doris most certainly did not make inquiries about you. She’s far too sweet and decent to engage in something so lowdown as spying. The information fell into her lap quite by accident—’
‘So I am right! I knew it.’ This was said with a flash of triumph, a show of bravado, both false in that Katharine was still somewhat unnerved and groping her way. ‘Let me tell you something else, Kim. I believe you’re wrong. I am convinced Doris went out of her way to investigate my life in Chicago. She was trying to dig up dirt on me. Well, I don’t care, because there isn’t any dirt to dig up. I don’t have anything to hide, as I just told you. There are no skeletons in my closet.’
‘I’m not sure what that last crack is supposed to mean, and I’m not going to dignify it with a response.’ Kim glared at her again, his brow furrowing. ‘Do you deny that you have a father who is living in Chicago?’
‘No. It’s true. I had my reasons for doing what I did, and I was going to explain everything to you this weekend, although I concede you may doubt that now.’ Katharine shrugged and a derisive smile rippled across her pretty mouth, making it ugly. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything, it seems. Doris, the master spy, has saved me the trouble. Let her do some more of her filthy digging, and give you another report.’
Kim intensified his stare, indignant, his blood boiling. He curbed the impulse to reach out and shake her. His mouth tightened in aggravation, and he fumbled in his trouser pocket, pulled out a crumpled envelope. ‘I will not permit you to place the blame on Doris when she is guiltless. It just so happens that some weeks ago, when she was in Monte Carlo shopping, she ran into an old acquaintance from Chicago. In passing, Doris mentioned your name, said you were seeing me. It was an innocuous comment, made along with a number of other remarks about her own fife at the moment. The other day, Doris received this letter from the woman, with a clipping from a local newspaper. It’s a story about you, with photographs of you taken at Langley Castle. When you were filming there. Here’s the letter. Please read it.’
Katharine sat back on the sofa, her hands clenched in her lap, her face obstinate, her eyes defiant. ‘I don’t want to read it.’
‘Then I shall read it for you,’ Kim snapped, enraged by her cavalier attitude, her seeming indifference. He took the letter out of the envelope. He knew the whole epistle by heart, had no trouble finding the relevant paragraph.
‘I saw the enclosed interview with Katharine Tempest in the magazine section of Sunday’s Chicago Tribune. I recognized her at once. We knew her as Katie Mary O’Rourke. Janet and she attended the same convent. Small world, isn’t it? We’ve often wondered what happened to her. She disappeared from Chicago so suddenly and abruptly it’s been quite a mystery for years. All very strange! We don’t know her father, who is apparently unapproachable on the subject of his daughter. Of course we’re delighted to know she is all right after all, and so successful. Do remember us to her.’
‘The rest of the letter is of no interest to us, Katharine, merely chit-chat about social activities in Chicago.’ Kim stuffed the letter back into the envelope and shoved it in his pocket. He placed the clipping on the table in front of her. ‘You might like to read this later. Estelle Morgan has done you proud, written a glowing account of your talent.’
Katharine was silent, filled with embarrassment and mortification because her deception had been unmasked before she could reveal it herself. How foolish she had been. She should have confided in Kim weeks ago. At that time she had planned to tell her story in a way that would have gained his sympathy, understanding and support; by waiting she had brought his wrath down on her.
Kim expected a statement, some kind of response, and when none was offered he rose and walked to the window. He stared out at the sea blindly. Since his return from Grasse earlier in the week, and his talk with Doris and his father, he had been suppressing his anger and so many other emotions. The letter from Chicago had knocked the wind out of his sails. Not only that, he had been forced to dissemble, to keep up a lighthearted front for Francesca, his cousins, their innumerable guests. Dissimulation, not a natural Cunningham characteristic, had depleted him and he felt drained. Curiously though, now that he had confronted Katharine his rage had lessened. A calm was settling over him.
Voice of the Heart Page 61
