This was becoming a scene—the thing she hated. She felt her cheeks growing hot. She resisted an impulse to run her hands through her hair—she was wearing a hat, anyway.
The wine waiter was showing Dominic a bottle. Receiving approval, he opened it and deftly poured a little into Dominic’s glass. Dominic tasted it, appeared to savor it, nodded again. The waiter beamed, filled their glasses and ambled off.
“Something constructive, you want? Well, the best thing I can think of is that you marry me.”
“Oh!” It was a gasp more than a word. How agonizing to be offered her heart’s desire—and with just about as much feeling behind the offer as if she were being handed a cigarette.
“Thank you. But I hardly think that would work out.”
“Why not? We like being with each other—I said so, you said so. You can be extremely useful to me in my work. And as far as my mother is concerned, the earlier the date, the more overjoyed she’ll be.”
“Your mother, yes, perhaps. But what about me?”
“Still thinking about the live-and-die fellow? Has he come into the picture again?”
“Yes.”
“Still in love with him?”
“More than ever.”
“And he?”
She lost her head completely then.
“He doesn’t care a hoot for me. But till he does, no weddings for me, thank you.”
Unconsciously she had pulled off her hat and was running her fingers through the crisp chestnut hair. Dominic flicked one brief glance at it, as he had before, and as before, her hands came down into her lap. She seized her glass with one of them and emptied it at a gulp.
“Careful,” he said. “Give you hiccups.”
“I don’t care!”
“Now calm down, Chloe. You won’t marry me. Very well, that’s agreed. Now we’ve got nineteen days—it was nineteen you said, wasn’t it—to think of something else. Have some of this food, it’s excellent.”
To avoid argument she took a small helping. She had a suspicion that he was laughing at her, though his face remained serious. His eyes were on his plate—she couldn’t see them. She began to plod through her meal, which tasted to her like damp sawdust.
“Tell me about how the plans for the reception are going,” he asked, smiling engagingly.
“Louise has those in hand. She’s arranging everything.”
“So? Chloe, I’ve got news for Louise.”
Her eyes widened. “About her husband?”
“Yes, Poor old Dick. His party got a message through at last. Been trekking for months. Got to a trading post with a radio, and now planes are going out for them. It’s quite an epic.”
“Oh, how wonderful! We must go back to Santa Clara quickly to tell her.”
Dominic said quietly, “You’re such a nice child, Chloe.”
Chloe was telling herself, Surely Louise will be pleased. She’ll go home, to wait for him. Things may work out, if she goes.
Dominic said gently, “Finish your lunch. A few minutes isn’t going to make all that much difference to Louise.” When they had eaten he made her have a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Then he drove her back to Santa Clara. The landscape that had lain so flat and featureless under the stars that first night was pleasantly green and flowery now. Corn and fodder and sprung up, asphodel lilies waved their pink heads. What a pity she would be leaving it so soon. What a pity she felt so very strongly about not marrying Dominic, her only love, because he so plainly didn’t return her sentiments. The best thing I can think of is that you marry me. No, thank you, Professor Vining. Not Chloe Linden. She still holds out for love, love, love.
Louise was with Mrs. Vining when they got back home. Dominic, holding Chloe’s hand as they went in to see his mother, told her the good news right away.
Chloe, watching her face, saw it freeze over, as if an icy wind from Antarctica, where Dick was, had blown over it. But in a second she had recovered herself. The contessa said, “Louise dear! It only needed this to make my happiness complete.”
“Isn’t it wonderful, a miracle, Aunt Olivia?”
“We’ll telephone and see about a reservation for you right away, Louise,” Dominic said. “You’ll want to be in London when they arrive.”
The look of fury rippled for a second over the heart shaped face again—again, like a squall over water, darkening it. Nobody saw but Chloe.
“Make it the day after the reception, Dominic dear,” Louise begged sweetly. “Dick wouldn’t want me to desert Aunt Olivia without seeing that through.”
“Perhaps there will be time for Dick to fly out here,” the contessa said, patting Louise’s hand. “Wouldn’t that be delightful, Louise, dear?”
“Bliss, Aunt Olivia.”
Dominic’s face was quite expressionless. He said, “Well, think it over and let me know what you want done, Louise. You look wonderful, mother.”
“So much better, dearest. I’m beginning to want to go out, I’ve been in this prison so long.”
“You will, but don’t be in a hurry.”
“I mustn’t miss the spring flowers.”
“You won’t, I promise.”
She began to talk, eagerly, about the reception. Dominic humored her, and then up came the question Chloe dreaded. “We’ve left it to you to decide a date for the wedding—will you, dear? So that we can announce it then.”
He laughed and said soothingly, “Mother, dear, you go a little too fast. We must give Chloe time to go home and consult her own family, mustn’t we?”
Somehow he managed to cajole her. But that doesn’t solve the problem, Chloe thought despairingly. There is no solution—except, as he says, to marry him. But I won‘t do it. I won’t—Or only when I’m sure he loves me. He loves me—he loves me not. He loves me not.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Finding Louise in that living that evening before dinner, alone and waiting for the appearance of Mark and his jug of Martini, Chloe said, “I’m glad, Louise, about your good news.”
“Thanks, sweetie. So am I—I suppose. At least we can settle something. But you didn’t expect me to go into transports and rush off home to wait for him? Not on your life. Let him come here for me. Not that I’m in the least sure how I’ll receive him.”
“But he must have had a terrible time.”
“So what? He likes that sort of thing, apparently. He could have been a first secretary in some decent diplomatic post by now—but no, he must go on this ridiculous expedition. I sometimes think he must be mental.”
She blew out a cloud of Turkish tobacco smoke and added with a grin, “Of course, they may give him a knighthood, like Hillary and Fuchs. That might gave me something to think about. Rather nice—Lady Carlyon—don’t you think?”
“Very.”
“I’ll have to give the matter my consideration. Ah, here comes Mark, thank God. Darling, I hope they are very cold.”
“Cold as the nether pit, wherever that is,” Mark assured her.
“Precious! What should we do without our Mark?” Mark, standing with his back to Louise as he poured out the large drink she demanded, caught Chloe’s eye. His left eyelid dropped toward her in a wink. She knew he was thinking, Good as a play, Louise
Next morning, at breakfast, Chloe found a note from Louise waiting beside her plate.
“I feel like a day off from entertaining callers and sickroom attendance, ducky. I think I’ll come with you to the dig. Wait for me, will you?”
It was high-handed, but Chloe was so relieved that Louise’s antagonism seemed to have died—after all, she had no need for it now, now that she could look forward to Dick’s return, and perhaps being Lady Carlyon—that she didn’t greatly mind waiting. There were plenty of things she could do in the library.
Louise came down, airily unapologetic, at half-past nine in pale corduroy slacks, a light shirt, a brilliant scarf, and her bizarre sunglasses.
She kept up a gay stream of chatter all the way to the dig, mostly about the fr
iends she had made and the parties she’d been to in Malta. She was entertaining and not unduly malicious. Chloe began to wonder if in time she might grow to like her. She looked attractive in her casual getup. It would be a thrill for Toby and the others, anyway.
But Toby and the others, as well as Dominic and Mark, were too busy when they arrived to do more than wave and shout, “Good morning.” The laborers were evidently uncovering something exciting.
For once Louise didn’t insist on being noticed.
“I’ll come down with you,” she said as Chloe started carrying her equipment into the sanctuary. “Here, let me take some of that gear.”
“Thanks.”
“Where are you going to work?”
“In the place of the oracle. Some carvings high up—rather tricky. I’m afraid you’ll find my preparations very boring. I’ll have to try out my lighting.”
“Not to worry about me. If I get bored I’ll explore. Or go to sleep on that nice turf in the sun. I mean to have a gorgeous tan to show Dick.”
“You’ve got one already.” Chloe spoke absently. Louise’s chatter rather distracted her and she wished she would go away and play. “If you explore, do be careful. Keep off where it says DANGER.”
Soon Louise did go away, and there was peace for a time, broken when she came back to say, “Do come and take a color picture of me outside, Chloe, pet. You never did, that other time. And a black and white for the Prattler—they’ll eat it up.”
“No, really, Louise, I’m just going to start on this...”
“You mustn’t be a meanie. Let your work go hang for a bit and do this little thing to please Louise—mm?”
Chloe gave in and spent a tiresome fifteen minutes satisfying Louise’s vanity. Then she went back to the place of the oracle, and climbed the small ladder she used for photographing things high up on the walls. It was a little precarious, as the floors of stone slabs had been worn into uneven grooves and hollows by the treading of prehistoric feet. However, she battled on happily—difficulties always stimulated her.
Louise, as far as she knew, was sleeping or sunbathing. A blessed silence wrapped the sanctuary. Faintly, she could hear the voices of the workers and the team, but not so as to distinguish one from another.
The silence was broken some time later—an hour at least, Chloe thought—by calling her name.
“Chloe! Come here quickly! I’ve hurt myself.”
Louise—her voice not quite a scream, but urgent, frightened.
Chloe climbed down to the ground. “Coming. Where are you?”
“Down here.”
Chloe hurried—impossible to run on this rough stuff—toward where the voice came from. Louise was groaning now. The groan came from below. Surely she hadn’t ignored the notice that said DANGER—NO ENTRY and gone down into the treasure chambers?
It seemed she had.
“Louise!” Chloe called.
“I’m down here. I’ve twisted my ankle. Can you come and help me up?”
“But, Louise, you knew not to go down here...” she began. She was thinking about the trick step. Which was it? She didn’t...
As if to answer her thought Louise said petulantly, “Don’t be silly. I knew about the step. It’s the fourth one. Look out for it. The one that opens. And for God’s sake hurry. I’m in agony.”
“All right. Coming!”
Chloe ran down the wide shallow steps, carefully jumping over the fourth onto the fifth. As she put her weight onto her right foot she felt the step give way. She had a moment of sickening terror, of losing her balance, of hearing Louise’s low laugh. She screamed wildly. Then she was falling, falling. It seemed a long time before she struck the icy water below and went under...
Louise jumped to her feet, ran up the steps past the gaping opening, slipped outside and arranged herself on the turf. A second or two later running figures came in sight, Mark first. She sat up blinking.
“What’s the hurry, Mark dear?”
“Somebody screamed. Is Chloe in there?”
“Why, yes. I left her an hour ago, fixing up steps and lights and what have you.”
Mark had left her before she finished and was running on. Dominic, Toby French and Dr. du Plessis followed.
Louise narrowed her eyes, grinned maliciously and got up, without haste, to follow them. She wished she had had time to push the step back into place again, then they wouldn’t have had a clue where the scream had come from. But who would have thought the girl had such lungs? It had been a question of getting out quick and establishing her alibi...
They were searching now, calling out, “Chloe! Chloe! Where are you?”
Where she won’t answer ever again, won’t marry Dominic ever, Louise was telling herself. She didn’t know there was water below the step. She visualized rocks, and a broken body lying on them. She had spent a lot of time, lately, thinking about how she could use the trick step to get rid of Chloe. She hadn’t imagined it would be so easy.
Luck had been with her. It had had to be done, by fair means or foul... They had discovered the trick step was open. A pity. But of course too late, so what did it matter? She went along the rough passage and stood beside the little group. Mark was on his knees, leaning over, peering, shouting. Dominic said, in a voice she hardly recognized, “Get the flashlight, and ropes.” Dr. du Plessis rushed off, pushing rudely against her when she got in his way.
“W-what happened?” she quavered; but no one answered. They were all listening too hard for a voice from below. Only there wouldn’t be any voice.
But there was.
Faintly it came.
“Yes, yes, I’m here.”
Dominic was on his knees, too, now.
“Chloe! Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“By the opening. I c-couldn’t find the shelves.” Opening? Shelves? Louise wanted to scream in rage and frustration.
“Look out. I’m coming down,” Dominic called out. He gave a few rapid orders, then without the slightest hesitation let himself down through the hole, and dropped.
“Gosh,” Mark said softly. Du Plessis came running back with Dominic’s powerful flashlight and two coils of strong rope...
The water was icy hold. Chloe had come up gasping with shock and fright. She shook the water out of her eyes and waited for them to get accustomed to the darkness. Instinctively she trod water. She thought, Louise did this to me. It can’t be true, but she did. She told Dominic she’d kill me, but I wouldn’t believe it. I thought she was beginning to like me. I thought she’d given up thinking about Dominic ... Did anyone hear me scream? I know I screamed. But did they hear? Will Dominic remember about this place, when they can’t find me? Even if Louise closes down the step, doesn’t tell them?
She could see a little now. There to the left was the opening. She began to swim toward it, afraid of getting a cramp and sinking before she reached the ledges outside. She had only gone a few yards when the voices called down to her. They ceased. And then there was a tremendous splash behind her. Arms and legs flailed the water. She felt hands take hold of her, draw her through the opening, pull her up onto the blessed security of a rock ledge.
“You said it had to be someone who was ready to die for you,” said a voice bitter with anger. “Do I qualify now?”
“Oh, Dominic, I’m so cold.”
Strong arms went around her, held her close for a brief moment. Then they shook her, hard.
“You little fool. You knew it was out of bounds, down there. What the devil were you doing?”
Voices shouting cut her short. Dominic took his arms away and said brusquely, “We’ve got to swim over to the rock staircase. Look, they’re shining the torch on it now. Can you make it?”
Through chattering teeth she said, “Are there—th-things in the water? Creatures?”
“Got to risk that. I’ll make a big splash. Come on. No good sitting here freezing.”
He plunged in, and she followed
. At least we can die together, she thought dimly. Somehow the ice of the water turned to fire. They splashed their way through its blue luminosity and Dominic helped her out onto the first of the shelves. The light played on them.
“Now, we’ve got to climb up. I’ll go ahead, then I can give you a hand. Come on. Stand up.”
“I can’t.” Her legs felt as if they were full of cotton, would bend if she put her weight on them. She was cold again, her teeth chattering.
Dominic pulled her to her feet, and she leaned against him weakly. I can’t do it, I’ll fall back into the water, she thought.
Dominic was already on the shelf above her. He held out his hand. He was shivering, too.
“Come on, step lively,” he said, in that brisk way of his, when what she wanted was gentleness, sympathy. But she stepped.
“There, easy, isn’t it? Now the next one.”
Shelf by shelf they moved upward, the light from above helping them, showing them where to tread. Water dripped from their wet hair and wet clothes. Chloe had lost her shoes; her nyloned feet stepped into the puddles Dominic’s canvas ones left. The rock was cold, as cold as the water.
Over their heads the bats squealed, detached themselves, blundered out toward the light oblong at the mouth of the cave. Chloe’s scalp crawled—bats made for your hair, didn’t they? They stuck in it and had to be removed by clipping away your hair. A nanny’s story, but she couldn’t help thinking about it.
“There. This is where it peters out, Chloe. We can’t go farther.”
She remained on the top below him peering upward. Faces, unidentifiable blurs, hung around the rim of the hole above.
Dominic shouted, “Ready now. Let the ropes down.”
Two thick ropes snaked downward, somebody above set them swinging back and forth like pendulums, and Dominic, leaning far out, managed to catch hold of them and draw them in.
“Now I’m going to be very nautical and make what they call a bosun’s chair for you,” he explained chattily, bending and looping and tying deftly. “You see—this loop is for you to sit in, this other goes behind your waist. You hang on here and here. Then they’ll pull you up. Got a good head?”
Summer Lightning Page 17
