Odo leant forward. ‘If you are riding, my dear, then I shall certainly be of the party.’ Cora felt a damp spray of spittle on her cheek. ‘I don’t want you to disappear again. It’s really quite a struggle,’ he leant back to address the assembled company, ‘to keep up with my wife.’
He had raised his voice and the challenge in it rang out across the room. Cora saw Teddy turn round and the card players look up. She knew that she must do something to contain the situation – her mother was glaring at her as if to say that it was her duty to take this in hand. Odo was swaying more obviously now, and he was clearly working up to another outburst. She glanced over at Charlotte but she was looking at the floor. This was a test of her mettle as a hostess, she was being watched to see how she would handle this.
She stepped forward and put her hand on Odo’s arm, and said with all the charm she could muster, ‘Well, there I have to agree with you, we all struggle to keep up with your wife. She is the standard we aspire to. Why, I am sure that in a matter of weeks we will all be wearing dresses that are crawling with insects, because where Charlotte Beauchamp leads, we can but follow. But now I want you to come with me, Sir Odo. We have a new statue in the summer house that I would love your opinion of, and yours too, Teddy. I would very much like to know what you two connoisseurs think of the Canova by moonlight.’
Odo looked reluctant but allowed himself to be led out of the room, Teddy following behind. Charlotte’s eyes had not moved from the floor during this exchange. Now she raised her head and looked at Mrs Cash.
‘Your daughter has so many accomplishments, Mrs Cash.’
Mrs Cash gave a regal nod. ‘I like to think that I raised her so that she could handle any situation.’
The evening air was still warm, Cora could smell roses and the slight whiff of salt coming in from the sea. The moon was a day or two away from being full and lit up the white stone of the summer house. Cora waved away the footman holding a lantern.
‘No, I think we should see this by moonlight.’
They walked down the gravel path, the stones scraping beneath their feet, loud in the still garden. Odo had subsided, he was silent until they stopped in front of the pavilion, which had a bell-shaped roof supported on six columns. Behind the dull stone of the pillars, Pysche was being revived by Eros’s kiss, her naked torso stretching upwards to meet his lips. Cora had bought the statue from Duveen’s sight unseen (after checking its provenance, of course). She had once heard Ivo admire a Canova statue in Venice and she thought it might please him. When it had emerged from the packing case, she had been surprised and faintly disturbed by Eros’s muscular arms and the ecstatic arch of Psyche’s back as she sought her lover’s mouth. By day the statue was arresting but now in the silvery half-light it was unbearably intimate. The flickers of light on the sinuous marble curves made Cora feel as if she was trespassing on a moment of private rapture.
Odo stepped forward and ran his hand down Psyche’s naked flank.
‘Such a glorious finish, don’t you agree, Mr Van Der Leyden? Almost as good as the real thing.’
‘The technique, certainly, is faultless,’ said Teddy carefully. He felt almost nervous standing in front of the statue with Cora. He knew that she had brought him down here as ballast against Odo but it was hard not to think of that other moonlit night in Newport when she had twisted her face up to his, Psyche to his Eros.
‘I’m glad you approve, Sir Odo. I feel it works quite well here in the summer house,’ Cora said, wishing that Odo would stop caressing the statue.
‘I daresay Ivo likes it,’ Odo said. ‘There’s a man who appreciates the female form.’
Teddy felt for his cigarette case. As he struck the match he saw the yellow flare in Odo’s eyes.
‘Oh Teddy, may I?’ Cora looked at his cigarette.
‘Of course, forgive me.’ He offered her his case.
‘My mother would be horrified if she could see this.’ She leant forward into the flame and the emerald around her neck flickered. Teddy watched her put the cigarette to her lips.
‘We won’t tell her then, will we?’ Teddy appealed to Odo. ‘We can be depended on to keep a secret.’ But Odo wouldn’t look at him. He was resting his flushed cheek against the cool marble of Eros’s wing.
Cora inhaled gratefully. ‘Do you remember, Teddy, the Goelet party where the cigarettes were made out of hundred-dollar bills? Do you think many people actually smoked them?’
Teddy laughed. ‘I certainly didn’t. In fact, I don’t think anyone did. All those Newport millionaires take money much too seriously to see it go up in smoke.’
‘It seems vulgar now, doesn’t it?’ Cora said hesitantly. ‘Although at the time I remember thinking it was rather smart.’ She blew out a thin stream of smoke.
Teddy said, ‘Autre temps, autre moeurs. I find lots of things feel different over here.’ He looked her straight in the eye. ‘But there are a few things that feel just the same.’
Cora felt the meaning in his glance and frowned as if he had brought something difficult into her garden of delightful reminiscence. She tossed her cigarette on to the grass and ground it down with her foot.
‘I must go in and check on the Prince,’ she said.
Teddy watched her disappear into the house and he found that he was holding his breath.
‘What a touching little scene.’ Odo’s voice startled him, and Teddy coughed on his cigarette. ‘Sadly for you, the Duchess must be the only woman in England who is in love with her husband. Beautiful, rich and faithful, how foolish of you to let her get away.’
Teddy clenched his fist in his pocket. He knew he should not rise to the bait but he could not help himself saying, ‘Funnily enough, I didn’t want to be the husband of a fortune.’
‘How very honourable of you.’ Odo’s tone was bitter. His hand was still stroking the Psyche’s cool flank. ‘I wish I could say the same of my wife. She was beautiful and I was rich. I thought it was a fair exchange, but Lady Beauchamp hasn’t kept her side of the bargain. All she had to do was play the wife in public. I guessed, of course, that she had a tendresse for the Duke – but then everybody has a weakness, even me,’ and he giggled. ‘But she had to flaunt her feelings in public. I could have forgiven her everything but not that.’
Teddy lit another cigarette. He didn’t offer one to Odo.
‘So why have you come here?’ he said. ‘I would have thought this was the last place you wanted to be.’
‘Too good an opportunity to resist, old boy. I knew it would come and here it is. My dear wife is not the only one who can behave badly in public. I intend to cause a nice little scene.’ He giggled again and started to move towards the house.
Teddy, catching his meaning, put his hand out to grab the other man’s arm but Odo was too quick for him. He darted behind the statue, and said, ‘Don’t try and stop me, it’s really not in your interests to do so. Surely you must see that the sooner your old friend the Duchess knows what’s going on under her nose, the sooner she will need the comfort of an “old friend”.’ Teddy tried to make another grab for him but Odo saw him coming and stepped behind a pillar. They were both very drunk but Teddy had been made clumsy by alcohol while Odo seemed to be quite surefooted. Teddy reached out again to catch his arm but Odo made a sudden movement away and Teddy fell to the ground, hitting his head. He lay on the ground stunned, his mouth tasting the granite. His thoughts and feelings were swirling around his head like quicksilver, unpredictable and reluctant to coalesce. He knew that he must act, that he should stop what was about to happen, but he found himself quite passive, his limbs relaxing into their stone bed, because somewhere he also knew, and hated himself for it, that Odo was right.
Cora surveyed the long gallery from the door. The Prince was still playing cards, Father Oliver was with her mother and Lady Tavistock, Sybil and Reggie had not moved – nor, it seemed, had their chess pieces – and Ivo was still playing in the music room. She wondered where Charlotte was – she wouldn’t
blame her for retiring to bed so that she could escape from Odo. She tried to imagine what their marriage could be like. Anyone could see they were not happy and yet when they were together they seemed so glittering and powerful that you could not bear to look away. She wondered what they talked about when they were alone. Clearly there must be something that bound them together, some affinity or more likely weakness that they shared. Cora had been shocked when Charlotte had confessed her contempt for her husband, but there was something even more disturbing about the way she was acting up to him tonight, as if they were playing a game, the rules of which only they knew. She shivered with unease as she walked down the gallery towards the music room. She wanted to see Ivo, to remind herself of her own good fortune.
He was playing something she didn’t recognise, something fast and showy with cascades of notes. She walked into the music room and saw, rather to her surprise, that Charlotte was standing beside the piano. They were both facing away from Cora. As Ivo came to the end of a passage, Cora saw Charlotte lean across and turn the page of the music. She did this deftly, without fuss, and as far as Cora could see no look passed between her and Ivo, yet there was something in the intimacy of the movement, the anticipation and answering of need without any apparent communication, that troubled Cora more than any look could have done. She stood there in the doorway, trying not to put the dread she felt into words, trying to summon up the bright smile and the outstretched hand, trying to go back to the way she had felt a moment ago – when she felt a gust of hot breath on the back of her neck, and Odo’s voice in her ear.
‘They make such a lovely couple, don’t they? It’s as if they understand each other perfectly.’
Cora felt herself go rigid at this revelation of her own unspoken thought. She was about to move away when he went on, ‘Such a pity really that you and I are here. So inconvenient.’ Odo’s voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but he was so close to her that it was impossible to pretend she had not heard.
She turned her head a little and said, ‘Oh, but I’m not jealous, Sir Odo. Charlotte and Ivo are old friends. I could hardly expect him to discard all his acquaintances on my account. And besides, I like your wife too. Shouldn’t a husband and wife share the same tastes?’
Odo said nothing and Cora waited. Waited for him to advance or retreat – she would not give him the opening, she would do nothing to invite the revelation that she sensed burning up those bright, fleshy cheeks. If he turned away now she would go on as if nothing had happened, pretend that she had never seen Charlotte lean over Ivo as if she owned him, or that Ivo had played on without looking up because he knew that Charlotte would turn the page at exactly the right moment. Cora fingered the emerald on her breast. She could do it, she thought. She would touch her husband on the shoulder and suggest that he played something from La Belle Hélène as the Prince was so partial of Offenbach; she would smile at them both without disturbing the surface, and the Prince would compliment her on a lovely evening and they would all go peacefully to bed. That is what she would do and she would not look back.
But then Charlotte leant over to turn another page and her lips half parted. Odo was breathing hard now, and Cora knew even as she saw herself sliding gracefully along the long gallery, a hostess in command of her troops, that he was about to shatter her elegant campaign and that she was glad of it.
He stepped back from her and turned his body so that his next remark could be heard by everyone in the long gallery.
‘I don’t think you would like my wife so much, Duchess, if you knew where she went on the day of Lady Salisbury’s pageant. Slipping away like a bitch on heat to meet your husband at the docks. She didn’t even bother to make up a credible excuse. Not that anyone would have believed it, as everybody knew where she’d gone. Perhaps I’m being unreasonable but I really think she could have waited till after the show.’ Odo started quietly enough but as his rage overtook him, his voice became higher and louder. The music stopped and Cora felt the silence around her sting. She stared at the floor, she could not bear to look up and see the confirmation in their faces – that everyone knew about Charlotte Beauchamp and her husband, everyone, that was, except her.
And then, at last, the silence was broken.
‘It’s time you went to bed, Sir Odo. You can apologise in the morrrning, when you’ve sobered up.’ The Prince’s voice was thick with contempt. ‘Now, Duchess Corrra, perrrhaps you would like to show me your Canova. I feel the need for some fresh air.’
Cora felt a hand on her arm and she looked up and saw that the Prince’s pale blue eyes had lost their heavy-lidded indolence and were filled with something approaching concern. She swallowed and managed to say, ‘Yes, it is a lovely evening, sir.’
The Prince smiled his approval and steered her down the gallery. She looked straight ahead, trying not to let her American smile falter. As they reached the door she heard the noise behind her swell.
On the steps they passed Teddy, who noticed the angry welts on Cora’s chest, flaming red against the dark green gem. He realised that Odo must have made his ‘nice little scene’. Cora’s face was set, her mouth drawn back into a horrible imitation of a smile; she looked straight through him and she walked down the steps with the Prince as if she was made of glass. Teddy felt his palms go sweaty with guilt. He could have stopped Odo going back inside, he had had the chance and yet he had done nothing. He walked up the stairs into the gallery, trying not to think of Cora’s brittle shoulders and that terrible smile. No one looked at him as he walked in, the company had formed into little clumps around the room; only Odo stood alone, bent over with his hands on his knees as if he had just been running. No one was speaking to him or even looking at him, he was like a prizefighter collapsed after losing a bout, his audience indifferent. Teddy hesitated for a moment. Then he caught sight of the Duke at the piano with Charlotte Beauchamp standing beside him. They were not looking at each other, it was as if they were enchanted, as if they were trapped there forever, waiting for the spell to break.
Teddy walked over to Odo and tapped him on the shoulder. Odo looked up at him, his cheeks scarlet, his blue eyes bloodshot, and when he saw Teddy he smiled.
‘Too late, Mr Van Der Leyden, you’ve missed all the fun.’
The force of Teddy’s punch sent Odo sprawling on the floor. When he picked himself up his nose was bloody but his smile was still there.
‘I’m not sure what I did to deserve that. You should be grateful to me, old boy.’
Teddy reached back to hit him again, but he felt a hand on his arm. He saw it was the Duke’s friend, Greatorex.
‘Leave him, he’s not worth it,’ Reggie said. ‘Besides, he’s drunk. Wait till he’s sober.’
Teddy allowed himself to be led away. He heard a woman say in a low, commanding voice, ‘Bugler, help Sir Odo to his room. He is feeling unwell.’
Bugler clicked his fingers and two footmen took Odo by the elbows and marched him the length of the gallery. Odo’s smile did not falter for a second.
Teddy said, ‘I tried to stop him, coming in, you know. Was it very bad?’
Reggie looked at him and said, ‘Bad enough. Beauchamp is a cad.’
Teddy groaned. ‘I should have punched him in the garden.’
‘Perhaps, but it’s not your quarrel, is it?’ and Reggie glanced over at the Duke. Teddy followed his gaze and saw the Duke stand up and close the piano lid with a click. Ignoring Charlotte, who still stood with her back to the long gallery, he walked towards the company and looked across them with a mirthless smile.
‘Well, I think that’s enough entertainment for the evening, so if you will excuse me.’ He made a half bow in the direction of Mrs Cash and the Double Duchess and walked down the gallery, his long strides striking the stone flags with metronomic precision.
Teddy looked at Charlotte Beauchamp’s profile. How would she react, he wondered, to what had happened? In a moment, she turned and he had his answer – she was smiling and, unlike the Duke
’s, her smile appeared to be one of genuine delight.
She glided towards him. ‘I confess I’m in your debt, Mr Van Der Leyden. I know I am being disloyal, but Odo deserved that. He has a shocking head for drink. I wouldn’t mind if it made him maudlin, but he just gets nasty. Poor Cora. I shall make Odo grovel tomorrow, if he dares show his face, that is.’ And she put her hand lightly on Teddy’s arm to show that they were all connected whether they liked it or not.
Despite himself, Teddy was impressed by her bravura. He glanced over at Mrs Cash and the Double Duchess to see if they would challenge her, but both women looked relieved to see that order had been restored.
Teddy made a little bow to acknowledge his appreciation of her performance and signalled to the footman to bring him a drink. The man brought him a schooner of brandy. He was downing it when Mr Cash walked over to him.
‘Well done, Teddy. That son-of-a-bitch got what was coming to him. Would have hit him myself, but my wife would never have forgiven me.’ He shrugged to indicate his helplessness.
Teddy finished his brandy.
‘It was my pleasure.’ He looked at the older man’s handsome, acquiescent face and he felt a wave of rage and scorn flood through him. They were all going to pretend that nothing had happened, they would leave the unpleasantness behind and go on serenely like swans sailing over filthy water. And Cora would have no choice but to swim with them, never looking down. He put down his glass but it missed the table and fell to the ground, shattering as it hit the stone floor.
He looked around at the faces that had turned to the source of the noise.
‘I think I’ve had enough,’ he said.
Chapter 26
‘Never to Stoop’
THE NEWS OF ODO’S OUTBURST REACHED THE servants’ hall before Cora and the Prince had got halfway to the summer house. The footman was so full of his news that he forgot to put down the heavy silver tray he was carrying and stood there holding it, laden with glasses, as he told them what had happened upstairs. The upper servants were taking their pudding in Mrs Softley’s room so they missed the first telling but word soon reached them via the maid when she brought in the Madeira and sponge cake.
The American Heiress Page 34
