The next day, still In the same unusual mood of extravagance, she went shopping and spent far more than she had intended on a chiffon dress the same deep aquamarine as het eyes. It was a more sophisticated style than she had ever worn before, with a completely bare back and the shoulders cut low to display the curve of her breasts. Used as she was to wearinn theatrical costume with its dramatic accentuation of the physical, she was unaware of how beautiful and provocative it made her look, and it was not until Verenskaya came Into her bedroom on Sunday night and threw her hands heavenwards that Melanie began to wonder whether she had chosen wisely.
'Am I too dressed up?' she asked.
'Too undressed, you mean!'
'Oh!' Melanle's hands flew to her throat. Til change Into something else. My black—'
‘Rubbish! I was teasing you! You look beautiful.' Verenskaya held out her hand and on the palm lay a pair of aquamarine earrings set In silver. Melanie had never seen them before and she gave an exclamation of delight
‘Wear them,' Verenskaya said. They were given to me by a young officer In the Polish Army; the one man I might have married had he lived.'
'Are you sure you want me to wear them?’
‘I would give them to no one else except you.'
Melanie put them on and the glittering jewels, dangling provocatively on either side of her face, gave added sparkle to her appearance, added confidence too, as she slipped into her coat and left the flat.
It was with some trepidation that she entered the drawing- room of the Ransome house a half-hour later, her heart pounding so heavily that she could barely hear her mother-in-law Introducing her to Herbert Fenwick, a grey-haired, stocky man with a bluff Yorkshire voice. It was only when the introduction was over and she turned to accept a drink from the butler that she realized Gregory Ransome was not in the room. Only then did her pulse steady, and she was able to listen to the conversation with a semblance of calm.
'I thought Lydia was coming with you,' Mrs. Ransome was saying to her guest.
'Gregory's bringing her. She was spending the week-end with some friends near his place in the country and he said he'd drive her into Town.'
'He might get held up driving at this time of night,' Mrs.
Ransome said, and glanced round for the butler.
'I've sent him to get me some more ice,' Herbert Fenwick «id, interpreting her look.
Then I'd better tell Cook myself to hold back dinner. I'd rather Lydia and Gregory waited for the souffle than the other way round I'
Left alone, Melanie did not know what to say to the man in front of her and there was an uncomfortable silence, broken finally by the Yorkshireman.
'I suppose you know I was your late father-in-law's partner?'
'Yes.'
‘We started together. John was the brains on the engineering lide, but I was the one who took care of the money.'
‘Very successfully, I'm sine,' Melanie said diplomatically.
'It was,' he said heavily, 'until the last couple of years when I wanted us to expand. John was dead set against it and—'
'Do you think you should be telling me all this?' she interrupted.
‘Why not? You're one of the family.' He leaned forward. Tell me, do you know exactly how ill your mother-in-law is?'
'I should think you'd know more about that than I would.'
'I only know what Gregory's told me. He said her heart was very bad, but I didn't know if he was exaggerating.'
Finding the conversation becoming more distasteful the more it progressed, Melanie stood up, but the man was either thick-skinned or determined, for he took no notice of her movements and went on speaking.
'There's something Gregory doesn't want me to do - concerned with the business, I mean - and I asked you about Mrs. Ransome because I wanted to make sure he isn't taking me for a ride.'
'I doubt if anyone could do that,' she said coldly.
‘You'd be surprised.' He stopped and rubbed his chin. 'I don't want to upset anyone, but there's a limit to how long I can wait. Business is business, you know.'
'I don't. But I'm sine you do I'
'You've a pretty sharp tongue in your head!'
'I thought you'd appreciate plain speaking.'
‘I do when there's a reason.' He gave her what he obviously hoped she would take to be a broad smile. 'But what have you got against me?'
'Nothing' she lied, and was relieved that her mother-in-law's return forced the man to change the subject.
‘Were you in time to stop the souffle going in? he asked.
Mrs. Ransome smiled. 'Luckily I was. Lydia was never punctual at the best of times and if she's coming back from the country…'
‘You're right there.' Fenwick drained his glass and set it on the table beside him. 'Mind you, she's better than she was, Trouble is she doesn't work.' Gloomily he stared down into his sherry glass. 'It's bad for a girl to have too much time on her hands. I'd get a sight more peace of mind if she settled down.'
'I always thought she would have been married years ago.' Mrs. Ransome looked across at Melanie. Lydia is so pretty and gay,' she explained.
'She's had lots of offers,' Fenwick said, 'but too many of them came from fortune-hunters. Luckily I found out in time, but one day I'm afraid—'
He stopped as the door opened and Gregory and a titian- haired girl came into the room. It was the thick glossy mass of auburn waves which Melanie noticed first, but almost at once came the realization that she had seen the girl before. Could it be possible? Was her imagination playing tricks? She watched as Lydia Fenwick came forward to be introduced, a smile of welcome on the wide full mouth and no look of recognition in the dark brown eyes.
'So you're Timothy's widow,' the girl said in a husky voice, and then without more ado turned to kiss Mrs. Ransome.
It was the voice which finally dispelled all Melanie's doubts, for never could she have mistaken that low, arrogant sound. As if turned to stone she remained seated in the corner of the settee, wondering how she would be able to get through the evening without giving herself away, and wondering too if there were any possible excuses she could think of in order to leave at once. She half stood up, but even as she made the movement she saw Gregory watching her, and knew it would be impossible to leave without having him demand an explanation later on. Miserably she settled back, turning to watch Lydia Fenwick with a fascination born of bitterness and horror.
What a difference a change in the colour of hair could make in one's appearance! Indeed, if Lydia had not possessed such an unusually beautiful voice, Melanie would have had some doubt as to whether or not it was the same girl she had met on the night of her wedding, for then the auburn hair had been blonde and the pet name of Bibsie had been used. She closed her eyes as agonizing memories washed over her and the bitterness she had thought forgotten welled up in her again.
No wonder Timothy had known Lydia Fenwick since they were in their prams! No wonder the girl had been angry and jealous that he had married someone else! With their fathers being partners in business it was obvious that a marriage between them would have been welcomed by both families.
Looking at the finely chiselled profile in front of her, as Lydia Fenwick turned her face upwards for Gregory to light her cigarette, Melanie was amazed that the girl had been so skilful in hiding, the fact that they had met before. At least she herself had come here tonight not knowing who Lydia was, but she could not believe that Gregory had not told the girl that Timothy's widow would be here tonight and she wondered whether the forewarning had helped her to carry off a situation which must, even for a most sophisticated person, be an embarrassing one. Yet looking at Lydia's confident manner as she laughed and talked with Gregory and Mrs. Ransome, Melanie knew that any embarrassment was entirely on her own side, and that whatever feelings Lydia might have, guilt or remorse had no part in it.
During dinner Melanie still found it impossible to participate in the conversation and was aware that her mother-in- law was loo
king at her with concern. But no matter how much she tried, she could not speak and longed only for the evening to be over so that she could return to the peace of her own room and think things out. Yet what was there to think about? She could never tell Mrs. Ransome the truth about Timothy and Lydia, and there was no point in telling Gregory. Indeed, from the relationship that appeared to exist between him and Lydia, she doubted if he would wish to hear anything about her that might be considered unflattering. Watching the way the auburn head kept bending close to the dark one, Melanie felt Herbert Fenwick had no need to worry that his daughter might fall in love with a fortune-hunter. Lydia wanted Gregory. It was obvious in the way she spoke to him, the way she looked at him, and the way she stayed close to his side even when they left the table.
It was the first time Melanie had seen Gregory in anyone's presence except his aunt's, and she was surprised by the ease with which he bantered Lydia's outrageous flirting yet at the same time managed to include both Fenwick and his aunt in the conversation. Any doubts she might have had as to his worldliness disappeared as she watched the way he took command of everyone, and she could understand why her mother- in-law found it so easy to turn to him when she wanted comfort or advice. Dislike him though she might, Melanie had to admit that Gregory was a man on whom one could lean and she could not blame Lydia for wanting him. Indeed, Gregory deserved a girl like Lydia, she thought bitterly, a girl who thought only of herself and who had the callous ability to look at Melanie with Innocent, guiltless eyes.
‘Who's the vendetta against?' a voice said quietly in her ear, and with a start that set her coffee cup clattering in her saucer she looked round to see Gregory by her side.
‘You startled me,' she said, avoiding the question.
'I'm sorry.' He took the cup and saucer from her hand. ‘You've finished your coffee. Would you like some more?'
She shook her head and he placed the empty cup on the trolley. Then to her surprise he came back and sat down beside her.
That's a new dress, isn't it,' he stated.
‘Yes.'
In my honour?'
In the family honour.'
‘I hope you'll always be concerned about family honour.' His glance rested momentarily on Herbert Fenwick and then turned back to her. Guessing what he meant, she nodded.
'Mr. Fenwick asked me if it was true that my mother-in-law had a bad heart.'
'Trust him to check up!' Gregory said tartly.
‘He's a clever business man like yourself. He wouldn't take anyone on trust!'
'Do you think I don't take people on trust?'
'I don't think - I know!'
'I grew up in a hard school.'
'Is that why you judge everyone harshly?’
'I've tried to be fair to you,' he answered.
'If you call your behaviour fair… !'
‘When I first met you I believed you to be the girl who had callously left my cousin on his wedding day. It wasn't until Madame Verenskaya told my aunt the truth that I learned Timothy had agreed to let you go on the tour.'
Hearing him repeat the statement that had come from Verenskaya's vivid imagination reminded Melanie forcibly of how little Gregory really knew of her. Yet what was the point of telling him the truth? He might not believe her - might even think she was lying in order to gain his interest The very thought of it made her move back instinctively from him, and as she did so her handbag slid to the carpet. She bent to retrieve it and Gregory did the same, their hands meeting over the clasp, hers fragile and white, his large and tanned. For an instant neither of them moved and his eyes travelled up her slender arms until they rested on the creamy skin of her shoulders. She straightened quickly, instinctively holding the bodice of her dress.
'I'm glad to see your curves belong to nature,' he commented. 'Most ballet dancers are too thin.'
Blushing, she took her compact from her bag and dabbed some powder unnecessarily on her nose. Why had Gregory come to sit beside her? Was It only to do his duty or had It been to see if he could embarrass her into a faux pas? She glanced at him and seeing that he was still watching her, busied herself again with her compact.
‘You don't need to gild the lily,' he said. ‘You look lovely as you are.'
'That's the first nice thing you've ever said to me.'
Is it?' He thought for a moment. ‘I suppose it is. Still, I doubt if you need my compliments. I should have thought you got plenty in your profession.'
She laughed, You shouldn't think of ballet dancers in terms of Toulouse-Lautrec. Think of Degas!'
'Talking about painting?' Lydia Fenwick's husky voice interrupted them as she sauntered over to the settee.
'Only indirectly,' Gregory answered. 'I was being told off about my ignorance of the ballet.'
Lydia gave Melanie a sweet smile, but looking at the dark eyes this time Melanie knew that Lydia was aware that she had been recognized. For an instant the smile hardened and the girl glanced over her shoulder to where Mrs. Ransome was talking to Herbert Fenwick. Melanie recognized the gesture for the warning it was meant to be and awarded Lydia full marks for quick thinking.
'It's funny how some men can't stand ballet,' Lydia said with amusement. Hut then it's a form of art about which people are so extreme.'
'On what extremity are you?’ Melanie asked.
'A devotee, my dear.' Slim fingers with red-tipped nails rested on Gregory's arm. ‘We must go and see the Verenskaya Company when their season opens.'
‘You might find the tickets difficult to get,' Melanie said.
'Surely you'll send some to the family,' Lydia said sweetly. We'd like four, wouldn't we, Gregory? Then we can take Mrs. Ransome and Daddy.'
'I'll buy them from the box office,' Gregory said. ‘You can't stop the Company making a proper profit!'
Lydia laughed and, putting her other hand on Gregory's arm, drew him gently but insistently to his feet. 'Come over and talk to Daddy. I can't let the family monopolize you any longer.'
With a half smile, Gregory allowed himself to be led away, and Melanie marvelled at the subtle way Lydia had relegated her to being one of the family. She half stood up, anxious to leave, yet once again settled back. If she walked out now Lydia would misconstrue it as pique, believing her to be angry at having Gregory Ransome taken away.
'As if I cared whether I spoke to him or not,' she thought angrily. 'Anton's right; I'm becoming obsessed with the Ran- somes.' She sighed. Dislike seemed to be as strong an emotion as love! Out of the comer of her eye she saw her mother-in-law beckon her and, grateful for someone to talk to, crossed over to her side.
‘You've been so quiet all evening, Melanie,' Mrs. Ransome said. 'I hope Lydia didn't say anything to upset you?'
'Of course not. What made you think she had?'
‘Experience. I've known her since she was a baby and even in her pram she hated competition!'
The words were an ugly reminder of something one of Timothy's friends had said to her, and Melanie replied with unexpected force, 'I'd never compete with Lydia. Never!'
'She thinks you are.'
Melanie did not pretend to misunderstand. 'I think she and your nephew are well suited to each other.'
'They've both got pretty forceful characters,' Mrs. Ransome admitted with a chuckle. 'But I think Gregory's the stronger.'
‘Would you like them to get married?' The moment the question was out Melanie wished she could draw it back, but it was too late and she hoped it would not be seen as anything other than curiosity.
'I think it's time Gregory had a wife,' Mrs. Ransome said, 'and Lydia's a sweet girl even though she's been spoiled.'
The answer made Melanie realize how blind people could be; and though in this particular case she was also irritated by it, she could see that in some instances it had its merits. At least as far as Mrs. Ransome was concerned it had prevented her from recognizing Timothy's real character. How could he have sold those controlling shares to Herbert Fenwick?
She jumped
to her feet, suddenly unable to remain in this flower-filled, overheated room any longer. 'I must go,' she said jerkily. 'We've an early call tomorrow.'
If you wait, I'm sure Gregory will take you home.'
'I don't want to break up the evening.'
Hardly aware of saying good-bye, she left the house, and driving back in the taxi which had been called for her, she wished that in leaving she had also been able to leave behind her memories. But they were with her tonight as strongly as they had been on the day of Timothy's accident, and they remained tormenting her throughout the long night.
She had always known that one day she would meet the girl who had turned her wedding day into a sham, but never had she thought that the meeting would take place under such ironical circumstances. Lydia had already destroyed the happiness she might have had with Timothy and now it seemed as though she might destroy the happiness she could have found with…
But even before she could bring herself to utter the name she cried aloud with horror. No, it couldn't be true! It wasn't true. Any emotion she might feel towards Gregory, any desire to make him think well of her, stemmed only from a determination to prove herself as a human being and not to prove herself to him as a woman. 'I don't care what he thinks about me,' she said aloud. 'If he wants to marry Lydia, he can do so. He means nothing to me. Nothing!'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Once again - as it had done in Australia - ballet became Melanie's escape.
With little more than a week to the opening night, the Company were rehearsing eight to ten hours a day, but long after everyone else had dragged themselves home, she and Anton remained behind to perfect the role that he had created for her in his own new ballet, with which Verenskaya had daringly chosen to open their London season.
Because it was only in work that she could find peace of mind, Melanie stayed in the rehearsal room even after Anton had gone home, fabricating excuses to remain behind and pretending that it would only be for a short while. But finally Anton, returning late one evening to collect a score, found her practising at the barre and after a moment of astonishment lost his temper.
Roberta Leigh - My Hearts a Dancer Page 10
