Diamond Cut Diamond

by Jane Donnelly

'Not till the doctor's seen you,' said Aunt Lucy firmly.

  'I've seen a doctor. I went to the hospital and it's only a little bump.'

  Aunt Lucy whipped up a silver-backed mirror from the dressing table and handed it over without a word, and Charlotte gasped at her reflection. This was no little bump. This was a great shining swelling, with the dark beginnings of an ugly bruise. The skin was unbroken, but it was visible proof of the force with which she had hit that windscreen, and it silenced her about jumping out of bed.

  'Mr Laurenson phoned Dr Buckston,' Aunt Lucy fussed around, smoothing the counterpane. 'He was out, but he'll be along, and what your father's going to say about this I do not know.'

  'Warn him it looks worse than it is,' said Charlotte. 'I must have a thick skull, because I had an X-ray and there's nothing cracked.' Aunt Lucy tutted, with her such-goings-on expression. 'What did you say to Saul?' Charlotte enquired.

  'I asked him what he'd been doing to you.'

  'Treating me very gently, actually, all things considering,' said Charlotte wryly.

  When Aunt Lucy had left her she lay thinking how strange it was that Saul should seem protective and kind when she was hurt and vulnerable, and yet when she was strong and sound in mind and body he seemed almost wholly threatening. Of course it would take a callous man not to be concerned when his passenger took a nosedive at the windscreen, but the memory of his touch lingered on her skin. She recalled his fingers undoing the buttons of her shirt, and she was breathing fast, and she wondered how it would have been if he had kissed her, if his hand had covered a breast.

  Georgy's huge eyes were fixed on her and she said, 'Can't you figure out what's going on? Well, neither can I, so maybe this is the beginning of that disorientation.' She laughed at herself then and thought, So he's sexy, and he carried me up here and practically put me to bed, and I'm only human. It wouldn't be hard to fancy him, but that doesn't mean to say I like him. Jeremy is the man I like, the man I love and trust. Next time anyone looked in she would ask for a phone, because she must ring Jeremy and tell him what had happened to her.

  She woke to a yelp from Georgy as Dr Buckston advanced on the bed. The doctor was an old family friend, but that didn't stop Georgy from backing under the dressing table and going on yapping until her father dragged him out and handed him over to Aunt Lucy. 'And what have you been up to, young Charlotte?' asked Dr Buckston.

  Her father looked worried; she always seemed to be worrying him lately. 'It could have been worse,' she said, 'I don't know how we missed crashing into that other car.' She remembered Saul swerving to avoid Kelly and said, 'He's getting a lot of practice dodging things these days,' then grimaced when the two men looked puzzled. 'Sorry, just a little private joke.'

  Dr Buckston checked her pulse and blood pressure again, shone a torch into her eyes, and finally smiled, agreeing that it could have been worse. She must stay where she was until tomorrow evening, but she was a very fortunate young lady, escaping with a bump and a bruise.

  He didn't say, 'Instead of a lacerated face and possibly a cut throat,' but that was what he was thinking, and so was her father. Her father was looking haggard, and Charlotte reached across impulsively to take his hand and say to the doctor, 'While you're here, this is the one you should be examining. He's beginning to look very tired. Can't you give him a tonic?'

  'He knows the tonic I recommend.' William Buckston looked over his spectacles at his friend. 'More leisure and less work.'

  Her father had never been a dynamic business man, theirs wasn't that kind of business, but if the doctor thought he had too much on his shoulders Charlotte could take on more responsibility for the day-to-day running of Dunscombes. She said, 'Maybe it's time we made it Dunscombe and Daughter,' and her father chuckled and she thought, He's like Aunt Lucy, he still thinks I'm a child.

  'Don't worry,' he said, 'I'm hoping to take things easier before long.'

  'Well, it can't be too soon,' said Dr Buckston. 'And how about a round of golf next week?'

  It had to be a good idea that she should lie here, as two doctors had given the orders, but having slept most of the afternoon and into early evening Charlotte lay wakeful and bored from about eight o'clock. She had spoken to Jeremy earlier.

  'Hello, love,' he'd said, 'I got your message. Are you coming round later?'

  'Not today,' she said. 'I was in a near-miss car accident and now I'm lying in bed, nursing a bump on my forehead, and they won't let me get up till tomorrow morning.'

  Jeremy's concern was gratifying. She could feel it coming over the phone in comforting waves, lapping her in love. He was appalled to think that Charlotte had been close to a real catastrophe. Was she sure she was all right? Did it hurt still? How had it happened?

  She told him how it had happened, with Saul Laurenson at the wheel, and Jeremy exclaimed, 'I'll kill him—risking your neck! He should have seen the other car.'

  'There were high hedges,' she explained, but that wasn't good enough for Jeremy.

  'There were crossroads, weren't there? He should have slowed down.'

  'If you slowed down at every hidden gate Or road going along the lanes when you'd got right of way,' Charlotte pointed out, 'you'd never get anywhere.'

  'What were you doing in his car anyway?'

  'He's looking at houses round here. My father lined me up to go with him.'

  'Why?'

  'I like looking at houses, usually, and I'm local, of course.' She began to smile. 'You wouldn't be jealous, would you?'

  'Not so long as you still think he looks like Dracula,' said Jeremy.

  'Oh, he does.' Dracula carrying her upstairs, leaning over her as she lay on the bed, dynamic and dark and very sexy. She was glad that Jeremy couldn't read her thoughts, and she said, 'I wish you could come over. You can't, though, my father's in no mood for letting you into my bedroom. I'll be up tomorrow, I'll see you the next day.'

  'And it is only a bruise you've got, and no complications and nothing else?'

  'Would I lie to you?' She laughed, cradling the receiver. 'Really, that's all.'

  'That's a clever girl.' Jeremy breathed deep. 'Bloody mad drivers, not knowing what they're doing half the time!' She supposed he meant Saul, as well as the man in the flat cap, and she thought, He knows what he's doing. He was never out of control of that car, he was always in control of everything.

  She said, 'Goodbye for now. Give the audience something to remember—and I wish I could be watching you from the wings.'

  Her father had brought in a portable TV and Charlotte watched that for a while. She was into a play that promised to be entertaining when Aunt Lucy came back again with the phone and announced, 'It's that Jo-Ann Marley.' Aunt Lucy had never had much room for Jo-Ann since Charlotte's sixth birthday party when Jo-Ann had asked her, 'Why does Charlotte call you Aunt Lucy? You're not her auntie, are you. You're only a servant, aren't you?'

  She had told Jo-Ann that Charlotte was resting, and why, and Jo-Ann had sounded very shocked and asked if it would be possible to have a word with her, so Aunt Lucy had relented and brought up the phone.

  'Why, hello,' said Charlotte, with no illusions at all as to why Jo-Ann was ringing. She wanted the lowdown on Saul, and although she was sorry about Charlotte's crack on the head, as soon as Charlotte had said she'd live Jo-Ann asked, 'Was Saul with you?'

  'Yes.'

  'He's all right, is he?' Now that would have been a tragedy, thought Charlotte. Girls Jo-Ann could do without, but she would have suffered at the loss of an eligible man.

  She said, 'Not a mark on him. At least, none he showed me.' 'Good,' said Jo-Ann. 'I say, who is he?' 'A friend of my father's.' 'Not yours?'

  'Not particularly.' More like an enemy. All the warning signals in her blood were ringing for him, and she frowned and went to rub her forehead and touched the bruise and cowered.

  Jo-Ann asked, 'Is he married?'

  'No,' said Charlotte. She added sarcastically, 'Not married and rich and probably coming to live round h
ere, so isn't that exciting?' But Jo-Ann was thick-skinned as they come and agreed enthusiastically, then went on, 'Is he at your place now?'

  Charlotte had asked her father that, and been told that Saul had gone back to his hotel, and now she said, 'No, he's staying at the Blue Boar.'

  'Well, hurry up and get well,' said Jo-Ann, and rang off, hardly giving Charlotte time to say goodbye.

  Charlotte banged down the phone and let out her breath in a long exasperated gasp, then sagged, deflated, against the pillows. Jo-Ann would phone him all right and maybe he should be warned, and Charlotte threw back the sheets, on her way to look up the number of the Blue Boar in the directory downstairs.

  Then she checked herself. She wasn't responsible for what Jo-Ann did, and if ever a man could look after himself Saul Laurenson could. Besides she was still feeling groggy. She lay down again and tried to watch the play, but from then on it seemed to get sillier, until the whole thing was bogged down in talk-talk-talk and she turned it off.

  She couldn't relax. Even her favourite books, that she kept in a bookcase in her room, failed to soothe her, and when Aunt Lucy looked in she kept her talking until Aunt Lucy protested, 'You're supposed to be resting, not chattering nineteen to the dozen.'

  'I'm not tired. I'm getting up in the morning.'

  'Are you, my lady? We'll see about that. Anyhow, what's happening tomorrow that makes it so important for you to be up and about?'

  'Nothing that I know of,' said Charlotte. But things were happening, all connected with Saul Laurenson, and it would be stupid to stay in bed when, after a night's sleep, she would be perfectly fine.

  She could have slept better. Aunt Lucy brought her another couple of pills with a glass of hot milk before she settled down, but she did a lot of dreaming and tossing that night. They were dreams she couldn't remember, but she woke from them several times and lay staring into the darkness and she couldn't get the dark face of Saul Laurenson out of her mind…

  'Cup of tea?' said Aunt Lucy, and Charlotte opened her eyes and sat up and smiled. Her headache was now no more than a niggle, and there were no other aches and pains. 'No damage,' she said, with heartfelt relief because until now she hadn't been quite sure that her injuries were superficial.

  'That's a beautiful bruise,' commented Aunt Lucy.

  'I'll comb a fringe over it. What's the time?'

  'Seven o'clock. You drink your tea and go back to sleep.'

  'Yes, I will.' Charlotte could do that today, without feeling guilty about Aunt Lucy being up and about. Today she was convalescent, until after nine o'clock anyway, when her father should have left the house and she would only have Aunt Lucy to contend with.

  Her father came into her room around eight o'clock, dressing gown over pyjamas and grey-faced as though he hadn't slept too well, and Charlotte gave him a specially bright and reassuring smile.

  'Lucy says you're feeling better.' He stood beside her bed, frowning at the purple swelling on her forehead.

  'I'm feeling fine.' She squinted at the bump, which was big enough to see with her eyes crossed. 'Better out than in.' She started to laugh, then sobered. 'Saul held me back, you know. He threw an arm across me while he was braking. If he hadn't—' She bit her lip and wished she had not brought up what would have happened if Saul's reflexes had been slower. She said wryly, 'I don't know about my life, but I guess I owe him my face.'

  'Don't forget that,' her father said. 'And you stay where you are until I get back this evening, then you can come downstairs.' He kissed her cheek and told her, 'I love you.'

  It was a long time since he had told her that, and she supposed it was because of the accident, because he might have lost her. 'Whatever happens,' he said, 'remember I love you.'

  So he was speaking for the future. But while she was asking, 'What do you mean ?' he was walking away, and when he looked in again he was dressed for work and just off.

  'And this is where I expect to find you when I come back,' he told her. 'Don't get being too clever.'

  'I'm not feeling too clever,' she had to admit. Even a slight headache was a handicap. She would need all her wits to deal with whatever was going on around here, but by evening she would be back in fighting form.

  She had no doubt there was a fight looming. She had never had to fight anyone before, let alone a man like Saul Laurenson. You only had to look at him to know he was a winner who didn't believe in rules, so she was forearmed there; but he could have a surprise. She looked soft and sweet and pampered, but she was almost sure she had a core of toughness. 'Wait for it,' she told herself, telling him although he couldn't hear her, 'because I don't trust you and I don't fancy being a loser either.'

  The headache got better. By the time the roses arrived it had gone, and Charlotte, who had read the newspapers from beginning to end and eaten a small tuna salad for her lunch, was bored.

  Aunt Lucy brought up the bouquet, dark red and fragrant, and Charlotte bounced up in bed with delight. 'Oh, how gorgeous, are they for me?'

  'Nobody sends me roses,' said Aunt Lucy.

  'Who are they from?'

  Aunt Lucy put them on the bed and Charlotte read the little card, 'For a clever girl, love, J.' That was thoughtful of Jeremy. She had told him not to come, but this was a lovely idea, and she brushed one of the velvety petals with her lips. 'Do you want them up here?' asked Aunt Lucy.

  Charlotte wasn't staying up here. She was going downstairs and she wanted her roses with her. She got out of bed, her roses in her arms. 'And where do you think you're going?' Aunt Lucy demanded.

  'To put them in water. Then I'm getting up.' She wheedled, 'Oh, come on, I can't lie in bed any longer. I'll come down and sit on the sofa. I'm not going to have a relapse now, am I?'

  'The doctor said you were to stay in bed till teatime. So did your father.'

  'We won't tell them,' said Charlotte.

  Aunt Lucy hesitated, but, apart from the bruise, Charlotte looked her usual healthy self, and the stairs were steep and Lucy Snowe felt she could watch over her just as well in the drawing room. 'All right,' she said grudgingly. 'Give them here.'

  Charlotte put on a red velvet robe that matched the roses, tied with a broad girdle that emphasised her slender waist. She wondered if Jeremy might turn up. If he did they might not let him come upstairs to see her, but they could hardly keep him out of the drawing room and the robe was a complement to the roses.

  They looked very effective in a big white bowl on a low table, and Charlotte, sitting on her heels, fiddled around until they were arranged to her satisfaction.

  The phone rang a couple of times. She had heard it ringing earlier while she was in bed, when Aunt Lucy or Maudie had answered. The news of her escapade was going the rounds and friends were phoning. Down here she answered, and told a couple of friends that the man in the car with her was a business colleague of her father's. Nothing to do with her. He might be buying a house and she was just looking with him. She didn't want any of them linking her with Saul Laurenson, because no way were she and he likely to get together.

  A third call was Jo-Ann Marley, and Charlotte wished she hadn't taken that, because she didn't have much to say to Jo-Ann.

  Yes, thank you, she said, she was much better today. It had really been next to nothing anyway, but it was nice of Jo-Ann to be asking. Only that wasn't why Jo-Ann was calling, so Charlotte waited and after a moment or two Jo-Ann said, 'By the way, I saw Saul last night.'

  'Did you?'

  Jo-Ann was getting confidential. Her voice sounded as though she was smiling a smug little smile. 'Well, I rang him—well, you'd said he wasn't a particular friend, and anyway, it's you and Jeremy Wylde, isn't it? or of course I wouldn't have.' The heck you wouldn't! thought Charlotte. 'He asked me to have dinner with him,' said Jo-Ann.

  'Quick work,' said Charlotte. She was surprised. She wouldn't have thought Jo-Ann was Saul Laurenson's type, although of course she was a very pretty girl and goodness knows she was available. 'Have a nice time?' she asked,
and Jo-Ann gurgled, 'You can say that again! I really did.' She sounded as if she was hugging herself. 'He's fantastic, and so handsome.'

  'Do you think so?' said Charlotte. 'I think he looks like Dracula,' and Jo-Ann went into squeals of laughter, 'Well, he can take a bite out of me any time!'

  'Ha ha,' said Charlotte. 'Oh, hello, how nice to see you. Sorry, Jo-Ann, I'll have to ring off, I've got a visitor.' There was nobody in the room but the dogs, and there was nobody coming, but she couldn't stand Jo-Ann a moment longer. The girl was a. fool, flirting with any man in sight. Charlotte could just imagine her, simpering across the dinner table at Saul; and if she knew Jo-Ann the evening's entertainment wouldn't end with dinner.

  Perhaps they ate in his suite. Charlotte could imagine that scene: the round table, perhaps candlelight, and two chairs drawn up; the half-open door into the other room, which would be in shadowy darkness. And she was filled with a violent impatience, frustration, anger almost. An emotion that she couldn't give a name but that could not possibly be jealousy.

  Her head was starting to throb again, warning her that she must take things calmly, that bump was a weak spot for a while; so she lay down on the big soft-cushioned Chesterfield, and closed her eyes and waited for the throbbing to subside.

  She heard the doorbell ring and the dogs rushed out of the room, Georgy well behind Wilbur and Tria. Then there was barking and somebody being let in, and she thought, it's going to be Jeremy, so she stayed where she was, lying back and doing her best to look pale and interesting.

  But it was Saul, and she wasn't surprised. Day and night lately she never seemed to be free of him. She sat up and he asked, 'How are you feeling?'

  'Oh, 'she shrugged, 'all right. No delayed action with you?' 'Nothing happened to me yesterday.' Charlotte said tartly, before she could stop herself, 'I wouldn't say that.' She hadn't meant to say anything and she babbled on, 'It was a pretty near thing, it could have shaken anybody. You might have felt some sort of shock later.' But he had nerves of steel, she was sure of it, so she stopped pretending she had been referring to the accident and asked, 'Was it a pleasant evening with Jo-Ann?'