by Jane Arbor
Lois was still singing when Maryan, facing the dais, felt a touch upon her shoulder. Raoul? He had come? She turned, her smile alight for him, only to wonder at a darker expression than she had ever seen before.
A trick of light and shadow? No. He wore not the ghost of a smile and his eyes were angry. He said, ‘I’m glad I found you without too much trouble. You’ve got a lot to explain, haven’t you? But I’m not bandying words with you here. So you’d better come to my car. It is parked just round the corner on the Rue Sarasin.’
Maryan’s smile had already faded, leaving her lips stiff and fixed. His tone, his whole demeanour held a threat she did not understand. She hesitated, glancing back at the stage. ‘Lois—’ she said lamely.
‘—Is occupied. You won’t be missed for as long as I’ll need with you.’ As she still did not move, his anger exploded. ‘Ah, diable! I’m not kidnapping you! Come—!’
His grip upon her upper arm made an order of the last word as he pushed a way for them both through the crowd, marching her beside him like a prisoner until they gained a quieter street corner, when he released her almost as abruptly as he might have dropped a live coal.
At the kerb stood his car. Punctilious about opening the door for her, he took his own seat and drove in silence to an even quieter street where the grey, shuttered houses brooded, empty for the night, all of them dark. Raoul half turned in his seat.
‘One thing I’d like very much to know,’ he said. ‘How was it you dared to let Ninon see me first, when she had learned what she had about you and had warned you she would pass it on to me, if you persisted in keeping it from me yourself?’
This was so blatant a twisting of the facts that for a blank moment of confusion Maryan could only stare at him. As he waited, at last she faltered, ‘B—but it wasn’t like that at all!’
‘What wasn’t like that?’
‘Why, that Madame Barbe threatened to tell you what she knew—no, what she thought she knew. In fact she strongly advised me against bringing it up with you at all.’
‘Oh, come!’ Raoul snapped an angry finger and thumb. ‘You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?’
‘If you choose to believe Madame Barbe, no.’
‘And why shouldn’t I believe her? She had nothing to gain by keeping me in the dark over all this. You had!’
‘What?’
For a moment he seemed taken aback by the bald question. Then he countered, ‘You should know, I’d think. After all, apparently you admitted to Ninon that you came to Peyrolle to investigate your claim to my property. And that being so, you had everything to lose by my getting wind of your spying before it suited you that I should. Surely?’
‘I was not spying on you!’
He shrugged. ‘What’s in a choice of words? You came in order to poke your finger into my affairs. You made my acquaintance; you accepted my—friendship. Lois’s too, no doubt seeing both as an unlooked-for bonus of cover for your intrigue. Making use of us as your dupes, enjoying the joke on us! We have a word for that in our language. Laughing in our beards, we call it, and mon dieu!’ he threw back his head in disgust, ‘how you must have been laughing!’
Maryan shook her head. ‘Neither spying nor laughing. By the time I met you, I had taken the advice of my advocate and dropped my claim to Feu-Follet.’
‘Shelved it, don’t you mean? Comfortably biding your time while you took stock of your position?’
That sparked in her an anger which matched his. ‘You heard me—I dropped it,’ she said.
‘Huh! A likely story. For if it were true, why didn’t you say so at the time? At least to Lois, if not to me. Once it had died on you, why keep the news to yourself? Well, shall I answer that one for you? Because, though it hadn’t died, you hadn’t bargained for your ill luck, in the shape of a tattling lawyer’s clerk, to find you out. You thought you could safely keep it on ice—hm? Wasn’t that the way you argued the thing?’
Maryan said coldly, ‘Very far from it. I didn’t mention it, because as I got to know you better and grew fond of Lois, it completely lost its importance for me. So much so that I almost forgot it.’
‘As, I believe, you claimed to Ninon. Pretty weakly, she thought. Which makes two of us, I’m afraid. My scepticism doesn’t care much for that as a story either. I’d greatly prefer the truth.’
‘Which I’ve given you. I came with a claim to Feu-Follet. I was advised it had no legal validity—’
‘Advice you weren’t prepared to accept out of hand?’
‘I had to accept it.’
‘But not willingly, at your advocate’s mere say-so. If you had, you would have mentioned it some time or other as casually as you might have asked to have the salt passed to you at table. You didn’t. Why not?’
‘I’ve already said why not. And before I left France at the end of my job I would have told you all there was to tell.’
‘If then, and if you are as innocent of guile as you claim, why not earlier—at any old time you cared to choose after we had met? If you were innocent, you had nothing to lose by being frank with me. Yet you weren’t. So what did you think the story was going to spoil between you and me—perhaps you’d care to say?’
Maryan repeated wearily, ‘I’ve told you—it became so unimportant that I almost forgot it. And that being so, until Madame Barbe came to me with a hideously distorted version, I didn’t foresee that it need spoil anything between us.’
‘Yet you still didn’t volunteer your version!’
‘I meant to, as soon as I saw you.’
‘You saw me last night,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes—’ She bit her lip, feeling trapped.
‘And you knew, for I told you, that I should be seeing Ninon before you and I met again. Yet you risked that. Why?’
Almost drained of resistance, she said, ‘Oh, because I saw no risk! I wasn’t guilty of anything. Besides, Madame Barbe had advised me to say nothing to you, so why did she tell you herself?’
‘Probably because she thought it was something I ought to hear. And she had warned you that she would.’
‘She had not! But if it’s a case of her word against mine, I gather you’ve already made your choice on that?’
Raoul nodded. ‘Yes. I prefer hers. But only because it ties in a lot better with the facts as I see them—that you have held your tongue because you had something to hide and you weren’t willing to break up our relationship—or perhaps only yours with Lois—until you were ready to do so. Your plans all cut and dried—’ He broke off. Fully turned to her now, he took her by the shoulders. His face close above hers, his breath coming thickly, he muttered, ‘No harm done? Nothing changed between us, hm? Well, this—as my last word on what you’ve managed to spoil with your paltry finesse. Take it or leave it, as you please. I promise you, there’s nothing to follow—’ And his mouth came down on hers in a kiss devoid of all tenderness—an assault, an insult, withering in its contempt.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Angry, wounded to her core. Maryan was scarcely aware of their return to the Place where, in stony silence, Raoul remained at her side until Lois rejoined them.
Lois saluted him, ‘So you came after all?’
He nodded. ‘And am leaving again now.’
‘Leaving already? Why, how long have you been here?’
‘Long enough ‘ He turned away abruptly.
Lois, watching him edge through the crowd, shrugged a shoulder. ‘In a mood, obviously. How long has he been here?’ she asked Maryan.
‘I don’t know. He only approached me while you were doing your last group of songs,’ Maryan told her.
‘Only then, and he’s off again now? Why did he bother? However, how did my stuff go down? Did you hear anyone sounding pleased?’
‘Didn’t the applause tell you how much people liked it? And didn’t you know they would?’ Maryan countered.
‘Well, they always used to. I’m glad!—’ Lois broke off, impulsively took Maryan’s hand and
squeezed it. ‘I’ve got back ... haven’t I?’ she appealed. ‘I thought I’d never want to again. And then I did want to, but couldn’t make myself try. It was you who— But no, that’s not so either. True, if it hadn’t been for you—’ She checked again. ‘Look, shall we go to the Auberge Bon Chat for a drink, or if you’ve seen enough, shall we go home and open a bottle of wine there?’
‘I’ve had enough, I think,’ Maryan agreed, grateful for the chance of escape from a scene which had suddenly taken on a quality of nightmare. On the way back to the Pavilion she wondered whether her replies to Lois’s speculations as to why Raoul had ‘bothered’ were making sense or not. As they passed the Domaine main house Lois nodded towards Raoul’s car, standing outside it. ‘Monsieur, with only a quarter of an hour to spare for the Fete, still in no great hurry to return to Bayonne and his bed,’ she commented, leaving Maryan to wonder bleakly just what detraction of herself he was sharing with Ninon.
At the Pavilion Lois produced a Bearn rose and wineglasses, but Maryan stopped her as she was about to open the bottle.
‘Don’t. I know why Raoul came to the Fete and didn’t stay. It was only to see me where he knew he would find me. He couldn’t wait to say what he had to. Now there’s something I have to tell you, and afterwards you’—Maryan swallowed painfully— ‘may not want to drink with me.’
‘Not want to drink with you?’ Lois echoed.
‘Probably not. Listen—’
‘We shall still drink our rose together.’ Lois poured, lifted her glass in salute and sat down. ‘Now ?—’ she invited.
Maryan began, ‘Well, this is the truth, though Raoul won’t accept it and you may not—’ Lois listened in silence except for putting in a question here and there, and when Maryan finished on a lame, ‘That’s all. That’s how it was,’ Lois’s comment was explosive.
‘And he dares to judge you on the gossip of a little gamin of a lawyer’s office-boy?’ she demanded.
Maryan shook her head. ‘No, on his own disbelief that I could possibly have said nothing to either of you if I hadn’t had something to hide.’
‘But you told him there was nothing to your claim! You told her!’
‘Yes, and it was she—Ninon—who, after advising me not to tell Raoul, twisted the story to make it appear I had refused to tell him. That I simply cannot understand,’ Maryan said wearily.
‘Nor I. Unless—yes, what about this?’ Lois appeared to be working something out. ‘Supposing she calculated that you wouldn’t try to contact Raoul in Paris, but would wait until he came home, that gave her some time in hand? She has been in Paris herself; they were to fly back together. They didn’t, but she was not to know that. And though it was a gamble that you and he would meet before he collected her from the airport, she won out on that too. You had seen him here yesterday, but you hadn’t told him.’
‘Only by ill-chance. I meant to. But why, why should she be so devious? I know she has never liked me, she rarely misses a chance to snub me, but why should she want to discredit me so cruelly with Raoul?’ Maryan queried.
Lois regarded her steadily. ‘Can’t you guess?’
‘You mean—she could resent the small attention Raoul has paid me?’
‘Of course.’
‘But what could she have to fear from me?’
‘Ah, her sort doesn’t wait to fear competition; they believe in nipping it in the bud, and heaven knows Raoul has kept her busy enough.’ Lois drained her glass and set it down. ‘Meanwhile, this affair is going to be dealt with, here and now. We are going up to the house to confront Madame, you and I.’
Maryan stared, aghast. ‘No, we are not,’ she said.
‘On the contrary, yes. In fact, I am looking forward to it.’
‘No! I forbid you to go.’
‘Forbid?’ Lois drew herself up. ‘That is a word we Leducs don’t obey easily, ma petite!’
Maryan’s small gesture was resigned. ‘Very well, then, I beg you not to go or persuade me to go with you. Raoul could still be there—’
‘Very probably, and all the better. We can confront them both.’
‘No. Please, Lois—I will not have you brawling with Ninon Barbe or with Raoul about me. For now, it’s enough that you believe me, and I know that in time you can persuade Raoul to believe me too. But I refuse to face him again tonight, particularly in front of Ninon. Besides, I need time to think how to handle it or whether to handle it at all. In any case, I can’t embarrass you with Raoul by staying here any longer than I need. So if I write to Professor Maddern tomorrow to tell him I’m going back to England at once, will you keep me for the day or two more it may take me to finish my work and arrange to go?’
Lois refilled her wineglass. ‘Running away, hm? Not with my agreement. And all else aside, you will seriously inconvenience me if you insist on leaving just now.’
‘Inconvenience you? How is that?’ Maryan queried.
‘Because I am planning to go away myself for a short time, leaving you to care for my little Mackerel while I am away.’
Surprised, Maryan said, ‘But of course—! That is, I’d have been glad to, if—You are going on holiday?’
‘To the Rhineland. To Rudesheim. At the invitation of Arnold Maddern,’ Lois confirmed evenly.
‘Arnold has asked you to visit him there?’ For all her own despair, Maryan glowed with gratification. So they had been writing to each other! While her relationship with Raoul had withered, theirs had ripened, borne fruit. ‘Oh, I’m so glad!’ she told Lois. ‘I knew you had liked him and I hoped—that you might come to feel more for each other than as friends. And it has happened? Or not yet? Tell me about it, won’t you?’
Turned suddenly diffident, Lois said, “You want to hear? About two dull, middle-aged people who have fallen in love?’
Maryan corrected pointedly, ‘About two people I’m fond of who have discovered love!’
Lois told her, fingering the stem of her empty glass as she talked; telling more than the story of her feeling for Arnold; going back in time too to recall another man who had paid court to her but who hadn’t been willing to wait in line behind the duty she had owed to her mother. That had hurt too much, she admitted. Too much and for too long. But now it didn’t any more.
Maryan interposed, ‘I remember you said once that people moved on and away and stopped caring. Was it this man you meant?’
‘And others, though he mattered most.’ After a long pause Lois added with more of her usual brusquerie, ‘And so you see how you incommode me, when Arnold wants to see me again and I to see him, and you will not spare me the few days to look after my little cat while I am away?’
Maryan said wretchedly, ‘I wish I could. But how can I? Raoul must expect me to go.’
‘Then we must strike a bargain, you and I,’ Lois said briskly. ‘For my part, I will not insist that we confront him and that woman tonight. For yours, you may get as ready to go as you please, but you will stay here in charge of my house until I come back. Agreed?’
Maryan protested, ‘That’s not a fair exchange!’
‘Fair or not, those are my terms,’ Lois said imperturbably. ‘Do you accept them or not?’
Maryan yielded unwillingly to a stubbornness she recognised well. ‘How long will you be gone?’ she asked.
‘A week, no more. I have booked my flight for tomorrow and I shall return the same way when Arnold has to move on to Spain, as you know he plans to do next.’
‘And you may come back engaged to him?’
Lois blushed like a shy teenager. ‘Perhaps. Who knows? And you—you will help me by staying and waiting for me?’
‘Yes.’ As Maryan spoke she remembered Raoul’s strictures against her occupying the Pavilion alone without Lois. But as he was not likely to want to come near her, he needn’t know perhaps. And even if he did, her defiance of him would do something for her resentment of his injustice. The Pavilion was Lois’s house; he couldn’t turn her out by force. Yes, she would stay.
/> After parting with Lois for the night she did not sleep for a long time. She hadn’t expected she would. And during the long hours of worry and abortive planning, there was one question at which her tired brain nagged over and over.
Why had Raoul been so incensed, so beside himself with anger at her failure to mention her fruitless errand to him? More, how had Ninon guessed that that would be his reaction? Surely a mildly critical surprise was all that her omission deserved? Unless—the dark suspicion, vague at first, took ugly shape in Maryan’s tortured mind—unless his own claim and right to Feu-Follet were not so unassailable after all? Supposing he needed to fear other claimants to the land, and Ninon knew as much?
Confusedly Maryan thought back to the one time when the subject had come up between herself and Raoul. He had told her of his promise to his father that he wouldn’t rest until Feu-Follet was in Leduc hands. ‘And you got it in the end?’ she had asked, and ‘At a price’ had been his reply, which she had accepted as meaning a high price in money, though now she remembered that he hadn’t looked at her as he spoke and had at once changed the subject, she was wondering ...
Was it possible that his possession of the plantation had involved some transaction of usurpation which wouldn’t bear the light of honest day? If so, did Ninon know or suspect this? Was Raoul aware that she did?
But before she found any of the answers Maryan did manage to sleep, and in the morning such doubts of Raoul’s integrity looked monstrous and her loyalty thrust them aside.
For almost the first time in their acquaintance Lois was up first, her valise packed and the Renault ready to take her to Anglet. Her farewells to her kitten were prolonged and her directions for Maryan’s care of him explicit. And shortly before she was due to leave, she took possession of the telephone, saying pointedly, ‘Do you mind? I have some calls I must make.’
