Across the grey flat of the lawn, a fountain danced and reflected firefly colours from the Chinese lamps in the trees. At the summit of the hundred steps, she could see two or three guests walking in the shadow of climbing roses and great plane trees; distant, oblivious to her. And beyond them, the Hall was lit up like a palace of ice.
She tried to forget the scene with her aunt. Her awareness swam over and around it, not through it. She had no thoughts, and only one desire; to dissolve into the cool balm of the night. Just to find peace…
Her reverie was interrupted. There was a flowing silhouette coming towards her, topped with ringlets and swaying feathers. A regal seventeenth-century lady, in stiff green satin and silver lace.
It was Anne. Thank goodness, it was Anne. "Charlotte. I've been looking everywhere for you. Here, drink this." She placed a glass of champagne in Charlotte's hand. "Aren't you freezing in that thin shift?"
"No, I'm all right," she said untruthfully. "Did my aunt send you to look for me?"
"I would have come anyway, but she did say something."
"Oh, God." Charlotte drank. Her throat was dry and the champagne was acid, delicious. "Is she very annoyed with me?"
"No, not really. Slightly irritated that Maddy only had one hand-maiden, that's all. Maddy's having the time of her life, but a few people were asking where you were. You ought to come in, you know."
"Oh." Charlotte sighed. "But they don't really care if I'm there or not. It's all appearances, that's what I hate about it. What an embarrassment to have a sister who can't behave properly in company."
Anne touched her arm; her hand was warm on her goosepimply skin. "Well, there is something in what you say.
That's why I don't get on with Fleur and Madeleine and their set; they only ever think of themselves. But David and Edward are here, and my mother and father. They want to see you."
That made it worse. Friends en masse became a different entity, an audience of strangers. She swallowed the rest of the champagne and said nothing.
Anne looked at her for a moment. Then she said, "Is it true that you and Henry are getting engaged?"
"I supposed Elizabeth's told everyone."
"Only the family. But is it true? It was quite a shock, I can tell you!"
"Not half as much as it was to me." Charlotte put her head in her hands. "Oh, Anne, I don't know what I'm going to do."
"Just talk to me," Anne said gently. "There's no one else here. Tell me why you're so unhappy."
Her kindness made Charlotte's eyes sting with tears. The champagne had gone to her head, and suddenly the burden inside her seemed to split like a puffball, releasing its cloud of pain. She said, "You don't like Maddy and her crowd, but you don't seem to feel you're a misfit among them."
"Because I couldn't care less what they think of me, that's all."
"But I do care!" Charlotte exclaimed. "I wish I didn't. I'd do anything to be like them, full of life, always knowing the right thing to say. I'd do anything simply to be friends with Maddy and Fleur, just to be accepted."
"They do accept you."
"Yes—for who they think I am, their shy dull sister. They don't know how I feel inside. They don't know the real me."
"But whose fault is that, Charli? You never let anyone near you."
"Yes, I know it's my fault. Why do you think I feel so awful? But I didn't ask to be Father's favourite. Fleur and Maddy hated me for it, when we were children. They punished me, I suppose."
"In what way?" Anne sounded shocked.
It seemed disloyal to answer honestly, so Charlotte tried to understate the pain of her childhood. "Oh, you know the things children do. They teased me, bullied me, excluded me from their friendship. I couldn't fight back. I thought I must deserve it."
"Didn't David protect you?"
"David didn't know." Charlotte let out a shivering sigh. "No one knew. You're the first person I've ever told, actually. They grew out of it, of course, but they still haven't forgiven me, not really. Not underneath."
"The little beasts. God, I would have banged their silly heads together, if I'd known!"
"It wasn't their fault, that Father loved me best. It hurt them, and I can never put it right. I don't know how. I've always wanted so much to be part of their world; that's why I went to London. But it was terrible. I don't know how to cope with people; their indifference, their cruelty. Even if someone was nice to me, I was so nervous I couldn't think of a thing to say, and I would freeze them out or make some excuse to escape. You could see their eyes clouding over and I couldn't do a thing to stop it. That's why I can't refuse Henry."
"I don't see the connection."
"Who else will ask me? As a married woman, I'll be acceptable and people won't think I'm odd and pester me about finding a husband."
"Oh, Charli," said Anne. "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's no wonder you're so miserable. You let your family walk all over you, and the more you do it the more they take you for granted. Listen, you have got to tell your aunt you've made a mistake. Be firm."
"I can't, it's too late."
"Rubbish! Why can't you stand up for yourself for once? I could shake you!" She put her arm round Charlotte's shoulders and said more gently. "You can't go on like this, they'll destroy you. They've done a pretty effective job already."
"It's easy for you. You're not a coward. I'm frightened to get married, I'm frightened to say no. What can I do?"
"I wish you'd let me help you. It's like talking to a brick wall." Anne's tone was affectionate. She hugged Charlotte, kissed her cheek; and Charlotte, for the first time in her life, felt a sense of warmth and release. We're friends, we are real friends!
She returned the embrace awkwardly. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Anne."
"That's better. Now, will you come inside? I am going to make sure you enjoy this evening if it's the last thing I do. Look, there's David." Anne pointed across the lawn. "I suppose he's come to look for me now. Who's that he's talking to?"
Charlotte saw her brother on the far side of the fountain, a splendid musketeer in a feathered hat. With him was a tall slim man who looked vaguely familiar…
Then she realised, and her heart leapt up to choke her. It had not even occurred to her that Madeleine would have invited Karl to the party. But the moment she saw him a feeling of wrongness drenched everything, as if the world had shaken itself into a darker shape.
He was slightly taller than David, slender and elegant in eighteenth-century costume of black velvet; long legs outlined by close-fitting breeches, an exquisitely tailored coat with white lace at the throat and cuffs. His hair was full and dark, almost black but for reddish highlights. His face was beautiful. Wholly masculine, yet the mere word "handsome" could not be applied to him, any more than it could to a Renaissance angel. His beauty completely took her breath away.
What's happening to me? she thought wildly. A mixture of panic and longing pushed up under her breastbone. She could not define the feeling—except that it felt like recognition. It was as if she'd sensed danger the very first time she'd seen him, and had the sense to flee before he could have this effect on her. Now it was too late. She wanted to run, but she was transfixed.
He had a quality of stillness about him that drew her, like a clear, deep lake. Something out of the ordinary, too enthralling to be human, certainly; fascinating and dangerous. His long white hands looked luminous to her, and as he turned to glance at her it seemed only his eyes were alive in that carved visage—amber jewels lit by fire.
Yet she was too far away to discern the colour of his eyes…
Then Anne said, "Oh, it's Maddy's new boyfriend, isn't it?"
The words hit Charlotte like gloved fists. They spoke of possession. Madeleine possesses him as Henry now possesses me…
The spell was broken. The stranger was walking away and David was on his way towards them, sweeping his feathered hat from his head in an extravagant greeting. He was blonder than Charlotte, with a friendly, ope
n face lent character by a once-broken nose that had set crookedly. She was glad to see him. Somehow he made the world safe again.
"Come on, let's brave the party." Anne slid a hand through her arm. "David and I will look after you. You know, not everyone's like Elizabeth; there are lots of people who think very kindly of you, if you'd give them a chance to be friends."
***
Safe between David and Anne, Charlotte found the party bearable.
The marquee was huge; no expense had been spared for Madeleine. A dance band was playing jauntily amid a jungle of potted palms. Despite the efforts of the servants to keep the chaos under control the party was looking the worse for wear, the tables in disarray, their crisp white cloths piled with plates and glasses. The scent of crushed grass and stale wine rose up ripely through the heat of dancing bodies, and the canvas roof was wreathed in smoke. Romans danced with harlequins, medieval ladies with gypsies and giant bears.
The three of them went to sit at a table with Anne's parents, Dr and Mrs Saunders, and David's friend Edward Lees. They made a colourful group, all dressed as characters from The Three Musketeers; David was d'Artagnan, Anne the Queen of France, Dr Saunders a scarlet-robed Cardinal Richelieu, and Mrs Saunders, Milady. The awkward time of introductions was long over; Madeleine, Elizabeth and Fleur were too involved in their respective groups of friends to take any notice of Charlotte. Her self-consciousness began to slide away. She had known the Saunderses since childhood, while Edward, although she knew him only slightly, was an unassuming young man who didn't make her feel uncomfortable.
Edward—a rather diffident Athos—was as withdrawn as Charlotte in his way. He was gentle-natured, very polite, but she could sense an underlying moodiness. David had told her that he had been prone to depression since the War. They never said much about what they had undergone in the trenches together, but she knew from their reticence on the subject that it had been terrible. Her imagination had often painted frightening pictures. She felt an unspoken empathy with Edward.
Protected in her little circle, not required to make conversation, Charlotte drank far more champagne than she should and watched the party drift around her in a pleasant haze. Edward apologised for being unable to ask her to dance, as he could not walk without his stick; Charlotte smiled and said she preferred just to watch, anyway.
She relaxed for a time, wondering why it had all seemed so difficult… until Anne nudged her, and said, "The Prof's heading this way, with that look in his eye."
Her father looked out of place in his evening suit, being one of the few who had refuse to make a "damned fool of himself" by dressing up. Behind him came Madeleine and Elizabeth, with Karl between them like a prize.
Sudden tension sobered Charlotte. Heads turned as Karl walked by. While the other guests looked self-conscious or comical in their costumes, the black velvet seemed part of him, as if he would have been perfectly at home in the eighteenth century. His hair was not quite black but a very deep auburn, a colour that seemed to flood her eyes with its richness. And although he drew attention as would a live panther in their midst, he seemed untouched by it, the dark still centre of a whirlpool.
"Ah, Charlotte, there you are at last," said her father. His tone was cheerful, holding no recrimination for her absence. "I think I've introduced Karl to everyone except you. Anyway, this is Karl Alexander von Wultendorf; Karl, my daughter Charlotte, who, as I'm sure you're tired of hearing, is utterly invaluable to me."
Charlotte stood up and found Karl's intense, beautiful amber eyes gazing into hers. She seemed to be dissolving in their crystal light.
He said, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last, Miss Neville. We seemed to keep missing one another."
His voice was low and clear, with only the gentlest trace of an Austrian accent. He took her hand, and the touch of his long cool fingers sent a weird sensation through her like a slow electric shock.
She was so nervous that she could hardly open her mouth, yet it seemed vitally important that she said the right thing. This moment meant something. His eyes held her, cutting through her fear; his beauty went right through the middle of her like a hot sword.
He added, "I am so looking forward to working with you." Then Charlotte found she resented the way his gaze captivated her, resented his glamour. She pulled her hand out of his and said coldly, "I'm afraid the laboratory will be rather too cramped with four of us there."
Karl's reaction to her rudeness was infinitesimal; she could not tell whether he was offended, surprised or unmoved. Still intent on her, he said, "I'm sure we shall manage."
Then Madeleine said something, and his attention flicked away from Charlotte, swift as a kingfisher. She sat down and stared at the table, almost paralysed. Irrationally and fiercely she hated him for the way he had transfixed her, the way he'd made her feel she was someone special and interesting, then turned away as if she were nothing.
"… and naturally, we're very proud of David," George Neville was telling Karl, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "So many families lost their sons, you know. We're so very lucky that he came back. And it's all thanks to this young man here." He waved a hand at Edward. "They were in the same regiment, you know."
"Father—" David interrupted.
"Oh, let your old father have the pleasure of telling the story. Edward saved David's life. David was injured by a mortar. Edward sat with him all night in a shell-hole full of water until the bombardment died down, then carried him back behind the lines. Took a bullet in the leg on the way, but still kept going. Got a medal for it; a knighthood would have been more in order, but there you are. Heroes, both of them." Dr Neville nodded emphatically, ignoring Edward's embarrassment.
Karl's eyes widened almost imperceptibly under dark, dark eyebrows. "There was a great deal of bravery in the War," he said.
Edward shook his head, shuffling slightly on his seat. "Oh, nothing brave on my part, I can assure you. One did what one had to. But I expect you know that… " He looked up at Karl, and suddenly his face froze.
"Yes, which front did you serve on?" David asked conversationally.
There was a suspended instant of silence, barely noticeable. What Karl's reply would have been, they didn't find out; Madeleine rescued them.
"Oh, don't talk about the War," she said. "In my capacity as Queen of Egypt—Queen of this party, at any rate—I absolutely forbid it." She slid her hand through Karl's arm; he didn't seem to mind. "I can't imagine why you want to hide yourself in a stuffy old laboratory with my father, anyway. You must be frightfully dedicated."
"I would like to find out the secrets of the universe," said Karl. "Is there anyone who would not?"
Madeleine said, "I think the only secret is to be happy."
They looked at each other, their conversation excluding the others. "Do you have no curiosity?" he said.
"Mm!" Her kohl-lined eyes sparkled. "I'm very curious about finding new ways to enjoy myself. You can't work all the time. The only sensible way to exhaust oneself is by dancing… " And she was leading him towards the dance floor as she spoke.
"Maddy's making very sure no one else gets near him," Anne commented. "Attractive, isn't he? If he were a woman, men would be fighting duels over him."
"Men probably fight duels over him anyway," Elizabeth said drily.
Charlotte's father was talking to Dr and Mrs Saunders, pulling out a chair to sit down with them. She wished she could corner him and demand, "Don't I have any say in who works with us? How could you agree to this? I don't like him!" But of course she would not. She forced the feelings of confusion down, buried them.
Unspeaking, she listened to the murmur of conversation; Anne's voice, David's voice, rising and falling, making no sense. The air felt heavy and stale in her lungs. Her head ached and she was trembling.
Around her the party whirled on. She watched Madeleine and Karl threading graceful curves through the crowd of dancers; she saw women watching Karl, men watching her sister, jealous. Th
en she looked at Edward and he too was staring at Madeleine, fumbling with a silver cigarette case but not concentrating on what he was doing.
He's in love with Maddy, too, she thought, feeling a kind of desperate sympathy.
The dance ended and Madeleine and Karl were coming back. Edward's stare moved with them, blatant enough to be bad mannered. But as they approached, Charlotte saw that Edward's face was turning a ghastly colour, blanching beyond white to greyish-blue. His eyes were round, bulging slightly, the whites glistening circles. The silver case fell from his fingers, scattering cigarettes everywhere. His lips were parted, his breath quick and shallow.
Alarmed, Charlotte leaned towards him. "Edward? Are you all right? You don't look very well."
He didn't respond. She touched his arm and he suddenly leapt out of his seat, sending his chair flying backwards and his stick toppling to the ground. Everyone turned to stare at him. Then he started to scream.
Charlotte leapt away from him in panic. It was a terrible sound, a man screaming, deep and tearing. Drops of spittle flew from his mouth and he was pointing at Karl, backing away until he collided with a tent pole and the whole marquee shook. And Karl stopped where he was and stared back at Edward with no more than an expression of slight surprise.
"Take him out!" Edward yelled, his voice thick and hoarse. "Get him away, get him out of here. Vampire." The word was a rasp on his last thread of breath. "Vampire."
* * *
Chapter Four
Shadow Against the Wall
Waves of astonishment rippled outwards across the marquee. Conversations stopped, heads turned, couples on the dance floor came to a halt. The music fizzled out raggedly, one instrument after another. And over the undercurrent of murmured exclamations, Edward went on screaming and screaming.
A Taste of Blood Wine Page 7
