Rachel Lindsay - Mask of Gold

by Rachel Lindsay

  'So it appears! You almost knocked me down. Paying me back in my own coin, I expect!'

  She smiled. 'I didn't think I'd see you in London today.'

  'I had to see my agent about a commission he had for me.' He glanced at his watch. 'If you're not in a hurry, how about having lunch with me? I was going to the Coq d'Or!'

  'Isn't that rather exclusive?' 'I can afford it,' he grinned. 'I've just been asked to paint an old lady who wants every diamond she's got put in the picture. And will that cost her a bomb!'

  'I wasn't wondering if you could afford it,' she admitted, 'but whether I was dressed properly!'

  'You're nothing if not honest,' he smiled, 'but with your looks you could go into a restaurant wearing a sack and they'd still beg you to come back!' He put his hand under her arm and beckoned a passing taxi, his actions stifling any further protest she might have made.

  In the restaurant Carolyn looked around her with interest, recognising various celebrities who, until that moment, had merely been names to her. 'Sometimes I can't believe I'm really in England,' she admitted. 'I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and find it's all a dream.'

  'That's what Piotr's grandmother would like to happen too,' he said.

  Diplomatically she made no comment and stared intensely at the menu, relieved when the waiter came up to take their order.

  Over the meal he kept her amused with stories of his student days at an school, the bohemian atmosphere so different from her own confining upbringing that for the first time she knew a sense of loss for the carefree days of youth that had never been hers.

  'You make everything sound such fun,' she said wistfully.

  'Only because time blurs the sharp edges,' he replied. 'It's not much fun being hungry in a sleazy bedsitter in Notting Hill Gate.'

  'Were you hungry?'

  'Loads of times! That's why I'm such a ferocious worker now. No matter what I have to do, I'm determined not to go back to the one meal a day lark. I'd rather take a job as a commerical artist!'

  She burst out laughing. 'Is that so bad?'

  'A fate worse than death,' he said cheerfully, and leaned forward across the table. 'I'd like to paint you, my dear Carolyn.'

  'Whatever for?'

  'Because you're beautiful.'

  She blushed. 'Nonsense!'

  'It's true. I know exactly the sort of portrait I'd do. Please say you'll sit for me?'

  His tone was so persuasive that she heard herself agreeing before she could give it any serious thought.

  'That's marvellous,' he exclaimed. 'I'll start this week.'

  'I hope I can afford it!'

  He stared at her in silence for a moment. 'I wasn't planning to charge for it,' he said slowly. 'It will be a reason for seeing you.'

  'You needn't paint my portrait in order to see me.'

  'If I'd known that, I wouldn't have offered,' he grinned. 'But it's too late now. So you'll have the best of both worlds—me and a portrait of yourself!'

  It was late afternoon by the time they returned to the station, and Carolyn was glad to relax in a corner seat and think over the events of the day. Her strongest memory was of astonishment that Alvin Tyssen should have a mistress, and she wished that her unreasonable irritation at discovering it had not prompted her precipitate flight from Darien's. At least she should have satisfied her curiosity and seen what the woman looked like!

  'What are you thinking about?' Derek asked suddenly. 'You look like a nanny getting ready to smack her charges!'

  She laughed. 'That was the last thing in my mind! As a matter of fact I was thinking how old-fashioned I am.'

  'You?'

  'Yes. I didn't realise it until today.'

  'Why only today?'

  She hesitated and then decided that discretion was better than truth. 'Probably because it was my first visit to London. It made me realise how small Toronto is by comparison and what a provincial life I've led.'

  'That's nothing to be sorry about. Think of all the new things ahead of you.'

  'I am. And I'm scared to death!'

  'What rubbish! It's far better to be naive than blase. There's nothing worse than meeting a woman who thinks she knows all the answers.'

  'That's only your opinion,' she parried. 'Most men like their women sophisticated.'

  'Only young men,' Derek said. 'Mature ones like a woman they can teach.'

  The glint in his eyes decided her not to continue with the conversation, and she leaned back against the dusty moquette seat and closed her eyes. But the thought of Alvin Tyssen and the woman for whom he bought clothes still teased at her mind, giving the lie to the statement Derek had just made. No one could call the icy, calm Alvin Tyssen an immature young man, and the little she had heard of his mistress made her certain that she was not a woman who needed to be taught about anything.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Two days after her return from London, Carolyn received a call from Derek de Mancy's sister Margaret, inviting her to come over for tea. It was the first social invitation she had received since arriving in England, and she was inordinately pleased to be forced out of her usual daily routine.

  'I'll take Piotr back to school and come straight over. Where exactly is your house?'

  'You can't miss it once you get to the shore road. It's the only one with pink shutters.'

  Carolyn replaced the receiver and returned to the small sitting-room where Mrs. Nichols and Piotr were at lunch.

  'I won't be in for tea,' she said as she resumed her chair. 'I've been invited to have tea with Derek and his sister.'

  'The painter?'

  'Yes.'

  'Jeffrey's quite artistic,' Mrs. Nichols volunteered. 'But only in the amateur class.'

  'You mean he paints?'

  'No. He composes music: ballads and that sort of thing. He had one published a few years ago and it was quite a success.'

  'Hasn't he written any more?'

  'No. Now that he's working for Alvin, he doesn't have the time.'

  'What a pity! Doing something creative might have helped him.'

  'Helped him?' Mrs. Nichols echoed. 'I don't understand you.'

  'It's just that he———- ' Carolyn hesitated and then plunged on: 'It's just that he seems to have a chip on his shoulder about being a failure.'

  'He'd feel an even bigger one if he tried to earn a living by his songs,' his mother said angrily. 'He doesn't come from a family of talent. My parents were struggling farmers and my husband's passion was hunting.'

  Carolyn was intrigued by the revelation of Mrs. Nichol's background. 'I imagined you coming from a large house like this.'

  'That was my sister-in-law's belief too. She never liked me to discuss my background. Agatha was nothing if not a snob!'

  Embarrassed, Carolyn changed the subject. 'How did you meet your husband?'

  'I was second lead in a revue and he came back-stage to see the leading lady. He bumped into me literally—and that was that!' She sighed. 'If you think Jeffrey's got charm, you should have met his father.'

  'You must have been very happy.'

  'I was—in the beginning. But I soon realised that the future he talked about so blithely belonged to his sister—and the charm he had used to captivate me was given to any woman with a pretty face.'

  'Yet you stayed with him.'

  'I had two children to look after. Rosemary took after her father, but Jeffrey…' The hard voice softened. 'Jeffrey was completely mine. When my husband was killed, Agatha invited us to live with her. I didn't want to, but Jeffrey was never a strong child and needed fresh air and special food. The Health Service then wasn't what it is now!' She laughed bitterly. 'So we came here and we stayed—while my dear sister-in-law dangled her fortune in front of me like a carrot in front of a donkey! You can't imagine how I felt when Alvin fell in love with Rosemary. Once they were married I knew Jeffrey and I could say goodbye to Royston for ever!'

  'And then Ella fell in love with Jeffrey!'

  'Exactly.
A double victory.' Mrs. Nichols closed her eyes. 'I should have known the gods were laughing. The rest of the story you know————————————- '

  'Rosemary ran away with Peter, and Mr. Tyssen and his sister left the country.'

  'It doesn't sound much when you say it like that,' Mrs. Nichols sighed, 'but it meant Jeffrey and I were back where we started—except that Agatha was even more impossible. I know she forgave Rosemary in the end—her will proved that—but for many years she was even more bitter about it than I was…'

  Carolyn felt obliged to protest. 'I don't see why anyone should have been bitter. After all, Rosemary wasn't a child, and if she fell in love with another man, why shouldn't she have married him? It would have been far worse to have married Mr. Tyssen and then found it didn't work.'

  'It was the way in which she did it,' came the reply. 'She knew very well that by jilting Alvin she would ruin things for Jeffrey and Ella.'

  'Then Ella is to blame for that. She's not her brother's keeper any more than Jeffrey is responsible for Rosemary's behaviour.'

  'That's a very logical way of putting it,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'but unfortunately where emotions are concerned, people aren't always logical. By the time tempers had cooled down it was too late. Ella stayed abroad with her brother and Jeffrey frittered his time from one job to another. It wasn't until Ella came back and started seeing Jeffrey again that he settled down to a proper job.'

  'Which I'm sure he doesn't like,' Carolyn said bluntly.

  'I don't see you in the position of adviser to the family,' Mrs. Nichols' tone was acid. 'You may control the purse strings, but '

  'Must you still be so bitter about it?' Carolyn interrupted. 'The money belongs to Piotr—your own grandchild. The fact that I'm the trustee is no one's fault except your own. If you hadn't disowned your daughter, Peter would have put his son in your care. You can't blame him for the fact that he didn't.'

  There was a long silence, finally broken by Mrs. Nichols pushing back her chair and standing up. 'I'd rather we didn't talk about Rosemary any more. I sacrificed my independence so that my children could live here and be brought up decently. I think she owed me something for that.'

  'She didn't owe you a lifetime of unhappiness. And that's what it would have meant if she had married someone she didn't love. Anyway,' Carolyn said wearily, 'once Jeffrey started to see Ella again there was no reason why you couldn't contact your daughter. She was as much your child as Jeffrey is.'

  'She left me,' Mrs. Nichols reiterated, 'and Jeffrey didn't. And once he started seeing Ella again I was determined not to do anything to upset it. Agatha knew how I felt. That's why she wanted Rosemary back—just to spite me.'

  'Rosemary was your daughter,' Carolyn burst out. "Yet all you seem to care about is your son!'

  'He has always leaned on me, whereas Rosemary was always independent.'

  'Didn't you love my mummy?' Piotr piped. It made both women suddenly aware that the little boy had been listening solidly to their conversation, and angry with herself, Carolyn signalled him to leave the table.

  'Run along and get your coat, darling, or you'll be late for school.'

  Disappointed at being excluded from the conversation, Piotr dawdled slowly out, and not until the door had closed behind him did Carolyn turn back to Mrs. Nichols.

  'I don't like Alvin Tyssen, but I don't believe he would have tried to stop his sister seeing Jeffrey, even if Rosemary had come back here.'

  'I wasn't prepared to take the risk.'

  'So you sacrificed your daughter's happiness for the sake of your son?'

  'Yes—if you want to put it that way.'

  'There's no other way of putting it,' Carolyn murmured. 'That's probably why Rosemary didn't come back. Have you never thought that she tried to force herself to fall in love with Alvin for your sake?'

  'No!' Mrs. Nichols said sharply. 'Anyway, if she had considered me she wouldn't have eloped with Peter.'

  'You'll never forgive her for that, will you?'

  'I don't know,' Mrs. Nichols said slowly. 'I know I sound a bitter old woman to you, but you're young and you've no idea the life I've led here. For years I was dependent on my sister-in- law's charity, and now I'm dependent on yours.'

  'I wish you wouldn't put it like that.'

  'There's no other way of putting it. For someone who grew up in a hard school, Carolyn, you're very romantic.'

  'I just don't want your resentment against Rosemary to rub off on Piotr.'

  'It would never happen.' For the first time there was a softening in Mrs. Nichols' voice. 'As you're going out for tea, I'll collect him from school; then you needn't hurry back.'

  Carolyn left Piotr at Miss Talbot's and retraced her steps along the lane that led to the shore. Fields of winter corn stretched on either side of her and in the distance on the headland, a row of cottages faced the angry breakers that dashed themselves against the stony beach. This was the part of the coast she liked best, and she paused on the sand dunes to enjoy the feel of the wet spray on her face before walking back over the springy grass to the last cottage. An untidy front garden led up to an unpretentious facade with grimy pink shutters and a front door that showed more bare wood than paint. She had expected Derek to live in a bohemian atmosphere and was somewhat disappointed to find it dingy and depressing. Annoyed at her feeling of snobbery, she quickly rang the bell and almost immediately it was opened by a grey-haired woman whose thin face creased into a smile that did not reach her brown eyes.

  'Mrs. Kolsky? I'm Margaret de Mancy. I'm so pleased you could come.' The woman stepped back and Carolyn entered a low-ceilinged living-room filled to overflowing with furniture and bric-a-brac. A fire burned in the grate and the woman led the way to it. 'Excuse the state of the place, but we took it furnished without realising how furnished it was going to be!' 'Will you be staying here long?'

  'It depends. I've been ill. That's why we came here.' Abruptly she offered Carolyn a packet of cigarettes and then took one herself. 'He'll be here in a moment, he's cleaning his paintbrushes.'

  Hardly had she finished speaking when there was a heavy step outside and Derek came in. Carolyn had thought him a large man before, but in the small room he seemed like a giant.

  'So the Lady of the Manor has deigned to call at last! I thought we weren't going to be good enough.'

  'Don't be ridiculous,' Carolyn said quickly. 'I only saw you a couple of days ago.'

  'She's here now,' his sister interrupted. 'Don't frighten her with your temper.' She turned to Carolyn. 'Derek's so quick in his likes and dislikes that he can't understand why other people aren't the same.'

  'Now you're making her blush, Margaret. Go and see about tea and I'll show Carolyn my studio.'

  Glad to leave the overcrowded room, Carolyn followed Derek up the stairs into what had obviously been one of the bedrooms. All the furniture had been pushed against one wall, leaving a working space that was now cluttered with a massive easel and a table covered with brushes and paints.

  'It faces north,' he explained. 'It's the best light for painting.' He moved over to the easel and turned it for her to have a better view.

  'That's me!'

  'Not too bad, is it?' he said laconically, 'considering it's from memory.'

  'It's wonderful! If you can do this without my sitting for you, I'm dying to see what you'd do when I'm really here.'

  'I'm looking forward to showing you.' His brown eyes gazed intently into hers and she drew back.

  'We'll have to fix a time, Derek. I'd really like to commission you to do a portrait of Piotr.'

  'I want to paint you first. You promised.'

  'Will you paint Piotr afterwards?'

  'Afterwards I'll do anything you want, my lovely Caro. That's what your stepson calls you, isn't it?'

  Resolutely she avoided his glance. 'It's his pet name for me. No one else uses it.'

  'May I?'

  'If you like.'

  'I'd like to very much,' he said with a
soft laugh. 'Especially if you go on blushing so delightfully every time I say it.' 'I won't blush again,' she said, determined to stop him flirting with her. 'Now what about some tea? I'm gasping.'

  'Come, my little bird, we'll go down.'

  He led the way, and as they reached the bottom step his sister came in, wheeling a trolley laden with sandwiches and scones.

  'My capable sister!' Derek beamed. 'That's what comes of being a nurse!'

  'I believe you work in an orphanage?' Carolyn asked.

  'I did until I was ill. But I doubt if I'll ever be able to go back.'

  'Why not? Surely you'll be better soon?'

  'Physically yes, but mentally I can't face the prospect of continual responsibility.' The woman gave the same peculiar smile as before. 'How can one tell if you're going to get better? The doctor said my breakdown was from overwork, but even after three months' holiday I'm still exhausted.'

  'There's still two months ahead of you,' her brother exclaimed. 'I'm sure you'll be better by then.'

  'You'll probably feel better when you do start work,' Carolyn said. 'Doing nothing is making me feel lethargic and dull. Sometimes I'm tempted to leave Piotr here and take a job during the week.'

  'What stops you?' Derek asked.

  'Piotr, I suppose. I don't feel I can leave him here alone, even for a few days at a time.'

  'I can understand that,' Margaret de Mancy said. 'Mrs. Nichols looks a real dragon to me.'

  'She's better when you get to know her.'

  The woman sniffed disbelievingly. 'I'd rather leave than share a house with someone like that.'

  'I can't turn her out,' Carolyn explained. 'It's as much her home as Piotr's.'

  'You're too generous,' Derek interrupted. 'From the gossip I've heard, she and her son gave you a pretty lousy welcome.'

  'Jeffrey's fine now,' Carolyn said stoutly. 'As a matter of fact he's getting engaged to Ella Tyssen next week.'

  'That's enough to sweeten anyone,' Margaret retorted. 'The Tyssens are as rich as Croesus. What do you think of their house?'

  'I haven't seen it yet.'

  'It's half a mile along the coast,' Derek spoke from across the room where he had gone too fetch his pipe. 'It's a fantastic place. Like something from the next century. I'd give my eye teeth to see the inside.'