by Isobel Chace
But he refused her offer, smiling as he did so. ‘I’ll get you home. There will be time enough to sleep then, my dear.’
She wasn’t sorry not to take the wheel. The wet roads were dangerously slippery and the Mercedes was a much more powerful car than she was accustomed to driving. When they passed an overturned lorry, there was oil to contend with as well, and she could only admire the way Gregory handled the big car, bringing the slipping wheels firmly back under control with the minimum of effort.
Amman looked unfamiliar in the rain. The steep streets were less crowded than usual, though the horns were as vociferous as ever. The Hussein Mosque, which always looked to Marion as though it had strayed out of a pantomime, it contrasted so sharply with the small, dark shops surrounded it, was closed and locked. Water dripped down the minarets and there were puddles in the courtyard where the faithful normally washed themselves and prepared for prayer. Outside the streets were flooded in places and, in some places, were breaking up under the force of the storm.
‘We were lucky to get through the Syq when we did,’ Marion mused. ‘Do you suppose Lucasta and Gaston are far behind us?’
‘Still wishing you were with them?’ he asked her.
She shook her head. ‘I bet Gaston doesn’t stop for lunch,’ she said. ‘I’m getting very greedy, but I do like the food here.’
His grey eyes laughed at her. ‘I believe that in spite of the cold and the wet you’re enjoying yourself, Marion Shirley!’ he accused her.
But then she always did with him.
They arrived at the Qasr el Biyara not much more than an hour later. Marion shook herself out of the pleasant state of lethargy she had fallen into and got stiffly out of the car.
‘Run!’ Gregory ordered her. ‘Run inside and get straight into a hot bath. I’ll bring your luggage along later.’
She didn’t wait to be told twice. She fled into the castle and went straight down the corridor towards her room. Zein came pattering after her, giggling with the excitement of their sudden arrival. She helped Marion to peel off her wet clothes, running the bath for her and offering to wash her hair for her. When Marion had finally chased her out of the bathroom and had soaked in the hot water for long enough to feel warm again, she chided her in lilting tones for being such a long time and handed her a clean nightdress round the door, followed by a kaftan that doubled as Marion’s dressing-gown and something that, at a pinch, she could wear in the evenings as well.
Marion was too tired to argue when Zein set about rubbing her hair dry. She wished they had a language in common so that she could tell her about Petra, but Zein seemed to understand much of what she was saying all the same. ‘Mr. Gregory,’ she said at intervals, and giggled some more. ‘Inish’allah!’ she added piously.
‘If God wills it.’
She was setting the final touches to Marion’s hair when Lucasta came in and threw herself down on Marion’s bed.
‘Phew! I didn’t think we’d ever get here! But we weren’t very far behind you.’ She sat up, grinning. ‘Have you managed to avoid Denise? You can’t hear her down here, but from my room she sounds as mad as a hatter!’
‘What about?’ Marion asked. As if she didn’t know!
‘I didn’t stop to listen,’ Lucasta admitted. ‘You see, I wanted to speak to you before I say anything to Gregory. He wants you to stay on here, doesn’t he, to finish cleaning his frescoes? Well, you can, because I’m staying too. I’m not going back to school. I’m going to stay here until I’m eighteen and then I’m going to marry Gaston!’
Marion swallowed. ‘I see,’ she said faintly. ‘What will your parents say to that?’
Lucasta shrugged. ‘Who cares? It’s what Gregory says that matters.’ She traced a pattern on her knee with her forefinger and Marion realised she was not as sure of herself as she sounded. ‘And what you say,’ she added. ‘You do like Gaston, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ Marion assured her. ‘It’s only that you’re still very young—’
‘And statistically speaking it can be proved again and again that marriages don’t work out for teenagers,’ Lucasta sighed. ‘I know that! But Gaston won’t stand for anything else. You may as well know that that was what we quarrelled about. I was sure that if I got him up to the High Place by himself I could make him make love to me, but he wouldn’t. He said Gregory would break his neck and quite right too. He says his family is every bit as sticky as Jean-Pierre’s, only much nicer, and he expects to find his wife a virgin on his wedding night. So I asked him if he was thinking of marrying me and he said yes, if I still felt the same way about him when I’m eighteen.’
‘And supposing you change your mind when you’re nineteen?’ Marion asked.
Lucasta looked younger and more vulnerable than she had ever seen her. ‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘Anyway, there wouldn’t be anything I could do about it. They don’t have divorces in Gaston’s family. He says I’ll have to learn to behave myself and go to church on Sundays, and have lots of children like his parents did. Do you know he has three sisters and a brother, and they see each other all the time, although two of the girls are married. And I’ll see them too!’ Her eyes glowed with happiness. ‘They’ll be my family. Gaston Says it’s always like that in France. He says he’ll have to watch out that they don’t spoil me to death whenever his back is turned! Doesn’t it sound wonderful?’
‘Marvellous!’ Marion agreed. She thought that none of them knew how lonely Lucasta must have been in the past. It would be good for her to be part of a large family, but it wasn’t a good enough reason for marrying Gaston. She hesitated, not knowing how to put it. ‘Supposing Gaston had been an only child—’
‘Oh, Marion! We won’t always be in France! His work takes him all over the world and then there will only be the two of us. It isn’t only his family. You see, I love him very much.’
‘Do you?’ Marion’s face softened. ‘It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it?’ she said dreamily. ‘I’m so glad for you, pet.’
Lucasta, more practical in her approach to the family battle ahead of her, sat up with a bounce. ‘You’ll probably be the only one who is! And you will help me, won’t you?’
‘What can I do?’ Marion asked her.
‘It depends how fond of me you are,’ Lucasta began. ‘If Denise ever shuts up, Gaston is hoping to have a word with Gregory before going back to the site. If you were to come along too and speak for us, Gregory would be as nice as pie. He wouldn’t want to risk putting you out, would he? And he has to be glad that you’ll be able to stay on without any trouble to finish his rotten frescoes. I know he meant to send for your mother, but he wasn’t half as sure as he pretended he was that she would come. He has dogs and things at his home in Devon and she wouldn’t want to leave them, would she?’
Marion really didn’t know. It came as a shock to her that even Lucasta seemed to know more about her mother than she did herself. She had never seen her mother surrounded by animals and running a large country house. Her father had been allergic to fur and feathers and a great many other things besides, and her mother had defended him from them all with ruthless efficiency. It was hard to think of her now drooling over one of the enemy.
She sighed, feeling a little sorry for herself. ‘I’m not the only person in the world who can clean his frescoes for him! I don’t know that I want to stay! I have my career to think about.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Lucasta. ‘Of course you want to stay! I agree Denise is a pain in the neck, but you can always keep out of her way. It’s poor Gregory who has to put up with her!’
Marion’s mouth tightened into a disapproving line. Poor Gregory indeed! She had never met anyone who was more capable of looking after himself than Gregory Randall.
‘Couldn’t Gaston speak to him next week-end?’ she said out loud. ‘He must be terribly tired.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a mother hen!’ Lucasta castigated her. ‘Gregory is as strong as a horse!’
She e
ased herself off the bed and cast a critical eye over Marion’s appearance, nodding enthusiastically at the waiting Zein. ‘Gernil! Beautiful!’ she complimented her. ‘You look really nice, Marion. Denise will have to look to her laurels if you’re going to wear that kaftan for dinner. It’s super!’
Marion fingered the embroidery on the front with diffident fingers. ‘It’s really my dressing-gown, but it does for way-out occasions too. Do you really think I should wear it?’
‘I think it gives you a touch of the exotics,’ Lucasta enthused. ‘You couldn’t wear anything better than that if you want to stir up Gregory. I’ve seen him looking at you as it is, but in that—! You look a million dollars!’
Marion made no move to change. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ she said, and tried to ignore the knowing look in Lucasta’s eyes, ‘but I’m not trying to compete with Denise or anyone else!’
‘Not half!’ Lucasta retorted.
She hurried Marion out of the room, dragging her firmly down the corridor towards the drawing-room. The sound of Denise’s voice came clearly from the room ahead of them.
‘It wasn’t only me. Everybody noticed! Papa was simply furious. If you were going to behave like that, why did you come at all?’ She laughed harshly. ‘You ought to consider sometimes which side Felicity’s bread is buttered. Papa always listens to everything I tell him’
Gregory’s answer was too quiet for them to hear. The two girls exchanged glances and swept into the drawing-room, Marion with her best schoolmistress expression firmly in place.
‘Have you dried out yet?’ she demanded of Gregory, eyeing his damp clothing with disapproval.
‘Not yet.’
‘Then you’d better get changed now before we have you in bed with pneumonia,’ she snapped, ignoring the light that was dawning in his eyes. Lucasta pulled at her sleeve. ‘Oh’ yes,’ she added, ‘Gaston wants to see you before he goes, but not until you’ve changed out of those wet things.’
‘Mon dieu!’ Denise exclaimed. ‘She is your nanny now too! Tell her to go away, Gregory! We have no need of her!’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Gregory drawled, looking Marion up and down with appreciation.
Denise frowned, her eyes narrowing. ‘But you dare to displease me! It is too bad of you, Gregory, to be so disagreeable. You ruined the party for me! There was no need for you to be late, and to leave like that was monstrous! None of the other guests could move their cars because you had left the Land Cruiser in the entrance to the drive and nobody could move it. Papa has been indulgent with your eccentricities because he likes you, but he was very angry to find you so inconsiderate.’ She gathered herself up for the punch line, completely sure that she was going to get her own way. ‘You will fly back with me now and move the Land Cruiser from the drive! It is the least you can do!’
Gregory opened his mouth to speak, but Marion was before him. ‘Fly to Beirut now? I’ve never heard such nonsense! You can do as you like, Denise, but Gregory is going to bed and nobody is going to stop him!’
CHAPTER XII
Denise stood up. She was several inches taller than Marion and she made the most of them, looking down her nose at her as if to make a point of the English girl’s insignificance in her scheme of things.
‘Papa,’ she announced, ‘will not be pleased.’
‘I imagine he’s had worse disappointments,’ Marion retorted, standing her ground. ‘Besides, if he’s such a clever businessman, I’m sure he doesn’t allow personal matters to sway his business judgements. It’s ridiculous to expect Gregory to go miles just to move a car!’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Denise told her, affronted. ‘It was understood that Gregory and I would announce our engagement at the party yesterday. I had been looking forward to it!’ She pouted at Gregory and the tears came running into her eyes.
‘Understood by whom?’ Gregory enquired, unmoved.
‘Papa had heard from Felicity, and if your sister doesn’t know about your plans to get married at last, who does?’
‘You should have tried asking me,’ Gregory said mildly.
‘Then you do not wish to marry me?’
Gregory shook his head. ‘You’d hate it as much as I should, my dear. But if it will make things easier for you, I don’t mind telling Papa myself that Felicity was mistaken.’
‘If you wish.’ Denise shrugged one elegant shoulder. ‘What does it matter now? It is Felicity who will have to pay. Papa likes to get his money’s worth, and Felicity has made too many mistakes, no?’
Marion bristled with indignation. ‘But that’s blackmail!’ she exclaimed,
Denise shrugged again. ‘It is the way of the world. If you find the joker in your hand, you must make him count as much as possible. My joker is Papa. Can you produce something better?’
Marion stood very still, squaring her shoulders, her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘I don’t play cards,’ she said. ‘Not unless I know the stakes in advance. Did you or your father bother to explain the rules to Felicity by any chance, or are you keeping that particular ace up your sleeve too?’
‘What ace?’ Denise asked sulkily.
‘The one called spite, that’s going to put her and her husband out of a job. Or have I misunderstood you? Mind you, I can’t help feeling they’d be much better off not to be on your father’s payroll, but that’s their business.’
‘It is certainly none of yours! It is necessary that one of us should marry Gregory and, if I am willing, why should he not be?’ Denise made a restless movement, disturbed despite herself by Marion’s still dignity. ‘I am beautiful, more beautiful than you, so why shouldn’t he want me?’
What Marion might have said she never knew, for Lucasta weighed in with a grim determination to defend her parents. ‘The Hartleys don’t need you!’ she declared violently. ‘And if you don’t know why Gregory should prefer Marion, you jolly well ought to! At least she loves him! She doesn’t weigh him up in terms of hard cash or—or anything like that. She’d be content to live with him in a Bedouin tent if she had to!’
The silence that followed was something tangible in the room. Marion cast Gregory a stricken look and, turning on her heel, rushed out of the room. But Lucasta had not finished yet.
‘Why is it so important for you or Judith to marry Gregory anyway?’ she enquired.
Gregory gave his niece a wry smile. ‘I’ve been buying up shares in the company. Perhaps I should have told Felicity what I was doing, but she has a managing streak that doesn’t invite confidences of that sort.’
‘Well, what if you have been buying shares? What does it matter?’ Lucasta insisted.
Her uncle made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘Last year I became the majority shareholder.’ His smile grew wider. ‘You may not read my books, Lu, but thanks to them I plan to offer Marion something better than a black tent to live in—’
Lucasta gave a little skip of joy. ‘And Mother needn’t worry, need she? That’s good! She’ll do anything for you now! Gregory, will you see Gaston now, and Marion too, because it’s frightfully important. Everything depends on your saying yes!’ She snuggled into his arm, smiling up at him. ‘Marion thinks it’s a good idea,’ she assured him. ‘I’ve already told her, you see.’
‘Baggage!’ her uncle said with affection. ‘Take Gaston and Marion into my study and I’ll be along in a minute.’ He gave her a push in the direction of the door and then turned all his attention on to Denise. ‘Your father will be wondering where you are. The weather seems to be clearing, but you may have to stay the night if the forecast doesn’t get better.’
‘I’ll drive up with Gaston,’ she said stiffly.
Gregory inclined his head. ‘As you like. I’ll get him to tell you when he’s ready to go. Goodbye, Denise.’
But she would not answer. She longed for her father and for him to think of some way she could have her revenge on the man before here. Only this time, she already knew, her father’s money would avail her nothing,
and that was a shock in itself. All her life there had never been anything she had wanted that had not been bought for her. And she hated Gregory Randall all the more because he had not been for sale.
‘How could you,’ Marion wept. “How could you say such a thing, Lucasta? I don’t love him—’
‘Of course you do,’ Lucasta cut her off. ‘We all know it, so why pretend about it?’
‘Because he might not want me! I can’t—’
‘Of course you can, silly. What are you waiting for? If he’s what you want, why don’t you tell him so? You may as well get it straight from the start that you’ll only marry him if he never looks at the Denises or the Judiths of this world ever again.’
‘Lucasta!’ Marion wailed, scandalised.
‘Not,’ Lucasta went on ruthlessly, ‘that he liked either of them much, but some of the others have been quite something, and he is madly attractive. You should see them all jostling for position at one of Mother’s parties. All he’s ever had to do is raise a finger and they’ve all fallen over themselves to oblige him.’ She gave Marion an impertinent grin. ‘That’s probably why he went to pieces over you! You’d never chase anyone in a million years!’
‘Lucasta!’ Marion said again, more faintly than before. ‘I don’t think—’
‘Oh, Marion, you’re so square! Talk about a glimpse of stocking being something shocking! You should see your face! No wonder Gregory talks about candles and good deeds in a naughty world. It just shines out of you. It gives me a kick, so heaven knows what it does for him!’
