by Lily Hammond
And their first meeting had been hopeful, had it not? It had. Clemency had been very nice, although for a short while after Libby had given her the letter from Regina and Hetty, things had been a little awkward, and Clemency had not seemed to know where to look, but Libby had smoothed that over very well, steering the conversation back to photography. Clemency had talked about her work and her plans and Libby had been content to listen, even found herself more than interested, and a very pleasant couple hours had passed. She knew she’d got the job even as she’d watched Clemency walk away from the hotel lounge.
Tonight, Libby planned to direct the talk towards more personal matters, and just the thought of that made her heart jounce around in her chest. She patted it and smiled coolly as a man passed her, eyeing her and hesitating as though he were going to ask if she needed assistance. She waved him on, impatient for Clemency to arrive. What on earth was keeping the woman?
And as though she’d conjured her, Clemency stepped out of the crowd and smiled across at her.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said.
Clemency was tall, had been Libby’s first thought upon meeting her. Tall and good looking, with a neatly shaped head, her fashionable shingled cut accentuating the long neck and green eyes. She was slim too, and obviously liked clothes. Which, Libby knew from Regina and Hetty, Clemency was well able to buy, and of a very good quality. Clothes were easy to like, she thought, smoothing down her dress again, when one was able to easily afford them.
Of course, Clemency photographed the cream of Dunedin society, and so would have to look good while doing it.
‘Only a few minutes,’ Libby said, cutting it down considerably. She smiled at Clemency, a flush of warmth spreading unbidden through her. Clemency was good looking, all right. And they had a lot in common. Not least of which was being much the same height – something Libby came across far too seldom, and which she greatly appreciated. She preferred to fall in love with women whose eyes she could meet.
She smiled.
‘All right,’ Clemency said. ‘Shall we go upstairs?’
But Libby found she had other plans, bold ones. ‘Actually, I’m awfully hungry,’ she said. ‘How about we go and get something to eat – particularly if you have the good news for me that I suspect you do.’
Clemency’s laugh was sexy too.
‘That sounds a fine idea,’ Clemency said. ‘I haven’t eaten for hours – and yes, I do have good news for you.’ She put the door keys back in her purse and looked around the street. ‘If you’re still keen to take it on, of course.’
Libby smiled delightedly.
‘I’m very keen,’ she said. ‘And very happy – thank you.’
Clemency shrugged. ‘You were the best person for the job.’ She decided where she wanted to eat. ‘How about Bon Café? Just a little place, but they have some of the best fish in town.’
Libby tipped her head to the side and thought she would just go ahead and play as many cards as she could. Her smile was inviting. ‘I think we could do better than that, surely?’ She stepped up to Clemency and threaded her arm through Clemency’s. ‘I’ve not been to Dunedin for years – since I was a child. Let’s go get a cocktail, and some proper dinner.’ Almost, she leaned her chin on Clemency’s shoulder – yes, Clemency was a very good height for her. ‘My hotel has the loveliest little bar where we could have an intimate little drink.’
For a moment, Clemency was going to shake her head and turn Libby down. Her body ached after all, with the memory of Eliza’s touch. She shook herself. Eliza was going to Greymouth. Eliza was unsuitable. She drew a breath.
‘That is a marvellous idea,’ she said. Then unexpectedly added, ‘I can’t be too late, however. I’ve an early appointment.’
Libby raised an eyebrow at that. She hadn’t anticipated that Clemency Westerly would be such an old fogey, and so reluctant. Hadn’t Hetty told her that she’d spoken to Maxine just a few days ago and Maxine had said that Clemency was lonely for a woman?
Well, here she was, and she was a woman, and even if she was saying so herself, she was not a woman without her charms.
They had plenty in common. Libby might not have quite so much money in the bank, but she was well-bred, and socially almost the equal of Clemency. Hetty had been very encouraging, and Libby was tired of being on her own. She wanted to move forward with her life, and if possible, to do so on the arm of someone attractive and talented. Like Clemency Westerly.
‘I’m parked over there,’ Clemency said, and pointed just down the street. Libby raised her eyebrows. She’d been so busy grumbling to herself about Clemency being late, she hadn’t noticed the motor car pulling over to park.
‘What a great motor!’ she said. She smoothed a hand over the fabric top. ‘It’s a rag top,’ she said, delighted. ‘Oh, you must take me out in it sometime – we could go for a picnic with the top down. It would be glorious!’ She turned shining eyes on Clemency.
Clemency nodded. ‘That would be lovely,’ she said, but she was thinking about Eliza glowing with pleasure as they drove around the water to Port Chalmers.
Eliza had looked at everything and Clemency had enjoyed that. It made her feel fresh and young too, seeing everything through Eliza’s eyes. The land that she loved, and the harbour; Eliza had really looked at it. Clemency closed the passenger’s door on Libby and went around to the driver’s side. Not everyone really looked at things. Not the way she knew Eliza did.
Most people looked at the inside of their head, more often than not, she thought. Thinking about how they were being seen, or about what they wanted to say next. Eliza wasn’t like that.
Clemency opened the driver’s door and slid in behind the steering wheel, still lost in her thoughts. Eliza noticed things. Everything. Clemency had watched Eliza’s face as much as she’d been able, on their way out to the house. Eliza had examined everything her gaze rested on. Including Clemency.
Clemency flushed.
And winced. The drive back to Maxine and Ruth’s house, she hadn’t been able to look at Eliza.
She’d treated her shamefully. Unforgivably. Abruptly, Clemency knew she had to make it up to the girl. Somehow. Perhaps there was some sort of gift she could give her before she left. She’d have to think about it.
‘Are you all right?’ Libby asked. She’d been watching Clemency.
Clemency glanced at her, then started the motor. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Why do you ask?’
Libby shook her head. ‘You were a thousand miles away.’
There was a break in the traffic and Clemency took advantage of it, pulling the motor car out onto the street. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long and somewhat tiring day.’ She glanced at her passenger and remembered her manners. ‘I’ll do better,’ she said and smiled. ‘I promise.’
‘Tell me,’ Libby said, twisting around and hooking an elbow over the back of her seat. If she stretched her arm out, she’d be able to touch the back of Clemency’s neck, that shivery little piece of skin there above her collar where her hair curled so intimately.
‘Tell you what?’ Clemency asked.
‘About your day,’ Libby replied. ‘Your long and somewhat tiring day.’
Clemency coughed, startled. ‘Ah, well,’ she stammered. ‘It wasn’t interesting, really.’
Libby literally itched to reach out and touch a finger to the delicate nape of Clemency’s neck. ‘Surely not,’ she said. ‘There must have been at least one bright spot to it.’ Her voice was low, teasing.
Shaking her head, Clemency flashed on Eliza leaning down over her, hair a red silk curtain. When she answered her voice was hoarse. ‘Tell me about your day instead,’ she said, and cleared her throat.
Libby laughed. ‘Well, if you insist.’ Clemency had a little mole on her neck, and Libby wanted to press a finger to it. She dropped her hand into her lap and stared out the windscreen again. ‘I too, had an uninteresting day, on the whole.’ She linked her fingers together. ‘I spent the mornin
g wandering through the shops.’ Looking for a dress for tonight, one that would make Clemency sit up and pay attention. Without being too flashy. It had been a surprisingly difficult combination.
And so far, she was fairly sure Clemency had not noticed it. But then, there had yet to be the perfect opportunity.
Libby gave a delicious little shudder.
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘Is the music always this good here?’ Libby asked, leading the way to the hotel bar and perching herself on a high stool like this was something she did every day. She watched Clemency take the seat next to her and lift her hand to get the bartender’s attention. Inside her chest, her heart started up a quick twostep. She liked the way Clemency was so effortlessly in charge of her life, and how comfortable she was in surroundings like this.
Libby had chosen the ornate hotel very carefully. She’d taken soundings from all her friends who had visited the city of Dunedin and had pored over the newspaper advertisements for accommodation before making her choice. She wanted somewhere that sparkled but wasn’t gaudy. She wanted comfort and ease that spoke of having enough, but that wasn’t dowdy. Somewhere just…right.
Clemency blinked and looked around. There was a small jazz band playing in the other room and she realised it must be Friday or Saturday night.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember the last time I came here.’ She frowned. ‘What day is it?’
Libby tried to smile. ‘Friday,’ she said. ‘Glorious Friday evening, so I’m sure we’ll both be able to sleep in tomorrow morning.’ She stretched a little in her seat, tilting her head just so. ‘I will be, for certain.’ She tapped her slim fingers on the polished bar. ‘Although, since I have a nice shiny new job here, I think I’ll have to begin my search for somewhere to live.’
The bartender made his way over to them and Clemency smiled automatically at him, then looked to Libby. ‘What will you have?’ she asked.
Libby licked her lips. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic,’ she said.
Clemency nodded at the bartender. ‘Make that two, please,’ she said, and turned to look properly at Libby, pushing everything else from her mind. She looked at the fair hair, slightly longer than her own, but cut into a very stylish bob that skimmed Libby’s chin in a way that managed to bring attention both to her long neck and her high cheekbones. They stylist had been talented. Clemency smiled, appreciating it.
‘Do you know your way around at all?’ she asked.
Libby tossed her hair and smiled reflexively at the bartender when he placed her drink in front of her. She picked it up and sipped before answering looking at Clemency over the rim of the glass.
‘Not at all,’ she said.
Clemency reached for her own glass and took a sip. ‘You have your grandmother here, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but I’ve been a terrible granddaughter, I’m afraid.’ Libby gave a rather tight shrug. ‘Family hasn’t really been my thing, if you know what I mean. At least – not the family of my birth.’ She tried to smile. ‘Your parents are both gone, though, aren’t they?’
‘Yes. My mother died a few hours after I was born.’ She blinked at the old story. ‘That’s how I came to be called Clemency, apparently.’
Libby wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t understand’ she said.
Clemency laughed. ‘I’m not surprised.’ She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, an unthinking gesture, then looked up to see Libby watching her doing it, her face naked, lips parted with unhidden desire. Clemency swallowed and picked the glass up. Held it. Tried to remember what she’d been saying.
‘Ah, well,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure it is an entirely flattering story – at least for my father. He named me Clemency to remind himself to extend mercy to me even though I had been the cause of my mother’s death.’ She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘He and my mother were deeply in love, so I’ve been told.’
Libby’s eyes widened. ‘That’s terrible,’ she said. ‘That’s a horrible story. Do you have a middle name?’
Clemency shrugged. ‘Alma,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ Libby looked Clemency over. ‘You don’t really suit Alma.’
‘Clemency it shall remain, then,’ Clemency said, raising her glass in a toast. ‘To your new business,’ she said.
Libby picked up her glass and clinked it against Clemency’s. She held Clemency’s gaze. ‘To my new business, and to my new boss.’
Clemency shifted in her chair, feeling the air suddenly charged between them like a small electrical storm. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she had to resist putting a hand behind there to smooth them back down. She raised her glass to her lips without adding the toast to us.
Although there could be an us, if she chose – she saw that. It was written plain as day on Libby’s face, in the way her chin tilted down, her eyelids lowered so that she looked at Clemency through the veil of her lashes.
Clemency swallowed a mouthful of the gin and tonic and coughed, spluttering.
Libby put down her drink and got up, patting Clemency firmly on the back. ‘Are you all right?’ She left her hand there, warm against the silk blouse Clemency wore, warm against her spine.
Clemency managed a nod, red-faced, and turned her head slightly. Libby’s face was right there, her lips only inches away as she bent down to look at Clemency. She saw the smattering of freckles across Libby’s cheeks. Saw that Libby’s eyes were green, like her own, only lighter, a pale golden green. They could pass for sisters, the two of them, she realised, both tall, blonde, green-eyed. Perhaps cousins. Libby’s face was rounder. Clemency swallowed again, and let her gaze wander down over Libby’s shoulders. Libby was round where she was lean. Full-breasted where she herself was small. Full-hipped where she was longer, slimmer.
Not sisters, then. And not sisters at all with the way Libby looked at her, green eyes searching, green eyes saying how they liked what they found. Clemency licked her lips.
Smiling, Libby stood up again at last. She was reluctant to take her hand from the warmth of Clemency’s back, but the maître-d stood waiting to show them to a table.
‘I think they’re ready to seat us,’ she said, stepping back and picking up her purse and drink. Her coat had been checked when they’d entered. But beneath the words, she was thinking. Now Clemency knows, she thought. I’ve made it clear. I desire her – and why not? There is nothing to stand between us.
Her pulse leapt under the skin at her wrist as they were shown to their table, and she waited for Clemency to reply to her. To say by word or gesture that she had heard her and returned the sentiment.
Clemency picked up the menu and held it up, eyes scanning the words, not reading any of them. She could feel the slow heat of her skin, the prickling in her palms, and she could feel Libby looking at her for a long moment before picking up her own menu. She had heard Libby’s unspoken invitation as clearly as if she’d said it out loud. She knew Libby was waiting for a reply. A waiter hovered nearby, and she gestured to him and asked for a bottle of wine for the table.
Libby lifted her head and smiled, and then the smile faltered when she saw the shadows in Clemency’s eyes. She frowned for a moment.
‘Is there someone already?’ she asked. ‘Regina and Hetty did not say there was.’
Was there someone else? Clemency cleared her throat but said nothing for a long moment. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted at last.
Libby raised an eyebrow. ‘You do not know?’
The waiter brought the wine and Libby waited for him to pour their drinks. He did not give them the option of sampling the bottle first as there was no man at the table. She waited for him to take their orders and picked the first thing she saw on the menu. Clemency ordered the same thing.
‘You do not know?’ she repeated, when the man had gone away to the kitchen.
Clemency picked up her wine glass. Libby’s stood untouched. Clemency looked down at the ruby liquid, took a sip, wet her lips. ‘There is s
omeone,’ she said. ‘In a manner of speaking. But she is leaving town and I’ll not see her again.’
Libby relaxed. That was all right then. She reached for her wine glass and tipped it toward Clemency in a little salute, a small smile on her lips. She could wait, she thought.
‘Had you been seeing her for long?’ Libby asked, wanting to calculate how involved Clemency had been, how long she would have to wait for the heart pangs to ease. Unless, of course, that she could avail herself as a healthy distraction. She sipped at the wine. That was a good idea. It was always said that the best way to get over a heartbreak was to find someone new.
Not, of course, that Libby wanted to be a mere dalliance while Clemency’s heart mended. She looked at Clemency across the table, at the narrow, sophisticated face, the eyes that glowed in the golden skin like emeralds. Clemency was the sort of person she could see building an entire life with. And they’d got along well, so far. They understood each other, she thought. They had a lot in common. It was as good a foundation as you could come by.
Clemency was forced to shake her head. ‘Only a couple times,’ she said. ‘It had not really had a chance to become much of anything.’ She picked up her glass again, feeling a pang at her own words. The truth of them made something knock around inside her, and she searched for what it was, then closed her eyes and swallowed the wine when she realised it was regret.
‘But you wanted it to?’ Libby asked, probing.
Opening her eyes, Clemency looked over the table at her companion, and did not reply right away. She could not decide upon the answer. ‘Truthfully,’ she said at last. ‘There has not been time for me to decide whichever way. We met, we saw each other twice, and now she is leaving.’
Libby’s interest was sparked now. ‘Where is she going?’ She tried to imagine who this mystery woman was. Not someone anyone seemed to know about. Sapphic society was a tight knit one. Which was one of the reasons Libby had been so keen to move from Christchurch to Dunedin. She wasn’t getting any younger, and as all her friends paired off, the pickings were slimmer. She leaned back slightly in her chair. ‘Where is she from?’ she asked.