Voice of the Heart

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘That’s it, Doris,’ Diana said. ‘Come on, I’ll help you.’

  At this moment Nicholas Latimer and Jake Watson sailed through the French doors, in a hurry, knowing they were late. Nick stopped short, clutched Jake’s arm. His face stiffened and his heart missed a beat. Francesca was in his field of vision, slumped in the chair, her dress stained red. He leapt ahead of Jake. ‘Is she injured?’ he shouted, his fear running high.

  The Earl came to greet him. His smile was wan as he said, ‘No, no, Nick, a little accident I’m sorry to say. Red wine was spilled. I think Doris and Diana will be able to repair the damage, however, make the gown presentable.’

  ‘No, they won’t,’ Francesca said dully, her voice tremulous, faltering. ‘And it was such a beautiful gown. Nobody’s even seen it.’ She stared at Nick pointedly, then beyond him to Jake, her eyes frantic, seeking that third, and most special, face.

  Nick knew she was referring to Vic. He said, rather hurriedly, ‘Oh, Doris, David, I’m afraid Victor’s going to be slightly late. He had a ’phone call from the Coast. Just as we were leaving. Business. He’ll be here shortly though.’ His eyes remained on Francesca, signalling assurance.

  ‘Of course. We do understand,’ David said.

  Doris, straightening up, inclined her head graciously. ‘Excuse us, Nick, Jake, but Diana and I must get some garden tools.’

  Diana half smiled at the two new arrivals and followed Doris at a rapid pace, her gown flaring out behind her.

  Francesca fell back against the chair, nauseous and faint. She brushed her damp face with her hand, and then sudden relief trickled through her. She was glad Victor was late, that he was not seeing her like this. And quite unexpectedly her hopes soared. Perhaps Doris and Diana would be able to disguise the damage with the flowers. After all, her cousin was unusually creative, and imaginative with clothes. She looked down at the ugly splotches. Old blood, she thought. The stains look like old blood. She shivered.

  Nick’s expression revealed his love, his tenderness towards her, and he said, ‘Come on, kid, dry your tears.’ His laughter was lighthearted; he wished to diminish the importance of the problem, cheer her up. ‘You’re not meant to play the tragic heroine.’ As he mouthed these words he pictured Victor wrangling with Arlene back at La Réserve, prayed his friend would manage to escape, otherwise Francesca would indeed be a tragic heroine. Oh Jesus, he muttered under his breath. Nevertheless, he kept his smile in place, and continued brightly, ‘Let’s get you to your room, so you can fix up that gorgeous face of yours.’

  Jake, hovering solicitously, suggested, ‘Perhaps we can do something with this stole, tie it around your waist, drape it down the front of the gown. I’m sure it would be easy to stitch in place.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. ‘We’ll have you bandbox smart in no time, honey.’

  Doris and Diana were back, armed with flower baskets, gardening gloves, garden scissors. Doris, in full command and bristling with efficiency, said, ‘We’re going to the gardens. We’ll only be a few minutes. Yves is searching out some fine wire, so that we can bind the flowers into a corsage, maybe two. Marie has gone to my suite to heat the iron. Kim, please take your sister upstairs.’

  ‘Righto,’ Kim helped Francesca out of the chair.

  Katharine stepped towards her, and said in a quivering voice, ‘Frankie darling, I’m so terribly, terribly sorry. You know it was an accident, don’t you?’

  Francesca nodded. ‘Yes, Kath, of course I do.’ A tiny suggestion of a smile flicked into her hazel eyes, was gone. ‘I’d better get a move on before the other guests start arriving.’

  When his children had left, the Earl asked Jake and Nick what they would like to drink. ‘I guess it’s vodka on the rocks for both of us, please.’ Jake looked at Nick, who nodded, and then accompanied David to the bar.

  Nick stood alone with Katharine and Christian. Nick said incredulously, ‘So this is your fault… you spilled the wine…’ Anger bubbled inside him and he lit a cigarette, afraid to continue, afraid of what he might say.

  Katharine looked up into his lean, bronzed face, gave him a direct, unwavering stare. He’s wearing his flat blues, she thought, inspecting those eyes inspecting her, hating him. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘It was my fault. But it was an accident. I slipped.’ The bleakness on his face, his cold reproachful look, so unnerved her that she started to tremble, and tears swamped her eyes.

  Christian, witnessing this brief but icy exchange, was startled, for he had recognized the exceptional loathing they felt for each other. He broke the deathly silence when he said, ‘Now, now, Katharine my dear, don’t upset yourself further. Everyone knows it was an accident. Unfortunate, of course, but no one is blaming you. Come along, let’s go and sit over there at one of the tables, until you feel more composed.’

  ‘Yes,’ she mumbled, wanting to escape Nicholas Latimer. Her bête noire.

  Christian pushed himself ahead, then stopped. He swung his head, and said, ‘I’m afraid I gave my handkerchief to Francesca, Nick. Do you have one please, old chap? For Katharine.’

  Nick put his hand in his pocket, and gave her his white handkerchief without saying a word.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered with a small sniffle, choking back a sob, patting her eyes with it.

  ‘Please excuse me, Christian.’ Nick strode away as fast as possible. He joined Jake and the Earl at the bar, pressed down on his antipathy for Katharine, worried about Francesca.

  ***

  ‘What do you think we ought to do?’ Jake frowned, guided Nick away from the group of guests thronging one of the bars in the gardens.

  Nick exhaled heavily. ‘It beats me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Jesus, it’s ten thirty already! I bet he can’t shake free of Arlene.’

  Nicky looked so depressed that Jake’s own considerable worry intensified. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’

  ‘Sure I do.’

  Jake pondered briefly, then shook his head and asserted more positively, ‘I have to disagree. If I know Victor, he’ll extricate himself from that situation, and pronto. If he hasn’t done so by now. Look, I bet he’s on the road. Remember how long it took us to get here from Beaulieu tonight. Let’s give him enough time. And we’d better play it cool, bubeleh. Nice and cool and easy. If we start showing our nervousness, Francesca’s going to be alerted, and she’ll be upset again.’

  Startled though he was on hearing this, Nick kept a straight face. ‘I don’t get it… what do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve had my suspicions about Victor and Francesca for some time. He sort of confirmed it, without really doing so, if you know what I mean. Their secret’s safe with me. Victor knows I won’t blab. I also get the picture. Arlene’s a crafty dame, and as hard boiled as they come, as I’ve been telling him for the longest time. So I don’t blame him for being cagey. Don’t worry, Nicky, I’ve every intention of protecting him all the way in this. I love that guy, in much the same manner you do. I owe him everything. I think he deserves a bit of happiness in his life… Francesca’s exactly right for him, and I told him so. In no uncertain terms.’

  Nick realized there was no purpose to be served by dissembling any longer. Honesty was in order. ‘Okay, so you know. And Vic knows you know. Let’s just leave it at that for now. I think I’m going to call him, Jake, find out what’s going—’

  ‘Watch it,’ Jake warned. ‘Diana’s heading this way. And look happy, for Christ’s sake. Your face is funereal.’

  Diana walked into Nicky’s outstretched arms, her smile wide. ‘There you are, darling,’ she said, kissing his cheek. He hugged her fiercely, adoring her. After a second, she freed herself from his embrace, turned to Jake, who bent forward to kiss her.

  She said, ‘I’m sorry there was such an uproar when you first arrived. I didn’t even get a chance to say hello to you both.’

  ‘We understand,’ Jake replied. ‘How is Francesca? And where is she?’

  Diana waved a hand in the direction of
the terrace. ‘Up there. We just came downstairs a few minutes ago, and she got caught up with some of her father’s guests—from England. And she’s marvellous, feeling happy again. We had the dress pressed, and Doris and I made several sprays of flowers. They cover the stains… well, just about. Cheska redid her make-up whilst we worked on the gown, and she’s as beautiful as ever.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ Nick stepped back, eyed Diana. A little silver odalisque, he thought, drinking in her beauty. She was dressed in a loose flowing gown of pearl-grey chiffon, the fabric shot through with silver threads. It was cut low at the front in a V neckline, and had long wide sleeves. A strand of diamonds gleamed at her throat, matching the delicate bracelets on each wrist, the single solitaires in each ear. Her silver-gilt hair was smoothed away from her face, and dropped down her back in a plait entwined with silver ribbons. ‘And you never looked lovelier, Diana!’ he exclaimed, and beamed approvingly.

  ‘Why thank you, darling.’ She dropped a small curtsy.

  ‘I second that,’ Jake said. ‘Now, my fair one, what can I get you to drink?’

  ‘I think I’ll have a vodka and tonic, please. I need it after this rather fraught hour.’

  ‘No sooner said than done.’ Jake disappeared.

  Putting his arm around her, pulling her to him possessively, Nick murmured. ‘I haven’t had a chance to tell you I love you today. And I do. More and more as the minutes tick by.’

  ‘And I love you, my dearest Nicky,’ she responded, her eyes glowing, confirming her words.

  ‘Let’s keep it that way, shall we?’

  ‘For ever.’ She smiled up at him. Their gaze held steady on each other. I hope it will be for ever, Nick thought. He considered Vic’s cautionary words of a week ago, as he had been doing since they had had their man-to-man talk. Vic had warned him not to aim so high with Diana, not to expect his romance with her to become anything more than just that—a romance. Victor believed she was too devoted to her brother and her mother, too concerned about her father’s fate, to make a serious commitment to any man. Vic had told him he would get hurt if he didn’t watch his step. I’ll take my chances with her, Nick decided for the hundredth time. He kissed the top of Diana’s head, touched her face lightly.

  ‘You looked so pensive for a moment, Nicholas Latimer. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’ve got you in my arms, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes. And for me that’s the happiest, safest place to be.’ Diana nestled closer. ‘And you’re the nicest, sweetest man I’ve ever known, and so very considerate. Thanks, darling, for bringing Christian to the gardens. Uncle David told me how solicitous you were, pushing him down the driveway and out here. Where is he, do you know?’

  ‘Last seen in the clutches of pretty Belinda Ampher.’ Nick glanced around. ‘Look, they’re down by the other bar. Want to join them?’

  Diana’s eyes found her brother. She smiled happily. ‘No, he seems as if he’s having a good time. I’m so glad Belinda’s taken to him. Here comes the radiant Cheska!’ She waved to her cousin.

  ‘You’re as good as new, kid,’ Nick told Francesca enthusiastically when she joined them.

  ‘Thanks to Doris, and this very talented girl,’ she said, linking her arm through Diana’s. ‘Didn’t she do an imaginative and skilful job with the flowers, Nicky?’

  ‘And then some, kid. They look as if they belong to the gown. Nobody would guess they’re camouflage.’

  Jake meandered back with Diana’s drink. He gave it to her, then took hold of Francesca’s hand, twirled her around. ‘You’re perfection,’ he announced.

  The sweetest of smiles touched her lips. ‘Thank you, Jake. Thanks also for being so nice earlier. You too, Nicky. You both made me feel so much better.’ She craned her neck, her eyes sweeping the gardens, and remarked casually, ‘There’s quite a crowd here already I see. By the way, where’s Victor?’

  Nick had been dreading the question, and he swallowed. Jake, sensing he was discomfited, swiftly pronounced, ‘Traffic! I mean he’s undoubtedly stuck on the corniche. You know what it’s like in this neck of the woods on Saturday nights. Particularly in August with all the tourists.’

  ‘Yes, the roads are pretty gruesome. Well, I expect he’ll get here some time.’ Francesca hoped her dismay and disappointment were not showing, that she did not sound offhand. ‘I’m afraid I was so distracted when you got here, I didn’t actually hear what you said. About the reason for his delay.’ She cast a sidelong look at Nick.

  She heard all right, Nick thought. She’s playing it cool because of Jake’s presence. He said, ‘Victor had a business call. From the Coast.’ Improvising now, he went on, ‘The studio called. Fox. About the Western he’s going to make for them in November. Something to do with his co-stars. I’m not—’ The rest of Nick’s sentence was smothered by a gasp. He frowned, his attention concentrated on the man approaching them from the main lawn. ‘Holy Christ!’ He grabbed Jake’s arm. ‘Do my eyes deceive me, old buddy, or is that really Mike Lazarus heading straight for us?’

  ‘By God, it is!’

  ‘What the hell is he doing here?’ Nick asked Francesca.

  ‘I believe he’s staying with Beau Stanton, at the villa in Cap d’Antibes. I vaguely remember Doris saying something about Beau wanting to bring his house guests, the day we were writing the place cards. He has Pandora Tremaine and her mother in tow, as well as Mike Lazarus and Hilly Street. That’s all I know.’ Surprised at Nick’s strong reaction, she asked anxiously, ‘Why are you upset?’

  Nick opened his mouth, shut it, as Lazarus drew to a stop in front of them. Mike Lazarus smiled, inclined his head courteously, his rapid glance encompassing them all. ‘Hello, my friend. How are you?’ He thrust his hand at Nick.

  Knowing he had no option but to respond with cordiality, Nicky took the hand, shook it. ‘I’m fine, Mike. And you?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better,’ Lazarus replied.

  Nick made the introductions, and Lazarus said to Francesca, ‘Ah yes, you’re the Earl of Langley’s daughter. I just met your brother. Charming young man. We had a most enlightening talk about art, about Turner to be specific. I’m a collector, you know, and I’ve always hankered after a Turner. Your brother told me your father owns quite a number of incomparable watercolours by him. Apparently they’re not for sale. A pity.’

  Francesca nodded, answered several questions which Lazarus posed to her, and then stood listening politely as he continued his dissertation on art.

  Nick had to admit that the man was extremely knowledgeable, knew his subject, spoke with authority. He was a connoisseur. He’s also a son of a bitch, Nick said to himself. He studied Lazarus keenly, wary of him, responding to him with the same intense dislike and apprehension as he had the afternoon they met in the Ritz. Nick felt the man’s enormous power, his controlled strength, caught the resonance of it in his voice. The smile on his dark face was benign, but the eyes, so palely blue, were cold, deadly. He’s dangerous, Nick thought. Machiavellian. A throwback to those sinister Princes of the Blood. Scheming, plotting, manipulative. A killer.

  Lazarus spoke.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mike, I didn’t quite catch that,’ Nick apologized.

  Irritation flicked into the pale eyes. ‘I said Beau introduced me to Katharine Tempest.’ His smile was almost a sneer. He went on, ‘Seemingly I was wrong about the young lady. Beau says she is sublime. I must agree. Not that I have seen her on the screen, as Beau and Hillard have, but she is indeed sublime in the flesh. A perfect beauty. Flawless. She is like a delicate statue, cut from ivory. You know, she ought to be sculpted. But who could do her justice? Only a Michelangelo. I must apologize to Victor for being so dismissive of her. Incidentally, I hear from everyone that he pulled it off. From what Hillard says, Wuthering Heights is one hell of a picture after all.’

  Nick and Jake immediately became embroiled with Lazarus on the subject of the film. Diana found this fascinating, gave her attention to the three men. But Francesca shut ou
t their voices, dwelling on the things Lazarus had said about Katharine, reviewing his words. He talked about Kath as if she were an object, not a person. A beautiful inanimate thing to be acquired, another possession for his collection, to put in his gallery, she thought. Probably under glass and appropriately lighted. Francesca bit her inner lip. What a peculiar man. So cold and pompous and just a little frightening. She discovered she did not like him at all.

  Lazarus said, ‘Ah, excuse me, gentlemen, I see my fiancée.’ He raised his right arm, beckoned with his index finger.

  Nick’s heart skipped. Hélène Vernaud, tall, splendid, outrageously glamorous in pale-green watered silk and a blaze of emeralds, was gliding across the grass, a smile fixed on her elegant, intelligent face. He almost fell over when she extended her hand to him.

  ‘Hello, Nicholas. How nice to see you again.’

  Her natural greeting, the warmth of her tone, the tranquil expression in her eyes told him that Lazarus was now acquainted with their past relationship, and that it did not matter. He took her hand, weighted by an impressive emerald that had to be all of thirty-five carats, and said, ‘It’s been a long time, Hélène. You’re as beautiful as always.’

  She smiled, dropped his hand, positioned herself next to Lazarus, and Nick introduced her to everyone. Hélène, looking at Francesca, said, ‘How gracious Madame Asternan is, so raffinée, so ravissante. I am so happy to be here, to be part of the celebration of her engagement to your father. And to see many old friends. That is always a pleasure, n’est-ce pas?’ she finished in her curiously stilted English.

  ‘Oh yes, I couldn’t agree more,’ Francesca replied graciously, smiling inwardly at Nick’s expression, fully aware that Hélène Vernaud was a former girl friend. She wondered if Diana knew this.

  Nick said, ‘I understand you’re staying with Beau Stanton, Hélène. Will you be on the Riviera long?’

  ‘I do not know, Nicholas. That is up to Michel. The yacht sails into Monte Carlo tomorrow. We may cruise to the Greek Islands.’ She smiled at Lazarus, as though asking him their plans. He looked enigmatic, made no comment, and Hélène added, ‘I do not see Victor anywhere.’