Master of Comus

by Charlotte Lamb

  It was difficult to reconcile the curt, angry man who had been her usual companion since they arrived in Paris with the man who had just made love to her, or with the charming, teasing stranger she had known on Comus.

  That evening they had dinner with Emilie and Klaus, who lived in a discreetly expensive flat sev- eral streets away from them. Emilie was a cheerful, casual hostess, chattering to Leonie in the corner of a huge white sofa while Paul and Klaus leaned against a bookcase and talked soberly of business.

  Look at them,' Emilie said under her breath. 'Like little boys talking about football. Men never grow up, do they? They play their games all their lives.'

  Don't women, too? As little girls we play at being mothers, with our dolls. I suppose all children's games are practising for adult life.'

  'Ah but with us it is real when we grow up. With men—never. Work is still a game to them. They have to win, whether it is a business deal or a woman. It is all a question of status. But with ; women, the business of having children makes us suddenly adult. Then we have charge of another life and that is a sobering Situation.' Emilie laughed. 'One I shall have to face soon.'

  You're expecting a baby?' Leonie was thrilled. 'When?'

  'Oh, six months to go yet. We are not telling people for the moment. Once everyone knows I shall start being left out of parties. I've seen it before—a i pregnant woman is treated like an imbecile ... oh, poor girl, they say. She won't want to come in her condition!' Emilie grimaced. 'So don't tell anyone, will you?'

  'Of course not. Is Klaus pleased?'

  Pleased? He is ecstatic. Anyone would think he managed it all by himself.' Emilie grinned. 'He would like to go around boasting to the whole world. I have had trouble persuading him to keep it to himself. I think Diane suspects, though. Did you notice her little dig at me last night? Diane is a cat, but she has intuition, and of course, she is particularly quick to sense when anyone else is pregnant.

  Leonie looked a question.

  Emilie leaned closer and lowered her voice. 'Diane cannot have babies. She and George wanted them, but the doctors have said it is impossible, and it is Diane who can't have them, not George.

  'I wonder if that's why ...poor Diane!'

  'Of course, it explains a great deal,' nodded Emilie. 'But I'm afraid it does not make me like her any better. She is so spiteful.'

  'She must be very bitter,' said Leonie, thinking of Diane's curved, pink and gold ripeness. Who would have suspected by looking at her that she was unable to have children? If any woman looked built for motherhood it was Diane. She looked the very essence of fertility.

  'It is George I am most sorry for—he would make a wonderful father.'

  'Who would?' Klaus asked, approaching on the last words. His face looked blandly teasing as he eyed his young wife.

  'Not you, anyway,' said Emilie with a grin.

  'Paul?' Klaus turned to give Paul a broad smile. 'Don't tell me you are already expecting a happy event?' His brows rose in amused enquiry.

  Paul flushed darkly. 'No,' he said tightly. 'Not to my knowledge.' His blue eyes flashed an angry question at Leonie.

  'We Were talking about a third party,' said Emilie. 'But I have told Leonie our secret, darling.'

  Klaus beamed. 'Well, I' m glad to have one excuse for breaking out the cigars and best brandy,' he said delightedly.

  'What's this?' Paul looked at Emilie with a smile. 'Do i gather that it's Klaus after all who will make a wonderful father?'

  'I hope SO,' Emilie said, laughing. 'He had better! Or I will know the reason why.'

  No brandy for you then,' said Paul, nodding.

  You see?' Emilie sighed, turning to give Leonie a comical look of disgust. 'It starts at once. If Klaus had his way I would be rolled in cotton wool for the next six months and put in a cupboard.'

  'No, darling,' Klaus corrected her. 'In a lovely glass case where I could look at you every day! Like Snow White.'

  'It was the seven ugly little dwarfs who put her in the case, Emilie pointed out. 'She had to wait for the Prince to let her out.'

  'In our case it is reversed,' said Klaus. 'The Prince will put you in and an ugly little dwarf will arrive to let you out.'

  Are you calling my baby an ugly little dwarf?' She was indignant.

  'Most babies are,' said Klaus, his teasing barely concealing his joy.

  'Not mine,' she said with determination. 'My baby will be exquisite and brilliant.'

  'Like me,' Klaus nodded.

  She punched him lightly. 'What vanity!'

  They all laughed and the evening flowed on in the same happy vein. Emilie's news seemed to give them all a feeling of warm pleasure which cast a glow over the evening.

  When they were back in their own flat the sensation remained with them. Paul hummed softly as he made hot chocolate for them both. Leonie turned on the radio and found some soft dance music on a late- night show.

  Paul turned and looked at her, his blue eyes veiled by their half-lowered lids.

  'Do you ever think of that fellow in England?' he asked her abruptly.

  Leonie looked blank. 'What fellow in England?' Then she realised what he meant, and felt herself flush. 'No,' she said quickly.

  'You must have been badly in love with him to be so hurt,' Paul said.

  'I was naive enough to be taken in by a good line of patter,' she shrugged.

  'I remember you once told me I reminded you of him,' Paul said softly, watching her. 'Does that still apply?'

  She flushed. 'No. I'm sorry I said it. It wasn't true, of course. I was just…'

  'Sticking the knife in?'

  'I suppose SO,' she admitted unhappily.

  'And you have no secret hankering for him?' Paul asked.

  'None at all,' she said firmly.

  He moved towards her slowly, his eyes holding hers. Just then the telephone rang. Paul cursed under his breath.

  'Who on earth can that be at this hour?' He moved quickly into the next room. The ringing stopped. Leonie heard his voice, curt and peremptory. 'Yes?' Then silence. Then a low exclamation of shocked dismay.

  'My God! But how...' Silence followed. Then Paul said gently, 'Yes, of course, Diane. I'll be there right away.'

  Diane? Leonie felt a sharp stab of jealousy. Why was Diane ringing Paul at this time of night? And why was Paul prepared to go out obediently at her lightest request? What had there been between them before Paul flew to Comus? Could the relationship have been deeper than everyone supposed? Was it true, as Emilie had told her, that Paul was just one of Diane's circle of admiring males? Or was there something more serious between the two of them? Diane's malice towards her had been so personal that Leonie's feminine intuition told her Diane had suffered from bitter jealousy towards her.

  Paul appeared in the doorway, shrugging into his jacket again, his shirt open at the neck, exposing the strong brown column of his throat.

  She looked at him calmly, masking her fear.

  'I have to go out,' he said. 'That was Diane. George has had a heart attack.'

  'Oh, no!' she was aghast at her own earlier 1 thoughts. 'Poor George!' Then, from shame at herself, 'Poor Diane! Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to come with you?'

  Shaking his head Paul said, 'No, get off to bed. You look tired. They've taken George to hospital.

  Diane wanted someone to talk to while she waits for news. She's in a state of shock, which isn't surprising. George has always looked so healthy. This is a very unexpected development. Coming so suddenly it's knocked her completely off balance. I've never heard Diane sound so distraught.'

  'She must be very worried,' nodded Leonie.

  Paul sighed. 'Yes, of course. Well, goodnight. Don't stay up late. You need some sleep.'

  When he had gone Leonie slowly tidied up, put out all the lights, showered and slipped into her nightdress, then got into bed. She could not relax; her mind was far too active. She tossed and turned on her pillows, consumed with anxiety.

  She remembe
red Diane's cold contempt towards her husband at that dinner party. Could that have masked real affection? Somehow Leonie did not believe it. Diane did not love George. No doubt his heart attack had been a shock to her, but Leonie found it disturbing that it should have been to Paul that Diane turned at such a moment.

  If George died Diane would be free...

  She sat up restlessly, biting her lip. Such a thought was cruel in the circumstances, selfish and petty, yet it would not be banished.

  If Diane was free what effect would that have on Paul, on their marriage? How did Paul really feel towards Diane?

  Thinking of the other woman's blonde beauty Leonie could only feel miserably afraid. She had no weapons to combat Diane's sophisticated loveliness. Diane had the advantage of having known Paul for years, of sharing a past with him.

  Her head began to ache intolerably. She padded into the bathroom and found some aspirin in the cupboard. Taking two with a glass of water, she settled down in bed again with a book, a detective story she had found in Paul's bookcase.

  Somehow she managed to concentrate on the involved plot, but the characters were so bizarre and the background so gothic that she could not engage herself with the story. At last her eyelids began to droop. She put out the light and fell slowly to sleep.

  When she woke up she heard the vacuum cleaner humming in another room. Daylight lay over the room like a pall. She slid out of bed and moved to the window. It was a grey morning with a smell of rain in the air. It matched her mood.

  Madame Delarge was cheerful as she passed, bidding her a brisk good-morning.

  Leonie felt numb and depressed. She drank some chilled orange juice, sipped at a cup of strong coffee, looked through the Paris newspapers, practising her schoolgirl French. She had made up her mind to read a newspaper once a day in order to improve her grasp of the language, but today the print blurred before her eyes.

  Paul was not back yet. His room stood empty, the bed still neat and unused.

  Doris rang at eleven. 'Have you heard?' 'About George? Yes.'

  'Do you know the latest bulletin?'

  'I only know he had a heart attack last night and is in hospital,' Leonie said.

  'Paul rang Carl this morning. Apparently George is holding his own, but only just. It's touch and go.'

  'How is Diane taking it?' Leonie had to ask. Paul had not rung her. He had rung his friends, but he had not rung her. What did that indicate? What was going on between those two at the hospital?

  Doris made a little grunt of disgust. 'Who knows? Paul said she was very distressed, but you know Diane! She has one face for men, another for women. I'd like to see for myself before I believed anything about her.'

  'It must have been a shock to her!'

  'Oh, at first, no doubt. But she has such a cold mind. Who knows what thoughts occurred to her after the first shock passed?'

  'We mustn't be uncharitable,' Leonie protested. 'One never knows the truth about what happens between two people, particularly husband and wife.'

  'True,' Doris agreed. She laughed gently. 'You're very sweet, you know that? Has Paul been there with all her night?'

  The question was charged with danger. Leonie controlled her voice carefully. 'Yes. We thought he should stay with her.'

  Doris was silent for a moment, then she said," 'Chin up, honey. How about lunch with me today? Carl has a business lunch.'

  'Thank you, but I think I'd better stay here in case Paul needs me.'

  'You know best, honey,' Doris said quietly.

  When she had rung off, Leonie moved into the kitchen and looked at the food available. Salad' would be a simple meal, easily prepared, if Paul' came back.

  If Paul came back...

  Madame Delarge finished her work and departed, and Leonie sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and waiting. The hours dragged past. At one o'clock she reluctantly prepared a very small plate of salad and ate it without enthusiasm.

  Why had Paul not rung her? He must know she would be worried. Was Diane so possessive, so clinging, that he could not leave her even for a moment or two?

  Or had he merely forgotten her own existence?

  At three o'clock someone rang the doorbell, giving her a shock that made her leap up out of her chair, quivering.

  She almost ran to the door. Had Paul forgotten his key? But when she opened the door it was to find Jake leaning against the doorframe, casually dressed in a denim suit with a very elegant navy blue silk shirt showing beneath it.

  She stared at him blankly. 'Oh, it's you.' Disappointment made her voice stark.

  He lifted one thin eyebrow. 'I'm sorry. Who did you think it was?' He glanced past her. 'Paul not here?'

  'Haven't you heard? George has had a heart attack. Paul is at the hospital.'

  Jake's eyes narrowed acutely. 'Comforting the lovely Diane? Of course. He would be.'

  Leonie felt icy cold. 'Is there any message?' she asked.

  Jake put out a hand and lifted her chin, his fingers cool. 'You look like a ghost—do you know that? What you need is a drink. I've got my car outside. Come on...'

  She hung back. 'No. I must wait here in case Paul comes back and needs me.'

  Jake's lip curled. 'Don't be a doormat, darling. It never pays in the end.'

  The tone pricked her pride. She hesitated, then shrugged. 'Oh, very well. But I must leave him a note.'

  Jake followed her back into the flat, watched as she left a note for Paul and waited while she changed into a different dress and renewed her makeup.

  They drove to a small wine bar in a quiet quarter of the city, and sat drinking Provencal wine and eating tiny snippets of various cheeses with fresh, buttery croissant, in a corner of the half empty room.

  Jake talked about Provence, enthused about the langue d'oc, the ancient tongue of the region, long since fallen into disuse, but enshrining some very lovely poetry which was still much admired today. 'I've a house there,' he said. 'Well, a cottage, really, a peasant's cottage with a rose-pink roof and ho sanitation to speak of—one day I'll take you there. You'll love it.' His eyes skimmed her face. 'There aren't many people I would invite to the place. I love it too much to have intruders there. But you would get the feel of the atmosphere, I'm sure of that.'

  'You know nothing about me,' Leonie protested. 'We've only met twice, very briefly.'

  'With some people once is enough,' Jake said simply.

  She looked at him in sharp question. His eyes were direct and honest at this moment, but she felt a prickle of warning. Was Paul right? Was Jake attracted to her? And how far could she trust this very attractive, very experienced man of the world? Her experience of men was not varied enough to make her sure of herself, and her one real love affair had ended so badly that she did not trust her judgment of men.

  Jake saw the doubt in her face and smiled wryly. 'Paul has warned you against my wicked wiles, I gather.'

  'He told me you were something of a Don Juan,' She admitted, smiling.

  'My dear, I'm not in Paul's league,' he commented drily.

  She bit her lip. 'I would rather not discuss my husband,' she told him.

  Jake grinned. 'Fair enough. Tell me about yourself instead. Where were you born, what have you done with yourself all your life?'

  'I was born in England,' she said. 'You know that. I went to school there, I went on to art college and I got a job as a commercial artist...' She talked about her work and Jake listened. He was a good listener. He asked the right questions, seemed very interested. She found herself telling him about her disastrous love affair, and wondered how it had come about. He had a way of winkling facts out of one without one knowing what was going on.

  'You're really very green, aren't you?' he asked her with gentle amusement.

  She flushed but laughed. 'I suppose so.'

  He put out a finger to stroke her cheek. 'It's a delightful innocence, though, as Paul has no doubt told you. The combination is quite irresistible.'

  She drew away from his caress,
frowning. 'Combination? What combination?'

  He stared at her almost hypnotically. 'Why, that innocence combined with the promise of passion in your face .., you have a very sensual mouth, a full lower lip with a deliciously curved upper lip, and your eyes are like those of a wild, shy bird.'

  She laughed. 'Good lord! Is this your famous technique for seduction? I'm afraid it wouldn't work with me. It makes me want to giggle.'

  Something gleamed in his eyes, an answering amusement. 'Does it, indeed? I obviously need a different approach.'

  'Don't bother. I'm not interested.' she met his glance squarely. 'I mean that. I don't want to offend you, Jake, but I don't intend to get involved with you.'

  He ran his eyes over her slowly. 'Now that's a pity, because I find you very attractive.'

  She flushed. 'Thank you, but Still...'

  'Still no?' He grinned. Well, that clears the air, doesn't it? Tell me, is it Paul?'

  Her eyes dropped away, her colour deepening.

  'I see it is,' he said softly. 'Well, well, well! Lucky Paul. I'll drive you back to the flat, shall I?'

  'Thank you.'

  As they drove, he asked her curiously, 'Shall you tell him you've been out with me? What did you say in your note?'

  'Just that I was going out for a drink,' she admitted. Her chin lifted defiantly. 'But I shall tell him it was with you/

  'He won't like it.'

  'No,' she agreed. 'But then...' She bit the words off quickly, but not quickly enough.

  'But then...' Jake glanced at her shrewdly. 'But then you don't like him being with Diane?' he guessed.

  She grimaced. 'Obvious, aren't I?'

  'No, I think you're very wise,' Jake said. 'Jealousy can have a salutary effect.'

  'Jealousy is poison,' she said deeply.

  He glanced at her again. 'Poor girl! That bad? Tell me, was I right in supposing your marriage to be an arranged match?'

  She hesitated. 'What made you think that?'

  Jake grinned. 'Paul hadn't even met you before he went to Comus. Yet he married you almost at once, and since you're his cousin I suspect the idea emanated from old Argon. Keep the money in the family--shrewd business sense.'