Nicola ran water into the bath, added some of the lavender-scented gel she found there and soaked luxuriously with leisure to think at last.
What an appalling coincidence to find herself living in the same house as that devastatingly attractive, but autocratic and shockingly quick-tempered man with whose flowers so unfortunate a mistake had been made. She wondered what he would do, whether he would send her packing, and then considered whether she wanted to go.
What ought she to do, she asked herself. Ought she to apologise to him for losing her temper in the shop, or should she demand an apology from him for his earlier outrageous behaviour. He had not referred to their previous meeting even after Sarah had left them, but neither had he seemed at all embarrassed or apologetic. Perhaps if they had to live in the same house for a couple of months it would be sensible to pretend it had never happened, difficult though that would be.
As she towelled herself dry and used lavishly the lavender talc which was in the bathroom Nicola was wondering which of the clothes she had brought with her would be best to wear. She did not expect her cases to be delivered before the weekend and had brought with her a new long-sleeved blue and grey pleated dress in a soft thin material which could be worn for an informal evening or smart daytime occasion.
Alternatively there was one of her older long black skirts and a white lacy top. After agonising for some time over which would be most appropriate she decided that the safest thing would be to ask Sarah. She had heard the sound of tuneless singing from the bathroom next to hers, and when it stopped she slipped on her old towelling robe and went to knock on Sarah's door.
'Come in,' Sarah called, and Nicola opened the door and went through.
This room was a twin to her own, but decorated in yellow and white with vivid touches of orange. The bed, like the rest of the furniture, was painted white, but it was a delicate four poster with billowing filmy drapes gathered in golden cords.
'What lovely rooms they are,' she exclaimed. 'Who designed the colour schemes?'
'Oh, I chose this a couple of years ago. I was going through a romantic phase. Mother did the rest of the house. But you should see Robert's, I'll show you one day when he's out. It's all dramatic red leather and coffee and cream. I think I'd like something similar next time. Mother's is all blue and mauve and purple, with grey furniture like yours.'
'It's all lovely. But I wanted to ask what I ought to wear tonight. Does your mother wear long dresses?'
'Only if we've guests, and I don't think there's anyone tonight. What have you got? You couldn't have brought much in that small case.'
'I've got one ordinary long black skirt and a white lace blouse, or a short, silky dress, flowered, but with long sleeves and a frilly collar.'
'Wear that, it sounds nice. I'm going to wear this.'
She opened the door of a fitted wardrobe and pulled out a simple but very expensive red dress with a tightly fitting bodice, scooped neckline, and full skirts. Nicola nodded her thanks and suddenly noticed the time on a small clock on Sarah's dressing table.
'I must hurry. Thanks.'
She backed out of the doorway and as she turned round Robert Wilmington spoke just behind her. She jumped nervously.
'Miss Browne, I do hope Sarah is looking after you properly? Can she answer your questions in French at all?'
*
Nicola blushed to the roots of her hair, clutching her suddenly somehow inadequate and ancient robe about her. She had not made any attempt yet to converse with Sarah in French and felt both guilty and resentful of the detestable man for recalling her to her duties.
'I do not think a rest for the first day of the holidays will do much harm, Mr Wilmington,' she replied stiffly. 'We will naturally talk in French all day tomorrow!'
'Oh, I hope not,' he said with a laugh, and in the rather subdued light of this inside hallway, Nicola could not tell whether he was amused or sarcastic. 'We have guests, you see, and I doubt if any of them would understand an expert such as yourself,' he explained.
Nicola just prevented herself from answering hotly that she would not dream of being so impolite in front of guests and turned away, wondering why he seemed to delight in putting her in the wrong when he was the one who had behaved so atrociously. Never before had she met anyone who ruffled her so quickly and so frequently.
'Thank you for warning me!' she said curtly. 'Will you excuse me, I do not wish to be late for dinner.'
'We have drinks on the terrace,' he said abruptly and went past her and through to his own room. Nicola caught a glimpse of a pale cream-coloured carpet and dark brown walls with an arresting painting in white and silver before the door closed behind him.
She went back into her own room and shut the door. She did her face and hair, finding her rather short, curly brown hair especially unruly tonight. She spent longer than usual applying eyeshadow, mascara and a touch of pale pink lipstick, and then pulled on her dress and stared appraisingly at her reflection.
She saw a slim pretty girl of medium height, with light brown curls and a heart-shaped face. Nicola had never thought herself to possess more than average looks, but she did have a trim figure with long shapely legs. She studied her reflection critically. The dress was pretty and safe, unremarkable and therefore suitable for a variety of occasions, but she despaired of her hair. It was boringly nondescript, she decided, especially when it bleached in the sun, and the curls, which the sea air had made springier than ever, made her look about fifteen. Her mouth was too large and her nose too short. Her eyes, large and a deep blue, were her best feature but her eyebrows were too thick and she had not bothered to pluck them recently.
She shrugged. So long as she looked tidy and presentable what did these faults matter? She was not in any way wishing to impress anyone and particularly not Robert Wilmington. He must have dozens of beautiful women at his beck and call, for he was rich and handsome. Sarah said he had many girlfriends, and that was most likely what made him so insufferably arrogant.
She found high-heeled strappy sandals to wear, fastened some jet earrings, then added a generous dab of Cabochard to give herself courage. Taking a deep breath she went out and up the stairs. The door into the drawing room was open, and past it three pairs of open patio doors showed her the terrace where they had had tea. As she hesitated, Sarah in her red dress and matching red shoes came through one of the doors and saw her.
'Oh, Nicola, I was just coming for you. Come and meet Mother.'
'We have met, Sarah, remember? Welcome, Miss Browne. I'm so pleased you had a good journey,' Mrs Frayn said, appearing in the window beside her daughter, wearing a simple but elegant grey dress. 'Come and have a drink. We decided to sit out here while it was so warm.'
She led Nicola out onto the terrace and Robert, who had been standing beside one of the tables, turned round towards her and gave Nicola an odd, lopsided smile. He wore an immaculate dinner jacket with silk lapels, narrow trousers, and a pintucked shirt, with a dark red velvet bow tie.
'Miss Browne, come and meet Mrs Jane Prendergast. Miss Browne is going to try and improve Sarah's French,' he added, turning to the woman beside him.
*
Prendergast! The woman who had received the roses! The old friend, he had said, Nicola thought in a flurry of panic, and took her first glance at the woman who stood there, eyeing her appraisingly as she took a glass from Robert.
Old, Nicola thought in sudden angry confusion. How had he dared so to describe this woman? He must have meant long-standing, she realised. Jane Prendergast was only a few years older than Nicola herself, but one of the most beautiful, sophisticated women Nicola had ever seen outside the covers of glossy magazines. Tall and slender, she had a perfect figure set off by a superbly cut black silk dress, sleeveless and with a discreet but none the less plunging neckline. An emerald and diamond necklace glittered round her long white neck and a matching bracelet was clasped round one wrist. Her face was classically beautiful, expertly made up, and her green eyes slan
ted in a slightly oriental manner under sleekly shaped brows. Her hair, smooth and golden, was piled up on top of her head in an intricate style, and emerald earrings matched the green of her eyes.
'You speak good French?' Mrs Prendergast said in a low, slightly husky voice. 'How madly intelligent of you! I can just about make a waiter or a chambermaid understand what I want. Thank God most of them speak English. Robert, darling, can I have a teeny drop more tonic? I don't want to get tight in front of an intellectual, it would be too shaming.'
She smiled at Nicola as she spoke, but then turned her smile towards Robert and it deepened, becoming more intimate, and she moved closer to him as she handed back her glass. He topped it up with tonic water and then asked Nicola what she wanted.
'A sherry, please, dry,' Nicola answered, feeling suddenly gauche and young in her dress, which she now realised was far too fussy and childish, and the simple jet earrings which could not have cost a hundredth the price of the emeralds Jane Prendergast was wearing. An old family friend indeed, she thought wrathfully.
From the way she was looking up into his eyes they had spent any number of weekends together, and surely neither of them could have been embarrassed or insulted by the message Sharon had accidentally sent.
She answered Mrs Frayn's questions at random, and flushed angrily when she caught Robert looking at her with an amused expression on his face. How dared he laugh at her! She was relieved when Mrs Trotter came to say that dinner was ready, and Mrs Frayn led the way through the drawing room into the severe but attractive black and white dining room.
*
Chapter 3
Robert seemed aloof and preoccupied, responding coolly to Jane Prendergast's conversation.
Sitting opposite her Nicola could reluctantly admire the perfection of her features, her high cheekbones and delicate pink and white complexion. A faint scent of jasmine which Nicola enviously recognised as the vastly expensive Joy perfume by Patou, wafted across the table, and a huge diamond ring glittered as she gestured with long, slender hands.
Mrs Frayn was questioning Sarah about her last term at school, and Jane Prendergast talked almost exclusively of people she had met during a recent visit to Miami. Occasionally, with a soft apologetic smile towards Robert, she would deliberately change the subject and address innocuous questions at Nicola, listening with an intent gaze to the replies, then turning back to Robert, her air that of someone having performed a tedious duty with admirable patience.
By the end of the first course, chilled melon, Nicola was seething with suppressed indignation. The woman was so subtly condescending, yet doing it so cleverly there was nothing that could reasonably be objected to. While Robert carved the succulent leg of lamb, Jane turned to Sarah and asked whether she planned to ride much this summer.
'Will you enter any of the local shows?' she asked with an air of great interest.
For some reason Sarah blushed to the roots of her hair and uttered a curt 'No!' which drew an admonishing look from her mother, who had been talking in a low voice to Mrs Trotter as she brought in dishes of new potatoes, peas and buttered courgettes.
'There's a new girl been sweeping all the jumping prizes at the smaller gymkhanas this year,' Jane remarked. 'I think Robert would like to see how she manages with one of his top jumpers, wouldn't you?' she continued, turning towards him. 'She hasn't ridden anything of that class yet.'
'Robert won't let me jump any of his horses,' Sarah said in annoyance. 'Who is she?'
'Amanda Ross-White. She's only recently come down here. She's the new assistant to Tony Scott. I did hear rumours he'd gone into partnership with someone. Certainly he has made some alterations, and we all know he hasn't any money of his own. Pretty girl, too.'
'Will you ride yourself?' Robert asked, rather quickly, but Sarah had thrown down her napkin and was speaking at the same time.
'That's a lie! Tony does not need a partner, his riding school is doing well!'
'Sarah!'
'How dare you! You will apologise to Jane immediately!'
Robert and Mrs Frayn spoke simultaneously and Sarah, cheeks flushed, stared from one to the other.
'Why should I? She meant to be horrid. She is beastly about my losing the cup last year because I fell off, then she insinuates hateful things about Tony.'
'Go straight to your room, Sarah, if you choose to behave in this – childish manner,' Robert thundered, and even Sarah stepped back involuntarily when he rose to his feet.
'Oh, Robert, darling, I didn't mean to annoy poor Sarah,' Jane exclaimed. 'It was thoughtless of me. You could not help falling off, after all, the horse was too spirited for you. As for Mr Scott, I really did not imagine such a stupid business still meant anything to you, Sarah dear.'
'You did! You said it deliberately!' Sarah stormed at her.
'I swear it was not intended, but I do apologise for upsetting you. Robert, Mrs Frayn, please let's forget all about it. Sit down, Sarah, we won't mention it again.'
'I'm not accepting any of your gracious favours!' Sarah flung at her. 'All right, I'm going,' she added as Robert took a step towards her, and ran swiftly out of the room, catching her breath on a sob as she went.
*
'Shall I go and see to her?' Nicola asked as Robert resumed his place at the table.
'No, my dear. Sarah is prone to these tantrums, I am afraid,' Mrs Frayn said wearily. 'I'm sorry, Jane, that she should have been so rude to you.'
'Oh, please, I do feel it was all my fault. Is she still cherishing some romantic attachment to Tony Scott? I thought that nonsense all blew over at Easter?'
'I made certain they did not meet, which may have been the wrong tactics,' Robert said, glowering. 'I just do not trust the fellow. There was that business of Monica Russell. She was always at his place and then when everyone expected them to announce their engagement she suddenly left. We heard afterwards her father had lost a great deal of money in some wildcat scheme. What would a man like that want with a schoolgirl except her money?'
'Well, after these holidays she'll be in Switzerland and there she will meet far more men, and maybe realise her obsession with Mr Scott is just a silly infatuation,' Mrs Frayn said, but with little conviction in her voice. 'I think I had best take her to London soon and turn her mind onto other things by getting her lots of clothes. I do like your dress, Jane. Where did you get it?'
The talk passed to other things, but as Jane was pouring some cream over her strawberries Nicola suddenly thought she looked rather like a satisfied cat with her slanting green eyes. There was a decided air of complacency about her, and when they went through the connecting doors for coffee in the drawing room Jane kicked off her elegant shoes and curled up in one of the deep comfortable leather armchairs, sleek and sinuous and feline.
When she had drunk the cup of delicious coffee Nicola excused herself and Jane, who had been explaining some complicated story about a much divorced friend of hers, smiled a vague farewell.
'Is there anything you need, my dear?' Mrs Frayn asked, and Nicola shook her head.
'I've never been so pampered in all my life,' she said quietly as she passed the older woman. 'I hope I can be of real use to Sarah.'
'I suggest you leave her to herself tonight. She comes out of her moods quickest if left alone,' Robert said curtly as he walked across the room to hold the door open for her.
Nicola looked up at his frowning face. He had no heart, she thought indignantly. Could he not tell the difference between his sister's childish sulks that afternoon and real distress? Sarah was obviously deeply hurt, and he had no imagination if he could not envisage her weeping herself to sleep in her pretty but comfortless bedroom.
She nodded briefly and went out of the room, hearing a trill of laughter from Jane before the door closed.
'How sweet the little governess – ' Jane said before the heavy door cut off the rest of her words.
Nicola fumed. The woman had deliberately engineered the scene at dinner and was, Nicola
was sure, gloating over the success of it. Why Jane Prendergast should wish to upset Sarah she had no idea, but Sarah was not going to be left alone in her misery if she, Nicola, had anything to do with it. Although Nicola had been popular with the male students at her university, she had taken all her friendships with men lightly, never favouring one above the others. Many of her girl friends, however, had wept over their love affairs, and often Nicola had acted as confidante, listening and condoling with them over the faithlessness or heartlessness of men.
*
She tapped lightly on Sarah's door, therefore, and when there was no reply other than a muffled sob opened the door and went in.
'It's me, Nicola,' she said into the darkness.
'What do you want? I'll not apologise, she did it deliberately,' Sarah said and blew her nose fiercely.
'Would you like to talk to me? I promise I won't let it go any further.'
Sarah switched on the small lamp beside her bed. She had flung herself down without undressing, and her face was smudged with streaks of mascara and blue eyeshadow.
'Why does she have to persecute me so?' Sarah demanded. 'I've never harmed her. It's not even as if Robert would listen to me if I said I didn't think he should marry her.'
'Is he going to marry her?' Nicola asked, and her heart gave a sudden unexpected lurch.
'She thinks so but I doubt it. Robert hasn't been seriously interested in a girl for years despite his dozens of girl friends. Sometimes I think it would make him less anxious to boss me about, but if he married Jane she would encourage him to interfere more. Just look at how she was tonight. I wish she'd leave him alone. Who do you think this girl is that she mentioned?' she asked after a pause. 'Tony doesn't need a partner.'
Nicola looked down at her bent head sympathetically. She could have hit Jane Prendergast at that moment for having so callously hurt Sarah.
'How can I guess? Probably some assistant. Aren't there lots of girls working in riding schools? Didn't he have anyone before? I expect, as you say, she was deliberately trying to needle you. It would serve her right if you refused her the satisfaction of seeing you cared, another time.'
Fires in the Forest Page 3