by Anne Mather
With a sigh, she poured herself a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice, and carried it into the bathroom. A warm shower cleansed the salt from her hair and her skin. The night before, she had only taken the time to rub her hair almost dry with a towel before tumbling into bed, but now she emerged feeling fresher, and more ready to face the day.
She dressed in a simple halter-necked shift, and secured her still damp hair in a ponytail with a sea-green ribbon, the exact colour of her dress. Eye-shadow did not take long to apply, and her honey-tanned skin required no further adornment. With dark glasses swinging from her hand, she felt remarkably composed as she went downstairs, but this soon dissipated beneath Laura's reproachful stare.
‘Hello, Catherine,’ she greeted her coolly. ‘You must have been tired.'
‘I was.’ Catherine lifted the glasses as if to put them on her nose, and then let them fall again. She would not hide behind smoked lenses. ‘Weren't you?'
Laura shrugged. ‘I don't suppose I worked as hard as you did,’ she remarked, and Catherine was disconcerted.
‘No?'
‘At organising the party.’ Laura's explanation came as a disappointment; Catherine hated verbal fencing with other women. ‘I expect you and Elizabeth helped one another.'
Catherine sighed and sank down into the cushions of a chair nearby. ‘Why don't you say it, Laura?’ she asked impatiently. ‘Why don't you come right out and tell me what you really mean?'
Laura licked her lips, straightened her spine, and held her knees tightly together. ‘I don't know what you mean.'
‘Yes, you do.’ Catherine leaned towards her. ‘Why don't you tell me to lay off Jared? That's why you're here, isn't it?'
‘No!’ Laura was obviously horrified. She got abruptly to her feet, staring at Catherine in dismay. ‘I—I came to see whether you would care to lunch at Fourwinds, that's all. Why should I want to cause a scene?’ She squared her shoulders. ‘If you're worried about dancing with Jared last evening, I think you're exaggerating its significance. Jared dances with lots of other girls, and besides, he explained how Johnny wanted to change partners. I'm not jealous! Don't be silly!'
Catherine rested her head back against the latticed upholstery. She had to accept what Laura was saying. What else could she do? Whatever her feelings, Laura was not about to unburden herself to a virtual stranger.
‘Fourwinds?’ she said now, questioningly.
‘My home.’ Laura linked her fingers together. ‘As Jared isn't here, and Elizabeth is busy, I thought you might enjoy an outing.'
Catherine got reluctantly to her feet and paced over to stare down into the clear waters of the pool. The last thing she wanted was to spend the day in Laura's company, but if she refused and it got back to the servants, it would only give more room for gossip in the kitchen.
‘Where is Jared?’ she inquired, despising herself for doing so.
Laura adjusted the cushions on the lounger where she had been sitting. ‘Down at the beach house, I understand.'
Catherine swung round. ‘Flintlock?'
Laura nodded, straightening. ‘Have you been there?'
‘Once.’ Catherine turned her back again.
‘I don't expect we shall see him for a few days,’ Laura commented, her casual words bringing a tightening to the nerves throughout Catherine's body.
‘No?'
‘No.’ Laura picked up her handbag. ‘Henry told me he loaded the car with his equipment first thing. We all know what that means.'
Catherine turned again. ‘What does it mean?'
‘It means he's finding it impossible to work in the house. After all, he does have this commission to finish for the legislative building.'
There were pockets in Catherine's dress, and she pushed her hands into them. ‘What commission?'
‘A portrait of the governor-general's wife,’ said Laura proudly.
‘But…’ Catherine looked bemused. ‘Has she been here? I haven't seen her.'
‘Oh, no.’ Laura shook her head quite scornfully now. ‘Jared works from sketches mostly. All painters have their own particular style, and Jared finds he works best without human distraction.'
‘Does he?’ Catherine was impressed in spite of herself.
‘Yes. Haven't you noticed that portrait of his mother in the dining room? Jared did that. After she was dead, of course. He was very young when she died.'
Catherine remembered the portrait very well. She had admired it on a number of occasions since she had first noticed it. ‘He's very clever,’ she said rather flatly, and Laura nodded, her expression quite smug.
‘Yes, he is, isn't he?’ Her fingers moulded the wood back of the chair. ‘You've no idea how marvellous it is being engaged to someone like that.’ She held out her left hand, so that Catherine could admire the solitaire diamond on her finger. ‘Jared used to be so—well, I believe he had quite a reputation when he was younger. But since we got together…’ She smiled, but Catherine had turned away, hating herself for the emotions she was experiencing. Laura wasn't deliberately boasting of her achievement. It just sounded that way.
‘Well?’ Laura was speaking again. ‘How about it? Lunch with my parents? You will come, won't you, Catherine? I know they'd love to have you.'
Catherine thought of having lunch alone with Elizabeth and came to a reluctant decision. ‘All right.’ She managed to smile. ‘I'll come. If you're sure that's what you want to do.'
‘Marvellous!’ Laura was so enthusiastic, she made Catherine feel even worse. ‘Let's go, then, shall we? You can leave a message for Elizabeth with one of the servants. I'm sure she won't mind.'
Catherine didn't care for being hurried, but she had accepted Laura's invitation now, and there was nothing she could do to change that, even if she had wanted to. Susie was dusting the stairs when she went into the hall, and she left word with her that she and Miss Prentiss were lunching out. At least that way she could be sure that the news would reach every member of the household, she thought dryly.
Fourwinds was a sprawling, split-level dwelling, built on an incline above a small lake. Long windows stood wide to the scents from the gardens that were terraced down to the lakeside, where a dinghy with an outboard motor rocked against a stone jetty. Behind the house were canefields, and as they drove up the narrow drive, overhung with shrubs and palms and thickly flowering thorn bushes, Laura explained that although her father had retired now, he employed an estates manager to run the small plantation for him. Catherine could see a windmill in the middle of the grey-plumed stalks, its sails turning slowly in the breeze, no doubt pumping water from the lake into the fields. Two dark-skinned Bajuns were at work in the gardens, but they stopped and leaned on their spades as the two girls drove by. The whole atmosphere was one of unhurried indolence.
Mr Prentiss was sitting on the verandah at the front of the house, which overlooked the terraced gardens and the blue-shadowed waters of the lake beyond. He looked up as Laura brought her sports car to a halt at the side of the building, and came to meet them as they walked up the slope towards him. He was a man in his late fifties, Catherine supposed, and although she had met him twice before, she had not held a conversation with him. Of medium height and slightly built, greying hair and sun-lined features, he was a quiet man, usually content to allow his wife and daughter to speak for him.
But now he held out his hand to Catherine and his smile was warm and genuine. ‘Welcome to Fourwinds,’ he said, admiring the picture she made in her green dress, her hair dry now and escaping in honey-gold strands from the ribbon. ‘Come and have a cool drink before lunch.'
‘Thank you.’ Catherine found it easy to smile now. ‘What an attractive view you have!'
Mr Prentiss exchanged a look of acknowledgement with his daughter. ‘Yes, we do. As we can't see the sea from our windows, we have the next best thing.'
‘Do you swim in the lake?'
Laura laughed. ‘Well, Daddy doesn't. But I do—sometimes.'
‘That's
as close to the water as I get these days,’ said her father, indicating the dinghy. ‘Do you sail, Catherine?'
‘I've never tried, I'm afraid. It wasn't one of my father's passions, and I guess I've never got round to it.'
They mounted the steps to the verandah, and as they did so, Laura's mother came through the french doors to join them. She was a plumper edition of Laura, her dark hair showing few grey strands, although her skin belied her real age. She greeted Catherine with only slightly less warmth than her husband, and they all made themselves comfortable in the cushioned rattan chairs. Catherine had her first taste of iced punch, a mixture of lime juice and sugar, with just a dash of angostura, liberally laced with rum. It was delicious, and she felt herself relaxing and occasionally joining in the undemanding conversation. Mrs Prentiss's penchant for talking made everybody else's contribution less important, and it was pleasant just to drowse there in the sun, watching the bees among the flowers, hearing the gentle lap of water against the reeds bordering the lake.
Lunch was served in a white-walled dining room, with an enormous fan stirring the air above their heads. Shellfish salad, and a fruit mousse, were exactly what one needed on such a hot day, and afterwards, Mrs Prentiss suggested that Catherine might like to look over the house.
Catherine would have preferred to return to the shade of the verandah. The punch had been stronger than she had imagined, and that, combined with the wine she had consumed during lunch, had served to make her feel pleasantly lethargic. But Laura and her mother shared the same eager enthusiasm which made it difficult to refuse. She had expected Laura would accompany them, but she went to join her father leaving Catherine to Mrs Prentiss's mercies.
Fourwinds was more modern than Amaryllis, the furnishings similar to what Catherine had been used to in London. She tried to show a genuine interest in what her hostess was saying, but looking round other people's houses had never been a fetish with her. Nevertheless, it soon became apparent that showing Catherine the house had had secondary motivations. Before long, Mrs Prentiss brought the conversation round to the Royals, and waiting for the denunciation which she was sure was to come, Catherine was startled when Laura's mother began to speak about Elizabeth.
‘How do you—er—get on with Jared's stepmother?’ she asked, casually.
Catherine shrugged. How to answer that? ‘I—we don't see a lot of one another,’ she replied evasively. ‘You know she spends a lot of time down at the stables, I suppose?'
‘Yes.’ Mrs Prentiss opened the door into a low, light lounge. ‘This is our sitting room,’ she said, rather absently, then: ‘Has she discussed with you what she's going to do when Laura and Jared get married?'
‘No.’ Catherine ran her fingers over the smooth hide of a low couch. ‘I love this tan-coloured leather—'
‘Did you realise there was gossip about her and Jared just after his father died?'
Catherine half turned away, faint colour invading her cheeks. ‘People always gossip,’ she answered lightly.
‘I know. And I don't honestly believe there was anything in it,’ Mrs Prentiss hastened on. ‘Not on Jared's side, at least. But—well, Elizabeth Royal was always aware of her stepson. Anyone could see that. Some said she only took the old man when it became obvious she was getting nowhere with the son. And when James died—'
‘Really, Mrs Prentiss, I don't see what this has to do with me.’ Catherine's nails dug into the soft leather. ‘Surely if you have any doubts about Jared's relationship with his stepmother, you should take them up with him.'
Mrs Prentiss sniffed. ‘As if I could do that!’ she exclaimed resentfully. ‘Don't you know, Jared won't have a word said against the woman? But he and Laura have been engaged for almost two years. It's time they were thinking of getting married. But so far as I know, no definite arrangements have even been discussed!'
Catherine felt an unpleasant stirring of emotion inside her. ‘It's really nothing to do with me, Mrs Prentiss,’ she repeated faintly, wondering what the woman would say if she knew how she was feeling right at this moment, remembering that less than twelve hours ago she had been in Jared's arms…
‘But you live in the house, Catherine,’ Laura's mother was persisting. ‘And Laura told us how you spoke up to Jared in her defence last week. Oh'—she shook her head,—‘she didn't describe it to me in quite those terms. She's a fool where he's concerned. But I realised what you were trying to do for her.'
‘Mrs Prentiss—'
‘No. Let me finish.’ The older woman held up her hand. ‘I hoped I might persuade you to—speak to Elizabeth. Casually, you understand. Sort of—sound her out about—well, about the situation.'
‘Oh, but I—'
‘Laura won't push herself, you see,’ exclaimed Mrs Prentiss, pressing her balled fists together. ‘She won't ask questions. She's quite content to sit back and let the Royals walk all over her. Well, I won't let her. Someone has to do something. This engagement could drag on indefinitely.'
Catherine took a deep breath. It crossed her mind, rather uncharitably perhaps, that by attempting to enlist her aid, Mrs Prentiss was hoping to dispose of any threat she might present. But whatever her motives, there was nothing she could do.
‘Why don't you speak to Elizabeth?’ Catherine asked now, wishing either Laura or her father would appear to interrupt them. ‘Surely you could mention it to her.'
Mrs Prentiss's nostrils flared angrily. ‘Do you think I haven't? Elizabeth Royal is a past mistress in the art of sophistry! There's always something in the way of a direct answer—something she's arranged, some bloodstock sale she has to attend, some commission Jared has to finish…'
‘Well,’ Catherine snatched at a passing straw, ‘as a matter of fact, Jared's working on a commission right now.'
‘The portrait for the Legislature, yes, I know.’ Mrs Prentiss made an impatient gesture. ‘But that must surely be almost completed.'
‘I understand he left this morning—'
‘Left?'
‘For the beach house.’ Catherine shifted uncomfortably. ‘Laura told me, actually.'
‘He's left for the beach house? To finish this commission, one supposes?'
‘I believe so.'
Mrs Prentiss sighed angrily. ‘Isn't that just like a man? Running away from his responsibilities?'
Catherine cleared her throat. ‘His—responsibilities?’ she echoed.
‘Of course.’ The older woman stared at her. ‘You, Catherine, you! He invites you here, into his home, and then abandons you.'
‘I'm not a child, Mrs Prentiss.'
‘I know that. Even so, he knows—at least, he must know—how much Laura wants to get married, and yet he persists in behaving in this irresponsible fashion! I suppose it's the artistic temperament. I suppose we must make some allowances for that. But I do think he takes a shameful advantage of Laura. She's a lovely girl. There are several young men who would envy him his good fortune in being her fiancé. But what does he do? He treats her with no respect whatsoever!'
Catherine made an effort to escape. ‘I—don't you think we ought to be joining the others?’ she suggested hopefully, but Laura's mother wasn't quite finished.
‘If Jared is away,’ she was musing slowly, ‘what a wonderful opportunity you'll have for talking to Elizabeth.'
‘But—'
Mrs Prentiss made a soothing gesture. ‘Please. I'm not asking you to be indiscreet. Just to—well, discuss the wedding. A casual word here and there. You could learn so much.'
‘I doubt it.'
‘Oh, I knew I could rely on you!'
Mrs Prentiss took her dry comment as acceptance, and before Catherine had time to protest, she had turned and crossed the hall, calling for one of the servants to bring afternoon tea to them on the verandah. It was deliberately done, Catherine knew that, but she could say nothing. And besides, what had Laura's mother gained after all? She could not be compelled to relay her conversations with Elizabeth back to the Prentisses…could she?
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Driving Catherine back to Amaryllis, Laura was much more relaxed. ‘You and Mummy get on incredibly well, don't you?’ she enthused, giving her companion a sidelong glance. ‘I'm so glad. She doesn't always like my friends.'
Catherine let this go without comment. She was feeling raw and vulnerable, and out of sorts with herself. What was it about these people that made her feel so sensitive? Why did they persist in involving her in their schemes? She and Laura were not really friends at all. They were acquaintances, that was all. And she did not get on well with Laura's mother. On the contrary, she felt a strong aversion towards her. All she was, was a stranger, a guest in the Royal house, not even a distant relative. She knew nothing about them or their plans, and she didn't want to know. If Mrs Prentiss wanted her daughter married, she should say so to the only person who could do anything about it. Jared! And why didn't he marry her, anyway? If they had been engaged so long, what were they waiting for? Money was no obstacle, on either side. The Royal house was big enough to accommodate half a dozen families. So why the delay? Was Elizabeth the obstruction? Or was Jared reluctant to make the final commitment? Oh, God! Catherine could feel tears smarting behind her eyes. It was nothing to do with her. Why couldn't they accept that? Why couldn't she accept it?
Laura refused her invitation to come in when they arrived back at Amaryllis. ‘I'd better get home,’ she said, slipping the car into bottom gear. ‘Thanks all the same. I'll probably see you tomorrow. We might go to Sam Lord's Castle. Would you like that? We could have lunch there. I'm sure you'd like to see it.'