“I’ve been appointed personal secretary to the duke,” Phillip said quietly. “The announcement will be made next week.”
She started and her hand jerked, sloshing the champagne over the table. She continued to fill her glass, letting the wine spill over the top. “Congratulations,” she said. She sat back on her heels and took a swig of champagne. Her hand was trembling. “How nice for you.” She hadn’t meant it to sound so harsh and dry but she couldn’t help herself. The fact that he hadn’t told her was like a physical blow. She willed herself to stay together.
“I’m sorry, I should have told you,” Phillip couldn’t bear to see the pain on her face and he hung his head. “Suzy, look, I don’t know how to tell you this but I want you to try and understand it for what it is.” He raised his head slightly and saw that she was staring at him, her face seemed almost paralyzed in its expression. “It’s something that sounds awful but it isn’t, it’s our way out, our chance.” He stopped a third time, the dryness in his throat now painful. “Suzy, I’m getting married,” he said quickly. “I need a wife for my appointment to the duke and I’ve found someone who’s prepared to take me and the job on.” He paused momentarily, then rushed on, frightened to stop talking. “I know it sounds bizarre, I know it sounds as if I’m deserting you, as if it’s over between us, but it isn’t! It’s just the beginning, Suzy! You must understand that, it’s the freedom we need, Suzy, the perfect alibi: me, married, a family man! Who’d ever expect…” He broke off, waiting for her response, bracing himself for the torrent of emotion. He looked up and saw that she was still, completely motionless. Then silently she stood up, gripping the edge of the sofa to steady herself and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle of vodka, almost letting it drop because her hands felt so numb, and she unscrewed the top, slugging a great mouthful down from the bottle. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and held onto the sideboard for support.
“Suzanna?” Phillip stood in the doorway. He moved toward her. “Suzy, please?”
“Don’t you come near me!” she screamed, suddenly swinging around and lashing out, the bottle in her hand. Phillip leaped back. “Don’t you dare come near me!” Her face crumpled and she started to sob.
“Suzy, please don’t cry, please don’t…”
“Don’t cry!” She wiped her face on the back of her hand. “Don’t cry? Don’t say a word because I’ve got it all so neatly worked out and I don’t want you to make a fuss!” She snorted derisively then dropped her head into her hands. “Oh God, Phillip, how could you?” The pain in her voice cut him like a razor and he moved toward her again. He went to put his arms around her but she shoved him angrily away, knocking him back.
“Do you really expect me to believe all this crap? Do you?” She shook her finger at him, jabbing the space between them. “Because I don’t! I don’t believe a fucking word of it, Phillip! A way out, a chance? For us? Bullshit! A way out for you! Yeah, sure!” She spat the words at him, making him wince at the force of her anger. “And you know what really hurts?” She picked up the bottle of vodka from the side and stabbed the air with it. “It’s the fact that you couldn’t come in here and tell me straight, you had to have your fuck, didn’t you, Phillip? You had to have your last fill of me.” She pushed past him, smacking her side on the door frame. “God, you make me sick!” she screamed from the sitting-room. “You make me sick! D’you hear me? Sick!” She smacked the bottle of vodka down against the edge of the sofa table and suddenly it smashed, the glass shattering everywhere.
“Ahh! My God!” Her hands flew up to her face and Phillip realized in an instant that she’d been hit. Blood spurted out through her fingers and splattered over the white carpet.
“Suzanna!” He ran forward and grabbed her hands, tearing them away from her face. It was covered in blood and his heart flipped. “Come here! Jesus, Suzy!” She was hysterical, he had to calm her down. “Look, it’s all right, Suzanna, it’s all right. Come here, darling, come on!” He led her screaming into the kitchen and wrenched the cold tap on, all the time fear pounding so hard in his body that his hands were shaking.
“Breathe, Suzy, breathe!” She was hyperventilating and the blood was pouring from her face. His shirt was covered in it. “Breathe deeply, come on!” He drenched a towel in cold water and pressed it up to her cheek. “Come on, Suzy, it’s all right, it’s all right.” He kept saying this over and over as he rinsed the towel time after time and reapplied it. “It’s all right, my darling, I’m here, I won’t leave you, I promise…”
The flow of blood started to ease. Suzanna was calmer, the hiccuping of her sobs quieter, less frequent. She held one of his hands so tight that it was white but she kept her face still as Phillip looked at it and examined the cut. She would need stitches, it was a cut to the right of her eye but the bleeding had been deceptive; it wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. Pressing the towel to her face for the last time, Phillip led her out of the kitchen and into the sitting-room. He sat, helping her down beside him.
“You OK?”
She managed to nod. He still held her hand and he put it up to his mouth, kissing the bloodless knuckles. “Christ, you scared me,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to…” He stopped as a warm drop of water fell on to his hand. “Oh Suzy, please, please don’t cry.”
“But you love me,” she whispered, “I know you do.”
“Yes, yes I love you,” he said, “I always have, from the first time I met you, remember? At Cowdray Park? You were with Mitchell, newly married and you looked so unhappy, so beautiful and unhappy and it made my heart ache just looking at you.”
Suzy sniffed and Phillip took his handkerchief from his pocket, carefully drying her eyes. “I will always love you, Suzy. You need me, I won’t ever leave you.”
“But you have… You…”
“No, I haven’t left you!” He turned her face gently toward him. “I promised you weeks ago that I would find a way out for us and I have. I’m not marrying someone I love, how could I do that? I love you! I am marrying Jane Bennet, a nice girl, twenty-seven, sensible and a friend. She isn’t and never will be you. Please, Suzy, please understand that.” He took a breath, his own heart beginning to slow at last. “My appointment to the duke’s permanent staff is a huge achievement, Suzy, it’s what I’ve always wanted. I’ll be based in London, Jane will be in the country, and we can be together. What can Mitchell say? What can anyone say?” Phillip leaned toward her and kissed her. “Oh God, Suzy, trust me, please, just trust me.”
Suzanna hung her head. How could she doubt him? How could she even begin to live without him? Her life was a mess, she was married to a violent homosexual, a bitter mistake, done for the money, and the only happiness she had ever known was with Phillip. She had to trust him, she had nothing else left.
“My eye,” she said. “Do I need stitches?”
“Yes, I’ll have to ring someone, you’ll have to get to the hospital.”
“No! Phillip, please don’t leave me! Take me to the hospital, you have to, I can’t go on my own!” She started to cry again and Phillip rubbed his hands wearily over his face. He was running out of time and he was tired, exhausted from the emotional strain. “Can I phone Poppy?”
Suzy was silent.
“I can’t take you to casualty, Suzy. What about Mitchell? It might even make the papers. Be sensible please.”
“Like Jane?”
Phillip bit back an angry retort. “Let me call Poppy. Hmmm?” He said patiently. “She’ll take you, she can handle the press if there’s anyone there.” Phillip stood. “Poppy will look after you.”
“Yes, all right, Phillip.” Suzy sat back, resting her head against the sofa. She was drained of energy and she needed a drink. “Phone Poppy then, her number’s in my book.”
Phillip went to Suzy’s bag and took out her book, then he crossed to the phone, glancing quickly at his watch as he did so; it was six-thirty. If Poppy could get here in half an hour a
nd he could ring Jane from the box on the corner of Oxford Street then he might just be all right. If not, then God knows what he was going to say. He dialled Suzy’s best friend and waited for the line to connect. It wasn’t even as if he could go straight there, he thought, looking briefly down at his shirt; with this amount of blood he would have to bathe and change first. He heard Poppy’s voice and concentrated on the present, not the future. “Hello, Poppy? It’s Phillip Mills. I’m round at Suzy’s flat. We’ve had a bit of an accident. Can you come over and help?” He listened to her reply and tried to keep the relief from his voice. “Oh great, thanks a lot, Poppy. Yes, I’ll wait for you.” He put his thumb up to Suzy but she hardly registered his gesture. “Yes, see you in half an hour then.” He smiled as he hung up.
“Poppy’s coming round,” he said, walking back to Suzy. “She’ll be here in a while.” But Suzanna didn’t hear what he said. She had passed out.
Jane was in the bedroom when Clare called her from the sitting-room; she was finishing dressing. She went straight to the phone, a small frown of worry on her face, and said: “Hello, are you all right, Phillip?” Then she smiled.
“No, of course not, I’m sure they won’t mind!” She wrapped the telephone wire around her fingers. “I’ll ring them now and explain.” She paused. “Honestly, it’s fine! Now don’t worry at all, Phillip, just get here when you can… and don’t kill yourself in the rush! Yes, all right, see you then. Bye.” She hung up. “Phillip’s been held up,” she said, looking around for her bag. “Poor dear, something at the palace. I’ll just ring the Lythes and tell them we’ll be late.” And, totally unfussed, she found it, took out her book and dialled her parents’ friends.
12
IT WAS A GLORIOUS SPRING DAY, WARM, WITH THE LIGHTEST south-westerly breeze that came in off the Sussex coast and cooled the edges. The ancient wisteria that framed the back of the house rustled with the wind, its heavy lavender blooms drooping and scattering their tiny petals over the grass. The marquee stood in the center of the second lawn, behind the box hedge, its high tented roof visible only over the top, a trail of white ribbons on sticks, white balloons and rich green ivy led down to it.
Jane sat in her room, her things packed for the trip to India, a mass of cases and bags, her suit hanging neatly on a padded hanger in front of the wardrobe and half her hair in curlers. She listened to the hairdresser’s prattle as she unclipped and unraveled without taking any of it in and watched Clare put the final touches to her own silk-suited appearance. She wasn’t nervous or excited even, she was simply longing for it all to be over, for a deep hot bath at the hotel tonight, and a tumbler full of single malt.
“Gosh!” Clare turned away from her own reflection in the dressing-table mirror and stared at Jane. “That does look, erm…” She stopped and coughed. “It looks really something, Janey.”
Jane narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t see herself but she’d had her doubts when the curlers began to come out. “What does something mean?”
Clare shrugged and glanced away. Jane immediately stood up and marched across to the mirror. “Oh no!” She pulled at a tightly curled strand of hair and it bounced right back into position. “Oh dear Lord!” The whole effect was frightful. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said, turning toward the hairdresser, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to wash this out.”
“Oh, Janey, no!” Clare darted around her, patting bits of her hair into place. “There isn’t time! You have to be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Don’t worry, I will be!” Jane started for the door. “I should never have listened to you and Mummy,” she said, taking the towel off her shoulders and chucking it on to the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute.” And she left the room with Clare and the hairdresser speechless behind her.
John Bennet slammed the door of the car and smiled at Caroline and Clare inside. He tapped the roof and the driver swung the old Jaguar around, its wheels crunching on the gravel drive. He tipped his cap and the car drove off. What a different affair this was from Clare and Teddy’s wedding, he thought, nodding to one of the caterers carrying a case of champagne around to the marquee, an altogether much quieter and understated nuptial.
He walked into the house, dark after the bright sunshine outside, and wandered through to the sitting-room, decked with May blossom and early, huge, white, old-fashioned roses, their scents mixed with the smell of beeswax polish and potpourri. He sat on the edge of the sofa and looked at the photograph of Jane on the piano, Jane as a young girl, always his favorite and so like him that he could honestly say it never bothered him not having a son. He wondered if he should give her a shout; she was late and probably up there reading, or doing a quick sketch of the marquee from her bedroom window. He smiled to himself and slowly got to his feet.
“Jane!” As he turned he saw her, and he stood looking at her for a few moments, one hand resting against the doorframe, her tall slim figure neat in the pale cream silk suit and matching shoes, her hair tied back off her face in its usual loose ponytail and the only adornment her bouquet, a bunch she had tied herself from the garden.
“You look beautiful, Janey,” he said.
She smiled. “Thank you.” She came across to him and took his arm. “I look nice, Daddy, better than usual,” she said, her eyes laughing up at him, “but never beautiful.”
He bent and kissed her cheek. “You always have been and always will be beautiful to me, Jane,” he said quietly, “because I love you.” He saw her look away quickly and he touched her hand on his arm. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She put her finger up to her eye and wiped away the beginning of a tear. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good.” But John stood where he was for a moment as if deciding on something. Then taking Jane’s hand, he held it and faced her. “Janey, are you absolutely sure about this?”
Jane looked at him, at the concern in his eyes. “Yes,” she answered, “I am sure.”
He nodded but still didn’t move. After a few moments he said, “Jane, I want you to understand that if ever anything goes wrong, if ever you need me, I will be here for you.”
She lowered her eyes.
“You will remember that, won’t you?”
Finally she faced him. “Yes, I will always remember that,” she said. “Thank you.”
He took the hand he was holding and placed it back on his arm. “Let’s go then.” He smiled, proud of her, and they walked toward the door. As they stepped outside into the bright summer sunshine the caterers, marquee people and flower arrangers all broke into a round of applause.
“Thank you, thank you so much!” John held the door of the car open for her and Jane waved, smiling and laughing at the fuss, as she climbed inside. She wound down the window and waved again while her father climbed in beside her and patted her knee.
“To the church then,” he said.
“Yes.” Jane held her bouquet up to her nose and breathed in the scent of the flowers. “To the church.” The car pulled off and Jane went to her wedding followed by cheers and cries of good luck.
Suzanna Harvey sat in the Bentley with Mitchell by her side. It was early on Saturday morning and they had just left their country house in Wiltshire for a lunch party in Wimbledon. It was warm, there was a high over the whole country and most of the last week had been in the high sixties. Suzy wore her Hardy Amies sleeveless dress and bolero jacket; the dress was cut low and the jacket had three-quarter sleeves. It wasn’t one of her favorite outfits but Mitchell had asked her specifically to wear it, though God knows why, she thought as she glanced down at it, the color didn’t really suit her and he’d never taken any interest in her clothes before. She looked from the dress to the window and stared out at the view. It was so early that the mist still clung to the hills and valleys and the sky was leaden with the expectation of morning. Suzy stifled a yawn and shifted away from Mitchell as he opened the morning’s newspaper and folded it on to the page that he wanted.
“Suzanna?”
&n
bsp; She continued to stare out of the window. “Yes?”
“Suzy, I have a small gift for you,” Mitchell said as he bent and took a box out of his briefcase by his feet. Suzy watched him out of the comer of her eye but didn’t turn her head away from the window.
“Here.”
She held out her hand, only slightly turning to look at him. “Thank you,” she said.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” His voice had a steely edge to it and she felt her insides recoil.
“Yes, yes of course.” Taking the small, dark, leather box, she lifted the top and saw Asprey’s name and crest in gold on the padded silk. She looked down. “It’s lovely, Mitchell,” she said flatly, taking the pearl choker out and holding it up. It was three ropes of large uncultured pearls, almost pink in color, with a ruby and diamond clasp.
“There’s something else,” Mitchell bent across and lifted the top tier of the box. Underneath were the same three ropes of pearls and clasp but cut to fit her wrist. He motioned for her arm. “Here, let me help you with it.”
She held out her wrist and watched Mitchell’s long wrinkled fingers, his gnarled knuckles fiddle with the pearls. He fastened the bracelet and said, “Lean forward, dear, let me do the choker as well.” She did as he asked and let him finger her neck, admiring his taste. So this was why he’d chosen the outfit; to show off his gifts. She shuddered.
“You’ve been a good girl, Suzanna,” he said, smiling. “I’m pleased with you.” He took the paper up and handed it across to her, a small high giggle escaping him as he did so. “I expect you’ve already seen this?”
Suzy took The Times and glanced down at the page Mitchell had marked. She started, holding the paper tightly between her fingers. She held her breath, the nails of her other hand digging hard into the leather of the seat. “Yes,” she said, “I have.” The pain was so intense that she wondered if she was going to faint. She let her breath go and refilled her lungs. She would be all right, she had to be all right.
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