Rachel Lindsay - Designing Man

  In the weeks that followed she did her best to organize a further spate of publicity. Luckily the women fashion writers were charmed by Paul's faunlike looks, to say nothing of his talent, and she found no difficulty in arranging a series of interviews for him, both in the press and on television. She concentrated also on foreign papers, and within a couple of weeks there was a noticeable upsurge in his business with many clients coming from the Middle East. The spending power of these women was fantastic and sales in one week, according to Madame Lelong, were as much as in a whole good season.

  To show his appreciation Paul sent Alix a gold necklace. But the touch of it around her neck made her feel as if his hands were upon her, and she could not bring herself to wear it.

  "It's time we concentrated on our other clients," Peter reminded her one morning. "You've thought of nothing but Duval's for weeks now."

  "You haven't done badly without me," she replied. "You've worked unusually hard on your own."

  "It was the least I could do for you," he said gruffly. "I didn't pull my weight for so long I'm amazed you didn't fire me!"

  "So am I," she grinned and almost asked him whether he had finally got over Fleur. Then she decided that discretion was far better than total frankness. If Peter wanted to talk to her about his private life, he knew he could always do so.

  In any event it was a few days later when he came into her office and tossed a copy of a midday paper on her desk. He said nothing but a glance at his face made her. scan the front page, which carried a large story of Jack Beecham's forthcoming marriage to Fleur.

  She put the paper down. "It's the best thing that can happen. You'd never have made Fleur happy; all she cares about is money."

  "That isn't true!" he said wearily. "She's marrying him to save her mother from ruin."

  Alix made a face. "That sounds like a line from a

  Congreve play. I know Lady Brandon is a snob but she lives in a small village and I don't see how she—"

  "She gambles," he interrupted. "If she doesn't pay off some of her debts pretty soon, she'll lose her house and everything that goes with it."

  "I see." Alix did—all too clearly. She looked at Peter. "There's nothing you can do about it. If Fleur's made up her mind—"

  "It's not her mind," Peter said bitterly. "It's her mother's! There must be something wrong somewhere when a scheming old woman can ruin the lives of two people."

  "Three," Alix interrupted. "You don't think Beecham's going to be happy with a wife who doesn't love him?"

  Peter shook his head and walked out and Alix resumed work. But she was reminded of her conversation with him when she went to see Paul later in the week and found Lady Brandon with him.

  The woman was studying a sketch and put it down as Alix came into the salon.

  "I'm deciding on a dress for my daughter's wedding," she boomed.

  "I read the announcement in the papers," Alix said. "I hope she'll be very happy."

  "I'm sure she will." Ivy Brandon's lined face was pink with excitement and her whole demeanor exuded satisfaction. She picked up a sample of velvet from the table and held it out to Paul. "This is an excellent color, dear boy, but I'm not sure about the material. Do you have it in a lighter weight?"

  "I'm afraid not. But I'll call the manufacturer and see if we can get it. I'll let you know tomorrow."

  "I'm going back home tonight. My future son-in-law is driving me down." Her eyes gleamed with triumph. "He's bought Fleur a sable coat—it's a surprise for her.

  That's why I came up today. He wanted to see if I liked it."

  "Then I'll call you at home in the morning. If I can get the velvet in a lighter weight I'll send you a sample for approval."

  "I'd prefer to get it settled now. Do you have anything similar?"

  "I'll go to the stockroom and see."

  As soon as he had gone Ivy Brandon turned to Alix. "I'm glad I have the chance to speak with you. I intended calling you up today. It's about that young man you employ. He's pestering Fleur again and you must tell him to stop it."

  "I… I don't see how I can," Alix stammered, taken aback by the demand. "I have no say over Peter's private life."

  "Well, you should have," Lady Brandon said fiercely. "That penniless young fool will ruin her happiness. How dare he keep running after her when she's already engaged! You've got to stop it."

  "Your daughter's the only one who can do that."

  "My daughter's a fool!"

  "Because she doesn't love Jack Beecham. If—"

  Before Alix could say more, Paul returned with several lengths of material and Lady Brandon bent forward to examine them, a set smile on her face.

  Alix went in search of Madame Lelong, unwilling to wait for Paul to be free. She was anxious to return to her office and talk to Peter, but it was an hour before the vendeuse could get her the information she required: sketches of their best-selling wholesale designs and biographies of some of the more important members of the staff. Although she had told Lady Brandon she had no intention of interfering in Peter's life, she had to admit the woman had justification for annoyance. He ought to leave Fleur to make her own decision and not force her into doing something she might regret afterward.

  But by the time she returned home, Peter's desk was empty and only her secretary was there.

  "Where's Peter?" she asked.

  "He had a call from Fleur and dashed out. "

  "If he phones in, tell him I want to see him."

  "I doubt if it'll be today. He told me Lady Brandon was staying in London overnight and asked me to look up the trains to Croxham Parva."

  Alix gave an exclamation of dismay. If Lady Brandon and Jack Beecham caught Peter and Fleur together there would be an extremely ugly scene. Hurriedly she telephoned to the Wrotham House in Croxham Parva, only to find the number out of order. Distractedly she paced the floor. What a time for a telephone to stop working.

  "There's no help for it," she muttered aloud. "I'll have to drive down there."

  "Since when have you been his wet nurse?" Willie asked tartly.

  "Since now," Alix replied. "I don't fancy having another row with Lady Brandon, and she'll blow her top if she sees Peter."

  "So what? She's nothing to you."

  "She's a friend of Paul's family."

  "If you're doing it for him…"

  Alix shrugged but knew her secretary had gotten the point. "Keep trying that Croxham Parva number," she said. "It'll take me an hour to get there."

  Heavy traffic lengthened the time of her journey and it was nearly five when she reached the village of Croxham. She drove past the high stone walls of the manor and, seeing the dark avenue of pines that led to the house, could not suppress a shiver. A little farther along the signpost read Croxham Parva 4 miles, and she drove on between fields of ripening wheat, with hawthorn hedges on each side. Another signpost told her she had two more miles to go, and she automatically glanced at the dashboard. Her gas tank was almost empty and she drove slowly, keeping her eyes open for a garage. A mile along the road she came upon a tiny gas station, hardly more than a rustic cottage with a couple of pumps attached. She pulled up in front of them and tooted for the owner.

  He turned out to be a stout, talkative man, and Alix asked him if he knew the whereabouts of the Brandons' house at Croxham Parva.

  "You mean Lady Brandon's place?" he inquired. "They're customers of mine. The house is about a mile from here. You visiting them?"

  Alix nodded and the man gave a broad smile. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind delivering something for me. I've been waiting for Her Ladyship to come and collect it but she hasn't been here since the night of the murder."

  He disappeared into the cottage and returned with a cigarette holder made of polished tortoiseshell set in gold.

  "She left it here the last time she called," he went on garrulously. "Had a flat tire and wanted it done right away; said she was late for a dinner party. She came into the cottage to wait and as soon as she saw m
y television she changed her mind and asked if she could watch some serial or other. My missus was quite amused by it. I mean both of 'em so different yet both liking the same program."

  "I rarely watch serials myself," Alix smiled. "I can't always be sure of seeing each episode and I'd get furious if I missed one."

  "That's why I don't watch," the man agreed. "But it was the last episode when Lady Brandon was here. I suppose that's why she was so keen to see it. The night of the murder it was," he added. "Quite an event for the village—Parsons Street ending after a year and that French designer getting done in."

  Alix nodded and, putting the cigarette holder in her bag, drove away. So Lady Brandon had watched the serial in the garage man's cottage on the night of the murder. Yet she had distinctly said she had watched it in her own home. It was an odd thing to lie about and Alix was surprised by it. Still, murder brought fear and fear made one do silly things. She had probably been afraid of being questioned if she had said she'd watched it somewhere else. Also she would hate having her name connected with a scandal in case it affected her plans for Fleur.

  Croxham Parva came in sight and Alix drove along the village street until she came to a dignified Queen Anne house, its neat white portico supported by a pair of columns. She stopped before the gate, walked up the path and knocked on the door.

  Almost at once it was opened by Fleur. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you getting out of the car," she said with a smile. "Were you passing through?"

  "I came specifically to see Peter." Alix heard the grimness in her voice but could not lighten it. "Your telephone is out of order and I had to see him."

  "You mean you drove down especially?" The question came from the man himself, who appeared at the threshold of the sitting room. "What's wrong, Alix?"

  "Nothing yet. But there will be if you don't get out of here. Lady Brandon's coming back this afternoon with Jack Beecham. Apparently they want to surprise Fleur."

  "They'd certainly do that," Peter said grimly and glanced at the girl, who had visibly paled. "Well, Fleur?" he said. "What do 1 do—go or stay?"

  "Go. If…if Jack finds you here there'll be an awful row."

  "I don't mind if you don't."

  "I can't. You know why." Fleur was becoming distraught. "You've got to go. Please go."

  Peter continued to stare at her. There was a bitter look on his face that made Alix sure that her arrival had interrupted a quarrel between them.

  Peter raised his hand in a gesture of finality. "Come on, Alix, we mustn't jeopardize Fleur's future any longer."

  Fleur's eyes filled with tears as she watched Peter walk toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he looked at her. "I won't bother you anymore. I love you but I'm not going to grovel at your feet again. I can't offer you a millionaire's paradise—but if you had the courage to marry me…"

  "I don't want any money for myself," Fleur said on a sob. "You know why I'm marrying Jack."

  "Because you're gutless! You're old enough to live your own life but you don't have the courage to untie yourself from your mother's apron."

  He stormed down the path and Fleur looked at Alix.

  "I suppose you think I'm weak and stupid," she whispered on a sob.

  "I think you're muddled by loyalty," Alix said gently.

  "Is loyalty wrong? Mother's done so much for me. I was only six when daddy died and left us without a bean. Mother sacrificed everything to give me the life I would have had if things had been normal."

  "What's normal? An expensive boarding school and Duval clothes? Your mother's living in the past and so are you."

  "That's what Peter says. But I've got to marry Jack. We owe so much money… so many debts… You don't understand."

  "No, I don't. What chance do you have of being happy? Think of it from Beecham's point of view. When your mother dies, you can't seriously tell me you'll go on living with a man you don't love. And then what will happen? You'll end up in the divorce court and by that time Peter might be happily married to someone else."

  "Don't!" Fleur put her hands to her ears. "I can't bear you to say that!" Before Alix knew what was happening, Fleur ran down the path and threw herself at Peter, who was standing by the car.

  "Don't go," she cried. "I can't live without you!"

  Tactfully Alix walked into the sitting room and remained there. Had she been wise to interfere? She had come down with the express purpose of taking Peter back to London and instead had pushed him and Fleur together. She was still mentally kicking herself when the couple came back into the room.

  "Fleur doesn't want us to be here when her mother and Beecham arrive," he said. "She doesn't want her mother to know she's going to marry me."

  Seeing the look of surprise on Alix's face, Fleur said quickly, "Mother has a dreadful temper and there's no point having a scene. I'd rather not tell her anything until I can go straight to Peter."

  "I agree with that," Peter said. "Once we're married her mother will have to accept the situation. I'll be going to Canada to promote our combine-harvester machine, and if Fleur and I get married before we leave, we'll be out of Lady Brandon's way until she's had a chanc,e to cool down."

  "It seems a cowardly thing to do," Alix said slowly, "though I can't blame you. But you're not off to Canada for another fortnight. What will you do meanwhile?"

  "Play it cool. Fleur and I will keep in touch by telephone. We daren't run the risk of meeting."

  "It's going to be hard on Jack Beecham to be jilted at the altar."

  "He'll hate me no matter when I jilt him," Fleur said huskily. "Honestly, this is the only way we can do it. I don't mind defying mother but I… I can't do it openly.''

  Realizing she had already said more than enough, Alix looked at Peter. "We'd better be going. We don't want to be here when Lady Brandon arrives."

  She went out to the car, leaving the lovers alone, and soon Peter came striding down the path and climbed in beside her.

  "I'll never forget all you've done," he said as they left Croxham Parva behind. "If there's anything I can ever do for you, you've only to ask."

  "Thank you," she said quietly and wished it were possible for him to help her prove Paul's innocence. If that were possible, her life would be worth living, even though she would not be living it with him.

  Paul, she whispered silently. My only love…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Though Alix was kept fully occupied with work for the next few days, there was an unidentified disquiet in her mind that refused to be dispelled.

  At the end of the week she could not beat it any longer, and ignoring the calls to be made and the letters to be dictated, she left her apartment and went for a brisk walk in the park. Perhaps the fresh air would help her to think things out. But think what things out?

  Something she had done in the past few days had upset her and she was determined to find out what. Could it be to do with Dina? She shook her head; she had not seen the girl for several days. Was it anything to do with Fleur and Peter then? Again she shook her head; that episode was coming to a satisfactory end, and in another week they would be married and away from Lady Brandon's wrath. Lady Brandon. Alix paused in her walking and, seeing a deserted park bench, sat down and lifted her head to the rays of October sun that filtered feebly through a blanket of cloud. How angry the woman would be when she discovered Fleur's elopement.

  Alix thought of the tall bony figure, the lined skin and autocratic features. She frowned and reached into her bag for a handkerchief; it wasn't there. With a mutter of annoyance she searched among the odds and ends, smiling as she saw the conglomeration of articles: a key of unknown origin, a powder compact, a diary, three proof photographs of a starlet she had been asked to handle and a piece of silver-wrapped chocolate. What a field day a psychiatrist would have here!

  Suddenly she stiffened and picked up a tortoiseshell cigarette holder inlaid with gold. Where had that come from? It certainly wasn't hers. Her brow cleared. Of course! The garage m
an at Croxham Parva had asked her to give it to Lady Brandon, and like a fool she had forgotten all about it. It was impossible to send it to the woman without explaining how she had come by it. Yet to do so would be admitting she had been in the district and would implicate her in Peter's and Fleur's elopement. It was far wiser to forget she had the holder. Lady Brandon had not had it since the night Henri was murdered and had probably written it off as lost.

  With startling clarity the disquiet that had been in Alix's mind dissolved and reformed into a horrified thought. Into several horrified thoughts.

  How could she have been so blind? Carefully she began to enumerate everything that had occurred since she had started to work for Duval's. Apart from Henri's death there were the numerous leakages to the press: stories that only someone close to the family could have known about. She had suspected Peter because he was the only outsider—apart from herself—who had been sufficiently close to the Duvals to know what was going on. But there was Lady Brandon and Fleur, too. Fleur she instantly dismissed as being too gentle and sweet to be a gossip, let alone one who sold her information. That only left Lady Brandon. If she was so desperately short of money that she was prepared to barter the happiness of her daughter, what more natural than that she should sell her friends' private lives to the newspapers?

  Once Alix started to think along these lines, other incidents fell into place—most important of all the matter of the stolen sketches. Henri had been positive no one in the salon had taken them, but he and Paul had been working on them at the manor during the weekend. Ivy Brandon was a regular visitor there and would have had ample opportunity to photograph the drawings secretly.

  Determined to find out if some of her beliefs were true, Alix left the park and hailed a cruising taxi. She directed it to Fleet Street and the office of the Daily Illustrated. Jamie Hunter would have to tell her where he had obtained his information. She was not going to leave his office until he did.

  "Hi, beautiful," he greeted her as she stepped into his office. "To what do I owe the honor?"