Madame Corbe made a gesture of disparagement,
'Oh, a little heart condition, nothing to worry about.'
But Carly would worry. She was concerned now, looking for signs of stress, although it was only at their first meeting that Madame Corbe had seemed tired and strained. She wanted to ask more questions, but that would have been tactless, and she bit her lip and momentarily forgot why she was wearing the scarf and eased it round a little, and Madame Corbe's eyes widened.
Liam swore, at least Carly thought he did. Madame Corbe didn't seem to hear him, she went on looking at Carly's throat, and Carly said, 'I—found it in the little box on the dressing table, and tried it on, and the fastener stuck. I was going to ask someone to undo it.' She looked helplessly at Roland, and Liam said,
'I offered to take it off for you.'
'I thought I could do it myself then.' She wouldn't have had this happen for the world. She didn't want Madame Corbe distressed in any way, and she said, 'I'm sorry, I'd no right to put it on. I just held it round my neck and the fastener clicked.'
'It looks very pretty on you, my dear.' Madame Corbe was smiling again. 'You must keep it.'
'Oh, I couldn't,' Carly protested; but Liam's 'No,' drowned her cry. 'Please,' she appealed to Roland, 'could you unfasten it?'
It took a few seconds. The clasp was either stiff or complicated, and she sat still, feeling Roland's fingers at the back of her neck, but a hundred times more conscious of Liam, who wasn't touching her at all.
When the silver chain slid loose she caught it and Liam held out his hand. She dropped it in his palm, not touching him, and he put the chain in his pocket. He was remembering how it had looked on Antoinette, so was Madame Corbe, of course, and-Liam was blaming Carly for that. He might even think she had done it deliberately, that she wanted to remind Madame Corbe of her granddaughter. He certainly resented any suggestion that Carly should keep the chain, the way he had spoken up he wouldn't even have heard her refusal. '
'I think,' said Madame Corbe, 'that I shall take my little walk now before I go to my room. Perhaps you would like to come with me?'
'Oh yes!' Carly scrambled to her feet. Madame Corbe didn't need helping up, but she took Carly's hand, and Carly put an arm around her; she felt small and slight, as though her bones were as brittle as a bird's. Liam watched with a twisted smile and again Carly knew what he was thinking, and she hated him for believing she felt anything for Madame Corbe but deep disinterested affection.
Long windows opened on to a terrace running around the house. It was a warm night, and when Madame Corbe and Carly stepped out it seemed as mild out here as it had been indoors. The sound of the sea soft and whispering, filled the air, and moonlight lit their way. 'I walk along here each night,' said Madame Corbe, 'when the weather permits. I find it composes the mind.'
Oh, it does, thought Carly. All this beautiful silence, the star-studded sky and the sea, were making her feel wonderfully calm. There was a stone seat at the foot of the tower and Madame Corbe sat down. 'When I was younger,' she said, 'I used to climb the tower and look out. That was like being in the sky, but best of all was the island of the chapel when the tide came in.'
The tide was out. Beneath the cliffs was the strip of gleaming sand then the rocks, great boulders some of them. 'I used to take my troubles out there,' Madame Corbe told her, 'and walk around, with the seabirds for company. It was my favourite place when I was a girl.'
A little breeze touched them and Carly asked, 'Would you like your shawl?'
She had been wearing one earlier, it was lying on a chair. 'I'll fetch it,' said Carly without waiting for an answer, and hurried back towards the open windows of the drawing room. She heard Roland's voice as she approached, sounding shrill, demanding, 'What's it add up to, anyhow?' and she walked softly.
'I'll tell you what it adds up to,' said Liam. 'The shop isn't making much of a living, but she goes short of nothing she wants. The man seeing her off at the airport thought she was moving in with him until she got a better offer. Aunt Aimee, presumably, and possibly you. Well, Aunt Aimee might not see through her, but by God, you'd better. Remember, one bloke landed in jail providing the good life for her, and she never even bothered to check what happened to him after that. He could have hanged himself for all she cared.'
The horror in Roland's voice was in Carly too. She froze, as Roland croaked, 'He didn't, did he?'
'No, he didn't,' said Liam, and she tore into the room, the ice melted in a flame, of fury.
'No, he didn't!' she echoed savagely. 'Somebody would have told me if he had, but how do you know what happened to him?'
'Do you care?' drawled Liam, and she grated,
'I never want to see him again, but I hope he's all right. What do you know about him?'
'That he's alive and well and running a moderately successful business in stripped pine,' said Liam.
'Well, I'm glad to hear it. You said you didn't know Gerald.'
'I don't. I checked up after you turned up.'
Loathing for him rose in her so that she could have heaved. 'Hoping he'd hanged himself? Hoping I should have something ghastly on my conscience?' She had carried enough guilt for something that was not her fault, and she said bitterly, 'Did anyone ever ask what he did to me?'
'What did he do to you?' Liam's voice was deceptively gentle, just as it must often be in court.
Took away trust, stripped her of pride—but Liam was too cynical to believe that, and she shrugged, 'Nothing you'd understand.' She picked up Madame Corbe's shawl and looked at Roland for the first time. He seemed struck dumb. 'Goodnight, gentlemen,' she said.
She walked back along the terrace with her head high, although nobody was watching. It would have been all the same to Liam if she had crawled away. When she reached the stone seat she put the shawl around Madame Corbe's shoulders, then sat down and asked, 'Has Liam said anything to you about Gerald Collett?'
'Who's Gerald Collett?' So he hadn't. But he would, and it was better that Carly should try to explain first. She gripped the carved arm of the stone seat and said, 'Someone I met years ago. He went to prison for stealing and he'd spent a lot of money on me. I thought it was his money, but it wasn't, and Liam knows about it.' She took a great gulp of air. 'And he thinks that now I'm out to swindle you, or anybody else who's fool enough to trust me. He must think I'm some kind of ‑'
Words failed her. Well, she knew the words for what Liam thought she was, but she couldn't say them, and to her dismay her throat closed, and her eyes misted and tears were pouring down her cheeks, dripping off her chin.
'It's all right.' Madame Corbe put her arms around her, gathering her in as though she was a child, and Carly blinked mopping her face with her hands, hiccuping, 'I'm s-sorry, I can't remember when I last did that.'
'He was talking about this just now? He has upset you, hasn't he?' Madame Corbe sounded as though she was soothing a child with a grazed knee, and Carly said,
'No, he hasn't upset me,' which was stupid when the tears were still wet on her cheeks. 'But it isn't fair,' she muttered, 'because I'm n-not what he thinks I am.'
'Come along.' Madame Corbe got up, taking Carly's hand.
'Where?' She couldn't go back in, and that was the direction that Madame Corbe was tugging. 'I can't go in just yet.'
'Of course you can.'
It was surprising how the little hand had developed quite a grip. If I struggle with her, thought Carly, feeling hysterical laughter threatening, I could jerk her off her feet. But Madame Corbe continued to pull on Carly's hand, and very unwillingly Carly walked with her.
She must look such a sight, her mascara must have run, and she had probably smudged her lipstick too.
But why should she care? Blow the pair of them! Perhaps they wouldn't be there. There were enough rooms in this place, perhaps they'd have taken themselves off.
But they were more or less where she had left them. Roland sitting upright in an armchair, Liam lounging in another. They mus
t have heard the approaching footsteps, because they weren't talking. They were both looking at the long windows with the draped curtains through which Carly and Madame Corbe reappeared, and Carly thought, it's like a play with an audience of two. Her cheeks were flaming now, so hot that the tears should be drying rapidly, and her eyes were burning.
'Liam,' said Madame Corbe, in her soft sweet tones, 'what is this all about? Look what you've done to Carly!'
He was looking. Carly couldn't tell what he was thinking, his face was expressionless, but he was looking at her. 'What I've done?' he echoed.
'She's been telling me about that foolish young man,' Madame Corbe went on. 'But Carly wasn't his keeper. She was deceived by him. So why are you bringing back these unhappy memories for her?' The hand she put on Liam's arm trembled. 'It isn't like you, being unkind.'
Not to you, thought Carly. That's why he's so prejudiced against me, because he thinks he's protecting you. And maybe the money. He suspects I'm after Antoinette's share. He must be loaded himself, but he doesn't want that.
Liam smiled a slow smile. 'All right—it's past history. We'll take Carly's word that she's all heart.' He patted the old lady's hand on his arm and she looked relieved, apparently unaware of the mockery behind his words.
'And you are going to be friends?' she persisted.
'Why not?' shrugged Liam.
Carly could have given a dozen good reasons why not, but when Madame Corbe turned anxiously to her she said, 'That will be nice—and now if you don't mind I think I'd better go to my room.' She couldn't stay down here with her tear-streaked face, and it was getting late; Madame Corbe said,
'Of course—goodnight, my dear,' and kissed her gently, and Carly wondered if she was remembering Antoinette as her lips brushed Carly's flushed cheek.
She said, 'Goodnight,' and Roland's 'Goodnight,' startled her; she had almost forgotten he was there. She went quickly. She was across the hall and at the bottom of the stairs before she realised she was being followed.
Roland? she thought, and turned, and it was Liam. Her instincts were to run for it and lock her door, but she knew he would catch her before she reached her room, so she stopped where she was, looking at him stonily, and demanded, 'Well, friend?'
He said, 'I think you and I had better have a truce when Aunt Aimee's around.'
She shrugged, exaggeratedly casual. 'As the man said just now—why not?'
'She can do without emotional scenes. As you realised tonight, she had a heart condition.' Carly bit her lip, hearing him say that. There was a frown line cutting deep between his brows. 'I didn't expect you to go out there and produce floods of tears,' he added.
He was suggesting it was part of an act, to enlist Madame Corbe's sympathy, and she gave a choked shriek of laughter. 'Neither did I expect it, for heaven's sake! I'd be some actress, wouldn't I, if I could do that? Those floods of tears were a safety valve blowing. If I hadn't burst into tears I would probably have gone looking for a hatchet, then come back looking for you.'
'You'd have found me.' The eyes were hooded. 'So long as you're here I'm never going to be more than two paces behind.'
'What makes you think you can keep up with me?' she snapped, and pushed past him and ran up the stairs. The painting at the top of the stairs was a man in a dark jacket with a white frilled jabot, sitting at a desk with his hand on a book. There were family portraits all over the place. The man at the top of the stairs had a stranger's face but Liam's long strong fingers and beautifully manicured nails. He's everywhere, Carly thought, and looked back to where he was still standing at the foot of the wide stairs, then hurried off in the direction of her bedroom.
She was shedding no more tears in this house, she decided when she saw her clown-streaked eyes and feverish face in the dressing table mirror. The tears hadn't been anger so much as misery as memories of Gerald had flooded back.
'You idiot!' she chided herself. She was supposed to be relaxing and enjoying herself, swimming, sightseeing, learning to ride. That was what Roland had promised her, but after listening to Liam just now Roland might have had second thoughts about her. He didn't seem to have said anything while the drama was being played out. Except, 'Goodnight,' and if tomorrow went on like this it would be, 'Goodbye.'
Carly jerked herself up. She had been sitting at the dressing table with her head in her hands, and that was idiotic, because she didn't have to stay here. There had to be some way she could get out of Guirec Vert, if it was only by winged dragon. She made herself grin at that, as though it was quite a joke. But the grin didn't last. She was sighing again in the bathroom, and curled up in Antoinette's bed she wished she was back home, with Ruth and William within call.
She hoped Ruth wasn't lying awake worrying. All the money this family must have, yet Ruth was worried sick because the lease was going up by a few hundred measly pounds. If they were sapphires in that necklet and I'd accepted it, thought Carly, I could have sold it and put the money into Ruth's account.
Liam wouldn't have been surprised if she'd held on to it. He thought she was a dedicated grabber, and that made her so angry, so mad, she was thrashing around as though she had a fever, until the quilt slithered off and she had to lean over to retrieve it. After that she tried to lie still, hugging the down-filled coverlet around her and thinking how nice it would be to have someone to snuggle up to.
'Come and share my home,' Barney had said, but she wouldn't. It wasn't Barney whose comfort and loving she needed.
Next morning she was determined, if there was any tension in the atmosphere when she got downstairs, she was staying no longer than it took to arrange her journey home. If Liam's prejudices had rubbed off on Roland she was off. She hadn't expected Liam to be here. As he was, he was all the aggro she was taking. But as she walked down the staircase Roland came hurrying to meet her and enquire, 'Did you sleep well?' Before she could answer he added, 'Of course you did, or you wouldn't look so blooming.'
She hadn't slept well, but her make-up was skilfully applied, and she said wryly, 'Remembering how I looked last night it wouldn't be hard to look better.'
'About last night,' he shifted uncomfortably, 'I'm sorry you overheard what Liam was saying. There'd have been no scene at all if you hadn't.'
Carly raised her eyebrows. 'You mean if I hadn't heard him saying that Gerald could have hanged himself for all I cared you'd have told him to shut up?'
'Yes,' said Roland.
'I wouldn't have minded hearing that.' She was sure Roland would have listened as long as Liam had talked, but this was a friendly gesture, so she smiled,
'Oh, let's forget it.'
A broad beam spread over his face, and he took her hand as Liam came into the hall. 'Lovely day,' said Liam.
'It was,' said Carly.
'This morning,' said Liam, 'we're going to show you around.'
'Both of you?'
'Not necessarily,' said Liam, deliberately misunderstanding. 'I'm on holiday, but I expect Roland has work waiting.'
'Nothing that can't wait,' said Roland.
Carly had breakfasted in her room. Now she was taken round the Chateau. The sun shone through the old convex panes in the tall narrow windows, as she went from room to room, admiring, exclaiming. There was so much to see—the paintings by famous artists, French and English, the family portraits. The English branch dated from just after the first world war, and in every picture Carly caught herself looking for Liam, occasionally glimpsing some similarity, although it was usually Roland who told her the names, and if there was anything worth telling, what they had done.
There really was a bed in which Napoleon once slept in the summer of 1813. It was in an oak-panelled room, a black four-poster with saffron-yellow curtain drops and covers, and Carly asked, 'Does anyone ever sleep in here?'
'Occasionally,' said Liam. 'The only shrine in this house was Antoinette's room,' and Carly turned to Roland.
'I wish your aunt hadn't put me in there. I shouldn't be in Antoinette's place in
any way.'
'We do know,' said Liam.
'I'd really like another room.'
'How about this?' suggested Liam.
Carly stroked the damask bed hangings. 'Is all this original?' It was, and that settled it. 'I'd never dare sleep in here! I'd be terrified of spilling coffee or tearing a sheet if I had a nightmare. But I'd love to tell them back home that I'd sat on Napoleon's bed.'
'Be our guest,' said Liam. She sat gingerly on the bed's edge and he knelt down, slipping off first one of her shoes, then the other, and her toes curled. 'Lie back, and think of Napoleon,' he ordered. He swung her feet on to the bed and her head went back. It wasn't the most comfortable of beds, it felt rather hard, but she stretched out luxuriously, smiling as Liam looked down at her.
Suddenly his dark mocking farce became serious and a small muscle twitched in his cheek, and she almost cried out. Then Roland said something about the stone fireplace, and she got off the bed and put on her shoes, and pretended to examine the coat of arms carved above the fireplace: the flying lion, the latticed pattern, words on a scroll 'Resurgam—Guirec.'
If Roland hadn't been in the room she would have cried out Liam's name. But Liam was talking about the family of stonemasons who had carved the fireplace, their descendants still lived in Guirec Vert. His voice was so calm it sounded slightly bored; perhaps she had misread the desire that had seemed so nakedly apparent to her a moment ago.
Roland hadn't noticed. She could have been wrong. But she was almost sure that, looking at her lying there, Liam had wanted her fiercely, and that if he had moved to take her she could have gone up like tinder.
CHAPTER SIX
Liam didn't like her, but physically he wanted her, and that would have been fine, and flattering, if she hadn't found him so disturbing. If she could stay cool the power would be hers.
Carly had never realised before that physical chemistry could exist without liking, but even now she was wondering what would have happened if Roland had not been in that bedroom, remembering Liam's suddenly urgent face and her answering surge of desire.. She knew what would have happened, and as they walked along the corridor she began reminding herself why she disliked Liam.
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