by Margaret Way
'You're not terribly good―it's Caline, Jean Patou!'
'The very thing!' said Nigel, emboldened by the drink in him and the party atmosphere. 'Do you want to hear what I think?'
'No,' Brooke said briefly, wondering if she should try a tiny scream.
'O.K.' Nigel didn't appear to want to take no for an answer. 'It's my bet you're thinking of Corelli as a future husband.'
'In which case you might let go of her !'
The door had opened and Paul stood on the threshold, smiling in a manner that didn't reach his eyes and carrying a number of beautifully wrapped gifts.
'It's my fault. I'll admit it !' Brooke said sweetly, looking sideways at Nigel and feeling in the mood for mischief.
'Thank you, Nigel,' Paul said pleasantly, and Nigel didn't have to take a second glance at him to get the idea.
'Don't keep us waiting, you two! ' He closed the door behind him and for an instant there was silence in the room.
'We might as well go out,' Brooke said briskly. 'May I get by?'
'Mi scusi!' He bowed, put his parcels down on the sideboard, but as she went to sweep past him he caught her high up on the arm.
'What is it?' she asked, a little bewildered by the faint trace of savagery that prowled in his black eyes.
'No use to look to Watling!' he told her pointedly. 'You are not yet my dear fiancee, but he had better I stay away from you, and you make sure you tell him this.'
'You're joking! ' she answered tautly, her green eyes flicking all over his face .
'No!' he shrugged, looking very foreign, and anyone else but Brooke might have decided she had better take his advice.
'Here's to a nice evening,' she said with false gaiety. 'If you'll come through I'll have the chance of meeting your daughter.'
'Of course you are right.' His hand fell away from her arm and she just knew there was going to be a bruise there. She had to thank him for so many things, including the small treasure trove he had just put down on the sideboard, but some deep-seated resistance within her prevented her.
'You look very striking this evening!' he said in a suave, formal tone. 'Una bella ragazza.'
'You made no mistake with this dress!' she said, matching the odd, formal tone.
'No! ' he agreed dryly. 'Now you look as beautiful as you're stubborn. Come, little one, so I may introduce Lucia and Carla. Lucia badly needs a young friend to turn to.'
Something very gentle in the words broke down her hostility. Something about him frightened her, caused a slight fluttering of the heart. In a very short time he seemed to have changed the whole course of her life, plunging her into a world of intrigue and a dangerous emotional involvement, yet she saw from the expression in his brilliant dark eyes that he loved his daughter and wanted the best for her. In a small way it put her most definitely on his side.
In the drawing room everyone seemed to be standing about like statues obviously waiting for them and watching their progress.
'Ah, darling!' Lillian cried with just the faintest touch of anxiety. 'Do come and meet Lucia and Carla!'
At her mother's side, Louise raised her delicate eyebrows faintly at her sister, then Paul took over, performing introductions.
Not for a second did Brooke betray her deep surprise. With Paul such a striking-looking man, so eye-catching in every way, she had expected Lucia to be a true Mediterranean beauty, perhaps even already a woman as Brooke's own class at college were still very much schoolgirls, but Lucia was physically and temperamentally as different from her father as she could be. She was painfully shy, very small and' slight, at first glance plain until one noticed her beautiful gentle eyes and the wealth of glossy dark hair that was unbecomingly styled for her small, narrow face.
'How are you, Lucia?' Brooke said softly to the top of the glossy head. 'I've so been looking forward to meeting you! '
At this Lucia lifted her head shyly, and her dark eyes grew bright and expressive. 'It is very kind of you. Papa is right, you are most beautiful. All of you!' She turned, embracing Lillian and Louise with her eyes.
'You sweet child!' Lillian took the girl's hand and patted it as Carla and Brooke acknowledged one another. For one ghastly minute at the front door Lillian had very nearly made a dreadful mistake, mistaking Carla for Lucia until she could see better in the light. Not that Paul looked remotely like anyone's father, let alone a grown woman, but Carla was much more in the expected mould, a sophisticated and confident young woman secure in her own slightly lush good looks.
She focused her big dark eyes on Brooke and looked her up and down, not correctly, but with intense critical appraisal, and though Brooke felt the jolt of surprise she kept on smiling as she murmured a few pleasantries. Having decided that Brooke was somehow unsuitable, Carla let her eyes travel to Paul's sculptured face, the brown glitter melting to liquid, the flamingo tips of her fingers barely touching his sleeve.
Aha! Brooke thought wryly, and saw the flash of agreement in her sister's eyes. Carla was busy telling them how kind Paul had been to her and what good friends they had been years ago in Kenya. Nigel, a little distant from Louise, was looking secretly amused, but the blond-headed Patrick seemed attracted by the flashing vitality of Carla's golden-skinned face. That Louise was observing him and his betraying expression didn't seem to matter. Though she had other plans, Louise still clung obstinately to her admirers and anyone could see Carla di Campo was a potentially dangerous woman.
Over dinner Brooke received many more hard, assessing glances from Carla's dark eyes. She was not beautiful as many people supposed at first glance, but she was undeniably attractive, with strongly marked features, a sensuous mouth and a provocative figure bordering on the very slightly plump. She didn't waste much time charming the women, including her 'little mouse of a cousin', but she laughed frequently with Nigel and Patrick and she didn't bother keeping her devouring eyes off Paul, every little reminiscence implying that they had known one another very well indeed in Kenya. Rather maliciously Brooke met Paul's bland, sardonic gaze, but she could detect no hint of discomfort in him. If Carla wished to make it appear they were very good friends, her attempts were being reduced to the respectable by his manner.
The food, to Brooke's gratification, was very good. Everyone helped themselves liberally to everything while Lillian commended her aloud on her efforts, allowing Paul to refill her wineglass with some of the beautiful Cabernet Sauvignon. Ordinarily Brooke hardly drank red wine, but the beef casserole was so delicious. Carla, who seemed hungry, told them she was a brilliant, natural cook, and Nigel retorted that he wouldn't be afraid to let her prove her claim some evening soon.
All of them, with the exception of Carla who was offhandedly affectionate, were very gentle with Lucia, not trying to draw her out but giving her time to eat quietly and enjoy the conversation. Her intensely dark, heavily lashed eyes almost swamped her small face and she was wearing a dress in a shade of green that made her olive skin look sallow. Carla, in her flamingo-coloured silk jersey, couldn't have presented a greater contrast and Brooke wondered why Carla hadn't gone to the trouble of finding a more becoming dress for Lucia to wear. Brooke was relieved to see Lucia's skin was smooth and clear, and with her glossy dark hair cut short and allowed to curl naturally she could look appealing.
The meal progressed and as Brooke brought the coffee in she caught Paul's look of amused admiration. Their glances locked and he smiled, black eyes softening to velvet, his teeth very white against his dark, polished skin. Hastily she looked away from him, but not before she noticed Carla. was regarding both of them with a hawk eye. Paul got up to assist her and afterwards, Brooke thought wryly, it had turned into a very successful dinner party with everyone in excellent spirits, induced by the food and the wine and their beautiful surroundings.
It was after eleven o'clock before anyone thought of going home, and Brooke was betrayed briefly when Paul drew her to him and lightly kissed her mouth. Lucia coloured shyly and smiled as though it was only a matt
er of time before her father and Brooke would be married, but the blood racing under Carla's cheeks might very well have been anger.
Louise thought it was and scarcely waited until their guests had gone to murmur it in Brooke's ear.
'She's jealous, I can tell! '
'Poor little girl! ' said Lillian, looking back at both of them. All three cars were slipping down the drive and out into the secluded, tree-lined street. 'I've never been so embarrassed in my life. To think Paul could have such a plain daughter! I very nearly made the mistake of thinking Carla was she. By 'the time she got into the light of course I realised my mistake, but I'm quite sure Paul noticed. He doesn't miss a thing! '
All three of them walked back into the entrance hall and Brooke shut the heavy wide door flanked by arching windows and a fanlight of very beautiful etched glass. 'I think it was successful all the same. She's actually a very sweet and modest young girl.'
'Terribly shy! ' Lillian commented, switching off the outside lights. 'Which is scarcely the case with Miss di Campo. I wonder if it mightn't be an idea if you and Paul get married right away.'
'It all seems so splendidly romantic!' Louise maintained, lost in a daydream.
'Pretty foolishly romantic, don't you mean?' Brooke returned rather sharply.
Lillian gave a delicate, muffled little yawn. 'Please, darling, don't continue your revolution. I'm sure your heart is in the right place. Paul will make a better world for all of us and that little girl will be lost if someone doesn't come to her assistance. She can't possibly wear her hair like that or dress so drably. I mean, Paul is so elegant. His clothes are so beautiful, uniquely European in flavour, yet Lucia couldn't have worn a more unbecoming dress―and in such a colour ! It emphasised the sallow tone of her skin.'
'Carla could have given her some good advice,' Brooke permitted herself the waspish comment, 'but she doesn't seem to feel anything at all except for herself and Paul.'
'I personally would marry him right away!' said Lillian. 'Now, darlings .I'm going to bed. Louise, lend your sister a hand.'
'As long as that doesn't mean washing up!' Louise protested, looking at her small, pretty hands.
'Which just goes to show when you were last in the kitchen!' Brooke said dryly. 'We have a dishwasher, remember?'
'Well, I've seen you washing up at different times.' Louise frowned in puzzlement.
'When I choose to,' Brooke agreed. 'It's not economical to use the dishwasher all the time.'
But Louise scarcely heard, as she walked into the kitchen and exclaimed over the gifts Paul had left.
In the morning Paul rang to thank them for a delightful evening and Lucia and Carla were given their chance to say thank you too. Brooke took the call as neither her mother nor Louise were early risers, and never after a night of entertaining. By the time she got to school she had stopped seething over the artificial friendliness in Carla's voice, obscurely glad that Lucia had an apartment to herself which Carla was sharing. It seemed strange that Carla had been chosen as a companion for Lucia. So far as Brooke could judge they didn't have a thing in common and Carla seemed faintly dismissive in her attitude to her own sex, drawn very strongly towards men and showing it. Or rather, a man: Paul Corelli.
Brooke found herself brooding on it all day. From time to time the fear shook her coldly that she was giving in to the many advantages marriage with Paul Corelli would bring. She would be mistress of her own home, Wintersweet, Mamma and Louise would be absolutely secure and she knew in her heart that if she allowed him to make love to her she would be carried away by a dangerous passion. He was incredibly persuasive and she might even end up thinking it would be the height of foolishness to turn down his offer. Carla had arrived and Brooke's first instinct was right. Carla at some time had been in love with him, still was, and the knowledge gave her a very uncomfortable sensation.
As for Lucia—! Brooke had felt her heart go out to her. She needed guidance and a warm understanding. Probably she had been miserably lonely without her father and naturally very retiring. Brooke wondered whether she knew the circumstances of her birth and whether they had altered her and made her a different person. If not, she could only resemble her mother, and Brooke had a shattering fear that she might still be alive. Much as she deplored going into the matter she really did have to know about Lucia's mother. It didn't even occur to her then that she had been lured into an inescapable position. She believed herself to be in charge of her own life.
The weeks until the end of term slipped away with amazing rapidity. As a private school, Brentleigh closed its gates at the end of November and now Brooke had time to spend with Lucia. In the past month, Paul, had been interstate several times on business and Brooke sensed Carla wasn't spending as much time with her young cousin as she should. Carla was blooming, noticeably slimmer, with invitations everywhere, while the sixteen-year-old Lucia, too young to be involved in the social whirl and terrified of it, remained much the same, very shy and insecure.
In the very first week of the holidays Brooke rang Paul at his office and discovered that like everyone else she had to have an appointment to see him. Slightly piqued, she listened to the time his secretary gave her and hung up, frowning sightlessly at a painting on the wall. If she hadn't decided on properly outfitting Lucia she wouldn't have bothered, but Lucia's blossoming seemed most important.
The Corelli executive offices were most impressive, especially to anyone seeing them for the first time. Brooke had perched Herself on the edge of a plush real leather sofa, her long slender legs drawn neatly to one side and crossed at the ankles. She looked the picture of cool elegance in a white linen safari-look su'it with a sun-yellow silk shirt beneath, but inside she was feeling rather terrible. In trying to help Lucia wasn't she implying that there was considerable room for improvement? Perhaps Paul was blind to his daughter's superficial limitations, things that could be radically altered, like a new hairstyle for example. How would he take her interference? Far from being loverlike his manner with her had been extremely businesslike for the past weeks. Coming right down to it, he might have decided to call the deal of getting married right off. He wouldn't even have to give a reason.
Behind her desk, the good-looking young receptionist picked up the phone and breathed into it:
'Certainly, Mr. Corelli! '
Brooke looked towards her and the girl smiled and nodded. 'Mr. Corelli will see you now. Sorry to keep you waiting, but something is always happening around here.' She stood up and led Brooke across an ante-room, then down to Paul's office, cooing Brooke's name at the door, then closing it softly after her.
Paul stood up and moved across the room to her, taking her hand and just barely lifting it to his lips. 'It's so unlike you, Brooke, to think of visiting me.'
'I can hardly believe I'm here. I've been waiting fifteen minutes.'
'I'm sorry! ' he smiled at her tart tone, and led her across the thickly carpeted floor, indicating that she take one of the black leather armchairs. On either side of the huge plate glass window behind his desk were major modern paintings by artists she recognised and another behind the sofa wall.
'I don't think I've ever seen such a stylish office! ' she commented, trying to relax. As usual just facing him and those dark intent eyes made her fretful and vaguely excited.
'Thank you, Miss Howell. I don't think you came here to tell me that!' He moved with lithe grace and sat down in the armchair opposite her. 'What is it, little one, have you come to tell me you simply can't marry me?'
She lifted her head and met his mocking dark gaze. 'To be perfectly frank, I've come to talk about Lucia.'
'So?' He gave a characteristic Latin shrug.
'It's for you to consider, of course.'
'Tell me, cara,' he said rather pointedly. 'I was dying to talk about us, but I guess Lucia is of considerable interest.'
Brooke sighed and seemed to sink a little deeper into the armchair. 'You sound faintly hostile!'
'Not at all! ' He l
eaned over and caught at her fingertips. 'Perhaps a little disappointed. I don't wish to force you to marry me, but I think I've given you enough time.'
She shook her titian head almost mournfully. 'Please, Paul, may we talk about Lucia? I know you're a very busy man and I'd like to start right away.'
'Well, go ahead and start,' he invited sardonically. His black eyes slipped over her hair and her face, travelled over her slender frame and rested with amazing insolence on her exquisite young legs. 'What beautiful limbs you have!' he murmured, admiring them openly.
'How you exaggerate!' she said moodily, her green eyes beginning to flash storm signals.
'You have too many complexes, cara mia. I'm going to force you out of them. You're a beautiful woman, very desirable, yet you seem to find it alarming.'
'Yes,' she answered, and bit her full lower lip. 'With you, I do.'
'That's something at least! ' He shifted further back in his armchair, looking indolent and full of a superb animal grace. 'About Lucia?'