'You've worked everything out,' Melanie stated in a tired, flat voice. ‘But you've forgotten one thing: I'd already sold my jewellery, so Verenskaya didn't need any more money.'
'A ballet company can always use more money.'
For a moment she was silent Pride told her that if Gregory loved her he should never have believed her capable of such behaviour, never have put her in the position of having to defend herself like this. Yet he did believe it; and fear of what it would do to their relationship if she could not make him see that he was wrong forced her to try and prove her innocence.
‘You're the one who's not being logical now,' she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. ‘From the moment we met you've always found it difficult to give me the benefit of the doubt. But at least you've always credited me with having had some feeling for Mrs. Ransome.'
‘I won't deny that,' he said.
Then don't you think my affection for her would have prevented me from giving or selling this letter to Herbert Fenwick? Do you think I'd have run the risk - for all the money in the world - of giving him control of the business?'
'I've thought of it from that angle too,' came the reply. 'But perhaps Fenwick promised that he wouldn't do anything while my aunt was alive. Anyway, from his point of view the letter gave him sufficient power to force me into proposing to Lydia.'
'And I suppose you think I knew that was going to happen too!' Melanie flung at him.
'No, I don't think that,' Gregory said. 'The one thing I do happen to believe is that you love me.' He took a step towards her. 'From the moment Lydia gave me this letter, I haven't been able to think about anything else. I've gone mad trying to work out what was in your mind.'
'And what conclusions have you come to?’
'I don't believe you realized the full implication of what you were doing when you gave the letter to Fenwick. I think you believed it would just give him more shares and a greater percentage of the profit - as well as giving you a little extra cash in hand in case Verenskaya needed it.'
Listening to him Melanie felt as though there was nothing more he could say to hurt her. If it were possible to reach rock- bottom in one's life, she had reached it at this moment. 'Thank you for trying to find some excuse for my behaviour,' she said in a voice from which all life had gone, 'but as I didn't find the letter and I didn't sell it to Herbert Fenwick, all your suppositions are wrong.' She tilted her head and stared him fully in the face. ‘But if I had found this letter, I would have given it to you.'
'So you're still pretending you're innocent?’
'I'm not pretending, I'm telling you the truth.’ Seeing his expression of disbelief, her apathy was replaced once more by anger, an anger so strong that all her inhibitions fled. 'But don't take any notice of me - listen to Lydia - the way you always do! But don't delude yourself that she brought you this letter because she cared about clearing Timothy's name. All she cared about was destroying mine! She knew her father had the letter the whole time, and the only reason she decided to show it to you now was because she knew how you'd react And she's been proved right!'
Gregory reddened angrily, but his voice was calm when he answered. ‘Even if Lydia knew about the letter - and I am not saying she did - why would her father have given it to her? He puts business above everything else, and bringing this letter out into the open has cost him Timothys shares.'
'On the contrary,' Melanie retorted, 'unless I can pay him back the fifteen thousand pounds, those shares still belong to him. And he knows very well that I haven't got that sort of money.'
'You will have soon,' Gregory replied. 'You'll have considerably more, in fact.'
'What do you mean?'
'Apparently my aunt left Instructions that on her death the Trustees were to sell her entire stock to Fenwick and that the money from the sale should be divided between you and myself.'
Melanie stared at him incredulously. ‘You mean I get half?'
Yes. So paying Fenwick back his loan is something you'll be able to do quite easily. You're a rich woman now.'
Melanie shrugged away his words, only able to think of the letter lying on the table. 'So Fenwick and Lydia win either way. He has control of the business - even if I don't sell him these shares - and Lydia has managed to destroy me as far as you're concerned.'
Outside the front door slammed and Verenskaya's guttural voice could be heard and then Anton's softer, quicker one. Steps crossed the floor, the door opened and Anton came in.
Seeing Gregory he hesitated, then smiled slightly and came forward. 'Sorry to butt in, but Verenskaya and I hung around till we thought the lovers' greetings were over!' Suddenly aware that neither Gregory nor Melanie looked particularly loverlike, the smile left his face and he looked from one to the other, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.
I Answering the implicit question in his look, Melanie picked up Timothy's letter and gave it to Anton. At the sight of it, his face - normally sallow - became ashen, and she stared at him in perplexity.
But Gregory had no doubts as to what it meant, for he took an angry step towards Anton and then swung around violently to Melanie. 'So he's in it too! I might have known Anton would be involved in it somewhere along the line!'
'I don't know what you mean,' she faltered.
'Save your lies! There's no point pretending any more. You put the Company above everything else and you're prepared to lie and cheat in order to keep it going. Well, this is the last time you've lied and cheated to me. I'm finished with you!'
He strode to the door, but Anton stepped in his path. 'Don't be so quick oft the mark, Ransome. Melanie knew nothing about that letter. I was the one who found it and I was the one who took it to Fenwick.'
'Save your breath,' Gregory said. 'I expected you to try and take the blame.'
'I'm telling you the truth.'
‘You wouldn't even know the meaning of the word!' Gregory's voice was icy with contempt. 'You were both in it together and you both deserve each other!'
Melanie watched the two men as though she were looking at a scene in a nightmare. Pride urged her to let Gregory go, but as he stepped past Anton and moved to the door, she ran after him and caught his arm.
'Gregory, don't! Try and believe me! Try and think clearly!'
'I've had plenty of time to think,' he replied. 'But it's no use.'
'You mean you don't love me?’
A look of pain crossed his face and his voice was weary when he spoke. 'I'll love you for the rest of my life, but I could never trust you. And without trust, there is nothing.' Suddenly, as though losing his control, his hands came out and gripped her arm like a vice. If you'd only admit what you did - admit that you were wrong - then maybe we could—'
‘No!' She wrenched away from his hold. 'I won't admit something that isn't true. Believe what you like. I don't care any more.'
Tears flooded into her eyes and his figure seemed to expand and then fade into a watery ghost. She put her hands to her head, and when next she lifted her eyes, only Anton was there to watch her.
For a long moment they stared at one another and it was he who turned away first, pacing the room like a caged animal.
She watched him without any sense of anger; perhaps that would come later when her present anguish abated and she would be able to feel some other emotion.
'You must hate me very much,' Anton muttered,
‘Why did you do it?' she whispered.
'I don't know. But when I found that letter in Timothy's desk, it was such a shock… such a temptation…'
‘To get money,’ she asked, ‘or to make mischief?’
‘Not money,' he answered quickly.
Then why? she asked again. ‘Why didn't you give me the letter?
For several moments he did not reply, but she knew instinctively that it was not because he was searching for an answer, but because be was afraid that when he gave one, it would damage him irreparably in her eyes.
'I did it because of you,’ he said at la
st 'I didn't give Fenwick the letter until you told me you were going to marry Gregory. I thought Fenwick could use it to keep you apart.'
She swayed and caught hold of the bads of a chair. That was the most vicious thing you could have done.'
'I see that now.' His voice was slurred and he came over and touched her shoulder. 'Forgive me, Melanie… I was so crazy with jealousy I couldn't think straight. And by the time I realized what I had done, it was too late.'
'It would never have been too late to have told me the truth!'
‘What good would it have done you?'
'It might have made me realize that Gregory had been blackmailed into his engagement to Lydia.'
For the first time the remorse on Anton's face was replaced by a sneer. 'Do you think your knowing that would have made any difference? As long as Mrs. Ransome was alive, Gregory would have been tied to Lydia. He put his aunt's happiness before yours.'
He also put it before his own! Do you think he wanted to J marry Lydia? His love for his aunt forced him to act the way he did. But you acted out of spite. Everything you did was guaranteed to destroy my happiness!'
'I wanted to keep you with the Company,' he muttered. 'Ballet is your life… I thought Gregory would make you give it up.'
'That still didn't give you the right to play God,' she said | remorselessly. 'Or perhaps it would be better if I said devil.'
With a groan, he sank down in a chair. 'You've every right to hate me. If only you knew how I've hated myself…' He looked up at her, his eyes dark with grief. 'When Gregory got engaged to Lydia, I was convinced that you'd forget him. That in time you'd turn to me - the way you had in Australia.'
'I was a different person then.'
'I found that out in New York,' he admitted. 'Once Gregory came over and I saw you together, I knew I didn't stand a chance with you; that if you couldn't have him, you'd have no one.'
'I could have told you that a long time ago,' she said, ‘but you wouldn't have believed me.'
Anton's body curved in dejection and slowly, like an old man, he stood up. 'I am going to tell him the truth.'
'He won't believe you. He'll still think I knew about it.’
'I'll make him believe me.'
‘No!' she said sharply. 'He should have taken my word - believed what / told him. But if he has so little trust that he can believe I would have done such a despicable thing as - as—'
'As I did?' Anton said.
She nodded and turned away, too full of bitterness to speak. Behind her she heard him move, and though she still did not turn, she was aware that he had come to stand beside her.
'Gregory judged you harshly because he loved you,' he said softly. 'When he hears the truth from me, he'll—'
'No! You're not to go and see him. I will never forgive him for not taking my word.'
'You're only saying that because you're hurt. You'll feel differently later on. Let me tell him the truth.'
Even as he spoke he walked to the door, but her voice, quiet and firm as she called his name, made him stop. 'I don't want you to go and see him, Anton. I could never be Gregory's wife knowing he did not trust me.'
'And you can never be a dancer without him either,' Anton replied.
'Yes, I can,' she said firmly. 'I'll prove it If it takes me the rest of my life.'
‘You won't succeed.'
'I will' She moved over to the fireplace. ‘But there's one thing you must promise me.'
'Anything,' Anton said, his voice suddenly vibrant again. 'I'll do anything you say, Melanie.'
Then don't ever speak to me of love. I'm a dancer, and on the stage I will be your partner. But there can be nothing more between us - ever.'
'I understand.' The words were soft as a sigh, and the closing of the door was their final echo.
Forced for a second time to put Gregory out of her life, ballet once again became Melanie's chief comfort. Within a week of their return from New York they opened their new season, and from then on she was allowed little time for idleness, for when she was not dancing, she was rehearsing, and when she was doing neither she was surrounded by interviewers and reporters.
No longer could Verenskaya complain that she was not helping the company get publicity, Melanie thought one night as, exhausted from a performance of Giselle followed by a hectic party at the Savoy, she collapsed on her bed. Indeed if she continued at this pace she might even have Verenskaya ordering her to rest! The idea of this happening was so uncharacteristic of the woman that Melanie laughed, and the laughter grew louder and louder until her entire body was shaken with hysterical mirth.
By the time she had gained control of herself she was shivering with fright and, huddled against the pillows, she realized how near to breaking point she was, and wondered how much longer she would be able to stand the pace she was setting herself.
Next morning at the theatre Anton came into the rehearsal room with a large folder of drawings and swatches of material: suggestions from the costume designer for the new ballet
Theseus in the Cretan Bullring to which Anton was now putting the final touches.
'I'd like you to look at these when we break for coffee,' he laid to Melanie.
'I can look at them now,' she replied, and followed him over to a corner of the room.
He spread out the designs on a chair and draped the samples of fabric over the back. 'Don't bother with all the drawings,' he said. 'Just concentrate on yours and mine. I want to make sure you like them.'
There was a deference in his voice to which, by now, she should have grown accustomed. Yet it reminded her of the guilt he felt towards her, and she knew that if she herself could not forget Gregory, Anton would never be able to forget that he had been the one to part them.
'If you like the costumes,' she said quickly, I'm sure they'll be all right.'
'But at least look at them!' He lifted up one drawing and held it in front of her.
'No, not now. I'm too tired.'
The Anton of old would have argued with her, but the new Anton merely nodded and watched in silence as she walked away from him to the far side of the room.
But even at the barre Melanie did not have peace for long, for within a few moments the familiar sound of Verenskaya's cane announced the woman's approach.
'What do you think of the designs?' the familiar, heavy accented voice asked.
'I didn't look at them. I was too tired.'
'I am not surprised. It was four o'clock this morning before you came home.'
Melanie looked up from the barre, startled. 'Did you hear me?'
'Not when you come in; but only afterwards…’
With colour flooding her cheeks, Melanie turned her head away. 'I haven't cried for weeks,' she said defensively.
'Not aloud,' came the answer. 'But inside you have been crying since Gregory left you.'
'Can we change the subject?'
'Only if you can change the way you are living. You cannot go on like this any longer, my child. There are dark circles under your eyes and the dressmaker has told me this is the third time this month that she has had to take in your costumes.'
The material keeps stretching.'
'In all your clothes? Rubbish!' A bony hand caught Melanie's arm. 'You are not to do any more morning rehearsal’. The afternoon practice will be quite enough for you.'
‘But I'm rehearsing for the Gala,' Melanie protested.
Verenskaya rubbed her hands across the top of her cane. 'I was forgetting the Royal Gala. Very well. You may rehearse all day - but only until the Gala is over. After that, you must take a holiday.'
'I don't need one. I'm perfectly all right.'
‘No one who turns down a holiday is perfectly all right!' came the majestic reply. ‘No, child, you will listen to me. After the Command Performance you must go away, I will let Anna go with you if you wish.'
‘You're very kind,' Melanie said tremulously, and then fearing she would burst into tears if the conversation were prolonged, conce
ntrated on her exercises.
As the night of the Gala drew near, Verenskaya became as ruthless as Anton in her demands on the Company, and the suggestion that Melanie should not work so hard seemed totally forgotten.
Yet though Melanie's thoughts were occupied with the coming show, at night sleep still continued to elude her, and daily she grew thinner, her eyes becoming larger and more deeply shadowed, until she began to wonder where she would find the strength to keep her going. Yet she could not give up now. When the Gala was over, she would accept Verenskaya's offer and go away on a holiday with Anna. Suddenly the thought of long, idle days on a sun-washed beach became her idea of heaven and, with sweat pouring down her body as she rehearsed and practised and rehearsed again, she counted the days until she would be free.
On the day before the Gala, Verenskaya ordered a full-scale dress rehearsal and, because of it, said there would be no morning practice for anyone. With her mind now resolutely fixed on a holiday, Melanie decided to use the unexpected free time to replenish her wardrobe and she spent several hours in Fortnum's indulging in an unusual spending spree, not only ordering beachwear for herself but also for Anna.
She had just given her name and account number to the assistant when a waft of perfume made her stiffen like a dog smelling an unexpected and frightening odour, and even as she turned she braced herself for the sight of Lydia Fenwick's face.
As always the girl was beautifully groomed, and this time she looked lovelier than ever in a beautifully-tailored linen suit of the same warm, creamy gold as her skin. The wide eyes, always so innocent, now held sparks of spite though the voice, as ever, was beautifully modulated.
'I thought I recognized you, Melanie,' Lydia said, and glanced at the pile of goods on the counter. 'Shopping for a honeymoon?' 'I'm going on holiday after the Gala.'
'Of course, you're dancing for the Royals! I keep forgetting how famous you've become. You really have done fantastically well since you were - since the old days.’
‘When I was a chorus-girl?' Melanie said bluntly, and had the pleasure of seeing Lydia change colour. 'Don't look so surprised at my remembering. You surely weren't stupid enough to think that dying your hair from blonde to red would stop me from recognizing you as the girl who ruined my marriage to Timothy?’
Roberta Leigh - My Hearts a Dancer Page 20