‘I’m ready for my birthday cake, Aunty Chrissy. I’m waiting to blow the candles out,’ Kay said eagerly.
‘Then we’ll ask your daddy to light them right this minute,’ Christabel told her. ‘Would you like me to help you blow them out?’
‘Yes please.’ Kay held out her hand to Christabel who rose from her seat and went round to the other side of the table to stand behind Kay’s chair.
‘Now don’t forget that you are supposed to make a wish, Kay,’ Lewis told her as he applied a light to the five little candles and they all commented on how pretty they were as they flickered and then burned brightly.
Christabel squeezed Kay’s hand reassuringly as the five-year-old took a great big breath and then blew it out in the direction of the candles as hard as she could.
‘They’re all out,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. ‘Now can I have my wish?’
‘Your wish?’ They all looked at her uncertainly.
‘I think you are supposed to keep what you’ve wished for a secret or else it won’t happen,’ Violet explained.
‘I can’t do that or it will be too late and then it will never happen at all,’ Kay whispered, her eyes misting with tears.
‘Too late? I don’t understand what you mean by that.’ Lewis frowned.
‘Aunt Chrissy will be gone away to Switzerland and then it will never happen.’
‘Whatever do you mean, what are you trying to say?’ Violet asked, looking puzzled.
Kay took hold of Christabel’s hand and then reached up and pulled her face closer so that she could whisper in her aunt’s ear. ‘I want you to give me your pretty headband, Aunt Chrissy, so that I can wear it to remind me of you all the time you are away,’ she said with a tremulous smile.
Chapter Eleven
There were times when Fiona Gleeson behaved as if she was nine rather than nineteen, Christabel thought as, half asleep, she struggled into her dressing gown and padded into the adjoining room to see why, yet again, Fiona was ringing the bell for her.
She even looks like a spoilt child, Christabel reflected, as she regarded the willowy figure propped up in the four-poster bed, clutching an oversized golden-furred teddy bear to her chest. Fiona’s straight blond hair fanned out over the mountain of lace-edged pillows like an exotic shawl, framing the girl’s delicate features.
‘Fiona, did you ring?’ Christabel asked, smothering a yawn and running a hand over her own ruffled hair in a vain attempt to smooth it back into its sleek bob.
‘You know I did; you weren’t still asleep, were you? It has been light for ages and ages!’ The silver-blue eyes were accusing, the pale lips petulant. Two bright spots of feverish colour pinpointed her cheekbones.
‘Yes, I was asleep,’ Christabel admitted. ‘After all,’ she added, ‘I have been up twice during the night to attend to you.’
‘Well, that’s what you are here for,’ Fiona said petulantly.
Christabel smiled patiently but said nothing.
When she had first applied for the job of looking after Fiona, only daughter of Sir Henry and Lady Margaret Gleeson, it had sounded enchanting.
There would be snow, blue skies, sunshine and a crystal-clear, sparkling atmosphere. She’d be living in a luxury chalet-style house overlooking a picturesque village bright with flowers. It was a popular resort for wealthy people who could afford to indulge in their enjoyment of skiing and tobogganing.
Fiona’s parents had painted such an idyllic picture that she’d had no hesitation about accepting the post. After the tension-wrought atmosphere at home it had sounded like the perfect solution.
St Moritz was every bit as enchanting as the Gleesons had predicted. It had been chosen as the most suitable place for Fiona’s recuperation, not only because it was considered to be the finest of the Alpine resorts, but also because it was one of the main tobogganing centres, a sport in which both Fiona’s father, and her brother George, intended to participate whenever they came to visit her.
What the Gleesons had not told Christabel was that their daughter was not only an invalid, but also thoroughly spoilt and excessively demanding. She was given to tantrums when she couldn’t have her own way and this made her an extremely difficult patient.
Christabel often found herself thinking that it had been easier to control an entire ward of wounded soldiers than this one delicate-looking girl. She would have found it even more difficult if it had not been for the arrival of George Gleeson.
Fiona’s brother had been sent out by his parents to make sure that everything was all right and that Fiona had settled in, and he was to report back on her progress. He was tall and extremely handsome. He had a shock of thick fair hair, hypnotic green eyes, a deep mellifluous voice, and a bold, yet charming manner. From their very first meeting, Christabel liked him.
George was something of a disappointment to his family. Following on from Eton he’d gone to Cambridge, but in his second year there he’d been sent down after a drunken brawl. It was the end of his academic life; instead of following his father into banking, he had trained as an actor. His classical features had won him several small-time parts.
His training, however, had imbued him with a voice of such melting quality that he had only to speak her name for Fiona to listen to his advice and do what he asked of her.
Determined not to let him see how charming she thought he was, Christabel treated him with cool reserve. This, she noticed with interest, seemed to intrigue him and she sensed his visits to St Moritz were not merely to check on his sister’s health.
The visit from George had a most beneficial effect on Fiona. He insisted on taking her for a drive each day while he was staying there. Once she was warmly wrapped up in a chinchilla jacket, with a matching fur muff and an ear-hugging cloche hat, they would drive out in one of the jingling two-horse sleighs that were so popular in the resort.
George always invited Christabel to accompany them, and insisted they must stop for afternoon tea at one of the many café-restaurants. George’s gallant attentions and witty conversation would bring a sparkle to Fiona’s eyes, and even Christabel found herself smiling as he regaled them with anecdotes about his life in the acting profession.
Even so, the first time George asked if he could take her out for the evening, she demurred even though she knew she would have enjoyed the opportunity very much.
‘Why ever not? You seem to enjoy my company when we take Fiona out for a drive.’
‘Only because it’s a pleasant diversion for Fiona,’ she told him primly.
‘So don’t you think it might be an equally pleasant diversion for you if we went on our own?’ he teased, his gaze holding hers.
‘It is out of the question because Fiona is still far from well and it’s my duty to see she is never left alone.’
When he nodded in agreement with her decision, turned on his heel and walked away without another word, Christabel almost cried with vexation.
To spend an entire evening in his company, without Fiona being there with them, would have been wonderful. His dashing good looks, his charm, his manner and his voice combined to make him a most attractive man and one she wanted to get to know better.
When George returned a few minutes later to say he had arranged for the housekeeper, Madame Frederique, to remain on call that evening to attend to Fiona’s needs, Christabel stared at him in amazement, too taken aback even to thank him.
‘I’ll call for you at nine o’clock,’ George told her. ‘We’ll dine at the Carlton Casino Restaurant and then we can dance afterwards. Their orchestra plays this new jazz as well as the more conventional dances,’ he said, grinning boyishly at her.
Christabel spent the rest of the day in a state of indecision. She wondered what the Gleesons’ reaction would be if it ever reached their ears that she had left their daughter in the care of domestic staff while she went dancing with their son.
Fiona will have retired for the night long before nine o’clock, she reminded her
self, and in all probability she will be asleep before I leave with George. There’s even a chance that she won’t waken again before I return home, in which case she need never know that I have been out.
Since George is the one who has made the arrangements I am only obeying orders, she told herself. Anyway, it would be quite a long while before news of the incident could possibly reach the Gleesons’ ears, that’s if it ever did, and it would be time enough then to worry about their reaction.
Having reached a decision, she then rescheduled their normal evening routine to make sure that Fiona would be ready to retire early and, if luck was really on her side, would be asleep before George called to collect her.
Discreetly, she slipped away to the kitchen to have a word with the housekeeper about her plans. Madame Frederique, although eager to please George Gleeson, knew only too well how petulant and demanding Fiona could be and was quick to point out the hazards of their scheme.
‘Let us give her a special treat,’ she suggested, anxious to avoid any sort of confrontation. ‘What about serving supper in her room after she is in bed? I will prepare her favourite dishes, ones I know she delights in. And perhaps she could have a small glass of wine; one that will make her sleepy, yes?’
‘That sounds wonderful!’
‘And we will say nothing about you going out, eh? If she should waken, I will be on hand, and I will say you have retired early with a bad head, and that you are not to be disturbed. Yes?’
Having settled that part of the arrangement, Christabel wondered what she should wear. Knowing that her duties were to chaperone and care for a young invalid, the evening dresses she’d brought with her were restricted in colour and style, and more suitable for family dining than accompanying a handsome man to a smart restaurant
The only dress she had packed that remotely looked suitable for a dinner-dance was the pale green one with floating dark green chiffon panels that she had worn at Kay’s birthday party, but she wondered if it was rather too risqué for such an occasion.
It was either that or one of her more formal dresses, she decided, since there was no time to indulge in a shopping spree. Moreover, even if she had the opportunity, she couldn’t afford to do so.
The first part of the evening seemed endless and everything seemed to go wrong. Fiona was irritable and obstreperous. She rejected the idea of having her supper served on a tray and it took a lot of persuasion to make her change her mind.
‘Only if you stay and read to me while I eat it,’ she said, pouting.
‘Very well.’ Christabel struggled to keep her voice calm although inwardly she was feeling increasingly anxious.
Madame Frederique saved the day by producing such an appetising spread, promptly at seven o’clock, that Fiona was suddenly eager to eat. She scowled when Christabel reminded her that she was to have her supper in bed, but reluctantly gave in when Christabel remained resolute and insisted that she had to keep to their agreement.
‘You’ve not rested at all, Fiona, since we returned from our drive,’ she pointed out. ‘Tomorrow you will be too tired to go out at all.’
Fiona pouted childishly, clutching the huge teddy bear to her chest, burying her face in its soft golden fur and ignoring what Christabel was saying.
Firmly, Christabel took it from her and propped it against the pile of pillows alongside her as Madame Frederique placed the bed tray across Fiona’s lap.
The appetising food, wine and warmth of the room soon took their toll. Fiona had barely eaten the last morsel of the delicate ice cream and fruit confection, which had been made specially for her, before her eyelids were drooping and her attention was no longer on the book Christabel was reading aloud to her.
Very cautiously, Christabel removed the tray and placed it on the table by the bed, but she went on reading aloud for another few minutes until Fiona’s breathing became deep and regular. Then she closed the book, drew the covers up so that they covered Fiona’s arms and shoulders, and, picking up the tray, moved quietly from the room.
Persuading Fiona to have her supper in bed had taken far longer than Christabel had expected it to. It meant that she now had less than half an hour in which to get ready.
Even so, she felt elated by George’s reaction when she went into the sitting room where he was enjoying a sherry while he waited for her. Immaculate in evening dress, his green gaze moved appreciatively from her shining cap of hair to her high-heeled sandals and back up again with a smile of complete approval.
Christabel slipped the filmy lace shawl she was carrying round her shoulders. ‘Ready?’
He grinned. ‘Your carriage awaits!’ With an exaggerated bow he crooked his arm, so that she could slip her hand into it.
They made the short drive almost in silence. When they reached the Carlton Casino, he seemed to be both amused and delighted by her reaction, as well as by the attention they received as he escorted her inside.
Once they were seated, he ordered their food and selected the wines without deferring to her at all.
It was the first time she had been anywhere in St Moritz, apart from accompanying Fiona to look at the many exquisite shops, and she was very impressed by her surroundings. The lighting came from massive crystal chandeliers, there were heavy, loganberry-red draped curtains at the enormous windows, and the sumptuous seating was upholstered in a matching fabric. Everything blended so harmoniously that it was the perfect background for the elegant diners.
Christabel was aware that a number of the people present seemed to know George. Men acknowledged his presence with friendly nods and a number of the ladies smiled in his direction.
He responded in kind but made no move to join any of the other parties, or to introduce Christabel to anyone and, although she appreciated that she had his whole attention, it did make her feel rather like Cinderella.
When the dancing started George was on his feet at once, leading her out on to the floor. With one arm firmly round her slim waist, he guided her into the rhythm of waltz, fox-trot and polka with the ease of a skilled dancer.
To Christabel, already light-headed from the wine, it was intoxicating. She had always enjoyed dancing but she had never had such a skilled partner before. It was as if they were floating on a cushion of air, their steps faultlessly matched, and their bodies swaying in perfect unison to the music.
At any other time, she might have found the intricate jazz numbers far too complicated to follow, but, under the golden glow from the glittering chandeliers, it was as if every step she took synchronised perfectly with his.
As they circled the dance floor while the band played the final waltz, she began to wonder if Fiona was all right and to feel just a little guilty about deserting her.
When they arrived back, George ordered the driver to wait as he escorted her to the door and exchanged a few brief words with Madame Frederique, who assured him that Fiona had not awakened all evening.
After George left, when Madame Frederique insisted that she must have a glass of hot milk and some arrowroot biscuits before she retired, Christabel suspected that Madame was hoping for a detailed account of her evening’s entertainment.
Although she had never felt more alert, or so wide awake, Christabel had no intention of sharing such secrets with her. The night had been a revelation to her, and not only about George and his lifestyle; it had also made her realise how lonely she was. She desperately wanted to go to her room to analyse every minute detail of what had taken place.
Making the pretence of smothering a yawn, she took the tray from Madam Frederique’s hands and went straight to her room, not even pausing to look in on Fiona to check if she was all right.
Chapter Twelve
Christabel knew that even though the relationship between her and George was purely platonic, keeping it hidden from Fiona was not going to be easy even though they both agreed that it seemed to be the sensible thing to do.
Fiona led such a sheltered existence that she was alert to even the slightest chan
ge in the daily pattern of what was going on around her. Three weeks later, when they’d returned from one of their afternoon drives, and George had asked her if she would like to go out with him again that evening, Christabel was aware that Fiona was listening to their conversation and she felt uneasy.
A few minutes later, when Fiona challenged them about what she and George had been whispering about, Christabel realised that her hesitation and their surreptitious exchange of glances had alerted Fiona that there really was something between them that she knew nothing about.
Fiona did not pursue the subject, but Christabel knew her well enough to realise that her curiosity had been aroused and that she probably wouldn’t let the matter drop until she had ferreted out the whole story.
Before George left, he found the opportunity to tell Christabel that he had made the same arrangements as before and that Madame Frederique was happy to look after Fiona that evening as she had done on the previous occasion.
Christabel felt uncertain about whether or not to go through with it. She enjoyed his company and appreciated that he accepted that she didn’t want any involvement other than their being good friends. When she tried to explain her misgivings to George, however, he became annoyed and dismissed her worries about leaving Fiona knowing they were socialising together as ridiculous.
‘All we do is eat, talk and dance together, so what harm is there in that, for goodness’ sake?’
‘None whatsoever, and I very much enjoy your company,’ she admitted.
‘Good, because I enjoy yours. It’s refreshing to find an attractive girl who is a good listener. It must be your guilty conscience,’ he teased.
‘There’s nothing for me to have a guilty conscience about since we’ve both agreed we are simply good friends and we both want it to remain that way. As I’ve already said, it’s leaving Fiona which is worrying me. Supposing she is taken ill while we are out and I’m not there to look after her?’
Whispers of Love Page 9