'I hardly think you are qualified to show sanctimonious outrage, Felix,' Frances ground out between clenched teeth. Anger was her only weapon against such biting scorn. It cut through the numbness and leaden ache that had descended upon her.
'I don't play around with married women. I keep to the rules and no one gets hurt.'
She almost laughed aloud. No one gets hurt! She wrenched herself away and ran towards the bathroom door. In a few strides he had cut her off.
'Where the hell do you think you're going?' Felix demanded savagely.
'Anywhere away from you,' she returned wildly. 'Close the door behind you when you go out!'
'I haven't finished with you yet. You're staying right here.' Their eyes locked in a battle of wills. 'Even if I have to use force,' he added grimly.
Frances glared, chest rising and falling rapidly, chin high and cheeks bright red with rage. 'I can quite believe that! God Almighty Felix Ravenscar must have his say! Very well, as I have no choice in the matter I'll stay, but I'll never forgive you, Felix. You'll regret this day and when you leave I never want to see you again in my life!' She swung round and abruptly seated herself. 'Well?'
Felix stared at her and then walked to the window to stand frowning out for a few moments. 'How often have you been seeing him?' he demanded at last, turning to face her.
She raised her brows. 'Why don't you ask Mark?' she taunted, 'Or doesn't he know that dear brother-in-law is keeping tabs on him?' She watched with pleasure his face darken and a nerve jump in his cheek. 'No, of course he doesn't know,' she added scornfully.
'I wouldn't need to ask the question, would I ? So far as I was concerned the affair between you was finished when he went to Edinburgh, and Jess joined him there.'
Frances leaned forward, eyes widening. 'It was you! You got him that job!' She gave a short laugh. 'That's another thing I don't suppose Mark's going to be very pleased about.' She gave an eloquent shrug. 'What are you going to do now? Smack his bottom and tell him to be a good boy and run home to wifey? What a dutiful brother wifey has!' and her voice was full of sarcastic wonderment.
There was an ominous silence, and then: 'Jessica doesn't know about you and won't know, unless you force my hand. Regarding Chichester, I merely made enquiries. If you thought you were being discreet I'm sorry to disappoint you. I baited the Edinburgh hook, certainly, though he need not have snapped at it. . . but actors tend to be ruthless where their careers are concerned, and I made sure the bait was a juicy one.'
Frances turned her face away and drew a hand over her eyes. She could, she supposed, tell him now that it was she who had left Chichester first, but what was the point? He wouldn't in all probability believe her. The only person who perhaps he would believe was Mark, and even then it wasn't certain, and she couldn't do that to Mark. She couldn't hurt his pride or his new-found happiness by bringing the whole business of Felix's involvement to light. And did it matter what Felix Ravenscar thought of her? She was nothing to him . . . and he was nothing to her!
She lifted her head and said steadily: 'How do you expect to stop Mark from seeing me, Felix? I'm most intrigued.'
Felix looked coldly at her. 'I have no intention of stopping him. I'm not a fool. If Mark's weak enough to keep on with this affair then Jessica is better off without him . . . rather than share him with a two-faced bitch like you.' He smiled. 'You don't like that, do you, Frances? Well, I'm afraid the "other woman" has to put up with such labels however much they offend her sense of dignity.' He shrugged. 'But I believe Mark is really in love with Jess and only infatuated with you, and once the child comes . . ." He allowed the unfinished sentence to speak for itself, adding slowly: 'Now that you know your little game is out in the open, to me at least, you might consider Mark is not worth it.'
Frances looked at him sharply. 'And just what do you mean by that? It sounds very much like a threat.'
He gave a thin smile. 'It's only a threat if you're not sensible. If I find that you do anything silly, like obtaining work where Mark is, then I shall make life very difficult for you professionally. Your future could be limited.' He raised his brows. 'You hadn't thought of that? How naive of you!'
Frances thrust herself from the chair, arms clasped round her body as if she were cold. Moving to the mantelpiece she took a cigarette from the box and lit it with trembling hands. She rarely smoked, but had she not done something at that moment she would have hit him—and in the state he was in, he would surely have hit her back, she had no illusions about Felix Ravenscar.
Thank you for warning me.' She inhaled slowly, trying for composure. 'I suppose that was why you were so angry, the night of your mother's birthday ? You thought I was worming my way into the family circle because of Mark! It must have been a relief when you realised that I didn't know the connection. I must say you covered up very well, but you're something of an actor yourself, aren't you, Felix?' She gave a short, bitter laugh. 'Everything is beginning to make sense now. I always knew there was a reservation …
'And you almost had me fooled. I began to think that my informant had got Chichester all wrong,' Felix said impatiently. 'Shows what a clever girl you are, doesn't it?'
'It must do, to almost fool the experienced Felix Ravenscar,' retorted Frances, stubbing out her cigarette. 'I'm glad I had the chance, it was quite amusing at times.' She thought she had gone too far and hurried on quickly: 'I think you'd better go now. You've had your say.'
'I'll go when I'm ready, and not before,' he announced grimly, and moved to stand a yard away, hands on hips, stance quietly menacing. 'Naturally we shall not expect you this evening, or any other evening. I'll make your abject apologies to my mother and you'll fade out of her life, do you understand? Any gratitude we felt about the way you helped her is now wiped clean. Allowable, I think you'll agree, when you realise that you are a threat to her daughter and unborn grandchild. I shouldn't like to have to tell her the sort of person you really are, but I shall do so if you force my hand.'
This was too much! Frances had come to care and respect Lady Ravenscar . . .
'You know nothing about me, Felix, nothing!' she burst out passionately, her face white with anguish. 'In your arrogance you think you do, but you don't!'
I know you're a very beautiful and dangerous woman . . .' he responded savagely, pulling her roughly to him and bringing his mouth down on hers.
When Frances was able to wrench her mouth away, she gasped: 'Damn you, Felix, let me go or I'll. . .'
'That act you put on about Corfu was quite impressive . . .'
'That rankles, doesn't it?' she ground out in rage, struggling ineffectively to free herself. 'The fact that I didn't jump at the chance of being your latest paramour must have been a shock to your inflated ego! Let me tell you, Felix, that. . .'
'I'm sure Mark wouldn't mind sharing, if that's what's worrying you."
She wrenched a hand free and brought the palm across the side of his face with a stinging slap. All movement was suspended.
Their eyes held and then Felix smiled and when he spoke his voice was lazily insolent.
'I still find you desirable, and you feel the same way about me, whatever else you may say, my dear Frances.'
'I feel only loathing for you,' she whispered, tears of helpless anger glistening on her lashes.
He let her go. 'I expect you do. No one likes being found out, do they? Just remember what I've said, for your own sake.'
"Remember?' She gave a harsh laugh. 'Don't worry, I shall never forget what you've said, Felix, never.' Her eyes flashed as she added grimly. 'It's dangerous to play God, Felix... one day you'll find that out.'
Tawny eyes held blue ones and then Felix turned on his heel and left, the front door marking the finality of it all by shutting with a decisive bang.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The antidote to unhappiness often lies in work, and Frances threw herself into the rehearsals with grim determination. The initial weeks in Leeds were hard, so that at the end of the day she w
as so tired she didn't have the energy to lie awake brooding. Gradually she regained her balance, told herself that she truly did not care what Felix thought of her, made new friends, and the wretched 'Ravenscar affair', as she found herself calling it, began to recede.
Frances was asked to stay on and she accepted with alacrity. The longer she could remain away from London the better.
Forwarded mail brought newsy letters from Zoe, whose play was now into its second year. There was also an occasional letter from Lady Ravenscar. Frances replied in her usual friendly way, leaving the period between answering a little longer each time, hoping to be able to disappear out of the scene eventually. She had no intention of accepting Lady Ravenscar's repeated invitations to visit when she returned to London, and knew that she could only end up being a disappointment, but there was nothing she could do about that.
In the middle of OctoberPenruth was screened on the television, giving Frances a certain amount of notoriety among the company at Leeds. A photograph of Felix appeared advertising the serial, together with one or two of the cast, her own ironically adjoining his.
That won't please him, Frances thought with grim humour, as she read the written interview below, her eyes going back to the photograph, so familiar to her, remembering how many times she had suppressed the urge to smooth away the tiny frown that sometimes creased his brow. Felix Ravenscar, so the caption told her, was at the moment working on a documentary programme about the people living on the island of Mull.
You can be in Timbuktu for all I care, she told the photograph bitterly.
For she was still embittered, still deeply hurt by the harsh accusations that had been hurled at her. Admittedly, as the weeks passed, their angry final meeting faded slightly and she became more philosophical about it all. Certainly the success ofPenruth in some measure made up for the heartache. Something constructive had come out of their association.
Frances returned to London prior to Christmas, realising by the warmth of her feelings at the sight of the decorations and gaily lit shops just how glad she was to be back.
Penruth brought in gratifying offers of work, both from the theatre and television, and after careful consideration Frances accepted the part in a modern play, written especially for television by an experienced writer, and enjoyed minor praise from the critics when it was screened early in February.
During the six months since her break with Felix, Frances had been out with a number of men, but none had stirred more than friendship in her. Not for the want of trying, on both sides. More than anything, Frances wanted to throw herself into a love affair, just to show herself—what, exactly, she couldn't say . . . or wouldn't admit. And so a grand passion did not materialise. However much she willed it to, something always stopped her from becoming committed each time.
It was no surprise, therefore, when the producer of her latest play invited her to join him to attend a luncheon in honour of a well-known actor who was celebrating sixty years on the professional stage.
Knowing that she would be surrounded by representatives of all forms of entertainment, Frances looked round her with interest as she followed her escort into the banqueting hall of an exclusive London hotel. She recognised many famous faces already seated at the long tables covered with crisp white cloths and resplendently set with glass and silverware.
As she took her place at one of them, the gentlemen already there rising politely to their feet as she seated herself, one particular face stood out among all the strange ones.
Felix Ravenscar.
Frances stared, the colour coming and going in her cheeks, and her heart missed a beat as he gave a slight smile and leaned forward to take her hand.
'Hullo, Frances. How are you?'
Frances supposed she should be grateful to him for making an effort. After all, sitting with people who knew that they had worked together makingPenruth, it would have been decidedly odd had he ignored her completely!
She managed a smile in return and murmured a greeting, and then to her relief the luncheon began. The food was delicious, but her appetite had gone, so had all her excited anticipation of the event. Why should you-let Felix Ravenscar spoil things? She asked herself crossly. Ignore him! Forget him! But it was impossible for her to do so. The official speeches were amusing and in any other situation Frances would have been delighted, but she could not disassociate herself from the man sitting only a few yards away.
If she turned her head slightly she could see his hand, touching the stem of his wine glass, could see his dark head as he leaned forward as he laughed at some witticism, could hear his voice, beautiful and resonant, and all the old bitterness welled up inside her.
Frances fumed inwardly at the ill-luck that out of all the tables in the huge hall she should be placed at the same one as his! But any idea that it was a coincidence was soon dispelled by her escort, who turned to her at the end of the proceedings and said:
'If it wasn't for the fact that I owe Ravenscar a favour I should not be abandoning you to him now, believe me!" He rose and smiled down at her, curiosity alive in his eyes. 'He was most insistent that I should disappear at the first convenient opportunity, but I want you to know that I'm doing so with reluctance.'
Frances, the colour rising in her cheeks, said incoherently :
'There's no need, surely, for you to go . . .' and stopped when she saw her escort's raised brows.
My dear girl, Ravenscar's not a man to treat lightly, you know. You've worked with him once and it's obvious he's interested in using you again. Take advantage of the opportunity—and good luck!' and although greatly intrigued by the lengths to which Felix Ravenscar had engineered this meeting, he placed a hand briefly on her shoulder and then made his way across the hall to mingle with a group of guests just leaving.
Their table was now almost empty, the only other occupants being at the far end, and Frances turned to face him.
'I don't understand any of this,' she told him stonily.
'I know you don't. May I.
'Had I known it was at your instigation I wouldn't have come.'
'I know that too, hence the subterfuge. You won't have wasted your time, however. To be sitting at the same table as four established directors, two eminent actors and a playwright can't do you any harm . . . and the food was good and the speeches amusing.' His voice was all reasonableness.
'Agreed, and I could perhaps have enjoyed the occasion under different circumstances,' she informed him bitterly.
Felix shrugged. 'That, I suppose, was inevitable.'
Frances stared at him. The man's composure was unbelievable ! He could remember their last angry meeting and 'suppose' she found his company objectionable! And the fact that she had been manipulated into this meeting gave her a feeling of growing unease and helplessness. Such was Felix Ravenscar's position in her profession that he had a way of making things happen; he seemed even more invincible than ever, viewed after six months' absence. She sustained a swift measure of panic. Had she any control over herself or her destiny where Felix was concerned ? The thought was so alarming that she took a sharp, inward breath, and told herself not to be such an idiot. She turned to pick up her clutch bag to give herself time to calm down, but she was still aware of him, standing by her chair, and every nerve tingled at his nearness, every facet of emotion passed fleetingly through her.
'You're at liberty to leave, of course, but I hope you'll give me a few moments,' and standing aside, Felix watched her steadily as she rose to her feet.
'Oh, I'll stay. I'm curious to know what it is that's made you go to such lengths,' Frances retorted, and allowed herself to be led to the comparative seclusion of one of the adjacent lounges where they seated themselves, Felix with his back partly turned to the rest of the room. Blocking her way out? Frances wondered, with grim amusement.
'I understand that Gareth has been seeing something of your apartment mate,' he said, by way of opening the conversation between them.
'Zoe ? Why, yes, I
believe he has,' agreed Frances, and looking at him sharply, added: 'Zoe is one of the best people I know and Gareth will come to no harm from her.'
Felix quirked a brow and replied evenly: 'You're very quick to take up arms on behalf of your friend. My question was quite innocent, I assure you, and anyway, Gareth is old enough to take care of himself.'
'Really? I'm amazed you should say that—with your habit of interfering in other people's lives!' she came back sarcastically.
His lips grimaced, but he ignored the implication, merely pulled his chair round slightly to accommodate a waiter who now arrived with a tray laden with coffee things.
There was silence as this was poured out, and when the waiter left, Frances said abruptly: 'Why have you arranged this meeting, Felix?'
'Because I knew that had I phoned, or called, you would have refused to speak or see me.'
'So you contrived a situation where I was forced to speak to you. Yes, I understand all that, it has the Ravenscar touch!' she answered decisively. 'But that's not what I meant. Why do you want to speak to me at all? Didn't you say enough the last time we met? It seemed pretty conclusive to me!'
He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. 'Yes, I was quite eloquent, wasn't I? Whereas you didn't say enough.' He waited a moment. 'You know as well as I do why I want to speak to you, Frances. I want to apologize to you for that last meeting.'
Of course, he was right—there could be only one reason. During all this time it was conceivable that he should stumble across the truth and find out how wrong he had been in his assumption that she was having an affair with his brother-in-law. How many times had she enacted this scene of apology in her imagination? Had thought with relish of the exultation she would feel!
And now it was actually happening . . . and she felt nothing . . . merely a curious anticlimax, a flatness as if all feeling had completely left her. She could even view dispassionately that the apology was typical of him— controlled and almost expressionless.
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