Falkone's Promise

by Rebecca Flanders

  Dawn managed, ‘Please, Maggie ...’

  But that would not do. She insisted, ‘The darkroom. Do you really think he had it installed for only that one use? No, it was for you, because he knew—he thought—you would stay. And getting you those extra two weeks in the islands—oh, yes, I know all about that! Did you know you could get married in two weeks with a special licence?’

  Now Dawn turned to look at her, shock and incredulity and pain bare on her face. And her mind kept echoing, Even then ... even then, before he said a word to me, before I guessed ... It was with a strange spiralling mixture of pain and joy as she realised that even then he had loved her as she had loved him. But then it was an abrupt downward plunge as she remembered what had happened between then and now. And no, not love. He had never said a word about love.

  She managed, in a remarkably even tone, ‘Maggie, you shouldn’t be telling me these things.’

  ‘I know,’ Maggie admitted miserably. ‘And I’m the worst sort of woman for doing it, but I couldn’t let you go—without knowing! I swear to you, Dawn, he’s my brother and I know him, and I’ve never known him feel for a woman the way he felt for you. Hilary...’ She gave a negligent turn of her wrist. ‘They grew up together; they were old friends; it was expected. There was no—excitement there. She never caused him to change. And, except for the anger, it was no great loss to him when she left. But you...’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘You can’t imagine what he’s been like since you left. You see, he took a great risk with you, and Byron is not known for taking risks. All this in two weeks—he’s never been impulsive before, but he was that sure of you, of what he felt for you, and in a simple matter of a fortnight he knew he wanted you for his wife. When you left, he lost heavily. He’s been—I can’t explain it—like a madman. First Hilary, which was simply a matter of principle, and then you—a matter of the heart. It’s almost more than I could expect him to stand.’

  Dawn did not know what to say. Her hands, clasped tightly together under the table, were shaking, and the tremors were beginning to creep up her arms. She could not tell Maggie why, but she could not except any of what she was saying. No matter how much she wanted to.

  Maggie said, ‘If only you’d come back with me ... I know something must have happened between the two of you, some misunderstanding, and if only you would see him once more, I’m certain it could all be cleared up.’

  Dawn shook her head firmly, automatically. ‘No—misunderstanding. Nothing that could be cleared up.’ But if there were a magic wand someone could wave in the air and take back the night of the festival when two people had walked into a room and not come out ... If there were some potion someone could sprinkle over her to make her forget, if only she could find a way to forgive that one failing, that one broken promise...

  But it was the most important promise of all. ‘Oh, there you are.’ They looked up to see Thomas Mann coming towards them, smiling pleasantly at Maggie. ‘I thought perhaps you’d gone up to your room.’

  Although Maggie obviously resented the interruption, she hid it with grace. ‘Thomas, you remember Miss Morrison? Thomas came over on the ferry with me. We’ll be going back right after the ceremony.’

  ‘Of course I remember Miss Morrison!’ He bent over her hand and Dawn invited him to be seated. ‘This,’ he smiled to Maggie as he pulled up a chair, ‘is the young lady to whom you were telling me we owe all our good fortune.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m glad to have the opportunity to thank you.’

  Dawn smiled stiffly, her head still reeling with the new discoveries Maggie had unleashed about Byron, her chest still aching with the awful pain. And now she must sit and be polite to this veritable stranger, and pretend that nothing was amiss. She said, ‘I think Maggie is exaggerating. All I did was express an opinion, and it was the same one I’m sure Byron had heard many times before. I’m glad to see that he made the right decision.’

  He said, ‘We all are. Oh, it’s not as though I would have missed the money, you understand—in fact, it would have been Byron who would have taken the loss. But I’ve grown to love the place, and I have a real personal feeling for the business, and I would have missed it. It would have been a great shame to see an old friendship and a good partnership break up over something like that.’ Again, Dawn smiled politely.

  He chuckled. ‘He kept me hanging on until the last minute, though, that he did. He had me waiting in the office, wearing out the carpet, on the night of the festival—that’s when the contract was due to expire, you know, at midnight that night. And I do swear, it was on the very stroke of midnight that he walked in with Hilary, just as casual as you please, and announced that we hadn’t much to negotiate, after all...’

  Dawn looked up. ‘Midnight? The night of the festival?’ Her heart was beginning to pound with an awful fear. Perhaps she had misunderstood. Surely, dear heavens, she had not heard correctly? She had to say it. ‘But I saw Byron about that time, and he was nowhere near the office.’

  He looked confused, as though wondering what possible difference Byron’s whereabouts at that particular hour could make to her. She had spoiled his story. Then he said, ‘Oh, you must mean the lower-floor office. Goodness me, no, with all that racket going on down there we couldn’t have heard ourselves think! No, we used his private study, on the upper floor. That must have been where you saw him.’

  Dawn went pale, and the back of her mind picked up on his jocular words as he continued with his story, ‘I don’t believe any of us left that room before the crack of dawn, talking and celebrating ... just like old times. Yes, it was, just like old times...’

  Dawn felt limp, wrung out, totally incapable of movement or speech or even thought. And her mind kept echoing, Oh no, oh no ... What had she done?

  Two old friends, apologising after an argument, with their arms about one another. Byron could never say anything without touching; it was his way, it did not necessarily mean what it could appear to. It was her wretched suspicious mind, her refusal to trust anyone, which had turned an innocent office into a bedroom, a business meeting into an assignation. No need now to try to justify it, no need to think rationalisation could make it different, for she had done it, it was unforgivable, but she had done it, sacrificed the man she loved and the entire rest of her life to one insane, jealous moment.

  And Byron. Oh, Byron ... What must he be thinking of her now? The darkroom, the scheme with her editor, a little ring woven of straws ... And she was gone without explanation or apology. How hateful she had been that last morning! How unfeeling, in her own imagined pain, to his hurt. She could not think of the role she had acted on that day without a bitter taste rising to her mouth. But over that was the astonishment and confusion on Byron’s face—she had mistaken it for a disgusting sophistication, and in fact it was genuine innocence. What did he think of her? Exactly what she had wanted him to think, that she was as heartless and flirtatious as she had imagined him to be, that all along she had been playing a game while he was deadly serious. And how she had wronged him!

  She did not think she could ever face him again, but she knew she must. She knew he did not want her, and rejection, above all things, was what she had throughout her life most feared. But she must somehow find the courage to face him, and to give him an explanation. It was a shameful, implausible, inexcusable explanation, but it must be done.

  ‘Maggie.’ She did not realise she had interrupted a conversation until they both turned to look at her. ‘I was thinking ... did you say you were going back tonight?’

  ‘That’s right,’ answered Maggie curiously.

  She glanced down at her hands in her lap which, when she unclasped them, bore red marks from the imprint of her fingers. ‘Well—’ she took a breath, and tried to force casualness into her tone, ‘I was thinking. There are a few more shots of the island I’d like to get, and the forecast is clear for tomorrow. Do you think I could go back with you, after all?’

  The relief that spread over Maggie’s face was wonderfu
l to see. ‘Of course! Of course you can!’ Dawn did not try to deceive herself into thinking she would find that same welcome on Byron’s face.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dawn took only an overnight bag, and when they arrived at the island just before ten o’clock she said a quiet goodnight to Maggie and crept upstairs to her room like a thief. There was no sign of Byron, and if she could postpone it only for a few more hours, if she could wait until morning to confront him, maybe her sinking courage would be restored.

  She was swept by pathos as she entered the room which felt like home to her. Here she had lain so many nights dreaming of a dark, impenetrable man of unbounded passions and unimagined depth. She walked over to the window where once she had leaned out and heard a serenade, looked over the garden with hot memories of unbridled lust and a near escape. She turned back into the room and began to undress slowly. And here, in this room, she had opened the door and seen Byron with another woman, here she had lain awake until dawn, listening, torturing herself with dark imaginings ...

  She was foolish to have come. How could she face the hurt and accusation in his eyes again? What could she say to him? How could she ask him to forgive her for something for which she could not even forgive herself?

  She drew a filmy blue robe over her slip and sat down to unpin her hair. She could not go to bed just yet.

  The door opened suddenly and she whirled with a little gasp of alarm, drawing the inadequate bit of nylon together over her slip, letting the hairpins drop from her fingers. Byron stood there, his face dark and forbidding, and she cried, ‘Don’t you knock?’ before she realised that was not the way she had meant to begin this unwanted interview.

  Byron stepped inside, but left the door open behind him. ‘Maggie told me you were here,’ he said. ‘But I had to see for myself.’ His lips twisted into a slight sneer. ‘Come back for more of the same, my dear? Fun and games? Well, perhaps you won’t like playing by my rules for a change!’

  She rose to meet him, every muscle in her body quivering, but she hid it effectively. She said calmly, ‘I came to explain.’

  ‘Explain?’ He wandered over to the dressing table, moving like a graceful, powerful animal in his black denim jacket and white shirt, standing only inches from her now as he casually lifted her hairbrush, examined it a moment, then set it down again. His voice was deceptively, almost frighteningly, mild. ‘I wasn’t aware that any explanations were due. I thought you made yourself abundantly clear the morning you left.’

  Dawn took a breath, and when she turned to face him she had to take a step backwards for his alarming nearness. ‘Byron, I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do...’

  He gave a short, ugly bark of laughter. ‘How very generous of you! Oh, yes, my love, I discover new and delightful things about you every day. First it’s merely that you’re a flirt and a tease, then that you’re a first-class actress and tremendous liar, and now, that you possess a heart that’s as generous as your little mind is devious!’ He flung himself into a chair and fastened a menacing, glittering gaze on her. ‘Pray, enlighten me further! One day I shall be able to boast that I’ve been had by a mistress of the art, and I wouldn’t want to overlook any of the intriguing details of your sordid little character!’

  She felt her cheeks begin to tingle beneath the lashing, but she would not buckle. She deserved the worst he was thinking, and more. If only once, she thought a little desperately, he had been gentle with me. If only once I’d known that kindness from him that I could try to latch on to, and discover again ... perhaps this wouldn’t be so hopeless. But now whatever passion he had felt for her had turned to hatred, and there was no way to reach him, no way at all. Only honour demanded that she try.

  She said swiftly, ‘Byron, I came to apologise.’

  He lifted an eyebrow with infuriating mockery. ‘Now, that’s a new twist. Very well, I’m intrigued. Apologise. Let’s begin with the first time you came on to me, there in the woods on the day you arrived...’

  That was too much. ‘How can you say that?’ she cried. ‘You know I didn’t—’

  A cool tilt of his head, and she knew he had baited her. ‘Very well,’ he continued with a dismissing flick of his wrist. ‘Your conscience won’t take you back that far, I see. Let’s skip right over the many times you lured me to the brink of your bed and then slammed the door in my face. Let’s not mention the night you lay in my arms and whispered tearful words about “promises” and “for ever”. Would you like to talk about what you did when you finally tricked me into offering those promises? Now that should be interesting!’

  Hot tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. ‘I did not trick you!’

  He folded his arms, sat back and waited.

  Dawn continued shakily, ‘I—never tried to trick you. I—never wanted anything from you but what you were willing to give, freely—’

  Byron laughed harshly. ‘That’s priceless!’ Suddenly he stood and crossed the room to the window. ‘That is really priceless, because I told myself the same thing about you. But there are many ways a woman can use a man, my dear, and you know them all. Even now...’ he turned with a sharp gesture towards her, ‘you can’t resist standing there half dressed, tempting me with that incredibly sensuous little body of yours, hoping— what? That for once I’ll take you whether you’re willing to give or not? That my honour will have flown the same course as yours?’ His eyes raked her bitterly up and down. ‘That would be your final power over me, wouldn’t it? And that’s why you’ve come back! Well, my love...’ with a violent gesture, he moved past her towards the door, ‘that’s one trap into which I refuse to step.’

  ‘Byron, wait!’

  To her surprise, he turned, his eyes lashing fury, and involuntarily she shrank back. He had her where he wanted her, humiliated, broken, defenceless. And she could not protest any of it. Still, she made a feeble try. ‘I’m only—dressed this way because you burst in here without knocking, and—and I’ll change if you want, only give me a chance to talk to you!’

  He leaned against the wall, folding his arms and crossing his legs at the ankles, fixing a mirthless smile on his features. ‘That should be interesting,’ he said. ‘The changing process, not the conversation. I really can’t imagine that you could have anything left to say to me which could possibly hold my attention for more than a few seconds at the outside. I’ve heard it all.’

  She turned away and pressed her hands to her face to try to forcefully push back tears, all but defeated. ‘I never imagined you would make this easy for me,’ she managed thickly, at last. ‘But once—you trusted me enough to ask me to be your wife. Isn’t there—enough of that left for you to give me a few more minutes ... to explain...’

  ‘Trust,’ Byron said softly, after a moment. ‘Now there’s a word that interests me. Very often misused, very often misplaced. Very well. Go on, I’m listening.’

  But Dawn found, after all, that she could not look at him. She twisted her hands together before her, and in the window she could see her own reflection in the bright lamplight. Her face was white and drawn, one side of her hair released, the other still held by pins. Her white lace slip was only partially covered by the flowing robe, and her chest, bared by the parting of the robe at the throat, was rapidly rising and falling with the tightness of her breath. Over her shoulder was Byron, still lounging against the wall in his black-and-white elegance, waiting.

  She said in a small voice, ‘That night ... of the festival—I could hardly believe it when you said—what you did. You were so—matter-of-fact, and—you never mentioned one word about—love.’ In the window, she saw him scowl. He uncrossed his ankles and stood up straighter, poised, waiting.

  ‘I never expected it, you see,’ she continued, and found the courage to turn to face him. ‘I thought you were only amusing yourself—’

  ‘You thought I—!’ he interrupted in incredulous anger, but she held up a hand in a weak plea for silence.

  ‘And then, later, that n
ight...’ This was the worst part. The awful, humiliating part when she must admit to him her foolishness, her rashness of assumption, her suspicious nature. She finished in a rush, ‘I saw you and Hilary come upstairs and go into one of the bedrooms and I thought ... I thought—’

  Slowly, understanding dawned in his face. Understanding and amazement and swift anger. ‘You thought I went from you to her?’

  Before she could answer he was beside her, grasping her wrist with a force that made her cry out in alarm. He half pulled, half dragged her across the room and through the door, down the corridor a few steps to another door, which he flung open, shoving her inside. His hand hit the wall with a reverberating force and the little room sprang into brilliant light. ‘Is this it?’ he demanded. ‘Is this the bedroom you saw me enter with Hilary?’

  She stood there, blinking in the sudden light, shaking and unable to protest, at that moment, that there was no need for him to show her. It was a small room, strictly utilitarian, crowded with a desk, a bookshelf and filing cabinets. Not even a sofa or a divan to relieve its spartan decor. ‘Oh yes,’ Byron continued sarcastically, ‘it was a night of unforgettable passion—if one is prepared to overlook the fact that that stone floor was uncommonly cold, and Thomas Mann stood over my shoulder every moment, pestering me about contracts ... Dawn Morrison, you’re a fool!’

  It was more than she could bear, the disgust in his voice, the unvarnished evidence of her cruel mistake confronting her on every side. ‘I know,’ she whispered, pressing her knuckles to one cheek to staunch the trickle of a tear there. ‘I know...’