During the following two weeks Laura sat for Alex every morning, except weekends, and during those morning sessions she began to look upon him as a friend. He made her laugh a lot, which was something she had not done for a long time, but most of all those hours spent with him in his improvised studio made her forget temporarily that Anton was almost constantly in Camilla's company. She was intensely curious, however, to see the painting, but Alex was adamant. 'No one sees it until it's completed,' he had said, and she had left it at that.
'Loosen your hair,' he told her when she came for one of her last sittings. 'I want to concentrate on your features this morning.'
Laura did as she was told, and drew it forward across her shoulder as he instructed, 'Is this how you want it?'
'That's just fine,' he said, eyeing her critically before he set to work. 'How's the merry widow?'
'I beg your pardon?' she asked, glancing at him blankly.
'Look out of the window,' he ordered sharply, and when she had done so, he explained, 'I'm talking about the luscious Countess von Dissel. Have you seen her lately?'
Her eyes clouded. 'No.'
'She's a thorn in your side, isn't she?'
'Yes,' Laura admitted, bitterness welling up inside her.
'How does your husband feel about her?'
'He thinks her charming, and poised, and very beautiful, naturally,' she said tritely, driving the sword into her own heart with every painful word she uttered.
'Old love dies hard, they say,' Alex observed dryly.
'Yes.' The sword twisted, adding to her suffering.
'Did you marry him for your niece's sake?'
Startled, she asked, 'What on earth makes you think that?'
'People talk,' Alex said absently. 'You know how it is.'
A look of distaste crossed her face. 'You shouldn't lend out your ears to gossip, Alex.'
'I don't usually, but when it's about someone I admire and respect very much, then I can't help listening and wondering,' he explained calmly, almost casually. 'You're not happy, I know that, and if those rumours are true…'
He left his sentence unfinished, and Laura stared thoughtfully at the ever-changing face of the sea for a time before she sighed audibly. 'I hardly know you, Alex, but for some reason I like you, and trust you.'
'What you're actually trying to tell me is that those rumours are true.'
It was a statement, not a question, and she nodded slightly. 'Yes, they're true.'
His shrewd glance observed her for a moment across the easel. 'Am I right in suspecting you've fallen in love with your husband?'
'You're very astute,' she smiled, but her smile was tinged with sadness.
'As an artist I have to be,' he stated calmly, and worked on in silence for several minutes before he asked, 'Does he know how you feel about him?'
'No.'
'Don't you think it would make a difference if he knew?'
'It would make matters worse, and besides…' Laura paused, her eyes darkening with pain, 'what chance do I have against someone as beautiful as Camilla?'
'You must credit your husband with some sense, Laura,' Alex said in a faintly reprimanding voice. 'He's not an imbecile.'
'I never said be was, but—'
'Isn't he worth fighting for?' Alex interrupted.
'Oh, Alex…' she laughed, but her laughter was laced with bitterness. 'I'm way out of my depth, and I know it. I always thought that loving someone came simply and naturally, but instead I find myself in a situation where I feel like a novice playing a game without knowing the rules. It's like being on a battlefield with everyone shouting "Fight, fight!" but there are no weapons about.'
'You have the strongest weapon in your possession,' Alex told her, and when she ventured a curious glance in his direction, he added: 'Love.'
'Love?' she repeated stupidly.
'Do you think the Countess is really capable of offering him a deep, abiding love which is as unselfish and undemanding as yours?' A disparaging sound passed his lips before he continued. 'She's a cold fish, Laura. Her love could be measured by a man's bank balance, and if that should ever dwindle, then so would her love—and very quickly too, I might add.'
Laura did not doubt the validity of that statement, but at that moment there was something more important to consider, and she grimaced as she said: 'I think I'm developing a cramp.'
'Take a break,' he said at once, putting down his brushes and palette. 'I'll make us a pot of tea.'
Laura stretched her legs and arched her back, then she walked across to the window and stared down into the street below. The traffic never ceased, and neither did the noise, but beyond it lay the ocean, calm and untroubled with the waves washing out on to the rocky beach in an almost leisurely fashion. If only her life could be as calm and untroubled as the sea that morning, she thought with a sigh. She had confided in Alex more than she had done with anyone else, and it had been a relief to talk about it, but she had still come no nearer to finding a solution. There was no magic wand that she could wave; no instant remedy for a heart that ached for a love it could never have, and she somehow had the feeling that time was running out on her.
Her session with Alex lasted longer than usual that day, and it was almost two o'clock when she finally stepped out of the building and into the wintery sunshine.
'Well, imagine meeting you here,' a familiar voice stopped Laura in her tracks, and she turned to see Camilla walking towards her. 'Have you been visiting a friend?' she asked, gesturing towards the building Laura had just left. 'Or were you hoping to discover where I lived?'
'I was visiting a friend,' Laura assured her hastily, feeling unaccountably nervous. 'If you'll excuse me, I—'
'Don't go yet.' A bejewelled hand gripped Laura's arm. 'There's a tea-room across the street, and it's time you and I had a little talk.'
'Really, Countess von Dissel, I can't think of anything you and I have in common that needs discussing.'
'It concerns Anton.'
'Anton?' Laura asked sharply, cold fear gripping her heart.
'I thought that would interest you.' Camilla smiled that humourless smile which Laura knew could only spell danger, and, releasing Laura's arm, suggested confidently, 'Shall we go?'
Laura nodded, but she knew that nothing good could come of this meeting with the beautiful Countess von Dissel, only heartache.
In the beachfront tea-room overlooking the swimming pools and rock gardens, Laura sat facing Camilla across the small table. Their tea had arrived, and Camilla had poured, but they had exchanged nothing but senseless platitudes which had only served to increase Laura's tension. 'Countess, I'm in rather a hurry, and Sally will be home soon,' Laura said eventually when she could stand it no longer. 'Shall we get to the point?'
'Very well, darling, we'll get straight to the point, as you say.' The smile of false geniality vanished, and Laura found herself staring into the cold, hard eyes of her enemy. 'I want Anton.'
Laura felt her insides lurch sickeningly, but except for a faint whiteness about her mouth, her expression remained miraculously cool and unperturbed as she said calmly, 'You should tell Anton that, not me.'
A semblance of a smile touched that hard but beautiful mouth. 'I already have, darling, but I think it's only fair that you should know about it.'
'And now that I do know, what do you expect me to do about it?'
'Leave him, or give him sufficient reason to divorce you.'
Laura drew a careful, agonising breath. 'You've discussed this with Anton?'
'Naturally.'
'And if I refuse to do as you both obviously want?'
'Darling, everyone knows you married each other for the child's sake,' Camilla laughed softly, but her laughter was venomous. 'You wouldn't want to force Anton to continue with this marriage when you know his interests are elsewhere, would you?'
'Anton is Sally's guardian, and he would never shirk his responsibilities.'
'Naturally,' Camilla smiled again, 'b
ut carrying out his responsibilities doesn't necessarily mean that he must continue with a marriage which is beginning to bore him, does it?'
He was bored with their marriage, and bored with her! Those words, like carefully directed barbs, found their mark with painful precision.
'Has he asked you to marry him?' Laura asked at length when she was able to trust her voice.
'How can he while he's still married to you?'
'He's led you to believe, though, that he wants to marry you,' Laura persisted, driving the painful barbs deeper into her own heart.
'If I didn't believe it, then I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you like this, would I?' Camilla smiled coldly, a gleam of triumph in her dark eyes as she saw the colour drain from Laura's face.
She had won, and she knew it, Laura thought as helplessness and despair settled about her like a heavy clod;. 'You have the strongest weapon in your possession,' she recalled Alex's words. Love! It was like sitting with an ace up her sleeve, but with no opportunity to play it, she realised dismally.
'Why didn't you marry Anton years ago when you had the opportunity?' she asked at last, staring down into her untouched cup of tea.
'Darling, I was young and foolish, and we'd argued. I took the argument seriously, and married Karl von Dissel on the rebound.' Camilla paused effectively, her features assuming a suitable expression of regret which lacked conviction to the discerning eye. 'It was a mistake,' she continued. 'I know that now, and I ruined the lives of three people—Karl's, Anton's, and my own.'
'And you're about to ruin mine,' the words sprang to mind, but they remained unuttered as Laura unclenched her hands in her lap and picked up her handbag. 'Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?' she asked coldly.
'No, my dear, except…' Camilla's smile was chilling… 'don't stand in the way of Anton's happiness. It would be spiteful and childish of you.'
Laura drove back to Bellavista that day in a numbed state of indecision and uncertainty. She had to think, but her brain refused to co-operate, and she spent the afternoon merely going through the motions of attending to Sally's needs.
'I'm going for a walk,' she said at last, hoping the fresh air would clear her mind and lift the veil of depression which had settled about her.
'But it's almost time for dinner,' Sally wailed in protest.
'I'll be back in time,' Laura murmured distractedly as she stepped out on to the sunstoep and, without thinking, chose the path leading towards the slope of the mountain.
She walked briskly at first, and then slower as the agonising memory of her conversation with Camilla washed over her. Her brain was suddenly alive; frantically alive as it darted from one aching thought to the next until she cried out in silent desperation.
'I can't let him marry Camilla. She'll hurt him again. She'll ruin him for ever. I can't let him go. I won't! I'm going to have his child, and when he knows…'
She was climbing now. Higher and higher, unaware of where she was going, and unaware of the descending mist becoming denser by the second. She was fighting a lonely, desperate battle with herself, and she was losing. If what Camilla had said was the truth, then Anton shall have his freedom.
'I can't keep him tied to me,' Laura spoke out loud into the mist without quite realising it, and her voice sounded raw and quite unlike her own. 'I can't hold him against his will; not for Sally's sake, and never for the sake of the child I'm carrying. I couldn't bear it if he stayed with me for that reason. I just couldn't!'
That was her last conscious thought before her feet slipped from under her. Her head struck something hard, there was a blinding flash of pain, and then she sank willingly into the dark pit of oblivion which seemed to open up in front of her.
CHAPTER NINE
Laura had no idea how long she had lain there on the mountain, but she came to her senses with the realisation that she was cold and uncomfortably wet. It was dark, and her head throbbed painfully with every beat of her heart. Where was she? she wondered frantically, trying to sit up, but her head ached to such an extent that she groaned and lowered herself on to the uneven ground once more. She had no idea which way she had come, and Anton had warned her once of the hidden dangers when out climbing in the mist.
'Stay away from the mountain,' he had said, 'but if you're ever caught up there in the mist, don't panic, and stay where you are until help arrives.'
'Don't panic and stay where you are,' she repeated to herself. It was helpful advice, but, heaven help her, she was wet through and shivering with cold, and her head felt as if it wanted to burst. Somewhere, through the deathly silence of the mist, a voice was calling out a name at regular intervals, and she went colder still as she recalled the story of Friedrich walking the mist at night in search of Dora, the woman he had loved.
Was that someone calling her name? she wondered, straining her ears. Or was it Dora?
'That would depend on whether it was Friedrich or Anton out there roaming the mist,' she finally concluded a little hysterically.
She tried to cry out, but no sound passed her lips as she waited in a mixture of terror and hope for the owner of that voice to reach her. An eternity seemed to pass before her terrified eyes glimpsed a dark shape emerging from the mist, but then she wished that she had been less eager.
'Oh, God, it's Friedrich,' she thought hysterically as she turned her eyes away from the blinding light flashed at her, but there was nothing ghostly about the muttered oath that reached her ears, nor in the strong arms lifting her, and when her throbbing head came to rest on a familiar shoulder, she suddenly knew no more.
She rose eventually to a level of consciousness where she became aware of lying on a bed. Strong, yet surprisingly gentle, hands removed her wet clothes from her shivering body, and she was wrapped in something warm and dry. It was Anton. She knew his touch. But for once she did not mind, and as he pulled the blankets up about her, she sighed and slipped deeper into the vale of darkness from which she emerged again much later to find Graham Abbot bending over her anxiously.
'Well, you've certainly taken your time about waking up, haven't you?' he teased, his finger lingering on her pulse.
'What time is it?' she asked weakly, fully conscious now.
'Almost eleven o'clock.'
'Almost eleven?' Laura sat up with a jerk, only to fall back against the pillows a moment later when a stab of pain tore through her temples. 'Oh, my head!' she groaned.
'You have a nasty bump there, but all in all you've had a lucky escape,' Graham told her lightly.
'A lucky escape from what?' she grunted, examining the egg-shaped lump against the side of her head with gentle fingers.
'Pneumonia for one,' Graham replied dryly. 'You must have been lying unconscious for almost three hours before Anton found you.'
'When he came out of the mist towards me I thought for one terrible moment that it was Friedrich's ghost,' she confessed.
'You've been paying too much attention to Jemima's fanciful stories of old Friedrich's restless spirit roaming the mountain at night,' Graham laughed, his grey eyes dancing, then he shot a question at her that plunged her back into reality with sickening speed. 'Did you know you're pregnant?'
'I suspected it,' she whispered, then a terrible thought came to mind, and she glanced anxiously at the lean, grey-haired man while he closed his medical bag and pocketed his stethoscope. 'Graham, you haven't told Anton, have you?'
'No,' he laughed, seating himself on the bed. 'Women usually prefer telling their husbands in their own good time.'
'He must never know, Graham.'
'But, my dear girl—'
'I mean it,' she interrupted urgently.
'But why, for heaven's sake?' Graham demanded incredulously, observing her with a clinical eye as if he suspected that she might have become deranged.
'I had quite an interesting discussion with Camilla this afternoon. It seems—' Laura felt choked suddenly, but she had to go on. 'It seems as though it won't be long before Anton asks
for his freedom.'
'What nonsense!'
'Oh, Graham,' she sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired, 'you read the newspapers just as I do, and you know what they're saying about Anton and Camilla.'
He gestured angrily. 'It's all pure conjecture.'
'Is it?' Her soft mouth quivered and twisted bitterly. 'Are the photographs that were taken of them together over the past two weeks also a projected image of some reporter's imagination?'
'It could have something to do with Camilla buying Avron Enterprises,' he suggested. 'Have you thought of that?'
She nodded, but a sharp pain made her wince and grab her head. 'I've thought of that,' she groaned, 'but I don't think I can believe that any more.'
'Laura…' Graham shook his head a little helplessly, 'I don't know what to say to you.'
She clutched anxiously at the hand nearest to her. 'All I want is your word that you won't tell Anton about— about the baby.'
'If that's what you want, yes,' he nodded thoughtfully. 'Would you like me to talk to him about this business with Camilla?'
'I'll talk to him myself. I think I—'
The sound of the bedroom door opening made her break off in mid-sentence, and Anton's voice asked in an oddly hushed way, 'How is she?'
'Ask her yourself,' said Graham, getting to his feet and placing a small phial of capsules on the bedside table. 'Don't get up tomorrow unless you feel up to it,' he told Laura. 'And take one of these capsules every three hours for the pain, if necessary.'
'Thank you, Graham,' she smiled up at him. 'I'm sorry my foolishness kept you out so late.'
'All in a day's work,' he assured her, squeezing her shoulder lightly. 'I'll see myself out,' he said to Anton as he passed him on his way to the door.
Laura's heart was beating heavily against her ribs when she found herself alone with Anton a few seconds later. He approached the bed slowly and sat down beside her, but she avoided the probing intensity of his glance.
'How do you feel?' he asked at last, breaking the peculiar silence between them.
Season of Shadows Page 14