"He can't love Charlotte!" Madeleine was fierce with grief. "I—I tried to talk to him, but he said he didn't love me, he couldn't love me because he was in no position to get married. Not to anyone."
"Did he, indeed?" Elizabeth said grimly, hugging her.
"Who was he lying to, me or her?"
Charlotte was on her way up the orangery steps. Coming through the doorway she saw Elizabeth and stopped, turning rose-red with guilt. Before Elizabeth could say anything, Madeleine marched up to her sister and slapped her hard across the face. "You viper!"
Charlotte reeled away, her eyes filling with water. "What was that for?" she gasped.
"Karl is mine, not yours! How dare you try to take him from me! You traitor!"
Charlotte looked so devastated that Elizabeth almost felt sorry for her. Yet she didn't attempt to defend herself, and that made Elizabeth want to slide the knife in. With an arm around Madeleine to quieten her, Elizabeth said coolly, "Maddy, you've behaved with great dignity so far; don't spoil it. Remember you're blameless in this. Well, Charlotte, should we congratulate you?"
"Why?"
"Well, obviously the only correct thing for Karl to do is marry you, so is he going to?"
Charlotte was wild-eyed, impaled by her aunt's cruel perceptiveness. Her mouth opened but no answer emerged.
Heavens above, she hasn't even the guile to bluff it out. "No," Elizabeth went on. "Apparently—so he has just informed Madeleine—he cannot. Did he lie to you, make false promises?"
"No!" A touch of spirit; defensiveness, at least. "He told me he couldn't marry me. He wouldn't say why—but he never lied to me."
"Well, how noble of him," Elizabeth said, witheringly sarcastic. "He probably already has a wife, you little fool! No decent girl allows herself to be made love to until she has a ring on her finger; certainly not to discard all her morals like some kitchen slut too idiotic to know better. Haven't you ever listened to a thing I've told you? It's great fun skating on thin ice but you never, ever let yourself fall into the depths."
In a tone of absolute horror, Madeleine said, "Auntie, they can't have… not that… "
"Sadly, I've been around too long not to recognise the signs. She's not denying it, is she? Oh, you idiot! Did you stop for one second to consider the possible consequences?"
Charlotte stared at her, one hand pressed to the red mark on her cheek. "You've no right to speak to me like this. You don't know anything about it."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "I think I know enough and I shall have to consider how much to tell your father—if we're to salvage what's left of your life."
She went sickly white at this threat. "I don't know why you hate me so much, Auntie. What have I ever done to you? Why aren't I allowed to be in love?" She looked at her sister. "I wouldn't have hurt Maddy for the world but it just—"
"I'll never forgive you for this," said Madeleine, her eyes glittering. "Never."
Charlotte's face went rigid and she walked past them out of the room. "That's it, run away," Elizabeth called after her. "Your answer to everything." But she thought, This time I've broken her. At last! This gave her the means to crush Charlotte to the absolute depths of torment and shame. Once she was at her most wretched, that would be the time for Elizabeth to become the loving, forgiving aunt… to begin to recreate her niece in a more conventional shape.
***
Charlotte walked along the corridor into the upper hall, too stricken to weep. The gilded mirrors, the paintings, the gleaming furniture, all looked sharp and unreal. She had only ever wanted to love, and be loved by, her family; instead they hated her. She had hurt Madeleine and now she knew, knew, that neither of them would be allowed to see Karl again. All my fault. Talons of fear and misery tore into her heart but she couldn't fight the pain, could only submit numbly.
"Charlotte?" Anne put out a hand and stopped her; Charlotte hadn't even noticed she was there. "Karl's back, did you know?"
She responded, her voice toneless. "Yes, I've seen him."
"Has he said something to upset you? You look awful."
"No, but Elizabeth saw us together and she guessed… what I told you last night."
"Oh, God," Anne breathed in dismay. "It might have been prudent to deny it."
"I'm no use at lying, she would have known. The worst thing is that Maddy was there too—the things Elizabeth said in front of her… " No words to explain, but Anne understood. "I can't bear this."
"What did Karl say?"
"Just that he would explain everything later, and that he intends to stay in Cambridge."
Anne sighed. "It's not very likely, after what David's going to say to him. He'll have to ask him to leave."
"He has no right!"
"But if Elizabeth tells the men what she knows, it will be ten times worse!" Anne was never dishonest in order to be comforting. Charlotte appreciated that, but now Anne's friendship was like a piece of driftwood in the ocean. She clung to it, but it would not save her. "You can't see Karl clearly. He's untrustworthy, he attacked his own friend. Either that, or he was kissing him; take your pick of which is worse. He seduced you, for heaven's sake! Whatever you say, it was wrong of him. I know it's difficult, but you must be realistic. What if you found you were pregnant?"
"Then Aunt Lizzie would take me on a quiet trip to Paris and Father would lock me up for the rest of my life!" Charlotte said bitterly. "Don't talk to me about being realistic! The things that have been going through my mind, you wouldn't believe."
"I'm on your side, you know," Anne said quietly. "Elizabeth's being downright cruel to you. It's unforgivable."
The front doorbell rang as she spoke. There were faint sounds from the lower hall of doors opening, voices.
Charlotte touched her arm. "I'm sorry, Anne. If you weren't here I don't know what I'd do. I've turned them all against me and I shall never be able to hold my head up after this… and I'm losing Karl. I remember I once said I'd kill him if he broke Maddy's heart. Now I think I should kill myself."
"Don't you dare talk like that," Anne began, but a voice interrupted.
"I wish you would!" Madeleine, crossing the top end of the hall, stopped and marched towards them. "Oh yes, go and cry on Anne's shoulder, as if you were the one who's been wronged. If you're miserable you deserve it—you little—whore!"
Charlotte was beyond reacting, but Anne looked outraged. "Maddy, for heaven's sake. There's no call for that sort of language. I think you ought to consider yourself lucky that Karl wasn't interested in you. Don't you?"
Maddy stared as if Anne had thrown cold water in her face. There were footsteps on the stairs, an uneven thudding muffled by the carpet. Newland was bringing someone to the upper hall. By instinct there was swift, mutual transformation. Madeleine dried her eyes and tucked her balled-up handkerchief into her sleeve. Charlotte, dry-eyed, painfully swallowed her misery. By the time Newland reached them, the three women presented a tenuous front of normality.
The visitor was a thin anxious-looking man in grey suit. He smiled as he saw them and stopped, leaning on his walking stick. "Mr Edward Lees to see Mr Neville," Newland said solemnly. "I shall inform Lady Reynolds of your arrival."
"It's all right, we'll look after him," said Anne, and the butler nodded and walked away. "Edward! This is a surprise! Was David expecting you? He never said anything."
She went to him; Charlotte and Madeleine hung back, not looking at each other. Why did someone have to arrive now? Charlotte thought. Yet in a way, the distraction was a relief.
"Hello, Anne." Edward shook hands and greeted each of them in turn, his gaze lingering a few moments on Maddy. His smile could not erase the strain in his face. "No, David didn't know I was coming and I'm most awfully sorry for turning up without notice."
"Don't be silly, you know you're welcome here, day or night," said Anne. "Besides, you virtually work here."
"Well, that's just it," said Edward, smootüing down his mousy hair. "I've been lazing about at home qui
te long enough. This morning I woke up with an extraordinary feeling that David needed me and I thought right, that's it, no more of this convalescent business. Time to pull myself together and start work."
"Oh, that's marvellous news, as long as you're well enough. David will be thrilled."
"Is he around?"
"I'm afraid he'd not here at the moment," Anne replied. "He's gone up to the manor house with Karl. I'm sure they won't be long."
At this his fragile smile wavered. "Is he on his own with Karl?"
"Well, I presume so, but they'll be back soon. Do come and have some tea." She glanced at Charlotte and added, "We all need it."
Edward hesitated, his expression distracted and anxious. He stared down at the front door. "Actually, if it's all the same to you, I would rather go straight up to the manor house and make sure David's safe."
"Why shouldn't he be?" Charlotte exclaimed. His edginess was infectious, especially in her over-sensitive state.
He cleared his throat. His head twitched nervously. "I know what you're all doing, trying to be terribly polite and not mentioning it, and I know everyone thinks I'm crackers—but I can't shake off this feeling about Karl. Maybe that's why I had to come here today." He was edging towards the top of the stairs as he spoke. "I hope I am wrong—but if anything happened to David I'd never forgive myself. If you'll excuse me, I'm going up there."
His stick slipped over the top tread and he almost lost his balance. Anne caught his elbow. "Edward, I'm sure everything's all right. But we'll come with you if it will set your mind at rest."
Anne was clearly more alarmed by Edward's state of mind than his premonition. But there was a trace of doubt in her dark eyes as she looked at Charlotte, implying, "I don't believe this but we'd better humour him. "
"I'm coming with you," said Charlotte. "So am I!" Madeleine said combatively, running down the stairs ahead of them. Edward seemed so concerned now that they didn't even stop in the lower hall for their coats.
Madeleine opened the front door and Edward hurried out to his car, a small, boxy Austin Seven with a canvas roof. As he cranked the engine into life, Anne climbed into the front seat, Charlotte and her sister into the back. Maddy didn't speak but was visibly composing herself, squaring her shoulders and tidying her hair, with a warlike gleam in her eye.
I wish I had half her spirit, Charlotte thought as Edward swung the car off the drive and on to the narrow farm track that led to the manor house. How painful to be hated by someone I love. God, what am I going to do? Then, Poor Edward… but what if he's right? Memories of the awful things David and Anne had said last night… No, don't be ridiculous. How could Karl be any danger to David? He's so gentle… I won't believe any of it!
***
In the entrance hall of the manor house, a fire blazed in the grate and estate workmen could be heard talking and whistling over the sound of hammers and saws from the kitchen. It was good to have some life in the place, David thought, but the cheerful sounds did not seem to reach up into the vaulted ceiling. The stairs and landing had a grey, brooding look.
"Good mornin', Captain Neville, sir." The foreman, a lean good-natured man of about forty, leaned through a doorway and touched his cap. "If you need us for anything, just give us a shout." He disappeared into the kitchen again.
"They're doing well with the plumbing," said David. "We have a bathroom and running water—and not only down the walls." His gaze travelled up the stairs; no workmen up there, so they would not be overheard. "I think we'll look upstairs first."
"As you wish," said the dark, elegant figure at his side. David was no stranger to dealing with difficult situations, yet for some reason the prospect of beginning this conversation made him nervous. Best to get it over with.
As they climbed the long sweep of stairs, David said, "I'll come straight to the point, if you don't mind."
"Of course not." Karl smiled, inclining his head. "I appreciate directness."
"Well, it strikes me you've been taking rather more than a friendly interest in Charlotte. If you have sisters of your own you will understand the responsibilities a brother has. This is nothing personal, but you must appreciate that it's my duty to find out the truth of the matter."
"Naturally," said Karl, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Perhaps I've got the wrong impression, but I don't think so." Karl said nothing. "I must warn you, my father is very old-fashioned about these things and I rather take after him. Casual affairs may be all the rage elsewhere—but not in this family."
"I assure you, my regard for Charlotte is anything but casual," said Karl.
Good God, thought David, I was so sure he'd deny it. "She, ahm—claimed you were in love with each other. Are you admitting it?"
"I should not like to lie to you, David. I hold her in great affection and esteem. Sadly for both of us, there is no future for our love—so there would be no point in asking your father's permission to court her. She is aware of this."
David was taken aback by the directness of this reply. "In that case, there is all the more reason to leave her alone."
"I agree with you," said Karl, but his face was unreadable.
"I'm glad to hear it," David said with a touch of belligerence. "You know, the poor girl broke her engagement because of you. It's caused a great deal of disruption in my family. A man might almost read some kind of mischievous intent into it. I hope I'm wrong."
Karl moved along the landing and leaned on the balustrade. Calmly he said, "I am very fond of all your family and it saddens me that you think I could wish them any harm. Perhaps you would explain why you have this idea."
David hesitated, battling an irrational feeling that it would be very dangerous to tell the truth. He was used to dealing with people in a straightforward way and this eggshell dance disconcerted him. "Very well, I'll come clean. I overheard part of a conversation between you and your friend Pierre last night." He didn't intend to implicate Anne. "I didn't mean to, I just happened to be on the terrace while you were in the library… "
"Ah." A slight shadow touched Karl's face. "What do you think you heard?"
"Enough to convince me that your friend Pierre is not the most pleasant of fellows."
"To be honest with you, he is not. Yet he is my friend." Karl gazed up at the beamed vault. "As I said, Pierre is a little like your friend Edward; he appears normal enough, but he can be… unstable. Sometimes he has to be protected from himself."
David was offended at Edward being compared with the obnoxious Frenchman. "Unstable in that he might actually become violent?"
"It has been known," Karl answered, giving David a long sideways glance. "That was why I took him away."
David said gravely, "There's no chance, is there, that Madeleine's 'illness' was due to her being attacked or frightened by Pierre?"
"That happened days before Pierre arrived."
"But didn't you imply that he was responsible?"
Karl looked straight at him, eyes like embers; dark and cold, yet glowing. It was the first time David had noticed how compelling they were. "You must have watched for quite some time."
"Long enough to see that you had a damned strange way of dealing with your friend. Apparently by trying to tear his throat out."
"I don't know how you may have misinterpreted what you saw and heard, but I can assure you there was nothing sinister in it. Pierre was distressed over a private matter, hence his erratic behaviour. Surely you realise that old friends develop a way of communicating that makes no sense to outsiders? It must be the same for army men." And still those eyes were on him, so deep-etched in the marble-pale face.
"Yes, of course, but—"
"You would not expect me to explain my private business with an old acquaintance—unless, of course, my word is not good enough for you."
This sounded perfectly reasonable to David. In fact, he was beginning to doubt what he had seen. Must've got my wires crossed somewhere…
"Of course I have to accept
your word, Karl, one gentleman to another. You have me at a disadvantage, because I shouldn't have witnessed a private conversation. I apologise for that—on condition that you consider your relationship with Charlotte at an end."
"No need to apologise," Karl said politely. "And if you feel honour would be satisfied by knocking me downstairs, I shall understand."
David smiled uneasily. "I'm sure we can sort this out in a civilised way. You'll appreciate that it may be for the best if you don't go back to Cambridge."
"That rather depends on Dr Neville," said Karl, his voice razor-edged. And he gazed not so much at David as through him, as if knowing that David had no power over him. Not mocking, but something worse; not even caring. Preoccupied. And David knew he was lying, that something was going on, yet he felt powerless to unearth the truth.
There was a red glint in Karl's irises; reflection of the hall fire, but it gave him a deathly malevolent look. Surely he wasn't so pale when we came in… There was never much colour in his face, but now it seemed to have as much in common with human flesh as alabaster. An eerie, hungry glow. And suddenly he said very softly, "David, if I were you I should leave here now."
Karl's hands tightened on the rail; his knuckles shone through the skin.
"Anything wrong?" David said, disconcerted.
"I am more tired than I realised, that's all." Karl turned, came towards him. David took a step or two backwards, involuntarily, and pressed himself against the balustrade. He didn't know why he felt this need to shrink away, but a wave of fear left gooseflesh in its wake.
Then the front door creaked open and watery daylight spilled across the hall below them. Karl halted, unnaturally still save for the slow smooth turn of his head as he looked down. "David?" a voice called. "Thank God… " David recognised the thin figure that stood silhouetted in the doorway, one side rimmed by firelight.
"Edward!" he called, surprised but strangely relieved. "This is unexpected. What brings you here?"
A Taste of Blood Wine Page 20