'Put me down,' she said tensely.
He recognised the nervousness in her voice and set her back on the chair. 'Sorry,' he said gruffly. 'I didn't mean to upset you. But it's your own fault for looking so beautiful.'
She reddened and, embarrassed, changed the subject. 'May I see what you've painted?'
'Not yet. I don't like a sitter to see their portrait until it's nearly finished.'
'How long will that be?'
^Depends how often you come. About ten sittings, I should think.' He stepped back to the canvas and looked at it, his head on one side. 'I think I'll stop for today. I'm getting stale.'
'I won't be able to come tomorrow,' she apologised. 'I'm having my hair done in the morning.' 'Of course—it's the party. I hope you'll let me take you?'
'I'm going with the family.'
'The family now, is it! Does that mean they're treating you better?'
'No. It just means I'm pretending a little more.'
'The old girl still bitter?'
'I'm afraid so.'
'I suppose she can't forget the money you've got.'
'I haven't got the money,' Carolyn said sharply. 'It belongs to Piotr.'
'It amounts to the same thing.' Derek snapped the lid of the paint box into place. 'He's your son legally, and if anything happened to him, the money would be yours.'
'Why should anything happen to Piotr?'
'I'm not saying it would. I'm just pointing out how Mrs. Nichols thinks.'
'Well she won't go on thinking it for long. If anything happens to Piotr, I'm trying to arrange for the money to be divided between Jeffrey and his mother. I've already spoken to my solicitor about it, but it takes time to work out.'
'I hope you'll change your mind before it is worked out. That money is legally yours.'
'But not morally.'
Derek's bushy eyebrows drew together. "You're a clever girl, Carolyn.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Because you are. As clever as you're beautiful.'
'There must be something about me that makes men talk in riddles,' she said as she stood up and stretched out her arms.
'Who else talks to you in riddles?'
'Alvin.'
'That's interesting,' Derek's voice was casual, but not casual enough, and Carolyn knew he was anxious to know more. A slight smile flitted across her mouth and she enjoyed the knowledge that this big, burly man should be jealous of her.
'What does he say?' Derek asked.
Carolyn shook her head. 'You can't know all my secrets. Women should retain some mystery.'
'Not that sort of mystery. If he's been rude to you I want to know what he says.'
'I can take care of myself,' she replied. 'I've been doing it long enough.'
'I hope you won't go on doing it for much longer. If I had my way I'd——' He didn't say any more, but instead took off his jacket and went over to the sink to wash his hands. 'If you won't let me take you to the party tomorrow night, I'll have to meet you there. Do I have to book my dances with you?'
'Don't be ridiculous.'
'I'm sorry. It's just that I don't like feeling you're out of reach.'
Again the conversation had taken an unexpected turn, but she was reluctant to let him pursue it, and she picked up her handbag and coat and went down the stairs.
'I'll drive you back,' he called.
'No. I'd like the walk. I'll see you tomorrow night.'
Carolyn dressed for the engagement party with great excitement. In the morning she had gone with Mrs. Nichols to have her hair done, but on returning to the house had brushed out the stiff set and re-done it herself. Betty was taking care of Piotr, enabling Carolyn to have a leisurely bath and devote the rest of the time to getting herself ready. It was a luxury as unexpected as it was welcome, heightened by the sensuous pleasure of putting on an exorbitantly expensive dress and all the matching accessories which Darien had carefully chosen to go with it. She was ready earlier than she had anticipated, and on an impulse she walked down the corridor and knocked on Mrs. Nichols' door.
Mrs. Nichols was putting the finishing touches to her makeup and looked unexpectedly regal in black velvet. 'You really do look like the mother of the groom,' she said impulsively.
'Thank you. You look pretty enough to be the bride.'
'Darien is the magician.'
'He's got good material to work on,' Mrs. Nichols said dryly. 'That dress is exactly you.'
Carolyn moved over to the mirror and looked at herself, acknowledging that the dress Darien had designed for her was one of the most beautiful she had ever had. It was in filmy organza in a strange shade of iridescent gold with an enormous bell skirt from which her tiny waist rose like Venus from a cloud. The bodice was tight and cut low to disclose her perfect shoulders and the curve of her breasts, and as she moved the small gold diamante straps on each shoulder glittered in the light.
'The only thing that spoils your appearance is your hair,' Mrs. Nichols said.
'I combed it out. I hated the way it had been set.'
'Would you like me to do something with it?'
'Could you really?'
Mrs. Nichols picked up a brush and motioned Carolyn to sit down at the dressing table. With an unexpectedly sure hand she began to brush the gold hair.
With awe Carolyn watched her appearance change as Mrs. Nichols swept her hair back from her forehead without a parting and coaxed it with comb and brush so that it fell in smooth waves on either side of her face, giving her the look of a medieval page-boy. It broadened her forehead, heightened the curve of her cheekbones and brought her eyes, long and green into prominence.
'What a difference!' Carolyn gasped. 'You're as much of a magician as Darien.'
'I got used to doing my own hair when I was on the stage.'
'Of course. I keep forgetting you had a career of your own.'
'Not much of a career,' Mrs. Nichols said with a slight smile. 'There's no glamour in being a chorus girl.'
Subtly the mood between them had changed, and reluctant for it to be spoiled, Carolyn said quickly: 'How about coming with me to show off to Piotr? I promised we'd go and see him before we left.'
For a moment it seemed as though Mrs. Nichols would refuse, then she nodded and preceded Carolyn from the room.
The light was still burning in the nursery, and as they walked in Cook stood up from the bed and closed a story book.
'He likes the same story every night,' she said with a smile. 'He's on to you like a knife if you miss one single word.'
Carolyn ruffled Piotr's hair and he caught her hand. "You look like a princess,' he said.
'Thank you, darling, and how do you think Grandma looks?'
Piotr's eyes sparkled and he knelt up on the bed and reached out for the book. 'I saw a picture of her just now.' He thumbed through the pages until he came to the story of The Sleeping Beauty. 'There,' he said, and pointed to a picture of the witch.
Carolyn's cheeks flamed, but Mrs. Nichols burst out laughing. 'Do you think I'm as ugly as that?'
'You're younger.'
'Well, that's a compliment, anyway.'
'What's a compliment?'
'When you say something nice to someone.'
'I'd compent you if you played with me, but you're always too busy.'
'I'll play with you tomorrow if you like.'
'If you forget I'll come and call you.'
'I won't forget,' Airs. Nichols promised, 'but if I do, you'll know where to find me.'
'I'll shout for you,' Piotr said, and jumped up on the bed giving a demonstration, his shrill voice piping the words 'Grannie, Grannie!'
'Enough of that,' Carolyn said sharply, and pushed him down. 'It's late, my boy. To sleep with you.'
Obediently he lay back on his pillow, but as they left the nursery they could hear him chanting the words, 'Grannie, Grannie' like a refrain. Mrs. Nichols stopped at the top of the stairs and listened for a moment.
'It's a nice word,' she said
. 'I never heard it until now.'
As they reached the hall Jeffrey came out from the library, his face paler than usual. 'I'm scared,' he muttered.
'Wait till your wedding day,' his mother said briskly.
'I'm not thinking of the engagement,' he said, 'it's the musical.'
'Don't make a fuss about nothing,' his mother replied. Jeffrey looked at Carolyn and she gave him a sympathetic smile wondering whether Mrs. Nichols was being deliberately obtuse, or deliberately determined to see that Jeffrey did nothing with his talent.
Alvin had offered to send his car and chauffeur for them, but Jeffrey had refused, a fact which Mrs. Nichols grumbled about as she squeezed into the narrow front seat.
'You'll have the Rolls when I'm married,' he said with unusual asperity. 'I'll see you enjoy my money, Mother.'
'There's no reason to be rude,' his mother replied.
'I'm sorry.' He got into the front seat and turned on the engine.
As they moved down the drive Carolyn was conscious of a mounting sense of excitement. This would be the first time she visited Alvin's home, and she wondered if it would give her a better understanding of the man.
'His land begins here,' Jeffrey said as though aware of her thoughts.
Carolyn looked out of the window, but could only see a low hedge with fields, the ploughed ridges silver in the moonlight. Jeffrey swung the car sharply left and drove straight at a high cedarwood wall, his headlights glowing in the darkness. He pressed his foot on the accelerator and Carolyn screamed, but even as she did so the wall slid back to disclose a white, straight avenue that stretched into the endless distance.
Jeffrey laughed. 'That always fools people!'
'You pig! Why didn't you warn me?'
'I thought you'd guess. It's a pretty standard way of opening doors in America.'
They turned a bend in the drive and Carolyn saw a slender marble tower, its dome gleaming silver under bright arc lights. Below the tower, curved archways disclosed inner courtyards, and as the car moved in closer, she caught the occasional sparkle of a fountain.
'It's like a fairy-tale palace,' she whispered.
'There are many women who'd enjoy being a prisoner here,' Jeffrey replied as he swung through a larger curved arch and came to a stop alongside a marble column.
'Where is the sea?' she asked.
'On the other side of the house. All the main rooms face south.'
Carolyn opened the car door and stepped out. A liveried footman came forward and took the car keys from Jeffrey's hand, leaving him free to escort his mother and Carolyn up wide, shallow steps into a vast marbled hall. There were no direct lights but a soft diffused glow that, at first glance, seemed to come from nowhere, and only as Carolyn looked intently around did she realise they came from hidden spotlights that skilfully picked out the magnificent paintings and sculptures that lined the alcoves around them.
Ahead, the delicately spiralled staircase led up to the next floor, and as they reached the top she was met by a view of such breathtaking beauty that she was speechless. As Jeffrey had said, the entire southern aspect of the house faced the sea, and through plate-glass walls she saw a paved terrace overlooking a white, sandy beach. Here again, skilful lights lit up the view, linking the terrace with the garden, and the garden with the shore.
'It looks as if we're the first to arrive.'
'No, we're not,' Jeffrey replied. 'Alvin's got a house party for the week-end. They must be having coffee in the drawing- room.' As he spoke he led the way through a vast room already cleared for dancing. Here too the floor was marble, and velvet armchairs in jewelled colours of amethyst and sapphire were grouped around small onyx tables.
'I'd hardly call this a cosy room,' Carolyn said. 'What is it normally used for—conventions?'
Jeffrey grinned. 'No, but it's a good idea. You should suggest it to Alvin.'
They passed through another archway into a smaller room, one side of which was completely oval. A silver carpet covered the floor and grey, satin curtains were interfolded with ones of lemon and turquoise, the same three colours picked out in the low sprung settee and armchairs. Even the flowers complemented the decor, with grey porcelain bowls filled with hyacinths and yellow roses.
'It doesn't seem like a home,' Carolyn murmured. 'Does Alvin really live here?'
'I don't think Alvin lives anywhere except in his office,' Jeffrey said so quietly that only Carolyn could hear. 'After my sister left him he seemed to close down on everything.'
'People don't generally do that for ever.'
'Alvin has his own standards. You can't equate him with a normal man.'
'You certainly can't,' Carolyn said.
'Can't what?' Mrs. Nichols asked.
'Can't leave your coats on,' Jeffrey said easily. 'Take Carolyn upstairs, Mother.'
Carolyn followed Mrs. Nichols up another flight of shallow stairs to the first floor. She surmised they were once more on the same level as when they entered the house, though they were in a completely different wing.
'The main bedrooms are all here,' Mrs. Nichols explained, 'but Alvin has his own suite in the tower.'
'How appropriate,' Carolyn said.
Mrs. Nichols ignored the sarcasm and pushed open the first door. 'We can leave our things here. This room is generally used when there's a party.'
The bedroom Carolyn entered was decorated far more simply than the rooms below, with graceful Hepplewhite furniture and a matching double bed. There was no wardrobe and Mrs. Nichols walked over to a wall and touched a small leather button. With a soft whirr the walls slid back to disclose a dressing-room and Carolyn had an impression of masses of vivid colours before the doors slid together again. 'Oh dear,' Mrs. Nichols exclaimed, 'I didn't know the room was occupied. We'd better leave our coats on a chair.'
Carolyn walked over to the dressing table and looked at a set of silver brushes and a mirror. The name 'Romaine' was picked out in diamonds on each piece and she touched one with her finger.
'This must have set someone back a few dollars.'
'She's a friend of Alvin's,' Mrs. Nichols said. Carolyn waited for her to say more, but the silence was diplomatically obvious, leaving very little to Carolyn's imagination. A feeling of bleakness descended on her and as it ebbed she was left with an unreasoning and mounting anger towards Alvin. So clothes were not the only things he bought his women friends.
'Come on, Carolyn,' Mrs. Nichols' voice broke into her thoughts, and she dropped her coat on a chair and followed her out to the corridor.
As they reached the drawing-room again, Ella was waiting to greet them. Her eyes widened as she saw Carolyn. 'How stunning you look. I hardly recognised you.'
'It's my hair. Mrs. Nichols did it for me.'
'You should always wear it that way. Don't you think so, Alvin?'
Carolyn turned to see her host standing directly behind her. He was wearing his usual dinner jacket, and his hair gleamed silver in the spotlight which shone down from the high ceiling.
'Women always have the advantage over us. They can change their appearance as easily as they can change their character.'
'You must know chameleons,' Carolyn retorted, 'not women. Once I say something or do something I stick by it.'
His eyes met hers, but as always it was impossible to see his expression and she wondered if he remembered the last time they had met when he had held her in his arms and kissed her. It was a dangerous question and she pushed it away. Alvin's emotions remained secret, and to try and analyse what he was feeling could only lead to heartbreak.
With uncanny perception he broke into her thoughts. 'You're too emotional, Carolyn. One day it will be your downfall.'
'What do you mean?'
'Only that I don't believe you'll go through with it. One day you'll admit the truth.'
'The truth about what?'
He did not answer, and again she experienced an upsurge of anger. Why was he always making these strange remarks? What did the veiled insin
uations mean and why couldn't he come out into the open and say exactly what he was thinking?
'You can't go on saying these things to me.' She kept her voice low so that only he could hear her. 'You've been making these remarks from the moment we met, and I want to know exactly what you mean.'
'I'll be able to tell you in a couple of weeks' time,' Alvin said.
'Why can't you tell me now?'
'I'm waiting for a little information.'
Her mystification deepened and she felt as though she was swimming in a sea of deception, fighting against something intangible, yet evil.
'Your friend has just arrived,' Jeffrey touched her arm, bringing her back to the present. 'I'll go and bring him up.'
'Who is it?' Alvin asked.
'Derek de Mancy,' she replied. 'He's painting my portrait.' 'Of course,' Alvin's voice was ice cold. 'Is he here with his sister?'
'No. She was supposed to come, but she telephoned and said she wasn't well.' She looked at him in surprise. 'I didn't know you knew them.'
'I don't.'
'Then how did you know he had a sister?'
'I told you, Carolyn, I know everything.'
'Don't keep saying that!' she said angrily. 'If you have anything to——-'
'Alvin, I've been looking everywhere for you.'
Carolyn swung round and saw a petite woman in her early thirties coming towards them. She was barely five feet tall and was as exquisitely proportioned as a Tanagra figurine. Her perfect oval face with its clear magnolia skin was outlined by blue- black hair and her features had a faintly oriental slant, the dark eyes slightly uptilted, the mouth unusually full and painted the same flame red as her dress.
Alvin smiled at her warmly and Carolyn noticed with a sense of irritation that he had to look down in order to do so.
'I was just coming to look for you, Romaine. I'd like you to meet Mrs. Kolsky—Piotr's stepmother. Carolyn, this is a very dear friend of mine, Romaine Anderson.'
So she had been right in recognising the voice. Carolyn smiled stiffly. 'I think we've met before.'
'Really?'
'Not actually face to face, but we were in adjoining cubicles at Darien's a few weeks ago.'
Momentarily long-lashed eyelids hid the dark eyes, and when they were raised again a smile lurked in their depths. 'He's such a wonderful couturier, don't you think?' Without waiting for an answer she put her small hand with long scarlet nails on Alvin's arm. 'You do like this dress, don't you, darling?'
Rachel Lindsay - Mask of Gold Page 12