Rachel Lindsay - Mask of Gold

by Rachel Lindsay

  'That's no way to bring up kids. When we were old enough not to do any damage we were always allowed into the kitchen at the orphanage.'

  'My father was rather strict.'

  'He died when you were very young, though, didn't he?'

  One fawn eyebrow arched. 'By that time I already had too many responsibilities to revert to childhood. I imagine you had more fun than Ella and I—despite being brought up in the orphanage.' He put his knife and fork on the empty plate. 'That was excellent. I feel much better.'

  'I'm glad. Some more coffee?'

  'No, thanks.'

  She began to pile the dishes in the sink. He watched her run the water and then came over with a plate in his hand, holding it helplessly in front of him.

  'Heck,' she laughed, 'put it in the sink, it won't bite.'

  He obeyed. 'Can I help you wipe?'

  'Do you know how?'

  His eyes looked into hers. 'I can try,' he said gravely. 'I'm very good at learning.'

  Abruptly she gave him a tea-cloth and concentrated on the dishes in the sink. Methodically he wiped each knife and fork and then started on the plates. Carolyn was intensely aware of him, a feeling so high inside her she was afraid it would show on her face.

  'Here's the last one,' she said, and handed him a plate, still soapy and warm.

  He reached out to get it and it slipped from his fingers. Simultaneously they bent to catch it and their heads bumped together. Tears stung Carolyn's eyes and she would have fallen back had Alvin not reached out and caught her.

  'Are you all right?' he said against her ear.

  She turned her face towards his and the words she had been about to utter were stifled as his mouth came down on hers.

  In a flash the misunderstanding and harsh words that had ever been uttered by them dissolved into nothing, and they were made indivisible by the most primitive, unexplained force in the world. Carolyn clung to him, afraid that if she opened her eyes she'd find it a dream. But this was no dream. Alvin's breath was warm on her face, his fingers gentle as they caressed the smooth skin of her shoulders and the soft curve of her breasts. 'Caro, darling,' he muttered huskily.

  For an instant she resisted, but passion overcame fear and she pulled his trembling body against hers and put her hand on the back of his head. At last she knew the truth about herself; recognised the real reason she had felt such antagonism towards him. It had not stemmed from his behaviour towards her—she now realised that in ordinary circumstances she could have ignored his rudeness—but because of the subconscious impact he had made on her had been so strong, she had fought desperately to win his respect, hoping, deep inside her, that if she were able to do so she might then stand a chance of winning his love.

  Alvin's love! Now she could admit it without despising herself. She wanted Alvin's love.

  'Darling,' she whispered, 'I love you.'

  Gently he kissed her lips his passion penetrating to the very heart of her. She was conscious of an overwhelming desire to become a complete part of him, and strained close against his chest. Reality receded and she seemed to be enveloped in a darkness pierced by a thousand flames that made her cry out with longing. Her breath came in gasps and there was a ringing in her ears, a ringing that persisted and grew louder until she finally pulled away from him.

  'Alvin,' she gasped. 'Alvin—the telephone!'

  He leaned against the wall, staring down at her uncomprehendingly.

  'The telephone,' she repeated.

  With an effort he straightened and walked into the lounge, and Carolyn sat on a kitchen chair and closed her eyes, opening them again as he came back into the room.

  'It was Mrs. Nichols. She's been trying to get the number of the flat for the past two hours, but it's ex-directory.'

  'What's wrong?'

  'It's Piotr. He——— '

  'What's happened to him? Alvin, what is it?'

  'I'm trying to tell you,' he said gently. 'He was walking back from school with the maid and a car came down the lane and hit him.'

  'Oh, my God!' She struggled to her feet. 'Is he dead?'

  'No.'

  'Tell me the truth, Alvin, I've got to know the truth!'

  'I'm telling you the truth. He's got a fractured leg and minor concussion. But he isn't dead.'

  'A fractured leg?' She clutched Alvin's arm. 'He might be left with a limp! Oh, God! I should never have come to town and left him.'

  'Don't be ridiculous. It could have happened even if you'd been with him.'

  'Who was it—do they know?'

  'No.' He frowned. 'That's the awful thing. The driver just drove straight on.'

  'How dreadful! He's got to be traced. I won't let him get away with it.' She began to cry, and Alvin disappeared, returning with a glass of brandy.

  'Drink this, while I put on slacks and a sweater. I'll be with you directly.'

  The drive down to Terring was a nightmare. It was a stormy night and torrential rain cut their visibility to twenty yards. Alvin drove fast, relying on the cats' eyes that winked down the centre of the road for his direction. Carolyn sat hunched in the corner and Alvin, his head bent forward, concentrated on his driving.

  'Another hour and we'll be there,' he said.

  'It seems like a lifetime.'

  'We've been doing sixty.' He glanced across at her. 'I daren't do any more on roads like this.'

  'I didn't mean that. You've been wonderful, Alvin.'

  'Forget it.'

  He set his foot harder on the accelerator and the Bentley shot forward mile after mile. Fascinated, Carolyn watched the flickering hand of the speedometer—sixty-five, sixty-six, seventy miles an hour. She felt a constriction round her throat and moved uneasily in her seat.

  The roundabout was upon them before they realised it and with a screech of brakes Alvin twisted the steering wheel sharply. Carolyn felt the car shudder and it slithered forward, rocketing towards the white barrier in the centre of the road.

  She buried her head in her hands as the car half lifted in the air and swung in a violent circle. Miraculously it straightened, skidded along the edge of the barrier and righted itself to continue along the straight road running in the direction of Chichester.

  Carolyn wiped her forehead with a shaking hand and leaned wearily against the seat. She was too dazed to say anything, and it was some time before she noticed that the car was slowing down. Trees that had once been flashing by came at slower intervals, the whine of the engine grew softer and the motion steadier. She turned to look at Alvin. In the light of the dashboard his face looked green, his mouth pressed into a tight line with beads of perspiration glimmering on his upper lip. He was hunched over the wheel, his hands gripping it so tightly that the knuckles stood out white.

  'Alvin, you're in pain again!'

  'It's my head,' he gasped. 'I'll have to stop for a minute. I can't see. That damned roundabout finished me off.' The car drew to a halt and he bent forward and rested his head on the steering wheel. 'I'll be all right soon. I'm sorry I had to stop.'

  'How far are we from your house?'

  'About a mile.'

  'Then you must take me there. Your chauffeur can drive me the rest of the way.'

  'I'll take you.'

  'Don't be absurd. You can't drive the way you feel. Besides, it'll take five times as long.' She leaned forward and touched him. 'Darling, don't be obstinate.'

  'All right' He set the car in motion again, but he drove slowly, his face screwed up with pain. The wide mahogany doors opened at the signal of their headlights, they bowled up the drive past the tower and, ignoring the flagstoned terrace where Jeffrey had parked, shot round the side of the house and down a sloping ramp to come to a stop in front of a wrought- iron door.

  Alvin climbed out gingerly and Carolyn pressed the bell.

  The door was opened by a butler. 'Good evening, Mr. Tyssen.'

  Alvin leaned against the wall. 'Get the chauffeur, will you? I want him to drive Caro—Mrs. Kolsky to Royston at on
ce.'

  The butler disappeared and Alvin walked unsteadily across the marble hall and into a circular room lined with books. There was a murmur of surprise and Romaine Anderson, clad in a filmy negligee, uncurled herself from a deep armchair.

  'Darling! I'd almost given you up.'

  Carolyn drew back a step as Romaine ran across the room and twined her arms around Alvin's neck. 'Darling, you're so pale,' she said huskily. 'Come and have a drink.'

  'There's someone with me.' Alvin drew Romaine's hands down to her sides. 'Come in, Carolyn.'

  Afraid that her trembling legs would not hold her, Carolyn entered the library.

  'Good heavens, what are you doing here?' Romaine said.

  'I have to get back to Royston. My stepson's had an accident.'

  The dark eyes narrowed. 'How did you meet?'

  Alvin slumped down in a chair and closed his eyes.

  'You'd better not talk to him,' Carolyn said coldly. 'He's got an attack of migraine.'

  Romaine knelt by his side. 'Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I'll kiss it better for you.' She leaned over and pressed her lips against his cheek. 'And take off your nasty old glasses.' The scarlet-tipped fingers fumbled at the frames and as she bent to put the glasses on the arm of his chair, her negligee parted to show an expanse of shapely bare leg.

  Not waiting to see more, Carolyn turned and ran into the hall as the chauffeur came through the front door.

  'The car is waiting, madam.'

  CHAPTER TEN

  Piotr's accident turned out to be less serious than had first been thought. His leg had broken clearly and the concussion was mild enough to leave him with only a headache for a couple of days.

  The specialist called from London wanted to send him to hospital, but Carolyn decided against it.

  'I'm a trained pediatric nurse,' she explained, 'and even if he needed traction I could arrange for it to be done here.'

  'Complete rest is the only thing in a case like this,' the specialist said. 'But make sure you get enough!'

  Carolyn smiled, but during the week to come she remembered the advice, though she was unable to take it.

  Piotr was a fretful patient and she was kept on her feet all day, while at night, even though she was exhausted, the memory of Alvin kept her from sleeping. Bitterly she relived her spontaneous surrender to him, remembering that all the time he had been holding her, Romaine had been waiting for him at his home. Every word of their conversation came back to haunt her and every response he had aroused returned with renewed force to taunt her. What a mockery his passion had been, aroused only by propinquity. If his migraine had not made it impossible for him to return to the country, nothing would have happened between them. Had it not been for that he would have been spending the evening with Romaine. If only they had never met, and she had never known the joy and wonder of being held in his arms.

  In her hurt she turned to Derek for affection, and though he did not know the reason for her changed attitude, he accepted it with delight.

  Once or twice she almost told him the truth—feeling it unfair to let him believe she was beginning to care for him—but each time pride kept her silent.

  'I've never seen you look so pale,' Derek said one afternoon when he called round to see her. 'You must let Margaret help you. She's not a trained nurse, but she's had enough experience to be able to take care of Piotr.'

  'I'd rather take care of him myself.'

  'And I'm interested in taking care of you. Anyway, Margaret was going to stay here—we'd arranged it before the accident.'

  Carolyn sighed and looked at herself in the mirror over the drawing-room mantlepiece. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her cheekbones were accentuated by a new hollowness. 'I can't seem to shake off this tiredness,' she admitted.

  "You need a rest. Margaret will come up tomorrow. Will it be all right if she sleeps here?'

  'Certainly.'

  He crossed the room and drew her into his arms, rubbing his beard against the side of her face. 'I hate seeing you so depressed. There's no need for it, sweetheart. Piotr's doing fine.'

  'It isn't just Piotr,' she said. 'It's…' she turned and leaned her head on Derek's shoulder.

  'What's wrong, Carolyn? Let me help you. I know you're upset about something.'

  'No, I'm not,' she lied. 'I just feel tired and empty and unwanted.'

  'Unwanted?' His arms tightened round her. 'I want you more than anything else in the world. Don't you know that?'

  'Do you really?' she asked. 'Is it me you see or the woman who's got charge of Piotr?'

  'Charge of…' his voice dropped. 'Is that what you think of me? That I'm a man who'd sell himself?'

  'It isn't a question of selling,' she protested.

  'What other word would you use?' He pushed her away. 'For years I lived in attics and starved because I wouldn't sell out on my talent—yet you dare suggest I'd sell myself. My God!'

  She had never before seen him so angry. Gone was the humour in his face and the whimsical banter in his voice. 'I'm sorry, Derek. I didn't mean to upset you.'

  'You've done more than that. You've made me angry at the way you belittle yourself.' He saw the surprise on her face and nodded his head vigorously. 'Yes—belittle yourself! Look in the mirror, Carolyn. Take a good look and tell me if you think you're the sort of woman that needs to be an heiress before a man will ask her to marry him. Do you think I'd give up my freedom for a woman I didn't love just in order to have money? If I wanted cash so desperately I could have become a society painter years ago. Damn it, Carolyn, the only reason I'm doing it now is so I won't be dependent on you.'

  Regretting her accusation, she ran over to him. 'I'm sorry, Derek. I had no right to say what I did. I guess I'm overwrought.'

  He pushed her away. 'Don't make meaningless apologies.'

  'It's not meaningless. I'm sorry—really I am.'

  She looked at him pleadingly and saw the tenderness leave his body. He looked all of his thirty-four years. There were deep-set wrinkles around his eyes which she had assumed were laughter lines, but now, looking at him with more understanding, she realised that they had been etched by fatigue and work. She could imagine the years he had spent trying to prove himself as an artist without belittling his talent by taking the easy way out, and she wished she could undo the words she had said. 'Please forgive me, Derek, but after the way the Nichols have behaved I find I suspect everybody.'

  'I understand,' he said slowly. 'But I can't bear it when you're suspicious of me.' He put his hands on her shoulders. 'I wish you'd marry me, Carolyn, there's no reason to wait. I know you don't love me as much as I love you, but once you were my wife I'm positive things would be different. Give me a chance to protect you.'

  'Don't rush me,' she pleaded. 'Let's wait until Piotr's completely better.'

  'He'll get better far more quickly than you,' Derek said. 'You're as tense as an overwound spring.'

  Afraid at the closeness of his scrutiny, she made a pretence of looking for a cigarette and, in doing so was able to walk away from him. 'It's not so easy looking after Piotr,' she hedged. 'Being in bed the whole time makes him irritable.'

  'Then let Margaret come here. She was going to come here anyway, and she might as well start now.'

  The idea of having Margaret in the house did not appeal to her although she could not explain why; nor would she have done so for fear of hurting Derek.

  'Is she well enough to work?' Carolyn asked.

  'Of course. You know we arranged she'd come over and take care of Piotr.' He took his pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it. 'As a matter of fact she might as well stay here the whole time. It will do her good to get away from the cottage and it will do you good not to have to take care of Piotr.'

  'I suppose so,' she admitted.

  'I'll tell her to start right away.'

  Margaret arrived at Royston the next morning and took over all the duties concerning Piotr. Carolyn had not envisaged the woman taking
complete control, but for the first few days she was glad of the rest and realised that Derek had been right She was more tired than she had realised.

  Piotr's illness had affected the entire household, and everything seemed to revolve around him. Cook concocted special delicacies to whet his appetite and Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey brought him so many toys that Carolyn felt bound to protest.

  'You can't go on spoiling him,' she said one evening when

  Jeffrey came home carrying a large Meccano set. 'It's only two days ago you bought him a construction building.'

  'This is much better, though—besides, I'm looking forward to playing with it myself.' The smile left Jeffrey's face as he put the box on the table. 'I'd like to get my hands on the driver who knocked him down.'

  'Have the police been able to trace the car?' Mrs. Nichols asked.

  'Not yet. There isn't one single clue.' He moved over to the door. 'I'll go up and see Piotr before he settles down for the night.'

  'Margaret's giving him his supper,' Carolyn said quickly.

  'In that case I'll stay here.' Jeffrey turned back into the room. 'I don't want to say anything about your future sister-in-law, old girl, but I think she's a bit of a battleaxe. I've a feeling that——- ' He stopped as Betty knocked on the door and opened it. She looked at Mrs. Nichols.

  'Cook wanted to know if dinner is at the usual time.'

  'Yes,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'and Mr. Tyssen will be having it with us.'

  It was the first time Carolyn had heard that Alvin Tyssen was dining with them, and the thought of seeing him again was so repugnant to her that she decided to have dinner in her room. Yet to do so without a reason would arouse Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey's curiosity, and she wondered desperately what to do.

  'What's wrong?' Mrs. Nichols asked her. 'You're frowning.'

  'I've got a headache,' Carolyn lied. 'I think I'll go out for a walk.'

  'But it's windy and raining.'

  'The fresh air will do me good.'

  Quickly she collected her coat and hurried from the house. She was nearly at the end of the drive when the Tyssen car shot past her and she drew back into the bushes until it was out of sight. No one had mentioned that Ella or Alvin were coming for dinner and she wondered resentfully whether Jeffrey had done it on purpose. She had not seen Alvin since he had driven her down to Terring and, if she could help it, she would not see him again. Once Jeffrey was married there would be no reason why Alvin should come to the house, and she would impress on Ella not to invite her over when her brother was at home. She walked slowly, head bent against the wind that blew in sharp gusts and almost threatened to blow her off her feet. It was bitingly cold, but the stinging sensation against her face was exhilarating and she battled on. Her eyes smarted and she half closed them. It was for this reason that she did not see the oncoming man until she was almost in front of him.