“Where’s Frederick?” I ask, looking around. “And Clive?”
“Several of the horses got loose, and they went out chasing them, I’m afraid,” Guy says. “You are quite welcome to blame me for the horses as well, even though that is one incident for which I am not at fault We merely happened upon the scene and took advantage of the, well… I accept all blame.”
Belladonna ignores him and directs herself to Nancy. “Where do you live when you aren’t intruding on other people’s property?” she demands.
“In Richmond,” she says. Her cheeks are no longer flushed, and she’s as pale as if she’d seen a ghost in the stables instead of her handsome lover.
“And how do you know this”"a flicker of Belladonna’s crop"“person?”
Guy’s lips twitch, trying to repress a smile.
“We met a week ago, and we … and he … he invited me to drive up here with him,” Nancy says. “I had no idea that"“
“How and where did you meet?” Belladonna demands.
“At a dinner at Bambi Simpson’s. We’re cousins of Dippy Robertson, your neighbor. That’s where I’m going to be staying.”
Belladonna glances at me. I’ll be calling Dippy shortly, to confirm this. Only a woman named Dippy could have a cousin named Bambi.
“We will take you to the Robertsons,” Belladonna says sternly. “I suggest you go with my driver now, or I shall be having an extremely unpleasant conversation with your cousins, and, I promise you, they will be most seriously displeased should I tell them the truth.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers as her eyes fill with tears. Poor silly thing. She doesn’t know that, in her own way, Belladonna is not really angry with her, that she’s actually trying to protect her. Guy’s the one who should be quaking in his boots.
At that moment, Frederick comes into the stables with two of the horses. Clive has untied Artemis and is leading her in. They look at all of us in surprise, and the dogs start barking again. “Is everything all right, ma’am?” Frederick asks as he tries to control the whinnying horses, rearing from the sound and smell of the bloodhounds. His eyes are round with worry.
“What happened?” Belladonna asks him, her voice curt.
“It’s Hermes, as usual. In a right stroppy mood, he was, so I thought to take him out for a bit. I didn’t mean to leave the stables untended, ma’am, but then Essex got loose as well, and, oh lord. It’s just that they was acting so strange, spooked like, and I didn’t want no harm to come to them. I shoulda left Clive behind. I’m terribly sorry.” He is hanging his head in guilt and shame.
“It’s my fault, ma’am,” Clive says. “I know I shouldna left. It was wrong of me. Please, don’t blame my father. We know better.”
“There’s no one to blame, Clive,” she tells him, her voice so low that only he can hear it, and Clive tries to smile.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Frederick says. “It won’t happen again.”
She nods and puts her crop briefly on his shoulder, then does the same to Clive, who is now anxiously rubbing down the horses after their impromptu gallop.
Stan and the dogs saunter off toward the garage to tell Templeton to bring the car up to the house. We show Guy and Nancy out, walking behind them on the flagstone path lined with hollyhocks and roses, up to the house. Guy has his arm protectively around a sniveling Nancy, but I can tell he’s bored with her already. She probably thought she’d be having the romance of the century with this dashingly romantic Englishman when all she got was a romp in the hay. At least she’s no spy, I console myself about this terribly embarrassing breach in our security. Of all the things for Belladonna to stumble upon, this is"
Suddenly, we hear children’s voices shouting in the distance, and we all stop. It’s Bryony, running around the trees with Susannah. They see us, wave, and run over. For some reason, I look over at Guy, and am surprised to see that his skin has gone deathly gray under his tan.
Bryony comes closer, laughing. “Guess what!” she says. “Susannah found a frog. Or a toad. He’s so cute. Look!”
Susannah walks over with the toad cupped carefully in her hands.
“Can we keep him, Mommy? Can we? Please?” Bryony pleads with her mother. “Please oh please oh please?”
Belladonna crouches down. “Oh, he’s a lovely toad,” she says, her voice startlingly unlike what it had been with Guy only minutes before, “but don’t you think his own mommy will miss him? And all his brothers and sisters? They’re probably frantic right now, looking for him. Listen.” She stands up and cups her hand to her ear. “I can hear them croaking from here. I bet they’re telling each other that this little toad is missing. Quick, go put him back where you found him, before his whole family gets upset. Okay?”
Bryony and Susannah look at each other, burst into giggles, and run off. I glance carefully at Guy again, who regains his composure as we reach the house. Nancy points to her bags in the front hall, next to his. Blinken takes them, beckoning to Nancy to follow him. “I’m sorry,” she says again as Guy kisses her cheeks good-bye.
“We’ll see you at the party tomorrow,” I tell Nancy, and her face brightens considerably. “Do tell the Robertsons we’re looking forward to seeing them as well.” I can only imagine the explanation she’ll be giving Dippy about this.No doubt it’ll be something gushy about our beautiful grounds and welcoming hospitality.
“Where’s Laura?” Belladonna asks me.
“She must have gone for a walk,” I reply. “Toward the rose garden.” In the other direction, naturally. Had she been in the house when Guy arrived, Belladonna could have been spared this ridiculous encounter. Oh well, something will come of it, I tell myself. Something unusual.
“Where should we put Guy?” I ask, looking at his battered but still handsome suitcases.
“In the yellow room,” Belladonna says coldly.
Guy looks at her strangely. “I’ve been called many things,” he says quietly, “but never a coward.”
“The yellow bedroom is my daughter’s favorite,” Belladonna says, her voice as frigid as the ice in our punch bowl. “Since she seems to have had such an extreme effect on you, it will no doubt please her that you’re in it. She chose the wallpaper and the colors in the room.”
Tucking her crop smartly behind her elbow like a soldier, my observant darling strides out of the house, and Guy’s eyes do not leave her until she is too far away to see.
14
Left in
the Dust
When Laura sees that Guy has arrived her eyes light up and she gives him a swift hug, but her face crumples in disappointment when she realizes that Hugh is not with him.
“He’s trying his best,” Guy tells her gently.
Luckily for me, I have hidden myself in one of my favorite places during this interlude, tucked behind a large lacquered Chinese screen luridly painted with dragons hitched to chariots and other hideous scenes, in one of the little studies off the grand salon. It is perfect for peering from behind its hinges. Although when Guy and Laura sit down on the leather chesterfield with a slight whoosh, I have no idea I am about to be privy to such a tender scene.
“He has business in Washington; you know that,” he goes on. “It’s the only way he was able to leave London. He swore he’d do everything in his power to be here tonight. In the meantime, I shall try my best to entertain you.”
“I hear you already entertained the household today,” Laura says, her voice low. “Really, Guy, how could you?”
“Yes, I confess it was naughty,” he says nonchalantly. “But my little romp wasn’t premeditated, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nancy’s a sweet young thing, and the stables were empty. You know me. If the flesh is willing, carpe diem.”
“Yes, I do know you, which is why I’m so mortified that your flesh is so willing,” she says, her anger growing. “This isn’t our sparkling London set where everyone seems to be bonking everyone else. Do you have any idea who the Contessa is, or that I’ve waited for ye
ars to hear from her? That she’s my only link to Leandro and Beatrice? I do wish you’d think of someone other than yourself for once.”
I hear Guy swirling the ice cubes around in his drink, and he takes a while to reply. “I’m sorry, Laura,” he says eventually. “Truly I am. I should never have been so thoughtless. And now our estimable hostess loathes me as well.”
“Well, I certainly don’t loathe you. You know no one can stay mad at you for long, unless it’s one of the thousands of lovers you’ve sent packing back to their husbands. That’s your problem"you always seem to be able to get away with everything, no matter what.”
“Not always,” he says. “I think I’ve met my match. Tell me about her.”
“You mean the Contessa?” Laura says, and starts to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? She’s attractive, rich, clever. More attractive, rich, and clever than nearly any woman I’ve ever met, in fact. But there’s something about her I can’t quite put my finger on. Something bubbling underneath the surface that’s absolutely fascinating. Doesn’t she strike you as unusual?”
“Yes, but in truth it’s not so much unusual as terrifying. I barely know her; I’d only really seen her once before, when I was in Merano with Leandro, and I don’t care to recollect that ridiculous incident at all.”
“You were never ridiculous, dearest Laura,” he says, ever the smoothie. “When were you in Merano?”
“Seven years ago. Yes, it was nineteen forty-seven. She was with her baby and two of the oddest men I’d ever seen. One of them is still here with her"Tomasino. You’ve met him, I’m sure.”
“The fat one with the curly black hair.”
“He’s not fat. He’s merely large,” Laura says stoutly in my defense, and when she does, my heart flips over. I have quite forgotten that I ever disliked her at all. “Tomasino moves so gracefully I can’t think of him as fat. And he’s ever so amusing. The odd thing is that his twin brother, Matteo, was much more like the Contessa. Quite off-putting. He rarely spoke, as I recall. Leandro told me they’d both been tortured in the war, that something perfectly ghastly had happened, and that Matteo also had his tongue cut out. When Tomasino told me his brother had gotten married I was ever so surprised; he always struck me as, well, removed somehow. Certainly not the type to fall in love. Not that Tomasino isn’t; he merely hides it better. So does the Contessa.”
“I see. Yes. That makes sense. I’ve barely spent any time with her, but already there is this feeling of something coiled inside her, something watchful and hard,” Guy says thoughtfully. “Not fearful, exactly, but immensely wary. When we first met, when I was watching her in the stables, I had the sense that her anger wasn’t so much directed at what I’d done"which was inexcusably presumptuous, I admit"but at the breach in her security on the estate. She doesn’t like not being in control. That much is obvious.”
“She learned that from Leandro, I’m sure. He had hidden security all over Ca’ d’ Oro. It’s rather a necessity when you’re that rich and that powerful. Nor is it just paranoia, being worried about spies and kidnappings and such things.”
“Yes, but security can be used not only to keep people out but to be able to control them when they’re in.”
Oh ho, he’s definitely a dangerous one, this Guy. Deftly perceptive.
“Perhaps. Tomasino would be the one to ask about that. Or Orlando,” Laura says. “I remember him from Italy; he was in charge of security there.”
“He’s the way to get to the Contessa, no doubt. The merely large and graceful Tomasino, that is.”
“I doubt mat anyone can get to the Contessa if she doesn’t want them to. Leandro always said she had a forceful will,” Laura says. “Do you know, we had a long talk the other night; Tomasino asked me questions, and she sat on the veranda with us, in a rocking chair. Now that I think about it, she hardly said a word, yet I walked away with the impression that it was one of the most wonderful conversations I’d ever had.”
“So you don’t know how long she’s lived here.”
“I’m not quite sure. A few years, perhaps. She was in Italy when Leandro died, and that was three years ago. We lost touch until recently. Why do you ask?”
“Because she reminds me of someone.”
“Who?”
“Belladonna. From the club. The enigmatic lady of the night. She certainly had a forceful will of her own.”
“Yes, she did. I still wear colored kidskin gloves because of her.”
“You sang in her club, didn’t you?”
“Yes, darling Guy, but you weren’t there that night, were you?”
“No, my angel, I wasn’t; I had to leave town before you, remember.”
“Chased out of town was probably more like it,” she says fondly.
“Well, I’m surprised I passed muster with the dogs. Twice, as a matter of fact.”
“Everyone was. No one more than I.” Laura laughs softly. “I wonder whatever happened to the club. It shut down as mysteriously as it opened, didn’t it?”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Guy says, rattling his ice cubes. “I might be crazy for wondering it, but do you think your Contessa could possibly be Belladonna herself?”
There is a long pause. “I never thought about it,” Laura says finally, “and I don’t think I ever would had you not just mentioned it And you know, I don’t think you’re right. The Contessa is quite"what’s the word?"retiring. She’s silent. She strikes me as someone who wants only to be left alone, who’s actually terribly shy. Belladonna was much more confident and in control, at least with me. I should think it takes a tremendous amount of energy and self-possession to mingle with people in a nightclub. I don’t see how someone who’s shy and reticent could pull it off, do you? I know I couldn’t.”
“No, not really. I expect you’re right,” Guy says. “I mention it only because something doesn’t quite fit. You said the Contessa already had her baby with her when she met Leandro.”
“Yes, Bryony. She was quite tiny, only a few months old. The Contessa was with the baby and Tomasino and Matteo at Merano.”
“So Leandro isn’t Bryony’s real father?”
“No, but he adopted her. I think that’s one of the reasons they were married, so Bryony could have a father and his name. I don’t know if Bryony even knows. But I’ll never ask the Contessa about it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Her private life with Leandro is none of my business, and none of yours, either. I’ve said much more than I should already.”
“You know I am discreet about such matters.”
“Yes, but I also know that you’re a prying so-and-so. And I must get dressed now, and have a good cry because Hugh’s not here.”
“I shouldn’t give up hope quite yet.”
“I have given up hope yonks ago, dear Guy,” she says with some bitterness. “I love Hugh so much that I can allow myself no hope. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my dear. At least I hope I do.”
“Do you promise to behave yourself tonight?”
“I shall try my best.”
“Good. Come along now, and you can help me button my dress.”
“With pleasure.”
I hear the whoosh of the leather sofa’s cushions as they get up, and their footsteps receding into the grand salon. My knee starts to throb with a sudden spasm. Hearing Guy compare the Contessa with Belladonna is worrisome, to put it mildly.
As if she already doesn’t want him banished from her sight.
“Night, Mommy.” Bryony gets up from the dinner table and gives her mother a kiss and a hug.
“Night, Bryony’s Mommy,” Susannah says shyly, and they run off. Susannah is much too terrified of Belladonna to venture close enough for a hug. The two little girls are on their best behavior, because Susannah’s sleeping over in Bryony’s bedroom tonight, and Belladonna told them that if they’re good, they can both stay up late for the party tomorrow and then have a sleep-over at the Baineses’ house. One less thi
ng to worry about. They needn’t know that our security spies will be posted outside Susannah’s house during the night, just in case.
Rosalinda shoos them upstairs, and we move into the grand salon to relax over several different flavors of eau-de-vie. Guy has been perfectly charming, telling silly stories that had both children and adults enthralled. Now, naturally, the storytelling is going to develop a slightly more grownup flavor.
“That was a lovely dinner,” Laura says, and Belladonna forces herself to give a faint smile. I realize suddenly with a terrible frisson that I am feeling entirely alone, missing my brother something fierce. And Jack. Someone I know well and trust; another male presence. I didn’t realize until we’d left New York how much I always relied on Jack’s calm, steady demeanor. He never asked for anything; he did his job, and then wanted to do more.
All for the love of Belladonna.
Matteo and Jack, both far away, both inextricably entwined with our lives in New York. I’d invited them to this party, of course, practically begging, which as you might have guessed is not a trait that comes naturally to yours truly, but they both pleaded their busy schedules. The only bit of good news was hearing from Matteo that he thinks Jack has been stepping out with Alison, just as this matchmaker had hoped.
But there is no match for me, and I think a bit of my woe shows in my face. Belladonna touches my shoulder tightly as she passes by with a slender glass of Poire William, her favorite.
“I hope Matteo and Annabeth can come with the children this summer,” I say, for lack of anything better. “But they’ll probably want to go to a camp instead.”
“What exactly is a ‘camp’?” Laura asks.
“Summer camp,” I explain. “For kids to spend the lovely hot weather, tucked away out of sight of their parents, in hideous little houses called ‘cabins.’ There, they are forced to endure ridiculous activities like arts’ n’ crafts and organized sports.” I shudder in mock horror.
“One doesn’t do ‘camp’ where I come from,” Guy says.
Belladonna Page 31