by Anne Hampson
'I look ten years older than I am.' She sighed, and at that moment her ears caught the sound of a car turning into the short drive to the house. Her heart lurching at the idea of the police coming to say Stephen had been arrested, she hurried to the door, hoping to open it before the bell could ring. It was disgraceful of the police to come at this time—
'You!' she gasped, staring in disbelief at the man standing on the doorstep, his arrogant features cold and brittle. 'What do you want?' She shook her head in utter bewilderment. 'It's so early,' she added, feeling foolish, yet she had to say something.
'I know what time it is. But I have a plane to catch in just over two hours and I've things to say to you.' His eyes raked her body with icy distaste, and blushing hotly at the knowledge that her dressing gown was open at the front, revealing the transparent nightgown beneath it, she pulled the edges together and tied the cord. The hasty action brought a sardonic curve to his lips, and the sudden surge of hatred that swept through her knotted the muscles of her stomach. 'May I come in for a few minutes? As I said, there are things I want to talk to you about.'
Automatically, she drew the door wider, her thoughts switching to the couple upstairs, and she prayed that they would sleep for a little while longer. He came straight to the point once they were in the living room.
'You're to give my brother up,' he said harshly. 'I'm familiar with your type. You're just another gold digger who thinks she has a fool to deal with. As Dendras's guardian and protector of his fortune I have no intention of allowing him to marry you, so you can put the idea right out of your head!' He was standing in the middle of the room, a towering, menacing figure whose whole attitude was one of unmitigated contempt. 'I know I gave my consent, because of the information he offered me, but after meeting you I have changed my mind.'
Fighting for control, and at the same time infinitely curious, she said tersely, 'This information… er… what exactly did Dendras say to you?'
The dark eyes raked her with the same contempt as before. 'You know what he said! But I have changed my mind in spite of it. There will be no marriage between you and my brother!'
Kim let out an explosive breath, forgetting her curiosity as sheer fury took full possession of her mind. Yet, strangely, her voice was quiet and controlled as she said, 'You're so sure that my aim is to marry Dendras, but—'
'I have very little time at my disposal,' he cut in, glancing at his watch. 'All I've come here to say is that you can forget about marrying my brother!'
Kim's teeth snapped together. She had been on the point of telling him that she had no intention whatsoever of marrying his brother, but his arrogance, his air of superiority, and the contempt he made no effort to hide—all these combined to create an irresistible desire to keep him in suspense. She calmly reminded him that in a few month's time Dendras would be able to please himself, as he would have come of age. Almost immediately, though, she regretted her words and yet, paradoxically, she knew a tinge of satisfaction at hearing him grit his teeth in frustration.
'You are years older than he,' stated Vidas, his eyes searing her face as if he would create lines that were not there. 'I want your promise that you will leave my brother alone. He has his studies to think about—'
'Am I to understand,' broke in Kim quietly, 'that there have been other… er… gold diggers who have had ideas about marrying Dendras?'
'Several! And he always thinks he is madly in love!' A sneer caught his underlip, a sure indication of what he thought about love! 'I must admit, in all fairness, that you seem to be a little different from the others.' There was a frown between his eyes as he subjected her to a most searching scrutiny. 'Perhaps you have something to say in your defence?'
Now, of course, would be the time to confess that she had never had any intention of marrying his brother— or it would have been the time if he had not included those words '—in your own defence.'
Somehow they ignited a fierce and overriding increase in her animosity towards him, and instead of putting his mind at rest she found herself saying, 'No, Mr. Christou, I have nothing to say "in my defence," as you care to put it. I live my own life and take orders from no one. I am sorry to disappoint you—'
'You're determined to marry him?' White-hot fury robbed his face of its healthy tan. Kim watched the threatening clenching and unclenching of his lean brown fingers and knew without any doubt at all that he would love to have them round her throat. 'Woman, you will live to rue the day you set my authority at nought!'
Although trembling from head to foot, Kim managed to retain an outward calm, her voice surprisingly steady as, glancing at her wristwatch, she said, 'I must ask you to leave, Mr. Christou. You will appreciate that this is a most inopportune time for me to be dallying with visitors.'
She saw his eyes smoulder, his thin nostrils flare, and then, without another word, he turned, and before she could precede him to the door, he was gone, leaving it wide open behind him.
Kim stood there motionless for a long time after he left. She was endeavouring to assess her feelings, for while on the one hand she felt nothing but dislike for the man, she was at the same time vitally aware of an odd sensation of gloom at the idea that he regarded her with such unmitigated scorn. It suddenly occurred to her that she was standing motionless, in a trancelike pose, her mind wholly occupied with the insufferable Vidas Christou. She had other, more important matters to which she ought to be giving her full attention!
The morning passed slowly, while Kim and her parents talked about the possibility of their leaving the district.
'Your father and I would have gone to a warmer, sunnier part of the world a long time ago if it hadn't been for you and Stephen,' Mrs. Rosswell admitted in an unguarded moment of stress. 'But although we decided we could let Stephen fend for himself, we couldn't leave you, Kim, and now it's too late. Our money won't stretch far enough.'
'I could have managed,' protested Kim in a pained little voice. 'Oh, Mother, why didn't you tell me what you and Father would have liked to do?'
'It's not important now, love,' interposed her father gently. He seemed to have recovered miraculously, being very much better than when Kim had seen him last night. 'I believe in fate, myself, and if it's meant that your mother and I are to find peace and contentment in our old age, then we shall certainly do so. Otherwise…' His voice trailed off to a significant silence and Kim turned away, an involuntary shudder passing through her body. She found herself dwelling on what Dendras had said about fate, and now her father had mentioned it as well. Kim found the word hammering in her brain, and for some incomprehensible reason her thoughts insisted that the two occurrences were inextricably linked.
Lunchtime arrived and still nothing had come of the discussions.
'There isn't any way we could raise sufficient money for a move,' Mrs. Rosswell said bleakly, as Kim rose from her chair to begin preparing the meal. She and her father had mentioned their having thought of living in Spain because several of their friends were retired there. It seemed that in some parts a community of English people had settled and Mr. and Mrs. Rosswell felt they could have adapted quite easily, but it seemed as if it was not to be.
'The apartments which some of our friends bought a few years ago have trebled in price.' Mr. Rosswell sighed. 'And so I can't see us ever being able to get away from here. Besides, if we're to escape the scandal, then it would have to be in the very near future.'
Kim went to the kitchen, her heart heavy. For her father was right. If the move were to be effective, then it must take place quickly, and not by any stretch of the imagination could Kim see this happening.
Dendras dead! Shocked and trembling, Kim stared at the tall foreigner who had brought the news, the man who, only a week before, had ordered her to give his brother up.
'It—it seems impossible.' She faltered, thinking of the utter waste of a young life. 'It ran onto the pavement, you said? The lorry, I mean.' She scarcely knew what she was saying, so heavy was her heart. It
was said that troubles never came singly, and how true that was! Yesterday afternoon the police had called again, and her father, though bearing up while they were there, had broken down and gone straight to bed when they left.
'Yes.' Vidas's mouth was tight, his handsome face twisted in pain. 'So young.' He paused, looking at her. It was Sunday, and she had washed her hair and set it. She had determinedly made herself don something smart and colourful, hoping to encourage her mother to make an effort with her own appearance, for she was letting herself go, oppressed with misery as she had been this past week. Kim had succeeded in her objective, for her mother had put on a blue linen suit and taken her husband for a stroll in the park. 'I thought I would call and tell you in person rather than using the telephone.'
'It was good of you,' she murmured, wanting to assure him that she had never intended to marry his brother, but aware that this was scarcely the time for such an admission. It did not matter anyway, since she would never be seeing this man again, or so she thought. However, his next words were, 'You will want to attend the funeral, I suppose?'
She bit her lip; attending a funeral at this time was the last thing she wanted, but she supposed she ought to do so. She wished she had been honest with Vidas at first, and not let him believe that her relationship with Dendras had gone deeper than mere friendship—at least not on her part. However, there was nothing to be done now and she agreed to attend the funeral.
'It's on Wednesday at ten o'clock in the morning.' He gave her the full details and then left. And again she stood for a long while, silent and still, her mind confused, for this time new emotions had been stirred, emotions she had never experienced in her life before.
Kim did not tell her parents she was attending a funeral. She simply took time off from work, wishing more than ever that she did not have to go; she was sufficiently weighed down with worry already. Stephen had been arrested a few hours after Vidas's visit on Sunday, and the police had constantly been on the doorstep ever since; it seemed plain that they suspected her parents of receiving some of the ill-gotten gains. She must be passing through the blackest period she would ever experience in the whole of her life, Kim thought, for nothing could ever drag her spirits any lower than this.
Vidas met her outside the church. He seemed grimmer than ever, but there was another aspect about his demeanour that not only puzzled her but brought to mind the mystery—the mystery of what Dendras had said in order to get his brother's consent to the marriage—a marriage which in any case was destined never to take place.
After the funeral Vidas invited Kim to have lunch with him; she agreed, suspecting he would have insisted if she had refused. He obviously had something of vital importance to say to her, she realised, and in fact they had scarcely sat down at the table when he said, 'As you know, I am aware that you are pregnant, that you are expecting my brother's child.' So quiet and dispassionate the voice! Kim, the napkin she'd been about to shake out poised in trembling hands, could only gape at him, while the hot blood rushed into her cheeks.
'He—Dendras t-told you I—I…' Kim's voice trailed off into an incredulous silence as, in a flash, so much that had previously puzzled her was explained.
'Yes,' came the grim voice again. 'He told me about your condition—but we waste words since you already know that. Last Sunday I called with the intention of offering you a sum of money to give Dendras up, but your attitude was such that I lost my temper and walked out without making the offer.'
A light entered Kim's eyes. An idea was suddenly born… She tried to put it from her but found herself saying, 'I suppose you are reconsidering, and will offer me money for—for the child—' Her nerves tightened and her throat went dry. What on earth was she about? How could she have intended, even for one moment, to rob this man? Unspeakably disgusted with herself, she tried desperately to reject the idea, but it persisted like the echo of a dream, recurring over and over again until it became an obsession, inextricably linked to her parents' plight. Rising before her was their miserable situation, and the added misery they would shortly endure when Stephen's trial came up. The disgrace would in all probability put an end to her father's life, and Kim suspected that her mother would not live long after him. She lifted troubled eyes to the man opposite her, a man of such great wealth he would never miss the sum of money required for the peace and happiness of her parents. And yet, her idea was too dishonest, too unscrupulous. Why, she could never live with her conscience!
But could she live with her conscience if she allowed her mother and father to suffer when she had it in her power to save them that suffering? Torn apart by the confusion, she put a trembling hand to her stomach, for she felt physically sick. Vidas, watching her closely, noticed the action, noticed too the ghastly pallor of her face. His eyes narrowed. She had the impression that there was pity somewhere behind that inscrutable stare, yet on the surface she saw only an implacable hardness, a total lack of compassion. Perhaps it was this that made her say, in tones husky and low, 'The settlement—what will it… amount to?'
'I am not now offering you money,' he returned, taking the menu from the waiter. 'In my family there is a tradition whereby, in a case such as yours, another member of the family will offer marriage, in order to give the child a name, and in this case an heir will be ensured as well.'
'In th-this case?' Kim quivered, her mind dazed by the situation in which she found herself. Clear thought was practically impossible, but she had to speak.
'I happen to be the only eligible male.' Coolly, he opened the menu and began to look through it, just as if his last words had been no more than a casual remark about something of little or no importance. The man must be insensible! He had no feelings; emotion seemed to be totally absent from his makeup.
'You are?' was all she could find to say as she sought for a handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from her forehead and the palms of her hands.
'I am offering you marriage,' he said, pausing from his survey of the fare to glance at her over the menu. 'It is the custom; also, marriage to you happens to suit a purpose I have in mind.'
'A purpose?' She suspected she knew what it was, but again she had to say something. 'And what is that?'
'It need not trouble you. Have you decided what you are going to eat?'
'I haven't seen a menu. In any case, I'm not hungry.'
The dark Greek eyes fixed hers. 'You need to eat,' he said authoritatively. 'We want a robust, healthy child.'
And I want to laugh, she thought—to laugh out loud in order to relieve this feeling of hysteria. Instead, she said, in tones amazingly steady, 'I have no wish to marry you, Mr. Christou, but the money would come in very useful at this time… because I shall have to give up my job.' What was she doing! This was not like her at all! Where was her honour? Why had she not been open with this man before now?
Fate… The word hammered in her brain, and alongside it the fact that she held an ace in her hand. Why should she not use it for the benefit of her parents?
'It is marriage,' she heard Vidas say through the chaos of her mind, 'or nothing. I am not now willing to offer you money.' Implacable the tone, forbidding argument.
'If I do agree to marry you, then I would want a settlement as well.' Slowly, the request came and she thought afterwards that some force over which she had no control was shaping all her words and actions. She did not even stop to think what marriage to this man would mean, what her life would be like or how her whole future would be affected. All she knew was that she must persuade him to give her money. And then, without warning, her brain cleared and the important fact leapt out at her. If she did marry Vidas, she would have to explain, in the near future, that she was not having a child. Her eyes darted to his. He would murder her, she thought, her glance now on his hands. Yes, he would slowly crush the life out of her with those slender fingers about her throat. She shuddered involuntarily as she accepted the menu he passed over to her.
'There will be no settlement. I am offering y
ou marriage, with the benefits of a home and the status of a wife. That is all. I am offering you neither money nor a normal marriage.'
'I must have money!'
'Nothing doing. What sort of a fool do you think I am?'
Kim gritted her teeth at the insult. 'You don't trust me?'
'Correct. It's marriage or nothing.' In spite of the implacability of his words, Kim had the impression that he was disappointed at the way things were going, and this was perfectly understandable if, as she surmised, he wanted to rid himself of his stepmother. She said, watching him closely for any relaxing of that stony, inexorable expression, 'Then it's nothing.'
'Those are your last words?'
'Yes, Mr. Christou, they are my last words.' If he was disappointed so was she. For one triumphant interlude she had believed she held the passport to her parents' happiness in her hand, but now she was right back where she started from—a position of helplessness and despair.
Chapter Three
During the next few days Kim watched her father's condition deteriorate as tension and anxiety built up; she saw her mother become thin and ashen-faced as she and her husband lost all hope of ever finding peace of mind again. And in her frustration at not being able to help, it was only natural that Kim's mind should repeatedly recapture that meeting with Vidas Christou when he had offered marriage but would not hear of a monetary gift as well. If only there was a way in which she could persuade him to change his mind. He had been adamant about genuinely wanting her to accept his offer even though he had not wanted her to marry Dendras. The more she dwelt on it, the more attractive the idea of writing to him and telling him the reason for her wanting money became. Perhaps she would touch some cord of compassion hidden in his Greek nature. At last, having made a firm decision, she went up to her room and took from a drawer the calling card given her by Dendras. The address was short and impressive: Castello Astura, Malindos, Greece.