But Sylvia was not to be shaken off so easily. She followed him to the liquor cabinet. Though she tried to speak softly, her voice carried to Tony and Wendy. “Was that really necessary? For a common working girl?”
Tony looked at Wendy, startled. Without thinking, she told him softly, in a miserable voice, “I’m afraid she recognizes the dress. It was Lady Pellen’s.”
Now Tony’s eyes widened also with condemnation. He swore under his breath, ending with, “So you’ve been bleeding him already.”
Then he was looking fixedly at the door, as though afraid of what he might add.
Sylvia sat on a chair opposite Wendy. Her voice was stiff. “Good evening, Miss Pratt. Did you accomplish any work this afternoon? Or perhaps you found it rather easier to do your work before Tony and I arrived?”
Wendy replied quietly, “I assure you, it makes no difference who is in the castle.”
Sylvia only stared, but Wendy caught Tony’s soft comment. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”
Fortunately no one else heard him. Richard looked too embarrassed to speak and Wendy wished she were back in London. She could well understand how Lady Sylvia must be feeling if she had indeed recognized the dress, and she hadn’t meant to make matters worse. Perhaps if she wore the same dress every night until Lady Sylvia left, she needn’t know about the other two. Just then, Charles came to announce dinner.
Somehow they managed small talk for two hours. That was how long dinner took, for the cook had made a special effort. Finally, it was time for the ladies to withdraw. With some trepidation, Wendy followed Lady Sylvia to the music room.
Once there, Sylvia paced for several minutes. “What are you really here for?” she demanded at last.
“Not Lord Richard!” Wendy answered gently. “And believe me, even if I wanted to, I could never compete with you.”
Sylvia continued pacing. Then, unexpectedly, she sat down at the piano and began playing furiously. It was a piece by Beethoven. The piece was a difficult one, and it soon became obvious that Lady Sylvia was an expert pianist. Without a pause, she moved from that piece to one by Bach.
The men joined them before it was finished, but Sylvia still did not stop. She was calmer, and the Brahms sonata she played next reflected this. As the last notes died away, Sylvia turned and smiled triumphantly at Wendy. “Your turn.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t play. I haven’t any gift for music, you see.”
Now that Sylvia had relaxed, she seemed determined to be pleasant. “You’re fortunate,” she told Wendy. “It means you’ve escaped years of dreary lessons and practicing.”
“I have no gift for music, either,” Richard said with amusement, “and I still had to take lessons. It took four years before my parents realized it was hopeless.”
Tony laughed. “You should have done what I did! I caused my music tutor so much trouble that he refused to return after the fifth lesson. And he told my parents I was hopeless. I shall always remember him fondly for that.”
“But you must enjoy playing,” Wendy protested to Sylvia, “or you couldn’t be half so good at it.”
She merely smiled and walked over to sit next to Richard. As he smiled at her, she asked quietly, “When will Miss Pratt be finished with her work here?”
Richard shrugged uncomfortably. “Oh, another two weeks, I should think.”
Sylvia frowned and asked more sharply than she had intended, “And must you really stay here the whole time?”
“Yes!” Richard’s answer was curt.
“Why? Wouldn’t Tony do as well? You wouldn’t mind, would you, Tony?” she pleaded.
“No, he would not do!” Richard retorted.
Tony regarded Wendy with raised eyebrows. But what he said was, “Come, Syl! You must realize Richard is tired of London and the social whirl. He needs some time to relax.”
The Earl did not deny this interpretation. Sylvia seemed unconvinced, however. The silence grew until Tony said, “I’m tired, even if no one else is. Good night, all. Wendy, shall I escort you to your room?”
She nodded and reached for her crutches, anxious to escape the tension, even if it meant facing a sarcastic Tony. As they moved the short distance to her room, he asked, “Well, are you pleased with yourself?”
She smiled sweetly at him, wanting to vent her frustration on someone. “Shouldn’t I be?”
As he stared at her, Wendy closed the door in his face. Fortunately, the walls were thick and she could not hear the voices next door.
The breakfast tray arrived half an hour late the next morning, and Wendy was beginning to wonder if she was expected to go to the dining room.
“I’m sorry, Miss Pratt,” Gwen said with a harassed air, “but I thought you wouldn’t mind if I served you last.”
“Trouble?” Wendy asked sympathetically.
Gwen smiled wryly. “Well, it’s just that with extra guests there is so much more to do. And Lady Sylvia is used to a…larger staff.”
Wendy nodded. “Not to worry. I understand and promise not to be impatient.”
“Thank you, Miss Pratt,” the maid said with evident relief.
As the door closed behind Gwen, Wendy poured herself a cup of tea. It was tepid. Oh, well, she thought philosophically, I don’t really count anyway. When she had finished eating, she rather timidly proceeded to the library. She noted, with relief, that Lord Richard was not there. Soon she was absorbed in her work.
Sometime later, Wendy was aware of a footstep behind her. Glancing at her watch, she saw, with a frown, that it was too early for lunch. Reluctant to speak with either Richard or his guests, she pretended not to notice. After a while, however, she began to be flustered and was unable to work.
Setting down her pen, she turned to see Tony looking over her shoulder. “Yes?” she asked coldly.
“So you actually are a translator,” he said with mock surprise. “May I ask why you needed to work here at Trondelaine? I hadn’t realized Richard had such an unusual collection of Spanish literature.”
Wendy sighed, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”
“No,” he said agreeably.
She shrugged. “Well, I don’t intend to answer any questions, so you needn’t waste any more time here.”
Tony raised his eyebrows and moved away from her desk. He pretended to look through the bookshelves and select a book. Smiling mockingly in Wendy’s direction, he chose the seat next to her desk to pretend to read it. Actually, he was watching her. Not surprisingly, she found it difficult to work under these conditions. In exasperation, after half an hour, she set down her pen again and looked at Tony. Smiling lazily, he met her eyes.
“All right,” she said, “why are you so interested in me?”
“I told you,” he replied seriously, “Sylvia is my friend.”
“So? Pardon my skepticism, but I don’t find that a sufficient excuse,” Wendy said coolly.
His eyes flashed briefly, but Tony’s voice was calm as he said, “Why? Is friendship so shallow in the circles you move in? Never mind, I’ll explain if you insist. I’ve known Sylvia a long time. As I said last night, I really don’t belong in the circles I move in. It wasn’t easy for me in the schools I went to. But Syl accepted me from the beginning and understood how I felt. She gave me the stamp of approval, often insisting that if I was not invited to some affair, she would not attend. And, at times, when I was very depressed, she would talk with me. She’s a very special person.”
He held up a hand. “I know. You see her as a wealthy, spoiled, catty woman. One who seems rather hard. But I know she’s not just that; she’s also sensitive. Or hasn’t it ever occurred to you that many people hide their vulnerability with a hard shell?”
Wendy bit her lip. At that moment, she had an inexplicable urge to put her hand on his arm and explain. She wanted to tell him she did understand and that she really wasn’t after Lord Richard. That, in fact, he disliked and distrusted her. But she hesitated too long and Tony stood, looking do
wn at her.
His voice was bitter. “Never mind. I don’t expect you to know what I’m talking about!” He strode to the library door where he paused to add, “But I warn you. I intend to interfere with your little scheme. I gather Richard is blind at the moment. But I intend to see that doesn’t last long.”
Then he was gone and Wendy was left trying to control her temper. Her recent resolutions crumbled and, in their place, she determined to be as provocative as possible.
The next few days were as uncomfortable as Wendy had feared. As Lord Richard grew increasingly irritated by Sylvia’s jealousy, he reacted by feeding it. After the third evening that Wendy wore the plum dress, he told her to wear the velvet the next night and the chiffon the night after. She disobeyed, of course, and when she appeared in the James Room, he informed her that if she did not change, she could expect not to eat that evening.
It seemed easier to change than to argue. And after all, Wendy told herself, what difference did it make if Lady Sylvia became jealous? It was none of her affair. Returning to the James Room a few minutes later, she found Tony and Sylvia with the Earl. The reactions were swift and emphatic. “Damn him!” Sylvia muttered, and whirled to confront Richard.
The Earl ignored her and, smiling at Wendy, asked, “Ali, good evening, my dear. Care for some sherry?”
As Wendy nodded in confusion, she felt Tony’s eyes on her and his voice softly saying, “Rather better than your first effort. You’re quite good at this business, aren’t you?”
Flushing, Wendy ignored him and quickly sat in a chair, far from the others, as though she were trying to hide. There was that in Lord Richard’s eyes, as he handed her the sherry, that made her uneasy. And it was with relief that she saw the servant appear to announce dinner. Dinner. Somehow she managed to survive the meal. But she did not follow Sylvia to the music room afterward. Instead, she fled to her own room. A moment after she closed the door, there was a knock. “Yes?” she said in a voice that tried to sound calm.
Sylvia slipped into the room without asking permission, and moved to a seat near Wendy. “Do you mind if I smoke?” Wendy shook her head. After a moment, Sylvia said coolly, “All right, Miss Pratt. What are you after?”
“Not Lord Richard,” she replied wearily.
“My dear, every woman is after Richard! Or his money. What do you want? Money? Title? Romance?”
“Romance. But not with Lord Richard. I happen to be engaged to a young man in London,” Wendy said quietly but forcefully.
Lady Sylvia paused, as though considering this. She almost seemed satisfied. “Then why are you here?” she asked more calmly. “I can’t believe your publishers really sent you down here.”
Wendy hesitated, wanting badly to tell her the truth. But she had promised Lord Richard she would not. And she honestly could not tell if the truth would make Lady Sylvia any happier. After all, Lord Richard knew her well.
“Lady Sylvia,” she said, “I know it sounds strange. But truthfully, I did not ask to stay here. Nor did Lord Richard ask me to come to the castle. Why don’t you ask him if you have any doubts?”
“Because he won’t talk about it!” she burst out. Then, stubbing out her cigarette and lighting another, she made an effort to be calm. “All he says is that it’s none of my affair! And that I have nothing to be jealous about! But why, damn it, has he given you those dresses? And why is he always watching you?”
Wendy leaned back in her chair, regarding the elegant young woman. Emerald earrings and a matching bracelet caught the light, flickering. Sylvia wore a swirling green dress, sleeveless, with a deep neck-a soft yet sophisticated dress. It was unquestionably from Paris. Why should this woman fear or resent her?
“Lady Sylvia,” she said gently, “I suppose he lent me the dresses because I was too ignorant to bring any with me. And it offended Lord Richard’s sense of aesthetics to see me dressed inappropriately. Does it matter so much?”
“Only that he lied! Look, Miss Pratt, you are either innocent or very clever. I don’t know which. But I warn you, I don’t intend to give up Richard!” Sylvia paused. “What have you said to Tony? He claims you’re harmless, but I can see he doesn’t really believe it.”
Wendy slowly turned bright red. “I-1-he was-very rude to me,” she faltered, “and-and made some absurd accusations. I was angry, so I began baiting him, implying that the accusations were true-and that I was proud of them.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got a quick temper,” Wendy said with some embarrassment. “I suppose it was childish of me, but I couldn’t resist. I wanted to infuriate Tony as much as he had infuriated me.”
Sylvia’s laughter was soft. “Well, my dear, you certainly succeeded in doing that. I’ll even admit you may have had provocation. Tony is a wonderful fellow, but he does tend to be rather belligerent at times.” She stubbed out the second cigarette. “All right, Miss Pratt. Good night. I’m not sure whether or not I believe what you’ve told me. But I’ll consider it.”
Wendy merely nodded and watched as Sylvia left the room. For a while, she sat deep in thought. She knew Lord Richard was not interested in her, but, for the first time, she considered the possibility he was using her against Sylvia. Was he gowing tired of his old girl friend? Had they perhaps never been as close as Sylvia wanted to believe? Was he pretending an interest in her to drive Sylvia away?
And if so, was there any way to stop him from using her? Should she, even if she could? Not for the first time, Wendy found herself contemplating Lord Richard with dislike. Did he ever think of anyone except himself? At last, with a sigh, she reached for a book and began to read. Then she needn’t worry about such things.
The next few days were somewhat easier. Lady Sylvia was still suspicious, but less openly so. In the same degree, Tony was less sarcastic, less mocking with Wendy. He would still visit the library every day and watch her working. But Wendy had grown used to him and could work even when his enigmatic gaze rested on her. The Earl grew more gracious as tensions eased.
But then a clash came on Friday afternoon. Harassed, as always, preparing for the tour group, the servants were slow in their service. None of the others minded, but Lady Sylvia found her irritation growing. She was looking for Lord Richard when she passed the library door. The doctor was rewrapping Wendy’s foot and saying, “Not to worry. It probably means nothing and you’ll be right again quite soon. But I’ll want more X-rays. And how is the dragon, by the way? Have you charmed Richard yet?”
Wendy’s voice was somewhat soft. “He’s been too busy with guests to bother much about me. Someone named Tony and a woman named Sylvia. I’m afraid she’s suspicious of me.”
Now the Doctor’s voice was clear. “I’m not surprised! Did Richard tell her why you’re here?” Wendy’s reply was too soft for Sylvia to hear. “That was stupid!” the doctor said. “Though I admit the truth would be awkward.” There was a murmuring of voices, then clearly, “Lord! I’m surprised she hasn’t scratched your eyes out. Are you sure he just happened to give you those dresses? I admit I’d expect him to find you attractive. What else has Richard given you?”
Sylvia turned away from the library door as she heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Richard and he greeted her casually. “Hello, Syl. Is Wendy in the library?”
“Darling, how should I know where the girl is?” she replied coolly.
He frowned, but said nothing as he pushed past her into the library. With growing curiosity and anger, Sylvia followed. “Oh, hello, Roger,” the Earl said with some surprise. “How is the patient?”
Roger hesitated. “Coming along nicely, I think. But frankly, I want to take a few more X-rays. Something feels odd.”
“Serious?”
Biting his lip, the doctor answered, “Unlikely there’s any problem at all. But if there is, it could be very serious. It would mean I’d missed something first time around and I’m two weeks late treating it.”
“When do you want to take the X-rays.” Richard
asked quietly.
“As soon as possible.”
Richard nodded and buzzed the servants’ quarters. A few minutes later, Charles appeared. “Charles, I have to go over to the clinic and I’m not sure when I will return. If I’m not back by eight, you’ll have to escort the group.”
“Very well, sir.” The face was impassive.
As soon as the servant had left, Sylvia’s voice cut across everyone’s thoughts. “What do you mean Richard? Why do you have to go?”
“Sylvia, it is not your affair!” His voice was curt. “I’ll come in the BMW, Roger. If she’s all right, I can bring her back. If not, and it’s necessary, I can drive her to the hospital.”
The doctor gave a brief nod. Feeling rather helpless, Wendy stared at each of them in turn. At Roger’s signal, she rose and hobbled after him. Behind them, Sylvia’s voice and Richard’s rose in argument. The last thing Wendy heard was Sylvia’s plaintive, “Is she more important than I am? I warn you, darling, if you go with her, I won’t be here when you return!”
The door to the great hall closed on Richard’s reply. But Wendy had little time to brood on the matter, for soon Roger picked her up and began to carry her. “I won’t chance a mishap on the stairs,” he explained. “And not to worry about Richard. He knows very well what he wants to do, and he does it.”
They waited until the BMW appeared. Then Roger put the engine in gear and they left. Once at the clinic, it was the Earl who insisted on carrying Wendy. Roger strode ahead, calling to the nurse to set up the necessary equipment. As they waited for the pictures to be developed, Richard paced. To her own surprise, Wendy was quite calm, ready to accept whatever Dr. Witler told her. In fact, she felt more concerned about Lady Sylvia. After what seemed to Richard to be an interminable length of time, Roger joined them.
“Well?” the Earl snapped.
Roger ran a hand through his hair and smiled slightly. “False alarm.”
Trondelaine Castle Page 8