‘I’m Edward Somers, staying at the Corniche. I’m a friend of the countess.’
‘You’re a friend, m’sieur,’ said the inspector, ‘but not here when it happened?’
‘No, I was at the hotel, having lunch,’ said Edward.
‘Do you know who was here?’ asked the inspector.
‘The countess and her servant, Anna, and both were in the house.’
‘Yes?’ said the inspector, which was to tell Edward he could not possibly have known who was in the house and who was not.
‘Yes,’ said Edward, which was to tell the inspector not to start off on the wrong foot.
‘Is he also a servant?’ asked the inspector, indicating Sandro, who was calming the bristling Alsatian.
‘Yes. That’s Sandro. He and Anna are the only servants. Sandro, by the way, was in the village at the time.’
‘Thank you, m’sieur,’ said the inspector, showing a slight smile of gratitude for this piece of unrequested information. ‘Pardon me.’ He descended to the lawn to engage Sandro in a lengthy dialogue, the gendarme accompanying him.
Katerina reappeared. She had changed into a lemon-coloured costume with a matching little hat and veil. The veil was up. Edward could think of no woman more exquisite. Her eyes were dark with mourning for Boris Sergeyovich, but she held herself upright. Her glance at the little group on the lawn was one of sad regret that there had to be more formalities. She turned to Edward.
‘I thought perhaps I should have dressed in black for my doctor,’ she said, ‘but felt he wouldn’t want that. Thank you for waiting. I have packed a case and shall be ready to go with you as soon as the police have left.’
‘I’m very pleased,’ said Edward.
The inspector and the gendarme came up to the terrace.
‘Countess Varna?’ enquired the inspector of Katerina.
‘Yes, I am Countess Varna.’
‘I am Inspector Cartier from Nice.’ The inspector made a little bow. ‘Allow me to express my sympathy for this tragedy. I regret the formalities necessary, but I hope I shall cause you no distress. First, I’d like to see Dr Kandor.’
Katerina closed her eyes for a moment.
‘Anna will take you up to his room,’ she said.
The inspector and the gendarme were taken up. Katerina remained on the terrace with Edward.
‘It’s unavoidable, I’m afraid,’ said Edward gently.
‘I know, and there’ll be an inquest, of course, which I shall have to attend.’
‘I’ll go with you.’
‘Will there be many people?’ she asked.
‘A few, I imagine.’ He smiled faintly. ‘You can wear black then, with a veil.’
‘Edward,’ she said emotionally, ‘I’m so grateful – I’m in need of someone close, someone very kind and understanding – I should feel very alone without you.’
‘I feel very inadequate,’ said Edward.
‘No, you are my tower of strength, very dear friend,’ she said, ‘and I’m so glad you’re here.’
He wanted to take her into his arms. Instead he said, ‘Celeste will be very happy to have you at the hotel. She’ll give you love and care.’
‘Love is precious, isn’t it?’ said Katerina. ‘I—’ She was interrupted by the reappearance of the inspector and gendarme.
‘Thank you, Countess,’ said the inspector. ‘I’m now able to advise you that the body can be placed in the care of the undertakers. I regret very much so terrible an accident. He was your own doctor?’
‘Yes. For many years.’
‘I’d like to see the place he fell from. Would you be so kind as to show me?’
‘I can’t show you the exact spot,’ said Katerina, ‘only the cliff top.’
‘Of course.’ Inspector Cartier’s sympathy was sincere. Edward was aware of the effect Katerina could have on people. She walked down the terrace steps. She turned and looked up.
‘Please come, Edward.’
He walked beside her over the lawn, the policemen following. They went through the gate and to the bench seat. Beyond the seat was a level area of hard ground, the cliff top. The stepped descent lay on the left.
‘Yes,’ said the inspector, standing close to the edge and viewing the rocky fall to the beach, ‘I see. A formidable and cruel drop.’ He examined the hard ground. It bore no foot-marks. ‘A man might become giddy and fall, or he might jump.’
‘Jump?’ said Edward.
‘Do you know, Countess, if Dr Kandor was in good health?’
‘I’ve never known a healthier man,’ said Katerina in a suppressed voice.
‘Nor I,’ said Edward.
‘But all the same, he fell,’ murmured Inspector Cartier. ‘Or jumped. We must consider that, Countess. Did he have any unusual worries?’
He had many worries, but Katerina did not say so. They were not, in any case, the kind of worries to make him jump to his death.
‘He did not inform me of any,’ she said. Edward, close to her, felt her trembling.
‘There was a lady, I believe, who saw him fall,’ said the inspector.
‘Yes,’ said Edward, ‘Mademoiselle Dupont, also staying at the Corniche. And there was a boy on the beach, whom Mademoiselle Dupont sent to the village for help.’
‘Thank you, m’sieur,’ said the inspector. ‘I’d like to talk to the lady. I’m sorry, Countess, about all the formalities, but it’s necessary in such cases to try to establish what facts we can.’
‘I understand,’ said Katerina quietly.
‘An accident or suicide?’ said Edward, who was sure it was neither.
‘Exactly, m’sieur,’ said the inspector. ‘It’s an unhappy thing for friends or relatives to be faced with the possibility that suicide was committed, for they naturally think they have in some way failed the dead. It’s a consideration, however, we can’t set aside. Countess, it’s over, our conduct of formalities with you. Thank you for your patience with us. I must go to the hotel now and find Mademoiselle Dupont.’
‘Inspector,’ said Edward on an impulse, ‘would you be so kind as to take the countess with you? She’s transferring to the hotel for a few days.’
‘With pleasure,’ smiled the inspector, ‘with great pleasure.’
Katerina said, ‘Edward, you—’
‘Please go with them, and get Sandro to load your case in,’ said Edward. ‘I’ll follow in a few minutes.’
In the closed police car she would not be seen. She could transfer to the hotel in an invisible way. If there were eyes around, looking for her, they would not spot her in the police car. They would not even look for her in that. And for him to follow on, walking, that was advisable too. It would look as if he had just left her, as if she was still in residence at the villa.
He spoke to Sandro. Sandro’s eyes glittered and he promised to keep a close watch. He would sleep in the garden, he said, not far from the dog.
Chapter Fourteen
The inspector was asking questions of Mademoiselle Dupont in Madame Michel’s private sitting room. Celeste was seeing to the establishment of Katerina in a ground-floor room next to Edward’s, an arrangement which the French girl thought entirely sympathetic and suitable. Edward, having arrived after a slow walk, was talking to Madame Michel in the lounge, which they had to themselves. He was emphasizing the need to take great care of the countess.
‘But of course,’ said Madame Michel, ‘her bereavement and her weak heart will command the best care we can give her.’
‘No visitors, I think,’ said Edward, and the proprietress looked at him with a slight lift of her brows. ‘Or if anyone does call to see her, I’d be grateful if you’d first refer to me. Failing that, ask the countess herself whether she wishes to receive the caller. Would you do that, madame?’
‘Very well, m’sieur,’ said Madame Michel.
‘She’ll stay in her room most of the time. You can serve her meals there?’
‘Gladly. I’ve never seen her until today, do you
realize? One can imagine grace in a countess, but I had no idea the Countess of Varna was quite so superb and beautiful, although Celeste has said so a hundred times. She has wonderful eyes, but so haunting.’
Yes, thought Edward, they are.
‘Madame, might I ask a particular favour of you?’ he said. ‘Would you please have the hotel doors locked at night?’
‘Locked?’ said Madame Michel. ‘But that has never been necessary, and if guests are out – why do you ask such a thing?’
‘I do ask it, madame, without explaining it.’
‘You’ve a very special reason for not explaining?’ she said.
Edward smiled.
‘Isn’t it true, madame,’ he said, ‘that in France it’s the reason which is important, not the explanation?’
Madame Michel returned his smile.
‘One likes to think so, without quite believing it is so,’ she said. ‘Very well, I’ll see what I can do about the doors at night, though I shouldn’t want to provoke patrons into deserting us. M’sieur, I feel I must mention it – you’re looking ill.’
Edward, grimacing, said, ‘Well, that’s the devil of it, feeling only half a man every time the lifeboats are launched.’
‘That is quite wrong,’ said Madame Michel reprovingly, ‘and is certainly not the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said.’
‘Oh, I’m guilty at times of feeling sorry for myself,’ said Edward.
‘The cure now is a large cognac,’ said the proprietress on a practical note. She turned at a knock on the door. ‘Enter, please.’
Inspector Cartier came in. He gave Edward a friendly nod and thanked Madame Michel for the use of her sitting room.
Edward said, ‘May I ask if Mademoiselle Dupont was informative?’
‘She was most helpful,’ said the inspector. ‘She’s quite sure that Dr Kandor jumped. She felt he came off the cliff as a man might after suddenly making up his mind to go to his death.’
Edward thought that a man who was violently pushed might just as easily look as if he had jumped.
‘How dreadful,’ said Madame Michel. ‘Oh, the sorrow there is in the world.’
‘Bulgarians, I believe, are emotionally impulsive,’ said Inspector Cartier.
‘You’ve spoken to the countess?’ said Edward.
‘No. I thought it unnecessary to add to her distress at this moment. I must return to Nice.’ And the inspector shook hands and departed.
Mademoiselle Dupont came in, looking sad.
‘Edward, how tragic,’ she said. ‘The poor countess was so stricken when she saw him, lying there on the rocks. She said not a word, not one. She couldn’t. The shock must have been dreadful for her, with her weak heart. She climbed back up the steps so slowly, so unhappily. I wanted to go with her, to comfort her, but she refused. So I stayed until the doctor and the gendarme arrived from the village. There was nothing, of course, the doctor could do, except help the gendarme carry the body up. The countess is a good friend of yours, isn’t she? I’m so sorry, but it will at least be a comfort for her to stay here a while.’
‘Yes, it’s something,’ said Edward. ‘The inspector said you felt that Dr Kandor jumped.’
‘Yes, it was so sudden and quick,’ said the Frenchwoman, ‘such a startling movement. I assumed at first that he fell, but thinking about it made me feel he leapt. The inspector advised me I’ll be called to attend the inquest, so I shall stay until it’s over.’
Edward rather wished only Celeste and her mother knew about the arrival of Katerina, but that had not been possible.
‘It’s been an ordeal for you, mademoiselle,’ he said.
‘It has,’ said Mademoiselle Dupont tiredly, ‘and I shall never be able to forget the sight of that poor man falling. And I’ve had no lunch and am going to get a headache.’
‘Would you like some coffee, mademoiselle, or a headache powder?’ asked Madame Michel. ‘And a salad can be made up—’
‘No,’ said Mademoiselle, ‘what I would like to order is a large cognac.’
Edward gave her a smile of sympathy and made his way to his room. Celeste appeared.
‘The countess?’ he said.
‘Oh, her room is a harvest of comfort to her,’ said Celeste. ‘She’s very quiet, sitting in a chair beside her window.’
‘I’ll let her rest,’ said Edward.
‘Yes, but she will want to see you later, m’sieur, I’m sure.’
He lay on his bed and let the tension drain out of him. His breathing was wheezy, and there was a feeling familiar to him, that of painful, abrasive lungs combined with physical weakness. Wryly, he conceded he was entitled to feel sorry for himself. He needed at this moment to be capable of exceptional endeavours, to create peace and security for Katerina, who spoke such fascinating English but was no more English than Pavlova. And as much as any threatened woman, she was in desperate need of a strong right arm and a haven. That need was obvious, although she would answer no questions and had disclosed nothing.
Through the open shutters of the venetian blind that covered the casement doors, he caught a glimpse of Rosamund and Colonel Brecht in the garden, their continued rapport apparent.
His eyes closed. He had long since discovered that, much as he disliked being inert, the only cure for an attack was rest. His mental activity slowed, his mind blanked and he slept.
‘Edward?’ The voice was soft and warm.
He awoke. Faintly, he was aware of a delicate scent. He turned his head and there she was, sitting on the bedside chair. The light was magnificent, the dipping sun bathing the room with fire. Her hair was aflame, her face lambent with russet.
Edward indulged himself in the extravagance of a quotation.
‘“The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, and his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.” Are you the Queen of the Assyrians?’
Katerina smiled and gently shook her head.
‘I am nobody, only Katerina Pyotrovna. Celeste said you looked unwell. So I came to sit with you. I’ve been here twenty minutes. You’ve been fast asleep. Are you better?’
‘I took a little rest.’ He sat up. ‘I’m fine now.’
‘I’m sorry to have been such a worry to you.’ Her eyes were melting in the fiery light. ‘You are sure you’re better? I feel so guilty, Edward, making such demands on you.’
‘Do friends make demands on each other? Not really. I get little attacks for no apparent reason, but a rest always does the trick.’
‘Edward, would you like some tea?’ Katerina brightened at the idea. ‘Perhaps Madame Michel will serve it to us both. It will be all right to have tea in here with you?’
‘I can’t think of anything nicer,’ said Edward. ‘I’ll go and order it.’
‘No, I will. I’ll find Celeste.’ She swept out in an enthusiastic rush. She returned a minute later. ‘There, Celeste is seeing to it herself. When I asked her she said, “Oh, at once, madame, if not immediately.” She’s irrepressibly sweet, isn’t she? I’ve such a comfortable room, next to yours. Celeste said it was advisable to have you close enough to look after me.’
‘In between my coughing and wheezing?’ smiled Edward.
‘Was it Achilles who was the Greeks’ greatest warrior?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, in a crisis,’ said Katerina, ‘I would rather have you than Achilles. Edward, I’m full of grief. It’s been such an unhappy day. But you’ve helped me bear it better than anyone else could.’ She sat down again. He lay back and relaxed, immersing himself in the atmosphere of magic she created for him. Her lashes flickered, and her eyes travelled uncertainly. She saw two people in the garden. ‘They are guests, those two?’
‘Yes, but you won’t be compelled to meet anyone you don’t wish to. The lady is English, Mrs Rosamund Knight. The gentleman is Colonel Franz Brecht, a German. As a widow whose husband lost his life fighting the Germans, she was very cool towards him at first—’
‘So should I have been,’
said Katerina quite fiercely. ‘The Germans were responsible for sending that ice-cold monster, Lenin, to destroy Russia by revolution.’
‘That was a blow at your heart, Katerina?’
‘Revolution feeds on hatred and cruelty.’ Katerina was stiff, her hands tightly clasped. ‘It doesn’t build, it destroys. Perhaps that German out there was one of those responsible for sending Lenin to Russia.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Edward, watching her profile. ‘But he and Mrs Knight are the most agreeable of friends now. I think they’ll remain friends.’
‘They are your friends too?’ Katerina managed a faint smile.
‘Yes, but not as you are.’
‘I am special?’ she said lightly.
‘Yes,’ he said. He knew her as a woman of secrets and griefs. He knew Dr Kandor had been her mainstay, her sure-minded guide, a man of strength and decision. He slipped from the bed, wanting to dispel the suggestion of being the invalid. He ran his hand through his tousled hair, and Katerina watched him as he took a brush to it.
His body was as slender as her own, and she supposed the illness of poisoned lungs had robbed him of flesh. But he had such fine eyes, such a good, firm mouth. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Celeste knocked and brought in the tray. She smiled, and set the tea things out on the little table. There was a glass in a chased metal container for Katerina, a china cup and saucer for Edward. There was lemon for Katerina and milk for Edward.
‘Shall I pour, madame?’ asked Celeste.
‘Thank you, Celeste,’ said Katerina.
Celeste poured. She did not talk, she did not scatter effusions of lightness or sympathy. It was not the moment for too much talk of any kind. It was a day of tragedy, its only sweetness, perhaps, in that it was drawing Edward and Madame closer together. Celeste was willing to surrender her most cherished guest to her most cherished friend. To no one else.
She left them to their tea and they drank it in an unusual and sensitive silence, Edward because his every emotion was committed to her well-being and words were hard to come by, and Katerina because she could say nothing of what she wanted to unless he spoke first. She was basically an extrovert, but not a woman to discount conventions or modesty. It was impossible for her to tell a man she loved him, unless he declared himself first. And Edward, although not particularly conventional, believed it would be totally unfair to ask any woman to marry a wreck. Katerina did not even think about that herself, except to instinctively regard him as a man whom a woman would take particular care of. She was quite unable to understand why some lady called Emily had allowed him to make a decision unfair to both of them. They could not have been truly in love. To Katerina, love was life’s most precious gift, to be nurtured, cherished and enjoyed, to help forgive and be forgiven. Loved ones departed in body, never in spirit. They remained in one’s mind and heart, irrespective of the human imperfections common to all people.
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