Knight to the Rescue

by Miranda Lee

  Though perhaps not so crazy, Audrey conceded, if she had never been in love with Russell in the first place. Perhaps she’d merely been attracted to his good looks, flattered by his attention, seduced by his lies. Silly little Audrey, craving love, desperate to believe any assertions of affection. She shuddered as she recalled all his lies whenever he’d coaxed her into bed. Clearly he’d been laughing at her the whole time.

  And rightly so, she decided wretchedly. She was a gullible young idiot. She was still being an idiot, imagining she was in love with another man now, just because he had aroused her with a passionate kiss.

  Audrey shook her head in dismay. Dear me, when was she ever going to grow up and see things as they really were, and not as her romantic heart wanted to see them? Elliot was a handsome, sexy, sophisticated man who had acted gallantly towards her, then stirred her with a kiss at a vulnerable moment. That didn’t mean she was in love with him. Infatuated, perhaps. That was all.

  But if she wasn’t in love with Elliot, why did the thought of never seeing him again produce such wrenching feelings inside her? Such black despair?

  Audrey jumped to her feet, infuriated with herself. She was sick of feeling down, sick of self-pity, sick of romantic confusions and delusions. You’re young and healthy and not that bad looking, she told herself sternly. You’ll find someone to really love you one day, someone you’ll love back, without doubt, without distress. Now stop moaning and groaning and get down to breakfast!

  Her father was already in the sun-room that served as a breakfast-room, devouring his habitual steak and eggs, when she made an appearance. Elsie was standing at his shoulder, refilling his coffee-cup.

  ‘Good morning,’ Audrey said with determined brightness as she pulled out a chair at the circular table. ‘Just coffee and one slice of toast for me, Elsie.’

  ‘Righto, lovie.’ Elsie waddled off. Having been a cook all her life, Elsie had sampled a few too many of her own makings. But she was a sweet old dear, without a mean bone in her body. Audrey was very fond of her.

  Warwick Farnsworth looked up at his daughter with a reproachful frown on his face. ‘You’re not going to become one of those anorexics, are you, Audrey?’

  She glanced across the table at her father and conceded that at fifty he was still a handsome man. Broad-shouldered and fit as a fiddle, he had thick brown hair, elegantly greying at the temples, and sharp blue eyes. For a brief moment, Audrey wished she’d inherited a few of his genes.

  But not his lack of tact.

  He had no idea how to relate to his daughter as a parent. Most of his conversations with her started with an exasperated-sounding question.

  ‘I’m not anorexic, Father. I’m five feet four and weigh eight stone two. That’s exactly what I should be.’

  Audrey had learnt to answer her father with facts. He was a ‘facts’ man.

  ‘Hmph!’ he pronounced and picked up his coffee-cup, turning to flip open the morning paper next to him to the business section.

  Elsie arrived with the toast and coffee, and Audrey settled down to spreading margarine and jam. Once her father had his nose in the newspaper, all conversation ceased. Which meant she was surprised when he suddenly spoke up again.

  ‘You do realise, Audrey, that Lavinia is going to a lot of trouble for your birthday on Friday night?’

  Audrey tried not to have ungrateful thoughts. Shy in any social situation, she had requested no celebration at all, but Lavinia had insisted on a dinner party with some people from work. Audrey had only given in graciously when Russell had liked the idea.

  ‘She’s been a good stepmother to you,’ her father went on. ‘Very good. Even in the beginning, when you were hardly welcoming. She never once lost patience with you, despite your uncooperative, sullen disposition at the time.’

  Sullen?

  Resentment flared within Audrey. Hardly sullen. In pain maybe, from her own injuries from the car accident that had also claimed her mother. Two badly broken legs took a long time to heal. Not to mention her emotional pain of losing a mother she adored. But of course her father wouldn’t understand that. He’d shown how insensitive he was by remarrying within six months of his wife’s death.

  With a clarity that had previously eluded her, Audrey finally accepted the rumours she had heard all her life and had blindly denied to herself. That her father had not loved her mother; that he had married her for the company.

  She glared over at her father, recognising in him a man similar to Russell, a ruthlessly ambitious and mercenary man who had little love to give. He probably didn’t even really love Lavinia. She was merely a decorative hostess, a beautiful and convenient body to have in bed, a possession, much like the paintings and sculpture he’d started collecting recently.

  What annoyed Audrey even more was that, despite finally recognising her father’s failings, she still loved him.

  ‘Lavinia tells me you’ve cancelled your invitation to Russell for the dinner party,’ he rapped out. ‘Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  Her heart began thudding. ‘We split up.’

  ‘Why?’ he insisted on knowing.

  She was about to make some feeble excuse when something—some indefinably rebellious surge—made her say, ‘I met someone else.’

  Her father’s face showed astonishment. ‘You did? Who?’

  Audrey gulped. Now she had done it. ‘You...you don’t know him.’

  ‘Well, what’s his name? Where did you meet him? What does he do?’

  ‘I—er—his name is Elliot Knight. He lives at Avalon Beach and he’s a man of independent means.’ She wisely decided not to answer the question about where she’d met him. She didn’t think her father would appreciate her saying Elliot had picked her up in a coffee-lounge.

  ‘He’s rich, you mean.’

  ‘Yes, I guess so.’

  ‘And he’s still interested in you.’

  Audrey’s dismay was intense. So her father had known Russell was only interested in her money. And yet he had allowed the liaison to continue, knowing this all the time. Her sense of self-worth began to shrivel again. No man had ever been interested in her for herself alone. The only real emotion she’d managed to inspire in a man was pity. It was pity that had made Elliot come to her rescue, take her home, kiss her. Pity...

  She wanted to cry with despair but her father was staring at her and some new strength—born of her recent bitter experience perhaps—kept her chin up, her eyes steady, forced her to say, ‘He’s very interested.’

  ‘Then why don’t you invite him to your party?’

  ‘Invite who?’ Lavinia asked as she swanned in in her favourite black satin négligé. Tall and voluptuous, with long wavy black hair flowing out over her shoulders, she was a striking and sensuous figure.

  ‘Morning, darling.’ She bent to kiss her husband’s forehead before drifting over to pour herself some coffee from the percolator on the sideboard.

  Audrey stared after her with undeniable envy. Oh, to be so elegant, so sure of oneself, so darned sexy!

  ‘Audrey has a new boyfriend,’ her father announced with a mixture of surprise and fatherly pride. ‘She says he’s very interested in her.’

  Audrey winced. Now she was well and truly in the soup.

  Lavinia whirled to stare disbelievingly at her. ‘Really? Anyone we know?’

  ‘I’ve already asked that. She says not. A wealthy young playboy from the sound of things.’

  ‘But how would Audrey meet someone like that?’ Lavinia scoffed. ‘She never mixes in the social set around Sydney. Not that she shouldn’t. She just never bothers with that scene. Are you sure she’s telling the truth about all this? It all seems very odd.’

  Audrey detested it when her father and Lavinia started talking around her. Normally, she either stayed unhappily silent or drifted away. But not this morning. ‘Why on earth would I lie, Lavinia?’ she challenged.

  ‘Why, indeed?’ the woman murmured.
/>
  ‘I’m only too happy to tell you about Elliot. You only have to ask.’

  Lavinia lifted her finely arched dark brows and walked indolently back to sit down with her coffee. ‘Well?’ she prompted. ‘Tell us, then. Where did you meet?’

  Audrey swallowed, her newly discovered courage faltering. ‘I—er—I...’

  The sardonic light in Lavinia’s black eyes forced Audrey to gather every available resource she owned. ‘We met at a party last Saturday night,’ she said, using Elliot’s own white lie to Russell. ‘Not the one just past. The weekend before.’

  ‘But you didn’t go out that night,’ Lavinia pointed out.

  Audrey’s memory did a frantic data-search. Her father and Lavinia had gone out to a club that night. They hadn’t come home till after midnight and certainly wouldn’t have checked her room to see if she were in. Elsie was the only live-in servant and she always went to bed early.

  Despite a pounding heart she managed a passably nonchalant shrug. ‘I wasn’t going to, but after you both went out an old schoolfriend of mine rang out of the blue and asked me to a flat-warming party. I’m certainly glad I went. Elliot’s a fascinating man.’

  Lavinia was not about to let up. ‘If this Elliot’s so interested in you, why did he let you spend the whole of this last weekend moping in your room? Why didn’t he take you out?’

  Audrey’s stomach was beginning to churn. ‘He went skiing. I...I didn’t want to go. I hate skiing.’

  ‘Looks like Audrey’s come up trumps at last,’ her father said, undeniably impressed. ‘Are we to hope for an announcement in the near future?’

  Audrey blushed. ‘Really, Father. We’ve only just met.’

  ‘Fair enough. So when will he be back from skiing, this Elliot of yours?’

  ‘Today,’ she answered with astonishing glibness. There was no doubt lying came easier with practice. ‘Late this afternoon.’

  ‘Then you’ll be able to ring him tonight,’ Lavinia inserted smoothly, ‘and ask him to your party.’

  ‘Oh, but I...but surely...’

  ‘Come now, Audrey!’ Her father’s tone showed exasperation. ‘It’s quite permissable for a girl to ring a boy these days. And after all, it is your coming of age. I’m sure this young man won’t think you’re chasing him, asking him to a twenty-first.’

  Audrey groaned silently. Next thing they’d both stand over her while she actually made the call.

  ‘Of course, if you don’t think this Elliot will come,’ Lavinia drawled.

  Audrey stared at her stepmother. Strange, she’d always thought Lavinia liked her. But it was impossible to ignore the malicious gleam in those black eyes, or the smug sarcasm in her voice. It sparked a fierce determination Audrey hadn’t known was in her.

  ‘He’ll come,’ she bit out. ‘Don’t you worry about that.’

  Lavinia’s smugness wavered and Audrey felt an uncustomary thrill of satisfaction. She’d get Elliot to come if it was the last thing she did. She’d beg. She’d bribe. And if all that failed she’d lie her teeth out.

  It was amazing how ten hours’ delay could undermine one’s resolve. By the time Audrey reached for her bedside phone early that evening her hand was literally shaking. Snatching it back, she sank down on her quilt and stared once again at the open telephone directory on her pillow, at the circled name.

  KNIGHT E H. The only E Knight in the book living in the suburb of Avalon. It had to be him.

  Taking another fortifying breath and trying to steady her hand, she reached for and picked up the phone, punching in the numbers with sharp, staccato movements. The nerve-racking brr-brr started on the other end of the line.

  Would he be home at six on a Monday night? Audrey thought anxiously as the ringing continued. She had reasoned he should be. It was too early to go out to dinner and late enough to have come home if he’d gone out for the day. It was dark at six in July in Sydney, winter well and truly set in. With each successive ring, her agitation increased. One part of her wanted him to answer. The other hoped he’d gone to Switzerland for the rest of the winter.

  On the seventh ring, someone answered.

  Audrey held her breath.

  A male voice repeated the number she had just rung.

  She expelled the held breath in a rush. ‘El...Elliot?’

  There was a short sharp silence that sent Audrey’s tension up and off the scale.

  ‘Audrey? Is that you?’ he questioned with a manner that suggested he was not pleased she had rung.

  This was no less than she had expected. ‘Yes, it’s me,’ she said, and fell painfully silent.

  ‘Well?’ he prodded at last. ‘What can I do for you?’ His tone was cool and she suddenly realised she was about to make a big fool of herself. Yet to fail was unthinkable. She just couldn’t face Lavinia with the news that Elliot wasn’t coming.

  ‘I...I have this problem.’

  ‘Yes?’

  God, he wasn’t making it easy for her, was he?

  More feelings of pre-emptive failure flooded in, totally swamping her. He was going to say no. Why should she humiliate herself by asking in the first place?

  Her heart turned over in wild desolation. If only she were beautiful and sexy. If only Elliot wasn’t rich, and needed her money—like Russell. If only there were some way she could make him genuinely want to come.

  ‘You...you said I could call if I needed help.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I...I do.’

  ‘In what way?’

  Audrey took a deep breath. And the plunge. ‘Remember I mentioned I was turning twenty-one soon? Well, it’s this Friday and Lavinia has organised a special dinner party for me that evening here, at home. I was going to bring Russell, you see, and now I don’t have anyone to be my date and I thought that...that... Well, I hoped you might fill in in Russell’s absence.’

  She held her breath and waited for his answer.

  ‘I thought I made it clear, Audrey,’ he ground out, ‘that I’m not in the market for filling in for Russell, in any capacity.’

  Audrey was glad Elliot couldn’t see the heat zooming into her cheeks. She wished he hadn’t used quite those words. It sent the most amazingly explicit and arousing images to her mind.

  ‘Isn’t there anyone else you can invite?’ His tone was frustrated. ‘Someone your own age?’

  ‘Not really,’ she replied, making a huge effort to get a hold of herself. ‘No one I’d be proud of. And Elliot, I want to be proud of my date, don’t you see? It’s...it’s very important to me.’ Audrey knew this final plea was hitting below the belt. Out of desperation she was deliberating playing on Elliot’s capacity for compassion.

  His sigh was one of weary resignation. ‘Yes, I do see. Unfortunately... Very well, Audrey. Give me your address and tell me what time I’m expected. And perhaps your last name might be a good idea. I never did find that out.’

  Success brought both triumph and a measure of agitation. He was coming. He was actually coming. Shivers of unbidden excitement ran up and down her spine.

  Audrey somehow managed to give him her home address at Newport, her full name of Audrey Henrietta Farnsworth, as well as her phone number—just in case a disaster prevented his coming. But please, lord, no disasters, she prayed!

  ‘Could you be here soon after seven?’ she requested breathlessly. ‘We’re having drinks before dinner. Oh, and wear a dinner-jacket. It’s formal.’

  When he hesitated again, she said worriedly, ‘You do have a dinner-jacket, don’t you?’

  There was a smile in his voice when he answered. ‘Yes, Audrey, I have a dinner-jacket.’

  ‘I thought you might. Considering...’

  ‘Considering what?’

  ‘Considering you’re rich and...well...obviously given to socialising.’

  ‘I haven’t been doing much of that lately,’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps I should have. And what are you going to wear, Audrey? Does formal mean a long dress?’

  ‘Long dresses ar
e out at the moment. Calf-length are in. I’m not sure what I’ll wear yet. I was going to go shopping with Lavinia on Thursday after work. I’ll probably end up buying something glitzy. Lavinia says glitz is definitely in.’ Audrey stopped to draw breath. She knew she was babbling, but nerves affected her that way sometimes.

  ‘Has it ever occurred to you that what’s in might not suit you?’ came his drawled remark. ‘Or that Lavinia might choose something that suits her, not you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she confessed. ‘That has ocurred to me, actually.’

  ‘Well, why not buy something all by yourself, something you like?’

  This idea still flustered her, because she truly had no confidence where her own taste was concerned. ‘I’d like to,’ she said unhappily. ‘The trouble is I...I’m never sure what to buy. The sales ladies tell you everything looks nice and in the end I feel totally confused. I bought an evening dress by myself not long ago and Lavinia said it was a disaster. Totally lifeless and dreary on me.’

  ‘What colour was it?’

  ‘Plain cream, in a sort of silk material.’

  ‘And the style?’

  ‘Nothing spectacular. Long tight sleeves, fitted bodice, boat neck, lowish back. The skirt flares out.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’

  ‘Y...yes, but—’

  ‘Let me make a suggestion,’ he cut in forcibly. ‘Wear it! Cream sounds a perfect colour for you. Put your hair up and wear plain gold earrings. No other jewellery, not even a watch. Neutral shades around your eyes. Plenty of blusher. Bronze lipstick and nail polish. Got that?’

  ‘Well, yes...but...but...what are you,’ she asked with a nervous laugh, ‘an expert on women’s fashions?’

  ‘No. An expert on women.’

  Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t doubt him for a moment.