by Anne Mather
Melanie was the one person Domine could relax completely with, and she came after dinner every evening with a fund of amusing anecdotes about the day’s events. Mrs. Mannering and the fiery Signora Marcinello seemed to spend their lives conducting a kind of armed truce from which border flare-ups continually erupted, and James avoided confrontations between them. Melanie herself insisted she missed Domine’s help, and urged her to recover quickly so that she could enjoy the preparations for the Christmas season which would soon be starting. She also kept Domine in touch with Vincent. Although that young man had come to the house, inquiring about Domine, he had not been admitted, and Melanie couldn’t decide on whose instructions his dismissal had been executed. In any event, he persistently sent Domine gifts of fruit and magazines which Melanie brought up to her. Once he sent an enormous bouquet of chrysanthemums, their curly heads burgeoning in a variety of colours.
Later in the day when James made his appearance, he looked with surprise on their perfection and said, rather tautly: ‘Where did these come from?’
‘Melanie brought them up,’ explained Domine cautiously. ‘Vincent sent them for me. Aren’t they magnificent?’
‘Yes, magnificent,’ he echoed, in a rather strange tone, then took himself off rather abruptly, leaving Domine feeling rather distrait. Despite her nervousness with him, she couldn’t deny she enjoyed his visits these days and the opportunities given her for expressing herself.
As her cough improved, so too did Domine’s appearance, the lazy days of good food and little exercise putting flesh on her thin limbs. She had taken to combing her hair out of its braid in the mornings and securing it with a wide Alice band which Melanie gave her, and the style suited her youthful appearance and banished the schoolroom air she had felt her plait engendered. When Dr. Rivers said she could get up for a while, she seated herself at the window in her room, still in her pyjamas, and wrapped in a warm rug from the bed until Melanie lent her a dressing gown of quilted cotton that although looking slightly washed out was nevertheless warmer and more convenient than the rug.
However, one afternoon Lucia Marcinello paid her an unexpected visit, bringing with her a cardboard box which she placed on Domine’s lap.
‘There,’ she said, in her attractive voice. ‘A present! And how are you today?’
Domine didn’t know what to say, but she smiled and said she felt much better before opening the box. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was a pure silk dressing gown in a delicious shade of apricot. Its clear bright colour was a perfect foil for Domine’s chestnut hair and olive skin, and she looked up at the older woman in surprise.
‘Oh, but I couldn’t accept this from you …’ she began, awkwardly. ‘It’s very kind of you, but it’s obviously new, and I couldn’t—’
‘What nonsense is this!’ exclaimed the Signora loudly. ‘You would reject my gift! It is not good enough for you perhaps?’
Domine sighed. ‘Of course that isn’t so. It’s beautiful—beautiful …’ Her voice was a trifle wistful. ‘But—well, I couldn’t take it.’
‘Then I shall be most offended!’ cried Lucia Marcinello, rather angrily. ‘Come, surely you can see, it is not a colour that would suit me. It was an—unwanted gift. Take it. I want you to have it.’
Domine hesitated, and then smiled. ‘Oh, very well, then, thank you. But I really feel sure you shouldn’t have given it to me.’
Lucia Marcinello waved an expressive arm, and seated herself in the chair opposite Domine in the window, looking out with interest. Then she shivered, folding her hands in her lap. ‘These moors, they are so—so …’ She gestured again. ‘The loneliness is a little frightening, is it not? Me, I have been used to cities all my life, big cities like Rome, or Paris, or London.’ She frowned. ‘But this is not so with you, is it? James tells me you have been educated at a convent, is this so?’
Domine nodded. ‘Yes. When my parents were killed my great-uncle sort of—adopted me. He paid for my schooling.’
‘I see. This is James’s father, of course.’ At Domine’s astounded expression, she smiled understandingly. ‘Ah, you thought I did not know of the relationship.’ She shrugged. ‘This kind of situation is not new, nor very original. The extraordinary part is wondering where James got his talent from.’ She rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘Certainly not from the redoubtable Mrs. Mannering!’ She raised both her hands. ‘That woman, she is such a trial to her son!’
‘I think she’s very ambitious for James,’ remarked Domine quietly, not wanting to discuss James’s mother with this woman.
Lucia lifted her shoulders. ‘This is ambition?’ She shook her head. ‘I think not. She is possessive. She expects James to adhere to her rules and makes no concessions. She should be aware by this time that James is not a man to be manipulated by a woman—any woman!’
Domine sighed and changed the subject. ‘How are you settling down here, Signora Marcinello?’ she queried politely.
Lucia shrugged her slim shoulders. In a sleek shift of lemon jersey she looked very cool and very attractive, and Domine wondered curiously what her husband had been like when he was alive. Certainly life with a woman like her would not be dull. There was an enveloping interest in her eyes when she spoke of James Mannering, and Domine thought she was the kind of woman to prefer the company of men to that of women at any time. Her enforced sojourn here at Grey Witches must tax her patience, particularly in the company of someone so infuriatingly arrogant as Geraldine Mannering. However, she said now:
‘The house is an ugly old place, and the heating is antiquated, though adequate, I must admit.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘But when one gets used to the isolation, one can appreciate the solitude—the peace of it all.’ She sighed. ‘Unfortunately, Mrs. Mannering seems bent on turning me out as soon as she is able, and I may not get the chance to settle down, as you put it.’ She shrugged. ‘It is Giulio, of course. His death was a terrible shock, not only to me, but to his bankers!’ She shuddered. ‘Mrs. Mannering is a snob!’ She held up a hand as Domine would have protested: ‘Don’t bother to deny it, my dear, it is obvious, and while I may be socially acceptable in some ways, the scandal, and my lack of capital—er—what is that word?—they blackwash me!’
‘Blackball,’ Domine corrected her with a faint smile.
‘Ah, yes, blackball! Yes, my circumstances are not suitable for Mrs. Mannering.’ She shrugged. ‘But that is unimportant. What plans have you for your future?’
Domine lay back in her chair a little wearily. ‘Very few,’ she confessed reluctantly.
Lucia raised her pencilled eyebrows. ‘Perhaps James will find you a job in television—or the theatre,’ she suggested. ‘It is a very exciting world. I know. I was once a struggling actress myself. Fortunately, Giulio came along and took a fancy to me, and plucked me away from the degradation of it all!’ She chuckled. ‘I am joking, of course. But it can be tough—if you are not tough also.’ She studied Domine appraisingly. ‘You’re a very attractive girl. You have good bone structure. You are not, as they say, pretty, but you are attractive. With make-up and clothes, and a little cultivation of your carriage, you might make a model! Does that appeal to you?’
Domine shook her head, half amused. ‘You can’t be serious!’
‘Oh, but I am. In fact, I think that is what I may do.’ She cupped her chin on one hand thoughtfully. ‘I could open a model agency. Nowadays they are always wanting models for something. All these advertisements, you know. What opportunities!’ She smiled. ‘You could be my very first client.’
Domine continued to shake her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she protested shyly. ‘But thank you for the compliment.’
Lucia shrugged. ‘Maybe not, after all. I have the feeling that your guardian might not approve. Maybe he will have some plans for you. Hmm?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Domine tried to sound casual. Then she leaned forward in her chair, and said: ‘Tell me, Signora, has—has—my guardian discussed me—with you?’
; Lucia Marcinello made a moue with her lips. ‘From time to time,’ she murmured, frowning. ‘Why?’
Domine compressed her lips. It was difficult to know how to phrase it. ‘Did he—I mean—am I—well—’ She sighed uncomfortably, and stopped speaking.
Lucia’s fingers gripped the carved arms of her chair. Smoothing the old wood, she said: ‘You would like to know how James regards you, is that it?’
Domine flushed. ‘Well, I was rather thrust upon him.’
Lucia nodded. ‘Perhaps. Although he could have continued to pay your school fees and left you at the convent until you were eighteen, could he not?’
‘I suppose so.’ Domine saw the logic of that.
‘Then I would think his main objective was to give you a home, a real background, if you like, not just some cold institution, little better than the orphanage you were taken from.’
‘You know about that?’
‘Oh, yes. As I have said, we have discussed your presence here. Let me be honest, Domine, James and I have known one another for several years. Not intimately, you understand, he was a friend of Giulio’s, but to the extent of allowing confidences with one another. I think James felt sorry for you, I think he felt his father had given you a raw deal. After all, Mr. Farriday could have brought you here before this had he not been so absorbed with keeping up appearances. After all, what would you have thought of him if it had been revealed that his housekeeper was a woman he had seduced many years ago, and that James was his natural son?’
Domine pressed her hands to her cheeks. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Exactly. You would have nurtured doubts about him, and about the reasons for his generosity, and Henry Farriday does not seem the kind of man to have wanted that. After all, he had lived an uneasy existence at best for many years. Only with you could he justify himself.’
Domine shivered. ‘I suppose so,’ she murmured.
‘As to your future,’ Lucia shrugged, ‘I have the feeling that James will insist on taking quite an active part in that. With or without his condolence, you have become part of his family and I cannot quite see him dismissing his responsibilities at the end of these six months, can you?’
Domine looked up. ‘Surely that’s for me to decide, too?’ she frowned. ‘Legally, I will be independent of him then.’
‘Legalities! Poof! What are legalities?’ cried Lucia contemptuously. ‘They are for lawyers, not for human beings with human feelings.’ She leaned forward to touch Domine’s hand. ‘Do not be so aggressive where James is concerned. You might have been in quite a spot with another man, a less—shall we say—scrupulous man!’
Domine got up from her chair, unable to discuss her inmost feelings with anyone, and Lucia seemed to understand that their conversation was at an end, for she rose too and said: ‘So! I will go. Perhaps if I offer to help Mrs. Mannering with the household accounts she will consider I am a little less of a nuisance!’ She smiled. ‘Put on your dressing gown, Domine, and comb your hair. Remember always—a woman owes it to herself to be beautiful! And you are so young! That is the best thing of all.’ There was a sadness in her voice before she went out of the room, leaving Domine alone.
After she had gone, Domine studied the silk gown with pleasure. It was beautiful, and it had been kind of Lucia to think of it. Very kind. And in fact she wasn’t so bad after all. If James did intend to marry her, then very likely she would make him happy. Domine buried her face in the softness of the garment. This was not the time to consider James marrying. She was much too weak to contemplate such a disastrous circumstance.
When she recovered from her momentary desolation, she did as Lucia suggested and took off the cotton gown and replaced it with the apricot silk. It felt so rich, so smooth, so expensive. Taking the brush, she swept her hair back in rhythmic strokes and replaced the Alice band. What a difference it made, she thought in astonishment. The silk clung to the curves of her body lovingly, outlining the youthful slenderness of her figure, while the tie belt drew attention to the narrowness of her waist. She remembered what Lucia had said about being beautiful, and smiled. She would never be that, but perhaps she was a little more attractive than before.
Later in the day James came to see her, and although he studied her appearance very thoroughly he said nothing, neither complimenting her nor deriding her. Domine felt a rising sense of frustration at his lack of perception, and when he drew a chair up to hers and produced a scene he was having difficulty with in his new play, she felt like taking the manuscript and scattering it like confetti. But instead, she controlled her disappointment, and listened to him outlining his problems. The play was to be one of a series of six plays being produced by a major television company under a general heading of The Profligates. It was to be a controversial series dealing with profligacy in all its forms, from depravity to the inciting of riots. The play James was working on involved the dissolute, gambler son of hard-working parents, and the effects his conduct had on the lives of the rest of his family. It was a rather sad play, a moving portrayal of ordinary people caught up in a maelstrom of guilt and self-castigation. It was not a comfortable play, and Domine, involved in its inception, began to appreciate the brilliant talent that had made James Mannering’s work so sought after. His dialogue was sharp and decisive; his characters possessed human strength as well as human failings, and his situations were a natural progression of events and not the contrived machinations of a mechanical brain. No one was all bad, just as no one was all good, and because of this the play became real—alive—identifiable.
In spite of her antipathy, Domine became interested as she always did when he talked like this to her, and it wasn’t until later, when they had finished their discussion about the scene, that Domine felt a resurgence of indignation at his lack of sensitivity so far as her gown was concerned. So it was when he glanced at his watch and saw that it was already after nine-thirty and he rose to go that she said, rather petulantly:
‘I can’t understand why you’re still here anyway. I thought you were going to Rome, to deal with Signora Marcinello’s affairs.’
James put the manuscript back inside the folder he had brought it in, and then straightened, regarding her seriously. ‘You are perhaps tired of our discussions?’ he queried quietly.
Domine remained in her chair, refusing to look at him. Smoothing the ovals of her fingernails, shrugging, she said: ‘Talking to me must be poor sport after all your intellectual friends in London.’
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he said, ‘You didn’t answer mine,’ she parried swiftly.
‘You want me to leave, is that it? My presence here is annoying to you?’
Domine sighed. ‘Of course not. It’s your house.’
James bit back an impatient expletive. ‘What is the matter with you this evening?’ he said, controlling his annoyance. ‘I sensed from the moment I came into the room that all was not well with you. Are you feeling unwell, is that it?’
‘I feel fine.’ Domine compressed her lips. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’
James put down his folder and stood, hands on hips regarding her. ‘Then what is it?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Lucia came to see you today, did she not? What has she been saying to you?’
Domine glanced up at him. ‘She was very kind,’ she said expressionlessly. ‘She stayed for quite a while. She brought me a present.’
James’s eyes flickered. ‘I know. That gown.’
Domine got indignantly to her feet. ‘You knew? And yet you still didn’t say anything?’
‘What would you have me say?’ he inquired. ‘Surely you don’t need me to tell you it suits you admirably.’
Domine bent her head. ‘It suits me admirably,’ she echoed, almost inaudibly. ‘How nice!’ There was sarcasm in her tone.
She was unprepared however for the look of anguish that she surprised on his face when she looked up, and a frown darkened her brow. He seemed to be involved in some inner torment of his own, and she wondered whet
her he was imagining Lucia in the gown. Certainly, the Italian woman would look infinitely more alluring than she, Domine, ever could.
‘Don’t be bitter, Domine,’ he said now, as though the words were torn from him. ‘You know as well I do that our relationship is still a very fragile thing. Gradually I hope we are becoming more natural with one another again. But this antagonism, this aggressiveness, can only cause more problems. Surely you can see that?’ He sighed heavily. ‘Don’t you think it weighs heavily on my conscience what I’ve done? Don’t you think I’m trying to make you see me in a different light—as I really am? Not as an animal responding blindly to the needs of the body.’ His voice was harsh.
‘Is that how you see it?’ she demanded, hurt by his cold rejection of any kind of tenderness.
‘What other way is there to see it?’ he asked violently. ‘But torturing myself with guilt gets us nowhere! Only by endeavouring to show you that I am not necessarily uncivilized or cruel can I attempt to redeem myself in my own eyes, let alone yours.’
Domine stared at him tremulously. ‘So your time spent with me is a kind of reparation for your sins, is that it?’ she cried vehemently. ‘Can’t you feel that what happened between us is still there, trembling below the surface of the constraint you’ve placed upon yourself?’
James took a deep breath, and raked a hand through his hair. ‘What are you trying to do to me, Domine?’ he muttered savagely. ‘You’ve no idea of my feelings!’
‘Feelings? Feelings?’ Domine gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You have no feelings. You told me that, remember? Why should I consider your feelings?’
James took a step towards her, and for a heart-shaking moment she thought he intended to strike her. Then he halted, and said: ‘Oh, yes, Domine, I have feelings! But not the flaccid kind of feelings you imagine you feel! Do you think that spending time here with you alone is not a penance in itself? Talking to you, looking at you, almost touching you!’ His voice was hoarse. ‘I’m only flesh and blood, Domine, and as I once said, you have the capacity to disturb my mental processes without any volition on my part!’ His eyes burned into hers. ‘That should please you! After all, it’s what you’ve been wanting to hear, isn’t it? Does it give you a feeling of power? Does it satisfy whatever it is inside you that persistently craves a vicarious thrill?’