Mentally, Laurel chuckled to herself. Barbie might be too inexperienced to see through Paul Brenton’s facile charm, but that also meant that she was too inexperienced to detect the careful trap into which she was now being led, and would doubtless not have a suspicion of it until it closed irrevocably round her. Manoel was beginning to exhibit signs of the Latin’s sureness of touch when it came to matters romantic, and winning Barbie in particular.
CHAPTER EIGHT
True to her word, Anthea apparently had no difficulty in finding people interested in the dance exhibition. They were all young, and one of them was a lovely Portuguese girl from the older part of the town, with fluid grace already in every movement of her slender body. After seeing her, as an afterthought and in case an unvaried programme of one particular style of dancing might prove monotonous, Laurel decided to enlarge it into an actual concert. Once again Anthea was sent off to use her powers of persuasion on likely performers. Secretly Laurel was a little surprised at the enthusiastic support received for both sections of the programme, but only time would tell whether it was due to genuine interest, intrigued curiosity because such a thing was novel on Ladrana—or pure and simple the unfailing Barrington methods of persuasion. Whatever it was, she found herself eventually in the unexpected position of being able to pick and choose her performers.
The only thing that did worry her a little was that all rehearsals took place at Castelanto. It had been against her will from the beginning, but, as Anthea had pointed out with irrefutable truth, the cottage was too small and the island would quite naturally expect Castelanto to be used, since the producer was supposed to be engaged to the owner. It need not have worried Laurel, though. Stephen hardly ever showed up. Sometimes she thought he even appeared to be avoiding her. She would turn suddenly, with a feeling of being watched, and find him standing in the doorway of the ballroom, but he would always incline his dark head with a faintly mocking smile and disappear with some remark about not interrupting her when she was busy. Everyone else accepted such an explanation, no doubt under the impression that they would meet after rehearsals were over, but it was always Anthea who drove her back to the cottage and Stephen never once came there.
She was hurt but quite resigned. After all, she had not expected it to be any different, once he had made up his mind. Quite obviously he had decided that he would risk allowing Roberta to come into his life permanently and now all he desired was to be freed from this fiasco of an engagement that prevented him entering into one nearer his heart. Laurel was beginning to feel the same way herself. The atmosphere was quite insupportable and the sooner it ended the better, whatever the aftermath was for her.
She was uncertain how to bring up the subject, and in the end it was Roberta who gave her the opportunity. The red-haired woman was far from being a fool. There was a quick and agile mind behind the cold green eyes that could turn soft only when she chose, and a completely selfish and self-seeking heart in the beautiful body. Roberta Fransom had come to Ladrana purely and simply to get back the man she had once possessed so completely. She did not intend to let anyone or anything stand in her way—certainly not an insignificant little schoolteacher.
She had always been suspicious of the amazing engagement that nobody had seemed to expect. It had happened too suddenly—and she had not forgotten the aghast surprise on Laurel’s face at Anthea’s announcement—too much surprise for it to have been caused merely by dismay at a premature announcement. She was convinced now that Laurel had not known of the engagement until it was made public. She had suspected it at the time, and subsequent careful observation had made her sure she was right. It all added up to just the answer she wanted, and having obtained her answer she was not slow to act upon it.
When Laurel received her invitation to Barbie’s nineteenth birthday party she was by no means certain that she ought to accept. She wanted to go to the party herself, but quite obviously Stephen would be there, too, and they would have to continue the deception that was just about getting beyond her. If she had not already embarked upon arrangements for the concert she had the cowardly feeling that she would have dropped everything, returned his ring to Stephen by registered package, and turned her back on the island all in the same day. As it was, however, too much work had already been put into the concert for it to be possible for her to just drop it, and at least it was only a week away now. Immediately it was over the engagement could be broken officially, and she would make arrangements to return to England. Poor Ned would no doubt be upset, but that couldn’t be helped. She had to get away from Ladrana.
Her decision reached, she felt better, and when Stephen and Anthea came over to fetch them in the evening she was able quite calmly to respond to his greeting.
All the same, she was affected by the strong sensation that something was going to happen. She was keyed up and over-sensitive and a little fey tonight. Something was going to happen.
When they arrived at Mrs. Bertram-Smythe’s large rambling villa quite a few cars in the drive proclaimed that they were by no means the first to arrive, and Laurel was not surprised to see that Roberta was among the guests, as well as everybody else from Firebird.
Barbie, a youthful, enchanting picture in white, was apparently resigned to being the centre of proceedings for the evening and gave only a rueful little grimace when Laurel came up to her. The usually unruly mop of curls was tidy and even decorated with a small spray of white flowers.
‘Behold me on my best behaviour,’ she said with a somewhat wry chuckle.
‘Whereas you would far rather be out climbing a tree,’ Manoel put in from behind her.
‘I suppose so.’ She was strangely reluctant to turn to face him. ‘I must be getting senile,’ she added with a puzzled shake of her head. ‘What with Laurel managing to rope me into her Greek dancing after all and now submitting to being wrapped up in this stuff like an iced cake,’ she finished inelegantly, with a rather disdainful flick of her fingers against the crisp white material of her dress.
‘Don’t try to deceive us,’ Laurel countered with a laugh. ‘You’re beginning to enjoy it.’
‘Guess I must be,’ Barbie admitted ruefully, ‘or I would have been out the back entrance long before this.’
Somebody appeared at her side and Laurel noticed that the young girl stiffened slightly. Paul Brenton held out his hand to her with his deliberately charming smile.
‘May I have a dance with the birthday girl?’
Barbie hesitated, then she nodded mutely, while Manoel muttered something terse and sharp under his breath. Laurel watched them dancing together, the young girl and the experienced, slightly dissipated man, then she touched Manoel’s arm lightly.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said with quiet understanding. ‘It will all come right in the end.’
Manoel shrugged. ‘I suppose so—but I grow impatient.’ He smiled suddenly, bending his dark head towards her. ‘Will you dance with me, pequena?’
‘Sorry to break in on this little téte-a-téte ,’ Stephen’s drawling voice said from behind them, ‘but I think it’s customary to have the first dance with one’s fiancée.’
‘But of course. Your pardon, my friend.’ Manoel bowed with his usual courtesy and turned away to speak to somebody else, as Stephen put his arm around the taut figure of his fiancée and drew her on to the floor.
‘That was rude of you, Stephen,’ she said unequivocally.
He shrugged and ignored the remark. ‘So Manoel grows impatient, does he? You’d better tell him he won’t have long to wait now.’
‘I think he knows that,’ she countered—and decided that she had better be well away from the island when Manoel announced his engagement to Barbie, or Stephen was going to start asking a lot of awkward questions which she was going to find hard to parry. Of course he might just guess the truth without the need of asking them, which would be more than she could bear.
They danced in silence after that, a stiff strained silence that made h
er glad when the dance ended and she was able to return to Ned’s cheerful, uncomplicated company.
For neither of them was it a good night. Anthea flirted continuously and outrageously with every man she danced with, and when Ned asked her to dance with him she pretended that she wasn’t free. Ned accepted his rebuff without apparently being very much affected by it, but Laurel knew otherwise, and when long before anyone else took their departure he asked her whether she would like to leave she agreed with relief.
Stephen must have seen them go, but he made no attempt to go after them, or to say good night to Laurel.
When they got back to the cottage Laurel made coffee for the two of them, and they sat looking half wretchedly, half whimsically at one another in the kitchen.
So much for Barbie’s party. Laurel knew that was what they were both thinking.
Preparations for the concert went ahead, and the week that Laurel was counting on speeding past her certainly did not drag. There was so much to be seen to, for which she herself was responsible. The costumes, the music, the performances of the various participants ... It was rehearsals, rehearsals all that week, and she had little time to think of herself and the miserable condition of her affairs.
The concert itself was to be held in the open, which seemed the natural setting for the Greek part of the programme. In a corner of Castelanto’s spacious grounds there was a kind of natural grove in which the trees formed a sylvan background, and on a flat spread of turf before it the dances were to be performed. Rows of chairs facing this natural stage had been set out for the audience, and in place of a classical temple which they could not produce, a fallen tree-trunk and some branches of flowery foliage were their only props.
On the whole, Laurel was very well satisfied with the stage effects, and the finished costumes were very pleasing. It didn’t seem to her that anything could go wrong, although Anthea elected to go on a picnic the morning before the dance, and it was a bit nerve-shattering hoping she would get back in time.
Laurel had had a week to steel herself for the comment that her broken engagement would cause when the news spread round the island, and for her the concert and the end of her engagement to Stephen were synonymous. Stephen had been treating her so cavalierly lately that she hoped she would have a chance to talk to him after the concert, and it was then she planned to hand back the emerald ring. He was quite unlikely to make a fuss—she knew that now—and even if he did it would make no difference.
Her mind was made up ... The farce had to be ended. But between her and the ending of it lay the agonizing couple of hours that were to be devoted to the concert.
They had a sketchy dinner and then Ned drove her over to Castelanto. The sky was beginning to darken and the coloured fairy-lights glowed amongst the trees. More of them had been strung up along the paths that led to the grove, and the whole effect was quite enchanting.
Stephen had gone into Milton to pick up the party from Firebird, and Laurel was also met with the information that Anthea had not yet returned.
She faced Ned with a worried look. ‘I hope nothing has happened to her.’
Ned grimaced. ‘Nothing ever happens to Anthea—not unless she arranges it.’
But another hour passed and there was still no sign of Anthea. Stephen came back from Milton and seemed disposed to be helpful, whether from sympathy because of her worried expression, or because he didn’t want to disappoint his friends she had no means of finding out.
He personally escorted Roberta to the grove and saw her comfortably seated beneath the trees, then he returned to the terrace where Laurel was waiting with Ned and Barbie and the other members of the cast.
‘Haven’t you heard anything from Anthea?’
Laurel shook her head. ‘Not a word ... and she promised she would be here on time.’
‘Any idea where they went?’
‘No.’
‘It’s a bit hard to know what to do, then.’ He frowned, rubbing his chin reflectively, and just at that moment the telephone rang stridently inside the house.
With a quick word of excuse Stephen turned and went into the house, leaving the others waiting anxiously for his return. Laurel could tell immediately from his expression when he rejoined them that it was Anthea who had telephoned. He looked a trifle worried, though, as he explained:
‘Apparently they went to some god-forsaken spot for their picnic, then had trouble with the car when they started to come back. They had to walk until they could find somewhere to telephone from. Anthea is still hanging on, and she’d like a word with you, Laurel.’
Laurel darted into the house and picked up the receiver. ‘Anthea, are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Of course I am, darling,’ came Anthea’s reply, but she hardly sounded as bright as she normally did. ‘I’m so sorry, Laurel, but we can’t possibly be back in time.’
‘But what are we going to do?’ Laurel wailed. ‘We’re on the point of starting.’
‘You can do my numbers,’ Anthea replied. ‘You can do them far better than I could in any case, so no one will be deprived.’
Laurel agreed that of course she could do them ... and then she remembered the final scene. Peter Marshall, who was with Anthea, would also have to be replaced.
‘Use Stephen,’ Anthea advised promptly. ‘I used him for practising. In any case, he doesn’t have to do any dancing, just stand around looking grim and preventing the girl making her escape.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Laurel protested. ‘I couldn’t possibly—’
‘It’s the only way if you want the show to go on,’ Anthea argued. ‘I know it will be awkward under the circumstances, but you’ll have to go through with it. You owe it to the audience.’
Even then, Laurel did not suspect that this was contrived. ‘Where are you?’ she inquired helplessly.
‘Buldaro, a little mission settlement, miles from anywhere. We’re lucky the mission is on the telephone, or I don’t know what we should have done. Unfortunately their own car went into Milton to pick up some supplies and it’s not back yet, so they can’t help us. Stephen had better send out a car to pick us up,’ she added, with all the assurance in the world.
Laurel turned to speak to Stephen over her shoulder. ‘She wants you to send a car to pick them up. Is there any chance at all of getting them back in time?’
‘Where are they?’
‘Buldaro.’
‘Buldaro? What in the name of Hades made them go right out there?’ He nodded. ‘All right, tell her I’ll send a car.’
He turned away as he spoke, to give the necessary orders, and Laurel cut across Anthea’s apologies to inform her that she had better ring off so that they could get the show started. Unavoidable as the accident seemed to be, she still felt that Anthea had let her down.
As she replaced the receiver, she turned to Ned. ‘Just how far is Buldaro?’
‘It took me a little over an hour to get there once, so we can maybe expect Anthea in about two hours.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps one of Stephen’s cars might do it quicker, but the roads are pretty bad for fast night driving.’
‘We’ll just have to start then and hope for the best,’ Barbie said. She slanted a quick glance up at Laurel. ‘At least you know all Anthea’s dances, since you taught them to her, so that’s a help.’
‘We still need Peter Marshall for the ballet,’ Laurel protested, strangely reluctant to mention Anthea’s suggestion that Stephen should be stand-in.
‘Hm, that does complicate matters.’ Ned ran his fingers through his thatch of hair ruefully. ‘I’m afraid I’d be no good, pet.’
‘Wait a moment,’ Barbie said in sudden inspiration. ‘I remember Anthea mentioning once that Stephen had been helping her with rehearsals. Perhaps he would...’
She broke off uncertainly, catching sight of the extreme reluctance of Laurel’s expression, but Stephen’s drawling voice finished the sentence for her.
‘Perhaps Stephen would?’ he suggested. ‘In fa
ct it seems the only way. The other two will never be back in time.’
‘But I haven’t rehearsed it properly,’ Laurel protested.
‘Brace up, my pet.’ The laconic glance slid over her. ‘You can always blame the mistakes on me.’
She tilted her head defiantly. ‘What makes you think there will be any mistakes? I used to know it perfectly.’
‘Well, perhaps I wasn’t referring to that. Your reluctance to dance it with me might have another reason.’ She was somewhat surprised at the last remark, until she realized that the others had already gone, probably sensing something in the air.
She attempted a nonchalant shrug. ‘What other reason could there be?’
‘Well, you’re the best judge of that.’
‘Oh, you’re...’ She broke off with an impatient gesture. We’d better get started.’
‘Yes, perhaps we had—and I suppose I am impossible on occasion, as you were so kindly about to point out—but perhaps one day you’ll guess the reason,’ he added thinly and, gripping her elbow with almost cruel fingers, drew her along in the wake of the others.
After such an inauspicious beginning, the actual concert started off very well. The audience were all seated expectantly in their chairs and the little fairy lights slowly dimmed, allowing the moonlight to flood the grove. It was a full, golden moon, which was another reason why they had chosen this particular night for the concert.
The first item went off very well, with no hitch, the slow graceful movement of the old classical dance seemingly holding the audience spellbound, then the lights went up again to provide some contrast for the pair of young Portuguese dancers. There was the rattle of castanets and swift, tumultuous music after the slow dreamy beat of the previous one, then once again the lights were dimming and moonlight flooded the grove. This time Laurel had to almost push out a semi-hysterical Barbie, who protested that she could not possibly go out there in front of all those people and make a fool of herself, but go she did, a slender graceful little figure that lent a note of mischievous charm to the old movements.
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