“And don’t you look smashing today, Stevie,” he exclaimed, staring across at her and smiling, once they were seated at a corner table. “Positively blooming. Very bonny indeed.”
She laughed and thanked him. “You don’t look so bad either, Derek.”
“I’m feeling pretty terrific.” Leaning closer, her stepfather confided, “I’ve decided to do the play—The Lion in Winter. It’s not going on until next autumn, and we won’t start rehearsals until late spring, so I’ll be well rested and ready to plunge into a new project by then.”
“I’m delighted. I know how easily you get bored. What does my mother think about it?”
“She wants me to do it. She’s been worried that I was overtired and run-down after Becket and the film, but I’m feeling great and she knows it.” Derek paused as the waiter came to the table to take their drink order. “What would you like, Stevie? A Bellini perhaps?” Derek suggested.
“Thanks, that’s fine.”
Once the waiter had disappeared, Derek continued. “If it’s a success in the West End, I think the producers will take it to Broadway eventually.”
“I’m glad it’s opening here, that you’re going to be in London for a while. I think my mother really misses it when she’s away.”
“I agree with you, and speaking of your mother, tell me about the brooch you mentioned on the phone.”
“It’s a lovely old piece and it was designed by Jeanne Boivin, probably in the 1930s, thereabouts anyway. I thought it would suit my mother because it’s stylish without being overpowering. It’s made of clusters of small diamonds set in platinum, and it’s two stems of Queen Anne’s lace, and it is very lacy, rather delicate-looking. Of course, it’s a signed piece and quite valuable. André found it by chance.”
“So you said. Is that the feather pin André gave you for your birthday?” There was an admiring look on Derek’s face as he eyed the lapel of her tulip-red wool suit.
“Yes, and I’ve never stopped wearing it since he gave it to me. It’s the kind of pin that seems to go with everything. Night or day. The Boivin brooch is the same, actually, Derek, in that it can be worn at any time and with almost everything.”
“I’d like to see it. From what you say, I think it’ll make a wonderful Christmas gift for Blair. Actually, I was going to walk back to Jardine’s with you later. After lunch.”
“Great minds think alike. The same thing crossed my mind on my way here to meet you.”
He nodded and asked, “Did you like your birthday present from Miles?”
Stevie glanced at her stepfather alertly. “Oh, so you knew about it, did you?”
Derek grinned. “We did indeed, but Miles swore us to secrecy.”
“It’s a beautiful portrait of Chloe. And apparently he painted it rather quickly. Just dashed it off, he said. He’s a really good painter, isn’t he? I sometimes wonder why he settled for designing stage sets, even though he is brilliant at it.”
“His painting of Chloe is spectacular in my opinion, Stevie, and why he prefers to design sets I will never know either. The main thing, though, is that he’s happy doing what he’s doing. And happy with his life, it seems to me.” Derek peered at her closely. “Have you seen Gideon since you arrived on Friday?”
“Ah, the other side of the coin, so to speak. Yes, we had—” She cut herself off.
The waiter had arrived with their Bellinis.
After toasting each other, Stevie went on. “Chloe and I had lunch with Gideon yesterday. I’m afraid he was morose, down in the dumps. Just as Miles said he was when he last saw him.”
“Did Gideon mention anything? Confide in you? Tell you what’s ailing him?”
“Oh, no, Derek, and with Chloe present I didn’t want to question him. After all, he is twenty-seven. A grown man capable of taking care of himself. And whatever it is that’s troubling him, he’ll snap out of it, I’m sure. The young are very resilient.”
“True,” Derek agreed, and deeming it wise to move on, he changed the subject, said, “I think we’d better look at the menu, order lunch, darling.”
“I know what I’m having…the same thing I always have when I lunch here. A mixed salad, then risotto primavera.”
“And I’m going to have fish and a small portion of pasta. One can’t come to Harry’s Bar without having a bit of pasta, now, can one?” Derek flashed her a smile and then turned his attention to the menu, concentrating on it.
When he finally looked up, Stevie said, “It’s not Gideon I’m worried about, but Bruce.”
“Bruce?” Derek threw her a questioning look, and he was unable to conceal his surprise. “What’s wrong with Bruce?”
“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I spent some time with Gilbert Drexel at the showroom on Saturday; we’d quite a lot of business to go over. And he made a point of telling me that he was very worried about Bruce, and he did stress very. Gilbert thought he seemed frail, not agile anymore, although that could be his gout acting up again. He said Bruce kept going into the showroom, more than ever lately, which has surprised Gilbert, since Bruce had said he wouldn’t be making many appearances.”
“Interesting,” Derek murmured. He wondered if Bruce Jardine harbored any suspicions about Nigel, but he did not say this. He asked, “Did Gilbert tell you anything else, Stevie?”
“Just that Bruce seemed very preoccupied.” Stevie shook her head. “He was rather emphatic about that, mentioned it several times. I asked him if he meant that Bruce was senile, and Gilbert said no, not at all. He actually added that Bruce had all his marbles, and that was his exact expression.”
“Mmmm.” Derek looked thoughtful as he murmured, “He is in his eighties, of course. I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to see him yet, have you?”
“No, but I’m lunching with him tomorrow, as I have for years on Christmas Eve. It’s a tradition with us.”
“Bruce has always seemed so…indestructible; I think that’s the best word,” Derek mused out loud. “It just goes to show, none of us is that. Nor are we immortal, as we’re often prone to think, as much as we’d like to be.”
He sounded so rueful when he said this, Stevie couldn’t help smiling, and she said, “If anybody’s going to be immortal, it’s you, Derek. After all, you’re the one who’s captured on film. You’ll live forever, in a sense.”
Derek smiled back at her but made no comment.
Stevie went on. “When I said I was worried about Bruce, I really wasn’t referring to his health, but rather to his demeanor. I can’t imagine why he continues to trail into Jardine’s; there seems to be no purpose to it.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you when you see him tomorrow.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“I think perhaps we ought to order lunch, don’t you?” Derek said, picked up his Bellini, and took a sip. He couldn’t help wondering about Bruce’s behavior himself. Did that wily old bird know something no one else did?
15
“I KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME TO MIND MY own business, but I’m going to say this anyway.” Miles paused, gave Gideon a hard stare, and added, “So please hear me out.”
Gideon returned his brother’s stare but made no response. Instead, he studied him for a moment. What he saw was a reflection of himself; dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, pleasant, well-defined face. A good-looking chap, Miles was. And very personable. Women went for him. Didn’t he just know it. They shared the same problem. After all, he and Miles were identical twins. As their mother used to say to them, they were like two peas in a pod.
“Come on, Gideon, say something!” Miles exclaimed, leaning across the table. They were at Mark’s Club in Charles Street, where they were having lunch, their first in a long time. It was obvious they were happy to be together.
Gideon permitted a small smile to slide briefly across his mouth, then he said, “I’m waiting for you to tell me what’s bothering you. Spit it out. I won’t bite your head off. Nor will I tell you to mind your own busi
ness.”
“Right! It’s you, Gideon; you’re bothering me. Or, rather, your behavior is, and it has for the past few months. You’re either morose or melancholic. Or worse, depressed and unapproachable. It’s obvious you’re disturbed about something. Ma’s noticed it, Gid, and once she really gets on your case she’s not going to give you a moment’s peace. You know she can be like a dog with a bone when she gets her teeth into something.”
“Thanks for the warning, Miles, but I can handle Ma. It’s true, I have been a bit down for some time now. But I’m coming out of it, I promise.”
“What’s been wrong with you, for God’s sake? I’ve been worried to death.”
“Women. Bloody women. That’s all.”
“What women?”
“Not really women, but woman. Margot Saunders, to be precise. She’s tried to create problems for me since we broke off—since I broke off with her, I should say.”
“Do you mean she’s been pursuing you?”
Gideon was silent for a second, then he explained in a low voice, “Fatal Attraction kind of pestering. You did see that film, didn’t you?”
“Yes. But look here, you don’t have a wife, and—”
“I know,” Gideon cut in. “But she hasn’t stopped harassing me, and she’s been quite—” There was a pause before he finished in a mutter. “Quite pernicious, in a way.”
“Odd word to use, but I know what you mean. Anyway, brother of mine, one must never forget that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
Miles looked at Gideon closely, his eyes narrowing, as he continued. “So, she’s giving you a hard time. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, but thanks for offering. Actually, she’s going to go away like a good girl and not give me any further trouble.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She promised.”
“And you believe her?”
“Oh, yes.” Observing the doubtful look on his brother’s face, Gideon added, “Take my word for it; she won’t create any more problems.”
“I believe you. Mind telling me how you accomplished this feat?” Miles raised a brow, his eyes suddenly quizzical.
“I said I’d tell Jack Bellanger all about it, about her behavior…her following me, harassing me, virtually stalking me. And it put the fear of God into her. I mean, what socially prominent young deb wants to see her name splattered all over the Daily Mail and in such a way? And in the most widely read gossip column?”
“She really believed you’d do it?”
“Oh, yes, she’s met Jack with me, knows we all went to Eton together, and that we’re very close friends. You know Margot’s pretty frightened of the Fleet Street boys, ever since that awful scandal involving her brother. She’s never recovered from the press coverage. She thought it was diabolical, and her mother had a nervous breakdown.”
“Very clever of you, Gid. And when did you accomplish all this?”
“Don’t look so suspicious.” Gideon laughed. “I’ve told you the truth. And I accomplished it about a week ago.”
“Then why did you look so down in the dumps yesterday, when you had lunch with Ma and Chloe?”
“She told you that? Ma, I mean.”
“Yep, she did.”
Gideon sighed, decided not to answer his brother’s question. Instead, he asked, “I wonder when the bangers and mash are coming? I’m famished.”
“So am I, and any minute now, I’m sure. Bruno did say they were very busy today when I called to make the reservation. And you’ve only got to look around to see that the place is jammed. He did us a favor, pulled a table out of thin air for us, actually.”
“I know.” Gideon stared off into space for a split second, thinking of his dilemma. Then, brushing it aside, he attempted to reassure his brother. “Listen, Miles, I’m all right now, really I am. It’s been a bad couple of months, I admit that. But Margot is well and truly disposed of, and I know my life’s going to be easier.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Miles took a swallow of his red wine, and there was a slight hesitation as he murmured, “Mind if I ask you something?”
“No, go ahead.”
“Why did you break off with Margot? I for one thought it was the real thing at last.”
“So did I. In the beginning. And for quite a while. And that’s why I broke it off. Because it wasn’t.”
“I see.” Miles leaned back against the banquette, toyed with the bread roll.
“And what about you and Allison Grainger? You haven’t mentioned her lately.”
“Same as you, old chap. Not the real thing. She’s a lovely girl, and I still see her occasionally, but on a much more casual basis than before. I’m easing my way out of the relationship, in fact.”
“Not to change the subject, Miles, but I was a bit surprised when Ma told me at lunch yesterday that Nigel showed up in New York just after the auction at Sotheby’s.”
“I was too. What do you make of it, Gid?”
Gideon shrugged, stared at his brother.
They exchanged long, pointed looks.
Finally Gideon said, “I don’t know what to make of it. He never told me he was going to New York. But on the other hand, why would he? He’s a bit of a funny bugger these days. Bad tempered, more impatient than ever.” Gideon shook his head and finished, “And very secretive.”
“Ma thinks he’s plotting against her,” Miles volunteered.
“She told me.”
“Were you able to confirm Ma’s suspicions?”
“How could I? I don’t know a damn thing, and I hardly ever see him at Jardine’s. Listen, I’m sure nobody else knows anything. And in any case, Nigel’s always played everything close to the vest. If he is plotting, then only Nigel knows he is.”
“You’re right,” Miles agreed. “I wish I’d had a chance to see him; I might have been able to make a judgment, even found something out just chatting with him, drawing him out. But since I’ve been back in London I haven’t had time to come over to Jardine’s.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll see him on Christmas Day with Tamara and the kids.”
Miles did not hide his surprise. “He usually takes Tamara and the kids to see her parents in Paris for Christmas. Why the change of plans, do you know?”
“Her father has been ill. Very ill. He had a heart attack. Anyway, her parents decided to go to Martinique or St. Barts, somewhere like that, for the Christmas holidays, part of his recuperation, I suppose.”
“So we’re stuck with Nigel.”
“Only too true. But there’s Tamara, our beautiful little Russian.”
“Oh, here’s our sausage and mash,” Miles said.
“About bloody time, too,” Gideon muttered.
Miles had to laugh. “We haven’t been waiting all that long, Gid. You should have ordered something first if you were so hungry, potted shrimps or smoked salmon.”
“Leave me alone,” Gideon grumbled, and made a sour face. Then he winked at his twin. “I’m only kidding; you know how I like to grouse.”
“Only too well.”
They ate in silence for a while, but at one moment Miles glanced at his brother, his face serious. “All joking aside, Gideon, do you really think you’re finished with this Margot business? Has she really gone away? And for good?”
“I’m certain of it. And it’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you. It’s been depressing me for ages. She really did behave in the most impossible way. Made my life miserable.”
“I wish you’d told me; maybe I could have helped.”
“Perhaps I should have.”
“What’s a twin for, if not to stand by your side and do battle with you? I’d expect it of you, you know.”
Gideon smiled. “And I’d be right there for you, count on that.”
Miles studied him for a moment, then said, “You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you smile, Gid, to hear the lightness in your voice again.”
Gideon nodded. “She really was
rather a nuisance, Miles.”
“It’s rotten luck that you had to go through all that.”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore. It’s over.” As these words left his mouth, Gideon prayed that this was true.
Miles said, “What about Chloe? Is she going to be a nuisance to you at the store?”
“Oh, no, not at all. She’s okay, you know, a good kid, and she’s going to come in for only a few hours a day, until she goes back to New York with Ma in January.”
“I’m glad Ma decided to let her hang around Jardine’s. It was a very smart move on our mother’s part, and it might make Chloe change her mind about working there after she graduates.”
“I hope so, for Ma’s sake. She really doesn’t want this at all. In fact, she’s dead set against it.”
“I know, and she’s being a very good sport. Do you realize how lucky we are to have a mother like Stevie Jardine?”
“I most certainly do!” Gideon exclaimed. “There’s no one like Ma. She’s the best there is.”
Miles nodded, and, changing the subject, he said in a quiet voice, “I just want to add this to our previous conversation. Promise you’ll confide in me, let me help you, if ever you’re in trouble in the future.”
Gideon only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wondered if this was the right time to unburden himself further to Miles. Don’t do it, a small voice at the back of his mind warned. It’s too dangerous. And so Gideon remained silent, concentrated on his food. For the next few minutes he was afraid even to look at his brother in case he gave himself away or blurted out what must be left unsaid.
Gideon Jardine sat in the study of his flat in Cadogan Square, his mind awash with troubling thoughts. It had turned seven, and he knew he ought to be dressing for the dinner he had been invited to by close friends; he was already running late. Suddenly his energy had ebbed away, and he felt an odd kind of lassitude settling over him.
Only one table lamp was turned on, and the light in the room was dim, but even this was too bright for him. Rising, he went and turned off the lamp, then lay down on the sofa under the window, stretching out his long legs, easing his back into the cushions.
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