Katerina's Secret (24 page)

‘Oh, yes,' she said. He stepped inside. She closed the door. ‘Edward, Celeste told me—'

‘Yes, to lock your door.' He did not want to agitate her. ‘I thought of you while I was in Nice, I thought it was something you ought to do, lock your door. It's not only residents who walk in and out of hotels.'

‘That is very nice, you know, to have you think of me,' said Katerina. ‘I – Edward, it's been such a long morning without you and you're late for lunch.'

Her tray was on a table beside the window. She alone had enjoyed an undisturbed meal. He studied her with new eyes, the incredulity underlying the fascination. He thought about the book, about the Tsar, the last Tsar of all the Russias, and about the Tsar's family, all supposedly executed in 1918. He remembered
a particular photograph. He could not take in all that Katerina appeared to be, all she might be. The magnificent auburn hair, the clear grey eyes, the oval features, her classical beauty and the always natural air of regal elegance. Impossible, impossible. Or could one believe in miracles?

One could when one remembered what had been happening, and when one thought about the high wall Dr Kandor had put around her.

‘Katerina—'

‘Edward, why are you looking at me like that?' she asked. ‘And why are you so drawn and dark?'

‘Because no one will paint me in oils, I suppose,' he said. ‘No, I was just wondering from whom you inherit such marvellous auburn hair.'

Her lashes flickered.

‘From my grandmother, I think,' she said lightly. ‘Edward, is something wrong? You really are looking at me very strangely.'

‘That's because—' He hesitated.

‘Say it, please. If it's something I shall dislike, if it's to do with a fault I have, you must tell me. I do have many imperfections, I know. So please be frank.'

He smiled.

‘I was only going to say you're very beautiful. I think you've always been so, haven't you?'

Katerina's sensitive colour rushed.

‘Edward?' Little vibrations were perceptible.

‘The family you served – the girls were beautiful too? As beautiful as you?' He did not feel they were questions, just expressions of his wonder.

‘They were lovely, yes.' Her lashes veiled her eyes. ‘Edward, is that what you think, that I'm beautiful?'

‘I'm sure you always have been,' he said. ‘But you have enemies, haven't you? We both know that, because of what happened to Dr Kandor. No, I'm not going to ask questions. However, I think you're safer now, for the moment. So much so that after I've completed a couple of hours' work this afternoon, I think you and I could go for a little drive. You must hate being confined to your room all day. Would you like to go out later? You can wear your veil.'

‘Edward, how good you are to me,' she said. She did not ask why he felt she was safer. ‘I've lost my faithful doctor, my guardian, and I'm so grateful that I have you. A drive will be rapture. Yes, really. Thank you.'

‘We'll drive and talk,' he said. ‘You can tell me about Bulgaria – or Russia, if you like.'

‘Russia?' The vibrations were very perceptible.

‘If you want to, Katerina.'

Edward did some work. It was difficult to divorce his mind from the unbelievable, but he managed it to some extent. He wrote in short bursts. His flowing pencil halted at times, and he sat looking unseeingly at his notes for long moments.

The police arrived. He heard them. He heard the voice of Inspector Cartier and the voice of Madame Michel. He heard them go upstairs, to Valery's room. They were there quite a while.

Celeste brought him tea at four thirty in answer to his request.

‘The police have been and gone,' she said. ‘Mama is feeling wretched. All the questions. But what can anyone say? They've taken away all Monsieur Valery's things, all of them.'

‘Celeste, nothing must be said that will make the police ask questions of the countess. You agree, my infant?'

‘With all my heart,' said Celeste. ‘You haven't told her about Monsieur Valery?'

‘No, I haven't,' said Edward. ‘The tragedy of Dr Kandor was quite enough for her, even though she didn't know Valery.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Celeste earnestly. She poured the tea for him. ‘I'm so glad you care so much for her, especially as we've now discovered she has eyes only for you.'

‘Dear heaven,' said Edward, ‘your imagination will carry you off to the moon one day.'

‘Oh, I'm extremely attached to the moon, m'sieur. Do you think everything would be for the best if you and Madame could bring yourselves to make up your minds?'

‘I feel I shouldn't ask,' said Edward, ‘but I must. Make up our minds about what?'

‘About taking care of each other always.'

Edward smiled at her air of innocence.

‘Oh, I'm something of a ruin, my angel, as you well know, and could take very little care of any woman.'

‘Well!' Celeste expressed disgust. ‘Well! Whoever heard such nonsense? Every year you've taken good care of me, and Mama says no one could have been more of a problem than I was as a girl.'

‘You're a woman now?' said Edward.

‘But anyone can see I've grown, anyone.' Celeste regarded her figure with unselfconscious satisfaction. ‘Oh, if you persist in avoiding sweet fate, then a most dreadful one will await you – you will find yourself having to marry me.'

He laughed. Celeste smiled. She liked very much to bring him to laughter.

‘That would hardly frighten any man to death, Celeste.'

‘I must go and see that Madame's tea is to her liking.'

‘Celeste, will you tell her I'll be ready to take her for the drive at five o'clock?'

‘Oh, a drive is arranged? A lovers' excursion? I am enchanted for you. I go – I fly – see, I am gone.'

In the most guileless fashion, Celeste advised Katerina that at five o'clock Edward and his carriage would await her in breathless anticipation.

‘He said that, Celeste? Breathless anticipation?'

‘Perhaps those were not his exact words,' said Celeste, ‘but as you know, madame, he's a man most romantic in his speech and I shouldn't think I'm too far out in my interpretation of his message.'

‘Thank you, Celeste,' said Katerina gravely. ‘But he's better? He looked so drawn a while ago.'

‘Oh, he has the healthiest beam in his eye now,' said Celeste. ‘Madame, I will tell you, he's always better lately than he wishes us to know. Alas, I'm
afraid he puts on an air of frailty in case some importunate lady or other sets her cap at him. He thinks he would make a deplorable husband. There have been ladies here in the past who would willingly have embraced him and taken him to their warm hearts, but no, he has avoided their tender arms—'

‘Oh, Celeste!' Katerina laughed in joy. ‘You're making this up, you delicious girl. You are as incorrigible as— Never mind, you are just incorrigible.'

‘No, no,' protested Celeste. ‘There's Mademoiselle Dupont now, a lady from Paris. Ah, Paris, that dreadful city. You can imagine, madame, how hungry Mademoiselle Dupont is. Oh, I assure you. She's already made up her mind that Edward is the most interesting man here, and therefore she's very set on him.'

‘I'm going to dislike Mademoiselle Dupont,' said Katerina.

‘Oh, a covetous woman, most detestable,' said Celeste. ‘A spider from Paris. She will eat Edward. Think, madame, of Edward slowly disappearing into her web—'

‘Celeste!' Katerina laughed again. ‘Stop this. It's more than I can bear. Tell Edward I'll be ready at five, and that I hope he may be breathless but not entangled.'

‘Yes, madame, immediately.'

‘If not at once,' smiled Katerina.

Heavily veiled, Katerina left the hotel with Edward just after five, and they drove in the most leisurely way. The clouds had gone, the afternoon sun warmed the Riviera, and Edward proceeded through La Roche and then turned right to take the winding and narrow lanes that led to tiny villages away from the coast. He drove into quietness. Katerina breathed deeply. Again she felt an exhilarating sense of freedom and pleasure. Boris Sergeyovich was a grief still, but Edward was beside her, and Edward was close and caring. The scent of the wild flowers and the pines was a fragrance, a delight, and the world was open to her.

Katerina was set to tease him a little in her pleasure.

‘Edward,' she said, ‘I'm told you're being pursued by a charming lady from Paris, a guest at the hotel.'

‘Am I?' He felt he was beyond all reality. He felt himself engulfed by the impossible. The only reality was in her grace and her enchantment. Everything else was so unbelievable that dreams existed in place of reality.

‘You are enjoying the pursuit?' The veil
that covered her face fluttered lightly to her breath.

‘I'm not even aware of it. What lady in her right mind would want to pursue me?'

‘But you are as eligible as any man could be,' said Katerina. ‘I was not myself brought up to pursue a prospect, but the war has brought a social change of dire consequences.'

‘Dire?'

‘Why, yes, Edward,' she murmured, ‘for it's possible Mademoiselle Dupont may catch you.'

‘Hard luck on her if she does,' said Edward, as they motored gently through a village in which wild vines clung to cottage walls. ‘She'll find she's caught only half a prospect. I'm no more than that, and there's an end to it, Katerina.'

‘You are ridiculous,' said Katerina.

Edward frowned.

‘One should be honest,' he said.

‘One should be very honest,' said Katerina, ‘but not absurd. I'm sure Emily thought you were not only absurd but unfair.'

‘No, I don't think so. Shall we talk about Bulgaria?'

‘No,' said Katerina, watching the dusty road and the glint of the sun on the brass of the
headlamps. She was out, she was about, she had escaped her walls. And she was so exhilarated that she was teasing Edward.

‘Then let's talk about what you're going to do,' he said. ‘Have you decided?'

‘I have not,' she said. ‘Edward, you are my friend, the only one I have, apart from Celeste. You must decide.'

‘I?'

‘Yes. I'm a woman of my own times, I'm not a – what is the word they use today?'

‘A flapper?'

‘Yes. In my own times, we were taught gracious and correct ways of behaviour. I can't escape my own pattern. Gentlemen, to me, exist to prevent ladies from drowning. Ladies exist to make their own contributions to life. To expect help from a friend isn't a principle I object to – no, not at all.' She was light of voice, and she was smiling, but she was no longer teasing. ‘To me, it's a pleasure to know that one's troubles can be taken care of by one's dearest friends.'

He brought the Bentley to a stop in the narrow road. On either side lay the terraced slopes carrying the grapevines, the crop long since harvested. He turned to her. She was colourful in a light, pale pink coat worn over
a white dress that was fashionably short. Her long legs shone in white silk stockings, rounded knees peeping. He was acutely aware of her physical presence, the effect of the slender, shapely body on his masculine consciousness. Despite the veil, she was vivid and alive, and heady in her beauty. The impossible again induced the sense of unreality.

‘Katerina, anything I can do, I'll gladly do,' he said.

‘I know,' she said, ‘and that is precious to me.' She put her veil up, and she was there for him to touch and to kiss, if he wanted to, if he only knew. Her past was her own, locked away, but there were all the years of the future. She suddenly felt almost scalded by the realization that she did not have to go to America, that she could make her own decision. But her grey eyes, soft beneath the shade of her brimmed hat, carried the message that she would willingly let the decision be his.

‘You must leave your villa, you must leave La Roche?' he said.

‘Yes, I must at least do that.'

‘And I must ask no questions, Katerina?'

‘Everyone asks questions, except you.'

‘You need a new home, a quiet place?'

‘A very quiet place, Edward.'

‘Then we must think about it, sleep on it, and talk about it tomorrow.'

‘Yes, Edward, very well,' she said, and put out a hand and touched his. It was as much as she could do, because she was a woman of yesterday. It was a light and caressing touch, a momentary one. He smiled, restarted the car, and drove on, making a round tour of their outing.

When they returned to the hotel, most of the guests were gathered in the lounge enjoying aperitifs. Celeste was in the lobby, however, talking to Colonel Brecht. He, fixing his monocle in his eye to peer at Katerina in her veil, gave her a little bow.

‘Good evening,' said Katerina. Edward gave the colonel a smile and ushered her on to her room.

‘You'll take dinner here?' he said.

‘I would rather,' she said. She would have liked to dine with Edward, she would have liked to have met some of the guests, to have moved among them with Edward and proved to herself that she had not become a recluse. ‘If you wish to do some writing this evening, I shall be quite happy. The drive was lovely. Thank you, Edward.'

‘Yes, I'll do some writing and thinking,' he said.

‘There is—' She hesitated, showing the faintest of flushes. ‘Edward, there is more to think about than a suitably quiet place.'

He wondered, as he entered his room, exactly what she meant by that.

Dinner was a quiet meal. Mademoiselle Dupont looked for a moment as if she was about to direct herself towards Edward's table, but changed her mind. She did suggest a game of billiards afterwards. Colonel Brecht and Rosamund were willing, but Edward excused himself. Immediately after the meal, he returned to his room. He knew he must do some work. He was falling behind. He began to write. But there was no release from his awareness of the unbelievable. He wanted her with him, he wanted to look at her, to indulge the fascination she had for him. He knew that if he knocked, if he took the dominoes, she would be warm and receptive. She would sit at her table with him, laughing and competitive. She would look like a young and striking empress. How strange, that air of being young, as if the joys she had known had placed their indelible mark on her, the mark of years happy and idyllic. Only the shadows that sometimes came to her eyes spoke of other things.