They met at Lasserre. The discussion on wines was brief. Eve listened to Maurier’s boring discourse impatiently, and then interrupted. “I’m in love with you, Alfred.”
The count stopped dead in the middle of a sentence. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I’m in love with you.”
He took a sip of wine. “A vintage year.” He patted Eve’s hand and smiled. “All good friends should love one another.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of love, Alfred.”
And the count looked into Eve’s eyes and knew exactly what kind of love she was talking about. It made him decidedly nervous. This girl was twenty-one years old, and he was past middle age, a happily married man. He simply could not understand what got into young girls these days. He felt uneasy sitting across from her, listening to what she was saying, and he felt even uneasier because she was probably the most beautiful, desirable young woman he had ever seen. She was wearing a beige pleated skirt and a soft green sweater that revealed the outline of a full, rich bosom. She was not wearing a brassiere, and he could see the thrust of her nipples. He looked at her innocent young face, and he was at a loss for words. “You—you don’t even know me.”
“I’ve dreamed about you from the time I was a little girl. I imagined a man in shining armor who was tall and handsome and—”
“I’m afraid my armor’s a little rusty. I—”
“Please don’t make fun of me,” Eve begged. “When I saw you at dinner last night, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I haven’t been able to think of anything else. I haven’t slept. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind for a moment.” Which was almost true.
“I—I don’t know what to say to you, Eve. I am a happily married man. I—”
“Oh, I can’t tell you how I envy your wife! She’s the luckiest
woman in the world. I wonder if she realizes that, Alfred.”
“Of course she does. I tell her all the time.” He smiled nervously, and wondered how to change the subject.
“Does she
really
appreciate you? Does she know how sensitive you are? Does she worry about your happiness? I would.”
The count was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “You’re a beautiful young woman,” he said. “And one day you’re going to find your knight in shining,
unrusted
armor, and then—”
“I’ve found him and I want to go to bed with him.”
He looked around, afraid that someone might have overheard. “Eve! Please!”
She leaned forward. “That’s all I ask. The memory will last me for the rest of my life.”
The count said firmly, “This is impossible. You are placing me in a most embarrassing position. Young women should not go around propositioning strangers.”
Slowly, Eve’s eyes filled with tears. “Is
that
what you think of me? That I go around—I’ve known only one man in my life. We were engaged to be married.” She did not bother to brush the tears away. “He was kind and loving and gentle. He was killed in a mountain-climbing accident. I saw it happen. It was awful.”
Count Maurier put his hand over hers. “I am so sorry.”
“You remind me so much of him. When I saw you, it was as though Bill had returned to me. If you would give me just one hour, I would never bother you again. You’d never even have to see me again. Please, Alfred!”
The count looked at Eve for a long time, weighing his decision.
After all, he was French.
They spent the afternoon in a small hotel on Rue Sainte-Anne. In all his experience before his marriage, Count Maurier had never bedded anyone like Eve. She was a hurricane, a nym-phet, a devil. She knew too much. By the end of the afternoon, Count Maurier was completely exhausted.
As they were getting dressed, Eve said, “When will I see you again, darling?”
“I’ll telephone you,” Maurier said.
He did not plan ever to see this woman again. There was something about her that was frightening—almost evil. She was what the Americans so appropriately called
bad news
, and he had no intention of becoming involved further with her.
The matter would have ended there, had they not been seen coming out of the hotel together by Alicia Vanderlake, who had served on a charity committee with Kate Blackwell the previous year. Mrs. Vanderlake was a social climber, and this was a heaven-sent ladder. She had seen newspaper photographs of Count Maurier and his wife, and she had seen photographs of the Blackwell twins. She was not sure which twin this was, but that was not important. Mrs. Vanderlake knew where her duty lay. She looked in her private telephone book and found Kate Blackwell’s number.
The butler answered the telephone. “
Bonjour
.”
“I would like to speak with Mrs. Blackwell, please.”
“May I tell her who is calling?”
“Mrs. Vanderlake. It’s a personal matter.”
A minute later, Kate Blackwell was on the phone. “Who is this?”
“This is Alicia Vanderlake, Mrs. Blackwell. I’m sure you’ll remember me. We served on a committee together last year and—”
“If it’s for a donation, call my—”
“No, no,” Mrs. Vanderlake said hastily. “It’s personal. It’s about your granddaughter.”
Kate Blackwell would invite her over to tea, and they would discuss it, woman to woman. It would be the beginning of a warm friendship.
Kate Blackwell said, “What about her?”
Mrs. Vanderlake had had no intention of discussing the matter over the telephone, but Kate Blackwell’s unfriendly tone left her no choice. “Well, I thought it my duty to tell you that a few
minutes ago I saw her sneaking out of a hotel with Count Alfred Maurier. It was an obvious assignation.”
Kate’s voice was icy. “I find this difficult to believe. Which one of my granddaughters?”
Mrs. Vanderlake gave an uncertain laugh. “I—I don’t know. I can’t tell them apart. But then, no one can, can they? It—”
“Thank you for the information.” And Kate hung up.
She stood there digesting the information she had just heard. Only the evening before they had dined together. Kate had known Alfred Maurier for fifteen years, and what she had just been told was entirely out of character for him, unthinkable. And yet, men were susceptible. If Alexandra had set out to lure Alfred into bed…
Kate picked up the telephone and said to the operator, “I wish to place a call to Switzerland. L’Institut Fernwood at Lausanne.”
When Eve returned home late that afternoon, she was flushed with satisfaction, not because she had enjoyed sex with Count Maurier, but because of her victory over him.
If I can have him so easily
Eve thought,
I can have anyone. I can own the world
. She walked into the library and found Kate there.
“Hello, Gran. Did you have a lovely day?”
Kate stood there studying her lovely young granddaughter. “Not a very good one, I’m afraid. What about you?”
“Oh, I did a little shopping. I didn’t see anything more I really wanted. You bought me everything. You always—”
“Close the door, Eve.”
Something in Kate’s voice sent out a warning signal. Eve closed the large oak door.
“Sit down.”
“Is something wrong, Gran?”
“That’s what you’re going to tell me. I was going to invite Alfred Maurier here, but I decided to spare us all that humiliation.”
Eve’s brain began to spin.
This was impossible! There was no
way anyone could have found out about her and Alfred Maurier
. She had left him only an hour earlier. “I—I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Then let me put it bluntly. You were in bed this afternoon with Count Maurier.”
Tears sprang to Eve’s eyes. “I—I was hoping you’d never find out what he did to me, because he’s your friend.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “It was terrible. He telephoned and invited me to lunch and got me drunk and—”
“Shut up!” Kate’s voice was like a whiplash. Her eyes were filled with loathing. “You’re despicable.”
Kate had spent the most painful hour of her life, coming to a realization of the truth about her granddaughter. She could hear again the voice of the headmistress saying,
Mrs. Blackwell, young women will be young women, and if one of them has a discreet affair, it is none of my business. But Eve was so blatantly promiscuous that for the good of the school…
And Eve had blamed Alexandra.
Kate started to remember the accidents. The fire, when Alexandra almost burned to death. Alexandra’s fall from the cliff. Alexandra being knocked out of the boat Eve was sailing, and almost drowning. Kate could hear Eve’s voice recounting the details of her “rape” by her English teacher.
Mr. Parkinson said he wanted to discuss my English work with me. He asked me to come to his house on a Sunday afternoon. When I got there, he was alone in the house. He said he wanted to show me something in the bedroom. I followed him upstairs. He forced me onto the bed, and he…
Kate remembered the incident at Briarcrest when Eve was accused of selling marijuana and the blame had been put on Alexandra. Eve had not
blamed
Alexandra, she had
defended
her. That was Eve’s technique—to be the villain and play the heroine. Oh, she was clever.
Now Kate studied the beautiful, angel-faced monster in front of her.
I built all my future plans around you. It was you who was going to take control of Kruger-Brent one day. It was you I loved
and cherished
. Kate said, “I want you to leave this house. I never want to see you again.”
Eve had gone very pale.
“You’re a whore. I think I could live with that. But you’re also deceitful and cunning and a psychopathic liar. I cannot live with that.”
It was all happening too fast. Eve said desperately, “Gran, if Alexandra has been telling you lies about me—”
“Alexandra doesn’t know anything about this. I just had a long talk with Mrs. Collins.”
“Is
that
all?” Eve forced a note of relief in her voice. “Mrs. Collins hates me because—”
Kate was filled with a sudden weariness. “It won’t work, Eve. Not anymore. It’s over. I’ve sent for my lawyer. I’m disinheriting you.”
Eve felt her world crumbling around her. “You can’t. How—how will I live?”
“You will be given a small allowance. From now on, you will live your own life. Do anything you please.” Kate’s voice hardened. “But if I ever hear or read one word of scandal about you, if you ever disgrace the Blackwell name in any way, your allowance will stop forever. Is that clear?”
Eve looked into her grandmother’s eyes and knew this time there would be no reprieve. A dozen excuses sprang to her lips, but they died there.
Kate rose to her feet and said in an unsteady voice, “I don’t suppose this will mean anything to you, but this is—this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.”
And Kate turned and walked out of the room, her back stiff and straight.
Kate sat in her darkened bedroom alone, wondering why everything had gone wrong.
If David had not been killed, and Tony could have known his father…
If Tony had not wanted to be an artist…
If Marianne had lived…
If. A two-letter word for futility
.
The future was clay, to be molded day by day, but the past was bedrock, immutable.
Everyone I’ve loved has betrayed me
, Kate thought.
Tony. Marianne. Eve. Sartre said it well: “Hell is other people.”
She wondered when the pain would go away.
If Kate was filled with pain, Eve was filled with fury. All she had done was to enjoy herself in bed for an hour or two, and her grandmother acted as though Eve had committed some unspeakable crime.
The old-fashioned bitch!
No, not old-fashioned:
senile
. That was it. She was senile. Eve would find a good attorney and have the new will laughed out of court. Her father and grandmother were both insane. No one was going to disinherit her. Kruger-Brent was
her
company. How many times had her grandmother told her that one day it would belong to her. And Alexandra! All this time Alexandra had been undermining her, whispering God-knows-what poison into their grandmother’s ears. Alexandra wanted the company for herself. The terrible part was that now she would probably get it. What had happened this afternoon was bad enough, but the thought of Alexandra gaining control was unbearable.
I can’t let that happen
, Eve thought.
I’ll find a way to stop her
. She closed the snaps on her suitcase and went to find her sister.
Alexandra was in the garden reading. She looked up as Eve approached.
“Alex, I’ve decided to go back to New York.”
Alexandra looked at her sister in surprise.
“Now?
Gran’s planning a cruise to the Dalmatian coast next week. You—”
“Who cares about the Dalmatian coast? I’ve been thinking a lot about this. It’s time I had my own apartment.” She smiled. “I’m a big girl now. So I’m going to find the most divine little apartment, and if you’re good, I’ll let you spend the night once in a while.”
That’s just the right note
, Eve thought.
Friendly, but not gushy. Don’t let her know you’re on to her
.
Alexandra was studying her sister with concern. “Does Gran know?”
“I told her this afternoon. She hates the idea, of course, but
she understands. I wanted to get a job, but she insisted on giving me an allowance.”
Alexandra asked, “Would you like me to come with you?”
The goddamned, two-faced bitch!
First she forced her out of the house, and now she was pretending she wanted to go with her.
Well, they’re not going to dispose of little Eve so easily. I’ll show them all
. She would have her own apartment—she would find some fabulous decorator to do it—and she would have complete freedom to come and go as she pleased. She could invite men up to her place and have them spend the night. She would be truly free for the first time in her life. It was an exhilarating thought.
Now she said, “You’re sweet, Alex, but I’d like to be on my own for a while.”
Alexandra looked at her sister and felt a deep sense of loss. It would be the first time they had ever been parted. “We’ll see each other often, won’t we?”
“Of course we will,” Eve promised. “More than you imagine.”