Sir Ralph cleared his throat. “It hasn’t been easy to
keep the news from reaching your aunt. If it weren’t
for her room being at the back of the house, it would
have been impossible. We’ve been besieged here—a
lot of damned newspaper reporters. And the police.
We even had the security people sniffing around until
this latest news came through.”
“It must have been very unpleasant for you both.
I’m truly sorry.”
I watched Caterina as she drew the tea cart toward
her and began to pour milk into the dainty china cups.
Afternoon tea before the fire—it seemed to symbolize
the lives of these two. A retired gentleman and his
wife. Tranquility and comfort in gracious surroundings,
the well-deserved reward for a lifetime’s work. Some small recompense, perhaps, for the affliction of blind
ness.
Until two days before the Warrenders had been able
to count on this quiet, peaceful existence. But not any
longer.
“If you don’t mind,” I said quickly, rising to my feet,
“I think I’d better not stay for tea after all. I really
must go up and see Madeleine. I would have done so before, only I wanted a word with you first.”
Caterina’s brow, usually so smooth beneath the
crown of dark hair, was furrowed in distress.
“What will you say to your poor aunt, Gail? Will
you tell her what has happened?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to decide when I see how
she is.”
At the door I paused and glanced back at them. I
couldn’t shake off a curious sense of shame, as if I
were the one to blame for this catastrophe.
It was up to me, somehow or other, to try and put
things right. My decision was made in a flash, even as
the thought entered my head.
“I’ll go to Majorca,” I announced. “I’m going to see Alexis and talk to him. Tomorrow.”
Caterina’s eyes widened in astonishment. Sir Ralph
frowned.
“I warn you, Gail,” he said, “if you go rushing off
after Alexis, you’ll only be hurt. Badly hurt.”
Caterina hastily tried to soften her husband’s words. “I beg you to consider, Gail, my dear one. It cannot be
wise to act so impetuously.”
“What else can I do?” I cried miserably. “I’ve got
to do something. I can’t just accept a thing like this as
if it isn’t important.”
“Perhaps if you wait a little,” she said without con
viction, “Alexis will write and explain.”
But I wasn’t prepared to wait on the off chance of
receiving a letter from Alexis. A letter was so one
-sided. It couldn’t be argued with, reasoned with. I was determined to see my uncle in the flesh, to talk to him face to face and demand an explanation.
* * * *
Rudi heard me returning to the west wing and came
out of the Oak Room to meet me.
“What did Sir Ralph have to say, Gail?”
“He believes it. And he blames Alexis—just as you
do.”
“Be fair. I didn’t say I
blamed
him, but it’s no use
shutting our eyes to what has happened.”
“You don’t
know
what’s happened. I’d have thought
that you of all people, Rudi, would stand up for Alexis, considering what he’s done for you.” My feeling of hurt
bewilderment made me speak bitterly, unfairly. “Now
I’m going up to see Madeleine.”
My aunt’s bedroom was a large apartment with a
view over the terrace and tangled grounds to the ridge
of heathland that in the mist was no more than a
vague purplish haze. The lake was very calm, lying like a sheet of pale gray silk, fringed with the tall feathery
spires of the fir trees.
Madeleine was seated by the window, an easel
propped up before her, using the last of the fading light
to catch the scene in one of her delicate watercolor
paintings. I was relieved to see she was using water-color today. When she painted in oils, her mood was
very different. Angry and turbulent, the expression of a
tortured mind. The results were often grotesque.
She heard the door click as I closed it and looked
up. Rising swiftly to her feet, she held out her arms to
me.
“Gail, darling. I didn’t know you had arrived. Come
and give me a kiss.”
I went to her quickly and hugged her, putting my
arms around her small, thin shoulders. For the moment
I felt too choked with emotion to speak.
“It was a lovely surprise,” she said happily, “when
they told me you were coming home for a little holiday.
Alexis has had to go away, did you know? But now,
Gail, I shall have you for company.”
I said huskily, “I’m afraid I have to go off again my
self tomorrow, just for a little while. It shouldn’t be for
very long.”
She made a little moue of disappointment with her
lips. “Did Rudi tell you I have a new nurse? Just tem
porarily, you know. But I don’t like her very much.
She’s not nearly as nice as Belle.”
“I’m sorry about that, darling,” I murmured.
She sighed. “Oh, well, it can’t be helped. I expect
they’ll both be home soon—Alexis and Belle.”
It shook me for a moment, hearing her link their
names together. Had she some glimmering of what had
happened, in spite of all that had been done to keep it
from her? But looking searchingly into Madeleine’s
face, I felt sure that she knew nothing of the truth.
The truth. I
was thinking just like the others, who
were all so quick to condemn Alexis. In swift penance,
I kissed my aunt’s cheek a second time. “It’s wonder
ful to see you, darling. You’re looking so much better
than when I went away.”
My mother had often spoken of her younger sister
as being very beautiful, and a pale ghost of this loveli
ness still lingered behind the marks of her ill-treatment
at the hands of Novotny’s secret police. The large
golden eyes were sunk deep, and above her cheek
bones the ivory skin was stretched like translucent
parchment. Strangers tended to look away quickly,
disturbed by the evidence of so much suffering. It was only those who knew her well and loved her who could be entirely natural in her presence. To me, Madeleine’s face had a special quality. Despite all she had endured,
there was still something that reminded me of my
mother.
And now poor Madeleine was about to face even
more suffering, worse than anything she had so far had
to bear. How could I bring myself to break the news of
Alexis’s disappearance? How could I tell her that the
husband she adored had apparently deserted her for
another woman? Such a cruel, casually ruthless action
was impossible to believe, and I didn’t believe it. Not
of Alexis.
While there was the slightest hope, I decided, the
slimmest chance of an explanation that would clear
everything up, it would be kindest to let Madeleine re
main unknowing. I was going to see my uncle myself,
and not until afterward would I tell Madeleine what
ever it was she had to be told.
I stayed with her for half an hour, trying hard to
make chatty conversation. I told Madeleine about New
York, and she was interested because she had never
visited America. Eventually, the temporary nurse ap
peared and announced in brisk professional tones that
my aunt must rest.
“Mrs. Karel mustn’t have too much excitement all at
once,” she said meaningfully.
Freda Aiken hadn’t a trace of Belle’s charm. She
was a plain, dumpy woman in her mid-thirties, with
frizzed hair and careless make-up. She gave me a look
that made it clear she knew exactly what was going on and was relishing the spicy situation.
I stood up and smiled at Madeleine. “Yes, I mustn’t
overtire you, darling. I’ll see you again later on.”
As I was going downstairs I saw light spilling from
the open door of the Winter Parlor and heard Rudi
talking to someone. Then the other person spoke, and
with a stab of alarm I recognized the voice.
Brett Warrender.
I stood rigidly still, both hands clutching the banister rail for support. I wasn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t
expected to come face to face with Brett without any
warning. I’d thought he was in London, a safe distance
away.
It was ten months since I’d last seen him, ten months
since that evening in April when my jealousy had at
last reached the snapping point. And Brett had faced
me in a
blaze
of anger, denying nothing.
Of course I’d known that in coming to England, to
Deer’s Leap, the chances were that we should meet.
Only I hadn’t realized it would be like this. I hadn’t
imagined that just to hear Brett’s voice would pitch
me into such a turmoil of emotion.
I took several slow, deep breaths to steady myself.
Then, after a moment, my legs still hesitant, I contin
ued down the stairs and entered the room.
Brett’s dark eyes met mine, and for a brief instant there was an acknowledgment of everything we had
once meant to each other. But then the flash of intima
cy was gone, and I was merely someone he happened
to know rather well.
“Hello, Gail. They told me you were back. This is
a hell of a mess, isn’t it? I suppose you’ve been telling Madeleine. How did she take it?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t told her. I couldn’t.”
“For heaven’s sake. The longer you put it off, the
worse it will be for her. There was some sense in keep
ing the news from Madeleine until you got home. But now that you’re here, the sooner she knows the better.
She’s got to understand the sort of man Alexis has
turned out to be.”
My anguish swiftly changed to anger. I forgot that
Rudi was present and faced Brett furiously, seeing
again his stubborn arrogance, his certainty that only
he could be right.
“How dare you. It’s not fair to judge Alexis without hearing his side.”
“His
side?” Brett’s voice was scathing. “If you have
any idea, Gail, that this will all blow over and you can
save your uncle’s Christ-like image, you’d better forget it. That famous book of his which was all set to shake
the world is a dead duck before it’s even published.
And so’s the film I’ve been working on these past
three months—a real PR job on Alexis Karel, saint and savior. It’ll be so much useless junk now. The
man’s a laughingstock.”
“Stop it,” I shouted. “I won’t listen to you.”
“That was always your trouble, Gail. You never
would
listen. You just jump to conclusions.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing about Alexis?”
“No, I’m merely facing facts. I suppose you realize
that he’s hopped it with the loot from his book. I gather
he was paid a gigantic fee for the newspaper rights.”
“Yes, and you know why, too. Alexis has always
needed every penny he could scrape together to help
his refugees. These people arrive here destitute and need to be put on their feet again and found some
where to live. It all takes a great deal of money.” I
checked myself, knowing I was being tactless in front
of Rudi.
“It’s all right, Gail,” he said quietly. “I haven’t for
gotten how much I owe Alexis Karel. And I never
will—whatever is being said about him now, what
ever may come to light. His life hasn’t been easy, always having to worry more about others than about
himself—and Belle is a very attractive woman.” He
glanced at Brett, then back at me, a desperate appeal
for understanding in his eyes. “Is Alexis so much to
blame for snatching at happiness?”
“There’s just the little matter of deserting a wife who
went through hell on his account,” Brett pointed out
viciously. “That’s hardly going to endear him to the
people who regarded him as a national hero. Not just
Czechs but millions of people all over the world. Peo
ple like my father.”
“I feel dreadful about Sir Ralph,” I admitted miser
ably. “I know how all this has upset him. But you’re
wrong, all of you, in what you think about Alexis. I
don’t believe he’s gone off with Belle Forsyth—at least,
not in the way you mean. There’s some mistake, there must be—and I’m going to find out the truth.”