Summer's Awakening (48 page)

She spent much of the flight attempting to convince herself that it was Raoul whom she most wanted to see again. Her mind accepted him as the better man for her, but her heart denied it. It had its own reasons for loving James.

Not long after their return to New York, Raoul told her that Santerre et Cie were giving a party at an hotel to
present the new seasons's designs to selected clients. He suggested she should buy a new dress.

'Something simple which will set off the jewels I should like you to wear.'

'What are the jewels like?'

'You'll find out on the night of the party,' he said, with a mysterious smile, and she guessed he had had one of her own designs made up for the occasion.

Emily was going to be out of town that week; staying with Cordelia Rathbone in Bermuda. In any case the party was not an occasion for teenagers. As a matter of courtesy, Raoul had sent an invitation to James which he had accepted with the proviso that, having meetings in Chicago that day and returning on the evening shuttle, he might be a late arrival.

While Summer was dressing for the party, she wondered which of her designs Raoul had made up for her to wear. She hoped it was the one she thought of as the mermaid's necklace.

More than any other precious stone, she loved the clear, shining, sea-water blue-green of
a
fine large aquamarine. The mermaid's necklace had five in
a
simple but bold gold setting with ear-rings to match. But whichever design he had chosen, her classic black chiffon dress with its narrow straps, low
décolletage,
close-fitting waist and floating skirt was the perfect foil for fine jewels.

For a change she had had her hair put up at the salon where she had it cut when she was in New York. The upswept style made her look more sophisticated, and she took great pains with her make-up, giving her eyes a more dramatic emphasis than usual.

Raoul was punctual in arriving to fetch her. It was the first time she had seen him dressed for a black tie occasion. She wasn't sure that she liked his claret-coloured tie and cummerbund, or the jewelled studs in his dress shirt. Like his cuff-links they were probably Fabergé, but she felt she preferred the low key black onyx studs and black silk tie which James wore with his dinner jacket.

'You look lovely, Summer,' he told her. 'I like the new hairdo.'

'Thank you. Will you have a drink?'

José and Victoria were off duty, and she had let him in herself.

'Not at the moment, thank you. I want to show you my surprise.'

He was carrying a large manila envelope from which he extracted a flat leather case. Having placed this on top of a table, he put his thumb on the catch and then paused for effect, smiling at her. 'I hope you're going to like it.'

'I'm sure I shall. Do let me see.'

He pressed the catch, lifted the lid and revealed the shimmer of diamonds, the ice-gleam of platinum. It wasn't any of her designs. It was the dew-beaded web she had seen on his drawing-board the first time she had been to his apartment.

She had told him then it was beautiful, and it was. But it was a beauty which went with white mink and Cattleya orchids. She admired the craftsmanship of it, but it wasn't for her. It was too fragile, too cold. A necklace fit for a Snow Queen.

'Let me put it on for you.' He lifted it from its black velvet bed.

The lid of the case was lined with black satin stamped in silver
Santerre et Cie.

He lifted it carefully over her head and moved behind her to secure the clasp. 'For your ears I have a pair of diamond studs. They're in my pocket.' He handed her a small box.

She went to a mirror to see how the necklace looked on. Seeing the delicate meshes spread on her golden skin, the diamonds winking and flashing, didn't change her opinion.

'It must be worth a fortune, Raoul.'

'It isn't the sort of thing you'd leave in a dressing-table drawer. It would have to be kept in a bank vault. Don't worry: you're in no danger because you're wearing it. I've made special security arrangements.'

She fastened the studs in her lobes. As she turned her head from side to side, he put his hands lightly on her smooth upper arms and let them slide down to her wrists in a gentle caress. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips to her shoulder.

'You don't know what pleasure it gives me to see my creation on someone worthy of it. I wish you could always wear it. To me it's a sacrilege when a necklace like this is worn by an old, ugly woman.'

She turned to face him, smiling, wanting to be kissed. Raoul started to bend his head but then straightened again.

'No... better not smudge your lipstick,' he said, stepping back. 'We must go. As one of the hosts I have to be there before our guests arrive.'

She knew that he was now the only Santerre on the board of directors, although two other directors were of French origin, although not, like himself, of French birth.

Not surprisingly all the board members' wives, when she met them a short time later, were magnificently jewelled. She saw them appraising her necklace but no one made any reference to it. It seemed to her that although Raoul s colleagues were favourably disposed towards his protégée, their wives' amiability masked varying degrees of hostility.

In the case of one of them, this might be because she had a daughter a year or two younger than Summer for whom, perhaps, she cherished matrimonial ambitions which included the company's debonair president. The undercurrent of coolness emanating from the other two wives could be the antagonism which some women who undervalued their role as home-makers felt towards women with careers. Or it might be that they saw her as a glamorous blonde whose slenderness underlined their own figure problems, little guessing the relentless self-discipline which lay behind her new image.

The Presidential Suite in which the party was being held gave her a curious sense of
déjà vu
although she couldn't recall seeing it illustrated in a magazine.

The room was on two levels, the upper level—where Raoul was going to receive his guests—being separated from the lower by a wide flight of two or three steps flanked by flower-banked balustrades. As well as the waiters who would circulate with the champagne, a butler and two maids had been hired to take charge of the men's coats and show the women to a luxurious bedroom where they could leave their furs.

When everyone had arrived four top models were going to display some of the new season's jewels, after which a buffet supper would be served from the suite's dining room. Extra furniture had been introduced in the very large sitting room so that, at that stage of the party, everyone would be able to sit down.

Sipping her first glass of champagne, she wondered what time James would arrive. Thinking of him made her realise why the Presidential Suite seemed vaguely familiar. Long ago, when he was still her
bête noire,
she had imagined herself, in a setting very like this, giving him the cold shoulder.

As things had turned out she no longer felt bitterly angry with him and indeed, while Raoul was obliged to leave her for his duties as host, would have welcomed the support of James's presence in an assembly of people most of whom knew each other but were strangers to her. Clearly the wives of the other directors did not intend to exert themselves to introduce her, and Giselle and Scott Adams had been prevented from coming by the sudden serious illness of Scott's father.

However, it wasn't long before she was approached by a heavily-built man in his fifties who said pleasantly, 'Raoul has suggested I introduce myself to you, Miss Roberts. My name is Heinrich Brandt. I come from Idar-Oberstein in West Germany which, as you may know, is the centre of the European jewellery trade.'

'How do you do, Herr Brandt. Yes, Raoul has mentioned Idar-Oberstein. Do you come to New York regularly?'

Grateful for Raoul's thoughtfulness in sending him over to her, she spent the next half an hour encouraging the German to talk about himself and his business. He was an interesting man who had travelled all over Africa and South America in search of fine gems. She could have talked to him all evening, but presently their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a hand-bell which caused a lull in the buzz of conversation.

As a hush fell over the room, Raoul moved to the top of the steps, repeated his welcome to everyone and introduced the first model whose famous smile, as she stepped into the pool of radiance beneath a down-lighter, caused a ripple of applause.

As she walked briskly round the room, she was followed by a second model. By the time the first had disappeared, the third was in view. The whole show took a very short time, giving the people present no more than a tantalising glimpse of the beautiful baubles the models were displaying.

When the last model had disappeared, followed by a stronger and more sustained burst of applause, Raoul held up his hand to indicate he had something more to say.

'Ladies and gentlemen, you've just seen a few of the new designs from our workrooms. As many of you know, my grandfather was a designer for the goldsmith to the Imperial Court of Russia, Peter Carl Fabergé. He achieved his reputation by a combination of inspired design and consummate craftsmanship and we are constantly striving to maintain that tradition. Later this year we shall be launching the first collection by a young designer who I believe has a
great future. She's the daughter of a distinguished American artist, the late Thomas Roberts who specialised in
trompe-l'oeil
murals. Some of the most admired houses in the United States are embellished by the delightful fantasies he devised for his patrons. His daughter has inherited his gift for creating beauty... and is herself a very beautiful young woman, as you will see in a moment. Will you join me, please, Summer.' He looked towards where she was standing and held out his hand.

She had had no idea he intended to present her to his guests and was both surprised and dismayed at having no choice but to leave her place beside Herr Brandt and make her way to Raoul's side. Another burst of polite applause accompanied her reluctant advance from the edge of the room to the centre of attention. Instinctively she shrank from being in the limelight and felt angry with Raoul for forcing it on her without warning, the more so when, as she took his still outstretched hand, someone nearby took
a
flash photograph.

Raoul squeezed her fingers, smiling at her.

'The necklace which Summer is wearing is one I designed,' he announced. 'Next time you meet her she'll be wearing the
pi
è
ce de r
é
sistance
from her own collection; and I think when you see it you'll agree that we have discovered a remarkable talent.'

He bowed to her, kissing her hand with the easy gallantry of his French background. There was more applause, and more flashes. She smiled at Raoul and then at the blur of faces. There were a hundred people present, most of them standing in groups in the lower section of the room, all of them staring at her.

It was an experience which convinced her that being in the public eye was not a sensation she enjoyed. It might be meat and drink to some people, but not to her. She was thankful when Raoul told his guests that refreshments were being served in the adjoining room, and conversation broke out again.

'I wish you had warned me,' she said to him, in
a
low tone.

'I purposely didn't. I thought it might make you nervous,' he answered.

This was neither the time nor the place to tell him that, had he appraised her of his intention, she would have declined to participate in the ordeal which had just concluded.

'I hope Brandt hasn't been boring you. About eight months ago he lost his wife to whom he was very devoted. It's his first visit here without her. I asked him to look after you in the hope it would take his mind off her absence,' he explained.

'I like him—he's extremely interesting. I'll go back to him now, as you have to concentrate on being host.

She was interrupted by a woman in scarlet taffeta who surged up to them, saying gushingly, 'I just adore this gorgeous necklace Miss Roberts is wearing, Mr Santerre. Did you design it for her, or is it for sale?'

For a fraction of a second he hesitated. He didn't glance at her neck which, Summer saw, was encircled y rubies and diamonds; but probably he knew without looking that she had a dewlap between her chin and her necklace, and her chest had dull, mottled skin which a wiser woman of her years would have veiled with the flattery of chiffon.