Voice of the Heart (93 page)

‘What about?’

The question astonished him and his black brows drew together in perplexity. ‘Surely that’s obvious. Since you’ve been back in London you refuse to take my calls, to meet me, and finally, when I do manage to get you on the ’phone, you blithely announce everything is over between us and hang up. Jesus Christ, Ches, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?’

Her head came up with swiftness. ‘
Explanation?
’ She laughed hollowly. ‘If anything is
obvious
it’s your situation. Your marital situation to be precise. You are back with your wife. She is living with you at Claridge’s,’ Francesca snapped.

The iciness in her tone was so unprecedented he was astounded. He exclaimed heatedly, ‘She’s
not
living with me! Yes, she is staying at Claridge’s, but not with
me
. She has her own suite.’

‘I’m really quite uninterested in your family sleeping arrangements,’ she retorted, her face stiff and closed.

He flinched, but chose to ignore both the crack and her derisive tone. ‘The only reason Arlene is in London is to finalize the settlement, and you know that, Ches. It will be worked out. It’s taking longer than I expected because of the many complexities. But look, I didn’t ask Nicky to get you over here to talk about my… problems. I want to talk about
you
. Why are you acting so strangely? What’s happened between us to cause this… this rift?’

She opened her mouth, and then closed it adamantly, terrified of saying the wrong thing, of telling him the truth. Suddenly, for the first time since entering the room, she really saw him, and his appearance appalled her. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and his handsome face was gaunt, even haggard. Exhaustion was written all over it, and despite the tan he looked ill. For a split second Francesca
softened, wanted to reach out and touch him, to comfort him.
I love him so much. I will never stop loving him all the days of my life. There will only ever be him for me. He’s my heart
. A lump wedged in her throat and she was afraid she would break down. And then she thought: He’s not sick. He’s been over indulging in the high life. His infidelity loomed larger than ever in her head, and the anguish of heart and mind he had caused her came rushing back, ran quick and virulent in her blood. Victor Mason had killed her soul. She could never trust him again. She did not dare. She hardened herself towards him.

Taking a deep breath, Francesca repeated softly, ‘What happened?’ Looking down at her hands, unable to meet the dark and penetrating gaze, she said, with enormous coldness, ‘I came to my senses, Victor.’

‘What do you mean by that
exactly
?’ He leaned forward with such suddenness and urgency she shrank back in the chair and then her lovely amber eyes were raised to his. As he looked into them Victor saw something he could not quite define, and his heart twisted with dismay. He reached for his drink and, much to his annoyance, his hand shook. Putting the glass down unsteadily, he pressed, ‘I asked you what you meant.’ He waited, alarmed at the apprehension he was experiencing.

Francesca knew there was no going back now, that she must bring this meeting to a conclusion, and leave as rapidly and as gracefully as possible. She could not stand being near him any longer. She said, ‘Arlene’s arrival pointed up so much to me. I saw things clearly for the first time, as they really are. You are
married
, Victor, and your divorce could take years. I also began to realize that our relationship could never work. There are too many things against us.’

‘Such as
what
precisely?’ he asked in a strangled voice, his face tightening.

‘Our age difference to begin with. You’re too old for me.’

He stifled a small involuntary gasp, but he could not keep the hurt off his face. ‘I don’t believe that!’ he cried with great vehemence.

‘Oh but you did once. I haven’t forgotten how ambivalent you were about me, because I’m twenty years younger than you. Then there are the differences in our backgrounds and the fives we lead. I know you’re a sophisticated, well-travelled man, and perhaps you
do
understand my world. However, I don’t understand yours at all, and I doubt I ever will. I would be like a fish out of water with you. And finally, there is my father. Quite frankly, although he might like you on a man-to-man basis, I hardly think he would approve of you as my… boyfriend.’ She paused, looked away, then finished, ‘All these things clarified for me.
That’s what happened.
There’s no point in making this a protracted dialogue. It’s over, finished between us.’

Rarely had Victor been shaken as he was at this moment, and for once he was incapable of responding. In that politely insidious way, which was so typically English, she had adroitly insulted him on a number of levels. There had also been a hard, even cruel, note in her voice which he had trouble reconciling with the Francesca he knew. He was on the verge of sweeping aside her arguments, of asking her to marry him. But he was not free to do so. He lit a cigarette shakily and the strangest feeling came over him. He doubted her. Doubted the reasons she had given for ending their relationship.

Francesca stood up. ‘I’d better go.’

He flung the cigarette in the ashtray, sprang to his feet, was by her side in two long strides, grasping her by the shoulders, swinging her to face him, staring into her face. His eyes were bleak with desperation, his mouth ringed in white. ‘Ches, please, you can’t leave like this. Please, baby. You must know how I feel, that I love you. I love you, darling.’ He pulled her into his arms, gripping her to him.

No you don’t love me, she thought angrily. You have a
damaged ego because
I
walked out on
you
. She struggled free. ‘Please, Victor, let us part in a civilized manner.’

He gaped at her, further shaken by her calculated cold control. ‘Don’t you love me any more, Ches?’

‘No,’ she lied, and turned away. ‘Please don’t come to the door. I’ll find my own way out.’

‘Yes,’ he said numbly. He watched her leave. That’s my fife walking out of here, he thought. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

The door clicked. He was alone. More alone than he had ever been in his entire forty years, except when Ellie died. He slumped into a chair, dazed by the abruptness with which their meeting had been terminated. He had planned it so differently. His plans had somehow gone awry, God knows why. He dropped his head into his hands, discovered, with a little spurt of surprise, that his face was wet. He pressed his fingers to his aching eyes. He heard the door opening and looked up eagerly, with renewed hope. But it was not her. It was Nicky.

‘Are you okay?’ Nicky walked across the room slowly, perturbed to see Victor’s most obvious distress, his wet eyes.

‘Sure, I’ll live.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Sorry you’re seeing me in this state.’ He ran his hands over his face, shook his head. ‘She just did me in, and in a way no woman ever has.’

‘Christ, I’m sorry, Vic. I’d hoped it would turn out differently. But I knew it had blown when she left. I was on the steps, getting a breath of air. She flew straight past me, cut me dead. She looked awful. As upset as you are.’

‘I guess it was an ordeal—for both of us.’ He looked at Nick for the longest moment. ‘I’ve only ever loved two women in my life… I mean
truly
loved. One died on me. The other just walked out on me.’ He took a long swallow of his Scotch, then lit another cigarette, taking hold of himself. ‘
C’est la guerre
, old buddy,’ he added with a laugh that had no laughter in it.

Nick went to the armoire, poured himself a vodka, added ice. He carried the drink back to the sofa, sat down, staring intently at Victor. ‘What did she say?’

Victor told him everything. He finished slowly, thoughtfully, ‘For a minute, though, I had the queerest feeling she was lying. But I guess I was wrong. It’s not in Ches to lie. She told it to me
exactly
the way she sees it. Damn Arlene. She’s the cause of this trouble. If she hadn’t landed on me in the South of France none of this would have happened.’

‘Did you tell Francesca about the detectives, the things Arlene has threatened to do?’

‘No, I didn’t get a chance, and—’

‘Oh Jesus, Vic, you should have told her.’

‘There was no point. It would have only frightened her, and it wouldn’t have achieved one goddamn thing. Besides, Ches was pretty unbending. She made up her mind about us weeks ago, and she’s not about to change it. Too stubborn, the little one.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘Ches is also very very young, Nicky, in a variety of ways. And the young are notoriously impatient. They want instant solutions, see everything in black and white. There are no greys for them, and yet the whole goddamn world is grey. To the young, compromise is a nonexistent word.’ He exhaled, went on softly. ‘I know Ches is intelligent, and abnormally perceptive about many things; even so, she simply doesn’t have the maturity… to… understand my problems, nor the experience to grasp the countless complexities of my life. She hasn’t lived long enough to learn how to cope.’ His lids lifted and he straightened up in the chair. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best. I mean that she’s ditched me.’

‘You can’t be serious! Aren’t you going to do anything—’

‘I’m not going to pursue her, Nicky, so don’t try to persuade me. She said I was too old for her, and she’s undoubtedly right. I certainly feel it today.’

‘Come on, Vic, you’re talking nonsense,’ Nick exclaimed. Nonetheless, he had to admit that Victor did not look his
usual robust self and had not for several weeks. He had been working long hours with Mark Pierce and the editor, preparing the answer print of
Wuthering Heights
, as well as attending to countless other details about the distribution. When he was not caught up with business, he was wrangling with Arlene, or conferring long-distance with his lawyers on the Coast, or with his brother Armando, who handled some of his other interests. No wonder he appeared to be worn out. Nick said, ‘I wish you’d get a check-up. You look lousy, in my opinion.’

‘I’m okay. It’s just fatigue. I’ve spent the last few nights on the ’phone to L.A. so I’ve hardly had any sleep. None last night, as a matter of fact. Johnnie Seltzer and Perry Lukas saw to that. I must have talked to them both about half a dozen times. About the Monarch situation.’

Nick nodded. ‘Is there about to be a débâcle?’

‘Possibly. But I hope not. Johnnie is hell bent on helping Perry circumvent Mike Lazarus. I’m throwing in with them. Even if I didn’t want to, which I do, I’ve no other choice really. Jesus, Nicky, I’m carrying so much Monarch stock I’m sinking under it.’

‘How much?’

‘About five million dollars worth.’

Nick whistled. ‘Holy Christ!’ Another thought struck him. ‘Remember what I told you? That I believe Hilly Steed is hand-in-glove with Lazarus, even though he plays the innocent?’ Victor nodded, and Nick continued, ‘Well, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced I’m right. It makes sense. He wants to head the studio, wrest control from Perry.’

‘Sure, Perry’s come around to believing that now, even though he didn’t want to think his son-in-law was knifing him in the back. But that’s Hollywood, old buddy. Or anywhere, for that matter, when big money is involved.’ Victor laughed cynically. ‘Johnnie Seltzer is the smartest lawyer that little old
ville
has ever seen. Tough. A brilliant
negotiator and a shrewd manipulator. Fast talker, but sound. Perry’s in good hands.’

‘Do you think your team can win? Against Lazarus?’

‘If anybody can outsmart Lazarus it’s Johnnie Seltzer. Yes, with a bit of luck he might just pull it off. This time around.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Lazarus has set his sights on the Monarch Picture Corporation of America. He wants it badly. So, although he might fail in his take-over bid this time, the bastard will keep trying. One day he may well succeed. But by then I will have unloaded my stock, and Perry will have protected his flanks in other ways.’

‘What’s the next move?’

‘Perry’s calling a special board meeting for next week, and Johnnie’s collecting proxies from other stockholders. They’ve been urging me to fly back to L.A. and I dunk I will. There’s nothing to keep me here now, and I have the picture to worry about, apart from my Monarch stock. Besides, I’ll have Ben Challis in my backyard, and he might be able to talk some sense into Arlene. She’s another reason I think I should beat it. I’ll breathe easier when she’s out of this town.’

‘She’s not going to be easy to handle, Vic.’

Victor laughed coldly. ‘You’re telling
me.
’

‘What about Francesca?’

‘There’s nothing I can do about Ches until I’ve sorted out my problems, until I’m a free man.’

‘By then it might be too late, maestro.’

Victor did not answer.

***

The winter came down hard in Yorkshire that year.

The autumn foliage that had brushstroked the landscape with glorious rafts of russet and gold seemed to fade and wither overnight, and the bright sunshine of those Indian summer days of late September and early October gave way to
rain-filled clouds and biting winds that swept in across the fells from the North Sea. By the middle of the month, hoary frost coated the blackened fields with tracings of silver, and the remote etiolated skies presaged snow. This began to fall steadily before November was out, blanketing the wild and sombre moors with a soft white mantle that softened their bleak and daunting aspects, brought a shimmering beauty to the landscape surrounding Langley village.

Despite the snow and the blizzards, the roaring gales and the generally harsh weather, preparations for the marriage of Doris and the Earl continued without interruption, and the castle was a hive of feverish activity. Doris had virtually moved into the castle, and although she was shrewd enough not to interfere with the management of the household, she did begin to spruce up the family’s private apartments, giving them a few touches of comfort. New slip covers were made for the faded, chintz-covered sofas and chairs; heated towel rails appeared in the bathrooms; radiators were installed in the draughty bedrooms. The latest Aga stove and a huge refrigerator-freezer were ordered for the old-fashioned kitchen.