Season of Shadows (19 page)

'Old love dies hard, they say,' Alex observed dryly.

'Yes.' The sword twisted, adding to her suffering.

'Did you marry him for your niece's sake?'

Startled, she asked, 'What on earth makes you think that?'

'People talk,' Alex said absently. 'You know how it is.'

A look of distaste crossed her face. 'You shouldn't lend
out your ears to gossip, Alex.'

'I don't usually, but when it's about someone I admire and
respect very much, then I can't help listening and wondering,' he
explained calmly, almost casually. 'You're
not
happy, I know that, and if those rumours are true…'

He left his sentence unfinished, and Laura stared
thoughtfully at the ever-changing face of the sea for a time before she
sighed audibly. 'I hardly know you, Alex, but for some reason I like
you, and trust you.'

'What you're actually trying to tell me is that those
rumours are true.'

It was a statement, not a question, and she nodded
slightly. 'Yes, they're true.'

His shrewd glance observed her for a moment across the
easel. 'Am I right in suspecting you've fallen in love with your
husband?'

'You're very astute,' she smiled, but her smile was tinged
with sadness.

'As an artist I have to be,' he stated calmly, and worked
on in silence for several minutes before he asked, 'Does he know how
you feel about him?'

'No.'

'Don't you think it would make a difference if he knew?'

'It would make matters worse, and besides…'
Laura paused, her eyes darkening with pain, 'what chance do I have
against someone as beautiful as Camilla?'

'You must credit your husband with some sense, Laura,'
Alex said in a faintly reprimanding voice. 'He's not an imbecile.'

'I never said be
was
, but—'

'Isn't he worth fighting for?' Alex interrupted.

'Oh, Alex…' she laughed, but her laughter was
laced with bitterness. 'I'm way out of my depth, and I know it. I
always thought that loving someone came simply and naturally, but
instead I find myself in a situation where I feel like a novice playing
a game without knowing the rules. It's like being on a battlefield with
everyone shouting "Fight, fight!" but there are no weapons about.'

'You have the strongest weapon in your possession,' Alex
told her, and when she ventured a curious glance in his direction, he
added: 'Love.'

'Love?' she repeated stupidly.

'Do you think the Countess is really capable of offering
him a deep, abiding love which is as unselfish and undemanding as
yours?' A disparaging sound passed his lips before he continued. 'She's
a cold fish, Laura. Her love could be measured by a man's bank balance,
and if that should ever dwindle, then so would her love—and
very quickly too, I might add.'

Laura did not doubt the validity of that statement, but at
that moment there was something more important to consider, and she
grimaced as she said: 'I think I'm developing a cramp.'

'Take a break,' he said at once, putting down his brushes
and palette. 'I'll make us a pot of tea.'

Laura stretched her legs and arched her back, then she
walked across to the window and stared down into the street below. The
traffic never ceased, and neither did the noise, but beyond it lay the
ocean, calm and untroubled with the waves washing out on to the rocky
beach in an almost leisurely fashion. If only her life could be as calm
and untroubled as the sea that morning, she thought with a sigh. She
had confided in Alex more than she had done with anyone else, and it
had been a relief to talk about it, but she had still come no nearer to
finding a solution. There was no magic wand that she could wave; no
instant remedy for a heart that ached for a love it could never have,
and she somehow had the feeling that time was running out on her.

Her session with Alex lasted longer than usual that day,
and it was almost two o'clock when she finally stepped out of the
building and into the wintery sunshine.

'Well, imagine meeting you here,' a familiar voice stopped
Laura in her tracks, and she turned to see Camilla walking towards her.
'Have you been visiting a friend?' she asked, gesturing towards the
building Laura had just left. 'Or were you hoping to discover where I
lived?'

'I was visiting a friend,' Laura assured her hastily,
feeling unaccountably nervous. 'If you'll excuse me, I—'

'Don't go yet.' A bejewelled hand gripped Laura's arm.
'There's a tea-room across the street, and it's time you and I had a
little talk.'

'Really, Countess von Dissel, I can't think of anything
you and I have in common that needs discussing.'

'It concerns Anton.'

'Anton?' Laura asked sharply, cold fear gripping her heart.

'I thought that would interest you.' Camilla smiled that
humourless smile which Laura knew could only spell danger, and,
releasing Laura's arm, suggested confidently, 'Shall we go?'

Laura nodded, but she knew that nothing good could come of
this meeting with the beautiful Countess von Dissel, only heartache.

In the beachfront tea-room overlooking the swimming pools
and rock gardens, Laura sat facing Camilla across the small table.
Their tea had arrived, and Camilla had poured, but they had exchanged
nothing but senseless platitudes which had only served to increase
Laura's tension. 'Countess, I'm in rather a hurry, and Sally will be
home soon,' Laura said eventually when she could stand it no longer.
'Shall we get to the point?'

'Very well, darling, we'll get straight to the point, as
you say.' The smile of false geniality vanished, and Laura found
herself staring into the cold, hard eyes of her enemy. 'I want Anton.'

Laura felt her insides lurch sickeningly, but except for a
faint whiteness about her mouth, her expression remained miraculously
cool and unperturbed as she said calmly, 'You should tell Anton that,
not me.'

A semblance of a smile touched that hard but beautiful
mouth. 'I already have, darling, but I think it's only fair that you
should know about it.'

'And now that I do know, what do you expect me to do about
it?'

'Leave him, or give him sufficient reason to divorce you.'

Laura drew a careful, agonising breath. 'You've discussed
this with Anton?'

'Naturally.'

'And if I refuse to do as you both obviously want?'

'Darling, everyone knows you married each other for the
child's sake,' Camilla laughed softly, but her laughter was venomous.
'You wouldn't want to force Anton to continue with this marriage when
you know his interests are elsewhere, would you?'

'Anton is Sally's guardian, and he would never shirk his
responsibilities.'

'Naturally,' Camilla smiled again, 'but carrying out his
responsibilities doesn't necessarily mean that he must continue with a
marriage which is beginning to bore him, does it?'

He was bored with their marriage, and bored with her!
Those words, like carefully directed barbs, found their mark with
painful precision.

'Has he asked you to marry him?' Laura asked at length
when she was able to trust her voice.

'How can he while he's still married to you?'

'He's led you to believe, though, that he wants to marry
you,' Laura persisted, driving the painful barbs deeper into her own
heart.

'If I didn't believe it, then I wouldn't be sitting here
talking to you like this, would I?' Camilla smiled coldly, a gleam of
triumph in her dark eyes as she saw the colour drain from Laura's face.

She had won, and she knew it, Laura thought as
helplessness and despair settled about her like a heavy clod;. 'You
have the strongest weapon in your possession,' she recalled Alex's
words.
Love
! It was like sitting with an ace up
her sleeve, but with no opportunity to play it, she realised dismally.

'Why didn't you marry Anton years ago when you had the
opportunity?' she asked at last, staring down into her untouched cup of
tea.

'Darling, I was young and foolish, and we'd argued. I took
the argument seriously, and married Karl von Dissel on the rebound.'
Camilla paused effectively, her features assuming a suitable expression
of regret which lacked conviction to the discerning eye. 'It was a
mistake,' she continued. 'I know that now, and I ruined the lives of
three people—Karl's, Anton's, and my own.'

'And you're about to ruin mine,' the words sprang to mind,
but they remained unuttered as Laura unclenched her hands in her lap
and picked up her handbag. 'Was there anything else you wanted to tell
me?' she asked coldly.

'No, my dear, except…' Camilla's smile was
chilling… 'don't stand in the way of Anton's happiness. It
would be spiteful and childish of you.'

Laura drove back to Bellavista that day in a numbed state
of indecision and uncertainty. She had to think, but her brain refused
to co-operate, and she spent the afternoon merely going through the
motions of attending to Sally's needs.

'I'm going for a walk,' she said at last, hoping the fresh
air would clear her mind and lift the veil of depression which had
settled about her.

'But it's almost time for dinner,' Sally wailed in protest.

'I'll be back in time,' Laura murmured distractedly as she
stepped out on to the sunstoep and, without thinking, chose the path
leading towards the slope of the mountain.

She walked briskly at first, and then slower as the
agonising memory of her conversation with Camilla washed over her. Her
brain was suddenly alive; frantically alive as it darted from one
aching thought to the next until she cried out in silent desperation.

'I
can't
let him marry Camilla.
She'll hurt him again. She'll ruin him for ever. I
can't
let him go. I
won't
! I'm going to have his child,
and when he knows…'

She was climbing now. Higher and higher, unaware of where
she was going, and unaware of the descending mist becoming denser by
the second. She was fighting a lonely, desperate battle with herself,
and she was losing. If what Camilla had said was the truth, then Anton
shall have his freedom.

'I can't keep him tied to me,' Laura spoke out loud into
the mist without quite realising it, and her voice sounded raw and
quite unlike her own. 'I can't hold him against his will; not for
Sally's sake, and
never
for the sake of the child
I'm carrying. I couldn't bear it if he stayed with me for that reason.
I just
couldn't
!'

That was her last conscious thought before her feet
slipped from under her. Her head struck something hard, there was a
blinding flash of pain, and then she sank willingly into the dark pit
of oblivion which seemed to open up in front of her.

Laura
had no idea how long she had lain there on the mountain, but she came
to her senses with the realisation that she was cold and uncomfortably
wet. It was dark, and her head throbbed painfully with every beat of
her heart. Where was she? she wondered frantically, trying to sit up,
but her head ached to such an extent that she groaned and lowered
herself on to the uneven ground once more. She had no idea which way
she had come, and Anton had warned her once of the hidden dangers when
out climbing in the mist.

'Stay away from the mountain,' he had said, 'but if you're
ever caught up there in the mist, don't panic, and stay where you are
until help arrives.'

'Don't panic and stay where you are,' she repeated to
herself. It was helpful advice, but, heaven help her, she was wet
through and shivering with cold, and her head felt as if it wanted to
burst. Somewhere, through the deathly silence of the mist, a voice was
calling out a name at regular intervals, and she went colder still as
she recalled the story of Friedrich walking the mist at night in search
of Dora, the woman he had loved.

Was that someone calling her name? she wondered, straining
her ears. Or was it Dora?

'That would depend on whether it was Friedrich or Anton
out there roaming the mist,' she finally concluded a little
hysterically.

She tried to cry out, but no sound passed her lips as she
waited in a mixture of terror and hope for the owner of that voice to
reach her. An eternity seemed to pass before her terrified eyes
glimpsed a dark shape emerging from the mist, but then she wished that
she had been less eager.

'Oh, God, it's Friedrich,' she thought hysterically as she
turned her eyes away from the blinding light flashed at her, but there
was nothing ghostly about the muttered oath that reached her ears, nor
in the strong arms lifting her, and when her throbbing head came to
rest on a familiar shoulder, she suddenly knew no more.

She rose eventually to a level of consciousness where she
became aware of lying on a bed. Strong, yet surprisingly gentle, hands
removed her wet clothes from her shivering body, and she was wrapped in
something warm and dry. It was Anton. She knew his touch. But for once
she did not mind, and as he pulled the blankets up about her, she
sighed and slipped deeper into the vale of darkness from which she
emerged again much later to find Graham Abbot bending over her
anxiously.

'Well, you've certainly taken your time about waking up,
haven't you?' he teased, his finger lingering on her pulse.

'What time is it?' she asked weakly, fully conscious now.

'Almost eleven o'clock.'

'Almost eleven?' Laura sat up with a jerk, only to fall
back against the pillows a moment later when a stab of pain tore
through her temples. 'Oh, my head!' she groaned.

'You have a nasty bump there, but all in all you've had a
lucky escape,' Graham told her lightly.

'A lucky escape from what?' she grunted, examining the
egg-shaped lump against the side of her head with gentle fingers.

'Pneumonia for one,' Graham replied dryly. 'You must have
been lying unconscious for almost three hours before Anton found you.'