Sweet Sanctuary (19 page)

He blazed, "Thank you, Pollyanna! That was all I needed, sweet and holy comment from you! Sylvia's right about you and Aunt Elaine—one has to defend oneself against you both."

"You don't need defences against me, Nick," she said in a cold voice.

His rage had died, though. He glanced at her sidelong, his mouth pulling down at the corners. "God, I'm sorry, Kate. That was unforgivable of me. I'm a brute. It's the strain…" His voice faded and the firm mouth clamped together. He said nothing else for some time.

Then he asked her, "Have you spoken to Aunt Elaine about leaving Sanctuary?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"What effect did you have?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry…"

"She wouldn't even consider it?" He spoke tersely, his frown heavy.

"When she's just been very ill, possibly more ill than we realise, how could I press the point? She thinks of the house as her home, Nick! To leave Sanctuary might kill her!"

"Do you think I haven't thought about that?" He turned a dark, tormented face towards her. "Don't mention the idea to her again, I've changed my mind."

She was very still, afraid to look at him. In a thin, still voice she asked him, "Changed your mind, Nick?"

"I can't ask Aunt Elaine to leave her home. She's too old. Sylvia… we must come to terms with the situation as it is."

What would Sylvia make of that? Kate wondered. She shot Nick a pitying look. He was driving with a set expression, his knuckles white on the wheel, his jaw clenched as if to control some fierce emotion which threatened to overwhelm him.

After a moment he said huskily, "Kate, wait a while before you look elsewhere for a job. Aunt Elaine still needs you." He paused, then added tersely, "We all need you."

Sylvia's party was crowned with success from the start. She had had her wish, and the weather was fine. A clear, unclouded evening sky was sprinkled with a few faint stars. A crescent moon rode the horizon like a slice of thin lemon. The wind was mild and warm, from the south, and the barbecue could be held safely in the paddock next to her house.

Her family were solid middle-class. Her house, a square, modern building in red brick with a neat garden and unimaginative decorations, was perhaps one reason for her obsessive desire for Sanctuary. Sylvia undoubtedly saw the elegant, decaying old house in a very favourable light after the rather boring comfort of her own home.

She had never lacked money, and Kate guessed tonight that money was really not as important to her as the ownership of Sanctuary. Money could not buy you everything.

Sylvia hung on Nick's arm tonight, glittering and deadly, like a silver snake, her slender body curving towards him, her blonde hair fanning his dark shoulder.

She wore a very tight silver dress which was ridiculous for a barbecue yet somehow looked superb in the pale light of the lamps set up around the paddock.

Kate observed that Sylvia was careful not to walk far. She stayed within the ambience of the tables set up for the party, her small silver-clad feet unmuddied by the paddock since she walked always on the boards laid down to surround the cooking and serving area.

The air was blue with smoke and fragrant with the odour of cooking steak, and the subtle tang of the herbs which were being sprinkled on the meat as it cooked. Marjoram, rosemary and thyme gave a pungent savour to the meat.

Kate, innocent about barbecues, had come in slacks and a warm sweater, expecting a casual party. Many others, she was glad to find, had done the same. Sylvia stood out among them all like a firefly among midges. She moved, shining and charismatic, among her guests, followed by many pairs of eyes; some admiring, some envious, some resentful.

Nick arrived at Kate's elbow, handed her a paper cup. "Sorry, no glasses, because it might be dangerous if one was broken out here in the dark."

She thanked him and sipped. The flavour was odd, warm and spicy.

"Hot punch," Nick said with an amused grin. "Well, it's supposed to be hot. What do you think of it?"

"Very pleasant," she said.

Sylvia tinkled up to them, her arm curving up into Nick's elbow, her hand white in the darkness. Thin silver bracelets clinked as she moved. She wore ear-rings which matched.

"Nick, our guests want to talk to you!" She ignored Kate. Her smile at Nick had the quality of ice shimmering under the rising sun. There was a veiled threat to her words.

A band had arrived, a few young musicians in sequin-studded costumes, carrying instruments. Figures moved to and fro, switching on the electricity which powered the electric guitars.

When they began to play, the guests stood about, applauding, then began to dance. The ground was dry enough to be used for dancing, and the paddock had been mowed carefully the previous day. A scent of new-mown grass still hung faintly in the air.

Nick was dancing with Sylvia, his dark head bent over her fair one, her slender body glittering in his arms.

Kate watched them with bitter pain, then looked away hurriedly as Nick glanced across at her.

Nearby she caught a glimpse of the distinguished stranger she had seen several times with Sylvia, Sir Rodney Paton. He, too, was watching Sylvia and Nick. He had a rueful look about him as he stared at them.

Kate watched him, pitying him and wondering what it was that men saw in Sylvia that could hold them so irresistibly. She was very beautiful, it was true, but she was cold and selfish. Were men unable to see the truth about her, or did they prefer to shut their eyes to it?

Suddenly Sir Rodney turned his head, as if becoming conscious of her scrutiny, and looked at her. Their eyes met, and Kate blushed. He smiled, quizzically, and walked towards her.

"May I have this dance?" He had a quiet, warm voice which she rather liked.

She hesitated for a moment, uncertain of her response, but she had little choice, unless she was prepared to be uncivil, and so she smiled back and thanked him.

He danced extremely well. At these close quarters she found him even more attractive than she had expected. He was not a young man, of course, but he had been very handsome, she saw, and still retained a faded aura of good looks. There was charm in his smile, in the twinkling eyes and well-cut mouth. He was confident, relaxed and easy to talk to.

He asked her about herself, was interested when he heard that she was employed at Sanctuary. She caught his quick glance at Nick, saw a shrewdness in his good-humoured face as he assessed Nick briefly.

"How do you get on with Mrs. Butler?" The question had a faint amusement behind it, and she' suspected that he had heard Sylvia's version of the relations existing between herself and Mrs. Butler, and that he had not necessarily believed it wholesale.

"I'm very fond of her," Kate said frankly. "She's been kind to me, and she has a warm heart."

"An animal-lover, isn't she? Prefers animals to humans?" He looked down into Kate's face with a quirk of his eyebrows, inviting her to respond with amusement.

"She loves animals," Kate agreed. "But she loves her nephew, too—more than the animals, I'm certain."

"Ah?" Sir Rodney was interested. "Yet she opposes his engagement? A possessive woman?"

Kate shook her head. "That's not her reason."

He watched her face thoughtfully. "Do you know why she opposes it, then?"

Kate hesitated, then looked up at him, her eyes clear and cool. "It really isn't my business, Sir Rodney."

"Quite right," he agreed softly.

They circled for a while, passing Sylvia and Nick, Sylvia looked at them with a faint frown, her expression haughty. Nick glanced at them, then did a double take, his brows jerking together. Kate blushed under his fierce scrutiny, and looked away, trembling slightly.

Sir Rodney looked down at her curiously, then looked at Nick. The two men stared at each other intently.

Sir Rodney whistled softly under his breath, a little smile curling his mouth.

Jimmy Whitney was standing beside the barbecue tables, holding a jacket potato in a paper napkin. He waved and grinned at Kate as she walked towards him with Sir Rodney.

"A friend of yours?" Sir Rodney studied him. "I've seen him before, I think,"

She introduced them. Jimmy was polite but non-committal. He put down his baked potato and asked Kate to dance, wiping his fingers neatly on another napkin.

She shyly excused herself to Sir Rodney, and slid off with Jimmy, his arm around her waist. The music softened to a waltz. There were fewer couples on the paddock. Many people had moved off to sample the food.

"I've bought a new car," Jimmy informed her with great satisfaction.

"Another one?" She laughed up at him, her eyes warmly teasing. "How do you afford it? Does your father mind the way you keep spending all your money on new cars?"

"I have to have some pleasures," he said rather sulkily. She saw that her suspicion had shot home. His father had complained to him about the number of new cars he kept buying.

"I suppose it's a fairly innocent hobby," she comforted. They whirled around in silence for a while, wrapped in a friendly mood. Jimmy looked down at her to smile, his nose crinkling in a teasing look.

"Why not come and have a look at my car? I'll take you for a test drive. It can do a hundred miles an hour. I've had it out on the motorway—the London road. It was a fantastic sensation. The power seems to throb under your feet."

She shivered. "Thank you, Jimmy, but I'm afraid speed like that terrifies me. I prefer my feet on the ground."

"Coward," he scoffed. "Come on, I dare you!"

They flew round in a graceful swirl. She caught Nick's glance as they passed him, and wished suddenly that she was wearing more feminine clothes; a full skirt which could flare elegantly when she danced like this. Nick's brows were lifted in a cold derision. His lip twisted slightly, in a faint sneer, as though he were inwardly laughing at her. She felt a pulsing fury in her veins as he turned his head to smile at Sylvia, so lovely and deadly in her silver gown.

"Well, if you want me to come for a drive, Jimmy," she said impulsively, "I'll come!"

He grinned at her in delight. "Great! We'll have a drive along the lanes for half an hour—there's never any traffic on these roads at this time of night—too isolated. We should be able to try the car out in all her paces."

She had a sudden qualm. "Not too fast, Jimmy!"

He smiled at her calmingly. "Of course not, you goose!"

As they walked out of the paddock gate they bumped into Sir Rodney, leaning thoughtfully against an elm tree whose shade made him almost indistinguishable. He leaned towards Kate, smiling curiously. The flare of the electric lights gave his face a look of returned youth.

"Not leaving, I hope?"

"Just for a while," Jimmy told him lightly.

"I look forward to your return," he said with a little bow of courtly courtesy.

Jimmy grinned down at Kate as they walked towards where his car was parked. "How did you get to know the great Sir Rodney? He's quite an old card, isn't he? Very attentive to the ladies, I've heard."

"He just asked me to dance earlier. I only met him then for the first time." She stared as they halted beside a gleaming little sports car, all shiny chrome and scarlet paint. "Good lord!" Her tone was awed.

"Isn't she fantastic?" Jimmy touched the bonnet with a proprietorial finger. "Hop in—and I'll put her through her paces."

The air rushed past them at an alarming speed as he put his foot down on the accelerator. Kate gasped a warning. He grinned, and slowed down to take a corner. Dark green hedges, the far, misty levels of the marshland on the horizon, and above them the sky, clear and soft, starlit and hauntingly lovely. Her skin glowed with the rough caress of the wind. Her hair 'blew back, tangled in dozens of curls, flying out over her shoulders.

The bright beam of their advance preceded them along the lanes. Now and then they passed small cottages, whitewashed and set in neat gardens. Once they saw a Victorian villa, bay-windowed and massive, set about with laurels and monkey puzzle trees, their shadows thrown upon the old brick walls by the light of an antique lamp set in the gateway to illumine the path.