The Silk Vendetta (48 page)

”So your husband was alive then?”

“He died soon after.”

“You say she stayed in the house with you?”

”Yes, for a few days. She made a great impression on Charles … as she obviously has on you.”

“She is one to make an impression. Go on,”

“Well, Charles was very taken with her. I remember he, with my husband, went to London for the day on business and during that day her brother sent the carriage for her. She was to go back to London as they were leaving for Italy immediately.”

“And you say your husband died soon after that?”

“Very shortly after. I forgot all about Madalenna de’ Pucci then.”

“Naturally. And your husband was found shot, you say.”

“In the forest, yes.”

“With his own gun?”

“Well, with one of the guns from the gun room.”

“And then she returned to London … not long ago.”

“Yes, Charles met her in the street by chance.”

“Fortuitous, eh?”

”He was delighted.”

“I can understand that, cannot you?”

“He was attracted by her as you obviously are.”

He smiled as though well pleased. He could not keep his eyes from the picture.

”How far did this affair between Charles and the beautiful lady go?”

“I don’t know. Julia did mention that she had been at the house to visit him. His rooms could be reached by a rather private staircase … a back staircase which led only to them.”

“So there were two ways to the rooms?”

“Exactly. The rooms were at the end of the first floor corridor. There was a door, I believe, which opened into the sitting room and the back staircase stopped at the dressing room door. I had never been on the staircase but Julia told me about it when Charles went there after his house was burned. She was saying how private he could be.”

“So his house was burned down?”

“Oh yes. He had a narrow escape. He would have been burned to death if his valet had not come back unexpectedly early. He had been drinking heavily, I think … and that was probably why he was trapped.”

“How dramatic! And this poisoned wine … that was in-tended for him. Does it not seem strange that he should have been almost burned to death and then shortly after there should be this attempt to poison him?”

“You think the burning of the house was deliberately planned?”

He looked steadily at me and lifted his shoulders.

I said slowly: “It is like a pattern. There was my husband. I never really believed he killed himself. There was no reason. It was very strange because there was a man … and that was in Italy. …”

“Tell me.”

I reminded him about Lorenzo who had gone into the streets of Florence wearing my husband’s opera cloak and hat and had been stabbed to death. “And then … when we came home Philip died.”

The Comte was thoughtful. “This is interesting. This Lorenzo could have been mistaken for your husband. Then soon after he is shot. This Charles … he is nearly burned to death and saved by his valet. Then he could have been poisoned and is saved by his sister who is killed instead of him. Does it not strike you as strange, Lenore?”

“It is very mysterious.”

“Now what I want to hear is about your politician.”

I told him about our childhood meeting and how we later became good friends.

“How good friends?”

“Rather special good friends.”

“And he was in love with you?”

I nodded.

“And you?”

“I thought it would be good for me … and for Katie … not to be alone.”

“My poor Lenore, so you were lonely.”

“No … no. I had my grandmother. I had my daughter. I had good friends but…”

“And the thriving business. Yes, you had much. But you thought this Drake could make you happier. But he married Julia … and you were hurt and then you came to France with your father … and I found you. It is all becoming very clear to me. I am a little jealous of this Drake.”

“Please, this is too serious a matter for meaningless gallantry.”

“Is that how you regard me … as a flippant gallant?”

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

“At the Park Hotel.”

“And you are … comfortable?”

“I do not know yet. I took my room … I leave my bags and I come at once to you.”

“It was good of you.”

“I will go now. I will see you soon. Do not fret. This will pass. The truth will be discovered.”

“I appreciate your coming,” I said.

”But of course I came.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

When he had gone I realized that he had taken the photograph with him, and that took away the pleasure I had had in seeing him again.

Depression descended on me once more.

How long the days were! I seemed to be walking about in a dream. I was deeply apprehensive.

I had visitors—steely-eyed men who hid their suspicion under cool politeness. The endless questions began again. I could see that they were trying to trap me into betraying something which would assure them of my guilt.

I wondered how long it would be before they came to a definite conclusion.

I believed Drake was undergoing the same sort of interrogation. The papers announced that the police were continuing with their enquiries. There was an account of Drake’s career, of his marriage to Julia, one of the Sallongers, it was stated, a member of the silk manufacturing family; Mr. Charles Sallonger was the one who had revolutionized the silk industry by putting on the market one of the finest silks ever known. There were accounts of how I had married Philip Sallonger who had shot himself shortly after the marriage. They had cast me in a very dramatic role—a woman whose husband had killed himself almost immediately after the marriage must be a femme fatale.

People paused to look at the salon as they passed. I did not go out during the day. It was too embarrassing to do so.

It was comforting to know that Katie was not here. She would be completely ignorant of what was going on and that was how I wanted it to be.

I did not know what would become of me, but I had been made to feel that I was under suspicion. I thanked God for Grand’mere as I had so many times in my life. If anything should happen to me she would look after Katie as well as could be possible in the circumstances. So would Cassie and the Countess. I wished they were both with us now, but I must rejoice that Katie was in their care.

Sometimes I found myself thinking of the Comte. I kept going over in my mind that moment when he had entered the room. What joy that had brought me! I had let my feelings for him go too far. I had pretended that this was not so—but of course I was wrong. I had betrayed myself to myself in those few moments.

I wished I had stayed in France. I wished I had had the courage to continue to see him. Then I should not have been here when this frightening thing had happened. But when I had seen him and learned that he had come to England to see me—in spite of Grand’mere’s disapproval of him—that wild joy had temporarily obliterated everything else and really explained my feelings towards him—and there was no point in denying them.

But he had disappointed me, as I should have known he always would. He could not be faithful even for a short while. While he was saying he had come to see me, he was so taken with the picture of the beautiful Italian that he had forgotten me and my predicament in his admiration for her.

And he had taken the picture.

It was a strange coincidence that he should have known her, but then he was a much travelled man and he had lived on the borders of Italy and would doubtless have been in that country often. They must have met at some gathering for he had recognized her at once—and from that moment it had seemed that the picture obsessed him.

That was how it would always be with him. I had been a fool to let myself dream dreams which had no foundation in reality.

Grand’mere was right. What would it mean with him? A few weeks of happiness … and then he would make the excuses … oh, very gallantly, of course, very suavely—and then off on the next pursuit.

I had not seen him for four days. Why did he not call? He had said he would come and see me … and he had been near.

I must forget him. But how could I?

I felt a kind of obsession. I had to see him. I had to tell him that I was hurt because he had not come to see me as he had promised. It was a humiliating thing to do, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

It was dusk. I put on my outdoors clothes and went out. It was not far to the Park Hotel. I slipped in through the swing doors and approached the desk.

“Yes, Madam?” said the clerk.

“I wanted to know if the Comte de Carsonne is in?”

The man looked at me in surprise. “Madam, the Comte left some days ago.”

“Oh,” I said faintly. “I see.”

He consulted the book. “Yes, he left on the afternoon of the 14th.”

It was the day after I had seen him. He had taken the picture and gone back … without even telling me that he was going. He must have gone straight back to the hotel after leaving me and made plans for departure.

I felt desperately unhappy.

It is typical of him! I told myself angrily. But anger did not help me. I felt lost, bewildered, and the clouds of apprehension which had been hanging over me so long seemed heavier and closer than ever. I had never felt so wretched in my life.

Tension was mounting. I endured more visits and more questions. I felt they were closing in on me. I wondered what Drake was feeling.

There was speculation in the press. It was thought that the police would soon be making an announcement. That, I presumed, meant an arrest. Would it be Drake, the husband? Husbands are always suspects on such occasions. Could it be Lenore Sallonger— the ”mysterious widow,” they were calling me—the famous dressmaker whose husband had committed suicide? I was tired of it… tired of it all.

And so it went on.

Grand’mere and I would sit together in the evenings, not bothering to light the gas. We sat in the dark, holding hands sometimes. She, too, had never been so frightened and wretched in her life.

We did not speak of the trouble. Neither of us had anything more to say. She would dwell on the past and tell me little incidents from my childhood, and then suddenly her voice would break and she would be unable to go on.

I used to let my mind wander back to those days in France. I thought of the chateau and wondered what he was doing now and whether he had been successful in his search for Madalenna.

I tried to tell myself that it was for the best that I should learn how he was before I made a fool of myself. Thinking of him was painful so I tried to think of Drake.

Grand’mere, as she often did, seemed to read my thoughts.

“When this is all over,” she said, adding firmly: “as it will be … Drake will be free. In time …”

“I don’t want to think of that, Grand’mere,”

“When the present is hard to bear it is well to look ahead. Trouble doesn’t last forever. This time next year … He is a good man, Lenore, and good men are scarce. He loves you. I know he does. He was rash. He should have spoken about his suspicions of your father. It was foolish of him but we all do foolish things at times. Mon Dieu, poor man, he has paid for his folly. But the days will come when he is free … and then …”

“Grand’mere, please don’t talk of it. I could not marry Drake.”

“That’s nonsense, child. He loves you. He would be the best of husbands. You have suffered a great deal. Philip was good … you could have been so happy with him. You must think no more of the Comte. He is no good to you and no good to any woman.”

“I am not sure of anything, Grand’mere.”

“Of course you are not. This is too close. But when it is over, Drake will be waiting … and this will seem like a nightmare.”

I did not answer. It was no use trying to explain my feelings to Grand’mere. I was not even sure of them myself.

Then the miracle happened.

“New developments in the Aldringham case,” said the headlines. “The police are anxious to meet a woman who visited the house on several occasions. They believe she could help them with their enquiries.”

Two weeks passed, during which there was no mention of the case.

I was not now troubled by callers who wanted me to answer questions. It almost seemed as though the case had been set aside.

Then came that wonderful day when the Comte returned to London. He came to the salon and said he wished to see me … alone.

He managed to evade Grand’mere and when I heard that he was waiting in the reception room I wanted to refuse to see him. How dared he return casually like this after he had left so abruptly! Grand’mere was right. I should not see him. But of course I went down.

There he was suave as ever, smiling, taking my hand, kissing it in the courtly way which I had always found so enchanting.

I said: “So you are back in London?”

”It would appear so,” he said, his eyes mocking—just as they always had during our meetings in France; no one would have thought that I was a woman with a possible charge of murder hanging over me.

“I trust you have had a good stay in France.”

”Most profitable.”

“And you were successful in your search for Madalenna de’ Pucci?”

“Very successful. I could not have guessed how pleasing it would be.”

”Congratulations.”

“Enough,” he said. “I have something to tell you which will be of great interest to you.”

“Regarding you and this lady?”

“Indeed it concerns her. …”

I thought: Oh no. He is just being cruel. He knows my feelings. I have betrayed them. He knows a great deal about women. He just wants to torment me. Charles first… now him.

“It also concerns you … deeply,” he went on. “Shall we be serious? This is a very serious matter.”

“About you and Madalenna de’ Pucci. I don’t…”

“It concerns you, too. Come, sit down, so that I can see you. I have been working hard on your behalf. It saddened me to see you as you were … and as you are now. So I determined to make you as you were before. So I went to work. First let us take the beautiful Italian. I told you I had met her before.”