Rachel

Lindsay - Mask of Gold

"Piotr must have a mother". — Carolyn Clarke, already devoted to the little half-
Polish boy, found it impossible to resist the plea from a dying man. And so she
became a stepmother, married a few hours before his death to a man she scarcely
knew, and burdened with responsibilities of which she had never dreamed. For,
taking Piotr to England to meet his relatives for the first time, Carolyn found a
situation very different from what she had been led to expect.

When she learned the terms of Piotr's aunt's will, she realised how suspect her
motives must have appeared to the family — but even this did not account for
the strange and hurtful attitude of Alvin Thyssen, a man Carolyn might dislike
but could never ignore.
CHAPTER ONE
The Bellingwood Orphanage was set back from the road and separated from
neighbouring properties by a wide expanse of lawn. It was a large, four-storeyed
house, with long, rambling corridors and countless stairs.

'Too many dam stairs,' Carolyn Clarke muttered as she breasted the last flight
and pushed open the door of the nursery. 'I'm here, Dora. You can go off now.'

A woman in a white dress got to her feet. 'About time I My head's splitting from
the noise.'

'Sorry,' Carolyn said contritely, 'but I had to put Jimmy to bed. He threw his tea
on the floor.' She looked at the group of toddlers playing in the centre of the
room. 'They seem quiet enough.'

'Only because they've exhausted themselves! I'll go and grab a cup of coffee.'

Left alone with the children, Carolyn sat down on the floor and began to show a
small girl how to make a castle of bricks. There was something similar about the
two faces: the wide, untroubled brows, the faint, fly-away eyebrows above
unusually deep green eyes and the short, straight noses. Even the hair was the
same pinkish gold, brushed smooth from the forehead to fall in soft waves to
their shoulders.

The little girl knocked over the pile of bricks and gurgled.

'Very clever,' Carolyn said. 'Now build it up on your own.'

'Can't.'

'Of course you can.'

'No!' The small mouth opened and a loud scream pierced the air.

'Nurse!'

Carolyn glanced up and saw Miss Williams in the doorway with a man and a
child.
'Nurse, do you think you could stop the noise for a moment?'

'Only by bribery! You know what Jennifer is, once she gets going.'

Carolyn bent down, took a piece of chocolate from the pocket of her white
starched dress and popped it into the open mouth. There was a gulp and
immediately the crying stopped.

Carolyn straightened. 'There! It's easy when you know how.'

'I'll pretend I didn't see.' Miss Williams came further into the room. 'Mr. Kolsky
is leaving his son with us and wanted to see around the orphanage.'

'I appreciate it is a bother,' the man said in a heavily accented voice, 'but where I
come from orphanages were not places of charm such as this. In Poland, children
were considered unfortunate who had to go to one.'

'Children who live in an orphanage are still considered unfortunate,' Miss

Williams said quietly. 'We try our best, but we can never capture the real
atmosphere of a home. That's not to say Piotr won't be happy here—I'm sure he
will—but having you visit him every week-end will make all the difference.'

'That is so.' The man looked down at his son. 'Every Saturday and Sunday, eh,
Piotrus?'

'I want to stay with you all the time. I don't like it here.' The little boy's eyes
glistened and he pressed his face against his father's leg. 'Let me stay with you,
Papa, please?'

Miss Willams moved to the far corner of the room and beckoned Carolyn to join
her. 'I warned Mr. Kolsky there'd be tears,' she said. 'The boy is devoted to him. I
think you'd better be extra attentive to him for the next few days.'

Carolyn glanced over at the man and boy silhouetted against the window. 'What
happened to the mother?'

'She's dead: I gather Mr. Kolsky's been trying to look after the child on his own
for the past six months, but the last landlady fancied herself as Mrs. Kolsky the
second so he had to leave rather abruptly. That was two months ago. Since then
he's been in an hotel, but there's no one to look after the child during the day.'
'Hasn't he any family?'

'Not from what he said. He emigrated here a couple of years ago. Anyway, he's
decided to leave his son here. He'll be among children of his own age and he'll
soon settle down.' She touched Carolyn's arm. 'See if you can get him to go with
you. I'd like to avoid a scene if possible.'

'A few tears won't hurt him.'

'I know. But it's the father I'm thinking of!'

Carolyn moved back across and held out her hand to the child. 'Hello, Piotr! You
see I know your name. Would you like to know mine?'

'No.'

'Now, Piotrus,' his father said, 'that's rude.'

'I'm called Nurse Carolyn,' Carolyn said quickly. 'Can you say that? Or is it too
hard for you?'

'Of course I can say it. Nurse Carol—Nurse Carol.' He screwed up his face and
laughed. 'I don't know it. I'll call you Caro.'

'That's an even nicer name.' Carolyn held out her hand. 'Do you see that little girl
sitting over there on the floor? Well it's time for her bath and she usually makes a
fuss when I put her in the water. Do you think you'd like to come and help me?
We've a lovely boat to sail in the bath tub.'

'Is it a big one?'

'It sure is. With real sails too! Coming, Piotr?'

The boy looked at his father. 'You're not going away, are you, Papa?'

The man hesitated and Carolyn said quietly: "Your papa has to go home and
work, but he'll come and see you soon.'

'Will you, Papa?'

'Of course.'
'Tomorrow?'

'I am not sure about tomorrow, but assuredly the day after.' He bent and kissed
his son. 'Be good, Piotrus.'

Before the child had a chance to answer Carolyn scooped up Jennifer and left the
nursery with Piotr in tow. Surrounded by other children he had no time to miss
his father, and he submitted to being bathed, fed and tucked up in bed in the
small dormitory with five other children. It was only as the centre light was
turned off that his eyes filled with tears. But this moment too was quickly over,
for Carolyn slipped a brown fur dog into his bed and kissed the top of his head.

'Cuddle Tiki,' she whispered, 'he's lonely too!' Kissing the top of the dark head,
she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

For a moment she rested against the wall and listened: but all was quiet. She
pushed back a damp tendril of hair and went into the bathroom to swab the floor,
then downstairs to the laundry-room and the hum of two washing machines as
small socks, handkerchiefs and dresses spiralled in the churning water. Finally,
with the washing on the line, she popped in for a last look at her charges, tucked
in the disarranged bedclothes and then made her way along the corridor to her
own bedroom.

This was the time of day she liked best; when the rush of the past few hours
were over and all that lay ahead was a meal and a quiet evening. She slipped out
of her uniform and curled up on the bed to smoke a cigarette.

For as long as she could remember the orphanage had been her home and Miss
Williams, the warden, the only mother she had known. Carolyn barely
remembered her parents who had been killed in a plane crash and only vaguely
recollected a disapproving uncle who had deposited her at the Bellingwood
Orphanage. Together with girls of her own age she had attended day school, and
not till she was sixteen had she learned that her uncle had died and left her
enough money to go to college.

'I'd like to take up children's nursing,' she had told Miss Willams. 'Then, when
I'm qualified, I can come back here.'

'Once you're a trained nurse you can get a job anywhere. And certainly a better
salary than we could give you.'
Carolyn's long blonde hair had swung in protest. 'The whole idea of qualifying is
so that I can come back. This is my home.'

'No one stays home for ever. It would be better for you to work in a hospital.
You'll have a better chance of getting married and making a home of your own.'

'Right now I'm not interested. Wait until I've trained.'

'You'll change your mind by then.'

'And if I haven't?'

'Then you can come and work here.'

Two years later Carolyn had kept Miss Williams to her word and, straight from
the General Hospital in Toronto, had returned to the orphanage. The pay was
lower and the opportunities for meeting people far less, but to Carolyn the work
was infinitely more satisfying, and she had never regretted her decision. It was
satisfying to work with children, particularly those who were alone in the world.
She thought of the long waiting list of people who wanted to adopt a family and
wondered how it was that orphanages were still full. 'And understaffed,' she
mused tenderly, rubbing one ankle. She stood up, put on a fresh white dress and
low-heeled shoes and went down to the dining- room.

The following afternoon she was playing on the lawn with a group of five-year-
olds when a small car swung into the drive and with a loud yell of 'Papa!', Piotr
rushed across to greet the man stepping out. The other children stared longingly
as the child was caught in a hug and then, hand in hand, the two walked back to
the group on the lawn.

Carolyn smiled. 'I wasn't sure you'd be coming today, so I didn't say anything to
him.'

'I couldn't get here quickly enough. How has he been?'

'Very good. He's a credit to you.'

'To my wife,' the man said quietly.

Piotr started playing with the other children again and the man looked at
Carolyn.

'I was going to take him out, but perhaps it would be wiser if he stays with his
friends?'

Carolyn nodded. 'Perhaps next time you come..

He smiled. 'Would you mind if I sat beside you?' 'Not at all.'

He did so and took out a packet of cigarettes. "Will you have one?'

'I'm not allowed to smoke on duty.'

'I'm sorry.' He lit one for himself. 'It's very pleasant here. Already Piotr is
looking better. More like he used to when my…he hesitated. 'Miss Williams has
told you, perhaps?'

'Yes. It must have been a great shock.'

'It was. Alive one minute and then—nothing.'

'How did it happen?'

'In childbirth. It was a little girl. They both died.'

He closed his eyes, and the loss of shiny brown emphasised the dark skin and the
high, Slavonic cheekbones.

'But you've still got Piotr,' she said softly.

'Yes, I've still got Piotr.' With difficulty he continued: 'We were so happy,
Rosemary and I. She was always full of high spirits and bubbling with joy.'

'Does Piotr look like her?'

'They had the same colouring.' He looked down at the grass as if in its green
surface he could see a reflection of the woman he had loved. 'She should never
have had a child. The doctors warned her, but she wouldn't listen. And neither
would I.'

'But she had Piotr,' Carolyn murmured. 'And having another child was as much
your wife's decision as yours.'

He sighed. The words sound good, but I cannot accept them.'

'You've got to accept them,' Carolyn reiterated. 'You can't go on living with guilt.'
He did not answer and she went on: 'Don't you have any friends with whom you
can talk?'

'No. Only the men I work with—and they are not my friends.'

'Did you come straight here from Poland?'

He shook his head. 'I lived in England for five years.'

'Was your wife Polish too?'

'English.' He turned and for a moment watched his son playing with another boy.
'It is good to be with children, yes?'

'Yes,' she answered. 'Very good.'

He turned to look at her. 'May I come back in a few days and see my son again?'

'Of course. Come whenever you're free.'

'That is not possible. My work is too far from the city.'

'What do you do?'

'I'm a scientist with Imperial Chemicals.'

'That sounds very impressive,' she grinned. 'What are you working on—another
hydrogen bomb?' 'That is not a subject to joke about.' His tone was so emphatic
that she was startled. 'I work to save life, not to take it.' He stood up and dusted
some grass from his suit. 'The day after tomorrow I will come again. You will be
here, please?'

'I'm afraid not. It's my day off.'

'Then I will see you next week.'

From then on, Peter Kolsky called to see his son every weekend, and soon all the
children looked forward to his arrival and the large box of chocolates which he
never forgot to bring with him.

'Children are such greedy little pigs,' Carolyn remarked to him one Sunday
afternoon towards the end of June. 'They just he in wait for you like locusts!'

'Do you blame them?' Without pausing for her to answer, he went on: 'In Poland,
when I was a child, there were always picnics and parties, and every week-end I
was taken to a concert and then out for tea.'

'Do you come from Warsaw?'

'Not all Polish people come from Warsaw, Nurse Carolyn!'

She laughed. 'I asked for that one. But it's the only Polish city I can pronounce
properly!'

'Then I am lucky my name is not difficult.'

'Peter's an English name,' she said and stopped, embarrassed. 'I do think of you
as Peter,' she confessed. 'Mr. Kolsky's a bit of a mouthful.'

'And I think of you as Carolyn.' He half smiled. 'You are off duty again
tomorrow, aren't you?'

'How do you know?'

'One need not be a mathematical genius to work it out!' He moved a step closer.
'You are perhaps going out with someone else?

'No.'

'Then you will come out with me, perhaps?'

'Not perhaps,' she grinned. 'The word is yes!'

The following evening Carolyn walked through the revolving doors of the Royal
York Hotel and was half way up the steps to the lounge when Peter came down.
He stopped and stared at her.
'You look so different out of uniform, Carolyn. You are much taller than I
remembered.'

'I'm wearing high heels.'

'That explains it.' He put his hand on her elbow and led her into the lounge. 'I
thought we would have dinner here. It is quiet and we can talk.'

They dined at a corner table in the large dining-room, with the music of a string
orchestra as soft background to their conversation. It was unusually satisfying to
watch the well-dressed people around her, and dinner—eaten with soft carpets
underfoot and a brilliant mosaic ceiling overhead—was infinitely tastier than in
the plain, white-walled room at Bellingwood.

'I've only been here twice in my life,' she confessed. 'Once when I took myself
out for my twenty-first birthday and now with you.'

'But that is impossible! A girl like you should have many friends.' She shook her
head and he stared in disbelief. 'One particular boy-friend, then?'

'Not even that.' She was amused by his surprise. 'The only men I see are under
seven!'

'In my country, a girl of your age would be married.'

'I'm only twenty-three.'

'Rosemary was twenty when we eloped.'

'You eloped? How romantic.'

'It is not romantic for a girl to marry without her family being present.' A roll
disintegrated into crumbs beneath his hand. 'As a friend of her brother I was
acceptable, but as a son- in-law—never!'

'Why not?'

'Because I was a foreigner and poor.'

'What happened after you married? Did the family forgive you then?'
'They were not the kind to forgive. There was an old aunt, though; she was not
so much against me as the others—they would never talk to me again.'

'Is that why you and your wife came to Canada?'

"Yes. I was offered a job in Vancouver and afterwards I got a better one here.
Everything was going so well, I was afraid it would not last.' He stopped for a
moment and then said: 'And I was right. In a few months it was all over.
Rosemary was dead and I had nothing. Nothing!'

'You still had your son.'

'A son needs a mother!'

'What about your own family?' she asked quickly.

They were killed during the war.'

'In Poland?'

His smile was not pleasant. 'In England. In a small village near Chichester where
they had gone to be safe while my father was away fighting. Two days after my
mother learned he had been killed, the Germans bombed the Tyssen Chemical
Works on the other side of Chichester. It was too well protected for them to get
anywhere near it, so they jettisoned everything on the village where we lived.'

She tried to find the right words to say, but words seemed inadequate, and she
listened in silence as he continued to speak.

'Half the village was wiped out,' he said huskily, 'including my mother and my
sister. From then on I spent my childhood moving from one family to another,
but never belonging anywhere. Old man Tyssen made sure all the orphans were
taken care of financially, and as far as he was concerned, that was the end of it.'

'There wasn't anything else he could do,' Carolyn expostulated. 'After all, you
can't blame him for what happened.'

'I blame him completely. If it hadn't been for his factory, a hundred people would
be alive today.'
'You could say that about any chemical or armaments factory in England during
the war,' she said quickly. 'There was a job to do and they did it.'

'Factories like Tyssens should have been placed miles from where people lived.'

'You can't rim a factory with robots. You're not being logical about it.'

'One cannot be logical over love,' he replied. 'And I lost my family because of
Tyssen. I grew up hating him. As a child, I used to dream of killing him with my
own bare hands.'

Involuntarily she looked down at them and saw they were clenched so tightly
together that the knuckles stood out white.

'I was seventeen when old Tyssen died,' he continued. 'That's when the son took
over.'

'Don't tell me you transferred your hatred to him!'

'You may joke about it,' came the quiet reply, 'but that is because you've never
been affected by war.'

'I was an orphan, though,' Carolyn answered. 'So I know what it's like to be
without parents.'

'You don't know what it's like to know that one person is to blame for it.'

'I'm glad I don't. A hatred like that can destroy you.' In an effort to change the
subject she reverted to Piotr. 'You've got to think of your son. You mustn't let
your bitterness seep into him.'

'I try to be careful,' he answered, 'but it's no use.'

'It might be easier if you married again… if you had another family.'

'No one can replace Rosemary.' He saw the look of pity on Carolyn's face and his
eyebrow quirked. 'Don't look so depressed. It's the Polish in me that likes to be
melancholy!'

'It must be catching,' she said, trying to smile. 'At the moment I feel ready to
burst into tears.'

'Forgive me.' He touched her hand. 'I won't talk about it any more. Now eat your
meal and don't be sad.'

When Carolyn returned to the orphanage that night she wondered whether it was
wise to see Peter again: a diet of melancholy was hardly what she would have
prescribed for an evening's entertainment. But when he next asked to see her she
didn't have the heart to refuse, and though she met him without any anticipation,
she was agreeably surprised to find he did not refer to the past whatsoever, but
set out entirely to amuse her, displaying a charm as delightful as it was
unexpected.

From then on she saw him regularly and, accustomed to the more boisterous
behaviour of Canadian men, she found his gentleness an added attraction.

The months of spring merged into the summer, and one evening as she let herself
into the orphanage, the door of the day nursery opened and Miss Willams came
out

'You're home early, Carolyn.'

'Peter has a long drive back.'

'Aren't you seeing rather a lot of him?'

'I like him.'

'I know you do,' Miss Willams replied, and stepped further into the hall. 'If
you're not too tired, how about having some coffee with me?'

Carolyn nodded, and together they walked up the stairs to the Warden's sitting-
room.

Sipping coffee and smoking, the minutes ticked by. It was a hot, sultry night and
no air stirred the curtains that marked the wide open windows.

'Well,' Carolyn said suddenly, 'tell me what's on your mind. I know the signs of
an approaching lecture!'
'You should do,' Miss Williams smiled, 'you used to be on the receiving end
often enough!'

'It's about Peter, isn't it?'

'Yes. I don't know how you feel about him, but I think I know how he feels about
you.'

'So do I.'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course! I'm not repulsive to look at and he finds me an amusing companion.
But best of all, I'm a sympathetic listener and that's all he needs.'

'Is that what you need?'

'For the moment, yes. I go out with him because he's kind and doesn't make
passes at me!'

"That's what I don't like about the whole thing,' Miss Williams said tardy. 'You're
twenty-three and you're a beautiful girl. You should be married with children of
your own, not wasting your time here.'

'You've wasted your time,' Carolyn reminded her gently.

'I'm different. I never had the opportunity of turning down a proposal!' Miss
Williams' voice held no bitterness. 'But I'd like something better for you.'

'I'm happy as I am.'

'The happiness of ignorance!' the Warden said sharply. 'You should go out with
other men and give yourself a chance to fall in love. At the moment you're
running away from the future.'

Lying in bed that night Carolyn conceded the validity of all Miss Williams had
said. She was running away from life; and it was time she stopped and thought
about her future. But thought of the future brought with it the thought of
children, and instantly Piotr came into her mind. How much he had come to
mean to her in the six months she had taken care of him.
Was it because he was so like his father that she loved him, or was it her love for
Piotr that made her like his father? It was an impossible question to answer, but
she knew that one day an answer would have to be found.

In the middle of the week Peter telephoned to suggest taking Piotr and a couple
of other children to Niagara Falls. It would be a long drive but well worth while,
and on the Saturday morning she helped the cook prepare sandwiches and pack a
trifle into a cardboard carton.

'You must be crazy, taking the children out on your day off,' Cook said tardy.
'Don't you ever long for a chance of getting away from them?'

'No,' Carolyn grinned. 'I like being a martyr!' Putting the picnic hamper into the
larder where it was cool, she went upstairs to supervise the serving of breakfast.
The dining-room was abuzz with noise, the floor scattered with crumbs and an
overturned mug of milk.

Piotr and the three children who were going with them were already standing by
the door waiting for her, anxious not to miss a moment of the day ahead.

'There's at least an hour to wait before we'll be ready to go,' she explained.
'You've got plenty of time to go upstairs and give yourselves a wash.'

'We'll get dirty again,' Piotr said logically.

'I know. But I'd like you to start out clean.' Carolyn looked at them sternly and
then grinned. 'Go upstairs and do as I say— and quick about it!'

The children raced from the room and Carolyn returned to her own room to
make herself ready.

The downstairs clock was chiming ten as they all stood on the front steps, the
picnic hamper at their feet. The sky was already an intense blue and a bright sun
blazed down at them, distorting the air around them into a shimmering haze.

'How soon will Papa be here?' Piotr asked.

'Any time now.'

A few minutes went by.

'I'm hot,' Jonathan said. 'When are we going?'

'As soon as Piotr's daddy gets here.'

'What time is it?' Piotr asked.

'Twenty past ten. Your daddy's late.'

'I'll tell him off.'

'You do that.'

At a quarter to eleven Carolyn and the children were still waiting when a nurse
popped out to look at her.

'You've been jilted!' she grinned. 'You might as well face it.'

'Shut up,' Carolyn said crossly. 'I'm boiling mad and boiling hot.'

'I'm not surprised.'

The nurse disappeared and Carolyn tapped her foot impatiently. Even if Peter
had had a puncture he could surely have telephoned to let her know. 'I'll give him
another ten minutes,' she thought, 'then I'll take the children out somewhere
myself.'

The front door opened and she half turned and saw Miss Williams, her face
ashen.

'Send the children into the nursery, Carolyn. I want to talk to you.'

The tone of her voice made Carolyn obey instantly, and as she came out of the
nursery she was not surprised to see the Warden still in the hall.

'What's wrong, Miss Williams?'

'Mr. Kolsky's had an accident.'

'How bad?'

There was a slight pause. 'Very bad.'

The hall revolved alarmingly and Carolyn drew a deep breath. 'I must go to him.
Where is he?'

'In the Toronto General. I've already ordered a taxi for you.' Miss Williams
touched her arm. 'Go down the drive to meet it, my dear. I don't think he—I don't
think there's much time.'
CHAPTER TWO
The patients in the Casualty Ward were eating lunch as Carolyn followed a nurse
down the aisle between the beds to the far end of the room. A small corner was
screened off and instinctively she knew Peter lay behind it.

Although the nurse had warned her that Peter was dying, she was not prepared
for the waxen image that lay on the bed before her as she stepped past the
screen.

'Peter..Although she mouthed the word silently, he sensed her presence and
opened his eyes.

'Sorry—about the trip… accident.’

'Don't worry about it,' she whispered. 'We'll go another time.'

'No more time… finished… take care… Piotrus.'

The nurse stepped forward. 'Try not to talk too much, Mr. Kolsky.'

'Must talk,' he gasped. 'No time… must…'

He drew a shuddering breath and the nurse glanced at Carolyn. 'I'll give him an
injection,' she said quietly. 'If you'd like to wait outside..

Carolyn stepped behind the screen again and almost knocked against a man
standing beside it. She looked up into a lined yet youthful face and instantly
guessed that it was Leonard Wrightman, the man with whom Peter worked.

'I'm Carolyn Clarke,' she said, introducing herself.

'I know. Peter told me so much about you I feel we've already met.'

'Do you know how the accident happened?'

He shook his head. 'He was working on his own in the laboratory. No one can
figure out what went wrong. That's why I'm here—to see if he can tell me.'
The nurse appeared and Carolyn looked at the man beside her.

'I must go back to Peter. If you want to talk to him you'd better do it now. I don't
think there's much time.'

Together they approached the bed and Peter—his eyes fully open now—half
smiled at them both. 'Always wanted you two to meet,' he whispered. 'Never
thought… would be like this.'

'When you're better, we'll have a real night out together,' Leonard Wrightman
said.

'No!' The word had a strength that made any further lies unnecessary.
'Finished… no use pretending.'

Carolyn kneeled by the bed and Peter turned his head and looked at her. 'Help
me, Caro. Piotr needs you… you're the only one left.'

'I'll always take care of him. You know that.'

'Yes.' The brown eyes closed momentarily and when they opened again they
were brilliant with unshed tears. 'Piotr will get money… insurance… accident.'

'He won't need money,' Carolyn said quickly. 'He'll be taken care of at
Bellingwood.'

'Must have someone of his own.' He muttered in Polish and then started speaking
in English again. 'Piotr needs someone to call Mama… you, Carolyn… you.'

Not sure what he was trying to say, yet certain she must give him comfort, she
bent closer. 'I'll take care of Piotr all my life,' she said clearly. 'Do you hear me
Peter? All my life.'

'Marry me.' She stared at him blankly and he repeated the words. 'Marry me.
Money from insurance… make Piotr a home. You will be his legal guardian…
loves you.'

Once again he lapsed into Polish and over the top of his head she looked at
Leonard Wrightman. He stared back at her without expression and she knew that
the answer Peter was waiting for could come only from herself. She glanced at
the figure on the bed—even now it was difficult to think of him as Peter, for it
was the body of a dying man—and knew that if marrying him was the only way
to give him peace of mind, she had no choice but to do as he asked.

'Very well,' she said softly, 'I'll marry you.'

The afternoon sun was slanting through the narrow window behind her when she
finally became Peter's wife, and only as his gold signet ring was placed on her
finger did she feel she was awakening from a dream.

'You've nothing to worry about any more,' she said to him softly. 'I'm your wife
and Piotr is my son.'

'It's what I wanted,' he said, and half sat up. 'Caro… little mother…'

With a gasp he fell back and the nurse and doctor hurried forward. Slowly
Carolyn stood up and watched the nurse draw the sheet over the bandaged face.
For her, it was the end of one responsibility and the beginning of another.

It was still daylight when she and Leonard Wrightman left the hospital, and he
led her to a pale blue Chrysler parked by the roadside. 'I'll take you back home,'
he said. 'You look all in.'

'I feel it,' she replied, and said no more until the outline of the orphanage came
into view. 'I suppose you think it was sentimental of me to marry Peter?'

'You didn't have much choice.'

'I hope Miss Williams thinks so.'

'Who's she?'

The Warden in charge of Bellingwood.'

'Where you work?'

'It's my home too. I was brought up there.'

He drew the car to a stop in the drive. 'If there's anything I can ever do for you,'
he said as he helped her out, 'just let me know.'
She smiled her thanks and went up the steps to the house. The lower rooms were
empty, but from upstairs came the noise of splashing water and shrieks of
laughter. It was good to hear such normal, everyday sounds, and as she went
along to Miss Williams' room she felt the tension relax within her.

Miss Williams was seated at her desk, but at Carolyn's entrance she stood up and
came round the side. 'I've just spoken to the hospital,' she said. 'They told me
what happened.' She looked at the gold ring on Carolyn's hand. 'You always
were a sentimentalist—even as a child.'

'I didn't marry Peter out of sentiment,' Carolyn protested. 'I had no choice.
Anyway, where's the harm?'

'At the moment I can't see any. Piotr will have enough money from his father's
insurance, and he'll also have you.'

'Well then…'

Miss Williams sighed. 'I wish it were well, but I've a peculiar feeling in my
bones that it isn't.'

During the following week the Directors of the orphanage agreed to let Piotr stay
on, even though Carolyn was legally his guardian.

'It wasn't a very difficult decision for them to reach,' Miss Williams said dryly,
'particularly as you offered to pay for the boy's keep.'

'I don't see how I could do otherwise. Bellingwood isn't a charity institution.'

Miss Williams conceded the remark bleakly. "You'd think it was, from the
cheese-paring way they expect me to run it. If the money you get from Imperial
Chemicals is as much as Peter hoped, you'd be crazy to stay on here. Send Piotr
to boarding school and then take a long holiday and enjoy yourself.'

'The whole purpose of my marrying Peter was to give Piotr a mother,' Carolyn
replied. 'And what sort of mother would I be if I traipsed off and left him?'

'You're not his mother,' Miss Williams reminded her. 'And I can't stand by while
you sacrifice the rest of your life to a ridiculous ideal.'
Carolyn laughed. 'If you meant half the things you said—- '

'The trouble is I don't—and the bigger trouble is you know it! Even so Carolyn,
once you get the money, you and Piotr should go off somewhere for a holiday.
You've lost weight lately and a rest would do you good.'

Carolyn remembered the words the next day when Eric J. Barton, Chairman of
Imperial Chemicals, called unexpectedly to see her.

'I had no idea you were a nurse, Mrs. Kolsky,' he said by way of greeting.

'I met Peter here,' she explained. 'He put his son into Bellingwood when his wife
—his first wife—died.' She led him across the hall to the nursery. 'Forgive me
for bringing you in here, but at the moment it's the only place free of children.'

'That's all right.' He pushed aside a group of toys and sat down. 'It's very painful
for me to have to come and see you like this, Mrs. Kolsky. Your husband was a
brilliant man. Erratic but brilliant. He would have gone much further if he had
allowed himself to be controlled.'

'I don't think there's any point discussing his behaviour now.'

'I'm not talking without good reason.' The man stood up and took a stance in
front of the fireplace: sure masculine sign of portentousness. 'Facts are facts,
Mrs. Kolsky, and it was because your husband was uncontrollable that he died.'

'I don't understand you.'

'It's quite simple. The accident could have been avoided if Kolsky had used any
sense.'

'What do you mean?'

'For the last three months we've been carrying out experiments in which Kolsky
—your husband—was interested. We gave him the opportunity to work on the
project, but because of some cranky pacifist ideas, he turned it down. Instead, he
began experimenting on his own—even though we warned him of the danger.'

Carolyn moistened lips that were suddenly dry. 'Could you come to the point?'
Mr. Barton hesitated and then said in a rush: 'My Company is not legally
responsible for your husband's death. When he was injured he was working in
his free time and merely utilising our materials. We have a letter from him to that
effect.'

It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did, her change of
colour was so startling that the man stepped forward. 'I'm sorry to have been so
blunt about it, but there was no other way.' He patted her shoulder. 'Although we
have no legal responsibility, my Board have agreed to give you a monetary gift
as an expression of our deep regret for the whole matter.' From his pocket he
withdrew an envelope. 'Under the circumstances, I think you'll find we've been
more than generous.'

Opening the envelope and looking at a cheque for three thousand dollars,
Carolyn found it difficult to agree, and though she did not say so in words, her
look was sufficiently expressive for Mr. Barton to redden.

'I did the best I could,' he said briefly. 'But I'm not my own boss. I'm responsible
to a Board.'

'And you're responsible for Piotr,' Miss Williams said some half hour later when
Carolyn placed the cheque in front of her and told her what had happened.
'Piotr's only six! This money won't keep him in clothes—let alone educate and
feed him.'

'I've no intention of using this money.' Carolyn pocketed the cheque. 'I'll put it in
the bank until Piotr's old enough to decide what he wants to do with it.'

'And who's going to pay for him to stay here? If Peter had died without marrying
you, I could probably have wangled it. But now you're the boy's legal guardian
—————— '

‘You can't blame Peter,' Carolyn said quickly. 'He thought he was leaving me a
fortune.'

'Well, he hasn't,' Miss Williams said grimly. 'All he's left you is a load of
responsibility. You'll have to put Piotr into a state home.'

'No!'
"There're as well run as this.'

'I still won't do it. He's going to stay here with me regardless of what it costs.'

'What will happen if you should want to get married? No man will support a
child that's not his—and not yours either.'

'Then I've got a good excuse for remaining single!'

Realising that argument was getting her nowhere, Miss Williams sighed and
Carolyn was at the door before she called her back. 'You haven't told Piotr about
his father as yet, have you?'

'No. I only said he'd gone away on business. I thought if I waited a month it
might give Piotr more of a chance to forget him.'

But several months went by before Carolyn plucked up the courage to tell Piotr
he would never see his father again, and when she did, she was amazed at his
reaction.

'You mean I'm an orphan?'

'I'm afraid so, darling.'

Piotr dropped the engine he was holding and darted across the room. 'I'm an
orphan,' he shouted happily. 'An orphan, an orphan!'

But later that night, going past his room to her own, she heard him crying and
went in to comfort him.

'I want my papa.' The little boy's tears were warm against her neck. 'Why won't
he come back?'

'Because he's gone to heaven, darling.'

'But I want to talk Polish with him.'

'You can talk it with me.'

'You don't know how.' The tears fell faster.

'Then you must teach me.'

'I can't. Oh, Caro, I don't want to be an orphan!'

'You're not, darling.' She bent closer. 'Would you like to hear a secret?'

'What is it?'

'Well, you're really my little boy. You belong to me, and no one is an orphan if
they belong to someone else.'

Piotr considered this. 'Are you my mother?'

'Not your mother, honey, a kind of aunt.' She helped him snuggle under the
clothes. 'But you mustn't tell anyone else. Promise?'

'Yes.' He gave her a final hug. 'I won't tell anyone. If I did, they'd want you to be
their aunt as well—and you're only mine!'

As the days passed, reference to his father slowly disappeared from Piotr's
conversation, and by Christmas he was never mentioned at all. It was only when
he became older, Carolyn knew, that the child would realise his loss and strive to
bring back every single memory of the dark-browed man he had loved.

It was this realisation that prompted her to telephone Leonard Wrightman.

'It's Peter's belongings,' she explained. 'I'd like to have them for Piotr.'

He gave an exclamation. 'What a fool I was not to think of it myself. Would you
like me to take you to his rooms?'

'If it isn't a bother.'

'It'll be a pleasure to see you again,' he answered. 'Just tell me when you're free.'

Her second meeting with Leonard Wrightman brought Peter so vividly to mind
that depression made it difficult for her to talk, and sensing the reason for her
silence, the young Canadian made no effort at conversation as they left
Bellingwood and drove through the suburbs of the city.

It was not until Carolyn herself began to speak that he told her how disturbed he
was that Imperial Chemicals had not considered themselves responsible for
Peter's death.

'I was so furious when I first heard it that I went to see the Chairman. But he said
there was nothing he could do.'

'He told me the same thing,' she replied.

'How will you manage? You can't take on the responsibility of a child. You
weren't even in love with Peter!'

'That's got nothing to do with it. I promised to look after Piotr, and I will.'

'You must be some throwback to a Puritan English ancestor,' Leonard said

ruefully.

'My grandparents were English,' she conceded, 'but I was born here. There must
be something in inheritance though.'

He grinned. 'I'm a prairie boy myself. And chemistry's a far cry from sowing
wheat!'

He offered her a cigarette, but she shook her head. 'Did you know Peter long?'
she asked.

'Only since he came from Vancouver. He had a wonderful job out there, but he
gave it up when the Company amalgamated with Tyssen's.'

'Tyssen's,' she echoed. 'The English chemical firm?'

'English, European, Canadian,' he shrugged. 'You name it— they own itl What I
could never understand was why Peter had such a fixation against them.'

'His mother and sister were killed in an air raid during the war when the
Germans were trying to destroy one of the Tyssen plants.'

'So that's the reason!'

As he spoke, Leonard stopped the car and Carolyn looked through the window at
a narrow, tree-lined road, the clapboard houses shiny new, the gardens still
uncultivated.

'This is where Peter lived,' he explained, and led the way up a narrow path to a
green front door.

A woman opened it so quickly that Carolyn guessed she had been peeping at
them from behind the front window curtains.

'You got here earlier than I thought,' she greeted them. 'You'll have to excuse the
mess. I'm trying to fix the living- room curtains. Bobby rode into them with his
tricycle and pulled them down over his head!' She pointed to a portrait on the
mantelpiece. 'That's him—five next birthday and driving me crazy!' She
smoothed a cotton dress down over her hips. 'Anyone care for a drink?' I'm
making one myself.'

'I'd like a Coke,' Carolyn said.

'Same here,' Leonard agreed.

'C'mon into the kitchen. It's the coolest place in the house.'

They walked into the brightly papered kitchen and Carolyn looked admiringly at
the huge refrigerator, dish-washer and washing machine.

'I've a deep-freeze out back too,' the woman said proudly. 'That's how I spent the
rent money I got from your husband.' She poured the Cokes. 'I was terribly sorry
to hear about the way he died. He was a real gentleman.'

Carolyn picked up her glass and wished the hour ahead of her was already in the
past. 'I'd like to collect his things at once, if you don't mind.'

'I understand. I've left his room exactly as it was. My husband's been on the road
the past three months but as soon as he gets back he wants to clean it up. That's
why I'm glad you're taking everything away.'

With the iced drink in her hand Carolyn followed Mrs. Macfarrers up the stairs
to a small room overlooking the back garden.

'I'm sure you'd rather be on your own,' the woman said. 'C'mon down when
you're ready.'
Left alone, Carolyn set her glass on the dressing table and looked around her.
Everything was painfully new and cheap, from the narrow divan bed to the
white-wood dressing table and wardrobe. Hurriedly she opened the doors and
stared at the few suits, then determinedly keeping her mind a blank, she packed
them into the leather suitcase she found under the bed.

There were no personal photographs in the room and it was not until she started
to open the drawers and take out shirts and ties that she discovered a large colour
print of an elfin-faced girl with laughing dark eyes and thick, glossy hair. Gently
she placed the photograph between two pieces of tissue paper and put it on top
of the pile of linen; one day she would show it to Piotr.

She locked the case and dragged it across the room, turning at the door for a last
look around. It was only then that she noticed a small bureau half hidden by an
armchair. She went across and opened it. It was empty except for a metal box
and she lifted it out and tugged at the lid. It was firmly locked and she
rummaged her hand along the back of the drawer for the key. There was nothing
there, and she was just about to put the box in the suitcase when she remembered
the pile of oddments she had collected from the pockets of Peter's suits and had
bundled haphazardly into her handbag. A small key had been among it, and she
took it out and fitted it into the lock. It squeaked back and she lifted the lid. A
pile of letters lay before her, and she picked a few out at random and saw they
were all postmarked Terring, Sussex. The most recent one was dated eleven
months earlier and she smoothed the envelope flat and extracted a thick sheet of
notepaper.

'My dearest Rosemary,' it began.

'Today I have made my will. My time here is short and I want you to come back
quickly. I have always looked on you as my daughter rather than my niece,
which is why I am writing to you instead of your mother. She is quite well and
so is Jeffrey, but they are both too much under his influence to ask you to return.
But no one can tell me what to do—you know that very well. So come home
with your husband. I promise he will be accepted here, no matter what Jeffrey or
anyone else says. I am longing to see your son—I cannot bear to think he was
born in England, yet I never had the chance to see him!

'I am old, Rosemary, and want to see you before I die. I do not care a fig for any
of the others.'
There was a scrawl and then the words 'Aunt Agatha'. With a hand that shook,
Carolyn lifted out the other letters. They were all from the same woman, and the
last one had arrived a few weeks after Rosemary's death.

At the bottom of the box were some snapshots of a smiling middle-aged woman
and a young, dark-haired man with a weak chin. From the style of dress she
guessed the pictures to be recent ones, and wondered whether they had been sent
by the woman who signed herself Aunt Agatha. The last snap was of an
imposing mansion, so large that Carolyn wondered if it could be real. She turned
the photograph over and saw the words 'Royston Manor' written in the same
flowing hand.

So Piotr had a family after all! A great-aunt, a grandmother and an uncle. She
remembered one of her evenings with Peter when she had asked him about his
wife's family. 'They're dead,' he had said. 'All dead.'

She looked at the photographs again. Rosemary's family might have been dead
for Peter, but as far as Piotr was concerned they were very much alive.
CHAPTER THREE
The discovery of the letters made Carolyn realise that Peter had not wanted to
marry her only to give Piotr a mother, but also to ensure that Rosemary's family
would not be able to take control of him.

She could only guess at his animosity towards the family that had ostracised
him, but it was sufficient to make her hesitate to write to the unknown Aunt
Agatha and tell her not only of Rosemary's death, but also of Peter's and her own
guardianship of their son.

'It isn't fair not to tell them,' Miss Williams said. 'They appear to have plenty of
money, and they have a responsibility towards Piotr.' She picked up the
photograph of the house and glared at it. 'Any one who could afford the upkeep
of this could afford to look after a child.'

'Peter must have had good reason not to—— '

'I'm not prepared to judge whether his reasons were valid or not,' Miss Williams
interrupted. 'All I know is that he was a man of violent likes and dislikes—you
know that as well as I do.' Carolyn conceded the point. 'That's why you must
ignore what he said about them and think of them only from Piotr's point of
view.'

'That's what I intend doing. If writing to them will give him a happy home, that's
all I want.'

'How will you feel about living there?'

Carolyn's green eyes widened. 'Me?'

'You,' Miss Williams said dryly. 'You're Piotr's guardian and you're responsible
for him.' The woman looked at the picture of the house again. 'This place should
suit you, Carolyn.'

'I hadn't thought of it as my home.'

'Maybe not, but Piotr can't go there without you. Responsibility cuts both ways,
you know. You were prepared to take care of the child to the detriment of your
own happiness, and now that his family might be able to take care of you, I don't
intend letting you ignore them. You must write to them tonight —otherwise I
will!'

Knowing Miss Williams would be quite prepared to carry our her threat, Carolyn
wrote to Rosemary's aunt that night, and immediately started to count the days
till she could receive a reply. Two weeks passed without an answer, and it was
not until the end of the third week—when she had all but given up hope of
hearing—that one of the nurses came into the dining room waving a blue
envelope.

'It's the English letter you've been waiting for—the one that's going to turn you
into a duchess!'

Carolyn grinned. 'Right now I feel more like a dustbin.' She pocketed the letter
and, trying to look nonchalant, hurried out.

Not until she was alone in her room did she take the letter from her pocket and
open it. Immediately her eyes flew to the signature, but the name was that of
Helen Nichols and with a throb of disappointment she began to read:

'Your letter came as a great shock to us,' it began without preamble, 'since I had
no idea my daughter Rosemary had died or that her husband had remarried.
There is no question but that the boy must come here, and I suggest you
telegraph us when we can expect you.'

The letter fluttered to the ground and Carolyn retrieved it and sank down on the
bed. So much for the warmth Miss Williams had anticipated! 'It would have been
better if I hadn't written at all,' she thought, and instantly changed her mind. No
matter how aloof and cold Rosemary's mother sounded, once she saw her
grandson she would be certain to love him.

'The very least they could have done was send you your air tickets,' Miss
Williams said when Carolyn showed her the letter. 'You must write and ask
them.'

Carolyn shook her head so violently that her blonde hair swung forward. 'If they
haven't got the decency to offer, I've got too much pride to beg. We'll go by the
first available boat. It'll take weeks longer, but Mrs. Nichols won't have anyone
to blame but herself.'

The excitement of departure, with its flurry of packing and last-minute farewells,
left Carolyn with little opportunity to realise she was leaving her own home to
make a new one in a foreign country. Not until she was on the boat, watching the
shores of her homeland recede, did she become aware of the importance of what
she was doing and realise it might be years before she saw Miss Williams and
Bellingwood again. Sadness engulfed her and she blinked rapidly to hold back
the tears.

A small hand crept into hers and Piotr edged closer against her. 'Why are you
crying, Caro?' 'Because I'm sad at leaving my home.'

'I'm not sad.'

'You've no reason to be. You're going to live in a beautiful house with your
grandma, your uncle and Aunty Agatha.'

'Will you stay there too, Caro?'

The anxiety in the quesdon made her forget her own sadness and she leaned
down and kissed the pointed face. The pale skin was flushed with excitement,
and the dark eyes looked shinier and blacker than ever. 'I'll never leave you,' she
promised. 'Never.'

The journey across the Atlantic was uneventful, apart from one day of bad
weather that kept most of the passengers in their cabins. But Southampton Water
was calm as they glided slowly into it at four o'clock on a late January afternoon,
and Carolyn and Piotr stood on the top deck and watched the shore glide past.
She had dressed Piotr in long navy trousers and a short reefer jacket with a
scarlet pullover that matched the twin flags of colour in his cheeks. A sailor beret
perched on his head and he kept tugging it forward to stop it from falling off.
Carolyn too was dressed for an English winter, though she wished for a longer
skirt as she stepped down the gangplank and an icy wind whipped around her
knees.

Though she had cabled Mrs. Nichols the time of their arrival she had received no
word that anyone was to meet them, and it was not until she had been cleared
through Customs that a man in chauffeur's uniform came forward.
'Would you be Mrs. Kolsky?'

'Yes.'

'Good. One of the stewards said you were. I've been waiting under the letter "K"
for the last half hour.'

Carolyn gave a gasp of dismay. Though her passport was in her married name
she had stupidly queued under her own name. "Small wonder," she thought with
irony, for it was impossible to think of herself as a widow when she had never
even been a wife.

'Are you Mrs. Nichols' chauffeur?'

'No, madam. I'm from a car hire firm.'

'Is Terring far from here?'

'About an hour and a half.'

He led the way to a small car and soon they were speeding north through narrow
country lanes.

'Why didn't Grandma meet us?' Piotr asked.

'She probably thought it would be more fun to meet you for the first time in her
own home,' Carolyn lied, and wondered how any woman could have been
prevented from travelling a few hours in order to have first sight of her
grandchild.

Dusk was stealing long fingers across the sky as they reached the village of
Terring and they drove past a single row of houses and a pub and along a
winding lane to a pair of imposing wrought-iron gates set into a high brick wall.
They bowled up a twisting drive bordered by tall fir trees and not until they were
almost upon the house did Carolyn get a glimpse of it, so sheltered was it by
trees. Faint chinks of light were visible from some of the mullioned windows in
the downstairs rooms, but there was no welcoming light above the huge oak door
and the chauffeur had deposited their cases on the top step before the door was
opened by a young girl in a black dress and white apron.
Even in the hall itself the light was dim, and the curved staircase at one end
disappeared into darkness above her head. No one came out to greet her, and
Carolyn's sense of foreboding increased, making her long to pick up Piotr and
run away from this dark, unfriendly house.

'If you'll follow me, miss,' the maid said, 'the family is in the drawing-room.'

She walked over to a door, knocked loudly and opened it. A stream of light
flooded out from a long, narrow room and as Carolyn stepped through, four
faces turned to look at her. The intensity of their dislike was so strong that she
felt it like a blow, and instinctively drew Piotr close.

A slim figure detached itself from the group and came forward. 'You must be
Mrs. Kolsky. I'm Rosemary's mother.'

Hesitantly Carolyn smiled. 'This is your grandson,' she said, and bent her head to
Piotr. 'Come on, honey, say hello to your grandma.'

But Piotr, tired by the journey and dismayed by the large room and the
unfriendly voices, turned his head into Carolyn's skirt and burst into tears.

Instantly she knelt and gathered him close. 'I'm afraid it's been a long day for
him,' she apologised. 'I'd like to put him to bed.'

'Certainly.' Mrs. Nichols signalled to a tall, good-looking young man. 'Jeffrey

dear, will you show Mrs. Kolsky to her room?'

Jeffrey came forward, nodded coolly and led the way back into the hall and up
the dark stairs. He snapped on lights as they went, but they did little to dissipate
the gloom, and the bedroom she was ushered into was as dim and chill as die rest
of the house.

'Betty's had the window open to air the room,' he apologised in a light, well-
modulated voice, 'and it looks as if she's forgotten to close it' He moved across
and did so. 'It'll soon warm up. But if you're very cold I could get you an electric
fire.'

'Thanks,' Carolyn said dryly and looked at the double bed. 'Is Piotr supposed to
sleep with me or is there another room for him?'
'I'm afraid this is the only one ready. But you can have another one tomorrow.'
He moved back to the door, his brown hair glinting red as it caught the dim light
outside in the corridor. 'Will you be able to find your way down when you've put
the nipper to bed?'

'I'll try.'

Left alone, Carolyn hurriedly unpacked the few things she and Piotr would need
for the night. The room was still bitterly cold and the old-fashioned bathroom
that led out of it even colder. Quickly she undressed Piotr and put him to bed,
feeling an unexpected pang of heartache at sight of his smallness in its huge
depths.

'Don't leave me, Caro,' he whispered.

'It'll only be for a moment. I want to get you some warm milk and cereal. You
haven't had a proper meal since lunch-time.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'You will be when you see the food!'

She was almost at the door when it opened and the same maid who had let her
into the house, stood there with a tray in her hand.

'Cook sent up some soup for the little boy.'

'How kind. I was just coming to get something.' Carolyn took the tray and
perched on the edge of the bed.

The girl came forward and glanced round the room. 'Beats me why they didn't
give you the nursery suite. It's much more cheerful than this.'

Carolyn smiled at the words 'nursery suite', conjuring up as they did a picture of
an era long since vanished. 'Did many children live here?' she asked curiously.

'Only Miss Rosemary and Master Jeffrey. Miss Rosemary used one of the rooms
as a sitting-room for herself when she grew up, but it's been closed since she ran
off with that…' She stopped and turned her back. 'I talk too much. Cook's always
telling me off.'
'Never mind—I'm very tactful! And thanks for bring up the tray.'

Although he had professed not to be hungry, Piotr drank all the soup and, with
the warm fluid inside him, settled back drowsily against the pillows. Carolyn
moved quietly about the room, careful not to disturb him as she changed into a
dark silk dress and cardigan. Then she relaxed in a chair and turned off all the
lights except one.

'You're not going to leave me?' Piotr asked sleepily.

'Not yet, honey.'

'Why didn't Grandma kiss me?'

'Because you were crying. She'll kiss you in the morning to make up for it.'

'No, she won't. She doesn't like me.' He sat up and peered at her in the gloom. 'I
don't like her either—she's a stinker!'

'Piotr! That's quite enough. Now go to sleep.'

He snuggled down again and Carolyn marvelled at his perception : not that it had
needed much to sense the dislike of the family. The fact that she had been Peter's
second wife might have accounted for their antagonism towards herself, but she
could not understand why it should affect their attitude towards Piotr. She
shivered and hugged her cardigan closer, wishing she had never set foot in this
house and wondering how soon she would be able to leave it. Yet where could
she go? She had used up most of her savings to come from Canada, and unless
she spent Piotr's money, she was practically penniless.

A slight sigh came from the bed and Piotr stirred in his sleep. She tiptoed over
and gently pulled the bedclothes higher. 'If they don't want us,' she whispered
against the dark head, 'we'll go back—even if I have to wash dishes all the way
across the Atlantic!'

Outside in the corridor she hesitated, wondering which way led downstairs. A
glimmer of light in the distance indicated the stairs and she made towards it. In
the lower hall she hesitated again. No sound came from any of the rooms and she
hesitantly opened the door of the drawing-room and went in.
The girl she had seen on her arrival was sitting alone in front of a log fire, and
she looked up as Carolyn came in.

'I was beginning to think you'd got lost.'

Carolyn shivered. 'Frozen would be a better word.'

'You're not used to British weather!'

'It's colder in Canada,' Carolyn said dryly, 'but the heating's better!'

'Come closer to the fire and get warm.' The girl hesitated. 'Has—I'm afraid I
don't know his name—has the little boy settled down?'

'Piotr? Oh, sure. He's fast asleep. I'm sorry he cried when we arrived, but it was
all rather strange for him.'

'Poor little boy!'

The girl's pointed face was illuminated by a gentle smile that gave her an illusion
of beauty. In repose she could easily be overlooked, for her large pale eyes, pale
brown hair and thin figure were all equally undistinguished.

'Are you a relation?' Carolyn asked. 'We weren't introduced.'

'I'm hoping to be a relation. I'm engaged to Jeffrey.'

'Did I hear my name mentioned?'

Carolyn swung round to see Jeffrey Nichols at the door. He had changed into a
dinner jacket and she noticed with some discomfiture that the girl she had been
speaking to was also wearing evening dress.

'I'm glad you and Ella have introduced yourselves,' he said. 'Which reminds me
—what's your name? I can't keep calling you Mrs. Kolsky.'

'Try Carolyn.'

'Carolyn it shall be.' He helped himself to a cigarette and blew out a cloud of
smoke. 'This is an amusing situation when you think of it. You're the wife, or
should I say widow, of my late but not lamented brother-in-law. Would that
make you my sister-in-law?'

Carolyn moved closer to the fireplace. 'Is that remark supposed to be funny?'

He shrugged an apology. 'I was talking for the sake of talking. A bad habit of
mine. Well, I've apologised now, sister-in-law Carolyn, climb down off your
high horse.'

Impatiently Carolyn swung round. Jeffrey was sitting on the arm of Ella's chair
and, caught in a pool of light from a nearby lamp, she saw he was older than she
had first thought. Surely Peter had told her he had met Rosemary through
Jeffrey? If so, that would make them nearly the same age.

'If you're thinking about me,' Jeffrey said coolly, 'your thoughts can't be very
complimentary.'

She blushed. 'I wasn't only thinking of you, I was thinking about Peter too.'

'Then your thoughts couldn't have been complimentary to him either!'

'Jeffrey!' Ella remonstrated. 'Behave yourself!'

'Why should I?'

'Because it's bad manners not to.'

'Hoity-toity!'

'Really, children!' The door swung open to admit Mrs. Nichols. 'Don't tell me
you two are quarrelling again?' She turned to Carolyn, her expression growing
frigid. 'I hope you found everything comfortable?'

Carolyn hesitated, but good manners won the day. 'Yes, thank you. I'm sorry
Piotr wasn't on his best behaviour, but it was a long day for him.'

'Considering who his father was, I wasn't surprised at his display of

temperament.'

Carolyn was too shocked by the raw antagonism to reply and silently she turned
away and sat in a chair, watching as Jeffrey ambled over to the sideboard and
poured a drink for his mother. They both had the same warm brown colouring,
though in Mrs. Nichol's case Carolyn suspected that nature had been abetted. She
tried to find some resemblance to the snapshot of Rosemary, but there was no
similarity between the elfin-faced girl and the thin-mouthed, middle-aged
woman who sat like a ramrod in her chair.

'What will you drink, Carolyn?' Jeffrey asked.

She started and shook her head. 'Nothing, thanks.'

'Surely you're going to drink a toast to your arrival?' He raised his glass. 'If not,
I'll do it for you. To the Controller of the Household—short may she reign!'

'I'll have a whisky and soda if you don't mind, Jeffrey.'

A man's voice spoke quietly and Jeffrey swung round. 'Hello, Alvin. I didn't hear
you come in.'

'I've only just arrived. Unlike Ella, I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me,
so I had to return home.'

'You needn't have bothered, Alvin dear.'

Mrs. Nichols oozed graciousness, but the man she addressed made no answer
and merely stepped forward into the circle round the fire. From where she was
sitting, Carolyn was able to study him without his being aware of it. He had been
here on her arrival she remembered, but now, in a dinner jacket, he looked
entirely different. Hair she had mistaken for grey was, in reality, silver blond,
and his skin was so pale that even the glow from the fire failed to give it any
warmth. His mouth was long and thin, and as he turned to accept his drink from
Jeffrey, he stared directly at Carolyn. Unflinchingly she stared back at him,
disconcerted to find she could not see the expression in his eyes, for they were
hidden behind fine silver-rimmed glasses.

'Is this your first visit to England, Mrs. Kolsky?'

'Yes. I still can't believe I'm really here.'

'Pinch yourself. You'll find it's not a dream.'

His soft voice was tinged with such a dislike that Carolyn was convinced he
would have enjoyed doing the pinching himself, and again she wondered what
was causing this animosity.

Mrs. Nichols came forward and gave Alvin her arm. 'We can go in for dinner
now, Alvin dear. I'm sure you must be hungry.'

Ella and Jeffrey followed her, leaving Carolyn to bring up the rear, though a
quick half smile from Ella indicated an unspoken apology for what she
obviously knew to be a determined study in rudeness.

The dining-room was far colder than the drawing-room, and appeared even more
so by the heavy, old-fashioned furniture, blue damask curtains and icy crystal
chandelier that glittered down upon the long, dark table. A quantity of massive
silver ranged along the sideboard and ponderous cutlery marked each place on
the white damask cloth. Mrs. Nichols took the head of the table with Alvin and
Ella on either side of her, and Jeffrey next to his fiancee.

'Will you sit next to Alvin?' Mrs. Nichols said.

Carolyn slid into her chair, shivered slightly as the cool leather seat struck
through the fine material of her dress.

Almost immediately a maid came in and began to serve the meal. There was iced
grapefruit followed by cold salmon, and a sad-looking dessert of stewed fruit
that had all too obviously just left the refrigerator. Carolyn hastily put down her
spoon.

'Aren't you hungry?' Mrs. Nichols asked pointedly.

'Yes, I am. It's just that it's so cold.'

'If you want anything different in the future you must say so.'

'You're very kind.'

'I do not mean to be.' The older woman spoke with an effort. 'Whatever I say to
you, please do not think it stems from kindness.'

Mortified Carolyn stared down at her plate.

'We'll be having coffee in a moment,' Ella whispered across the table. 'That'll
warm you up.'

'I've been warned about English coffee,' Carolyn said with an effort, 'but the stuff
on the boat wasn't too bad.'

'You'll like ours,' Ella said. 'Alvin gets in direct from South America.'

'With his own home-produced cream,' Jeffrey interpolated.

Carolyn turned to the pale faced man at her side. 'Are you a farmer?'

'Not professionally. But a great deal of my land is given over to it.'

She looked Jeffrey. 'Have you much land here?'

'Only three acres. We've nothing so pretentious as Alvin.'

'Three acres still seems a lot to me, after living in a city. When I wrote to you I'd
no idea that..She stopped, and as no one said anything to help her, finished up
quickly: 'I'd no idea it would be anything like this.'

'Indeed,' Mrs. Nichols said coldly.

'I was mainly concerned about a family for Piotr,' Carolyn rushed on. 'I
explained it all in my letter to Aunt Agatha. I'm afraid I don't know her last
name.' She looked at the silent faces. 'I was under the impression she lived here.'

'That is so.' Mrs. Nichols closed her eyes and opened them again.

'Then perhaps I could see her later this evening.'

Ella's spoon clattered to the floor and there was a momentary diversion as Jeffrey
leaned forward and picked it up.

'That would be a somewhat difficult task, sister-in-law Carolyn,' he said as he

replaced the spoon on the table. 'As I am sure you already know, my inestimable
aunt died six weeks ago.'

There was an oppressive silence and Carolyn looked round at the four accusing
faces. Jeffrey and Mrs. Nichols were now openly hostile. Ella's eyes dropped as
Carolyn looked into them and the man at her side did not even glance round but
stared stonily at the wall opposite.

'How awful! I'd no idea. You must have thought me terribly tactless.'

'Clever would be a more appropriate word,' Mrs. Nichols said.

'I don't understand. I know it must have been painful for you to listen to me talk
about—about Aunt Agatha, but I assure you I had no idea she was dead. Why
should I try and be clever about it?'

'Why indeed?' Jeffrey murmured. 'After all, you're here, and that's what you
wanted.'

Carolyn lifted her head sharply and temper got the better of discretion. 'Not for
myself, I assure you. I'm only here because of Piotr. I know what it's like not to
have a family. That's why I wanted his life to be different. But you've made it
quite clear that I'm wasting my time. You were determined to dislike Piotr before
we ever arrived. But you needn't strain yourselves any more. I'd rather bring him
up alone than among people who don't want him!'

'There's no need to become hysterical,' Mrs. Nichols said. 'You can't blame us for
feeling the way we do. And there's no point in saying you intend leaving. Idle
threats are not——————————— '

'They're not idle, Mrs. Nichols! I mean every word. I'm sorry it's too late for me
to go tonight, but I'll leave first thing in the morning.' Carolyn pushed back her
chair and without waiting for anyone to reply, fled from the room. She was half
way up the stairs when someone called her name, but still unused to her new
surname, she did not stop, and the voice called again, louder this time.

Carolyn turned and looked down into the hall. The blond man was standing
there, his silver-rimmed glasses glinting in the dim light.

'What do you want?' she asked.

'To speak to you. Come down, please.'

'I've nothing to say to you.'

'Perhaps not, but I've plenty to say to you. Come down,' he said again. 'I dislike
having to shout.'

It was a command and instinctively she obeyed it, pausing on the last step but
one. 'Well?'

Without answering he turned and led the way into the drawing-room. Shivering
with cold, she knelt in front of the fire, holding her hands out to its warmth. The
man came and stood beside her and after a moment she stood up and looked at
him. They were so close that she could see the fine lines etched on either side of
his mouth, but even now it was impossible to see the expression in his eyes for
the lenses of his glasses distorted them, only the pale, glittering fawn of the irises
coming through.

'I suppose Mrs. Nichols asked you to speak to me? Well, I'm not going to take a
lecture from you. I know your sister's getting engaged to Jeffrey, but that doesn't
give you the right to interfere.'

'I've no intention of interfering. As far as I'm concerned you can——- ' A knock
at the door interrupted him and he paused as a maid came in with a tray of
coffee.

'Mrs. Nichols told me to bring it in to you, sir.'

'Thank you.'

The girl set the tray with its single coffee cup down on a table. The door closed
behind her and the man picked up the cup and handed it to Carolyn.

'No, thanks. It was sent in for you!'

'There's no need to be childish as well as rude.'

'I'm not the one who's childish.'

Deliberately he put sugar into the cup, stirred it and sipped, then carrying it in
his hand came across to stand beside her again. He was only a little taller than
she was, and used to looking up into a man's face it was strange to see one
almost level with her own.
'Hell,' she said breathlessly, 'let's get it over with! Then I can leave you without
being accused of any more rudeness.'

'If I were to continue with any accusation, it would be for cruelty.'

'Cruelty?' She stared at him in amazement. 'I don't know what you mean. I'd no
idea Aunt Agatha was dead. And now I know that she is, I'm leaving first thing
in the morning.'

'For a woman as intelligent as you obviously are, that is a singularly stupid

remark to make. You know very well you have no intention of leaving here.'

'Is that so? And what do you expect me to do? Stay here and make the best of it?'

'Yes. That's what Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey have to do.'

'No kidding,' she said sarcastically. 'I don't think they'd go and leave me in sole
possession.'

'They would if it were possible, but unfortunately the annuity Miss Nichols left
her sister-in-law and nephew was done so on condition they remained here.'

'That shouldn't be a hardship for them. They've lived here for years already!'

'With Miss Nichols as mistress. But now…' he turned and set down his coffee
cup.

'But now?' she prompted.

He faced her. 'With yourself in charge, it's quite another proposition.'

'In charge of Piotr, you mean?'

'A skilful way of putting it, Mrs. Kolsky. But as the person in charge of Piotr is
also trustee for the money Miss Nichols left him…'

'So that's why they hate me!' Carolyn's words came out on a sigh. 'What would
have happened if I hadn't married Peter?'

'Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey would have been the boy's legal guardians.'
'Then I'm glad Peter married me before he died.'

'I'm sure you are.'

Her eyes flashed angrily. 'Not for the reasons you think! I'd no idea this Agatha
woman would die and leave Piotr anything. Neither had Peter.'

'Nicely spoken, Mrs. Kolsky, but unfortunately not true. Miss Nichols wrote and
told her niece exactly what she was planning to do.'

'Then Rosemary didn't tell Peter. Or if she did, he didn't think it important
enough to tell me.'

The man laughed sharply. 'No one would consider half a million pounds
unimportant!'

Carolyn caught her breath. 'Half a million?'

'Yes. The boy gets it when he's twenty-one. But until then, his guardian has
control of all the interest that accrues, and that won't be less than thirty thousand
pounds per year, I assure you.'

'It's incredible! I'd no idea there was so much money involved.'

'Then you should be even more pleased that you married Peter Kolsky.'

For a moment Carolyn was nonplussed, but as she realised the implication of his
remark, anger swept over her. 'How dare you talk to me like that? I married Peter
to give Piotr a home and because he didn't want the boy to be cared for by
people who didn't want him. I knew nothing about the money.'

'That's difficult for me to believe.'

'I don't care whether you believe it or not. It happens to be true.' She blinked
back tears of temper. 'So that's why Airs. Nichols and Jeffrey hate me! If Peter
had died without marrying me, they'd have been Piotr's guardians.'

The man nodded. 'Perhaps you can understand now why they feel so bitter.'

'I'm afraid I can't. I wasn't brought up to worship money. As far as I'm concerned
they can have the lot!'

'A commendable statement,' came the dry reply, 'but aren't you forgetting the
main clause in the will?'

'What clause?'

'That the money and interest cannot be given to anyone other then Piotr and his
legal guardian.'

'I see.' Her anger abated and she turned away, forcing herself to think of the
future with some semblance of calm. No matter how much she disliked Mrs.
Nichols and Jeffrey, the money had been left to Piotr by the unknown Aunt
Agatha, and she herself had no right to disinherit him from it—even if she could.

She turned back to face the pale, contemptuous gaze of the man in front of her.
'If what you say is true, then I have no choice. But at least I need not stay here.
I'll make arrangements for Piotr and myself to return to Canada as soon as
possible.'

'A commendable decision, Mrs. Kolsky, but I'm afraid you're forgetting another
important clause in the will.'

'You'd better explain that remark too,' Carolyn said stiffly.

'It's simple. Piotr only gets the money if he lives here until he's twenty-one. If he
leaves this house, everything goes to a home for cats.' The man moved to the
door. 'You won't be able to work your way out of that one, Mrs. Kolsky—though
no doubt I'm sure you'll try.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Carolyn lay half way between waking and sleeping, a chord in her subconscious
registering a strange absence of noise. Like a swimmer rising to the surface, her
mind became aware of the sounds that were missing: the creak of the boat
beneath her and the lap-lap of the waves. She sat up sharply and instantly
remembered where she was. Daylight seeped in through the curtains, picking out
the shape of the furniture ranged along the wall.

She leaned over the bed. Piotr was still asleep, his face buried in the pillow, and
stealthily she slipped out, felt for her slippers and pattered into the bathroom. In
the daylight the bath and sink looked even dingier than they had the previous
night. The ceiling above the geyser was black with smoke and the oilcloth on the
floor had worn through to the boards.

She sat on the edge of a cork stool and wondered what to do. The memory of last
night returned with painful force. After the episode with the unknown Alvin she
had gone into the dining- room to speak to Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey, but that had
led to an even more unpleasant scene, culminating in Mrs. Nichols losing her
self-control and rushing from the room.

'It's an impossible situation,' she reflected as she began to dress. 'The only thing
is to see a lawyer and find out if Piotr can keep the money without living here.'

Piotr was still asleep by the time she was ready to go downstairs, and she
returned to the bedroom and pulled back the curtains. The rusty hooks screeched
against the brass rod and Piotr stirred and flung out his arms. Carolyn walked
over and kissed him. Surely no grandmother could refuse to love a child like this
—he might be Peter's son, but he was also Rosemary's.

'Is it morning already?' Piotr asked sleepily.

'I'll say! It's half-past eight and we've overslept.'

'What do I have for breakfast in this country?'

'The same as you get at home.'

He scrambled out of bed and pranced around the floor. 'Do I wear the same as
yesterday?'

'Yes. We're not going to unpack for the moment.'

'Aren't we going to stay here, Caro?'

'Don't ask so many questions, darling. And put your slippers on or you'll catch
cold. Now hurry, or I'll go down without you.'

The threat was effective, and in a short while the two of them went downstairs.
There was no one in the drawing-room and the table in the dining-room was
bare.

'Is this a palace?' Piotr asked in an awed voice.

'Not so you'd notice! Come on, let's go exploring.'

They crossed the hall and in the stairwell saw a green baize door; pushing it
open, they walked down a long corridor which terminated in a butler's pantry
lined with glass-covered cupboards. Facing them was another door and they
opened it and entered a large, bright kitchen.

A woman turned round from the gas-stove. 'Good gracious, what are you doing
here?'

'I've come in search of breakfast. I'm Miss - Mrs. Kolsky.'

'For land sakes! It's the little sitting-room you'll be wanting. Miss Agatha always
had breakfast there. The rest of the family have it in their rooms. If you'd like
yours sent up, it's easily done.'

'We'd rather come down, thank you.'

The woman's pink face grew pinker and she came over to Piotr and knelt down
beside him. 'So you're my Rosemary's boy?' she crooned. 'I never thought I'd live
to see the day.' She clasped him close. 'Land sakes! You've got the same black
hair and the same smile. I was cook here when your mummy was a little girl.
She'd come into my kitchen every day and ask for something special.'
'Can I have something special too?' Piotr asked.

'Of course you can. Any time you want anything, just tell me and I'll make it for
you.' She wiped the edge of her apron across her eyes and got up. 'I'm all of a
flutter. Rosemary's son in my kitchen and poor Miss Agatha not here to see him!
That's ail she used to talk about towards the end.'

'Did she never see him?' Carolyn asked.

'Only in a snapshot. She kept it in her prayer book and spent her time looking at
it in chinch.' The cook smiled gently. 'She was a real card, was Miss Agatha.
Miss Rosemary was the only person she cared about, and when she ran off…'
The woman threw up her hands in an expressive gesture and turned back to the
stove. 'You'll be hungry, no doubt. Is there anything special you'd like?'

'Muffins and maple syrup,' Piotr said.

'Muffins I can arrange for tomorrow, my lad, but I don't know what you mean by
maple syrup.'

'It comes from the maple tree.'

'Well now, does it really? I can see there'll be quite a lot of things you'll have to
tell Cook, but all in good time. What can I get for you, Mrs. Kolsky?'

'Coffee and rolls, please. And some fruit for Piotr—orange juice and an apple if
you've got one. If you'll tell me where they are I can fix it myself.'

'That's what I'm here for.'

Carolyn flushed. 'I'm sorry, but I've been used to getting things for myself.'

'Well, you needn't any more. You just tell me what you want and I'll see you
have it.'

Carolyn was too touched to reply, for it was the first gesture of kindness she had
received since her arrival in England. 'That's very sweet of you. If you could tell
me where the sitting- room is…'

'Back through the corridor and second door on the right. It's a sun parlour really,
and lovely and bright at this time of day.'

Following the woman's instructions, Carolyn had no difficulty in finding the

room. It was far warmer than the rest of the house, and furnished with an
intimacy that suggested loving care. Breakfast arrived as soon as she and Piotr
had settled at the small table in the sun-filled alcove, and she was just starting on
her second cup of coffee when Mrs. Nichols came in. 'I thought you were having
your breakfast in bed.'

'I only have it in bed when I'm ill,' Piotr piped up. 'Did you have yours upstairs?'

"Yes. I always do.'

Piotr stared at her intently, his dark brows drawn together in a frown. 'I was
afraid of you last night, that's why I cried.'

'There's no need to be afraid of me,' Mrs. Nichols said coldly. 'I won't hurt you,
child. I'm your grandmother.'

'Why?'

'Because your mother———- ' Mrs. Nichols paused, 'your mother was my
daughter. Did she never speak of me?'

'I don't remember. But my papa did. He said—- '

'Now run along, Piotr,' Carolyn interrupted quickly.

'Where to?'

"The kitchen. Ask Cook if she'll wash your hands.'

Piotr slid down from the chair, rubbed his hair with one sticky hand and
disappeared.

For a moment there was silence, then unexpectedly Mrs. Nichols spoke. 'I can
hardly believe Rosemary's dead. She should never have had any children. She
wasn't strong enough.'

'She had Piotr,' Carolyn said gently.

'All the more reason not to have any more. It was tempting fate.'

'But Peter loved her,' Carolyn protested. 'He would never have wanted her to
have another child if he'd thought it was dangerous.'

'Wouldn't he?'

Mrs. Nichols' tone was too icy to be ignored. 'What exactly do you mean by
that?'

'Only that it didn't take him long to marry someone else!'

Carolyn turned red. 'I'd like to tell you about that, Mrs. Nichols.'

'There's no need. You're Peter's wife and my grandson's guardian. That gives you
everything you and Peter must have schemed for. But at least I'm glad he's dead
and can't take advantage of it!'

'Don't say that!' Carolyn burst out. 'Peter knew nothing about the will. I swear it.
Otherwise he would have told me.'

'Don't expect me to believe that he didn't,' came the answer. 'I'm not a fool.'

Carolyn sighed, realising that words were useless; only action could help. 'I'd
like to go and see a lawyer. There must be some way of getting round this damn
fool idea of us all having to live here together. Is there anyone you can suggest?'

'There's the family solicitor. At least if you go to him it will keep all this
unsavoury business quiet. It's Jefferson and Arnold in Chichester, and the man to
ask for is Mr. Arnold.'

'Right. I'll go this morning. Believe me, I can't leave this place quickly enough.
I've never stayed any place where I wasn't wanted.'

'For heaven's sake be civilised about it!'

'I'm trying to be. It's you that should try a bit harder.' Carolyn swung on her heel
and ran down the corridor into the kitchen. The cook had perched Piotr up on the
draining board and he was watching her peel some potatoes.
'Do you want anything, madam?'

'I was coming for Piotr. I have to go into Chichester.'

'Why not leave him with me? It's all of eight miles into town and there's no need
to take him.' She glanced at the clock on the wall. 'The next bus goes on the half-
hour, so you'd best hurry.'

Carolyn looked at Piotr. 'Would you like to stay here, honey, or do you want to
come with me?'

'I'll stay with Cookie.'

'Cook, darling, not Cookie.'

The woman smiled. 'He told me a moment ago I was good enough to eat. That's
why he calls me Cookie! He's got the gift of the gab—just like his mother had.'

'Did you know Piotr's mother well?' Carolyn said quietly.

'That I did. She came to live here with her mother and Master Jeffrey when their
father died. She must have been about six at the time…' She stopped and looked
at the clock again. 'I don't want to hurry you, but if you want to get the bus…'

'I certainly da Where does it leave from?'

'Go down the drive and walk left along the lane for about five yards.'

It was cold and miserable walking down the drive for yellow and brown leaves
were soggy underfoot and long branches dripped over her head. The grey sky
and low-lying mist blanched all colour from the landscape, and used to the
magnificent Canadian elms and maples, she saw no beauty in the acacia and
hawthorns growing along the hedgerows.

She reached the bus stop and stood in the shelter of an oak. There was no one
else waiting and at the end of ten minutes she wondered if she had
misunderstood the cook's directions. Just as she had given up hope there was the
chough-chough of an engine and a single-decker bus drew to a stop beside her.

'Do you go to Chichester?' she asked the conductor.

That's right. 'Op in.'

Carolyn sat down on a seat by the door. The bus was crowded with women
carrying shopping baskets, and though one or two of them smiled, no one spoke
to her. It was only when they reached the outskirts of the town that she realised
she did not have the address of the solicitors.

The conductor was leaning against the bar at her side and she looked up at him
hopefully.

'I don't suppose you happen to know where I could find a law firm called
Jefferson and Arnold?'

'I know every place in Chichester, miss. Born and bred here.' He pointed through
the window. 'See that copper? The firm you want is in the office just behind
him.' He caught her arm and propelled her to the door. 'We're stopping for the
lights. Quick, off you get!'

As the bus began to move again Carolyn jumped on to the pavement. The door
immediately facing her was open and she entered a passage and climbed a
narrow flight of stairs to a dingy door with the name 'Jefferson and Arnold'
engraved on it. Inside, she gave her name to a middle-aged typist who looked at
her doubtfully before she disappeared into an inner sanctum. She came out after
a moment, her expression veiled.

'Mr. Arnold can see you in a moment. Would you like to sit down?'

Carolyn perched on the edge of a chair, but no sooner had she done so when a
buzzer sounded and the typist indicated the door behind her.

'Go straight through.'

Carolyn entered a room slightly dimmer but not as dusty as the one she had just
vacated. Bookcases lined the walls and a large desk almost covered a faded blue
carpet.

Mr. Arnold stood up to greet her, his plump, pink face beaming a welcome.
'Delighted to see you. Delighted.'

'I hope you don't mind my coming on the spur of the moment?'
'Most certainly not. I had intended calling you myself later in the week, but I
wanted to give you a chance to settle down first.' He ushered her to a shiny
leather armchair and resumed his seat behind the desk. 'I take it you've come to
hear the details about the will?'

'Yes. I'm afraid I don't know more than a sketchy outline.

Mrs. Nichols wasn't very——— ' Carolyn hesitated and then said in a rush: 'She
was obviously most angry and upset at the J whole thing.'

'Hardly surprising,' Mr. Arnold said dryly. 'The whole thing was somewhat
childish.'

'I never knew there was any money involved,' Carolyn explained. 'It came as a
shock when I found out.'

'A pleasant one, of course.'

'I'm not sure.'

'Not sure?' The question was so full of incredulity that Carolyn realised she
would have to explain her position more fully. As briefly as she could she
recounted the events that had led her to her marriage with Peter and her
subsequent realisation that she herself would have to take care of Piotr, not only
emotionally but financially too.

'So you see,' she concluded, 'I only decided to come to England as a last resort.
I'd no idea I would benefit in any way. I just thought it would be best for Piotr to
be brought up by his own family—especially as I couldn't afford to look after
him properly on my own.'

The solicitor thrust his thumbs into the front of his waistcoat. 'So you had no
knowledge of the contents of the will?'

'None at all. Miss Nichols only referred to it in one of the letters she wrote to her
niece.' Carolyn opened her bag and took out an envelope. 'Here it is. The first
paragraph's the important one. She says she's made her will and refers to a
previous letter. But I didn't find it in the deed box. I suppose Rosemary didn't
take it seriously and burnt it.'
'Or else didn't want her husband to find out,' came the shrewd reply. "Peter
Kolsky was not the sort of man to accept favours from anyone—particularly
from someone whom he regarded as an enemy.' Mr. Arnold leaned forward,
thumbs still hidden. 'I take it Mrs. Nichols has told you the main terms of the
will?'

'I know I have to remain at Royston in order for Piotr to inherit the money.'

'That was the clause Miss Nichols emphasised most strongly. She was
determined Rosemary should come home.'

'I guess that's why Rosemary destroyed the letter. She probably didn't want Peter
to know. He made no secret about loathing the entire Nichols family!'

'He had some justification for it,' Mr. Arnold answered. 'But they had some
justification too.'

Unwilling to enter into the merits of who was right, Carolyn changed the subject.
'Was Miss Nichols in the habit of making wills?'

'It was her favourite occupation! Every month or so she'd have another pet
charity to add to the list or another person to take off it! At one time Jeffrey was
the sole heir, then it was a cat's home, then Rosemary, then Jeffrey again.'

'No wonder Rosemary didn't tell her husband,' Carolyn burst out triumphantly.
'She knew it would lead to an argument and she probably destroyed the letter and
forgot about it. Or else decided to wait and see if her aunt changed her mind
again before she died.'

'It seems a reasonable supposition, Mrs. Kolsky, eminently reasonable.'

'If you believe me, why can't the others?'

'When judgement is clouded by emotion, it becomes irrational. Besides, I never

said I did believe you!'

'But what do I gain by playing dumb? I could stay at Royston without bothering
to make any pretence.'

'Only a completely hard woman would not mind appearing' —he searched for
the right word—'appearing as if they were a gold-digger! And on your own
admission you did not love Air. Kolsky when you married him.'

'I told you why I became his wife. Because I didn't want Piotr to be alone.'

'The child had a grandmother and an uncle,' Mr. Arnold intervened.

'But at the time I didn't know,' she protested. 'I tell you I didn't know!'

'Please don't be upset at what I'm saying, Mrs. Kolsky. I'm merely trying to
clarify the position. You are the boy's legal guardian and as such you have
control of the income from an exceptionally large amount of capital. It's all
invested in gilt- edged securities and after tax you will still have a considerable
sum.'

There was silence; broken only when Carolyn decided that curiosity outweighed
pride. 'How much do you call considerable?'

'Ten thousand pounds.'

'Holy smoke! That's a fortune!'

'It is indeed. Particularly when you consider that the capital is untouched.
Naturally you will have the Manor to maintain. It's an ugly old house, but the
late Miss Nichols was fond of it.'

'Is it absolutely irrevocable? The will, I mean? Is there no way of my getting out
of it?'

'Out of it? In what way?'

'Of giving it back to Mrs. Nichols and her son.'

Mr. Arnold shook his bald head vigorously. 'I spent nearly a week going through
it with young Jeffrey. We even went so see Counsel in London. But it was
watertight. Absolutely watertight.' He shrugged. 'I should know—I drew it up
myself!'

'And if I don't comply?'

'Then there'll be too many well-fed cats!'

Carolyn stood up and angrily paced the small area of carpet in front of the desk.
'I'm darned if I'll let it be wasted that way.'

'I quite agree. Surely you can come to some amicable arrangement with the
family? Mrs. Nichols did not have an easy time with her sister-in-law, you know.
Miss Nichols was an autocratic woman given to little whims that, to quote the
vernacular, drove the family up the wall!'

Carolyn smiled dryly. 'They had it coming to them. They thought they were on to
a good thing.'

'Then at least you can appreciate their bitterness!'

'Yes,' she conceded, 'but it doesn't make me feel any kindlier towards them. What
happened to Mrs. Nichols' husband?'

'He was killed in a car accident in Monte Carlo. His wife and two children were
left without any money and they came to live at Royston Manor.'

'How come Miss Nichols had the fortune?'

'The old Air. Nichols was very astute. His son was dissolute, so he left
everything to his daughter Agatha on condition that she gave her brother a
certain sum each year. Young Jeffrey takes after his father, I think. At least he
could if he had the money to be idle!' 'No wonder he hates me,' Carolyn
murmured. 'He'd be rich if I weren't Piotr's guardian.'

'He'll still be rich,' Mr. Arnold stated. 'His fiancee is extremely wealthy.'

'She was the nicest person there last night. Mind you, her brother more than
made up for it. He was even more antagonistic towards me than Mrs. Nichols
and her son.'

'Alvin Tyssen takes some knowing.'

Carolyn's head jerked up sharply. 'Did you say Tyssen?'

'Yes.'
'Would he have any connection with a chemical or armament plant?'

'Chemical. Though I believe it was given over to making armaments and

explosives during the war. But that was in his father's time, though. He's dead
now and Alvin runs it alone. A brilliant young man. Brilliant.'

'Then he must be the person Peter hated! He held him responsible for the death
of his mother and sister.'

'I don't follow you.'

'It was an air raid dining the war.'

Mr. Arnold frowned. 'Ah yes, I remember. Practically a whole village wiped out.'

'But the Tyssen plant remained intact!'

'If it had been struck, many more people would have died. They employ over
three thousand men.'

Carolyn sighed. 'Peter still felt bitter about it—and about this man in particular.'

'Alvin was a child at the time—so was Peter Kolsky.'

'Children in particular feel the loss of their parents,' Carolyn said dryly.

'Naturally. I'm not questioning that at all. But he had no cause to blame someone
who was also a child when it happened.'

'Emotions make one irrational.'

'Obviously.' The solicitor leaned back in his chair. 'Peter Kolsky certainly made
sure that Alvin suffered.'

'In what way?'

'Surely you know'—the buzzer rang loudly in the room and Mr. Arnold jumped
up—'Forgive me, this contraption always frightens me out of my wits! It's a
recent installation by my partner.' He pointed to a black box on his desk. 'Inter-
office communication—so unnecessary. Walking across the hall to see my
secretary or Air. Jefferson was the only exercise I managed to get.' He glanced at
his watch. 'I don't like to hurry you but I've another appointment, I fear. If you
could let me know next time you're coming…'

'Of course. It was kind of you to see me.'

'Not at all. I knew Rosemary and I liked her very much. As the guardian of her
son, you mustn't let her down.'

Carolyn smiled tremulously. 'And leave the money to cats? I've got my pride,
Mr. Arnold, but not even pride would make me that stupid!' She was at the door
when she turned to face him. 'Are you absolutely sure there's no way I can give
Mrs. Nichols and her son the bulk of the money?'

'No way at all.'

'If we went to see another Counsel perhaps he— '

'No, Mrs. Kolsky. I can assure you Jeffrey Nichols went into the matter most
thoroughly. You are the boy's guardian, and you control the interest of his money
until he comes of age.'

Still pondering the problem, Carolyn left Mr. Arnold, and reached Royston
Manor at one o'clock. There was a small shooting-brake parked at the bottom of
the steps and as she entered the house, Ella came into the hall.

'We were waiting lunch for you.'

'I must give Piotr his first.' Carolyn avoided Ella's eyes. This was, after all, the
sister of the man that Peter had hated so much. 'You'd better not wait for me.'

'Piotr ate with Cook at half-past twelve. And afterwards she sent him upstairs for
a rest.'

'How convenient Cook was here,' Carolyn said sarcastically. 'It saved anyone
else from having to bother with him!'

'But Cook loved doing it,' the girl said ingenuously. 'She used to adore looking
after Rosemary and Jeffrey when they were young. Just leave your coat in the
hall and we'll go and eat.'
At the risk of being churlish, Carolyn had no option but to accept, and leaving
her coat on a chair she followed Ella down the corridor to the breakfast-room.

Mrs. Nichols was already seated there, and looked at Carolyn with hostility. 'So
you're back. Did you learn anything new from Mr. Arnold?'

'Only that there's absolutely nothing I can do to alter the will.'

'That must have made you very pleased!'

'I'd be even more pleased if we could come to some amicable arrangement 1'

'Those sound like Mr. Arnold's words,' Ella intervened quickly.

'Naturally,' Mrs. Nichols retorted. 'Why should Mrs, Kolsky bother about a
working arrangement between us? She's the mistress here and she can do exactly
as she wants.'

'I'm here as Piotr's guardian,' Carolyn replied. 'And Piotr is your grandson.'

'Carolyn's right.' Ella put down her knife and fork. 'Please, mother-in-law-to-be,
can't you and Carolyn be friends? Otherwise it'll be such an awful atmosphere
for Piotr.'

Mrs. Nichols stared at the table. 'You must realise, Ella dear, that you see Mrs.
Kolsky in a different way from me. I can only see her as the widow of a man
who robbed me of my daughter.'

'You can't blame me for that,' Carolyn said passionately.

'You loved a man that I loathed.'

'I didn't love him! I told you that last night.'

'Then you married him for the money that was left to his son—and that's even
worse!' Mrs. Nichols stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, I'll finish my lunch in my
room.'

Only when they were alone did Ella speak, her tone as placatory as her
expression. 'It's so difficult for her to accept the present position. Not just
because of the money, but because seeing you reminds her of Rosemary. She was
devoted to her.'

'Not devoted enough to let her marry the man she loved. Or to forgive her after
she'd done it.'

'There were extenuating circumstances. You can't judge a person without

knowing all the facts.'

'That's what Mrs. Nichols is doing with me! She didn't wait until she saw me
before deciding I was a gold-digger!'

Ella smiled. ‘I don't think you are.'

'Coming from the sister of a man who treats me like one, that's a very
magnanimous remark!'

'Now you're being unreasonable. Just because Alvin's my brother doesn't mean
we agree on everything.'

Carolyn fingered the edge of her plate. 'I can understand why Peter disliked your
brother—even though it was emotional—but I can't for the life of me see why
your brother should have disliked him.'

'Then you obviously don't know the facts,' Ella said quietly.

'What do you mean?'

'When Peter eloped with Rosemary, it was three weeks before she was due to
marry Alvin!'

'How dreadful!' Carolyn thought of the slim, slightly built man with his pale face
and precise voice; but even though her anger had vanished she found it difficult
to feel sympathy for someone so controlled and unemotional. 'I can't quite see
them together,' she added. 'I only saw a snap of Rosemary, but from what Peter
said about her she sounded the exact opposite of your brother.'

'Alvin's changed a lot since those days.'

'How old is he?'

'Thirty-four. He's seven years older than I am.' 'I thought you were younger.'

'Thanks,' Ella smiled. 'I expect it's because I'm happy. After waiting all this time
for Jeffrey…' She stretched her arms above her head. 'I can't believe we're going
to get married. I've been in love with him for years.'

'What took him so long to make up his mind? If he knew you'—Carolyn stopped
and rubbed the side of her cheek—'Oh! That sounds like a real nosy question.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.'

'You're not prying. It's a perfectly logical question to ask. The fact is that Jeffrey
asked me to marry him years ago, but I wouldn't.' 'Why not?'

'Because of Rosemary. You see, when she eloped it messed things up for us.'
'How come?'

'Because it was Jeffrey who actually introduced her to Peter. So he blamed

himself for spoiling Alvin's life.' Ella's eyes glittered with unshed tears. 'Alvin
took it very badly, you see. And the only way he could cope was to shut himself
down emotionally. That's always been his trouble. When anyone hurts him he
closes up like a clam.' 'And that stopped you from marrying Jeffrey?' 'Yes. I
didn't have the heart to leave Alvin. Our parents died when I was ten and he
really brought me up. If I'd married Jeffrey it would have caused him to stop
seeing me.' 'But you were entitled to your own happiness.' 'Not at my brother's
expense.' 'What happened then?'

'We began to travel. Tyssen's have lots of branches round the world, and in the
past five years we went to see every one of them. Then six months ago Alvin
said it was high time I got married. He took me by surprise,' she confessed, 'and I
blurted out that as long as I loved Jeffrey I could never be anyone else's wife.'
Ella pushed away her plate. 'I never want to see such a look on Alvin's face
again. He was horrified to think I'd been in love with Jeffrey all these years and
not told him. Being Alvin, he acted at once. We returned to England, came to see
Jeffrey, offered him a job at the factory and said he could start courting me all
over again! From then on, Alvin's almost been normal.' 'He must have loved
Rosemary very deeply.'

'Or been hurt very much,' his sister said. 'Even if they married I don't think they'd
have been happy for long. Rosemary was lovely and sweet, but Alvin only saw
her as a child— not a woman. He would have spoilt her outrageously but never
made her feel he needed her.'

'Your brother doesn't strike me as the sort of person who needs anyone.'

'That's because you don't know him. You wouldn't say that if you did.'

Carolyn made a face. 'I can't help being prejudiced.'

'But at least you can understand his feelings,' Ella remarked. 'If he'—she stopped
as a maid came into the room—'Yes, what is it?'

'There's a crowd of reporters at the door asking for Mrs. Kolsky and the boy.'

Ella caught Carolyn's eye and made a face. 'I was afraid this would happen.
Would you like Betty to tell them you're not in?'

'What's the use? They'll just keep hounding me till they get an interview.'
Carolyn stood up. 'I'll go out and get it over with. Don't worry, Ella, I'll be as
discreet as I can.'

With head held high, Carolyn left the room.

CHAPTER FIVE
The return of Piotr to Royston Manor was a seven days' wonder for the
newspapers. There were innumerable photographs of the house and a few of
Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey. There were also many candid shots of Carolyn, some
so obviously taken with a zoom lens that for weeks she was afraid to go out
without making sure there were no photographers around.

Towards the middle of October the papers found other news to occupy them,
peace returned once more to the village. With a determined effort Carolyn tried
to settle down, but looking after one child instead of half a dozen occupied so
little of her time that she was often bored.

To begin with Mrs. Nichols completely disregarded her grandson, but after the
first few days Piotr—encouraged by the adoration of Cook and Betty—no longer
held his grandmother in awe and, tired of just being master in the kitchen, he
began to take an interest in the rest of the house and its occupants.

Jeffrey treated him with easy camaraderie, referring to him either as Lord
Fauntleroy or Boss, both names amusing Piotr immensely. To begin with Mrs.
Nichols looked on bleakly, but eventually she too began to be swayed by the
little boy's artlessness and, as if sensing it, Piotr would often try and include her
in the conversation.

One afternoon Carolyn was sitting in the upstairs nursery with Piotr when Mrs.
Nichols came in. Usually they only met at mealtimes and this was the first time
the woman had entered the nursery since Carolyn had ordered it to be prepared
for her use.

'I'm sorry to disturb you,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'but I met Miss Talbot in the village.
She runs a kindergarten about half a mile down the lane and I thought it would
be a good idea for Piotr to go there. He'll be five soon and it's time he mixed
with other children.'

Carolyn nodded enthusiastically. 'Is it a proper school or a nursery?'

'They play in the afternoon but have lessons in the morning. I don't know
whether you've considered his schooling, but in England boys of good family are
usually sent to boarding school.' 'I should have thought that in good families they
were kept at home!'

'You must do as you please,' Mrs. Nichols replied stiffly.

'I didn't mean to be rude,' Carolyn said quickly, 'but back home most parents like
having their kids around them.'

'I'm merely telling you what is customary here. It's up to you to decide for
yourself.'

'Decide what?' Piotr asked, putting down the fire-engine he had been playing
with.

'Decide whether or not you'd like to go to a boarding school when you're older.'

'The one Uncle Jeffrey went to?'

'How do you know your uncle went to one?' Mrs. Nichols asked.

'Cookie told me and then I asked him about it.' Piotr shook back his hair and
laughed. 'He said I was rich enough to buy the damn place for myself.'

'I see,' his grandfather said dryly. 'I'll have to have a word with your uncle.'

'Why?'

'Because little pitchers have big ears—and the sooner you're in school with
children of your own age, the better. There's a lovely kindergarten not far from
here, Piotr. Would you like to go there?'

'Can I come home at night?'

'Certainly.'

'Then I'll go. But I like to see you all the time.'

Mrs. Nichols was taken aback. 'You don't know me.'

'You're my grandma, and Caro says all boys like their grandmas.'
'That's very nice of your—of Mrs.—of Carolyn.' Mrs. Nichols patted his head
awkwardly and went out, and Carolyn looked at Piotr.

'One step further, honey.'

'Further where?'

'Into the charmed circle where you belong.'

The following Monday Piotr started school, and at nine- thirty each morning
Carolyn took him down the lane to the brick-built house where he learned simple
lessons with a dozen other children. At twelve-thirty she collected him for lunch,
returning him again at half-past two for another hour. Occasionally Betty offered
to call for him, but more often than not Carolyn went herself, for it gave her
something to do. Frequently she browsed in the small library that opened twice a
week in the church hall, and sometimes she would go for a long walk along the
narrow lanes bordering the village.

One afternoon, on her way to collect Piotr, she called in at the post office to buy
some airmail stamps and a tall, heavily built man who was on his way out
stepped forward in her path and almost knocked her down.

'What a clumsy fool I am,' he said in a deep voice. 'And me not seeing there was
anyone coming in! Are you hurt?'

'Just winded,' she said breathlessly. 'I thought you were going to knock me out.'

She turned to the counter and, as she bought her stamps, was aware of him
looking at her for a moment before raising his cap to the postmistress and
walking out. But when she came into the street again she was surprised to see
him waiting for her beside a small sports car.

'I hope you'll let me give you a lift? After nearly sending you flying I feel it's the
least I can do.' 'I'm going to collect my stepson from school.'

'Then allow me to take you. You're Mrs. Kolsky, aren't you?'

'My fame has preceded me,' she said dryly. 'I'm sure it was a fame you could
have done without,' he replied sympathetically. 'Incidentally, my fame isn't
enough to need no introduction, I'm afraid! My name's Derek de Mancy.'
'The artist?'

'How did you know that?'

'Betty—our maid—said an artist with a wild-looking beard had rented a cottage

down by the shore. And you're the only beard I've seen for miles!'

The brown eyes twinkled and he stroked the dark hair on his chin. 'At least I
have my beard to thank for something! It's a relic of Navy days, I'm afraid. My
sister threatens to leave me if I don't shave it off, but I'm still managing to resist
her.' 'Do you like the beard so much?'

'On the contrary. But I refuse to give in to Margaret! She's inclined to be bossy
and if she once has her way with me, there'll be no stopping her!' Carolyn
smiled. 'What sort of pictures do you paint?' 'Portraits mainly. I had one accepted
at the Academy two years and it rather went to my head. Since then I've done a
few commissions, but I'm finding it tough going.'

'Most artists do, from what I hear. Do you do any other work?'

'Not if I can help it. I'm a good portrait painter even if I say so myself—and I've
no intentions of wasting my energies on work I'd hate. Luckily Margaret believes
in me too, and she's come down to keep house for me for a few months.'

'Does she paint as well?'

'She's a nurse. Matron in charge of an orphanage up North. She had a bit of a

breakdown from overwork and she's been ordered a rest.'

'I was a nurse at an orphanage in Canada,' Carolyn said.

'Then you must meet my sister. You'll have lots to talk about.'

'I'd like that.'

He drew the car to a stop outside Miss Talbot's house. 'I'll wait and run you back
if you like.'

'Please don't bother.'

'It would be a pleasure.'

He was still waiting for her when she came out with Piotr, and the little boy
insisted on sitting in the front and asking questions about the engine, all of which
Derek de Mancy answered with patience and simplicity.

'Can the man have tea with us, Caro?' Piotr asked as they drew up at the front
door of the Manor.

'Not today, darling. I'm sure Mr. de Mancy has lots to do.'

Carolyn looked at the man and smiled. 'Piotr's at an age where he hasn't learned
discretion.'

'Rather embarrassing from your point of view.' He stepped out of the car and
Carolyn had to look a long way up to see his face.

'Thanks again for bringing me home.'

'A pleasure. May I hold you to what you said earlier about coming over for tea
and meeting Margaret?'

'Of course.'

'Let's make it some time this week. We're home every afternoon. We've rented
the last cottage on the shore road.' He replaced the battered cap on his head,
vaulted into his seat without opening the door, and drove off with a sharp change
of gears.

Carolyn let herself into the house and Piotr made straight for the drawing-room
where Mrs. Nichols was presiding over the tea trolley.

'We came home in a car,' he shouted. 'A car with no hood!'

'It was a Mr. de Mancy,' Carolyn explained. 'He knocked me over in the post
office and insisted on bringing me home.'

'Oh, really? I've never heard of him.'

'He's an artist. He has a cottage on the shore road.'

'Permanently?'

'I don't know.'

'He looks different,' Piotr interrupted.

'He has a beard,' Carolyn explained.

Mrs. Nichols laughed and touched Piotr's cheek. 'Run along to Cook, child, or
you'll be late for tea.'

Carolyn helped herself to a scone. 'Even I'm getting into the tea habit!'

'Don't eat too much—Alvin and Ella are dining with us and we're having braised
duck.'

'Good.' Carolyn bit into her scone. 'It's a pity they've got to bring the food all the
way from the kitchen—it's cold by the time it gets here. Perhaps we could buy an
electric trolley.'

Mrs. Nichols set down her cup sharply. 'You may do as you please. You are in
charge of Royston.'

Carolyn looked into the stern face and sighed, realising that further conversation
was impossible.

During dinner that night Carolyn learned that Jeffrey and Ella's engagement
party was to be held in two weeks' time.

'Alvin's going to Sweden in a few days,' his sister explained, 'and we want to
hold it as soon as he returns.'

'Not soon enough for me,' Jeffrey responded gallantly. 'We've waited long
enough already!'

Carolyn looked at him surreptitiously, but his expression was innocent, as

though he meant every word.

'We can't undo the past, Jeffrey,' Alvin said precisely. 'I would have been quite
happy for Ella to marry you without wasting time on an engagement. But you
know what women are—they like to spin out the romance!'

'An engagement's fun,' Ella said. 'I won't be done out of it! Anyway, by the end
of January, I'll be Mrs. Nichols junior.'

Jeffrey laughed. 'Can you imagine what my life will be like with two women to
boss me?'

'I'll never boss you,' Ella protested. 'You'll be the one to make a doormat of me!'

Carolyn silently echoed the words and looked affectionately at the girl opposite.
Plain she might be, but the gentleness of her character gave her a charm that was
as endearing as beauty. If only Jeffrey could realise it!

Looking at the tall, good-looking man opposite her, she wondered how far his
love was influenced by the Tyssen money, and whether Ella suspected it.

Mrs. Nichols stood up. 'We'll have coffee in the drawing- room and discuss the
plans for the party.'

'There's nothing to discuss,' Alvin Tyssen said. 'I've already made all the
arrangements. All you need do is give me your guest list.'

Carolyn marvelled at the way Mrs. Nichols hid her disconcer-tion. 'How kind of
you, Alvin. I'll give it to you before you go.'

Coffee in the drawing-room could, by no stretch of the imagination, have been

called a social affair. Mrs. Nichols played the gracious hostess, but Jeffrey and
Ella sat together on the settee talking in undertones, and Alvin took his usual
place in an armchair and smoked in silence. Carolyn shivered with cold and
drew a small pouffe as close to the fireplace as she could get.

'You'll set yourself alight one day,' Alvin said unexpectedly. 'Is it the fashion to
wear such flimsy clothes in Canada?'

'I haven't any warmer ones. At home I mostly wore uniform.'

'There's no reason why you can't buy what you want,' Mrs. Nichols said coldly.
'You have the money to do so.'
There was an awkward silence, broken by Ella who glanced nervously at Mrs.
Nichols before speaking.

'Did you wear a proper nurse's uniform in the orphanage?'

'Yes.'

'Where were you born?' Alvin Tyssen asked abruptly, the tone of his voice
making Carolyn feel she was at an inquisition.

'In Toronto. But my parents were English. They were killed in a plane crash and
I lived with an uncle until he put me in an orphanage.'

'You didn't have much of a life,' Ella said sympathetically.

'I was very happy,' Carolyn replied. 'Miss Williams—the Warden—was like a
mother to me.'

'Is that why you decided to return there after you finished your training in
hospital?'

'I guess so.'

'Surely you could have earned more doing another job, Mrs. Kolsky,' Alvin
Tyssen said.

'For heaven's sake, Alvin!' Ella exclaimed, 'why don't you call her Carolyn?
Every time you say Mrs. Kolsky I think of Rosemary and Peter!'

'Don't be tactless, darling,' Jeffrey said, 'it's not like you.'

A faint smile lifted the corners of Alvin's mouth. 'My sister's never tactless—
only deliberate. I'm sorry I make you think of Rosemary and Peter, my dear, but
I can assure you it doesn't worry me any more. The past is finished.'

'Rosemary was my daughter,' Mrs. Nichols said in an unexpectedly harsh voice.

'The past is never dead for a mother.'

For the first time Carolyn saw Alvin look disconcerted. He made a placatory
movement towards Mrs. Nichols, and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly
gentle. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.' He looked at Carolyn and used her
to change the conversation. 'You must call me Alvin.'

'Of course,' she replied, 'I never think of you as anything else.'

That night in bed she remembered Jeffrey's remark about her clothes and
accepted the fact that his sarcasm had been justified. She could not go on
without adding to her wardrobe. Living in Royston Manor as Piotr's guardian
brought its own particular responsibilities, and though she did not consider she
had the right to spend any of the money on herself, she nonetheless had to look
as well as act the part. She herself might find her position incongruous, but she
was still treated as the Lady of the Manor by everyone in the village.

All correspondence from local tradesmen was now addressed to her and, after a
few bitter remarks from Mrs. Nichols, it had been accepted. Carolyn had tried
not to cross swords with the woman in the past few weeks and had managed to
obtain—more for Piotr's sake than anyone—a surface relationship with her. But
the dislike was still there: Jeffrey's remark tonight proved it. However, she would
use it to advantage. The income from the trust was available to spend, and not to
do so was stupid and childish.

Having made up her mind, Carolyn acted quickly, and the following morning
asked Mrs. Nichols where to go to buy some clothes.

'To Darien,' came the prompt reply. 'He's the best man in London.'

'Wouldn't that make him pricey?'

'You can afford it!'

'Yes,' Carolyn said gently, 'so I can. Thanks for reminding me.'

Determined not to waste time—as though fearing that to linger might cause her
dutch courage to ebb—Carolyn went to see Darien in London the following day.
His salon was in Grosvenor Street, in a tall, narrow house fronted by elegantly
spiked railings, its silver-gilt door guarded by a grey-liveried commissionaire
who showed her into a marble-floored hall, empty except for urns of flowers
grouped round the walls. To one side a flight of stairs curved up to the first floor
and at the top a girl sat at a silver-gilt desk.
'Can I help you, madam?'

'I'd like to see Mr. Darien.'

'Monsieur Darien is very busy. Do you have an appointment?'

'No. But I have been sent here by Mrs. Nichols.'

'Mrs. Nichols?' 'Yes. And Miss Tyssen.'

Respectful recognition dawned. 'I'll tell Mr. Darien you're here. Please wait a
moment.'

Within a moment she reappeared in front of Carolyn again, all charm and
friendliness. 'Please go straight through to the salon. Mr. Darien will be with you
right away.'

Carolyn walked into a large room, close carpeted in silver- grey, with a large
silver candelabrum hanging from the ceiling.

'I'm so sorry to keep you waiting.' A grey satin curtain at the far end was drawn
back and a man stepped from behind it. 'I am Darien,' he said, 'and you are
———————————— ?'

'Mrs. Kolsky.'

'I understand you are a friend of Miss Tyssen?'

'It was really Mrs. Nichols of Royston Manor who sent me here.'

Darien nodded. 'How can I be of help?'

'That must be obvious,' Carolyn said candidly.

'It is.' He dropped his effusive manner. 'Sit down and we will have a little talk.'
He watched as she perched gingerly on a silver-gilt chair. 'I like to study my
customers carefully. The type, you understand, is of infinite importance. I will
consider you. Do not take any notice of me.'

He appeared to go into a trance and Carolyn, trying to hide her amusement,

studied him in turn. He looked more like an athlete than one who had made his
name and fortune as a brilliant designer. He was so tall and broad that he
dwarfed the spindly furniture not only with his bulk, but with his personality. His
dark hair was streaked with grey, but his skin had a shiny, unlined look and his
hands, long and pale with delicate thin fingers were those of an artist.

'I have it!' he exclaimed. 'Excuse me while I speak to the models.'

He disappeared and several minutes elapsed before he returned.

'I am showing you the clothes which I consider your type. But naturally, if you
have anything else in mind we will be delighted to make it for you.'

'I'd rather rely on your taste,' Carolyn replied. 'That's why I'm here.'

'Excellent. I wish all my clients said the same!' A curtain swished back and he
moved aside. 'The first ones are for the afternoon,' he explained. 'After that, you
will see suits, coats and evening dresses.'

For the next hour Carolyn was shown so many outfits that she lost count, and by
the time the final dress appeared her memory was a blur of magnificent colour
allied to exquisite cut.

'Well, Mrs. Kolsky,' Darien asked as the last model disappeared, 'have you seen
anything you like?'

'I like everything!' she answered. 'That's the trouble!'

'On the contrary. Now I know you agree with my taste there will be no trouble!'
He caught her arm and propelled her through the curtained alcove to a row of
cubicles. 'Madame Angele will bring some things for you to try. You are the
same size as one of our models, so there'll be no problem. If you do not like
anything when it is on you, say so.'

He stepped out, and the perfumed vacuum left by his disappearance was filled by
the arrival of a middle-aged woman with grey hair and a delicate pink
complexion. She carried a leaf green cashmere dress over her arm and helped
Carolyn take off her navy one as reverently as though she were removing
coronation robes. Silently she watched as Carolyn swung round to look at herself
in the mirror, half smiling as she heard the exclamation of pleasure.
'It is beautiful, no?' she enquired in accented English.

'It is beautiful, yes!' Caroline laughed. 'The most beautiful dress I've ever worn.'
She moved slowly, delighted by the way the skirt rippled and the bodice clung
lightly yet revealingly to her breasts.

'It's called Simply Sophisticated,' Madame Angele added. 'An apt name, don't
you think?'

'It sure is. I'd never have thought I could look like this. What is there about it?'

'Cut. It makes the dress. You must have it: it is exactly you. I will call Monsieur
Darien.'

The couturier came in and he and the vendeuse conversed in rapid French.
Carolyn followed the conversation perfectly, and in the middle of the discussion
interposed a remark which made Darien stare at her in delight.

'There was a French-Canadian nurse at the orphanage where I lived,' she

explained.

'So?' He smiled. 'We will have to be careful what we say in front of you,
otherwise you will learn all our secrets!'

'All I'm interested in is the price,' she said bluntly.

'We are expensive,' came the answer. 'But worth every pound! If you are not
satisfied with the clothes we make for you, we will take them all back.'

'All?' Carolyn hedged.

'You need an entire wardrobe, naturellement.'

'I'm not sure I can afford it.'

'Women who are recommended here are not poor. Otherwise Mrs. Nichols would
not have sent you.'

Carolyn conceded the point. 'Very well, send me a selection of the things you
feel I need. A few afternoon dresses and some evening ones—suitable for dining
in the country—and two suits and a coat.'

'A perfect choice,' he agreed. 'As your measurements are exactly like those of our
top model, we will be able to have some things ready within a few days. And the
one you're wearing, you can take with you—it only needs a little tightening in
the waist.'

'Do I get the models at a discount?'

'Of course! But only because I have a feeling you will be one of my best
customers.' He stepped back through the curtain. 'The fitter will be with you as
soon as she's finished with another client.'

Left alone, Carolyn sat on a chair to wait. There was a swish of curtains and
voices were audible from the adjoining cubicle. Madame Angele was obviously
with the client and Carolyn made herself comfortable to wait. With only a heavy
satin drape separating the fitting rooms it was impossible not to hear the
conversation. Besides, it was amusing to listen to Madame Angele murmur
appreciatively as the client stepped in and out of various dresses. After the fourth
one Carolyn lost count. She had now been waiting over half an hour and decided
not to wait any longer. She took off the green dress and put on her own.

'Enfin!' Madame Angele said triumphantly next door. 'It is finished.'

The curtain swished again and Monsieur Darien's voice was heard.'Bonjour, Mrs.
Anderson. You are satisfied, I hope?'

'Very much,' came the answer, 'but I was well recommended to you. I usually go
only to Balenciaga, but at the moment I particularly want to stay in London.'

'I hope you will be equally satisfied here. If you come in for another fitting at the
end of the week these can all be ready by the end of the month.'

'I must have the red evening dress in two weeks. I need it for something special.'
The soft voice was husky with its own pleasure. 'Something very special.'

'Then it will be ready,' Darien said. 'When a woman says "something special" we
will always try to assist.'

'How wise,' came the answer.

'If Madame could let us have a reference ..

Madame Angele intervened. 'It is the custom, you understand?'

'I understand,' the woman drawled. 'My account is to be sent to Mr. Alvin Tyssen
—at his Park Lane address.'

Carolyn waited to hear no more. Hastily putting on her coat, she went through
the Salon to where the receptionist sat in the hall. 'Tell Monsieur Darien I
couldn't wait any longer. Send the green dress by post and let me know when I
should come up for my other fittings.'

'I'm sure the green dress will be ready in a moment,' the receptionist said
hurriedly. 'If you'd wait for just——- '

'No, I can't!' Not pausing for an answer, Caroline sped down the stairs to the
street. She was trembling with unaccountable anger and chided herself for being
a fool. Surely she knew enough about the world not to have expected a normal,
unmarried man to live a life of celibacy? Rosemary had run away from Alvin
Tyssen seven years ago and it was obvious that love—no matter how deep—
could not last for such a length of time. Yet what had he put in its place? she
thought angrily. A liaison with the sort of woman who saw no shame in flaunting
the fact that she was being kept!

The sound of the soft drawling voice was so loud in her ears that she did not hear
the honking of a hooter, and had to jump smartly back on to the pavement to
avoid being hit by a taxi. The shock brought her to her senses and when she
started to walk again she was able to laugh at herself for being upset by other
people's moral code. It was no business of hers what Alvin chose to do with his
life, nor with whom he chose to spend it. She wished she had managed to catch a
glimpse of Mrs. Anderson and wondered what sort of person would agree to be
mistress to a man who, though free to marry her, had not chose to do so. Yet
though it was comparatively easy to fit a picture to the self confident, purring
voice, it was impossible to imagine Alvin Tyssen as anyone's lover. How could
that cold, precise voice whisper words of passion, or the blank, pale face warm
to any feeling of emotion? But he was rich: fabulously so, and that would no
doubt make up for lack of many other things.

'Hey there, look where you're going!'

Carolyn stopped and stared into the bearded face of Derek de Mancy. 'I'm sorry, I
didn't see you.'

'So it appears! You almost knocked me down. Paying me back in my own coin, I
expect!'

She smiled. 'I didn't think I'd see you in London today.'

'I had to see my agent about a commission he had for me.' He glanced at his
watch. 'If you're not in a hurry, how about having lunch with me? I was going to
the Coq d'Or!'

'Isn't that rather exclusive?' 'I can afford it,' he grinned. 'I've just been asked to
paint an old lady who wants every diamond she's got put in the picture. And will
that cost her a bomb!'

'I wasn't wondering if you could afford it,' she admitted, 'but whether I was
dressed properly!'

'You're nothing if not honest,' he smiled, 'but with your looks you could go into a
restaurant wearing a sack and they'd still beg you to come back!' He put his hand
under her arm and beckoned a passing taxi, his actions stifling any further
protest she might have made.

In the restaurant Carolyn looked around her with interest, recognising various
celebrities who, until that moment, had merely been names to her. 'Sometimes I
can't believe I'm really in England,' she admitted. 'I keep thinking that one day
I'll wake up and find it's all a dream.'

'That's what Piotr's grandmother would like to happen too,' he said.

Diplomatically she made no comment and stared intensely at the menu, relieved
when the waiter came up to take their order.

Over the meal he kept her amused with stories of his student days at an school,
the bohemian atmosphere so different from her own confining upbringing that
for the first time she knew a sense of loss for the carefree days of youth that had
never been hers.

'You make everything sound such fun,' she said wistfully.

'Only because time blurs the sharp edges,' he replied. 'It's not much fun being
hungry in a sleazy bedsitter in Notting Hill Gate.'

'Were you hungry?'

'Loads of times! That's why I'm such a ferocious worker now. No matter what I
have to do, I'm determined not to go back to the one meal a day lark. I'd rather
take a job as a commerical artist!'

She burst out laughing. 'Is that so bad?'

'A fate worse than death,' he said cheerfully, and leaned forward across the table.
'I'd like to paint you, my dear Carolyn.'

'Whatever for?'

'Because you're beautiful.'

She blushed. 'Nonsense!'

'It's true. I know exactly the sort of portrait I'd do. Please say you'll sit for me?'

His tone was so persuasive that she heard herself agreeing before she could give
it any serious thought.

'That's marvellous,' he exclaimed. 'I'll start this week.'

'I hope I can afford it!'

He stared at her in silence for a moment. 'I wasn't planning to charge for it,' he
said slowly. 'It will be a reason for seeing you.'

'You needn't paint my portrait in order to see me.'

'If I'd known that, I wouldn't have offered,' he grinned. 'But it's too late now. So
you'll have the best of both worlds—me and a portrait of yourself!'

It was late afternoon by the time they returned to the station, and Carolyn was
glad to relax in a corner seat and think over the events of the day. Her strongest
memory was of astonishment that Alvin Tyssen should have a mistress, and she
wished that her unreasonable irritation at discovering it had not prompted her
precipitate flight from Darien's. At least she should have satisfied her curiosity
and seen what the woman looked like!

'What are you thinking about?' Derek asked suddenly. 'You look like a nanny
getting ready to smack her charges!'

She laughed. 'That was the last thing in my mind! As a matter of fact I was
thinking how old-fashioned I am.'

'You?'

'Yes. I didn't realise it until today.'

'Why only today?'

She hesitated and then decided that discretion was better than truth. 'Probably
because it was my first visit to London. It made me realise how small Toronto is
by comparison and what a provincial life I've led.'

'That's nothing to be sorry about. Think of all the new things ahead of you.'

'I am. And I'm scared to death!'

'What rubbish! It's far better to be naive than blase. There's nothing worse than
meeting a woman who thinks she knows all the answers.'

'That's only your opinion,' she parried. 'Most men like their women
sophisticated.'

'Only young men,' Derek said. 'Mature ones like a woman they can teach.'

The glint in his eyes decided her not to continue with the conversation, and she
leaned back against the dusty moquette seat and closed her eyes. But the thought
of Alvin Tyssen and the woman for whom he bought clothes still teased at her
mind, giving the lie to the statement Derek had just made. No one could call the
icy, calm Alvin Tyssen an immature young man, and the little she had heard of
his mistress made her certain that she was not a woman who needed to be taught
about anything.
CHAPTER SIX
Two days after her return from London, Carolyn received a call from Derek de
Mancy's sister Margaret, inviting her to come over for tea. It was the first social
invitation she had received since arriving in England, and she was inordinately
pleased to be forced out of her usual daily routine.

'I'll take Piotr back to school and come straight over. Where exactly is your
house?'

'You can't miss it once you get to the shore road. It's the only one with pink
shutters.'

Carolyn replaced the receiver and returned to the small sitting-room where Mrs.
Nichols and Piotr were at lunch.

'I won't be in for tea,' she said as she resumed her chair. 'I've been invited to have
tea with Derek and his sister.'

'The painter?'

'Yes.'

'Jeffrey's quite artistic,' Mrs. Nichols volunteered. 'But only in the amateur class.'

'You mean he paints?'

'No. He composes music: ballads and that sort of thing. He had one published a
few years ago and it was quite a success.'

'Hasn't he written any more?'

'No. Now that he's working for Alvin, he doesn't have the time.'

'What a pity! Doing something creative might have helped him.'

'Helped him?' Mrs. Nichols echoed. 'I don't understand you.'

'It's just that he———- ' Carolyn hesitated and then plunged on: 'It's just that he
seems to have a chip on his shoulder about being a failure.'

'He'd feel an even bigger one if he tried to earn a living by his songs,' his mother
said angrily. 'He doesn't come from a family of talent. My parents were
struggling farmers and my husband's passion was hunting.'

Carolyn was intrigued by the revelation of Mrs. Nichol's background. 'I

imagined you coming from a large house like this.'

'That was my sister-in-law's belief too. She never liked me to discuss my

background. Agatha was nothing if not a snob!'

Embarrassed, Carolyn changed the subject. 'How did you meet your husband?'

'I was second lead in a revue and he came back-stage to see the leading lady. He
bumped into me literally—and that was that!' She sighed. 'If you think Jeffrey's
got charm, you should have met his father.'

'You must have been very happy.'

'I was—in the beginning. But I soon realised that the future he talked about so
blithely belonged to his sister—and the charm he had used to captivate me was
given to any woman with a pretty face.'

'Yet you stayed with him.'

'I had two children to look after. Rosemary took after her father, but Jeffrey…'
The hard voice softened. 'Jeffrey was completely mine. When my husband was
killed, Agatha invited us to live with her. I didn't want to, but Jeffrey was never a
strong child and needed fresh air and special food. The Health Service then
wasn't what it is now!' She laughed bitterly. 'So we came here and we stayed—
while my dear sister-in-law dangled her fortune in front of me like a carrot in
front of a donkey! You can't imagine how I felt when Alvin fell in love with
Rosemary. Once they were married I knew Jeffrey and I could say goodbye to
Royston for ever!'

'And then Ella fell in love with Jeffrey!'

'Exactly. A double victory.' Mrs. Nichols closed her eyes. 'I should have known
the gods were laughing. The rest of the story you know
————————————- '

'Rosemary ran away with Peter, and Mr. Tyssen and his sister left the country.'

'It doesn't sound much when you say it like that,' Mrs. Nichols sighed, 'but it
meant Jeffrey and I were back where we started—except that Agatha was even
more impossible. I know she forgave Rosemary in the end—her will proved that
—but for many years she was even more bitter about it than I was…'

Carolyn felt obliged to protest. 'I don't see why anyone should have been bitter.
After all, Rosemary wasn't a child, and if she fell in love with another man, why
shouldn't she have married him? It would have been far worse to have married
Mr. Tyssen and then found it didn't work.'

'It was the way in which she did it,' came the reply. 'She knew very well that by
jilting Alvin she would ruin things for Jeffrey and Ella.'

'Then Ella is to blame for that. She's not her brother's keeper any more than
Jeffrey is responsible for Rosemary's behaviour.'

'That's a very logical way of putting it,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'but unfortunately
where emotions are concerned, people aren't always logical. By the time tempers
had cooled down it was too late. Ella stayed abroad with her brother and Jeffrey
frittered his time from one job to another. It wasn't until Ella came back and
started seeing Jeffrey again that he settled down to a proper job.'

'Which I'm sure he doesn't like,' Carolyn said bluntly.

'I don't see you in the position of adviser to the family,' Mrs. Nichols' tone was
acid. 'You may control the purse strings, but '

'Must you still be so bitter about it?' Carolyn interrupted. 'The money belongs to
Piotr—your own grandchild. The fact that I'm the trustee is no one's fault except
your own. If you hadn't disowned your daughter, Peter would have put his son in
your care. You can't blame him for the fact that he didn't.'

There was a long silence, finally broken by Mrs. Nichols pushing back her chair
and standing up. 'I'd rather we didn't talk about Rosemary any more. I sacrificed
my independence so that my children could live here and be brought up decently.
I think she owed me something for that.'
'She didn't owe you a lifetime of unhappiness. And that's what it would have
meant if she had married someone she didn't love. Anyway,' Carolyn said
wearily, 'once Jeffrey started to see Ella again there was no reason why you
couldn't contact your daughter. She was as much your child as Jeffrey is.'

'She left me,' Mrs. Nichols reiterated, 'and Jeffrey didn't. And once he started
seeing Ella again I was determined not to do anything to upset it. Agatha knew
how I felt. That's why she wanted Rosemary back—just to spite me.'

'Rosemary was your daughter,' Carolyn burst out. "Yet all you seem to care about
is your son!'

'He has always leaned on me, whereas Rosemary was always independent.'

'Didn't you love my mummy?' Piotr piped. It made both women suddenly aware
that the little boy had been listening solidly to their conversation, and angry with
herself, Carolyn signalled him to leave the table.

'Run along and get your coat, darling, or you'll be late for school.'

Disappointed at being excluded from the conversation, Piotr dawdled slowly out,
and not until the door had closed behind him did Carolyn turn back to Mrs.
Nichols.

'I don't like Alvin Tyssen, but I don't believe he would have tried to stop his
sister seeing Jeffrey, even if Rosemary had come back here.'

'I wasn't prepared to take the risk.'

'So you sacrificed your daughter's happiness for the sake of your son?'

'Yes—if you want to put it that way.'

'There's no other way of putting it,' Carolyn murmured. 'That's probably why
Rosemary didn't come back. Have you never thought that she tried to force
herself to fall in love with Alvin for your sake?'

'No!' Mrs. Nichols said sharply. 'Anyway, if she had considered me she wouldn't
have eloped with Peter.'
'You'll never forgive her for that, will you?'

'I don't know,' Mrs. Nichols said slowly. 'I know I sound a bitter old woman to
you, but you're young and you've no idea the life I've led here. For years I was
dependent on my sister-in- law's charity, and now I'm dependent on yours.'

'I wish you wouldn't put it like that.'

'There's no other way of putting it. For someone who grew up in a hard school,
Carolyn, you're very romantic.'

'I just don't want your resentment against Rosemary to rub off on Piotr.'

'It would never happen.' For the first time there was a softening in Mrs. Nichols'
voice. 'As you're going out for tea, I'll collect him from school; then you needn't
hurry back.'

Carolyn left Piotr at Miss Talbot's and retraced her steps along the lane that led
to the shore. Fields of winter corn stretched on either side of her and in the
distance on the headland, a row of cottages faced the angry breakers that dashed
themselves against the stony beach. This was the part of the coast she liked best,
and she paused on the sand dunes to enjoy the feel of the wet spray on her face
before walking back over the springy grass to the last cottage. An untidy front
garden led up to an unpretentious facade with grimy pink shutters and a front
door that showed more bare wood than paint. She had expected Derek to live in
a bohemian atmosphere and was somewhat disappointed to find it dingy and
depressing. Annoyed at her feeling of snobbery, she quickly rang the bell and
almost immediately it was opened by a grey-haired woman whose thin face
creased into a smile that did not reach her brown eyes.

'Mrs. Kolsky? I'm Margaret de Mancy. I'm so pleased you could come.' The
woman stepped back and Carolyn entered a low-ceilinged living-room filled to
overflowing with furniture and bric-a-brac. A fire burned in the grate and the
woman led the way to it. 'Excuse the state of the place, but we took it furnished
without realising how furnished it was going to be!' 'Will you be staying here
long?'

'It depends. I've been ill. That's why we came here.' Abruptly she offered
Carolyn a packet of cigarettes and then took one herself. 'He'll be here in a
moment, he's cleaning his paintbrushes.'
Hardly had she finished speaking when there was a heavy step outside and
Derek came in. Carolyn had thought him a large man before, but in the small
room he seemed like a giant.

'So the Lady of the Manor has deigned to call at last! I thought we weren't going
to be good enough.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Carolyn said quickly. 'I only saw you a couple of days ago.'

'She's here now,' his sister interrupted. 'Don't frighten her with your temper.' She
turned to Carolyn. 'Derek's so quick in his likes and dislikes that he can't
understand why other people aren't the same.'

'Now you're making her blush, Margaret. Go and see about tea and I'll show
Carolyn my studio.'

Glad to leave the overcrowded room, Carolyn followed Derek up the stairs into
what had obviously been one of the bedrooms. All the furniture had been pushed
against one wall, leaving a working space that was now cluttered with a massive
easel and a table covered with brushes and paints.

'It faces north,' he explained. 'It's the best light for painting.' He moved over to
the easel and turned it for her to have a better view.

'That's me!'

'Not too bad, is it?' he said laconically, 'considering it's from memory.'

'It's wonderful! If you can do this without my sitting for you, I'm dying to see
what you'd do when I'm really here.'

'I'm looking forward to showing you.' His brown eyes gazed intently into hers
and she drew back.

'We'll have to fix a time, Derek. I'd really like to commission you to do a portrait
of Piotr.'

'I want to paint you first. You promised.'

'Will you paint Piotr afterwards?'

'Afterwards I'll do anything you want, my lovely Caro. That's what your stepson
calls you, isn't it?'

Resolutely she avoided his glance. 'It's his pet name for me. No one else uses it.'

'May I?'

'If you like.'

'I'd like to very much,' he said with a soft laugh. 'Especially if you go on
blushing so delightfully every time I say it.' 'I won't blush again,' she said,
determined to stop him flirting with her. 'Now what about some tea? I'm
gasping.'

'Come, my little bird, we'll go down.'

He led the way, and as they reached the bottom step his sister came in, wheeling
a trolley laden with sandwiches and scones.

'My capable sister!' Derek beamed. 'That's what comes of being a nurse!'

'I believe you work in an orphanage?' Carolyn asked.

'I did until I was ill. But I doubt if I'll ever be able to go back.'

'Why not? Surely you'll be better soon?'

'Physically yes, but mentally I can't face the prospect of continual responsibility.'
The woman gave the same peculiar smile as before. 'How can one tell if you're
going to get better? The doctor said my breakdown was from overwork, but even
after three months' holiday I'm still exhausted.'

'There's still two months ahead of you,' her brother exclaimed. 'I'm sure you'll be
better by then.'

'You'll probably feel better when you do start work,' Carolyn said. 'Doing
nothing is making me feel lethargic and dull. Sometimes I'm tempted to leave
Piotr here and take a job during the week.'

'What stops you?' Derek asked.

'Piotr, I suppose. I don't feel I can leave him here alone, even for a few days at a
time.'

'I can understand that,' Margaret de Mancy said. 'Mrs. Nichols looks a real
dragon to me.'

'She's better when you get to know her.'

The woman sniffed disbelievingly. 'I'd rather leave than share a house with
someone like that.'

'I can't turn her out,' Carolyn explained. 'It's as much her home as Piotr's.'

'You're too generous,' Derek interrupted. 'From the gossip I've heard, she and her
son gave you a pretty lousy welcome.'

'Jeffrey's fine now,' Carolyn said stoutly. 'As a matter of fact he's getting engaged
to Ella Tyssen next week.'

'That's enough to sweeten anyone,' Margaret retorted. 'The Tyssens are as rich as
Croesus. What do you think of their house?'

'I haven't seen it yet.'

'It's half a mile along the coast,' Derek spoke from across the room where he had
gone too fetch his pipe. 'It's a fantastic place. Like something from the next
century. I'd give my eye teeth to see the inside.'

'Only the rich are invited to the Tyssens',' his sister said brutally. 'People of that
sort don't have time for anyone without money.'

'Ella isn't a bit like that,' Carolyn said quickly. 'She's sweet and charming.'

'Don't mind Margaret.' Derek sat down and filled his pipe. 'Whenever she knows
I want something, she acts like a hen defending her chick.'

'Because I happen to recognise your talent,' his sister said 'and your best way of
proving it is to meet people who can afford to have their portraits painted.
Wasting your time on village children isn't going to get you anywhere.' She stood
up, piled the dirty cups and saucers on a tray and stalked out.
Not until the door had swung shut behind her did Derek speak. 'Don't mind
Margaret's temper. She gets annoyed because I haven't reached the top. Not that
it worries me. As long as I've enough to eat and can afford to buy the paints I
want, I'm happy. The main reason I'd like to get somewhere is because of her. At
least I could help her and see she didn't have to work any more. She was
wonderful to me when I was a kid, and now she's the one who needs looking
after.'

'Was she very ill?'

He nodded. 'She should have married and had kids of her own. Looking after
other people's children was the worst thing for her.'

'It's the next best thing if you haven't got any of your own. I loved every minute I
spent working in the orphanage.'

'Because you knew it was only temporary. You never believed you'd end up
spending your whole life there.'

'That's true,' she admitted, and broke off as Margaret de Mancy came back into
the room.

'Why are you sitting in the dark? I'll turn on the lamps.'

Carolyn stood up. 'I must be going.'

'I'll drive you back,' Derek said.

'There's no need. The walk'll do me good.'

'I'll come with you to the top of the lane.'

Carolyn smiled her thanks and turned to the woman. 'I hope we'll meet again
soon.'

That's up to you. We're always here. It depends how busy you are!'

Ignoring the bitterness in the words, Carolyn said goodbye and waited by the
door as Derek put on his coat. A fierce wind had sprung up and as they breasted
the shore road it hit them with force. He caught her arm and tucked it beneath
his, and in step they walked along the lane.

'You'll like Margaret when you get to know her. Her manner's abrupt, but she's
got a heart of gold.'

'I find it easier to talk to you.'

The wind half carried her words away, but he heard them and bent his head till
the soft, fine hair of his beard brushed against her cheek. 'I can think of
something much better than talking. Remind to tell you some time!'

'It'll be safer if you don't!'

For answer he tucked her arm more firmly beneath his own and strode on at a
pace that had her breathless by the time they reached the crossroads.

'There's no need to come any further,' she said. 'I'll be quite all right from here.'

'Before you go, tell me when I can start your portrait.'

'Any time you like.' She hesitated. 'Look, Derek, I'd be happier if you'd let me
commission it from you.'

'You'll do nothing of the sort. If it's any good when it's finished I'll give it to you
as a present.'

'Then I'll have to repay you some other way.' Suddenly she had the solution.
'Your sister said something about your meeting the Tyssens. If you like I'll see if
I can get you an invitation to Jeffreys engagement party.'

'Forget what Margaret said,' he answered quickly. 'She talks too much.'

'But she's right.'

'Tyssen wouldn't want a penniless artist at his sister's engagement party.'

'You'd come as a friend of mine,' Carolyn said indignantly.

'That's the nicest thing you've said all the afternoon!' Derek caught her close and
gave her a quick hug. 'Let me see you soon, Carolyn. You're the only person I
can talk to around here.'
She gave an embarrassed laugh. 'I thought Englishmen were slow!'

'I'm Irish!'

'That accounts for it, then!' She stopped and held out her hand. 'Don't bother
coming any further. It's a straight road from here.'

'Running away?' he teased.

'Perhaps.' Without giving him a chance to answer she turned and hurried off.

That evening Jeffrey was home for dinner, complaining that he had been
deserted by Ella who had flown to Sweden for a few days to see a great-aunt.

'Are the Tyssens Swedish?' Carolyn asked.

'Their grandfather was. He came here as a chemist and set up a small factory to
produce his own patent medicines. Ella's father started in the chemical field, but
it was Alvin who really gingered things up. He's the genius in the family. A first-
rate bio-chemist with fantastic organising ability. The two rarely go together.'

'I suppose that's why he expects everybody else to be perfect too.'

Jeffrey grinned. 'I can see you don't like brother-in-law Alvin!'

'You're dead right!' Abruptly she changed the subject. 'What do you do at
Tyssen's?'

'I'm a glorified office boy with an outsize salary.'

'Be thankful for it,' Mrs. Nichols said. 'At least it means you'll be able to keep
Ella—which you certainly wouldn't be able to do with your music.'

'That's only your opinion!' He turned to Carolyn. 'Mother's taking a crack at my

so-called musical talent. She hasn't much faith in it.'

'Have you?' Carolyn asked.

'I'm prejudiced,' he said lightly. 'I'd rather let you judge for yourself.

'Carolyn doesn't want to waste her time,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'and neither do you.
Composing won't get you anywhere. The sooner you forget it, the better.'

'I don't see why, I've enough time on my hands at the office. No one would give
a damn if I brought in a piano and started playing.'

'How do you think Alvin would react?'

'He doesn't expect me to work. He just gave me the job as a face-saver. At least
he'll be able to say he's got a brother-in-law who's working for his living!'

Mrs. Nichols set her spoon down sharply. 'Haven't you any pride?'

'Pride in what? We've been parasites all our lives—I don't see that as something
to be proud of.'

Mother and son glared at each other across the table, and though Carolyn
despised everything they stood for she could not help feeling a sneaking
sympathy for Jeffrey.

'Are all the plans settled for the engagement party?' she asked tactfully.

Jeffrey turned and looked at her blankly. Then his brow cleared. 'Oh yes. It's all
fixed. A small affair, though. A mere two hundred couples!'

'Alvin must have a large house.'

'Wait till you see it.'

Trying to picture him in his home was an impossibility that increased her
nervousness, making the next question so embarrassing to ask that only her
promise to Derek prevented her from changing the subject: 'Do you—do you
think he would mind if I asked a friend to come along?'

'I didn't know you knew anybody here well enough to invite,' Mrs. Nichols said
pointedly.

'It's a man I met in the village. He's a painter.'

'Sounds interesting,' Jeffrey interposed. 'Perhaps he'll do some lightning sketches

of the guests 1'
Carolyn's sympathy for Jeffrey vanished, but she was prevented from replying
by Airs. Nichols, who unexpectedly said: 'If you mean Mr. de Mancy, he
happens to be an R.A.'

'In my book that stands for ruddy awful 1' Jeffrey pushed back his curly brown
hair. 'Still, you always were a sucker for artists—as long as they're outside the
family of course. I guess it's a hangover from your chorus days.'

Mrs. Nichols paled, but her response was stifled by the sudden entry of the maid
who breathlessly whispered that Mr. Tyssen had arrived and was waiting in the
drawing-room.

Jeffrey glanced at his mother. 'He never said anything about coming over
tonight. I wonder what's up?'

'The best way to find out is to go and see.' As she spoke Mrs. Nichols led the
way across the hall, paused momentarily at the drawing-room door as though
mentally girding her loins, and then walked in.

'Alvin, my dear, what a lovely surprise! We weren't expecting you.'

'I came to collect some papers from Jeffrey. He forgot to leave them for me.'

Jeffrey went hurriedly to the door. 'I put them in my briefcase by mistake. I was
going to telephone you after dinner.'

'Would you bring me the table plans for the party at the same time?' Mrs. Nichols
asked. 'I'd like Alvin to take them to Ella. They're on the desk in my bedroom. If
not, you'll find them in the top drawer, under some notes about the—— '

'It'd be better if you looked for them yourself,' Jeffrey interrupted. 'Then you
won't blame me if I can't find them.'

Mother and son left the room together and Carolyn shrank back in her chair and
wished herself miles away. It was the first time she had seen Alvin since her visit
to Darien and, remembering the husky voice of the unseen Mrs. Anderson, she
stared at him curiously. How aloof and reserved he looked, sitting in the straight-
backed chair. One leg was crossed over the other, the brilliant patent shoe
catching the light of the lamp behind him. His arms rested negligently over the
chair, his narrow hands accentuated white against the black of his dinner jacket.
His face was half turned away from her and she saw the sweep of silver-fair hair
brushed back close and smooth against his head.

Suddenly he turned and looked at her fully. 'How is your stepson settling down
at school?'

'Very well. He knows all the letters of the alphabet and can count up to thirty!'

'A mathematical genius!'

'It's excellent for a child of his age.'

'You needn't jump to his defence.' A faint note of amusement crept into the dry
voice. 'I wasn't maligning the boy.'

She turned away angrily, affording the man opposite a view of her small, straight
nose and the sweet, childish curve of her mouth. The clock on the mantelpiece
chimed nine, but she did not lift her glance, keeping it firmly fixed on the grate
where a coal glowed warmly.

'Do you find the flames so interesting?' Alvin asked.

Forced to look at him, she did so. 'I'm sorry. What would you like to talk about?'

'That remark's enough to kill any conversation!'

'I'm sure you're never at a loss for words, Air. Tyssen.'

'On the contrary, Carolyn,' he said stressing her name, 'I often find it difficult to
say what I mean.'

'You've never acted that way with me. When I remember some of the things you
said my first evening here, I could still blow my top!'

He stood up and instinctively she clenched her hands. He noticed the movement
and a faint smile played around his mouth.

'Do you still find our climate so cold?' he asked conversationally.

'It's not the climate that's cold—it's the people!'

'Surely not? They dress far more warmly than you!'

'Don't play with words. You know exactly what I mean.'

Silently he bent, picked up a pair of tongs and methodically replenished the fire
with coal, hanging the tongs back carefully on the brass stand in the hearth. 'You
should get yourself some woollen clothes. Then you could get rid of your hot
temper.'

Here was the chance she had been waiting for. 'I've already ordered some at
Darien's. I believe he's very good.'

'He is. Most of my friends—female ones, I mean—go there. I presume you've

ordered some lavish creation for the engagement party?'

'Darien's dreaming up something special.' She pushed back her hair with a
nervous gesture. 'He says I'm the same size as one of the models, so he won't
have to make any adjustments.'

'You have a model's figure,' Alvin agreed, 'but not quite the same poise.'

'I'm sorry I don't please you.'

'You don't displease me. Too much poise can be artificial.'

'I guess so. I never had much time for pretending. I've always had to work too
hard.'

'This life must be completely different for you. What does it feel like to have
nothing to do and as much money to spend as you want?'

'The money isn't mine,' she retorted. 'I went to Darien because Mrs. Nichols said
I must live up to my so-called position. And as for having nothing to do
——————————- ' She stopped for an instant and then burst out: 'It's as
boring as limbo!'

'Come, come, I can't swallow that one. Most of your sex are only interested in
two things: money to spend and the chance of turning some man into a
simpering idiot!' He opened his cigarette case. 'So many women admire strength
in a lover, yet choose weakness in a husband.'
'Having had neither, I can't enter into the argument.'

He offered her a cigarette and she took it. 'Aren't you forgetting your own
marriage?'

'It wasn't a marriage of choice. And it wasn't a real marriage either. You know
yourself why I became Peter's wife.'

Alvin flicked open his lighter and though she tried to see the expression in his
eyes they were narrowed and distorted by his glasses.

'Kolsky was the type to appeal to someone like you—he was a man you could
mother.'

'Miss Williams said that—she's the Warden at the orphanage.'

'An astute person!'

'I'm not sure I agree—about Peter, I mean. I like lame ducks, but I wouldn't
marry one from choice. Anyway, what's wrong with wanting to mother
someone? It's a normal female instinct. Or perhaps you prefer your women to be
tough?'

He took out a spotless handkerchief, removed his glasses and began to polish
them. 'I like a woman to be warm and malleable, and with sufficient intelligence
to see the trees as well as the wood.' He stopped polishing his glasses and looked
at them reflectively. 'It's a pity we didn't meet before you knew Kolsky. You
might have been less prejudiced if you'd seen me first.'

'I've never seen you.'

'What do you mean?'

'You always wear glasses and they hide your expression. It makes your face into
a mask.'

'My eyes are bad,' he said simply. 'I can't see without them.' He turned in her
direction. 'At the moment I can't see you at all.'

'No kidding!'
'No kidding.' He came over to her. 'Look at me, Carolyn. I'm giving you a chance
to see me properly.'

She lifted her head and did as he asked. For an instant she felt nothing, then
suddenly she had the impression she was seeing him as a human being for the
first time. Robbed of the thick, impersonal lenses, his eyes were startling: much
bigger than she had expected, with a strange luminous quality that made him
appear strangely vulnerable. The pupils were dilated, but as she watched them
they narrowed, the irises emerging like bright discs of amber, framed with long,
curling lashes of the same rich colour.

'They're beautiful,' she said involuntarily, and could instantly have kicked
herself. 'I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to say a thing like that.'

'Not at all.' His voice had lost its precision and was unusually gentle, and the
fingers twirling the silver-rimmed spectacles were still. His eyebrows, fine and
delicately arched, had the texture of sable and she felt an irresistible urge to
touch them. The eyelids, faintly blue and fragile, closed for a moment and he
blinked rapidly several times.

'With your permission I'll put them on again.'

'Of course.' As he slipped his glasses into place the illusion of tenderness was
gone and she turned away. 'Have you always worn them?'

'Since I was a child. I was unable to play games because of it. It didn't add to my
happiness at school.'

'Children can be pretty brutal,' she admitted.

'I know. With my glasses on I couldn't fight them, and without my glasses I
couldn't see them.' Although he smiled it did not counteract the pathos behind
his words. 'It was disconcerting not to see a blow coming and then suddenly be
on the receiving end of it.'

It was all too easy to imagine him as a small, defenceless child, and she did not
like the sympathy it aroused in her. 'What did you do about it? I can't imagine
you submitting docilely to anything unpleasant.'

'I learned judo!'

She caught her breath. 'I might have known no one could get the better of you.'
'Would you prefer it if they did?'

'I wasn't thinking in terms of "they",' she said hesitantly. 'I was thinking in terms
of—of me.'

'Do you think you could get the better of me?'

'Only when you take off your glasses.'

'I might even do that, Carolyn.'

He moved towards her again, and embarrassed, she moved back and knelt down
to rake the fire.

'It'll burn out if we're not careful,' she said quickly. 'I've been so used to central
heating I forget to put coal on the darned thing.'

She jabbed vigorously with a poker and a red-hot cinder shot out of the grate and
fell among die folds of her skirt. There was an instant smell of burning and she
jumped back with a scream.

Instantly Alvin pulled her to her feet and flattened his hand against the flame
smouldering at the hem of her dress. When he released the material a few
charred fragments fell to the ground and with his other hand he picked up the
tongs, lifted the cinder from where it had fallen on the carpet, and deposited it
back on the fire.

'You should be more careful,' he said slowly. 'You might have hurt yourself.'

Trembling, she sank on to a chair. 'That's the understatement of the year!'

'I'll get you a drink. You look pale.'

'I'm all right, thanks.' She looked at him for the first rime. 'But what about you?
You crushed out the flame with your hand.'

'There wasn't time to get a bucket of water.' As he spoke he took a white silk
handkerchief from his breast pocket and wound it tightly round his palm.
'Let me see it,' she said quickly.

'Don't worry. It's nothing.'

'But you must have burnt the skin. Please show it to me. I'm a nurse.'

He slipped his injured hand into the pocket of his dinner jacket. 'Don't fuss,
Carolyn. I'm all right.'

'You can't be! If you——— ' she stopped and turned away as

Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey came back into the room.

For the next half hour Alvin spoke with them as if nothing untoward had
happened, but all the time she was aware that he kept his right hand hidden from
sight, and when he stood up to leave, he still kept it tucked into the pocket of his
jacket.
CHAPTER SEVEN
At the breakfast table the next morning there was a white envelope on Carolyn's
plate containing two invitations for the party, and a note from Jeffrey saying that
if she wanted any more she should let him know.

'What are those white cards?' Piotr asked.

'Invitations to a party.'

'Can I go?'

'No, darling. It'll be too late for you.'

Betty came in with a pot of coffee. 'What about letting me take Master Piotr to
school for you? There's a squalling wind and you'll be blown off your feet.'

'It'll do me good to get a breath of air.'

'You ought to learn to drive, ma'am. Miss Agatha used a carriage and pair—more
like a stagecoach it was.'

'What happened to it?'

'Mrs. Nichols sold it to a film company a week after she died.'

'And the horses?'

'Sold to a farmer. They don't work, though. Live a lovely, lazy life.'

'I'd like a pony,' Piotr said.

'Mr. Tyssen's got some wonderful horses.' Betty poured out the coffee and passed
it across the table. 'If you did want to get a pony for Piotr he'd be the best one to
advise you.'

'I should have thought his eyes were too bad for riding.'

'Lordy, he doesn't ride himself! Bertie Rivers is his jockey. Cook and I often
listen to the radio when one of Mr. Tyssen's horses is running. That's the only
time we have a bet.'

'You mean he has a racing stable?'

'The biggest in the country. In Surrey somewhere. Nothing like his house here,
though. That's really something.'

Piotr slid down from his chair. 'Shall I wear my Wellingtons, Caro?'

'More likely a bathing suit if this rain keeps up!' She waited till the door closed
behind him. 'How does he behave when he's in the kitchen with you and Cook?'

'Perfectly, madam. A bit serious for his years, of course, but I expect that's
because he's half Polish. Not that Mr. Kolsky was like that when he first came
here. Always laughing at the top of his voice he was—until he fell in love with
Miss Rosemary.

Then he walked round with a face like a tombstone.' Betty put her hand to her
mouth. 'There I go putting my foot in it again!'

'That's O.K.' Carolyn stood up. 'I'd better help Piotr or we'll never get him to
school.'

Carolyn deposited Piotr at Miss Talbot's cottage and decided to take a short cut
back to the house. But the path had been cut through bracken and was more
overgrown than she had anticipated, and by the time she entered the house her
skirt and mackintosh were so wet that she decided it would be safe to soak away
the chill in a hot bath. As she lay in the water she thought of all the disused
rooms around her, and wondered at the cost of maintaining such an
establishment. It might have been feasible for Aunt Agatha to live in such feudal
splendour, knowing her days were numbered, but she herself was appalled at the
idea of living here until Piotr was old enough to decide what to do for himself.
The house might be called Royston Manor, but it was more in the nature of a
rambling Victorian barn, and in the past two months she had been confronted
with bills which she considered enormous. The solicitor had been right when he
had said the annual income from Peter's inheritance would be swallowed up in
the normal cost of living in Royston Manor.

'Not that anyone could call this normal,' she thought, as she stepped out of the
bath and towelled herself vigorously. 'I must either have a word with Mr. Arnold
or tackle Mrs. Nichols.'

She slipped into a pair of slacks and blouse, brushed back her long blonde hair—
still damp at the ends—and hurried downstairs. She opened the door of the
drawing-room and found Mrs. Nichols and Derek sitting in front of the fire.

'Hello, Carolyn!' He stood up and beamed at her. 'I was just passing and dropped
in to have a word with you. I hope you don't mind.'

'Not at all.'

She moved over to the fireplace and sat cross-legged on the rug, resting her back
against an armchair.

Mrs. Nichols expression was as condemnatory as a verbal admonition, and

Carolyn was forced into a semi-apology.

'I've always loved sitting on the floor—especially in front of an open fire.'

'Being relaxed suits you,' Derek commented. 'I'll paint you in an informal way.
You haven't forgotten you've promised to sit for me?'

'Of course not. I'm looking forward to it.'

'I'm ready to start the minute you are.' 'How many sittings will I need—two or
three?'

'Heavens above! Far more than that. You won't be an easy subject.'

'You're joking. I bet I'm the simplest-looking model you've ever had.'

'Deceptively simple. You have the features of a child and the unawakened look
of a woman.'

Carolyn coloured at such frankness and Derek smiled. 'Forgive the bluntness, but
I'm not talking personally. I see you with an artist's eye.'

'Eyewash, you mean!' She grinned, and an imp of mischief prompted her to add:
'I wonder how Mrs. Nichols sees me?'
Mrs. Nichols put down a magazine she had been glancing at. 'I wouldn't use Mr.
de Mancy's terms, but you certainly have a childlike quality.'

'It's the way her hair springs from her head and the beautiful curve of her neck
and shoulders.' Derek bent forward and turned Carolyn's face with his hand.
'You've a child's mouth too, and the same sort of colouring.' He dropped his hand
and sat back in his seat. 'The only thing that alters the concept are your eyes;
they're not childlike at all. That green is far too seductive.'

'Then paint them another colour!'

'On the contrary. It's the child look plus the sex appeal that'll make this portrait
outstanding. Let's fix a date to begin. Will you come to the cottage for the first
sitting? The morning light's best and then perhaps you'll stay to lunch? Margaret
would be delighted.'

It was difficult to envisage Derek's gaunt-faced sister being delighted at

anything, and she shook her head.

'Why don't you come here instead? There are lots of empty rooms we could use.'

'Suits me. Can we start tomorrow?'

'All right.'

'And then every morning for a week,' he went on. 'After that I'll be able to work
on it on my own for a bit.'

Soon afterwards Derek left, promising to return early the next morning to start
work.

'I'm rather looking forward to it,' she said to Mrs. Nichols when they were alone.
'The paintings I saw at his house were remarkable.'

'If he's a good artist he might be able to get some commissions from Alvin's
friends.'

Carolyn reddened and the older woman smiled in an unexpectedly friendly

manner. 'You do give yourself away, my dear. There's nothing to be ashamed of
in trying to help your friends meet people who can bring them work. And I
certainly don't blame him for asking for help. I only wish Jeffrey were more of
an opportunist.' Mrs. Nichols sighed and stood up. 'I'm going in to Chichester.
Would you like to come?'

It was the first sign of hospitality shown her since she had arrived from Canada
and Carolyn accepted with alacrity.

'Can you hang on while I change into something more respectable?'

Mrs. Nichols nodded and Carolyn raced upstairs and put on one of Darien's
outfits: a French navy dress with a white Peter Pan collar and a matching coat.

'You look like a schoolgirl,' Mrs. Nichols remarked as they entered the car.

'Do you think it's too young for me?' Carolyn asked anxiously.

'Not at all. I was paying you a compliment. Most women of twenty-four would
like to be mistaken for teenagers.'

'But treated like women.'

'Naturally!' Mrs. Nichols changed gear smoothly and they moved down the
drive.

Even after so many months in England Carolyn was still uncomfortable in a

small British car, but as they reached the narrow, crowded streets of Chichester
and successfully parked in one of the narrow turnings, she saw the reason for not
having a large unwieldy car.

'If you've anything particular to buy we can go separate ways and meet here in
an hour.'

'I don't need anything, thanks. I'd just as soon go along with you.'

'I've some things to get for Cook and a few odds and ends for myself.'

Mrs. Nichols shopped quickly and competently, and most of the storekeepers
knew her by name and hurried to serve her.

'Agatha always left the purchases to me,' she explained as they returned, arms
laden, to the car. 'But if you'd prefer to do them yourself, just say so.'

'No, thanks,' Carolyn said hastily. 'I'm a sucker when it comes to shopping. I can
be talked into buying anything!'

'Agatha was the same.' Mrs. Nichols skilfully backed out into the main stream of
traffic. 'She believed it was cheaper to buy by the dozen, and she once came
back with twelve loaves of bread!'

Carolyn laughed. 'She sounds as if she were nuts!'

'That's what we thought when we learned about the will.'

Once again the atmosphere was electric with antagonism, and quickly Carolyn
changed the subject.

'Are we going anywhere else from here?'

'I promised to call for Jeffrey. It'll also give you a chance to see the Tyssen
factory. They produce more than a third of the drugs sold in the world today.'
She pointed with her hand. 'The buildings are beginning now. Look on your left.'

Carolyn turned her head and saw a long brick wall that merged into the distant
horizon. They drove beside it for some three-quarters of a mile and stopped at a
barrier guarded by a uniformed officer. As he recognised Mrs. Nichols he saluted
and stepped back, allowing them to move forward along a wide road that
stretched between a towering complex of steel and glass buildings.

'It looks like some space-age city,' Carolyn murmured.

'It's the most modern factory site in the world,' Mrs. Nichols replied. 'Alvin
commissioned a Swedish architect to design it for him.'

'How long has he been in control?'

'Since he was twenty-six. Ten years ago.'

'He seems older than thirty-six,' Carolyn remarked. 'I can't imagine him as a gay
young blade!'
Mrs. Nichols smiled. 'Don't let his calmness fool you. Alvin can be quite a
different person when he wants to be.'

Remembering the sound of the drawling, self-satisfied voice of the woman she
had heard in Darien's salon, Carolyn conceded the point, and at the same time
found herself wondering what sort of a man he would have been had Rosemary
not run away with Peter. Would he still have needed the additional satisfaction of
an illicit love affair, or was he the type of man— all too rare—who would have
found complete happiness with one woman only? It was a question made all the
more intriguing by virtue of its being so difficult to answer, and she was annoyed
with herself for even thinking of it. With an effort she concentrated her gaze at
the large building that loomed ahead of them, amused to see a dark blue pennant
with the gold embroidered words 'Tyssen's Chemicals' fluttering from a flagpole
above the mosaic and glass entrance.

'He's fond of his name, isn't he?' she could not help remarking.

'For propaganda purposes only. An enormous number of people from all over the
world come here to study his methods. During the war, of course, the whole
place was turned over to making munitions.'

'I know. Peter said it caused the death of his mother and sister.'

'That's just the sort of histrionic remark he would have made. All munitions
factories were targets for bombing. You can't blame Alvin for that. He was under
Government orders and he obeyed them.'

It was so logical a statement that it brooked no argument, and Carolyn was

saddened at the knowledge that Peter had never been able to realise it for
himself. At least it would have mitigated his brooding grievance against a man
whom he himself had wronged. Or perhaps that had been the very reason for his
inability to see that Alvin was blameless; perhaps Peter—out of his own sense of
guilt in running away with another man's fiancee—had needed to justify his
action by building up an artificial resentment against Alvin. It was an interesting
supposition which she had no time to consider further, for at this point they
entered the marble lobby and went up in a lift to the top of the building. The
doors opened to disclose a carpeted corridor with executive offices ranged on
either side and they entered the first one and were ushered by a male secretary
into a luxuriously appointed office with panelled walls and black carpet.
Jeffrey came forward from behind a large sycamore desk and kissed his mother
on the cheek.

'You've brought Carolyn! What a pleasant surprise. Has she come to apply for a
job as resident nurse?'

'If you need one,' Carolyn retorted.

'That's for Alvin to decide—but we already have four!' As he spoke he collected

some papers and stuffed them into a briefcase.

'Are you sure it's all right for you to leave so early?' his mother asked.

'Perfectly, Alvin gave me permission himself.' He turned to Carolyn. 'I'm

arranging a surprise musical for the engagement party. There'll be some top
names in the show business world there, and Bobby Martell, the producer, is
coming to the house this afternoon to show me some preliminary set designs.'

'A ridiculous waste of money,' Mrs. Nichols sniffed. 'I can't understand Alvin
agreeing to it. It's most unlike him.'

'Perhaps he believes I've got talent,' Jeffrey said lightly. 'If you had a bit more
faith in me yourself you'd '

A buzzer on his desk interrupted his words and a metallic voice echoed in the
room. 'Mr. Tyssen is on his way to see you, Mr. Nichols. Please wait for him.'

"Whenever he leaves his office,' Jeffrey explained, 'his secretary notifies the
office he's going to so that they can lay out the red carpet.'

Mrs. Nichols gave her son a glance of irritation, but anything she might have
said was curtailed by the door opening to show Alvin on the threshold.

It was the first time that Carolyn had seen him in a lounge suit, and though it
made him look younger, it in no way decreased his air of austerity.

'Good afternoon.' He inclined his head towards them and then looked at Jeffrey.
'I wanted to catch you before you left. You know Biggley's arriving in an hour?'

'Oh, lord! I'd completely forgotten.'

'Since he owns twelve hundred retail chemist shops he's a difficult man to
overlook. You must wait and see him.'

'Of course. I'm sorry I forgot about it.'

Alvin nodded acceptance of the apology and spoke to Mrs. Nichols. 'If you'd like
to wait in reception, Jeffrey won't be long. I'm sorry to inconvenience you.'

'That's perfectly all right, Alvin. We're in no particular hurry.'

'We have to collect Piotr,' Caroline murmured.

'I'll have my secretary telephone your home and arrange it,' Alvin said. 'Anyway,
you should have a nurse for him.'

'I'm the nurse.'

'That wasn't what I meant.'

She did not reply but silently followed Mrs. Nichols out to the corridor. Alvin
led them into a room a few doors away and waited until they had sat down.

'Can I get you something to drink?' he asked. Mrs. Nichols shook her head and
he looked at Carolyn. 'What about you?'

'No, thanks.' She hesitated and then said: 'I'd much rather take a look round if I
could.'

'No one's permitted into the laboratories,' Mrs. Nichols intervened.

'I think we can make an exception with Carolyn,' Alvin's voice was cool. 'I can
spare twenty minutes to take you round myself.'

Carolyn longed to refuse the cold invitation, but he was already walking over to
the door and she had no choice but to follow.

For the next half-hour she was given a glimpse of some of the work that went on
in this small universe. The innumerable laboratories, with white-coated men and
women, the research department with its intricate apparatus and strange-coloured
mixtures that occasionally bubbled with such fierceness she was afraid they
would explode, and the dispensing rooms, hospital unit and spotless canteen.
They they climbed on to a small trolley car and were whisked down a long
corridor to a pair of bronze doors. Alvin pressed a knob and the doors slid back
to disclose a lift. He motioned Carolyn to enter, and as she did so, the doors
closed and they rose swiftly upwards. 'I thought English elevators were slow,'
she gasped.

'This one is American.'

The doors opened to reveal a large room furnished with a delicate Regency table
—which served as a desk—and matching chairs which were grouped in twos and
threes along walls adorned by a blaze of colour that, even to Carolyn's inexpert
eye, spoke of French Impressionism.

'My office,' Alvin said casually. 'What do you think of it?'

'It's out of character.'

'With me or the factory?'

'Both!'

He smiled. 'What did you expect my office to look like?'

'Antiseptic and clinical.'

'You're a poor judge of character, Carolyn. I like strong colours—and women

with similar personalities!'

Silently she walked over to the window. 'I never realised your factory was so
enormous. Do you only make drugs?'

'Oh no. Plastics, paint, synthetic fibres, dyes, cosmetics, scent——- '

'No more!' She swung round. 'You're practically a monopoly.'

'Not quite.'

As he spoke he took out his cigarette case and offered it to her, and only then did
she realise he was using his left hand, and that he was keeping his right one
religiously in his pocket.

'Your hand,' she said quickly. 'Let me see it.'

'It's better. Don't make a fuss.'

'Then why is it in your pocket?'

He shrugged. 'Can't you forget you're a nurse?'

'Not when you behave like a child! Show me your hand.'

Silently he did as she asked and she found herself staring at a mass of white
bandage. For a moment she was speechless. 'You must have been in agony last
night,' she said. 'Why didn't you let me see to it right away?'

'It was just a slight burn.'

'Slight?' Her anguish gave way to temper. 'Of all the damn stupid ways to
behave, your action takes the cake! Don't you know you made it worse not
having it treated at once?'

He leaned against the edge of the table. 'How inconsistent you are,' he drawled.
'One minute you're melting with sympathy and the next you're yelling at me like
a shrike!'

'Because you're such a fool,' she stormed. 'You must have been in agony last
night, and there was no need for it.' She glared at him, but his glasses made it
difficult for her to see his expression, and she gave an exclamation of anger. 'For
heaven's sake take them off!'

'Take what off?'

'Your glasses. I feel as if I'm talking to a mask!' She stopped abruptly, appalled at
her rudeness. 'I'm sorry. I had no right to say that.'

He half smiled, slowly raised his arm and removed his glasses.

For the second time since they had met Carolyn looked at his eyes, and once
again a wave of sympathy engulfed her, making her long to touch the silky
eyebrows and the delicate skin at his temples. He blinked once, twice, then lifted
his hand to put his glasses on again.

'Don't,' she said involuntarily, and put her hand on his arm.

For a long moment they gazed at one another, then deliberately he put his glasses
on the table behind him and moved close to her. Instinctively she drew back, and
he put out his bandaged hand and stopped her.

'Keep still, Carolyn,' he said quietly, 'I'm just as entitled to look at you.'

Golden brown eyes looked into green, then everything blurred as his face came
close and his lips pressed down on hers. For an instant she resisted, but the touch
of his mouth evoked so deep and unexpected a response that she put her arms
around his neck and drew him even closer.

'Alvin,' she whispered. 'Alvin.'

For an answer he drew her closer, pressing her body so tightly against his that
the heavy thudding of his heart seemed to be a part of her. Carolyn lost all sense
of time, experiencing a desire she had never felt before, nor even realised she
was capable of feeling. Words of endearment beat in her brain, but could not be
uttered, and instead she clasped him closer and cradled his head as though he
were a child.

With unexpected suddenness he let her go, retreating to the edge of the desk as
though it was a safety barrier. 'I'm sorry,' he said huskily, 'I had no right to do
that.'

'I'm glad you did. At least it shows we're not enemies.'

'Does it?' He put on his glasses, once more resuming his air of blankness. 'You're
still Peter Kolsky's widow, aren't you? And Piotr still your stepson.'

'What difference does that make?' 'All the difference in the world.'

'I don't understand you. What do you mean?'

He shrugged and turned away from her to press the buzzer on his desk, speaking
into it as he did so. 'Would you please tell Mr. Nichols I'm on my way to his
office.' He released the lever and crossed to the door. 'Coming, Carolyn?'

Cheeks red, she preceded him into the lift, close to him physically yet in reality
worlds apart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
During the drive back home Carolyn mused on Alvin Tyssen's strange behaviour.
One moment he had held her in his arms and kissed her, and the next he had
pushed her away as though the very sight of her offended him. Instinctively she
knew there must be a reason for his behaviour, for he was not a man given to
acting without motive; yet the reason for his dislike was as motiveless to her as it
had been in the beginning.

Did he still believe she had married Peter because she had known of Piotr's
inheritance? The thought made her so angry that had she been driving the car
herself she would have turned it round and driven straight back to see Alvin. It
was time she had it out with him. His dislike of her was something she could no
longer tolerate.

Tears filled her eyes and angrily she blinked them away. Why should it matter to
her what Alvin thought? Why was he so important? It was a question that did not
bear answering, but though she refused to analyse her fear, she could not stop the
feeling of excitement that filled her at the thought of seeing him again.

'I must find out why he dislikes me,' she decided. 'I won't let him keep hedging.
He's got to tell me what's on his mind.'

Mrs. Nichols drew the car to a stop outside the front door, and they had just
climbed the steps when Betty opened the door for them and remained hovering
in the hall.

'Your dresses have come,' she said excitedly to Carolyn. 'Ever so many parcels
there were. Dozens!'

'Whatever has Darien sent?' Carolyn looked at Mrs. Nichols in astonishment. 'I
only ordered a couple of things.'

'He obviously thought you needed a complete wardrobe.'

'I guess maybe by his standards I do!' She moved to the staircase. 'If you'll
excuse me I'd like to go up and have a look.'
'You don't need to be excused, Carolyn,' Mrs. Nichols' voice was as cool as it had
always been. 'You're mistress here and you can do as you like.'

It was an unexpected snub, and Carolyn turned quickly and went upstairs. The
hostility surrounding her was becoming intolerable, and this, coupled with
Alvin's enigmatic behaviour, had become more than she could bear. If only there
was some way of letting Piotr inherit his money without her having to stay in
this house, surrounded by people who hated the very sight of her. Despondently
she entered her bedroom and stared at the dresses which Betty had carefully
unpacked and placed on the bed. The brightly coloured wools wavered and
blurred as her eyes misted with tears of self-pity, and she was angry with herself
for allowing other people's dislike to affect her. As long as she herself believed
she was doing the right thing she must not allow herself to be upset by a dislike
that stemmed only from jealousy.

Yet surely Alvin had no reason to be jealous because she was Piotr's guardian?
The inheritance was a pittance to a man of his wealth. Damn the man! Once
more she was allowing him to penetrate her thoughts. If she didn't take care she
would become obsessed with him.

She walked over to the bed, lifted up one of the dresses and went over to the
mirror. She held the cherry wool up against her body, marvelling at the way the
colour heightened the glow of her skin and brought out the golden glints in her
hair. A tremor of pleasure went through her and she dropped the dress on a chair
and reached out for another one. She must forget that she was surrounded by
people who resented her. There was a fortune of clothes at her feet and she
would be crazy if she did not enjoy every moment ahead of her.

When she entered the drawing-room that evening she was wearing one of
Darien's dresses: a grey-green jersey the same colour of her eyes. Its style was
reminiscent of the Tudor period, with a tight-fitting bodice, matching collar
trimmed with honey-blonde mink and a full, flowing skirt that clung to her waist
and then fell in flowing folds to the ground.

'Well, well,' Jeffrey said in astonishment. 'Fine feathers make fine birds, and
you're the best-looking bird I've seen for years!'

'As complimentary as ever,' she said dryly.

'Don't mind him.' Ella spoke from behind her and Carolyn swung round with an
exclamation of pleasure. Here at least was someone who liked her. 'I didn't know
you were back.'

'I returned this afternoon. I didn't want all the arrangements for the party to be
completed without me.'

'But they are,' Jeffrey said blandly. 'All you have to do is to look beautiful and
docile.'

'I could never look beautiful,' Ella said, 'and it wouldn't be good for you if I were
docile.'

Jeffrey opened his mouth and then closed it again, and Carolyn wondered what
he had wanted to say, and why he had decided not to say it. She glanced at Ella
and noticed that the girl's mouth was trembling. Had she anticipated a denial
from

Jeffrey that she was plain? An assurance that she was loved for herself and not
for her money?

Carolyn looked at Jeffrey again, but his expression was fathomless, and she
wondered whether he felt anything at all for Ella. Poor girl, she deserved so
much more.

'You haven't answered me.' It was Ella speaking, and Carolyn blinked and
realised she had been asked a question.

'I'm sorry,' she apologised, 'my thoughts were miles away.'

'So I see. I just wanted to know if there was anyone you'd like to ask to the
party.'

'I've already asked Derek and his sister. He's doing a portrait of me.'

'What a lovely idea! Is he a Canadian too?'

'No. I met them over here. He's rented a cottage on the shore road. His sister was
Warden in an orphanage up north, but she had to retire because she was ill.'

'I must say you know how to pick your friends,' Jeffrey said. 'I suppose you talk
about children the whole time.'

'It's better than talking about men,' Carolyn replied.

'Ouch!' Jeffrey grinned. 'I think it's time for dinner, don't you?'

As usual the food was extremely simple and Carolyn made up her mind that she
would talk to Cook about it. The woman was certainly capable of doing much
more and there was no reason why, with the money available, they should go on
eating in such a simple fashion. It was time she asserted her authority. Being
diplomatic was getting her nowhere, and if she was still going to contend with
dislike, she might as least do something to merit it. Mrs. Nichols had told her
frequently enough that she was now in charge of the house, and first thing in the
morning she would assert her right.

Coffee was served in the drawing-room, and as soon as it was over, Mrs. Nichols
stood up and asked Ella to have a look at the dress she was going to wear for the
engagement party. 'I bought it locally,' she said. 'I must get used to my new
position.'

'But Alvin told you to go to Darien,' Ella replied.

'I changed my mind. I can't go on accepting your charity.'

'It isn't charity, Mrs. Nichols.'

'It's sweet of you to say so,' Mrs. Nichols answered, 'but I'm afraid it is.'

'That could apply to me too,' Jeffrey said. 'I'm not worth half the salary Alvin
pays me.'

Ella turned scarlet. 'It isn't fair to say that! You're very clever.'

'Not in business, sweetheart. I loathe it. There's no point in hiding the truth.
Alvin pays me what he does because I'm marrying you. If it weren't for that, he
wouldn't even give me house room, let alone make me a director.'

'If there's anything else you'd rather do, you know I can afford to——-'

'Don't say any more!' Jeffrey's voice was sharp, and he swung round abruptly
and walked over to the piano. Ella looked at his back and then stood up.
Uncertainty was visible in every line of her body, and Carolyn was overwhelmed
with pity for her. How dreadful to love a man and feel that he was only marrying
you for what you could give him.

'Come and see my dress,' Mrs. Nichols' voice was as bland as ever, completely
ignoring the exchange of conversation that had just taken place. Without a word
Ella followed the woman from the room and Carolyn sipped her coffee and
fought with herself to keep diplomatically quiet.

Jeffrey remained by the piano as though frozen there, and Carolyn was on a
second cup of coffee when he suddenly lifted up the lid and ran his fingers along
the ivory keys. His expression changed, becoming enwrapped in what he was
doing, and he sat down and continued to play, his eyes closed, his hands moving
over the keyboard as though he was mesmerised.

The music that filled the room was the most beautiful Carolyn had heard: a sad,
haunting melody that made her want to cry, and she was disappointed when he
stopped as abruptly as he had begun and moved away from the piano.

'That was beautiful,' she said. 'What is it called?'

'It hasn't got a name.'

'Who is it by?'

'It's mine.' He looked at her quizzically. 'Surely Mother told you I wrote music?
"A little hobby of Jeffrey's," ' he mimicked. ' "Something to keep him occupied
during the winter evenings." '

'Sounds more than that to me,' Carolyn said. 'If you can write music like that, it
should be more than a hobby.'

'Don't suggest it should be my life's work. Composers are two a penny—that's

why most of them starve.'

'Some of them succeed.'

'Leonard Bernstein,' he shrugged, 'Allen Lerner.'

'That's right. So why not you?'

"You must be joking.'

'I'm not. Play me something else.'

'No.'

She continued to look at him, and with a half murmur of apology he sat down at
the piano again. This time the music he played had the lilting quality reminiscent
of Offenbach, yet with a beauty entirely its own. This was no dull tune thumped
out by a young man with more ambition than talent. This music was beautiful
and overflowing with inventiveness.

There was a final crashing chord and he swung round to face her. 'End of the
performance,' he said. 'Don't ask me to play again.'

'I don't need to.' She set down her cup. 'The musical you're doing for the party…
you're doing it because you're hoping someone will hear it and offer to back you,
aren't you?'

'On the contrary,' he said dryly. 'I'm doing it for fun. I don't believe in fairy
godfathers!'

'It's more than likely someone will hear it—someone important. Alvin must
know lots of people in the theatre.'

'Alvin knows lots of people everywhere, but it's never affected my life.'

'I think you're being dishonest with yourself,' Carolyn said.

'I'm a realist. I grant you I've got talent, but you need more than that if you're
going to succeed. You've got to have luck.'

'How do you know you haven't?'

'How lucky has my life been so far?'

'I wouldn't know,' Carolyn replied. 'You're the best judge of that. All I do know is
that you can't sit back and wait for something to happen. You've got to go out
and make it happen.'

'I haven't got the temperament.'

'I can see that,' Carolyn said. 'You enjoy being a mummy's boy!'

The colour left his face, but when he spoke his voice held no anger 'You
misjudge me, I'm afraid. I was all set to take a chance on my work when my
sister left home. It was a shock for my mother—more of a shock than you're ever
likely to realise. She became ill and I promised I'd stay with her till she was
better.'

'And you remained ever since.'

'I looked after the estate. We assumed it was going to be mine.'

The usual feeling of guilt that Carolyn had experienced every time this remark
had been made, was no longer present, and she was able to take Jeffrey's reply at
its face value.

'To hell with the estate. You were given the talent of being able to create
beautiful music and you didn't do anything with it. That's stupidity and
weakness.'

'All right,' he admitted, 'maybe it was. But now I'm being sensible. I'm marrying
Ella Tyssen. Do you suggest I concentrate on writing a musical and tell her we're
going to live on air pies?'

'She'd rather do that than have you live on her brother.'

Once more the colour left his face, and this time when he spoke there was anger
in his voice. 'You would have made a good Robin Hood. You know where to aim
the arrow.'

Her reply was forestalled by the return of Ella and Mrs. Nichols, and there was
no more chance to talk to Jeffrey alone. But lying in bed that night she thought
about their conversation and wondered what chance of success his marriage to
Ella would have. Could he go on indefinitely with a job he found boring? Would
not the time come when he would turn against Ella? The questions were
unanswerable and were superseded by the knowledge that if Aunt Agatha had
not left Piotr her money, Jeffrey's position would have been completely different
today.

It was the early hours of the morning before she finally fell asleep and she only
awoke when Betty came in with her breakfast and the news that Derek was
waiting downstairs to take her to his cottage.

'He looks a bit impatient,' Betty said in a whisper. 'He keeps muttering something
about wanting to begin while the light is right.'

Carolyn pushed away her tray. 'I'd completely forgotten he was coming,' she
exclaimed, and hurriedly began to dress.

Derek was impatiently pacing the hall as she ran downstairs, but his expression
lightened as he saw her. 'Come along,' he said quickly. 'The light is perfect and I
want to get your colour while I can.'

He bustled her out to his car, wasting no more time in conversation, and she was
amused at the change in his attitude. When it came to work he obviously took
himself seriously. What a pity Jeffrey did not do the same.

Margaret was dusting the living-room when they entered the cottage, but Derek
allowed Carolyn no time to say more than a brief hello before pushing her up the
stairs to the room he had turned into his studio. He had placed a chair by the
window and he motioned her to take it.

'How do you want me to pose?' she asked.

'I don't,' he said sharply. 'Just sit and relax.'

She did as she was told and watched with interest as he took off his jacket, put
on a paint-spattered linen coat and moved over to the easel set up on the other
side of the room. For the first hour he painted in silence, occasionally stopping to
stare at her, his eyes half closed, but at half past eleven, Margaret came up with
some coffee and as he sipped it he started to talk, continuing to do so even when
he resumed painting.

He was an extremely good raconteur, as she already knew, but she learned a
great deal more about his past life as he told her how he had travelled round the
world on a banana boat, then acted as a steward on luxury cruises and finally
ended up by squiring rich American widows on South American holidays.

'Couldn't you find one to marry?' she asked with interest.

'Plenty,' he chuckled, 'but I always felt that when I settled down it would be with
a young wife and not an old one!'

'What made you decide to come back to England?'

'Margaret's illness. From now on it's society portraits and a regular income!'

She laughed. 'Do you think you'll stick to it?'

'I must. Margaret needs taking care of. Her pension isn't enough, you know.'

'You're very fond of her, aren't you?'

He nodded. 'She brought me up. There's ten years' difference between us.'

'I wouldn't have thought so.'

'The beard makes me look older,' he said with a grin. 'Would you like me to
shave it off?'

'That's your decision.'

He put down his brush and peered at her. 'Have you ever been kissed by a man
with a beard, Carolyn?'

'Once,' she said softly. 'By you.'

For a moment he looked disconcerted, then he threw back his head and laughed.
'Begorra, you're right! But that wasn't a proper kiss. I can do much better when I
try.'

He strode over to her and swung her up into his arms in one sharp, swift
movement. Held in his grasp she felt small and defenceless, yet his strength left
her unmoved, and involuntarily she thought of Alvin and the enormous energy
behind the tightly controlled facade.

'Put me down,' she said tensely.

He recognised the nervousness in her voice and set her back on the chair. 'Sorry,'
he said gruffly. 'I didn't mean to upset you. But it's your own fault for looking so
beautiful.'

She reddened and, embarrassed, changed the subject. 'May I see what you've
painted?'

'Not yet. I don't like a sitter to see their portrait until it's nearly finished.'

'How long will that be?'

^Depends how often you come. About ten sittings, I should think.' He stepped
back to the canvas and looked at it, his head on one side. 'I think I'll stop for
today. I'm getting stale.'

'I won't be able to come tomorrow,' she apologised. 'I'm having my hair done in
the morning.' 'Of course—it's the party. I hope you'll let me take you?'

'I'm going with the family.'

'The family now, is it! Does that mean they're treating you better?'

'No. It just means I'm pretending a little more.'

'The old girl still bitter?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'I suppose she can't forget the money you've got.'

'I haven't got the money,' Carolyn said sharply. 'It belongs to Piotr.'

'It amounts to the same thing.' Derek snapped the lid of the paint box into place.
'He's your son legally, and if anything happened to him, the money would be
yours.'

'Why should anything happen to Piotr?'

'I'm not saying it would. I'm just pointing out how Mrs. Nichols thinks.'

'Well she won't go on thinking it for long. If anything happens to Piotr, I'm trying
to arrange for the money to be divided between Jeffrey and his mother. I've
already spoken to my solicitor about it, but it takes time to work out.'

'I hope you'll change your mind before it is worked out. That money is legally
yours.'

'But not morally.'

Derek's bushy eyebrows drew together. "You're a clever girl, Carolyn.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Because you are. As clever as you're beautiful.'

'There must be something about me that makes men talk in riddles,' she said as
she stood up and stretched out her arms.

'Who else talks to you in riddles?'

'Alvin.'

'That's interesting,' Derek's voice was casual, but not casual enough, and Carolyn
knew he was anxious to know more. A slight smile flitted across her mouth and
she enjoyed the knowledge that this big, burly man should be jealous of her.

'What does he say?' Derek asked.

Carolyn shook her head. 'You can't know all my secrets. Women should retain
some mystery.'

'Not that sort of mystery. If he's been rude to you I want to know what he says.'

'I can take care of myself,' she replied. 'I've been doing it long enough.'

'I hope you won't go on doing it for much longer. If I had my way I'd——' He
didn't say any more, but instead took off his jacket and went over to the sink to
wash his hands. 'If you won't let me take you to the party tomorrow night, I'll
have to meet you there. Do I have to book my dances with you?'

'Don't be ridiculous.'
'I'm sorry. It's just that I don't like feeling you're out of reach.'

Again the conversation had taken an unexpected turn, but she was reluctant to let
him pursue it, and she picked up her handbag and coat and went down the stairs.

'I'll drive you back,' he called.

'No. I'd like the walk. I'll see you tomorrow night.'

Carolyn dressed for the engagement party with great excitement. In the morning
she had gone with Mrs. Nichols to have her hair done, but on returning to the
house had brushed out the stiff set and re-done it herself. Betty was taking care
of Piotr, enabling Carolyn to have a leisurely bath and devote the rest of the time
to getting herself ready. It was a luxury as unexpected as it was welcome,
heightened by the sensuous pleasure of putting on an exorbitantly expensive
dress and all the matching accessories which Darien had carefully chosen to go
with it. She was ready earlier than she had anticipated, and on an impulse she
walked down the corridor and knocked on Mrs. Nichols' door.

Mrs. Nichols was putting the finishing touches to her makeup and looked
unexpectedly regal in black velvet. 'You really do look like the mother of the
groom,' she said impulsively.

'Thank you. You look pretty enough to be the bride.'

'Darien is the magician.'

'He's got good material to work on,' Mrs. Nichols said dryly. 'That dress is
exactly you.'

Carolyn moved over to the mirror and looked at herself, acknowledging that the
dress Darien had designed for her was one of the most beautiful she had ever
had. It was in filmy organza in a strange shade of iridescent gold with an
enormous bell skirt from which her tiny waist rose like Venus from a cloud. The
bodice was tight and cut low to disclose her perfect shoulders and the curve of
her breasts, and as she moved the small gold diamante straps on each shoulder
glittered in the light.

'The only thing that spoils your appearance is your hair,' Mrs. Nichols said.
'I combed it out. I hated the way it had been set.'

'Would you like me to do something with it?'

'Could you really?'

Mrs. Nichols picked up a brush and motioned Carolyn to sit down at the dressing
table. With an unexpectedly sure hand she began to brush the gold hair.

With awe Carolyn watched her appearance change as Mrs. Nichols swept her
hair back from her forehead without a parting and coaxed it with comb and brush
so that it fell in smooth waves on either side of her face, giving her the look of a
medieval page-boy. It broadened her forehead, heightened the curve of her
cheekbones and brought her eyes, long and green into prominence.

'What a difference!' Carolyn gasped. 'You're as much of a magician as Darien.'

'I got used to doing my own hair when I was on the stage.'

'Of course. I keep forgetting you had a career of your own.'

'Not much of a career,' Mrs. Nichols said with a slight smile. 'There's no glamour
in being a chorus girl.'

Subtly the mood between them had changed, and reluctant for it to be spoiled,
Carolyn said quickly: 'How about coming with me to show off to Piotr? I
promised we'd go and see him before we left.'

For a moment it seemed as though Mrs. Nichols would refuse, then she nodded
and preceded Carolyn from the room.

The light was still burning in the nursery, and as they walked in Cook stood up
from the bed and closed a story book.

'He likes the same story every night,' she said with a smile. 'He's on to you like a
knife if you miss one single word.'

Carolyn ruffled Piotr's hair and he caught her hand. "You look like a princess,' he
said.
'Thank you, darling, and how do you think Grandma looks?'

Piotr's eyes sparkled and he knelt up on the bed and reached out for the book. 'I
saw a picture of her just now.' He thumbed through the pages until he came to
the story of The Sleeping Beauty. 'There,' he said, and pointed to a picture of the
witch.

Carolyn's cheeks flamed, but Mrs. Nichols burst out laughing. 'Do you think I'm
as ugly as that?'

'You're younger.'

'Well, that's a compliment, anyway.'

'What's a compliment?'

'When you say something nice to someone.'

'I'd compent you if you played with me, but you're always too busy.'

'I'll play with you tomorrow if you like.'

'If you forget I'll come and call you.'

'I won't forget,' Airs. Nichols promised, 'but if I do, you'll know where to find
me.'

'I'll shout for you,' Piotr said, and jumped up on the bed giving a demonstration,
his shrill voice piping the words 'Grannie, Grannie!'

'Enough of that,' Carolyn said sharply, and pushed him down. 'It's late, my boy.
To sleep with you.'

Obediently he lay back on his pillow, but as they left the nursery they could hear
him chanting the words, 'Grannie, Grannie' like a refrain. Mrs. Nichols stopped
at the top of the stairs and listened for a moment.

'It's a nice word,' she said. 'I never heard it until now.'

As they reached the hall Jeffrey came out from the library, his face paler than
usual. 'I'm scared,' he muttered.
'Wait till your wedding day,' his mother said briskly.

'I'm not thinking of the engagement,' he said, 'it's the musical.'

'Don't make a fuss about nothing,' his mother replied. Jeffrey looked at Carolyn
and she gave him a sympathetic smile wondering whether Mrs. Nichols was
being deliberately obtuse, or deliberately determined to see that Jeffrey did
nothing with his talent.

Alvin had offered to send his car and chauffeur for them, but Jeffrey had refused,
a fact which Mrs. Nichols grumbled about as she squeezed into the narrow front
seat.

'You'll have the Rolls when I'm married,' he said with unusual asperity. 'I'll see
you enjoy my money, Mother.'

'There's no reason to be rude,' his mother replied.

'I'm sorry.' He got into the front seat and turned on the engine.

As they moved down the drive Carolyn was conscious of a mounting sense of
excitement. This would be the first time she visited Alvin's home, and she
wondered if it would give her a better understanding of the man.

'His land begins here,' Jeffrey said as though aware of her thoughts.

Carolyn looked out of the window, but could only see a low hedge with fields,
the ploughed ridges silver in the moonlight. Jeffrey swung the car sharply left
and drove straight at a high cedarwood wall, his headlights glowing in the
darkness. He pressed his foot on the accelerator and Carolyn screamed, but even
as she did so the wall slid back to disclose a white, straight avenue that stretched
into the endless distance.

Jeffrey laughed. 'That always fools people!'

'You pig! Why didn't you warn me?'

'I thought you'd guess. It's a pretty standard way of opening doors in America.'

They turned a bend in the drive and Carolyn saw a slender marble tower, its
dome gleaming silver under bright arc lights. Below the tower, curved archways
disclosed inner courtyards, and as the car moved in closer, she caught the
occasional sparkle of a fountain.

'It's like a fairy-tale palace,' she whispered.

'There are many women who'd enjoy being a prisoner here,' Jeffrey replied as he
swung through a larger curved arch and came to a stop alongside a marble
column.

'Where is the sea?' she asked.

'On the other side of the house. All the main rooms face south.'

Carolyn opened the car door and stepped out. A liveried footman came forward
and took the car keys from Jeffrey's hand, leaving him free to escort his mother
and Carolyn up wide, shallow steps into a vast marbled hall. There were no
direct lights but a soft diffused glow that, at first glance, seemed to come from
nowhere, and only as Carolyn looked intently around did she realise they came
from hidden spotlights that skilfully picked out the magnificent paintings and
sculptures that lined the alcoves around them.

Ahead, the delicately spiralled staircase led up to the next floor, and as they
reached the top she was met by a view of such breathtaking beauty that she was
speechless. As Jeffrey had said, the entire southern aspect of the house faced the
sea, and through plate-glass walls she saw a paved terrace overlooking a white,
sandy beach. Here again, skilful lights lit up the view, linking the terrace with the
garden, and the garden with the shore.

'It looks as if we're the first to arrive.'

'No, we're not,' Jeffrey replied. 'Alvin's got a house party for the week-end. They
must be having coffee in the drawing- room.' As he spoke he led the way
through a vast room already cleared for dancing. Here too the floor was marble,
and velvet armchairs in jewelled colours of amethyst and sapphire were grouped
around small onyx tables.

'I'd hardly call this a cosy room,' Carolyn said. 'What is it normally used for—
conventions?'
Jeffrey grinned. 'No, but it's a good idea. You should suggest it to Alvin.'

They passed through another archway into a smaller room, one side of which
was completely oval. A silver carpet covered the floor and grey, satin curtains
were interfolded with ones of lemon and turquoise, the same three colours
picked out in the low sprung settee and armchairs. Even the flowers
complemented the decor, with grey porcelain bowls filled with hyacinths and
yellow roses.

'It doesn't seem like a home,' Carolyn murmured. 'Does Alvin really live here?'

'I don't think Alvin lives anywhere except in his office,' Jeffrey said so quietly
that only Carolyn could hear. 'After my sister left him he seemed to close down
on everything.'

'People don't generally do that for ever.'

'Alvin has his own standards. You can't equate him with a normal man.'

'You certainly can't,' Carolyn said.

'Can't what?' Mrs. Nichols asked.

'Can't leave your coats on,' Jeffrey said easily. 'Take Carolyn upstairs, Mother.'

Carolyn followed Mrs. Nichols up another flight of shallow stairs to the first
floor. She surmised they were once more on the same level as when they entered
the house, though they were in a completely different wing.

'The main bedrooms are all here,' Mrs. Nichols explained, 'but Alvin has his own
suite in the tower.'

'How appropriate,' Carolyn said.

Mrs. Nichols ignored the sarcasm and pushed open the first door. 'We can leave
our things here. This room is generally used when there's a party.'

The bedroom Carolyn entered was decorated far more simply than the rooms
below, with graceful Hepplewhite furniture and a matching double bed. There
was no wardrobe and Mrs. Nichols walked over to a wall and touched a small
leather button. With a soft whirr the walls slid back to disclose a dressing-room
and Carolyn had an impression of masses of vivid colours before the doors slid
together again. 'Oh dear,' Mrs. Nichols exclaimed, 'I didn't know the room was
occupied. We'd better leave our coats on a chair.'

Carolyn walked over to the dressing table and looked at a set of silver brushes
and a mirror. The name 'Romaine' was picked out in diamonds on each piece and
she touched one with her finger.

'This must have set someone back a few dollars.'

'She's a friend of Alvin's,' Mrs. Nichols said. Carolyn waited for her to say more,
but the silence was diplomatically obvious, leaving very little to Carolyn's
imagination. A feeling of bleakness descended on her and as it ebbed she was
left with an unreasoning and mounting anger towards Alvin. So clothes were not
the only things he bought his women friends.

'Come on, Carolyn,' Mrs. Nichols' voice broke into her thoughts, and she
dropped her coat on a chair and followed her out to the corridor.

As they reached the drawing-room again, Ella was waiting to greet them. Her
eyes widened as she saw Carolyn. 'How stunning you look. I hardly recognised
you.'

'It's my hair. Mrs. Nichols did it for me.'

'You should always wear it that way. Don't you think so, Alvin?'

Carolyn turned to see her host standing directly behind her. He was wearing his
usual dinner jacket, and his hair gleamed silver in the spotlight which shone
down from the high ceiling.

'Women always have the advantage over us. They can change their appearance
as easily as they can change their character.'

'You must know chameleons,' Carolyn retorted, 'not women. Once I say
something or do something I stick by it.'

His eyes met hers, but as always it was impossible to see his expression and she
wondered if he remembered the last time they had met when he had held her in
his arms and kissed her. It was a dangerous question and she pushed it away.
Alvin's emotions remained secret, and to try and analyse what he was feeling
could only lead to heartbreak.

With uncanny perception he broke into her thoughts. 'You're too emotional,
Carolyn. One day it will be your downfall.'

'What do you mean?'

'Only that I don't believe you'll go through with it. One day you'll admit the
truth.'

'The truth about what?'

He did not answer, and again she experienced an upsurge of anger. Why was he
always making these strange remarks? What did the veiled insinuations mean
and why couldn't he come out into the open and say exactly what he was
thinking?

'You can't go on saying these things to me.' She kept her voice low so that only
he could hear her. 'You've been making these remarks from the moment we met,
and I want to know exactly what you mean.'

'I'll be able to tell you in a couple of weeks' time,' Alvin said.

'Why can't you tell me now?'

'I'm waiting for a little information.'

Her mystification deepened and she felt as though she was swimming in a sea of
deception, fighting against something intangible, yet evil.

'Your friend has just arrived,' Jeffrey touched her arm, bringing her back to the
present. 'I'll go and bring him up.'

'Who is it?' Alvin asked.

'Derek de Mancy,' she replied. 'He's painting my portrait.' 'Of course,' Alvin's
voice was ice cold. 'Is he here with his sister?'
'No. She was supposed to come, but she telephoned and said she wasn't well.'
She looked at him in surprise. 'I didn't know you knew them.'

'I don't.'

'Then how did you know he had a sister?'

'I told you, Carolyn, I know everything.'

'Don't keep saying that!' she said angrily. 'If you have anything to——-'

'Alvin, I've been looking everywhere for you.'

Carolyn swung round and saw a petite woman in her early thirties coming
towards them. She was barely five feet tall and was as exquisitely proportioned
as a Tanagra figurine. Her perfect oval face with its clear magnolia skin was
outlined by blue- black hair and her features had a faintly oriental slant, the dark
eyes slightly uptilted, the mouth unusually full and painted the same flame red as
her dress.

Alvin smiled at her warmly and Carolyn noticed with a sense of irritation that he
had to look down in order to do so.

'I was just coming to look for you, Romaine. I'd like you to meet Mrs. Kolsky—
Piotr's stepmother. Carolyn, this is a very dear friend of mine, Romaine
Anderson.'

So she had been right in recognising the voice. Carolyn smiled stiffly. 'I think
we've met before.'

'Really?'

'Not actually face to face, but we were in adjoining cubicles at Darien's a few
weeks ago.'

Momentarily long-lashed eyelids hid the dark eyes, and when they were raised
again a smile lurked in their depths. 'He's such a wonderful couturier, don't you
think?' Without waiting for an answer she put her small hand with long scarlet
nails on Alvin's arm. 'You do like this dress, don't you, darling?'
'Do you want me to state the obvious?'

'But certainly. You so rarely do.'

Feeling she was in the way, Carolyn moved back a step, delighted to see Derek
coming towards her. 'Well, well,' he boomed, 'if it isn't the fairy on the Christmas
tree!' He caught her hands in a close grasp. 'You look divine. Now I'll have to
repaint your hair.'

'Re-paint your hair?' Romaine said. 'Are you a painter?'

'Indeed I am.' Derek looked at Carolyn and quickly she made the introductions,
aware of an unexpected tenseness about Alvin.

'I've been looking forward to meeting you,' Alvin said. 'I've heard a great deal
about you.'

'Indeed? As a man or a painter?'

'As a painter. I saw a couple of your portraits in a gallery in Bond Street. I liked
them.'

'Ahl' There was undeniable satisfaction in Derek's voice. 'Coming from you
that's a real compliment. You have an excellent reputation in the art world.'

'Thank you. I'm at least fortunate in being able to back my fancies.'

'I would have thought you only chose well-known artists,' Carolyn said.

If he recognised the sarcasm, Alvin chose to ignore it. 'Once I decide to buy an
artist he usually becomes famous.' He looked at Derek again. 'What made you
decide to live here?'

'My sister needed the country air.'

Alvin nodded. 'Of course. Your sister—I'd like to meet her.'

A curious shuttered look came over Derek's face. 'Margaret doesn't go out much.
She needs a great deal of rest.'

'Don't you find it boring living here the whole time?' Romaine Anderson asked.
'I'm never bored as long as I have my work.'

'I'd adore to have my portrait painted. Are you frightfully expensive?'

'Expense is relative,' Derek replied. 'When I need the work my fee is lower.'

'Do you need the work now?'

Derek chuckled. 'An artist never turns down a commission. If you'd like to offer
yourself as a model, I'd be delighted to paint your portrait without any charge.'

'That's not a very businesslike thing to say,' Carolyn interrupted. 'No artist should
give his services free.'

'I quite agree,' Alvin said, and smiled at the woman beside him. 'You must allow
me to pay for the portrait, my dear.'

'How wonderful of you.' Romaine squeezed his arm. 'Now you make me feel
guilty.'

'A beautiful woman need never feel guilty in accepting a present. Beauty
deserves everything it can get.'

There was a deliberated fatuousness in Alvin's voice that made Carolyn certain
he was speaking for effect rather then from feeling, and she knew instinctively
that he was doing so in order to annoy her. The fact that he was succeeding in no
way lessened her irritation, and she knew that if they remained talking together
any longer she would lose her temper and say something she would regret. What
a fool she had been to imagine that their last meeting had been an indication of a
changed attitude on his part. Stupidly she had read into a kiss far more than he
had intended. Perhaps he had deliberately kissed her in order to put her off her
guard. But put her off her guard against what? What did he expect her to do?
What secret was she supposed to be hiding?

Abruptly she swung round to Derek. 'We're missing the dancing,' she said, 'and
this is the first party I've been to in England.'

Derek glanced at Alvin and Romaine Anderson. 'I'll telephone you and fix an
appointment for the first sitting.'
'How many will I need?' Romaine asked.

'About a dozen.'

The woman glanced at Alvin. 'I didn't think it would be so many, darling. It
would be rather awkward coming down from London each time.'

'You must stay here. It will be a wonderful excuse.'

The provocative look on Romaine's face was more than Carolyn could stand, and
clutching hold of Derek's hand she moved away. 'Sorry to interrupt your work,'
she said tartly, 'but you're here as my guest.'

As they moved out of earshot, Derek looked at her in astonishment and then a
twinkle appeared in his eye. 'I never thought you'd be jealous.'

It was her turn to be astonished, but then, realising he had misinterpreted her
action, she decided it was safer to let him do so. 'All women like to be the centre
of attraction,' she drawled.

"You mustn't confuse business with pleasure, me darling, and Romaine

Anderson is strictly business. You're the pleasure.' He pulled her on to the dance
floor. 'But don't forget you invited me to the party in order for me to meet
people.'

'I know.' Now that she was away from Alvin she was contrite. 'I guess I'm feeling
irritable tonight. I don't know why.'

'As long as you're not angry with me,' he said.

'Of course not.'

He drew her closer and she forced herself to follow the beat of the music. Many
couples were already dancing and the vast marble hall was now full of people.
She recognised many well- known celebrities from the theatre, the musical and
the political world, and it brought home to her forcibly how different Alvin's life
was from her own. Had it not been for Piotr he was a man she would never have
met, probably never even have heard of except as a name in a gossip column. It
was something she had better force herself to remember; otherwise it could lead
to heartache.
Derek stayed at her side all the evening, only leaving it when Jeffrey came up
and asked her to dance. "You're the belle of the ball,' Jeffrey said as he swung
her into a samba. 'You shouldn't let de Mancy take up all your time.'

'I like him,' she replied.

'Maybe, but there are quite a few men here who like you! One dear old man's
been ogling you from the moment you came in.'

'Old men can only ogle!' she retorted.

'I've a feeling you wouldn't like anything else,' Jeffrey laughed. 'You're a funny
girl, Carolyn. A bit like a sleeping beauty who hasn't woken up.'

'Don't let your imagination run away with you. I'm a very wide-awake young
woman.'

The music ended before he could reply and Derek was at her side again,
precluding any further conversation.

'Time for supper,' he said. 'I can smell caviare and smoked salmon!'

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Carolyn drank too much champagne and
was only aware of music and noise and the heavy smell of scent, and the ebb and
flow of voices and laughter. It was difficult to believe she was surrounded by
millionaires and celebrities. Little Carolyn… brought up in an orphanage and
stepmother to a Polish child who had suddenly inherited a fortune. It was a fairy
tale come true, yet for her it would have no happy ending.

She tried to push away the heavy sense of depression, but knew that the only
way to do so would be to admit the reason for it; and to admit that would be to
acknowledge a truth which she was still fighting to hide. Alvin, she thought, it
all came back to Alvin.

'You're looking a bit pale.' Derek's voice seemed to come from a long way away
and she half leaned against him.

'It's the heat,' she murmured. 'Let's go out on the terrace.'

He led her through glass doors on to the marble terrace, holding her by the arm
as though afraid she would fall. The cool air helped to lessen the throbbing in her
head, and with it ceased the wild, strange thoughts that had engulfed her.
Suddenly reality returned, and she was once more a prosaic young woman in
complete control of herself.

'What's been the matter with you, Carolyn?' Derek asked quietly. 'You've been
acting strangely all evening.'

'Too much champagne and not enough food.'

'That's not the truth.'

'What is the truth?' she asked.

'For me it's the fact that I've fallen in love with you.'

'Don't say that! You don't know me.'

'I know you better than you think.' He moved nearer and caught her hand. 'I
wasn't going to tell you so soon, but you look so beautiful tonight that I'm afraid
I'll lose you.'

'Please,' she said quickly, 'it isn't any use. I don't want you to say any more.' In
the glow of the lamps she saw his expression harden.

'Is there another man?' he asked.

'No. It's just that I—I don't know you well enough.'

'Loving someone has nothing to do with how long you've known them.'

'Is has, for me,' she lied.

'Then I'll bide my time. As long as you don't forget what I've said. I know you
better than you think,' he repeated. 'You're in a strange country surrounded by
people who hate you.'

'That isn't true!'

'Of course it is—you've said as much yourself. And that's the reason you're on
the defensive. But there's no need to be defensive with me. I love you and I need
you, and I'm prepared to wait until you feel the same way about me.'

Carolyn shivered and drew closer to Derek. Here at least was a person who did
not look at her with jealousy or dislike.

'I guess I'm not thinking straight,' she murmured. 'Nothing has been real to me
from the time I got to England and learned about Piotr.'

'I know. That's why I want you to know you can rely on me.'

She shivered again and he put his hand on her shoulder. 'You're cold. I'll fetch
your wrap for you. Where is it?'

'Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms.'

'I'll ask a maid.' He led her to a hammock. 'Sit here where it's sheltered. I'll be
back in a moment.'

He walked away and Carolyn curled more closely into a corner of the hammock
and wished she was miles away. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent
that came from the flower-filled urns that lined the terrace. The sound of a soft
laugh came to her ears and she turned her head and caught a fleeting glimpse of
a flame-coloured dress.

There was the sound of a husky laugh, and recognising it she drew back closer
into the hammock as Romaine Anderson and Alvin came into sight. Of all the
couples that had to come out on to the terrace now, how infuriating that it had to
be them. Alvin had one arm on Romaine's shoulder, but the other hung limply by
his side, and as they half turned, Carolyn saw the scarlet- tipped fingers hover
gently down his sleeve to caress the injured hand. The woman was tiny enough
to make him appear much taller, and though they were now standing still, the
slight breeze on the terrace swirled the red skirts around Alvin's legs so that the
two figures seemed to merge one with the other.

Silently Carolyn stood up and moved down into the garden. The music behind
her grew fainter and she continued to walk until it was replaced by the sound of
the sea lapping gently on the shore. A stone bench was placed in an alcove and
she sank down on it and stared out to where the lights on the Isle of White
shimmered on the horizon. She didn't know how long she sat there and was
startled into the present by the sound of footsteps. She turned, expecting to see
Derek, and was disconcerted to see Alvin. 'Why are you sitting here?' he asked.
'It's cold.'

'I was admiring the view. It's beautiful.'

'More beautiful than the one from my office window?'

Her hands clenched at her sides. 'I'd forgotten that.'

'Of course. You profess to have a bad memory.'

She stood up. 'If you're going to continue insulting me I'm not going to stay
here.'

'You can't leave me alone.' His hand came out and gripped her arm. It was
unexpectedly strong for so slight a man and his fingers felt like steel.

'You're hurting me!' she gasped.

'I haven't even begun.'

'Why should you hate me so? I've never done anything to harm you.'

'Perhaps I see myself as an avenger.'

'For whom? For what?'

'One day I'll tell you.'

'You'd better make it soon. I'm doing my best to get away from this place.'

'You can't You're Piotr's guardian and you're forced to stay here.'

'I might be able to find a way of leaving.'

'Do you really think you can?' He stared at her intently, his glasses glinting in the
moonlight 'Yes, I can see you do. Well, try, my dear Carolyn. Keep trying.'

'I will. Staying in this country is like being in a prison. If it weren't for leaving
Piotr, I'd…'
'Yes?' he said. 'You'd what?'

'I'd go back to Canada and work again.'

'You're far too beautiful to need to work. If you hadn't spent all your time with de
Mancy tonight I could have introduced you to some of my friends.'

'I'm not interested in your friends.'

'They're all extremely wealthy.'

'I couldn't care less.'

'A woman not interested in bettering herself! Come, come, dear Carolyn, don't
expect me to believe that!'

'I don't. You're controlled by logic and I'm controlled by emotion.'

'That's a sign of weakness. Emotion passes, but logic remains constant.'

'If you live your life by that rule, you'll never be happy.'

'On the contrary,' he said coolly, 'I enjoy my life immensely.'

'Without love there is no life.'

The word caught him by surprise and he half turned away from her. 'I wasn't
thinking about love,' he said half to himself. 'It's a feeling I no longer believe in.'

'Because of Rosemary? Is that why you refuse to admit you've got any feelings?'

'Romaine wouldn't agree with that remark!'

'I was talking about love,' Carolyn reiterated. 'That's not an emotion a woman
like Mrs. Anderson can evoke.'

'How narrow-minded you are,' he mocked. 'Romaine is at least honest in her

feelings. I know what she feels for me, and there's no pretence about it.'

'And you don't care?'

'Not at all. A relationship based on truth has a much better chance of succeeding
than one based on emotion where people never see reality.'

'You and your reality,' she choked, 'you make me sick!' She pushed past him and
ran back along the garden to the terrace. As she reached it she saw Derek, her
coat in his hands.

'I've been looking for you,' he said. 'Where were you?'

She was too overwrought to answer and he came over to her and placed the coat
on her shoulders. 'What's wrong, Carolyn, you're like a ghost.'

'I've been talking to one,' she said in a trembling voice. 'Take me home, Derek, I
don't want to stay here any longer.'

'I'll fetch my car,' he said quickly. 'Come.'

Holding her hand as though she were a child, he led her along the terrace and
around the side of the house to the garage. 'Luckily I kept my keys,' he muttered.
'The Irish in me must have given me a sixth sense that you wouldn't sit out the
whole party.'

'I wish I'd never come,' she said stonily. 'The Tyssens of this world don't belong
in my life.'

Derek opened the car door for her and she slid into the front seat. 'You need me,'
he said as he got in beside her. 'I told you that a moment ago, Carolyn. You need
me.'

'Perhaps I do,' she said. 'But you must give me time.'

'Time is the one thing I won't give you,' he said firmly. 'In the past few weeks
I've seen a change come over you that I don't like. These people are trying to
destroy you, Carolyn.'

'That's a melodramatic thing to say.'

'Is it? Then why are you behaving so strangely? One minute you're normal, the
next you look as though you're being hounded to death.'
'It's the feeling of hatred around me,' she admitted. 'If I weren't Piotr's guardian '

'But you are, and you can't do anything about it. The boy needs you.' He leaned
forward and pulled her against him. 'And you need me. Let me take care of you
Carolyn, then you needn't be afraid any more.'

'Do you think so?'

'I know so.'

'But I hardly know you.'

'You've known me long enough to know you can trust me.'

'Yes,' she said soberly, 'that's true.'

'Then let's use that to build something more.'

Her sense of humour began to return. 'As a proposer of marriage, Derek, you're
being very unemotional for an Irishman!'

'Only because I know you've had enough emotion for one evening. But give me
the chance and I'll show you exactly how I can feel.' His lips were only a breath
away, but she held him off and after a moment he drew back. 'Let the Nichols
believe we're engaged,' he said quietly. 'It will give me the chance to protect
you.'

'Protect me from what?' He did not answer, and the fear that had lain dormant in
her for the past few weeks returned more strongly than ever. 'What have I got to
be afraid of?'

'Nothing,' he said, 'not now that you have me to take care of you.'
CHAPTER NINE
Carolyn did not come down until late the next morning. When Derek had
brought her home she had been too exhausted to think, but she awoke at dawn
and, able to review the position more logically, had known she could not allow
her dislike of Alvin to propel her into an engagement with a man she did not
love.

'I must go to the cottage and tell him,' she decided, and waited impatiently for
the sky to change from the pale light of dawn to the clear lemon light of
morning.

Hurriedly she dressed, gulped down a cup of coffee and set off down the drive.

She had rounded the first bend when a car chugged towards her, and with a throb
of nervousness she recognised Derek at the wheel.

'I was coming to see you,' she said as he got out of the car.

'I beat you to it.' The smile left his face as he saw her expression. 'What's wrong,
Carolyn?'

She drew a deep breath. 'I can't go on with the engagement. It's only a pretence,
and it isn't fair to you.'

'Let me be the judge of that. I want Jeffrey and his mother to know you've got
someone to take care of you.'

'But it isn't fair, you'll be hurt.'

'Don't worry about me. I meant what I said last night, Carolyn. I love you and I
believe you need protecting.'

'From what? You must have some idea.'

'I tell you I don't know. It's just a feeling.'

'The whole thing's fantastic,' she whispered. 'When Peter asked me to marry him
I'd no idea things would turn out like this.'
'Perhaps he knew. Perhaps that's why he asked you to look after his son. He
might have been afraid that if Piotr came here alone they'd try to——- ' He
stopped speaking and she looked at him with horror.

'They'd try and what?'

'Get rid of him, perhaps.'

'No, I don't believe it. They couldn't harm a child.'

'They don't need to now. If they were his guardians instead of you, they'd still
have control of the money.'

'No,' she said again. 'No.'

Yet though she denied what Derek said, his words only reechoed her own fears,
and she caught hold of his arm. 'What should I do?'

'Just rely on me.' He caught her by the shoulders. 'Let our engagement stand,
Carolyn.'

'Very well,' she said. 'But only because—- '

'Don't say any more,' he interrupted. 'I know the reason.' He straightened. 'Now
the first thing is to make sure there's someone here with you the whole time.'

'That's impossible.'

'No, it isn't. Margaret's agreed to come here.'

'Margaret?'

'Yes. She's much better now and it will do her good to take care of Piotr. That
means you needn't stay here the whole time.'

'I've nowhere else to go.'

'You must get away from the house. Stay in London for a few days, perhaps take
a flat.'

'You talk as if I'm in danger here.'

Silence was his only answer, but it was more frightening than words. 'Can all
this be real?' she wondered. Would Jeffrey and Mrs. Nichols harm her in order to
get charge of Piotr? But surely that wasn't necessary now that Jeffrey was going
to marry Ella. Though her thoughts should have been reassuring, Carolyn was
not pacified. Hatred was not based on reason, for if reason was the governing
factor, why should Alvin show so clearly that he hated her?

'It's like a nightmare,' she said aloud.

'It won't last for ever,' Derek replied, and swung her round to face the house. 'The
first thing is to let everyone know we're engaged. From then on, leave everything
to me.'

Feeling as though she were playing a part—as indeed she was—Carolyn entered
the house with Derek, and saw Jeffrey coming down the stairs in a dressing
gown.

'I thought you were at the office,' she said in surprise.

'There's one advantage being engaged to the boss's sister,' Jeffrey grinned. 'I've
been given the morning off to recuperate!' He put his hand to his head. 'And boy,
do I need it!'

'Shall I get you some coffee?'

'I've already had some.' He opened the door of the drawing- room and let her and
Derek precede him in.

'How come you left the party early?' he asked as Carolyn sat down by the fire.

'We wanted to be alone,' Derek said before Carolyn could answer. 'We got
engaged last night. You're the first to know.'

Jeffrey looked at them in astonishment. 'This is rather sudden, isn't it? I'd no
idea…'

'Neither had Carolyn,' Derek said easily. 'It was love at first sight for me, but she
took a little more persuading.'

'Well, well, love must be as catching as measles. I suppose Alvin will be next.'
Jeffrey sauntered over and bent to kiss Carolyn on the cheek. 'Congratulations,
old girl, and you too, de Mancy. I hope you don't come to such an untimely end
as your predecessor.'

'That's not very funny,' Derek said slowly.

'Sorry, old chap, it's my peculiar sense of humour.'

Derek took out his pipe and filled it with slow, deliberate movements. 'If you
generally make remarks like that, I can see why Carolyn hasn't enjoyed having
you living with her.'

'Having me live with her?'

'That's right. It's her house now, you know.'

'It's Piotr's,' Carolyn said quickly, feeling that Derek was needlessly antagonising
Jeffrey.

'Don't worry about hurting my feelings,' Jeffrey ignored Derek and spoke to
Carolyn. 'I've always admired people who talk plainly—and your fiance is
certainly doing that.' He turned to look at the man beside him. 'You've got a point
there, though, de Mancy. We gave Carolyn a pretty rough time when she first
came here, but I was hoping she'd realised it was all in the past.'

'Maybe it is for you,' Derek said, 'but I'm not sure about your mother.'

Jeffrey shrugged. 'She'll get used to it. Anyway, once I'm married I hope things
will be different.' He tightened the belt of his dressing gown and sat down on the
arm of the settee. 'Did you like the show?' he asked.

Derek looked puzzled and Carolyn's cheeks flamed with embarrassment. 'We
didn't see it,' she stammered. 'Oh, Jeffrey, I forgot all about it. I was out on the
terrace and—and after Derek and I got——'

'What Carolyn means,' Derek interposed, 'is that in the excitement of getting
engaged neither of us remembered you were putting on a musical.'

'It doesn't matter,' Jeffrey said airily. 'You may get the chance to hear it on the
stage.'
'Jeffrey!' Carolyn exclaimed. "You don't mean…'

'I do,' he grinned. 'Hiram Walsh was at the party last night and he's asked to see
the score. Nothing may come of it, but at least he was interested enough to talk
to me for an hour.' He turned to Derek. 'Did you get any good commissions?'

Derek smiled. 'Only one. Unfortunately I couldn't hold an exhibition of my

paintings in the hall!'

'Well, one is a start, anyway. Who is it?'

'A friend of Mr. Tyssen's. Romaine Anderson.'

Jeffrey made a face. 'You'll have your work cut out there!'

'I don't see why. She has an interesting face.'

'Maybe. But you'd better not let the character come through! Just paint what you
see on the surface. That's all Alvin's interested in!'

Carolyn stood up. 'Anybody want some coffee?'

'Not for me, sweetheart,' Derek said. 'I must be going back. I promised to drive
Margaret into Chichester.'

'Doesn't she drive herself?'

'Too scared. A bike's the only thing she can manage.' He walked to the door.
'Don't bother seeing me out.'

As the door closed behind him Jeffrey sat down at the piano, but though his
hands rested on the keys, he did not play. 'How come you're engaged to Derek?'

'What do you mean?'

'Just that it's somewhat unexpected.'

She avoided his eyes. 'It doesn't take long to fall in love.'

'Are you sure you have?'

'What other reason would I have for getting engaged?'

'I don't know. But I can't see you marrying that Irish blarney.'

'Derek's different when we're alone,' she said stiffly. 'He's kind and dependable
and honest.'

'Sounds like you're giving him a character reference.' Jeffrey said. 'You wouldn't
be getting engaged on the rebound would you?'

'Rebound from what?'

'I don't know. But I've a feeling…' he ran his fingers over the keys. 'Hell! I can't
explain it. I just feel in my bones he isn't right for you.' He played a soft chord.
'What did you think of Romaine?'

'I don't know her.'

'That doesn't usually stop a woman from forming an opinion!'

Carolyn hesitated and then said carefully: 'She isn't the type that appeals to me,
but if Alvin cares for her '

'I wouldn't use the word "care". For Alvin it's just an affair of convenience with
no strings attached.'

Carolyn smiled without amusement. 'I wouldn't be so sure of that. From what I
saw of Mrs. Anderson last night I'd say she was beginning to manoeuvre the
strings very nicely.'

'She'll never tie Alvin down.'

'You wouldn't care to take a bet on it, would you?'

Jeffrey looked at her for a long moment, his gaze so intense that she felt herself
flushing. "You always have a strange tone in your voice when you talk about my
future brother-in-law. You wouldn't have fallen for him, by any chance, would
you?'

'What a ridiculous thing to say!'

'Is it?' Jeffrey was well under way, his eyes gleaming with amusement. 'I don't
happen to think so. He starts off by disliking you, and you make no bones about
reciprocating the attitude. Then he keeps coming round her just to insult you—
which isn't like Alvin at all. He's always been noted for his politeness. The next
thing I discover is that he gives you a personal tour around his treasured factory
and brings you back to my office with your lipstick on his mouth. Then last night
at the party he completely ignores you, and this morning you're engaged to
Derek; ipso facto, if that isn't love, I'm a Dutchman!'

'You're crazy! You should stick to writing romantic musicals and not turn real
life into fiction.'

Jeffrey shrugged and turned back to the piano, beginning to pick out a few notes
at random. Slowly he turned them into a time, so absorbed in what he was doing
that Carolyn knew he had forgotten all about her.

Why had Jeffrey made such a ridiculous comment about Alvin? She was
certainly not indifferent to the man—no woman could be—but that did not mean
she was in love with him. Indeed, if she thought about her feelings at all, she
would have said they were composed of dislike, fear and a determination to cut
him down to size. Yes, that last part was certainly true, and, probably more than
anything else, accounted for her burning desire to make him see her as a woman.
Suddenly she knew why she kept thinking about him: not because he meant
anything to her—that idea was ridiculous—but because of a determination to
hurt him as he had hurt her.

Despite the occasional jibes Jeffrey and Mrs. Nichols still made at her, days
would pass when their attitude was normal and friendly, but this was something
she could never say about Alvin. Every time they met he went out of his way to
lay stress on the fact that she had known of Piotr's inheritance when she had
married Peter. 'Darn the man,' she thought angrily. 'How pleased he'd be if he
knew I keep thinking of him.'

Determinedly she turned her thoughts to Derek, glad there was someone on
whom she could rely. Perhaps this false engagement was a good idea after all,
perhaps it might even lead to something more permanent. She tried to envisage a
future with Derek, yet somehow it was impossible. Charming though he was, she
could not take him seriously, nor see him as a romantic figure.
Jeffrey's surprise at her engagement was echoed by Mrs. Nichols, whom Carolyn
discovered playing with Piotr on the floor of his nursery. The woman looked
unusually dishevelled, the belt of her dress lying on the floor, her hair over her
eyes. Piotr was obviously enjoying himself immensely, for when his
grandmother stood up to go, he clutched her round the waist.

'You promised you'd play with me all day,' he wailed.

'I have,' Mrs. Nichols said. 'We had lunch together and now it's nearly tea time.'

'Stay here and have tea with me.'

'Leave your grandmother alone now,' Carolyn ordered. 'I think you've exhausted
her. Go down to the kitchen and have tea with Cook?

Piotr looked as though he was going to argue, but seeing the expression on
Carolyn's face, he decided against it and rushed out of the room singing at the
top of his voice.

'He's quite a lad,' Mrs. Nichols said, straightening her hair and putting on her
belt. 'I've never known a day go so fast.'

As they went downstairs, the woman recounted all the things Piotr had said to
her, and it was only when she was pouring out tea that Mrs. Nichols stopped
talking about him long enough for Carolyn to tell her of her engagement to
Derek.

'Good heavens,' Mrs. Nichols said. 'I never even knew you liked him.'

'I got to know him better when he—when he started painting my portrait.'

'Are you sure you're not rushing into things?'

'We're not getting married yet,' Carolyn said quickly.

'At least that's sensible.'

'Don't you like him?' Carolyn asked bluntly.

'Of course I do. I just never thought of him in terms of a husband for you.'
'I'm surprised to hear you even bothered to think of me at all,' Carolyn said.

Airs. Nichols sighed. 'I suppose I asked for that one.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude.'

'You weren't rude, my dear, and if there's any apologising to be done, it should
come from me. When I think of the things I said to you…'

Carolyn was taken aback by Mrs. Nichols' apology and, remembering Derek's
suspicions, wondered if the woman was deliberately trying to be disarming. Yet
somehow, looking into the lined face, she could not believe it. All at once she
saw her as a pathetic figure and felt intensely sorry for the wasted years the
woman had spent with her two children in this large and ugly house anticipating
the day when she was no longer commanded by an autocratic old woman who
had obviously used her money as a means of controlling the people around her.

'I don't know whether you'll believe me or not,' Carolyn said slowly, 'but I give
you my word that when I married Peter I'd no idea of Piotr's inheritance.'

'I realise that now,' Mrs. Nichols answered, 'and I'd give anything if we could
begin all over again.'

'I'm glad you said that,' Carolyn replied. 'It's a few years until Piotr's twenty-one,
so we'll have plenty of time to make up for the bad beginning.'

'You won't want me here once you're married.'

'That won't be for a long time yet,' Carolyn said quickly, and then stopped as she
saw Mrs. Nichols' look of surprise. 'I must watch myself,' she thought 'I've got to
remember there's a reason for my engagement to Derek.'

Yet sitting in this quiet room, it was difficult to believe that Derek's suspicions
were justified. Again Carolyn felt her head start to throb. Nothing was worse
then suspicion. It had a habit of seeping into everything, giving the most
innocent remark an importance it did not deserve. If she did not watch out she
would end up a paranoic, afraid to turn her back on anyone, scared even to leave
Piotr alone.

That night Carolyn was invited to dinner at the cottage. Margaret had made
every effort to turn it into a festive occasion, but nothing could make the over-
cluttered living-room look homely, and while they were having coffee in front of
the smouldering fire, the woman apologised for it

'This must seem like a hovel to you after the Manor.'

'It's smaller than I'm used to,' Carolyn said carefully. 'I've always been
accustomed to large rooms. It's funny how orphanages are usually in old-
fashioned houses.'

'No one would want to live in them in a private capacity.'

'Pity you can't do that with Royston,' Derek interposed. 'The money you spend in
the upkeep of that place should go to something better.'

'Piotr's got to live there. It's in the will.'

Brother and sister exchanged a glance. 'What are the exact terms of the will?'
Derek asked.

'They're quite simple really. Piotr gets the bulk of his inheritance when he's
twenty-one and until that time I'm the trustee.'

Margaret helped herself to a cigarette and offered one to Carolyn. 'What

happenes if Piotr dies before he comes of age?'

'The way the will stands at the moment I'd get the money, but I'm trying to
arrange for it to revert to Jeffrey and his mother.'

'But as the boy's guardian, do you get the interest from the trust fund?'

'Yes,' Carolyn leaned closer to the smoky fire, feeling suddenly cold. 'That gives
me the creeps too. Somehow it seems like blood money. That's why I've asked
Mr. Arnold to make Jeffrey and Mrs. Nichols trustees as well.'

'You're crazy!' Margaret said flatly. 'Why do you want to do a thing like that?'

Carolyn stared at her in surprise. 'I guess that's my business.'

'Of course it is,' Derek said hastily. 'Margaret's just looking at if from your point
of view. When is all this great change going to take place?'

'As soon as Mr. Arnold can arrange it. Legally it's quite a problem.'

'So for the moment, if anything happened to the child you'd get the money?'

'I wish you wouldn't talk about it,' Carolyn said with unusual asperity. 'It makes
me feel peculiar.'

Derek burst out laughing. 'Only you could consider money peculiar! No wonder
the Nichols think they're on to a good thing. You're too soft, my dear. It's what
they're relying on.'

'I can't believe you're right. This afternoon Mrs. Nichols went out of her way to
tell me——- '

'That she was sorry for her behaviour?' Derek interrupted. 'Naturally she'd say
that the moment she knew you were engaged to me. She realised she'd have to be
careful.'

'I can't believe it,' Carolyn said.

'That's what you said this morning,' he reminded her, 'but every time you go back
to the house, the Nichols convince you I'm wrong.' He came over to her and put
his hand on her chin, tilting it up so that she could not avoid his eyes. 'If I'm
wrong about Jeffrey and his mother, no one will be more delighted than me. But
where your safety and Piotr's is concerned, I'd rather be safe than sorry.'

'You can rely on me to make sure of Piotr's safety,' Margaret said from behind
them. 'I'll be ready to move in tomorrow.'

Carolyn pulled away from Derek and looked at his sister. She had no reason to
dislike Margaret, yet there was something impersonal about the woman that
made it impossible to feel any warmth towards her. Compared to Miss Williams
she seemed frigid and unsympathetic, and certainly nothing like her brother. It
was hard to imagine her in charge of an orphanage, and she could not help
wondering if the children had been happy under her control.

'Do you think it's really necessary for you to stay at the house?'
'Derek thinks so,' Margaret said, beginning to clear the table. 'Besides, I'm so
much better now that I'm beginning to get restless doing nothing.'

'She's even talking about going back to work,' Derek said, 'but I'd rather she
didn't for a few more months.'

'Would you return to the orphanage?'

With the laden tray in her hands, Margaret stopped by the door. 'Not back to the
same one,' she said harshly. 'I like looking after children in my own way, and I
don't like being given orders.'

'Margaret was too soft, and the Board of Governors objected to it,' Derek
explained. 'She kept having rows with them, and eventually she collapsed under
the strain.'

Looking at the thin, gaunt face, Carolyn could not see Margaret in the role Derek
was giving her, and she wondered with something bordering on hysteria whether
she had reached the stage where she was unable to believe anything anybody
said.

Margaret went out of the room and Derek pulled Carolyn close against him. For
a moment she resisted his touch, and then she relaxed on his shoulder.

'That's better,' he said. 'You've been tense and on edge from the moment you got
here.'

'I'm sorry,' she apologised, 'but since last night I somehow can't think straight
about anything.'

'Leave me to do the thinking for you,' Derek said, and pressed his lips to her
forehead. Gently he kissed her eyes and then his head blotted out the small light
hanging from the centre of the ceiling as his lips pressed hard on hers. It was an
unexpected kiss of passion, and though Carolyn tried to respond to it she was
conscious of his breathing heavy in her ear, of his hands caressing her shoulders
and the hard muscle of his thigh close against hers. His kiss grew more insistent
and she pulled away from him.

'Derek, don't! Margaret might come in.'

'She'd be delighted to see us like this.' He reached for her again, but she evaded
him.

'No—you mustn't. It isn't right.' 'Why not?'

'Because it's a pretence.'

'Not on my part,' he said. 'You know how I feel about you.'

'That's why I don't…' It was difficult for her to continue, and he caught her hand
and squeezed it.

'Don't be scared of me, Carolyn. I don't deserve it.'

'I'm sorry,' she said quickly, not liking to see him so humble. 'It's just that when
we're alone I'd rather we didn't pretend.'

'Very well.' Humour returned to his face and his thick curly beard did not hide
the amused curve of his mouth. 'I'll just have to do all my loving in public!'

The next morning Carolyn went to London to help Ella choose her wedding
dress. Darien showed then a profusion of sketches and they were immersed in
them when Madame Angele came into the room.

'There's a phone call for Miss Tyssen.'

Ella followed the vendeuse to her office and Carolyn thumbed through the
sketches on her own.

'They're very lovely,' she said warmly. "You must make the most beautiful
clothes in London.'

'For some of the most beautiful women.'

Carolyn nonchalantly lit a cigarette. 'I met one of your clients at Miss Tyssen's
engagement party. I believe she was wearing a dress of yours—a red taffeta.'

'Ah yes—Mrs. Anderson. A wonderful person to dress.'

'Has she been coming here long?'

'About the same time as yourself. But the dresses she has bought'—he waved his
arms—'a fortune. Relatively speaking, of course,' he said hastily.

'I can imagine,' Carolyn said dryly.

Ella came back, her face beaming. 'It was Jeffrey. He's had a phone call from
Hiram Walsh, the producer. He wants to see him this afternoon.'

'That's marvellous!'

'It is, isn't it?' Ella's voice had a lilt of joy Carolyn had never heard before. 'I told
him we'll spend the night in town and go to a show.'

'I'll take the late train back,' Carolyn said.

'Don't be silly. We can all spend the night at Alvin's flat.'

Carolyn made no reply. It was stupid of her not to realise Alvin would have a flat
in London. Knowing him, he probably had one in most of the capital cities of the
world. It was late afternoon before they left Darien's and they took a taxi to an
imposing block of flats overlooking Hyde Park.

A gilt lift whirred them up to the top floor and Ella opened the front door and led
the way through a small hall into a spacious lounge. Unlike the house in the
country, it was furnished with exquisite antique pieces, the subtle reds and blues
of the Persian carpet picked out by the velvet curtains and silk wallpaper set
between carved wood panels on each wall.

'This is much nicer than the house,' Carolyn remarked.

'Alvin chose all these himself. The house was done by a decorator.'

'Is it all right if I stay here?' Carolyn asked. 'I wouldn't like to meet—to meet
anyone else.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Carolyn looked down at a pedestal table and ran one finger along the ormolu
edge. 'This is cute.'
'Don't hedge, Carolyn. I know you're not keen on Alvin, but you won't be seeing
him here. He's staying down at the house.'

'I wasn't thinking of your brother.'

Ella looked blank. 'Then who were you thinking of?'

Carolyn didn't answer and Ella suddenly giggled. 'Good heavens, you don't think
Romaine lives here, do you? Honestly, Carolyn, how naive you are!'

'Coming from you that's a joke.'

This time Ella burst out laughing. 'Seems we're both more innocent than we
look, but I can assure you Romaine's got her own flat. I suppose Alvin pays for
it, but that's not my business.' She fingered the key she was holding. 'You don't
think he'd give me the key of his love nest, do you?'

Carolyn's hands grew clammy. 'It beats me how you can make a joke of it.'

Suddenly Ella looked sober. 'I'm afraid to take it seriously. At one time I just
thought that it was a casual affair, but now I'm not so sure. In the last few weeks
he's behaved so strangely.'

'In what way?'

Ella took off her jacket. 'It's hard to say. He's morose and difficult and bad-
tempered, which is unlike him. He only acts that way when he's upset.'

Carolyn turned away and stared at a picture on the wall. 'Have you asked him
what's wrong?' she asked carefully.

'Yes.'

'What did he say?'

'Just that they're doing some pretty tricky experiments in one of the labs, and that
he's worried about it.'

'Don't you believe him?' Carolyn turned to watch the expression on Ella's face.

'I don't know. I know he does get worried if they're doing something new at the
lab., but I've never known him like this before. If I——-' A ring at the door
stopped Ella from continuing and she answered it to let Jeffrey in.

One look at his face was enough to tell them both that he had heard good news.

'It's settled,' he said jubilantly. 'Walsh is going to produce my musical and

Marine Verne will sing the lead!'

'That's wonderful. Oh, Jeffrey!' Ella exclaimed, 'I can't believe it.'

'Neither can I. But Walsh is positive he's on to a winner and he's backing it with
hard cash to prove it.' He walked excitedly round the room. 'Just think of it!
Even if it's a failure I'll still have proved to myself that I'm capable of doing
something that other people want to buy.'

'What's the musical about?' Ella asked. "You only did the first act at the party.'

'It's a simple story,' Jeffrey answered. 'Boy meets girl, boy loses girl and boy
finds girl again.'

'And the tide?'

He hesitated. 'Not a difficult one to remember. It's a pr6cis of quite a few years
of my life.'

'I don't understand.'

Jeffrey took a step towards his fiancee. Don't you darling?' He caught her hand.
'It's called "Waiting for Ella".' There was a long moment of silence, then Ella
suddenly burst into tears.

'Hey, what's all this about?' He pulled her into his arms. 'If you don't like the tide
I'll change it.'

'It isn't that,' she cried, 'it's just that I never realised you… I never thought you
cared.'

'Not cared about my monkey-face? Why, you're the best thing that's ever
happened to me.'
'But you never said so, and all the time we've been engaged you never said you
loved me.'

'How remiss of me. Why else did you think I waited?'

She raised a tear-stained face to his. 'I've a lot of money,' she said simply.

'I thought I had a lot coming to me as well,' he replied, 'and I got engaged to you
a long time before I found out about Piotr.'

Ella's tears fell faster. 'How stupid I am! But it's your fault Every time I asked
you how you felt about me you made a joke of it'

'Because I'm a fool who finds it difficult to put his thoughts into words. That's
why I wrote the musical. It's the only way I knew of telling you how I feel about
you.' There was no longer any humour on Jeffrey's face, and as he continued to
speak his voice was strained. 'When we got engaged for the first time I don't
think I did love you—not really. I was delighted you agreed to marry me, of
course, but I suppose it was mainly due to the knowledge of who you were. It
wasn't until we parted and then you came back again that I realised how much
you meant to me. I always expected you to marry somebody else, and when I
found you hadn't, I realised what a first-class heel I'd been. That's when I really
fell in love with you, and I've been falling in love with you more and more every
day.'

'Oh, Jeffrey I' Ella said, and fell into his arms.

Carolyn tiptoed from the room and went into the bedroom. If she could have left
the flat without Ella worrying about her, she would have done so, for she felt that
at a time like this they deserved to be completely alone.

It was nearly an hour later when Ella came looking for her, her face flushed, her
eyes starry.

'Carolyn, I'm so happy I could cry!'

'Not again, honey, you'll overload the pipes.'

Ella laughed. 'Tonight's really going to be a celebration. Hurry up and get ready.'
'Count me out. This is strictly between you and Jeffrey.'

'Don't be an idiot'

'I'm serious. I'd just as soon stay here and have an early night. I'd feel like a
gooseberry if I had to tag along.'

'I don't like the thought of leaving you—— '

'It'll suit me fine. And don't hurry back either!'

When Jeffrey and Ella had left, the flat seemed suddenly quiet Only the muted
sound of the traffic in Park Lane indicated that she was in the heart of London.
She wandered round and examined the rooms. There were three bedrooms, the
largest obviously Alvin's, for it was essentially masculine in its design, with
French Empire furniture in deep mahogany and royal blue curtains at the
windows. She opened another door and found herself in a perfectly appointed
bathroom. Monogrammed silver brushes were on a glass shelf above the sink
and hanging on the door was a navy blue dressing gown, a gold letter "A"
embroidered on the pocket. The material was smooth and soft, and she held it
against her cheek, remembering his aloofness and the rigid way he controlled his
expression and words. How lonely he must be in his self-imposed isolation.

Tears filled her eyes and she took out the handkerchief from the breast pocket
and wiped them away. It was ridiculous for the thought of Alvin to make her cry.
What was the matter with her? Alvin Tyssen meant nothing in her life. She was
just allowing herself to be overcome by the emotion that surrounded

Jeffrey and Ella. Alvin meant nothing to her. He was cruel and bitter and
deserved to be alone. No wonder Rosemary had run away with a man who had
made her feel cherished. Any woman unfortunate enough to fall in love with
Alvin would have to live with a ghost, for no one could ever penetrate the barrier
of his reserve.

She dropped the dressing gown back against the door and wandered into the
kitchen. Evidently a daily housekeeper took care of the flat, for there was plenty
of food in the refrigerator, and she made herself an omelette and coffee.

When she had finished and cleared away it was still only eight o'clock, and she
decided to have a bath, instinctively going into Alvin's bathroom.
She lay soaking in hot water until her skin turned pink and then, on an impulse,
washed her hair, rubbing it vigorously with a towel until it clung in damp
tendrils round her face. It was only when she was standing completely nude on
the bathroom floor that she realised she had no dressing gown and she slipped
into Alvin's, shivering with a strange and unexpected emotion as the soft folds
fell around her. She combed her hair and could not help smiling at her reflection.
Gone was the medieval sophisticate and once again she was the Carolyn of old,
looking every inch the homeless orphan.

A door creaked and there was the sound of footsteps in the next room. Carolyn
stood stock still. The footsteps came again, soft and cat-like, and her heart began
to pound. Nervously she moistened her lips, trying to remember if she had bolted
the front door after Jeffrey and Ella had left. The noise came again—as if
someone was opening the cupboards—and she tiptoed across the bathroom floor
and silently bolted the door. If the intruder left the bedroom it might be possible
to make a dash to the front door. She strained her ears. Yes, there was the noise
again, but this time it was louder, for there was a crash and a muffled
imprecation. Then the steps came nearer and, petrified, Carolyn saw the
bathroom handle turn. The door shook and her mouth went dry.

'If there's anyone there,' a voice said, 'you'd better come out or I'll call the police.'

Weakly she started to laugh and pulling back the bolt opened the door to see
Alvin.

'Good lord!' he stared at her. 'What on earth are you doing here?'

Conscious that she was wearing his dressing gown, she turned scarlet.

'I—I was having a bath.' 'So I see.' He stepped back and she followed him. 'Close
the bathroom door behind you,' he said. 'I'm not partial to steam in my bedroom.'

Mortified, she obeyed and turned round to see him still looking at her.

'I'm staying here with Ella and Jeffrey,' she explained. 'He came up to see Hiram
Walsh about his musical. They're going to produce it, you know. So they went
out to celebrate.'

'What stopped you from going?' He scanned her from head to foot. 'Or are you
expecting your fiance?'
It took her a moment to understand what he meant, then she stared at him
flabbergasted. 'How dare you!' she choked, her cheeks flaming again. 'Do you
usually judge people by your own standards?'

'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'You know very well! Or do you think your affair with Mrs. Anderson is a
secret?'

'What concern is that of yours?'

'None!' She swung on her heel. 'And my business is no concern of yours!'

'Carolyn!' He called her as she reached the bathroom door. 'Carolyn, I'm sorry,
I'd no right to be so rude.'

Amazed at the sudden turnabout in attitude—it was the first time she could
remember his ever apologising to her—she swung round to look at him. He had
sunk into a chair and was leaning back. His skin was paler than usual, his lips
bloodless and the fine, silver-blond hair at his temples and forehead dark with
perspiration.

'I've got a foul headache,' he said softly, 'and I'd no right to vent it on you.'

'Why don't you lie down?'

He covered his eyes with his hand. 'I'll be all right in a moment. It's just these
damn lines that keep waving in front of me.'

'Migraine,' she said quickly. 'There's no point fighting it. Have you anything to
take for it?'

'There are some pills in the bathroom cabinet, but they don't always do the trick.'

'An injection would probably be better—quicker too.'

'How professional you sound.' His words were blurred and indistinct. 'I was
forgetting you're a nurse. The solicitude must come naturally to you.'

She ignored the sarcasm. 'Get into bed and I'll give you your pills and a hot
drink.'

She collected her clothes and took them into another bedroom. Hurriedly she
dressed again and went into the kitchen to make a drink. When she returned to
Alvin's room he was lying against the pillows, his pyjamas of dark grey silk
unbuttoned at the neck, his hands lying tightly clenched on the coverlet. He had
taken off his glasses and his eyes were closed.

'Have you had your pills?'

'No.'

She went into the bathroom and came back with two tablets and a glass of water.

'Take these and then have this tea.'

He half sat up and opened his eyes. It was a shock to look into them, and she saw
with concern that the pupils were contracted, the eyelids bruised and sunken. He
swallowed the pills and sipped the drink.

'I'll turn out the light and leave you. If you want me I'll be in the lounge.'

'I can manage on my own,' he said quietly. 'If you've made any plans '

'My plans were a hot bath and bed—alone.'

He lifted his hand and caught hers. 'I'm sorry, Caro. Please forgive me.'

Her heart seemed to miss a beat. Try and go to sleep,' she whispered, 'it'll make
you feel better.'

'I'll try.'

Carolyn switched on the electric fire in the lounge and sat down before it on the
floor. Poor Alvin 1 With such strong lenses he was probably a martyr to
headaches. And working in the laboratories under artificial light would not help
either. She could imagine him poring over test tubes until pain made it
impossible for him to see. Only then would he give in and go home. But once
Ella married there would be no one to take care of him unless he were to get
married himself.
She jumped up and resolutely picked out a book from the shelf. She had been
reading for a long time when the lounge door opened and Alvin came into the
room. He was wearing his dressing gown and his hair was slightly dishevelled.
She jumped up and came towards him.

'Are you feeling better?'

'Yes, thank you. Faintly hungry, which is always a good sign.'

'I don't suppose you've eaten.'

He smiled apologetically. 'The thought of food earlier nauseated me. Have you
had your dinner?'

'An omelette and toast, but that was ages ago.'

'Then I'll get dressed and take you out.' 'I wouldn't dream of it. There's a stack of
food in the kitchen and I can rustle up a meal for you as long as you don't expect
a chefs dinner.'

'I have a chef. I'd rather appreciate some simple home cooking.' He blinked his
eyes and put his hand in his pocket for his glasses.

'Don't put them on,' she said impulsively. 'I'm sure they don't help. Why not give
your eyes a rest?'

'Very well.' He sat down in an armchair and rested his head against the back.
Carolyn took a step towards him impelled by a desire to hold him close. Furious
with herself, she moved back. She must be crazy to think of Alvin in these terms.
Because he had been ill in no way altered his behaviour or her opinion of him.
She must not confuse pity with any other emotion.

'Go inside and sit down,' she said abruptly. 'I'll call you when supper's ready.'

'Can't I watch you make it?'

'If you like.'

'I would like. I've rarely got the opportunity to be in a kitchen.'

Conscious of him watching her, she searched for tins in the small pantry and set
about preparing a mushroom omelette.

'Smells good,' he said as she started heating the butter in a pan.

'Will you eat here or in the lounge?'

'It's less bother to have it here. I can't remember the time when I had a meal in
the kitchen.'

'Weren't you ever a little boy?' She turned the omelette on to a plate and set it on
the table. She piled up the toast and poured out the coffee. 'Sit down and have it
before it gets cold.'

'Of course I was a little boy,' he said as he began to eat, 'but Ella and I weren't
allowed in the kitchen.'

'That's no way to bring up kids. When we were old enough not to do any damage
we were always allowed into the kitchen at the orphanage.'

'My father was rather strict.'

'He died when you were very young, though, didn't he?'

One fawn eyebrow arched. 'By that time I already had too many responsibilities
to revert to childhood. I imagine you had more fun than Ella and I—despite
being brought up in the orphanage.' He put his knife and fork on the empty plate.
'That was excellent. I feel much better.'

'I'm glad. Some more coffee?'

'No, thanks.'

She began to pile the dishes in the sink. He watched her run the water and then
came over with a plate in his hand, holding it helplessly in front of him.

'Heck,' she laughed, 'put it in the sink, it won't bite.'

He obeyed. 'Can I help you wipe?'

'Do you know how?'

His eyes looked into hers. 'I can try,' he said gravely. 'I'm very good at learning.'

Abruptly she gave him a tea-cloth and concentrated on the dishes in the sink.
Methodically he wiped each knife and fork and then started on the plates.
Carolyn was intensely aware of him, a feeling so high inside her she was afraid it
would show on her face.

'Here's the last one,' she said, and handed him a plate, still soapy and warm.

He reached out to get it and it slipped from his fingers. Simultaneously they bent
to catch it and their heads bumped together. Tears stung Carolyn's eyes and she
would have fallen back had Alvin not reached out and caught her.

'Are you all right?' he said against her ear.

She turned her face towards his and the words she had been about to utter were
stifled as his mouth came down on hers.

In a flash the misunderstanding and harsh words that had ever been uttered by
them dissolved into nothing, and they were made indivisible by the most
primitive, unexplained force in the world. Carolyn clung to him, afraid that if she
opened her eyes she'd find it a dream. But this was no dream. Alvin's breath was
warm on her face, his fingers gentle as they caressed the smooth skin of her
shoulders and the soft curve of her breasts. 'Caro, darling,' he muttered huskily.

For an instant she resisted, but passion overcame fear and she pulled his
trembling body against hers and put her hand on the back of his head. At last she
knew the truth about herself; recognised the real reason she had felt such
antagonism towards him. It had not stemmed from his behaviour towards her—
she now realised that in ordinary circumstances she could have ignored his
rudeness—but because of the subconscious impact he had made on her had been
so strong, she had fought desperately to win his respect, hoping, deep inside her,
that if she were able to do so she might then stand a chance of winning his love.

Alvin's love! Now she could admit it without despising herself. She wanted
Alvin's love.

'Darling,' she whispered, 'I love you.'

Gently he kissed her lips his passion penetrating to the very heart of her. She was
conscious of an overwhelming desire to become a complete part of him, and
strained close against his chest. Reality receded and she seemed to be enveloped
in a darkness pierced by a thousand flames that made her cry out with longing.
Her breath came in gasps and there was a ringing in her ears, a ringing that
persisted and grew louder until she finally pulled away from him.

'Alvin,' she gasped. 'Alvin—the telephone!'

He leaned against the wall, staring down at her uncomprehendingly.

'The telephone,' she repeated.

With an effort he straightened and walked into the lounge, and Carolyn sat on a
kitchen chair and closed her eyes, opening them again as he came back into the
room.

'It was Mrs. Nichols. She's been trying to get the number of the flat for the past
two hours, but it's ex-directory.'

'What's wrong?'

'It's Piotr. He——— '

'What's happened to him? Alvin, what is it?'

'I'm trying to tell you,' he said gently. 'He was walking back from school with the
maid and a car came down the lane and hit him.'

'Oh, my God!' She struggled to her feet. 'Is he dead?'

'No.'

'Tell me the truth, Alvin, I've got to know the truth!'

'I'm telling you the truth. He's got a fractured leg and minor concussion. But he
isn't dead.'

'A fractured leg?' She clutched Alvin's arm. 'He might be left with a limp! Oh,
God! I should never have come to town and left him.'

'Don't be ridiculous. It could have happened even if you'd been with him.'
'Who was it—do they know?'

'No.' He frowned. 'That's the awful thing. The driver just drove straight on.'

'How dreadful! He's got to be traced. I won't let him get away with it.' She began
to cry, and Alvin disappeared, returning with a glass of brandy.

'Drink this, while I put on slacks and a sweater. I'll be with you directly.'

The drive down to Terring was a nightmare. It was a stormy night and torrential
rain cut their visibility to twenty yards. Alvin drove fast, relying on the cats' eyes
that winked down the centre of the road for his direction. Carolyn sat hunched in
the corner and Alvin, his head bent forward, concentrated on his driving.

'Another hour and we'll be there,' he said.

'It seems like a lifetime.'

'We've been doing sixty.' He glanced across at her. 'I daren't do any more on
roads like this.'

'I didn't mean that. You've been wonderful, Alvin.'

'Forget it.'

He set his foot harder on the accelerator and the Bentley shot forward mile after
mile. Fascinated, Carolyn watched the flickering hand of the speedometer—
sixty-five, sixty-six, seventy miles an hour. She felt a constriction round her
throat and moved uneasily in her seat.

The roundabout was upon them before they realised it and with a screech of
brakes Alvin twisted the steering wheel sharply. Carolyn felt the car shudder and
it slithered forward, rocketing towards the white barrier in the centre of the road.

She buried her head in her hands as the car half lifted in the air and swung in a
violent circle. Miraculously it straightened, skidded along the edge of the barrier
and righted itself to continue along the straight road running in the direction of
Chichester.

Carolyn wiped her forehead with a shaking hand and leaned wearily against the
seat. She was too dazed to say anything, and it was some time before she noticed
that the car was slowing down. Trees that had once been flashing by came at
slower intervals, the whine of the engine grew softer and the motion steadier.
She turned to look at Alvin. In the light of the dashboard his face looked green,
his mouth pressed into a tight line with beads of perspiration glimmering on his
upper lip. He was hunched over the wheel, his hands gripping it so tightly that
the knuckles stood out white.

'Alvin, you're in pain again!'

'It's my head,' he gasped. 'I'll have to stop for a minute. I can't see. That damned
roundabout finished me off.' The car drew to a halt and he bent forward and
rested his head on the steering wheel. 'I'll be all right soon. I'm sorry I had to
stop.'

'How far are we from your house?'

'About a mile.'

'Then you must take me there. Your chauffeur can drive me the rest of the way.'

'I'll take you.'

'Don't be absurd. You can't drive the way you feel. Besides, it'll take five times as
long.' She leaned forward and touched him. 'Darling, don't be obstinate.'

'All right' He set the car in motion again, but he drove slowly, his face screwed
up with pain. The wide mahogany doors opened at the signal of their headlights,
they bowled up the drive past the tower and, ignoring the flagstoned terrace
where Jeffrey had parked, shot round the side of the house and down a sloping
ramp to come to a stop in front of a wrought- iron door.

Alvin climbed out gingerly and Carolyn pressed the bell.

The door was opened by a butler. 'Good evening, Mr. Tyssen.'

Alvin leaned against the wall. 'Get the chauffeur, will you? I want him to drive
Caro—Mrs. Kolsky to Royston at once.'

The butler disappeared and Alvin walked unsteadily across the marble hall and
into a circular room lined with books. There was a murmur of surprise and
Romaine Anderson, clad in a filmy negligee, uncurled herself from a deep
armchair.

'Darling! I'd almost given you up.'

Carolyn drew back a step as Romaine ran across the room and twined her arms
around Alvin's neck. 'Darling, you're so pale,' she said huskily. 'Come and have a
drink.'

'There's someone with me.' Alvin drew Romaine's hands down to her sides.
'Come in, Carolyn.'

Afraid that her trembling legs would not hold her, Carolyn entered the library.

'Good heavens, what are you doing here?' Romaine said.

'I have to get back to Royston. My stepson's had an accident.'

The dark eyes narrowed. 'How did you meet?'

Alvin slumped down in a chair and closed his eyes.

'You'd better not talk to him,' Carolyn said coldly. 'He's got an attack of
migraine.'

Romaine knelt by his side. 'Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I'll kiss it better
for you.' She leaned over and pressed her lips against his cheek. 'And take off
your nasty old glasses.' The scarlet-tipped fingers fumbled at the frames and as
she bent to put the glasses on the arm of his chair, her negligee parted to show an
expanse of shapely bare leg.

Not waiting to see more, Carolyn turned and ran into the hall as the chauffeur
came through the front door.

'The car is waiting, madam.'

CHAPTER TEN
Piotr's accident turned out to be less serious than had first been thought. His leg
had broken clearly and the concussion was mild enough to leave him with only a
headache for a couple of days.

The specialist called from London wanted to send him to hospital, but Carolyn
decided against it.

'I'm a trained pediatric nurse,' she explained, 'and even if he needed traction I
could arrange for it to be done here.'

'Complete rest is the only thing in a case like this,' the specialist said. 'But make
sure you get enough!'

Carolyn smiled, but during the week to come she remembered the advice, though
she was unable to take it.

Piotr was a fretful patient and she was kept on her feet all day, while at night,
even though she was exhausted, the memory of Alvin kept her from sleeping.
Bitterly she relived her spontaneous surrender to him, remembering that all the
time he had been holding her, Romaine had been waiting for him at his home.
Every word of their conversation came back to haunt her and every response he
had aroused returned with renewed force to taunt her. What a mockery his
passion had been, aroused only by propinquity. If his migraine had not made it
impossible for him to return to the country, nothing would have happened
between them. Had it not been for that he would have been spending the evening
with Romaine. If only they had never met, and she had never known the joy and
wonder of being held in his arms.

In her hurt she turned to Derek for affection, and though he did not know the
reason for her changed attitude, he accepted it with delight.

Once or twice she almost told him the truth—feeling it unfair to let him believe
she was beginning to care for him—but each time pride kept her silent.

'I've never seen you look so pale,' Derek said one afternoon when he called
round to see her. 'You must let Margaret help you. She's not a trained nurse, but
she's had enough experience to be able to take care of Piotr.'

'I'd rather take care of him myself.'

'And I'm interested in taking care of you. Anyway, Margaret was going to stay
here—we'd arranged it before the accident.'

Carolyn sighed and looked at herself in the mirror over the drawing-room
mantlepiece. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her cheekbones were
accentuated by a new hollowness. 'I can't seem to shake off this tiredness,' she
admitted.

"You need a rest. Margaret will come up tomorrow. Will it be all right if she
sleeps here?'

'Certainly.'

He crossed the room and drew her into his arms, rubbing his beard against the
side of her face. 'I hate seeing you so depressed. There's no need for it,
sweetheart. Piotr's doing fine.'

'It isn't just Piotr,' she said. 'It's…' she turned and leaned her head on Derek's
shoulder.

'What's wrong, Carolyn? Let me help you. I know you're upset about something.'

'No, I'm not,' she lied. 'I just feel tired and empty and unwanted.'

'Unwanted?' His arms tightened round her. 'I want you more than anything else
in the world. Don't you know that?'

'Do you really?' she asked. 'Is it me you see or the woman who's got charge of
Piotr?'

'Charge of…' his voice dropped. 'Is that what you think of me? That I'm a man
who'd sell himself?'

'It isn't a question of selling,' she protested.

'What other word would you use?' He pushed her away. 'For years I lived in
attics and starved because I wouldn't sell out on my talent—yet you dare suggest
I'd sell myself. My God!'

She had never before seen him so angry. Gone was the humour in his face and
the whimsical banter in his voice. 'I'm sorry, Derek. I didn't mean to upset you.'

'You've done more than that. You've made me angry at the way you belittle
yourself.' He saw the surprise on her face and nodded his head vigorously. 'Yes
—belittle yourself! Look in the mirror, Carolyn. Take a good look and tell me if
you think you're the sort of woman that needs to be an heiress before a man will
ask her to marry him. Do you think I'd give up my freedom for a woman I didn't
love just in order to have money? If I wanted cash so desperately I could have
become a society painter years ago. Damn it, Carolyn, the only reason I'm doing
it now is so I won't be dependent on you.'

Regretting her accusation, she ran over to him. 'I'm sorry, Derek. I had no right
to say what I did. I guess I'm overwrought.'

He pushed her away. 'Don't make meaningless apologies.'

'It's not meaningless. I'm sorry—really I am.'

She looked at him pleadingly and saw the tenderness leave his body. He looked
all of his thirty-four years. There were deep-set wrinkles around his eyes which
she had assumed were laughter lines, but now, looking at him with more
understanding, she realised that they had been etched by fatigue and work. She
could imagine the years he had spent trying to prove himself as an artist without
belittling his talent by taking the easy way out, and she wished she could undo
the words she had said. 'Please forgive me, Derek, but after the way the Nichols
have behaved I find I suspect everybody.'

'I understand,' he said slowly. 'But I can't bear it when you're suspicious of me.'
He put his hands on her shoulders. 'I wish you'd marry me, Carolyn, there's no
reason to wait. I know you don't love me as much as I love you, but once you
were my wife I'm positive things would be different. Give me a chance to protect
you.'

'Don't rush me,' she pleaded. 'Let's wait until Piotr's completely better.'

'He'll get better far more quickly than you,' Derek said. 'You're as tense as an
overwound spring.'

Afraid at the closeness of his scrutiny, she made a pretence of looking for a
cigarette and, in doing so was able to walk away from him. 'It's not so easy
looking after Piotr,' she hedged. 'Being in bed the whole time makes him
irritable.'

'Then let Margaret come here. She was going to come here anyway, and she
might as well start now.'

The idea of having Margaret in the house did not appeal to her although she
could not explain why; nor would she have done so for fear of hurting Derek.

'Is she well enough to work?' Carolyn asked.

'Of course. You know we arranged she'd come over and take care of Piotr.' He
took his pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it. 'As a matter of fact she might
as well stay here the whole time. It will do her good to get away from the cottage
and it will do you good not to have to take care of Piotr.'

'I suppose so,' she admitted.

'I'll tell her to start right away.'

Margaret arrived at Royston the next morning and took over all the duties
concerning Piotr. Carolyn had not envisaged the woman taking complete control,
but for the first few days she was glad of the rest and realised that Derek had
been right She was more tired than she had realised.

Piotr's illness had affected the entire household, and everything seemed to
revolve around him. Cook concocted special delicacies to whet his appetite and
Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey brought him so many toys that Carolyn felt bound to
protest.

'You can't go on spoiling him,' she said one evening when

Jeffrey came home carrying a large Meccano set. 'It's only two days ago you
bought him a construction building.'

'This is much better, though—besides, I'm looking forward to playing with it

myself.' The smile left Jeffrey's face as he put the box on the table. 'I'd like to get
my hands on the driver who knocked him down.'

'Have the police been able to trace the car?' Mrs. Nichols asked.

'Not yet. There isn't one single clue.' He moved over to the door. 'I'll go up and
see Piotr before he settles down for the night.'

'Margaret's giving him his supper,' Carolyn said quickly.

'In that case I'll stay here.' Jeffrey turned back into the room. 'I don't want to say
anything about your future sister-in-law, old girl, but I think she's a bit of a
battleaxe. I've a feeling that——- ' He stopped as Betty knocked on the door and
opened it. She looked at Mrs. Nichols.

'Cook wanted to know if dinner is at the usual time.'

'Yes,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'and Mr. Tyssen will be having it with us.'

It was the first time Carolyn had heard that Alvin Tyssen was dining with them,
and the thought of seeing him again was so repugnant to her that she decided to
have dinner in her room. Yet to do so without a reason would arouse Mrs.
Nichols and Jeffrey's curiosity, and she wondered desperately what to do.

'What's wrong?' Mrs. Nichols asked her. 'You're frowning.'

'I've got a headache,' Carolyn lied. 'I think I'll go out for a walk.'

'But it's windy and raining.'

'The fresh air will do me good.'

Quickly she collected her coat and hurried from the house. She was nearly at the
end of the drive when the Tyssen car shot past her and she drew back into the
bushes until it was out of sight. No one had mentioned that Ella or Alvin were
coming for dinner and she wondered resentfully whether Jeffrey had done it on
purpose. She had not seen Alvin since he had driven her down to Terring and, if
she could help it, she would not see him again. Once Jeffrey was married there
would be no reason why Alvin should come to the house, and she would impress
on Ella not to invite her over when her brother was at home. She walked slowly,
head bent against the wind that blew in sharp gusts and almost threatened to
blow her off her feet. It was bitingly cold, but the stinging sensation against her
face was exhilarating and she battled on. Her eyes smarted and she half closed
them. It was for this reason that she did not see the oncoming man until she was
almost in front of him.

Alvin stopped and she tried to walk past.

'Wait a minute, Carolyn. Where are you going?'

'For a breath of fresh air. I thought I saw your car go up the drive.'

'You did, but I got the chauffeur to let me off here. I needed a walk.'

'Don't let me stop you.' Again she tried to move, but he barred her way.

'How's Piotr?'

'Much better, thanks. And thank you for the fruit you sent him.'

He peered into her face. 'You're not looking well, though, what's the matter with
you?'

'I'm feeling tired. I hope you're better,' she said politely.

'Yes, much better. There's something I'd like to explain.'

"You don't owe me any explanation. We both lost our heads a bit, that's all. I'm
glad I was able to find out you can be human. I almost doubted it before.' She
laughed nervously. 'Hell, it's even given me something to think about. The great
Alvin Tyssen able to forget himself and kiss a girl as if he knew how!'

'Don't talk like that.' His fingers dug into her arm. 'It's not like you to be bitter
and cynical.'

'Why not? You called me hard and a gold-digger not long ago. Surely you
haven't changed your mind?'

'I'm damned if I know,' he said harshly. 'When I first saw you I was sure, but now
——-'
'Would you like to experiment again, or was that your maximum effort?'

'Please!' He put his hand on her arm. 'You're saying these things because you're
hurt.'

'If I were Mrs. Anderson I'd be hurt more. After all, you went straight from me to
her.'

For the first time she saw him change colour. 'You hit hard, don't you, Carolyn?'

'Only when I'm hit first.'

Before he had a chance to reply she slipped past him and was soon lost to sight
in the dark.

Carolyn did not return to the house until she knew the family were all settled in
the dining-room. Quietly she went into the kitchen and asked Cook if she would
prepare a tray. 'I'll have it in the day nursery with Miss de Mancy.'

Ignoring Cook's look of surprise, she went up the back stairs and along the first
landing. Margaret was sitting beside the fire in the nursery, the door leading to
Piotr's room half open, and she smiled bleakly as Carolyn came in.

'He's settled for the night. I hope you're not going to disturb him.'

'Not if you don't want me to.' She sat down. 'I thought I'd have supper here with
you. Though why you won't come to the dining-room I can't for the life of me
figure out.'

'When I'm on duty I like to respect the rules, it's so much simpler.'

'But you're my future sister-in-law. I didn't ask you here professionally!'

'I've got complete charge of Piotr, and that's the same thing.'

With relief Carolyn saw Betty come into the room and set the table for their
supper.

'I told Mrs. Nichols you wouldn't be coming down and she said all right. Just
ring the bell when you want me to bring coffee.'
The telephone rang in the distance and Betty hurried out. They heard her running
down the stairs and then come up again a moment later.

'It's for you, Mrs. Kolsky,' she panted, 'Mr. de Mancy.'

Derek was apologetic on the telephone. 'I'm sorry I can't get over tonight, but I'm
starting Mrs. Anderson's portrait in the morning and I've got to prepare the
canvas.'

'If I'd known I'd have come down to the cottage.'

He cursed mildly. 'I'd come up for you in the car, but it's out of order.'

'Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow instead.'

'I'll be at Tyssen's house all morning. Mrs. Anderson is staying there while I
paint her. Carolyn, are you there?'

'Yes, but the line's bad. I'll ring you back later.'

'Could I have a word with Margaret first? She's cleared up some of my paints
and I'm darned if I can find them.'

'O.K. I'll get her on the line. Hang on.'

Margaret was annoyed that she had to go and speak to Derek. 'If he'd look
properly he'd find them,' she grumbled. 'Tell him they're probably under his bed.'

'You tell him,' Carolyn retorted, 'he's your brother!'

Margaret marched out and Carolyn sighed. She could hear the murmur of
conversation in the hall and wondered why she could not like her future sister-in-
law. She glanced at the nursery door and impulsively walked into the room. She
stopped, aghast. The windows were both wide open and a damp wind blew the
curtains. Piotr lay half uncovered and the cold air was blowing against his body.
She pulled the covers over him and hurriedly closed the windows.

'What are you doing in here?' Margaret said from the doorway.

'I came in to look at Piotr and found the windows open.'

'Fresh air's good for him.'

'Not when it's blowing in from the sea at half-past eight at night. It'll give him
pneumonia.'

'Of course it won't! You'll make him soft, the way you carry on.' Margaret's face
was mottled with temper. 'You've no right to interfere.'

'Aren't you forgetting yourself? Piotr's my stepson, and I also happen to be a

nurse.' She walked out of the room. 'Come and finish your supper, Margaret. I
don't want to quarrel with you.'

Margaret resumed her seat in silence and Carolyn tried to make conversation.
'Did you manage to help Derek find his paints?'

'No. I'll have to go to the cottage myself tomorrow and have a look. If Derek's
portrait of Alvin's lady friend is successful it could lead to a lot more work. Why,
he might even do one of Mr. Tyssen himself. Those sort of men always like to
have their portraits hanging in board rooms.'

'I doubt it Alvin would have the patience to sit.'

'I haven't much patience to sit either. If you don't mind, I'll go and have a bath.'

Reluctant to stay alone in the nursery, Carolyn walked along to her bedroom and
did the same, but lying in the soapy water brought no relaxation and she was still
awake in bed when she heard Alvin's precise voice say good night to Jeffrey and
Mrs. Nichols on the front step. The car door slammed, the engine purred into
life, grew louder and slowly died away, and Carolyn turned her head into her
pillow and began to cry.

As Christmas drew near, preparations were made to decorate Piotr's room. Ella
was giving a large Christmas party and although Carolyn had not refused, she
had no intention of going.

'This will be the first Christmas for years that we've had a child in the house,'
Mrs. Nichols said. 'I never believed it when I was told that women were more
stupid over their grandchildren than their own children, but that's certainly the
case with me. He's a little thing, but he's made all the difference to the place.
And to think I didn't want you to come here!'
'Do you mean you haven't any more regrets?'

'Not about the money. Jeffrey's getting married soon so I don't have to worry
about him, and my own annuity is enough for me.' Mrs. Nichols looked round
the room. 'It'll be pleasant to have just the three of us here. Although I suppose
you'll soon be getting married yourself.'

'I want to wait until Piotr's better.'

'You worry about the child too much. You're as bad as I am.'

'I can't help it. Particularly when I think how nearly he could have been killed.'
Carolyn put her hands to her temples. 'And then the damn money would have
come to me. That would have been the end.' She jumped up and paced the room.
'I've been on to Mr. Arnold again and he's promised to see a Q.C. early next
week to try and find a solution. I don't care how he works it as long as you and
Jeffrey become the beneficiaries instead of me. I feel that…'

She stopped and looked towards the door. Margaret was standing there and
Carolyn had the uncomfortable impression she had been listening for a long
time. 'It would serve her right if we'd been talking about her,' she thought.

'Come in, Margaret,' Mrs. Nichols called. 'I haven't seen you all day.'

'I'm going out for a walk. Piotr's having a rest and I'll be back before he wakes
up.'

She turned on her heel and disappeared and Mrs. Nichols looked at Carolyn,
made a face and diplomatically said nothing.

The following morning the specialist came to remove Piotr's cast and Carolyn
watched anxiously as it broke away to disclose the leg and thigh.

'I don't think there's anything to worry about there,' the doctor said in an
undertone. 'The X-rays couldn't be better. These young bones knit together
quickly.'

'Not quickly enough. It seems like a year that he's been in bed.'

'Could you prescribe some medicine?' Margaret interposed. 'His appetite has
been poor this last week.'

' 'Cos the food tastes funny,' Piotr said, wrinkling his nose. 'I don't want to eat it,
but Margaret makes me.'

'And so she should, or you won't grow up to be a big strong fellow.' The man
patted the dark head and then with Carolyn at his side left the room.

Later that day she went upstairs again to speak to Margaret. 'You never
mentioned to me that Piotr wasn't eating well.'

'I didn't want to bother you. You worry too much about him as it is.'

'I'm still entitled to know.'

Margaret's eyes filled with tears. 'I'm perfectly able to look after Piotr without
coming to you every minute. Don't you trust me, Carolyn?'

'Of course I trust you,' Carolyn stammered, 'but I like to know what's going on.'

'I'm the nurse in charge of him.'

'I know you are. You point it out often enough. You don't want to be regarded as
my future sister-in-law, so I've done my best to see that you're treated in a
completely professional way and, professionally speaking, you're obligated to
report to me as Piotr's stepmother.'

'I'm obligated to report to the doctor.'

'Only when you're in a hospital.' Carolyn's voice softened. 'I don't like
quarrelling with you, but your attitude makes it impossible for us to be friends.'

'I'm sorry. It's because I've been ill.'

'Perhaps you should stop working here. I can easily manage Piotr on my own.'

'No, no!' Margaret's hands twisted convulsively. 'I like looking after him. Don't
send me away. I want to stay here.'

Carolyn sighed. 'I will if you promise to take a little more time off. You've been
cooped inside too long.'
'I don't need any time off. I hate walking anyway. The roads here are like rivers
of mud.'

'Why not borrow the car and drive into Chichester to the pictures?'

'Thank you,' Margaret said composedly. 'I will.'

It was only when she was going downstairs that Carolyn remembered this last
remark. Surely Derek had told her his sister could not drive? Yes, he certainly
had. She frowned and rubbed the side of her face. Perhaps Margaret had learned
to drive in the meantime. It was certainly necessary, living out in the wilds like
this.

She walked into the deserted drawing-room and picking up her knitting, sat
down on the settee. Now that Piotr was on the road to recovery Derek would
start asking her to name a date for their wedding. Since the day when—shamed
by the knowledge of her love for Alvin—pride had made her turn to Derek, he
had done everything in his power to make her feel like a woman who was loved.
The fact that her response was a pretence—made for the benefit of the Nichols
and particularly Ella—had in no way impinged on him, and she was faced with
the dilemma of either marrying a man she did not love, or telling him the truth
and ending their engagement. Yet to do the latter would immediately become
known to Alvin, and the very thought that he might—even for an instant—
believe her response to him in the flat had been a real one—filled her with such
determination to prove the opposite that it was even better to marry Derek than
for Alvin to have the faintest suspicion that she cared for him.

Unable to stop herself, the memory of Romaine, her body visible through its
filmy negligee as she had bent over Alvin, came back to taunt her, and she
buried her head in her hands and wished she had never set foot in England and
met Alvin Tyssen. Even in the few moments when they had met last week she
had sensed he was sexually attracted to her. Yet for a reason she still could not
fathom he was determined to dislike her. Could he be afraid that if he allowed
himself to fall in love with her he would no longer be his own master? Was that
why he felt Romaine suited his requirements? Even as his wife, with his fortune
at her disposal, Romaine would be the least demanding of women as far as his
time was concerned. 'But I wouldn't,' Carolyn thought. 'If Alvin were mine, I'd
want to share all his thoughts, all his every problems.' Her eyes brimmed with
tears and unable to stop herself she began to cry.
'Indeed and all, I've never known a girl shed so many tears during her
engagement!'

With a start Carolyn looked up to see Derek towering over her. 'It's just nerves,'
she lied. 'They took the cast off Piatt's leg today.'

'How is he?'

'Wonderful.'

'Then that's reason to be happy, not miserable.' He handed her a handkerchief.

'Here, wipe your eyes or you'll make me wet.' He sat beside her and caught her
hand. 'Surprised to see me?'

She nodded. 'I thought you were with Mrs. Anderson, working on her portrait.'

'She's in London today.'

'How's it getting on?'

'Very well. But for the rest of the sittings she'll be coming to the cottage. I can't
work in Tyssen's home. The atmosphere gets me down.'

'Is she pleased with the portrait, or hasn't she seen it yet?'

'No, she hasn't. But she'll love it. I've done a straight piece of work without any
adornment.' He took out his pipe and sucked on it. 'She's a beautiful woman.'

'If you like that type.'

Carolyn spoke so coldly that Derek pulled her into his arms. "You know the type
I like, sweetheart—and it's not a beautiful woman with no character behind it.'

'I think she's got a lot of character,' Carolyn replied dryly.

'But not the kind for me.'

'She's just out for what she can get.'

'I don't think she's getting much of it at the moment,' he grinned, 'leastways not
from the sex point of view.'
'How do you know?'

'She let something slip the other day. I gather he's more lavish with his money
than with his love.' He tilted Carolyn's chin. 'Don't let's waste time talking about
Romaine. I want to talk about you.' He eyed her keenly. 'There's something
worrying you, isn't there? I can see it on your face.'

'It's just reaction over Piotr.'

'It's more than that. Come on, m'darling, out with it.'

She twisted her hands together. How soft her palms were, how long and delicate
the nails; a far cry from the work-worn hands of six months ago; yet she would
have given anything to have been able to turn back the clock. But that was
impossible. Neither the past not the present could be changed—not even the
future, unless she were prepared to tell Derek she could never marry him. She
sighed, deciding for the moment to shelve the problem of their relationship.
Right now there was the problem of Margaret to deal with.

'Well,' Derek said, 'you still haven't told me why you're upset.'

'It's—it's Margaret.'

'Margaret!'

'Yes. I'm afraid she's rather—rather difficult.'

'In what way?'

Carolyn hedged on the truth. 'It's hard to explain. I suppose it's because I used to
look after children too, and I can't get used to Margaret's system. I think it would
be much better if she left.'

'Have you told her?'

'Yes—but she doesn't want to go.'

Derek's bushy eyebrows drew together. 'If you really want her to, I'll see she
does. But I wish for my sake you'd keep her on. She's devoted to Piotr and it'd
make her ill again to be at the cottage doing nothing.'
'Why can't she take a job somewhere else?'

'I'm not happy for her to be too far away from me. She's still a bit edgy.'

'I know,' Carolyn said dryly.

He rubbed his beard with his hand. 'This is a pretty fix. But you're the boss. I
love Margaret, but I'm not going to have you upset. I'll tell her to leave.' He
hesitated. 'Would it be all right with you if I didn't tell her at once? I'd like to
lead up to it.'

Derek's quick acceptance of her desire for Margaret to leave made Carolyn feel
guilty. 'Don't tell her for the moment. I had a few words with her a little while
ago and it might make a difference. Let's wait and see.'

He stepped over and caught her hand. "You're an angel. And now I think you
deserve your surprise. It's waiting for you outside.'

Her face lit up. 'I love surprises. What is it?'

'You're a real kid, Carolyn.' He kissed the tip of her nose. 'It's your portrait. Close
your eyes and I'll bring it in and stand it up over the mantelpiece.'

Carolyn shut her eyes. She heard Derek cross the floor and stop a few feet away
from her. There was the crash of an ornament and a muttered imprecation.

'I've broken one of these damn china cats on the hearth,' he said.

'Fine.' She still kept her eyes closed. 'At least there's no hope of getting it
mended! I might even try and break a few more myself. Hurry up, Derek, I'm
getting impatient!'

'Half a minute. I want to fix it in position.' There was the dull slap of canvas
against the wall. 'That's got it. You can open your eyes now.'

Carolyn did so and stared at the painting above the mantelpiece. The fair hair
seemed to catch every spark of light that came into the room and gave a radiance
to a face that was the epitome of g;race and innocence; an innocence not even
belied by the slanting green eyes that seemed to follow you as you moved.
'Do you really see me like that?' she asked. 'So—so untouched?'

Derek bit the stem of his pipe. 'I do and I don't. This painting got out of hand the
minute I started it. I thought I knew what you were like, but my brush painted
something entirely different.'

'I'm not sure I like that. I thought artists were always supposed to paint what they
see and feel.'

'Also what they know,' he said quietly.

She moved back a step and squinted at the portrait. 'There's not much about me
to know. My life's an open book.'

'Not even a few pages stuck together?'

She laughed. 'That's a crazy thing to say. I've got no secrets from you.'

'I should hope not.' He pulled her into his arms. 'Are you really pleased with it?'

'It's swell.' She looked beyond his shoulder to the painting. 'The only criticism I
can make is that I never wore a dress as low as that. You really used an artist's
licence there. Couldn't you paint a frill or something?'

'A frill?' he roared. 'A frill, when it took me days to get the colour of your skin?
I'll be blowed if I'll hide it with a frill!' His eyes rested on her throat. 'You have a
lovely skin, Carolyn, soft and pink. I'm only sorry I had to paint in the curve of
your breasts from imagination.'

She turned scarlet. 'Don't try and embarrass me, you won't succeed.'

'No?' His hands pressed against her waist and then slowly moved up the front of
her bodice to undo the buttons of her blouse. Carolyn closed her eyes and
suffered his touch. It was gentle and soft and almost against her will a faint
stirring of excitement quickened her pulses. She swayed against him and his
hands grew harder.

'When are you going to marry me?' he whispered passionately. 'I want you,
Carolyn. I'm mad with wanting you.'
'Are you sure, Derek?'

'Never more sure of anything in my life. There's no reason for us to wait now
Piotr's better.'

She buried her face in his shoulder. 'Perhaps after Christmas. As soon as Jeffrey
and Ella are married.'

'Promise?'

'I promise,' she said slowly.

He pulled her close and his lips were warm and moist on hers, his beard soft
against her skin. It was a penetrating kiss that demanded a response and for an
instant, as she remembered Alvin, she struggled against him. But he was strong
and determined, and with a half audible sigh she wound her arms round his neck
and closed her eyes. Perhaps after all it would be possible to find forgetfulness in
this man's arms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With Christmas approaching, Royston Manor was a hive of activity. The warm
aroma of baking seeped through the house and mingled with the smell of wax
polish and furniture cream. Carolyn ordered boxes of Christmas crackers and
decorations from London and they arrived in large cartons to stand in the hall.

'You're letting yourself go, aren't you?' Jeffrey asked two weeks before
Christmas. 'Are you hoping to celebrate the success of my musical?'

'Have they fixed the date?'

"Yes. I heard definitely this morning. The ninth of January's the big day, so get
yourself a party dress.' He pointed to the cartons. 'When are you going to hang
all this stuff up?'

'Right now, if you'll give me a hand.'

'Can't,' he said regretfully. 'The office awaits me. Boy, I can't wait to give it up.
This show's got to be a success, Carolyn. It means everything to me.'

'I'm sure it will.'

He squeezed her arm. 'You're a nice little thing. I wish you weren't…'.He
stopped, shook his head and walked out.

Carolyn sighed. She knew he had been going to comment on her engagement to
Derek. Poor Derek! No one seemed to like him and they certainly made it
obvious when he came to the house. When she was married it would have to be
different; she would insist on that. She undid a cardboard box, took out a handful
of streamers and ran upstairs to Piotr's room. He was perched on the edge of the
bed swinging his leg with Margaret watching.

'How are you this morning, baby?'

'Fine. When can I come down for good?'

'In a couple of weeks.' She showed him the streamers. 'Look at these. I'm going
to hang them all over the house.'
'Oh, Caro, can I help? I'll be ever so careful on the ladder.'

She laughed. 'The only ladders you can climb are in snakes and ladders!'

'But can't I even watch?' the little boy begged.

'We'll see. Perhaps you can lie on the drawing-room couch and make some paper
chains for me.'

'Goodie, goodie!' Piotr flung his arms around her and Carolyn hugged him close.
His skin was damp and she looked at him critically.

'Do you feel O.K., honey?'

'Sure. I just get a pain in my tummy off and on.'

Carolyn looked at Margaret and the woman shook her head. 'It's nothing. He'll be
better when he can have some exercise.'

Carolyn picked Piotr up in her arms. 'I'll take you down with me right now and
we can get busy.'

'He should really stay in bed this morning,' Margaret protested.

'I don't see why. It won't do him any harm to lie downstairs.'

Carefully Carolyn carried her stepson to the drawing-room. A bright fire burned
in the grate and she settled him on the settee with a mound of coloured
streamers. Betty had placed the ladder in readiness and she dragged it over to the
wall, picked up a hammer and some drawing pins and mounted the steps. She
worked busily and after half an hour the room began to take on a more colourful
appearance. Red and blue paper chains festooned the walls and silver tinsel
draped the mirror and the side lights.

'Why not put some above the curtains?' Piotr asked.

'A good idea, but I'll have to climb on to the top step to reach.'

Panting, she carried the ladder across the room. The windows were high
Victorian ones and the velour curtains that draped them were drab and heavy.
'These can sure do with some brightening.'

She mounted the steps with a small box of coloured baubles and carefully began
to pin them across the pelmet It was a difficult task and her arms were stretched
to breaking point. She paused for a moment to wipe her forehead and as she half
turned her head. She heard footsteps cross the hall. They were light and swift.

'Is that you, Ella?' she called. 'I'm here, in the drawing- room.'

The door opened and Alvin came in. Carolyn trembled and held tightly to the
curtain.

'If you've called for Jeffrey,' she said, 'he's already left.'

'I know. He forgot some papers and telephoned me to collect them.'

'That was daring of him!'

'Very.' Alvin's voice was expressionless. "With the approach of his musical he's
presumably no longer afraid of me!'

'What a blow to your pride!' She picked up the hammer from the top step, but
she was trembling so much that it slipped from her fingers and fell with a clatter
on the parquet. Alvin came across and picked it up.

'You wouldn't be afraid of me be any chance, would you?' he asked as he handed

it back to her.

'Why should I be afraid of you? You can't harm me.'

'I wouldn't be too sure of that. There's danger in becoming too complacent,
Carolyn.'

'What's complacent?' Piotr called.

Alvin swung round. 'It means when you're smug.'

'What's smug?'

Alvin's mouth quirked. 'Do you know, I think you've got me stumped there.'
'Smug,' Carolyn said loudly, 'is what your Uncle Alvin is.'

'Do you mean stinking rich?'

'Piotr! What a thing to say!'

'Margaret does.'

'Then Margaret should know better.' Annoyed with herself for changing colour,
Carolyn began to fix the baubles on the curtain again.

'Are you decorating your house for Christmas?' Piotr asked Alvin.

'No, I'm spending it in London.'

'Then you can't come to our party. Caro's invited fifty children and they'll be
staying here a whole week.'

Carolyn pretended not to hear the conversation, but she was conscious of Alvin
back towards her.

'Is this true?' he asked. 'Or is Piotr letting his imagination run away with him?'

'It's perfectly true, but not fifty children, only twenty. They're from a home in
Chichester. You'll miss a lot of fun, but I daresay you've better things to do.'

'If the past could be completely undone there's a great deal I'd like to do.'

'Oh, you and the past,' she said impatiently. 'Why don't you look to the future?'

'We can't all be opportunists!'

Angrily she lifted a paper frill and stood on the topmost step. Her awareness of
Alvin's proximity made her movements jerky and she stretched out and grabbed
the pelmet. Sharply she tapped a drawing-pin into the fabric; the hammer missed
the pin and hit her nail.

'Damn!' She jerked back; her foot slipped and she came crashing down into
Alvin's arms. She could feel him shudder at the impact, but he barely moved his
ground and only by the quickness of his breathing did she guess that she must
have hurt him.
'I'm sorry,' she gasped. 'I missed my footing.'

'I didn't think you'd fall on top of me for any other reason!' She struggled to free
herself, but he held her tightly. 'Haven't you any regrets?' he whispered. 'If you
had the past six months to live over again would you do the same?'

She saw Piotr staring at them curiously and pulled away from Alvin. 'Of course I
would. Exactly the same.'

'Lord!' he said passionately. 'How can such beauty and innocence hide so much
deceit?'

'Deceit about what?' she asked. 'I don't understand you, Alvin. Every time we
meet you fling accusations at me and never explain them. What have I done?'

'You ask me that?' He moved away abruptly. 'If I were in my right senses I'd
never speak to you again!'

'Well, don't! Leave me alone!'

"You'd like me to do that, wouldn't you?' he said forcibly. 'But I'm damned if I
will I I'm going to show you up if it's the last thing I do!'

'If you're still harping on Peter———— ' She stopped as Betty came in.

'It's your chauffeur, Mr. Tyssen. He says Mrs. Anderson is finding it cold in the
car.'

'I'm coming right away.' He moved over to the couch. Have a nice Christmas,
Piotr, and don't eat too many sweets.'

Without a backward glance at Carolyn he left the room.

Try as she might Carolyn could make no sense of her conversation with Alvin.
Surely he still did not think her a gold- digger? Jeffrey and Mrs. Nichols no
longer believed it and Ella never even had. Yet Alvin continued to insinuate that
she was deceitful and calculating! Ella might be right when she said that
Rosemary had deeply hurt her brother's pride. Indeed, from his behaviour it
seemed as though he had still not recovered from the effect of being jilted.
Perhaps this was his way of hitting back?
Later that afternoon she asked Mrs. Nichols whether she thought this could be
the reason for Alvin's behaviour. 'And don't pretend you haven't noticed the way
he acts towards me,' she added. 'It sticks out a mile.'

'I know. But I can't understand it myself.'

'But even you don't believe I married Peter because I knew Piotr was going to
inherit some money.'

'Perhaps I see you from a less biased point of view.'

'But what's he got to be biased about?' Carolyn asked. 'I didn't take Rosemary
away from him.'

'I know. But you've got charge of her son.'

It was an aspect Carolyn had not considered. Yet even while she did so, she
dismissed it. If what Mrs. Nichols had said was true, Alvin would have showed
it in his behaviour to Piotr. But though he hadn't been with the little boy very
much, on the few occasions when he had, he had acted kindly and gently. In fact,
surprisingly so.

'It can't be because of Piotr,' she said.

'Why worry about it? He means nothing in your life.'

'You can say that again! I think he's an insufferable bore.'

Mrs. Nichols lit a cigarette. 'You know, Carolyn, pride can be an awful thing. I
wouldn't like to think it would make you do something… something silly.'

'Such as?'

There was a long moment of silence before Mrs. Nichols spoke. 'Such as
marrying Derek,' she said finally.

Carolyn leaned forward. 'Why don't you like him?'

'I don't dislike him. I just don't think he's the man for you. And as for his
sister…'
'It's probably your dislike of Margaret that's colouring your opinion of him.'

'Perhaps. He's a personable man with a lot of charm, but he's weak and his
sister's got the upper hand.'

'You're wrong there. He just humours her because she's been ill.'

'I don't believe it,' Mrs. Nichols said flatly. 'Tell me one occasion when he's
disagreed with her. Why, he knows very well you don't want her here, yet he's
never asked her to go.'

'I've already talked to him about her,' Carolyn said loyally, 'and she'll be leaving
as soon as Piotr's better.'

'Thank goodness for that.' Mrs. Nichols flicked the ash into the fire. 'I hear you
almost obliterated Alvin this morning?'

'Who told you?'

'Piotr, of course.' His grandmother chuckled. 'With a great deal of dramatic

embellishments. He also said there was someone waiting in the car for him.'

'Yes. Romaine Anderson. It looks as if she's getting what she wants.' Carolyn
could not keep the scorn out of her voice. 'Derek's painting her portrait and I
guess she's used that fact to move in on Alvin permanently.'

'Not according to Ella. He only gave her permission to stay at the house while
Derek needed her every day.' She smiled. 'And I gather he's already regretting
that.'

'He'll be caught and trussed up in matrimony before he knows where he is.'

Mrs. Nichols laughed. 'Perhaps Romaine deserves him! She's worked hard
enough.

Abruptly Carolyn stood up, afraid that if she continued to talk about Alvin she
would give her true feelings away. 'I think I'll go and bath Piotr. I said I would.'

'Braving Margaret's wrath?'

'You said it!'

Carolyn ran upstairs. Piotr was not in his nursery or bedroom and with some
annoyance she heard his laugh coming from the bathroom. She had distinctly
told Margaret she would put him to bed tonight, yet the woman had deliberately
ignored her wishes. Without bothering to knock she pushed open the door and
went in. Margaret was kneeling on the floor.

'I didn't think you were coming up, Carolyn, or I'd have waited.'

'It's only half-past five.'

'Oh dear, my watch must be fast'

Piotr slid to the bottom of the bath. I'm learning to swim.'

'That's wonderful, darling. Show me.'

He slid forward. 'I'm crossing the Atlantic, and going quicker than the boats.'

'Why not the Channel?'

'That's not so big, and the Atlantic's colder.'

Margaret leaned forward, pulled out the plug and hoisted Piotr out of the bath.

'Come along, young man. It's time you were dried. If you'll wait in the bedroom,
Carolyn, we'll be in in a minute.'

'That's all right,' Carolyn said easily, 'I'll wait here.' She sat on the edge of the
bath, knocking a toy duck into the water as she did so.

'My duck!' Piotr screamed. 'Pull him out or he'll drown!'

'Ducks like water,' Margaret said tartly. 'Stop screaming.'

Carolyn bent to lift the duck and her fingers touched the bath water. She
withdrew them quickly. 'Gee, the water's like ice. You couldn't have put much
hot in.'

'Piotr doesn't like it too warm.'

'Yes, I do,' Piotr said, 'but you told me only sissies have it hot'

Margaret's sallow face reddened. 'I've never known a child argue as much as this
one.'

'I like a kid with spirit,' Carolyn said. She slipped to her knees and began to rub
him dry. 'I'll put him to bed, Margaret.'

'There's his temperature to take and—— '

'I know. Do I have to keep on reminding you that I'm a nurse?'

Margaret closed the door sharply behind her.

'When is she going?' Piotr whispered. 'I want you to look after me.'

'I will, honey. Just wait until after Christmas. Isn't Margaret kind to you?'

'She's very kind,' the little boy said seriously, 'and she's going to tell Cook off for
sending such small dinners. Do you know I only had a tiny piece of meat and a
potato for lunch today?'

'Don't tell fibs, Piotr. I'm sure Cook sent up more.'

'She didn't. That's why Margaret had to give me some medicine to stop me
feeling hungry.'

Carolyn buttoned on his pyjamas and bundled him out of the bathroom and into
bed.

'I'll have a word with Cook,' she promised, 'and see to your dinners myself. In a
couple of weeks there'll just be the two of us here.'

Piotr held her close. 'I love you, Caro.'

'I love you too!'

She switched off the light, watched him settle down and then left the room.

Christmas was a family affair. The twenty orphans arrived at lunchtime on

Christmas Eve and though two assistants came with them Margaret took control
into her capable hands.

It was not until the evening, when all the children were in bed, that Carolyn
started to put all the presents beneath the huge fir tree that sparkled in one corner
of the drawing-room. It had not been any problem to buy gifts for everyone, and
for the first time Carolyn appreciated having plenty of money. Gone was the
need to plan her shopping list with one eye on the budget; whatever she wanted
she had bought.

All the children, including Piotr, would get a toy and a constructive game, while
for Mrs. Nichols and Ella and Margaret she had bought gold brooches and for
Jeffrey a portable stereo record player. Derek's present had been the only one she
had found difficult to decide on, and it had come to her forcibly how little she
knew of his tastes. She had finally taken the easy way out, and had bought a
triple set of artist's oil colours.

As she started arranging the gaily wrapped gifts beneath the tree, Ella came over
to help her. These days she looked a different person. Knowing Jeffrey loved her
had given her an inner glow reflected not only on her face but also in her
manner; she was less retiring, more confident in giving an opinion and able to
make jokes and participate fully in the conversation.

'It's a good thing you've got Margaret to help you with the children,' she said as
she knelt on the floor beside Carolyn. 'She certainly knows how to keep them in
order.' 'Too much so,' Carolyn replied. 'I think she's too strict.'

'Make sure she doesn't live with you when you're married. She'd be the worst
possible kind of mother-in-law!'

It was so difficult to talk about her marriage to Derek that she deliberately
changed the subject. 'Have you decided where you're going for your honeymoon
yet? Last time I asked Jeffrey he said Blackpool Tower!'

Ella giggled. 'We'll probably go to France. But it all depends on the musical. If
it's a success Jeffrey won't want to be away too long.'

'And if it's a failure?'

'We'll probably stay home while he works on another musical.' Ella's voice
lowered. 'After we're married he isn't going to work for Alvin. We're taking a
small flat in town and he's going to continue with his music.'

'That's the best news I've heard in years,' Carolyn exclaimed. 'He's got talent and
he should use it. One day he's bound to succeed. Mind you,' she said quickly,
'I'm sure this musical will be a winner. Hiram Walsh wouldn't have backed it
otherwise. He's the toughest man in show business.'

'That's what I keep telling Jeffrey. But he alternates between elation and
despondency.'

'So does Derek. I guess it's the artistic temperament.'

'What are you whispering about?' Jeffrey came up behind them and planted a
kiss on Ella's head.

'You,' she chuckled. 'I have no other conversation.'

'How dull for everyone,' he remarked. 'You should be like Carolyn. She never
talks about Derek.'

'She was just talking about him now,' Ella defended.

'That's a change.' Jeffrey's expression as he studied Carolyn was quizzical, and

she had the strong impression that he knew her true feelings for Derek.

'I'm not as besotted as Ella,' she said dryly. 'I wouldn't——— '

She stopped as Derek came into the room. His black curly hair stood on end and
his face was red and shiny. 'Good heavens! Who have you been fighting?'

Twenty over-excited kids.' He flopped down in an armchair. 'I was helping

Margaret get them settled and they decided to have a pillow fight with me.' He
made an unsuccessful attempt to smooth down the hair. The blighters could have
gone on all night. I know you love kids, sweetheart, but you'll have to curb
yourself when we're married. I wouldn't want another Christmas to be like this
one.'

'It hasn't even begun yet,' Jeffrey said. 'Wait till they get their presents tomorrow
—then you'll really see something.'
Derek grinned. 'That's what I'm afraid of.' He straightened his tie and looked at
Carolyn. 'If I'd known you were going to ask twenty kids, I would have tried to
stop you.'

'You wouldn't have been successful,' Carolyn replied. 'There's no point in having
a house like this and have it empty at Christmas time.'

'If I'd known you wanted a full house there were lots of friends I could have
asked down.'

'I want a house full of children.' Deliberately she emphasised the word 'children',
for this was not the first time Derek had commented on her having invited them
from the orphanage. The first time he had done so, she had been surprised, for
she had assumed he liked children, and after his criticism made several weeks
ago, she had watched his attitude with Piotr, disconcerted to discover that when
he spoke to him his tone was false and over-hearty. To begin with she had
assumed that it came from a shyness which many adults had with children, but
the more she watched Derek, the more she had realised that his manner with
Piotr was not due to shyness but to boredom.

Even today, though he had attempted to be friendly with all the children, she had
sensed it was an act deliberately put on for her benefit. Somehow it was
disquieting, making her realise yet again how little she knew about his character.

'You've got to understand one thing,' she went on seriously. 'I lived in an
orphanage as a child, and I took a job in one when I grew up. For the rest of my
life I'll do everything possible to give as many children as I can a real home.'

'I hope that doesn't mean you intend to keep twenty kids here permanently.'

'Not twenty, but maybe six.'

'You must be out of your mind.' Derek's voice was louder than she had ever
heard it, and the redness of fatigue on his face gave way to the redness of anger.
'When we're married, I'm not sharing you with a house full of kids.'

'We'd better go upstairs and say goodnight to them,' Ella interrupted in

embarrassment, looking at Jeffrey.

Goodnaturedly Jeffrey followed her out of earshot and, left alone with Derek,
Carolyn felt her temper rise. 'I'm not going to be dictated to,' she said frigidly. 'If
I want to have children live with me, I will.'

'You must be out of your mind. I want us to travel when we're married. I want to
see the world, paint landscapes, people from other countries—damn it, Carolyn,
we can't sit back here and rot.'

'I don't consider it rotting to look after children.'

'But it's not a life.'

'Then your idea of life is different from mine.' She got to her feet and smoothed
down her dress. 'I don't want to hibernate any more than you do, but I don't
intend to rush around like a chicken without a head. Of course, we'll travel—but
I don't intend leaving Piotr for more than a month at a time.'

'What about when he goes to boarding school?'

'I don't think one should have children and send them away from home. It's a
British attitude I've never understood.'

Derek opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again. She could see he was
making every attempt to control his temper and knew that whatever he said next
would be false.

'I'm sorry, sweetheart,' his tone was suddenly placatory. 'It's just that I hate the
idea of sharing you. I can't wait to be married, I want to be with you the whole
time, Carolyn, to take you when I want you…'

The thought of being possessed by Derek was suddenly more than she could
bear and she knew that—pride or no pride—and regardless of whether Alvin
guessed how she felt about him, she could not marry any other man. Far better to
be lonely and free then to live with a man you did not love. She looked down at
the signet ring on her finger. If only Alvin had put it there! She closed her eyes.
Where was he now? At a party or dining tete-a-tete with Romaine? She knew so
little about him, yet she cared so much.

'Carolyn!' Derek's voice seemed to come from a long way off and she opened her
eyes and saw that he had leaned forward and was staring at her intently.
'I'm sorry about what I said about the kids. If you want to have twenty living
here for ever I don't mind, as long as I'm living here too.'

She said nothing. Though she longed to tell him the truth, she knew that now
was not the time; no matter the effort it would cost her she could not break off
her engagement until after Christmas, for to do so would put a blight on the
festivities for everyone else.

But now that she had made up her mind what to do she felt an inexplicable sense
of contempt and became aware for the first time how nervous and highly strung
she had been over the last few weeks. It was stupid of her to have put it down to
Piotr's illness; half of it was due to her having stupidly agreed to marry Derek.

'Let's go and join the rest of the family,' she said composedly, 'or they'll think
we're quarrelling.'

Instantly he stood up and placed his arm across her shoulders. He was still warm
from his exertion for the children, and the heat from his body made her feel
nauseated. What a fool she had been ever to think she could ever have a physical
relationship with a man she did not love.

As they returned to the centre of the room, Ella and Jeffrey came back and Ella
looked at her questioningly. Carolyn returned the look with a smile, pleased to
see the girl relaxed. 'I can't tell Derek until after Christmas,' Carolyn reiterated to
herself. 'If only for Ella's sake, I've got to go on pretending.'

The Christmas week-end passed without any further incidents. Derek played
non-stop with the children as though trying to make up for his earlier irritation,
and even Margaret joined in the festivities and gave no one any orders.

'This is the nicest Christmas I've had in years,' Ella said as Boxing Day drew to a
close. 'I hate the thought of leaving here and going back home.'

'You'll soon have your own home with Jeffrey.'

Ella's eyes shone. 'I know—and I can't wait.'

'Have you set the wedding day yet?'

'No. Jeffrey won't make any definite plans until after the opening of the musical.'
'I can understand that,' Carolyn said. 'I guess I'd be exactly the same.'

'I'm just so scared in case anything goes wrong.'

'Make up your mind that it will—then when it's a success you'll have a
wonderful surprise.'

'I hope so,' Ella said fervently. 'I do hope so.' She put out her hand to Carolyn.
'What about coming over to the house to see me? We never meet unless I come
here.'

'This week's hopeless. The children aren't leaving until Thursday, and on Friday
I'm going to London to get a dress for Jeffrey's first night.'

'It's nice to hear you talking extravagantly. Let Darien make something stunning
for you.'

'I'd like Mrs. Nichols to have one from him, but she won't let me pay for it.' Ella
glanced behind Carolyn's shoulder and Carolyn turned to see Mrs. Nichols by
the door. She knew that the woman had overheard, and so she made no pretence.
'I wish you'd change your mind and let Darien do a dress for you.'

'I have changed my mind.'

'You're not kidding?'

'Not at all. I should never have refused in the first place. It was just stupid pride.'

Knowing how stupid pride could be, Carolyn could understand Mrs. Nichols'
feelings. 'Oh, boy,' she said. 'Darien will have to cook up something really
special for both of us. I think I'll have a very low-cut dress in a bright colour.'

'What's got into you?' Ella asked. 'I've never known you so full of beans.'

Carolyn wished she could have said her elation came from a sense of freedom at
her decision to break with Derek, but she was stopped by her determination to
keep the week-end free of tension. Besides, it would not be right to tell anyone
else that she was breaking her engagement before she had told Derek.

But unfortunately fate was against Carolyn. She had planned to tell Derek that
night, as soon as Jeffrey had driven Ella home, but Derek asked them to drop
him at the cottage on their way back.

'My car is in dock,' he explained, 'and I want to do some work on Romaine's

portrait. I've promised it to her for the New Year.'

'What's wrong with your car?' Jeffrey asked.

'It's being decoked.' He sneezed. 'The real trouble is that I need a new one.' He
sneezed again. 'Another few more portraits like Romaine's and I'll be able to
afford to buy one.' For the third time he sneezed and Carolyn put her hand on his
forehead.

'I think you've got a temperature.'

'I wouldn't be surprised. I've been feeling a bit off colour for the last couple of
hours.'

'Stay behind for an hour and I'll drive you back,' she said.

'I can't. I must get cracking on the painting. I should never have spent the whole
week-end here.'

Accepting the fact she would have to delay speaking to him alone, she watched
from the doorway as he drove off with Jeffrey and Ella. Much as she wished she
had been able to give him back his ring tonight, she was at least comforted by
the knowledge that she had made up her mind on her course of action.

Later that evening Derek spoke to her on the telephone, his conversation
punctuated by fits of coughing and sneezing. 'I'd better stay away from you for
the next couple of days. I don't want to give you my cold.'

'I'm not afraid. I'll come over and see you in the morning. I want to talk to you.'

'No. I'm coughing all over the place, and I refuse to have you around.' He
sneezed violently and when he spoke again his voice was thin and tired. 'Did you
want to talk to me about anything special?'

Unwilling to tell him the truth over the telephone, and particularly when he was
feeling ill, she hedged on the answer. 'I guess it'll have to wait. I hate long
conversations on the telephone.'

'Then you're the first woman who does! Take care of yourself, honey, I'll phone
you tomorrow night.'

'You'd better make it late. I'm going up to London to order a dress.'

'Make sure you buy yourself one without a frill in the front.'

She laughed. 'It will be as low as I can decently wear it!'

Carolyn remembered her remark as she and Mrs. Nichols sat in Darien's salon
and watched the mannequins show off his latest collection. She marvelled at the
ease she now felt here and knew without her realising it, that money had made a
subtle difference to her attitude.

'I rather fancy the blue satin for myself,' Mrs. Nichols said.

'An excellent choice,' Darien agreed. 'I can see you still have the same excellent
taste. Who is dressing you these days?'

'The local dress shop!'

'And the same humour too. You must come back here as a client, Mrs. Nichols.'

'She will,' Carolyn said. 'I promise you that. But what have you got up your
sleeve for me?'

'A magical dress,' he said promptly, and snapped his fingers.

A model glided in wearing a dress of emerald green jersey that hugged every
curve of her figure. Breasts, waist and rounded hips were clearly outlined: only
below the knees did it allow sufficient room for movement, and this was
achieved by a long slit which disclosed a slim ankle and green diamante shoe.

'The lady from Shanghai!' Carolyn murmured. 'You don't think I'm going to wear
a dress like that!'

'Naturellement,' Darien said. 'And on you it will look even better. You have more
up here,' he gestured with his hands, 'and less down there.' He gestured again. 'It
is only for you, this dress. Mrs. Anderson wanted it, but she is not tall enough for
such a style.'

Carolyn knew the battle was lost and wondered wryly whether Darien had
purposely mentioned Romaine's name.

'Very well, I'll have it. But only if you're sure it's going to make me a knock-out.'

'My dear young woman, this dress is guaranteed to knock anyone out!' He
smiled. 'Have you anyone particular in mind?'

Carolyn thought of a slim, enigmatic man with silver-blond hair and an

expressionless face.

'Yes,' she said brightly. 'I most certainly have!'

CHAPTER TWELVE
Derek's cold developed into 'flu and Margaret returned to the cottage to look
after him. Thankfully, Carolyn took over care of Piotr and for a week devoted
herself to the boy.

Unexpectedly on the day before Jeffrey's musical Margaret came back, her face
as white as her starched uniform.

'I couldn't let you know I was coming back, Carolyn, the phone at the cottage
was out of order.'

'I didn't think you'd be returning. You look as if you could do with a rest
yourself.'

'The cottage isn't big enough for two of us. Particularly when Derek's in such a
foul mood.'

'Men make lousy patients, don't they?'

Unexpectedly Margaret smiled. 'I hope you aren't annoyed that I've come back,
but looking after Piotr has done me a world of good. I promise I'll leave as soon
as you let him start school again.'

'That's a deal.' Carolyn walked into the breakfast-room, a frown on her face. She
did not want Margaret to remain in the house once she had broken her
engagement to Derek. Not that that was likely to occur for a few days yet: never
had she known a cold take so long to disappear

The day of the musical arrived and instead of travelling up to London at night,
Jeffrey booked a suite at Claridge's and wandered in and out of his mother's
room and Carolyn's asking them to fasten his collar stud, tie his bow and finally
to assure him that he looked presentable.

'Not one will bother to look at you,' Mrs. Nichols said sharply. 'At least, not until
the end.'

'The end!' Jeffrey groaned. 'Oh, my God! I don't think I'll go. I'll stay here—
that's what I'll do—and you can phone the result through to me. If it's good I can
be at the theatre in ten minutes, and if it's bad I'll crawl under the bed!'

'You always used to do that,' his mother said equably. 'Whenever you did
anything wrong I always knew I could find you under the bed.'

'How commendable of me,' Jeffrey said. 'Most people who do anything wrong
are usually in it!'

Carolyn smiled as she heard the conversation and walked through from her
bedroom. 'Is Ella coming here or are we picking her up?' 'They're coming here. I
thought we'd have a drink first.' His eyes widened. 'That's some dress you're
wearing! Lucky Derek's not here or he'd pass out.'

'Sometimes your humour's so infantile, Jeffrey.'

'The emotions that dress arouse certainly aren't! I think I'll have to call you the
serpent!'

'Suits me. Any doubts I had about this outfit have completely disappeared. I feel
quite different in it.'

'You look different. The little girl has gone and a woman of mystery and allure
has taken her place.' He posed dramatically. 'Bring me a piano and I'll compose a
song for you.'

'Compose a drink instead,' his mother said. 'I think I can hear Ella arriving.'

They moved into the lounge and Carolyn bent close to the electric fire.

'Watch out,' Jeffrey said, 'or you'll be had up for indecent exposure!'

'The Italian film stars do it,' she riposted. 'Why can't I?'

There was a knock at the door and Ella, Alvin and Romaine came in.

'Welcome!' Jeffrey boomed. 'What about spending the evening here?

'Idiot!' Ella said fondly, and kissed him on the chin. She looked beyond him to
Carolyn. 'Heaven help me, who is that gorgeous girl?'
'This,' Jeffrey said, waving his arm, 'is Canada's answer to Catherine Deneuve!'

Carolyn flushed but valiantly bore the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes. She was
glad she was wearing exceptionally high heels, for she towered majestically
above Romaine and her eyes were on an exact level with Alvin's.

'My dear,' Romaine moved forward. Her white tulle skirts floated ethereally
around her and her black hair was caught back from her face with two diamond
stars. 'My dear,' she said again, 'aren't you afraid of catching cold?'

To give in now, Carolyn knew, would make her feel riled for the rest of the
evening. She tilted her chin. 'Why should I feel cold?' she drawled. 'I've got love
to keep me warm.'

'You'll need rather a lot to do the trick in that dress!'

'The dress is the trick!'

'Here, here,' Jeffrey interrupted. 'And I'll willingly be the dupe!'

Ella wrinkled her nose. 'I'm devastated with jealousy. I feel like a mouse in
mine.' She dismissed the gold satin maxi-dress she was wearing.

'You're my mouse,' Jeffrey said fondly. 'I'm very partial to them.'

Alvin had still not said a word, although Carolyn was conscious of his gaze
directed at her, his expression, as usual, masked.

'Pour out the drinks,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'or we'll be late.'

'I was hoping we would,' Jeffrey replied. 'It's ridiculous, but I'm scared as hell.'

'Why don't you stay here,' Alvin said unexpectedly, 'and we'll pick you up for the
party afterwards?'

'What party?'

'A celebration dinner at the Savoy.'

'You're pretty confident, aren't you?'

'If you want a thing sufficiently you can make it come true.'

'I wish I believed that.' Romaine sank gracefully on to the settee. 'Heaven knows
I wish hard enough.'

'It depends what you wish,' Alvin said.

'You should know,' she murmured half inaudibly.

'I think we all do,' Carolyn said loudly.

There was a surprised silence and Ella turned away to hide a smile.

'What about the drinks?' Jeffrey said hastily. 'It looks as if we'll need 'em!'

Even when they reached the theatre and had taken their places in the box next to
the stage Alvin had still not addressed one word to Carolyn. The four women
occupied the front seats with Mrs. Nichols and Ella in the centre. Alvin and
Jeffrey sat behind and she bit her lip as she saw Romaine catch Alvin's hand and
hold it.

Hiram Walsh came into their box as the overture was being played, patted
Jeffrey on the back and disappeared again. Jeffrey mopped his brow and as the
curtain rose he sidled out through the door. Ella half rose, but Carolyn shook her
head.

'Leave him alone. You'll make him feel worse.'

'Poor darling,' Ella's eyes glistened with tears. 'I couldn't bear it if it's a flop.'

But from the moment the lovely strains of music resounded through the
auditorium Carolyn knew that 'Waiting for Ella' was going to be a success. The
plot was a simple one, yet the situations were refreshing, occasionally naive and
always touching. The songs were romantic and beautiful, particularly the theme
song of the show:

'Waiting for Ella The whole of my life, As children, as sweethearts, As husband

and wife.'

Carolyn felt the sting of tears in her eyes and fumbled for her handkerchief. Her
bag had slipped to the floor and as she bent to get it Alvin leaned across, a
handkerchief in his hand.

'Use mine.'

She did so and handed it back. He took it without a word, and she turned her
eyes to the stage again. 'Waiting for Ella.' How poignant the title was. If the last
two words were dropped it could be the story of her own life. Waiting… Waiting
for a man who would never be hers; who would never know what he meant to
her. The haunting refrain reached a crescendo as the final scene was played out,
and as the boy and girl on the stage drew close to one another, the curtain
dropped on the last act.

There was a moment of complete silence and then a wave of cheers and clapping
rocked the theatre. People stood on the seats and shouted, programmes were
thrown in the air and the curtains rose again and again.

'We want the author!' chanted the stalls.

'Author!' yelled the dress circle.

'Author! Author!' roared the gallery.

Jeffrey opened the door of the box and peered round. 'I've been in a News
Theatre,' he said hoarsely. 'Did they like it?'

'Like it?' Ella sobbed and laughed at the same time. 'They're crazy about it!'

Jeffrey advanced into the box, his face as white as his shirt.

'You're joking,' he stammered. 'You're joking.'

'Listen to the applause,' Mrs. Nichols said brokenly. 'They want you on the stage.
Go and take your bow.'

'I can't.' He backed towards the door.

'You've got to,' Ella said, her eyes bright with tears. 'They're calling for you.'

'I can't unless you come with me.'

'No, Jeffrey, they don't want me.'

'Without you there wouldn't have been a show. Please, Ella.'

They looked into each other's eyes and Ella nodded silently. Hand in hand they
walked out of the box, but on the threshold Jeffrey stopped. He came over to his
mother and held her tight.

'The Nichols have made it at last,' he said huskily. 'I bet you never thought you'd
live to see the day!'

He hurried out and Mrs. Nichols unashamedly began to cry. Alvin shielded her
from the curious glances of the people in the stalls below them.

'My faith in Jeffrey was justified,' he said quietly. 'It'll make all the difference to
their marriage.' He began to clap. 'Here they come!'

Hand in hand Jeffrey and Ella walked out from the wings.

The clapping increased to a frenzy, but as Jeffrey held up his hand there was an
instantaneous silence. He started to speak and lost his voice. Beads of
perspiration glistened on his forehead and he glanced round nervously at Ella.
She stepped closer and pressed his arm. It restored his confidence and his voice
suddenly boomed out.

'Thank you for your wonderful reception. This is the happiest moment of my
life. And now I'd like to introduce you to the real Ella.' He pulled his fiancee
forward and the cheering started again.

Carolyn stood up. 'I'd better go or I'll make a complete idiot of myself.'

'And me,' Mrs. Nichols said.

Together they walked out of the box and waited in the small ante-room. After a
moment the door burst open and Jeffrey, Ella and a crowd of men and women
came in. Bottles of champagne were opened and toasts were drunk. The room
became smokier and hotter and Carolyn stayed close to the wall and fanned
herself with her programme.

'What did you think of the show?' A gruff male voice addressed her and she
turned to see Hiram Walsh. His round red face had two heightened spots of
colour and with his snow- white hair and twinkling blue eyes he looked like
Santa Claus.

'I adored every minute of it. And so did the audience, which is even more
important.'

'Ba goom,' he said, 'it's time there was a British musical running in a London
theatre.'

'You're not kidding!' Carolyn emphasised her accent, and Mr. Walsh looked
discomfited.

'Trust me to say that to a transatlantic visitor. Don't doubt you're a critic for die
New Yorker!'

'No such luck. I'm a sort of—sort of member of the family, you might say.' She
waved her arm. 'Who are all these people?'

'Designers, critics and some of the cast.'

'It looks like all of the cast,' she murmured as someone knocked against her.

'Aye, it does, but some are still changing. We're all going on to the Savoy with
Mr. Tyssen.'

Carolyn remembered the remark Alvin had made when Jeffrey had left the box
with Ella.

'At least his faith is justified.'

Mr. Walsh looked at her shrewdly. 'More than justified.'

She looked at Alvin talking to his sister and saw the tender look that passed
between them.

'It meant a lot to him,' she said softly. 'A lot.' 'Sixty thousand pounds is a lot to
anyone.'

Carolyn stiffened. 'Do you mean he backed the show?'

'I thought you knew,' Walsh stammered. "You said "I know he did." That's why I
thought he'd told you.'

'I wasn't referring to the show.'

'Then you'd best forget what I said. If Tyssen found out I'd told you he'd have my
scalp. He made me swear not to say a word to anyone.'

Hiram Walsh moved away still looking shocked, and Carolyn leaned against the
wall, equally shocked. So Alvin had put up the money to have Jeffrey's show
produced I She would never have believed him capable of it. This was no
meaningless gesture made by a millionaire to whom money mean nothing. This
was a generosity that showed understanding and warmth.

'Come along, Carolyn.' It was Mrs. Nichols, her coat over her shoulders. 'We're
going to the Savoy now.'

They left the theatre—already empty of the audience—and, piling into cars,
drove towards the hotel. Carolyn was wedged between two male leads from the
cast and she listened with amusement to the backstage gossip that flowed above
her head.

Inside the foyer of the Savoy, Mrs. Nichols and Ella were waiting for her and
they went into the cloakroom to leave their wraps.

Romaine was combing her hair by the mirror. 'I thought you'd been lost en
route!'

'We were waiting for Carolyn.' Ella closed her compact. 'Coming?'

'In a minute,' Carolyn said. 'I want to wash my hands.' She moved over to a basin
and turned on the tap.

'You go on,' said Romaine. 'I'll wait for Carolyn.'

Ella and Mrs. Nichols glanced at one another, then, looking faintly unhappy,
went out.

'I've been hoping we'd get a chance to talk,' Romaine said. 'I haven't yet
congratulated you on your engagement to Derek. He's a charming man and
wonderful painter.'

'Thank you. Is your portrait finished yet?'

'Almost, and Alvin's going to hang it in his private sitting- room.'

Carolyn's heart thumped. 'How nice for him.'

'You don't sound as if you think so.' The dark eyes widened. 'Sometimes I get the
feeling you don't like me.'

'I'm sorry,' Carolyn said coolly. 'I guess I'm not the polite British type!'

The thick white lids closed for an instant. 'You do have an odd sense of humour.
No wonder Alvin finds you amusing. It must be the novelty.'

Carolyn felt her temper rise, but she controlled it and turned back to the basin for
a hand towel.

'I guess my only novelty for Alvin is that I'm one of the few women who doesn't
throw herself at him.'

'Meaning that I do?' Romaine asked. 'Really, my dear, we are letting our back
hair down.'

'I can't help it if you think I'm referring to you.'

'But you were, weren't you?'

'As a matter of fact, yes!'

Romaine shrugged. 'I've adored Alvin for more than a year.'

'Him or his money?'

'How crude you are,' Romaine said distastefully.

'You could call it honesty.'

The woman's eyes half closed. 'Once you've had Alvin as a lover the money
becomes meaningless. Then it's only the man that counts.'
This was more than Carolyn had bargained for and she struck back. 'You must let
me know when the wedding's taking place—if it ever does!'

Deliberately Romaine looked down at the enormous square- cut diamond on her
finger. 'I will,' she said. 'Shall we join the ladies?'

'It would be a change!' Carolyn replied, and led the way out.

The large table Alvin had booked was set some distance away from the orchestra
and Carolyn found she had been placed between the same two men with whom
she had shared a car. Alvin still avoided looking at her, and when the champagne
was served she gulped it down liberally, desperately hoping it would give her the
courage to get through the evening.

As coffee was served the orchestra struck up the first notes of 'Waiting for Ella'
and Jeffrey raised his head. 'That's quick work!'

'When Mr. Tyssen arranges a party,' Hiram Walsh said, 'nothing is forgotten.'

Jeffrey pulled Ella to her feet and this was the signal for everyone at the table to
make a move. Eddie Robins, male lead of the show, caught Carolyn's hand.
'Come on beautiful, let me show you off. Now I've found you I'll never let you
go.'

'That sounds like the lyric of a song.'

'It is,' he grinned. 'Waiting for Ella', Act 1, Scene 3. You know something?' he
said as they began to dance. 'I can go a whole evening and only use dialogue I've
learned from my parts!'

'Prove it.'

He proceeded to so and Carolyn closed her eyes and listened to him. At dinner
Alvin had not exchanged a single word with her, nor once looked in her
direction, and to boost her own morale she had drunk too much champagne.
Now she felt lightheaded and giddy, and everything took on an unreal quality,
making it difficult for her to concentrate on what was being said; not that there
was need to say much, for during the next hour she was swung from one pair of
arms to the other, dancing continuously with the men from the show. From time
to time she passed Alvin on the floor, and every time he seemed to be dancing
with Romaine.

At midnight the orchestra was replaced by a small group. The music stopped for
a moment and Carolyn found herself directly beside Alvin. She glanced at her
partner and saw he was looking at Romaine and, not caring what he thought, she
whispered in his ear: 'Ask her to dance.' As the group swung into a slow,
sensuous rhythm, the young man moved over to Romaine, forcing Alvin to step
in front of Carolyn. Without a word he took her into his arms, his hand ice cold
on her shoulder. Without being able to stop herself, she rested her cheek against
his. From this angle she could see his eyes and the long, soft brown eyelashes. A
desire to pull his head down on her breast was so strong that it was an effort to
appear unmoved.

'I hope you're enjoying the party,' he said stiffly.

She ignored the question. 'It was kind of you to arrange for it for Jeffrey.'

'I'm a kind man.'

'I found that out tonight.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes. Mr. Walsh told me you backed the show.'

His eyelids blinked rapidly. 'For heaven's sake, keep quiet!'

'Why?'

'Because Jeffrey would think his success depended on me.'

'It does.'

'Rubbish! I merely recognised his talent before anyone else.'

'You're a jack of all trades, from chemist to angel, from angel to lover.'

Forgetting they were so close, he moved his head to look at her and inadvertently
his lips touched her cheek. He drew back instantly. 'Are you trying to flirt with
me, Carolyn?'
'Would I succeed if I did?' 'Don't!' he said in a strangled voice. 'It's no use.'

The tremor of his body belied his words and she moved closer and clung to him.
'Why isn't it any use? Answer me, Alvin, you can't walk away and leave me this
time. Even you wouldn't leave a girl alone on a dance floor.'

'The question I just asked you. Would I succeed if I tried to flirt with you?'

'What do you want me to answer?' he demanded.

Again he was silent, but again his body gave him away and she said unsteadily:
'There's no point pretending, Alvin. You want me as much as I want you.'

'That's the champagne talking,' he said in a frigid voice. 'You've drunk too much.'

'So what? At least it's giving me Dutch courage.' She twined her arms around his
neck. 'Do you like my dress, or haven't you noticed?'

'It would be difficult not to notice it,' he said unevenly. 'It's a pity your fiance
isn't here to see it.'

'He won't be my fiance much longer. I'm breaking my engagement.'

His feet missed a step. 'Is that true?'

'Yes,' she hesitated and then said, 'I'd rather live the rest of my life alone than
share my future with him.'

'Future or your fortune? You should think carefully, Carolyn. You know what
happens when thieves fall out.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You don't need my explanation for that.'

'Yes, I do.' She drew a deep breath. 'If you make one more remark I don't
understand, I'll—I'll hit you!'

'I'll hit you back if you do,' he said quietly, and smiled across at Mrs. Nichols
who danced passed him with Hiram Walsh. Not until they were out of earshot
did he speak again.
'Let's not bandy in words, Carolyn. You know as well as I do. If you play with
fire you're liable to get your fingers burned.'

'You did,' she said. 'Is it better?'

'Is what better?' For an instant he looked startled. 'Oh, my hand. Yes, it's better.'
He moved a pace away, although his grip on her shoulder remained hard. 'I wish
I could see into your mind,' he said savagely. 'Tonight, you look as I always
imagined you to be—sophisticated and calculating. Yet at other times you're so
naive and appealing that…' For a moment he stopped as though the effort to
continue was too much, and when he spoke again his voice was harsh. 'Which is
the real you? Tell me that.'

'Would it make any difference if I did? For reasons best known to yourself, you
equate me with the Borgias.'

'A girl who could do what you've done—— '

'What have I done?'

'If you still persist in playing the innocent,' he said quietly, 'make the best of the
next seven days. After that your charade will be over.'

'I'm sick and tired of your riddles. I thought I could get the truth from you
tonight, but it's impossible.' Her eyes filled with tears and she made no attempt
to hide them. 'You see I haven't much pride left when it comes to emotions,
Alvin. I'm not as controlled as you. I thought there was something between us
that meant more—that could have led to…' A sob rose in her throat and she was
unable to continue.

"Your tears don't move me. All you've done is spoil your make- up.'

She clenched her hand against the lapel of his jacket. 'You're cruel,' she
whispered. 'Cruel and heartless. I hate you!'

He did not reply and guided her slowly back to the table, saw her seated and then
intercepted Romaine who was coming off the floor. Carolyn saw them dance
away and through her tears Romaine appeared to be a blur of shimmering white.

Carolyn did not remember the party breaking up, for the remaining hours of the
night passed in a haze of misery. The following morning they returned to the
country, and for the next couple of days the phone did not stop ringing. Everyone
was congratulating Jeffrey on his success and he had given up his job at the
factory in order to look for a flat in London and to concentrate on his next
musical.

The first morning of her return, Carolyn phoned Derek, determined to see him
and break her engagement, but he still insisted she stayed away from him
because he was infectious.

'There's no point in your getting ill as well,' he said.

'But I want to see you,' Carolyn insisted.

'I want to see you too, sweetheart, but wait until the end of the week.'

She put the phone down, depressed that she was unable to see him right away,
for until she told him how she felt, her engagement hung over her head like a
black cloud. Still standing by the telephone, she decided to speak to her lawyer,
and she dialled his number.

His conversation was at least more rewarding, for he explained that he had
managed to find a way of making the money revert to Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey
in the event of anything happening to Piotr.

'Thank goodness for that,' she said. 'I'll come over and see you this afternoon.'

'You'd better wait until Monday. Then I'll have the document ready for you to
sign. Once you've done that, everything will be settled.'

'Till Monday, then,' she said, and replaced the receiver. As she did so there was a
click on the line and she lifted the telephone again.

'Who's there?' she asked. 'Who is it?'

There was no answer and she replaced the phone and crossed the hall. From
upstairs came the sound of Piotr's voice as he spoke to Margaret, and once again
she realised there was an unpleasant task ahead of her. It was time she herself
took charge of Piotr and told Margaret to go. She envisaged the scene that would
take place with Margaret bursting into tears, and probably running straight to
Derek. Carolyn paused with her hand on the drawing-room door. Derek! She had
to see him regardless of whether or not she caught his cold. Far better to cough
and sneeze for a few days than have an unwanted engagement hanging over her
head and an unwanted ring on her finger.

Quickly she turned and went upstairs to collect her coat, at the same time she
popped into the nursery and found Piotr and Margaret doing a jigsaw puzzle
together.

'I'm going to see Derek,' she explained. 'I'll be back for lunch.'

'Where's Grandma?' Piotr asked.

'She's gone to Chichester to do some shopping.'

She ran down the stairs and set out briskly for the shore road. It was a wild
January day, the sky was leaden and a fierce wind tugged her head scarf and
blew her coat against her legs. The road leading to the sea was deserted, the
fields on either side barren. In the distance she saw Derek's cottage, the pink
shutters looking even more dingy than usual. A small Fiat was parked by the
gate and she glanced at it curiously. The front door was closed and not bothering
to knock she walked round the back and into the kitchen. It was empty and she
pushed open the door of the living-room, with a gasp she stopped dead. Romaine
was held tightly in Derek's arms, their bodies locked together. At the sound of
her exclamation Derek lifted his head and, seeing her, drew swiftly back from
Romaine.

'Carolyn!' he stammered. 'I didn't hear you come in.'

'Obviously!' She turned on her heel and he called her name again.

'Carolyn, wait! I can explain.'

'It isn't necessary.' She took off her signet ring and threw it behind her. 'It's saved
me a lot of explanations. Don't follow me, Derek, it's all over.'

'Carolyn! Wait, wait!'

Heedless of his call, she ran down the path and back along the road. Derek and
Romaine! It was unbelievable. So she and Alvin were in the same boat. She
started to laugh, tears streaming down her face at the same time. So much for
Derek's avowal of love! Like most men he merely mouthed the convenient. No
wonder Alvin had asked if she were breaking with Derek in order to protect her
fortune. Perhaps he had known of Romaine's association with him and had been
trying—in his strange way—to warn her? Yet somehow it seemed impossible.
Alvin might want an affair of convenience, but she could not believe he would
continue an association with a woman who was also with another man. And
from the way Romaine and Derek had been kissing it was obvious it was not the
first time. Breathlessly she reached home and sped quickly towards her room.
She was half way down the corridor when Piotr's cry pierced the silence. She
stopped short. The cry came again from the direction of Margaret's room and she
raced along to it and opened the door. Margaret was holding Piotr by the open
window, so engrossed with what she was saying that she was unaware of
Carolyn's entry.

'It's a lovely game, Piotr,' she said. 'All you have to do is stand on the ledge.'

'I don't want to. I'll fall!'

'Silly boy! Of course you won't. Just do as I say.' She pushed him towards the
window and he shouted with fear.

'Put me down, Margaret, I don't want to do it!'

Ignoring his cry, the woman moved inexorably to the window and with a scream
Carolyn rushed across the room. For the moment the two women struggled
together.

'Piotr,' Carolyn panted, 'run down for Betty! Quickly! Quickly!'

The little boy fled and Carolyn tried to pull Margaret's hands from her throat.
The white face was distorted with rage and the thin body was shaking with
anger.

'Why did you come back?' Margaret grated. 'It would have been all over if you
hadn't returned.'

'You fiend!' Carolyn gasped. 'You murderess!'

Still the hands clawed at her throat and she felt herself blacking out. Backwards
and forwards they struggled across the room, knocking against chairs and the
bed, overturning the bedside tables and sending the lamps crashing to the floor.
With superhuman strength Carolyn dug her nails into the distorted face in front
of her, and with a gasp of pain Margaret momentarily relaxed her hold.

Heavily Carolyn hit out, and Margaret fell to the floor, her harsh sobs echoing in
the room.

Betty rushed in and seeing the scene, her face turned white. 'Lands alive, I
thought he was joking!'

'Throw her out!' Carolyn panted. 'I'll send her clothes on afterwards.' She looked
at the crumpled figure on the floor. 'Did you want to kill him so that I could
inherit the money? Well, I never will, and neither will you.' She drew a long,
shuddering breath. 'If you haven't left the district by tomorrow morning, I'll call
the police.'

'Don't tell Derek,' Margaret moaned. 'He loves you and Piotr. If he hears what I
tried to do he'll never forgive me.'

'Don't waste time lying. Your brother is as two-faced as you.'

'No, no, it's not true!'

'I'm afraid it is. You can ask him when you get home.'

Betty helped Margaret to stand up, and stood between her and Carolyn as the
woman pulled a coat from the wardrobe and stumbled out of the room.

Not until she heard the front door close behind her did Carolyn draw another
deep, shuddering breath before she hurried down to the kitchen.

Piotr was sitting on Cook's lap. 'I didn't want to play that game,' he said. 'You're
not cross with me?'

'Of course not, darling. It was a stupid game. You must never stand on a window
ledge. If you did, you would fall and htm yourself very badly.'

'Why did Margaret want me to do it?'

'She was just joking,' Carolyn said quickly. 'She didn't mean it.'

Cook, her face as white as her apron, glanced at Carolyn. 'Has she gone?' she
whispered. Carolyn nodded. 'Why would she do such a thing?'

'The money,' Carolyn mouthed the words so Piotr would not hear.

'She was mad,' Cook said, her voice rising with anger.

Carolyn moved to the door. 'I'll go and pack her things. You keep Piotr here.'

Some twenty minutes later she came downstairs with a phial of white tablets in
her hand.

Betty met her on the bottom stair. 'Mr. de Mancy's in the drawing-room, madam.
Will you see him?'

Carolyn's heart missed a beat, but she forced herself to remain composed. 'Yes.
But you'd better wait within earshot.'

'Don't worry,' Betty said grimly. 'I won't leave you alone with anyone from that
family.'

Bracing herself for the scene ahead, Carolyn went into the drawing-room. Derek
was pacing the carpet, his manner as distraught as his appearance. 'Carolyn,' he
said hoarsely and strode over to her, 'you've got to let me explain.'

'About Romaine or Margaret?'

'Romaine means nothing to me. She's been throwing herself at me for weeks, and
then this morning when she came round she flung herself into my arms like a
mad woman.'

'It didn't look like that to me,' Carolyn said.

'But it's true. You've got to believe me! I didn't want to make her angry because
of her influence with Tyssen, that's why I was——-'

'Kissing her so passionately,' Carolyn finished for him. 'Come off it, Derek.
Surely you can think up a better story than that— or are you saving your talent
for Margaret? What was her innocent reason for trying to murder Piotr?'

'I've no excuses for my sister,' he said quietly, 'except to say that she obviously
hasn't got over her breakdown yet.'

'It was more than illness,' Carolyn said. 'It was evil.'

'No, that's not true. She's mentally sick. I'm taking her to London in the morning
to see a specialist.'

Carolyn sat on the edge of the settee. 'I'm to blame for not seeing it all before.
She's been acting peculiarly ever since she's been here.'

'It's overwork.'

'If every nurse that's been overworking tried to kill her patients, we'd never have
any sick people left!' She sighed. 'No, Derek, you're not being honest. The first
thing that struck me was Piotr complaining about the taste of his food. I think
she tried to poison him.'

'Don't be crazy!'

For answer, she held out her hand and disclosed a phial. 'People take these for
slimming because it causes loss of appetite. She's been giving these to Piotr.
They could have killed him.'

'Holy Mary!' Derek gasped. 'I never realised she was as far gone as this.' He sat
down and buried his head in his hands. 'If only I'd known what was going on in
her mind… I can't believe it…' He looked up, his eyes bleak. 'You're not going to
let this make any difference to us, are you? I love you, Carolyn.' He bent forward
and tried to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away.

'Derek, don't! It's no use. Finding out about Margaret has nothing to do with my
breaking our engagement.'

'But I told you the truth about Romaine,' he said passionately. 'I swear it.'

'Maybe. But it doesn't make any difference. I came round to see you today in
order to tell you I couldn't marry you.'
'No!'

'Yes,' she said steadily. 'I don't love you, and I was stupid to think I could marry a
man without loving him.'

'You're lying, Carolyn. It's because of Romaine, and now Margaret.'

Carolyn shook her head, but Derek ignored the gesture.

'You've every right to be hurt, sweetheart, but you can't punish me for ever
because of one kiss.' He advanced towards her. 'Darling, forgive me. I love you.'

'It's no use, Derek. We're through. I don't trust you any more.'

Colour mottled his face. "Don't blame me because of Margaret's behaviour. If

necessary, I'll get her put away in a home. I swear by everything I hold holy that
I'd no idea she was acting like this.'

'I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt there. But it doesn't make any
difference. I still don't want to marry you.'

'You'll be sorry if you don't take back the ring.'

Her eyes flashed. 'I don't find that remark particularly humorous.'

He gave her an odd look. 'It wasn't meant to be. I'm not joking, Carolyn, it's too
late for humour.'

She listened to him incredulously. Gone was the faint Irish accent she had come
to associate with him and his voice was sinister and threatening. Even his eyes
had lost their twinkle and stared at her with a strange, speculative expression.

'Well, Carolyn? This is your last chance.'

She flung up her head. 'I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth.'

'Don't try me too far.' He caught her hand in fingers of steel. 'Think it over
carefully. In the long rum it'll be cheaper to become my wife.'

She tried to pull away from him. 'I think you must be crazy too. In fact, I'm sure
you are. Get out of the house at once or I'll call Betty.'
He made no move and she crossed to the bell by the mantelpiece. 'I wouldn't if I
were you, Carolyn,' his voice had a rapier edge. 'At least, not if you value your
position here.' He bent his head to her. 'You don't think you fooled me, do you? I
know all about you and Piotr.'

She laughed. 'If you're trying to bring up the old story about my marrying Peter
for his money you'd better forget it. You can't make mischief between Mrs.
Nichols and myself. She likes me.'

'Does she now?' His voice was mocking. 'Indeed and all, that's a wonderful thing
to hear. And do you not think she'd be interested in the name of the orphanage
where Margaret was a matron? To refresh your memory, it's a barracks of a place
near Cleethorpes.'

'I don't know what on earth you're talking about.'

'Then I'll refresh your memory a little further. Four years ago a young couple
came to the orphanage with a very sad tale. The girl could never have any
children of her own, so they decided to adopt one. Do you want me to go on?'

'Yes,' she said quietly, 'I do.'

'Well, they asked Margaret to help them because there was a long waiting list
and they were in a hurry. They were going to Canada.'

'Canada?'

'Canada,' he reiterated. 'And finally, after a little bit of persuasion—the couple

were very persuasive, you know—Margaret helped them to adopt a little boy.'
His voice dropped to conversation level. 'Orphanages are funny places. If a kid's
a Quaker they like to send it to a Quaker family and if a kid's a Pole they like to
sent it to a Polish family. So you see, Margaret wasn't doing anything very bad
because this kid was a Pole and so were the couple. At least the man was—his
name was Peter Kolsky. Shall I still go on?'

'Yes,' she breathed. 'You'd better finish.'

'There isn't much more. The couple adopted the boy. The date of the adoption
was'—he looked down at a slip of paper in his hand—'January the third, exactly
four years ago, and the court of adoption was in Grimsby. I can give you the
exact details if you like, but I'm sure you already know them.' He smiled. 'So you
see, Piotr—whom you've brought forward as Rosemary's son—isn't Rosemary's
son at all. He's not entitled to a single penny.' He bent towards her. 'I'll give you
two choices, Carolyn. You can either marry me to keep me quiet, or you can pay
me.'

'And if I do neither?'

'Then I'll see you go to prison.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Carolyn stared at Derek's face. It receded, came nearer and then receded again.

'You've broken the eleventh commandment,' he said softly. 'Thou shalt not be
found out.'

Carolyn stared at him. 'I had no idea… you can't think——- '

'Now then, mavourrneen, the time for lying is over.'

'It's the truth.' Her voice grew stronger. 'Why should I pretend Piotr was
Rosemary's son?'

'It was the only way of getting the money.'

'Money be darned!' She reached for a cigarette, lit it and blew out a cloud of
smoke. 'As a point of interest, how did you discover it?'

'Margaret read about Piotr in the papers. She didn't recognise the boy, of course,
but she remembered the name.'

'It can't be true.' Carolyn jerked upright. 'I've got his birth certificate and it
doesn't say——-'

'It wouldn't,' he explained. 'Somerset House issues a short certificate unless you
ask them otherwise. If you want a detailed one you have to write to the Registrar,
giving the name of the court and the date when the adoption was ordered. I can
assure you I'm not lying, Carolyn. You can check all the facts for yourself if you
don't believe me.'

'I believe you,' she said slowly. 'What I can't believe is that you think I'll pay to
keep you quiet.'

'What do you intend to do? Tell Mrs. Nichols?'

'Right first time.'

His laugh was scornful. 'Indeed and all! You've got used to an easy life, my dear,
and it's packed off you'll be with a brat on your hands and no money.'

'I have a profession.'

'Come off it, Carolyn. If you won't marry me, how much will you give me? Will
it be a lump sum or something each year?'

'It's neither, Derek. It's the police if you don't leave the house immediately.'

Derek remained seated and Carolyn walked over to the telephone and picked it
up. 'Would you put me through to the police?' she asked the operator. There was
a murmur at the end of the line. 'It's Mrs. Kolsky here, Sergeant, from Royston
Manor. Could you come over right away? Thank you. Yes, it is urgent.'

She put down the telephone and Derek got to his feet, his face, even beneath the
beard, sickly pale.

'Carolyn,' he said hoarsely, 'don't be mad—think of the money. It's a fortune—a

fortune in your hands. And you're letting it go.'

Her lip curled. 'I'd rather do that than give any to you. Now, get out!'

Derek stared at her for a moment. Then he lowered himself into an easy chair
and spread his legs out in front of him. 'You have a good sense of the dramatic,
but that won't help you to bring up a kid of five.'

'No?' She fingered the edge of the table. 'Tell me something, Derek—would you
have looked at me if it hadn't been for the money?'

Immediately he was at her side, gazing adoringly down at her. 'Mavourneen, no

man could help falling in love with you. You're beautiful and kind and…' He saw
the mocking look in her eyes and shrugged. "No, my dear,' he said abruptly, 'I
wouldn't have fallen in love with you. It's a provocative bitch like Romaine that
can get under my skin.'

She relaxed. 'Thanks for not lying. It's about the only time you haven't' She
moved over to the fire. 'Incidentally, Derek, your sister drives a car very well.'

'She's capable at everything.' He stopped and bit his lip.

'I thought so,' Carolyn whispered. 'When she failed to kill him with the car, she
decided to…' But it was impossible to continue. She clenched her hands tightly
together. 'You'd better get out quickly. The police will be arriving any minute and
if you're still here I'll charge you both with attempted murder!'

In the distance the bell rang. Footsteps crossed the hall and the drawing-room
door opened. The sergeant stood there accompanied by a police constable.
Derek's face turned red and then white.

'I'll be getting along. I'm glad you found the brooch.' He moved to the door.
'Think over what I said.'

Carolyn did not trust herself to reply and with an effort she turned to the police
sergeant. 'It was a brooch. I lost it and got panicky. It turned up just before you
arrived. I'm awfully sorry.' She rang the bell. 'As you're here, perhaps you'll have
some coffee?'

When the sergeant and constable had left Carolyn paced the carpet nervously.
The news Derek had told her, as well as the final attempt on Piotr's life, made it
impossible for her to relax. If only Mrs. Nichols would hurry home so that she
could tell her the truth!

The thought of the impending interview filled her with dread and she hurried
into the kitchen where Piotr was playing with Cook.

After lunch he went upstairs for his rest and Carolyn perched on the edge of the
bed to read him a story. She was in the middle of it when Mrs. Nichols came in.

'I've just got back and heard what's happened. Was Betty telling the truth?'

'Only half of it. Wait till you hear the rest!'

Mrs. Nichols smiled at her grandson. 'How's my little boy today?'

'Fine, Grandma. Have you brought me a surprise?'

'Little boys who ask don't get surprises.'

'I didn't say I wanted one. I only said, did you buy me one?'
'You've an answer for everything! Well, yes, I did. I'll let you have it after your
rest.'

Carolyn folded the comic and laid it on the bed. 'When the large hand of the
clock points to six you can get up. But come down the stairs slowly.'

'Margaret said I can't manage on my own.'

'You most certainly can! You're a big boy, and don't you forget it.' She closed the
door and walked with Mrs. Nichols downstairs. 'Let's go into the sitting-room,
it's cosier.'

They sat at the small table and Betty brought in a pot of tea. Carolyn poured it
and handed a cup across the table.

'Lord, I don't know where to begin.'

'At the beginning. It's easier. What is it, Carolyn? I already know Margaret tried
to kill him. It can't be worse than that.'

'I'm afraid it can. Much worse.' Carolyn rolled her handkerchief round her
sweating palms. 'I don't know how you'll take it, but it's got to be said.'

Slowly she started to tell Mrs. Nichols everything that had happened that
morning. It was not too bad until she came to Derek's story, then her voice
faltered and the words were barely audible. Resolutely she swallowed some
scalding tea and continued, not omitting one single detail.

At the end she leaned back exhaustedly in her chair. 'And that's the lot, I'm
afraid. I wish like hell I could have spared you this.'

Mrs. Nichols's face was pale, but otherwise there was no indication of her
feelings. 'I suppose you're sure Derek isn't lying?'

'There'd be no point. He gave me the date when the adoption was made. I can go
to Somerset House and check it myself, but it will be a waste of time.'

'So Piotr isn't my grandson after all.' Mrs. Nichols rubbed her hand across her
face. 'It's incredible! Everything has been for nothing. All the recriminations, the
way I fought against your bringing him here, fought against loving him…' She
began to cry. 'I can't believe he isn't Rosemary's son. I can't!'

'In a way he is her son. She brought him up, and she loved him as if he were her
own. Try and think of it that way.' Carolyn rose and walked to the door.

'Where are you going?'

To put a call through to Mr. Arnold. There's no need for him to bother altering
the will; it's invalid now, anyhow. Afterwards I'll start to pack.' She smiled
faintly. 'You and Jeffrey get the money after all, so at least one good thing has
come out of it.'

'Money!' Mrs. Nichols said sharply. 'Do you think I care a jot about the money?
It's Piotr I'm thinking about.'

'Piotr?' Carolyn stammered.

'Of course. You surely don't believe that learning he's Rosemary's adopted son
has made any difference to my feeling for him? As you said yourself, she
brought him up, looked after him, loved him.' Mrs. Nichols' voice broke. 'I
couldn't turn him out now. I love him, Carolyn. I want him to live with me and
grow up here.'

Carolyn sat down shakily. 'I'm almost glad I've learned the truth about the whole
business. You really want Piotr here because you love him!'

'There must be no question of his going away,' Mrs. Nichols said firmly. 'Or you
either.'

'I can't take it all in,' Carolyn stammered. 'I haven't given a thought to my plans
—it's all happened so quickly I'm still in a daze.'

'When you come out of it you'll see there's no reason why everything can't go on
exactly as before.'

'Except that you and Jeffrey have the money. That'll make me feel a hell of a lot
better!'

'My share will eventually go to Piotr.' Mrs. Nichols smiled. 'And somehow I
don't think Jeffrey will get unduly excited.' Her smile became even broader.
'Listening to me talk, you'd think I was the most altruistic of women. Heaven
alone knows how that's happened. Do you think I could have changed so much
in six months?'

Carolyn's smile was bitter. 'If you love someone, it can change you in six weeks.'

'I wish I could help you.' Carolyn made no reply and Mrs.

Nichols sighed. 'Now remember, my dear, not a word of this to Piotr. Eventually
he'll have to know the truth about his birth, but—I don't suppose we could find
out who the real parents were?'

'Not a chance. Except that they were Polish.'

The door burst open and Piotr ran into the room. 'It was time for me to come
down.' He hoisted himself up on to Mrs. Nichols's knee. 'Will you paint with me
this afternoon, Grannie?'

'I think I might find the time. Have you got a painting book?'

'I don't need a book,' the child said scornfully. 'I want to paint real pictures, like
Uncle Derek.'

There was a startled silence and suddenly Carolyn and Mrs. Nichols burst out
laughing.

'What's the joke?' Piotr said. 'Have I been funny?'

'And how!' Carolyn replied.

During dinner that evening the talk revolved around the happenings of the day,
and only Ella appreciated the invidiousness of Carolyn's position and
sympathised with her desire to stand on her own two feet.

'I can't go on living here,' Carolyn said passionately, 'and accepting your charity.
It's out of the question.'

'We've been doing it for the last six months,' Jeffrey observed slyly, 'so I don't
see why you shouldn't.'
'Carolyn doesn't mean that,' Ella put in. 'I understand exactly how she feels.'

'Then the only solution,' Jeffrey said, 'is for you to find yourself a rich husband.
What about Colonel Burridge? He's a very young eighty with pots of cash!'

'I don't think his three daughters would approve!' Carolyn laughed. 'Although I
could probably offer my services as his nurse!'

'There's no reason for you to do anything of the sort,' Mrs. Nichols said. 'If you'd
take notice of an older woman instead of these young things here, you'll let
matters rest for the time being and discuss it in a few weeks.'

'That's a good idea,' said Ella. 'Alvin will be back by then and he may have some
suggestions. He'll be pretty furious when he hears about Romaine.'

'Where is he?' Mrs. Nichols asked.

'I don't know. He just said he was going away.'

'Talking about going away,' Jeffrey interpolated, 'how about having a drink to
celebrate the departure of the de Mancys? If they haven't left the district by
tomorrow I'm going to set the police on them regardless of what Carolyn says. I
never did like Derek.'

'Who could be as perceptive as you?' Ella said fondly.

Jeffrey handed round the drinks. 'To the future! Long may it be ahead of us!'

Because she had promised Mrs. Nichols to let matters rest for a few weeks,
Carolyn forced herself to live from day to day. But she was in an invidious
position. She did not want to leave Piotr, yet at the same time she could not be
dependent on anyone for her livelihood. Though she was Piotr's legal guardian
and could take him away, she knew it would be a selfish solution. Here he was
assured of a position, assured too of having a grandmother and an uncle who
cared about his well- being. To take him back to Canada would defeat her
original purpose in bringing him here. It was important for a child to have a
family.

Unbidden, the thought of Alvin came into her mind. His attitude towards her,
more than anyone else's, would determine her future plans. She could not live
here and go on seeing him—however infrequent his visits might be—if he still
persisted in treating her like a leper. She loved him too much to bear it. If only
she could analyse herself out of this emotional situation! Alvin had never shown
any fondness for her: only desire. And what did a few kisses mean to a man?
Perhaps he had believed that, like Romaine, she could be bought? Her cheeks
burned as she remembered the way she had deliberately thrown herself at him
the night of Jeffrey's musical. No doubt he thought her crazy and irresponsible,
but at least that was better than his realising she was in love with him. Whether
she decided to stay here or not, she would have to make every effort to forget
Alvin Tyssen.

The house was quiet during the week-end. Jeffrey and Ella went flat-hunting
again in London and Mrs. Nichols took Piotr to see a pantomime and was
spending the night with them in Alvin's flat. Carolyn had refused to go and on
Sunday morning she strolled along the shore road to the beach, suppressing a
shudder as she saw the large 'To Let' sign outside the cottage with the pink
shutters. The beach was deserted and she sat down on the fine white sand to
watch the breakers rolling in. A gust of wind blew the small grains of sand
against her face and she sprang up. The air had the deceptive warmth of spring,
but it was still too early to remain still for long, and she walked back briskly to
the house.

She took off her coat in the hall, pulled the scarf away from her head and went
into the drawing-room.

Alvin stood up.

'Good afternoon,' he said politely. 'I've been waiting for you.'

'I was out for a walk.' She came over to the fire and bent to warm her hands. 'Did
you have a nice trip?'

'Yes.'

She glanced at him and saw that his face was extremely pale while his hands,
long and thin, tapped restlessly on his cigarette case.

'I'm afraid Mrs. Nichols is in London. So are Jeffrey and Ella.'

'I came to see you.'

'That makes a change.' She essayed a smile at him but there was no change in his
expression.

'I'm afraid what I have to say is extremely unpleasant, Carolyn.' He took out a
cigarette and lit it 'I'll be as brief as I can. My trip,' he said stiffly, 'was a very
interesting one.'

'I'm delighted.' She held out her hand. 'Would you mind giving me a cigarette?
I've run out of them.'

He proffered his case and had to move nearer to light her cigarette for her. Close
to him she saw that he was breathing quickly and that a small blue vein was
pulsing in his temple.

'I don't know how you can be so calm,' he said savagely. 'My God, Carolyn!
Don't you know what I'm going to tell you?'

'Where have you been the past week?'

'In the north of England.'

She caught her breath. 'Cleethorpes.'

His eyes glittered. 'So you know the game is up?'

'Yes,' she said slowly. 'In fact I'm just beginning to realise something that should
have been obvious to me since—-'

'Since you came here.'

'I was going to say since last week.' She sat down on the small humpty in front
of the fire. 'What a fool I've been! Holy smoke, you gave me enough hints! All
the things you said—the innuendoes, the sly digs—it was all leading up to one
thing, wasn't it?'

'Yes.' He began to pace the carpet. 'Don't think I'm enjoying this, Carolyn. I'd
give anything not to say it'

'Then don't,' she pleaded.

'I must! No, don't look at me like that Nothing can dissuade me from my duty.
Not even your beauty or the way I feel about you. I—I…' He stopped speaking
and clenched his hands tightly together. With a great effort at calmness he
crossed over to the mantelpiece and with one elgantly shod foot resting on the
curb began to talk again.

'I suspected you from the first moment you arrived—even before that; when you
first wrote to Ate. Nichols.'

'Why?'

'Because Rosemary and I—this is embarrassing, but I must say it. When
Rosemary and I were engaged she became ill. She appeared to recover, but I was
uneasy about her and insisted she went to a specialist. She made light of the
whole thing and wouldn't even tell her mother. Rosemary was like that, carefree
and irresponsible, emotional and impulsive.' He straightened his shoulders.
'However, I went with her to the specialist and he told me later that she could
never have any children.'

'What did you do?'

'Nothing,' he said coldly. 'I would have married her just the same.'

'Did you love her so much?'

He paused. 'If you had asked me at the time I could have said yes, but now…
now I find that what I felt for her was nothing compared————————— '

He turned his head away and a strange excitememt stirred in Carolyn. 'Compared
with what, Alvin?'

'We're digressing. You can't stop me from what I'm going to say.' He turned
round, his eyes glittering behind his glasses. 'This deception has got to cease.
You came here to perpetrate one of the vilest crimes it was possible for anyone
to commit. You weren't only playing for money, Carolyn, somehow I could
forgive you that, but you were playing on the emotion of a grandmother. I've
seen the way Mrs. Nichols has fallen for your stepson, seen it and pitied her, yet
I was powerless to warn her until I had proof!'

'Alvin, no! Don't go on. You're wrong, wrong!'

'I'm right!' he shouted, 'but it doesn't make a pretty story, does it? How
innocently you came through that door last September with Piotr clinging to
your side. It was all I could do then not to expose you. But I had to bide my time
because I needed proof. I had to find out which orphanage Piotr had come from.
So I waited and watched you exert your gentle spell over everyone with whom
you came in contact—Jeffrey, Mrs. Nichols, my own sister. God! How could you
be so vile?'

As Carolyn listened, shock turned to horror. She tried to speak, but no words
came, and Alvin smiled unpleasantly.

'You're not as glib now as you were the night we danced at the Savoy.' He
laughed harshly. 'And you had the audacity to tell me you were no longer
engaged to de Mancy—your fellow crook! That's where you made your mistake,
the three of you. If you'd come down here alone, you might have been able to
fool me that you hadn't known about Piotr's adoption. But from the minute I
knew de Mancy and his sister were here, the whole jigsaw fell into place. When
I heard Margaret had been matron of an orphanage it suddenly became the most
important lead I'd had. From then on it was easy.' He stared down at her. 'Well,
aren't you going to say anything in your defence?'

'There doesn't seem much for me to say. How cynical and bitter you must be, to
have so little faith in humanity! Did you never give me the benefit of the doubt
or think I mightn't have been in league with Derek and Margaret?'

'Nothing you could say would ever make me believe you didn't know. It was a
lot of money, Carolyn, but it isn't for that I despise you. It's for trying to foist
Piotr on Mrs. Nichols.'

'She loves him.'

'That's what you scheemed for!'

Nausea welled up in her. She threw her half-smoked cigarette into the fire and
dug her hands in the pockets of her dress.

'What do you intend to do?' she asked.

'By rights I should hand you over to the police, but I can't do that.'
'Don't tell me you're faint-hearted?'

'Don't sit there and joke about it! I mean every word I've said. I might not call in
the police, but I'm certainly going to tell Jeffrey and Mrs. Nichols about you.' He
began to pace the carpet again. 'But before I do so, I wanted to tell you, to give
you a chance to get away. I know you haven't any money, so I've made out this
cheque for you.' He took out an envelope and laid it on the table. 'You'll find
enough here to pay for your expenses and keep you until you can find something
to do. My advice is to keep away from de Mancy and his sister.'

'It's kind of you to worry about my going straight!' Carolyn said stiffly. 'At least
it shows you have a little regard for me. But it won't be necessary to tell Mrs.
Nichols or Jeffrey. I've already done so.'

He wheeled round.'You've what?'

'Told Mrs. Nichols a week ago. A lot of things have happened since you've been
away, Alvin. You weren't the only one to discover things. When I
—————————— ——'

She had no chance to say any more, for he pulled her roughly to her feet and
shook her violently back and forth.

'Will I never stop learning how devilish you are? How cunning and diabolically
clever?' His hands pressed deeper. 'I can see it all now! You weren't as blind to
my riddles as you'd have me believe. That's why you tried to make me fall in
love with you. Why you flung yourself at me at the Savoy. And then there was
the night at the flat…' His voice went strangely quiet. 'In the flat I think you
would have succeeded if that phone call hadn't come…'

She fought against the memories his words invoked.

'Thank heavens it did!' she said, and wrenched away from him. 'If we'd gone any
further I'd have hated myself for ever!'

'You bitch!'

She laughed. 'Poor Alvin—foiled again! And you'll be even more pleased to
know Mrs. Nichols is going to make Piotr her heir. So I've beaten you after all,
haven't I? I'm safe, Alvin, and there's nothing you can do to harm me.'
'How did you manage it?' he grated.

'I told her the truth about Piotr. But she doesn't care—she loves him.' Carolyn's
laugh was wild. 'Love, Alvin. It's an emotion you'll never be able to understand,
and it's beaten you!'

He threw her so violently away from him that she stumbled and fell to the
ground. 'I'll never come to this house as long as you're here,' he said. 'Don't come
to Ella's wedding either, or I'll walk out.'

Her moment of triumph disappeared and all she was aware of was the look of
scorn on his face. The anger left and she said soberly, 'There's something else
you should know. It's about Derek and Margaret. I never—————'

'Don't tell me any more lies. You disgust me!' He strode to the door and swung
round to look at her. 'Rosemary gave me my first lesson about women, and
you've completed my education.'

'Let me explain,' she begged.

'I don't want to listen to you—you dare to talk about Romaine when you're just
as bad—worse even. She at least gives something for the money she gets.'

'You're wicked,' she sobbed. '1'm sorry for you, sorry, do you hear? You won't be
able to live your life without love.'

'Love!' he grated. 'Love is something I can buy.'

The door closed quietly and with finality behind him and Carolyn buried her
head in her hands and gave herself up to tears.

That night Mrs. Nichols and Piotr returned home. At dinner Carolyn's face was
swollen from crying, and Mrs. Nichols looked at her in alarm.'

'Whatever's the matter? Are you ill?'

'Let's have dinner first,' Carolyn said with an effort. 'If I start talking about it now
I'll not eat a thing. I haven't eaten all day as it is.'

With an effort Mrs. Nichols subsided, and after a moment began to relate Piotr's
excitement at the pantomime.

'I've never known a child to be so good. This morning he stayed quietly in bed
until I woke up. We could really have stayed in town today, but I don't want him
to miss school.'

'How are Jeffrey and Ella?'

'Fine. I believe Alvin's home.'

'He is, I saw him today.'

'What a pity I missed him. How was he?'

'In the best of health.' Carolyn pushed away her plate and Mrs. Nichols, seeing
the look on her face, stood up.

'Let's go into the drawing-room and you can tell me what's wrong.'

Seated in front of the brightly burning log fire Carolyn found it difficult to begin,
but finally managed to repeat the gist of her conversation she had had with Alvin
earlier that day. Mrs. Nichols listened with amazement.

'You mean he knew all along Piotr wasn't Rosemary's son?'

'Yes.'

'Then why didn't he tell me or Jeffrey?'

'He wanted proof. He believes I was in cahoots with Margaret and Derek. I tried
to convince him I wasn't, but it was like talking to a brick wall.'

'He must be mad,' Mrs. Nichols said decidedly. 'Why, if you were in league with
Derek and Margaret, you wouldn't have told us about it. You'd have paid to keep
Derek quiet!'

'He thinks that once I realised the game was up I decided to throw myself on
your mercy in the hope that you'd grown so fond of Piotr you wouldn't want to
throw us out.' Carolyn pressed her hands to her temples. 'And from his point of
view, his reasoning's valid.'
'I'll have a word with Alvin Tyssen,' Mrs. Nichols said firmly. 'Strikes me he
hasn't behaved normally since Rosemary ran off with Peter. That young man is
going to have a piece of my mind—position or no position.'

'He'll just think you've been fooled by me,' Carolyn said bitterly. 'Why should he
listen to you?'

'Because he's not in love with me. It's an emotion that makes fools of all of us.
I'm sure Alvin will see things differently once I've had a chance to explain to
him.'

'I don't want you to. Lack of faith can't be restored as easily as that.'

'I'll restore it for him,' Mrs. Nichols said sharply.

'I wasn't thinking of him. It's my faith you won't restore. Mine!' Carolyn buried
her head in her hands. 'I can't forgive him for believing I was capable of such
behaviour. Every time I think of him I'll remember the things he accused me of.'

'You'll forget.'

'Never. And certainly not as long as I remain here. That's why I must go away.'

'You can't do that!'

She rolled her damp handkerchief between her palms. 'I love Alvin,' she
explained. 'I only got engaged to Derek because of Alvin's association with
Romaine.'

'My dear!' Mrs. Nichols came over and drew Carolyn close. 'I never realised… I
must say I couldn't understand what you saw in Derek, but now it all makes
sense.'

'I must leave here,' Carolyn said. 'I won't make anything of my life while I'm so
close to Alvin.'

'That's nonsense.'

'It isn't. Besides, it'll spoil things for everyone if Alvin won't come here.'
'He'll come after I've finished talking to him,' Mrs. Nichols said grimly. 'He's
acted like a stupid child.'

'It's no use. I've made up my mind to go.'

Mrs. Nichols' face crumpled and she began to cry, slow difficult tears. "You're
not going to take Piotr away. I can't bear it. You said yourself that a home and
family are important. Stay here with him.'

'I can't.' There was a note of finality in Carolyn's voice that stopped Mrs. Nichols
from going any further. With an effort the woman composed herself,
straightening her back and blinking away her tears.

'If you really want to go, you'll at least let me take care of you and Piotr
financially.'

Carolyn was incredulous. 'I wouldn't take money from you— and I certainly
don't intend to take Piotr away from here. He loves you as much as he loves me.
I'm the only one who's going.'

'Oh, my dear!' No longer could the woman hold back her tears, and she started to
cry again. Carolyn listened, almost too overwhelmed to feel any emotion
whatever. It was as though grief had numbed all her feelings.

At last Mrs. Nichols became more composed, and wiping her eyes, leaned back
in her chair. 'Are you convinced you're doing the wise thing in going away? Wait
until I've talked to Alvin.'

'I don't want you to talk to him. Let him go on thinking the worst about me.'

'But that's ridiculous!'

'Perhaps it is. But it boils down to a question of faith. He hasn't got any as far as
I'm concerned. I don't want him to be talked into it by you.'

'You'll regret it one day. Pride makes a poor bedfellow.'

'I'll take my chance on that.'

Mrs. Nichols sighed. 'When do you plan to go?'

'Tomorrow.'

'So soon?'

'It's the best way. It'll save me explaining to Jeffrey and Ella. Make some excuse
for me. Say I've been called back to Canada or that I've found a long-lost
mother!'

'Poor Carolyn. You'll come back to see Piotr, of course?'

'One day, when I can bear it. If you're going to make a break it's got to be clean.'
She bent forward and kissed Mrs. Nichols. 'I've loved knowing you. Give my
love to Ella and Jeffrey.'

'Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?'

'Nothing.'

Carolyn left Royston Manor the following morning. She kissed Piotr and saw
him depart for school with Betty, then hurried upstairs to finish her packing and
say a last good-bye to Airs. Nichols.

'You still feel the same about it this morning?' the older woman asked.

Carolyn smiled faintly. 'Exactly the same.'

'At least let me give you some money.'

'Not a cent. Heck, I'm a trained nurse. I can easily get a job.'

But it was not so easy. Carolyn had not brought any references with her when
she left Canada and the two London hospitals to which she applied for a job
were reluctant to take her until they received testimonials from Toronto.
Meanwhile her resources were dwindling and she had almost given up hope
when at the end of a fortnight the long-awaited letter from Canada arrived,
together with her report cards and references. In the short while that she had
been in London, she had decided it would be safer to go to a town where she
would not be afraid of meeting anyone who knew her. Where should it be? And
what place should she work in—an orphanage or a hospital? This time she
decided to let her head rule her heart and after searching through copies of the
Nursing Mirror she wrote applications to three hospitals in the north of England.

Exactly a month after she had left Royston Manor, Carolyn enrolled as a nurse in
one of Liverpool's largest hospitals. The strict routine and punctilious
supervision given to all ranks was entirely different from anything she had been
accustomed to in

Canada, as were the ugly uniforms, the heavy black shoes and stockings and
ungainly caps. But it was a job that required all her energies; during the days she
was too busy to think and at nights too exhausted.

Remembering how easily she had traced Mrs. Nichols through the postmark, she
was careful not to send any letter from Liverpool and on her first free day took a
train to Manchester where she posted her letters to the family and a parcel to
Piotr. How she missed the little boy, missed too the leisurely life of Royston
Manor! It was strange how easily one could become accustomed to doing
nothing, much more easily than one could become accustomed to hard work.

At the beginning of March, Carolyn was sent to the maternity ward. Looking
after babies again gave her a happiness she had not experienced since leaving
Piotr and she wondered how he was getting on at school and whether he missed
her. She longed for news of him and decided that on her next day off, she would
go to Manchester and telephone Terring. What a fool she was not to have
thought of that before! She sighed, jerked out of her reverie by someone calling.

'Nurse! Ate. Hughes is waiting for her baby.'

'Sorry, Sister.'

Carolyn closed the linen cupboard and hurried down the corridor to the nursery.
Loud squawks were coming from inside and half a dozen screaming bundles
were making themselves heard. She walked over to a cot at the end, lifted up a
baby and holding it firmly against her, with one hand around the warm, soft
scalp, took it into the ward and placed it in its mother's arms.

'What a little love it is,' the woman exclaimed. 'Have you been crying for your
mummy?'

'She's been as quiet as a mouse,' Carolyn lied. 'Not a peep out of her!'
Ate. Hughes moved in the bed. 'Could you clear away the newspapers, Nurse? I
can't bear the mess.'

Carolyn collected the magazines and newspapers and placed them in a pile on
the locker. A small caption on the front page of the daily newspaper caught her
eye and she bent to look at it. 'New Musical by Jeffrey Nichols', she read.
'Another smash hit last night from the author of 'Waiting for Ella'.

'Anyone you know?' Ate. Hughes asked. 'You've gone scarlet.'

'It's from bending. I must go and bring in the rest of the batch.'

She hurried out of the room. It was wonderful about Jeffrey.

How happy he and Ella must be! Had they remembered her when they sat in the
box last night? She pushed open the nursery door and walked in. No doubt Alvin
had been there too, sitting next to Romaine and holding her hand. Strange that
she could think of him with another woman and not feel bitter, not feel anything
at all, except when she remembered how he looked without his glasses.

'Sister wants you, Nurse,' another nurse said.

Carolyn turned. 'What's wrong?'

'Don't know, but she doesn't sound crotchety.'

'All right. Then I'll take this baby along first.'

She picked up a bundle in a blue blanket and walked along the corridor to the
ward, crooning to the child.

Sister came out of her room. 'Nurse! I wanted to see you. Didn't you get my
message?'

'I was taking the baby along—- '

'Well, don't wait in the draughty corridor, then. Do it and come back here.'

'Yes, Sister. I——— ' The rest of Carolyn's sentence died as a man came out
from Sister's office. The light was behind him, but immediately she recognised
the slight figure, the arrogant blond head and silver-rimmed glasses.

'Alvin——- '

'Do take the baby in, Nurse. You can come back immediately.'

Hardly aware of what she was doing, Carolyn left the child with its mother, saw
that the feeding was begun correctly and then reported to Sister's office.

Alvin stood staring out of the window and Carolyn did not look at him.

'Mr. Tyssen was sent up in error,' Sister began. 'When he asked for the maternity
ward the receptionist thought he was an expectant father.'

In spite of herself Carolyn could not hold back a smile and Sister's voice became
even sharper. 'I have explained that I do not allow my nurses to have visitors
when they are on duty, but in the circumstances I will give you'—she glanced at
her watch—'ten minutes. You can talk to Mr. Tyssen in the visiting- room. It's
empty as it is not visiting day.'

'Thank you, Sister.'

Carolyn turned to Alvin and spoke to a point beyond his shoulder. 'Would you
follow me?'

She led the way down a couple of steps and into a small, cheerless room that
looked out on to a courtyard. She moved over to the window and stood there.

'I wouldn't have recognised you in that get-up,' he said quietly. 'You look
different.' He glanced down at her starched pink and white uniform and
involuntarily she put her hand to her cap. 'It hasn't fallen off,' he said with a
smile. 'Don't worry.'

She marvelled that he was able to make trivial conversation and clasped her
hands behind her back to hide their trembling. She had not yet recovered from
the shock of seeing him and wished desperately for the ten minutes to be over.

'How did you manage to find me?'

'With very great difficulty! You've no idea of the number of women who answer
to the description of five foot six, blonde hair and green eyes.'

'I'm glad I'm not unique.'

'You are, inasmuch as you are both foolhardy and obstinate.'

Anger began to rise in her. 'How dare you come here and call me names! If that's
all you have to say you'd better go.'

'When I've travelled nearly three hundred miles to see you? Come, come,
Carolyn, you know me better than that. And at last,' he said, moving towards her,
'I'm beginning to get a clear picture of you.'

'Has Mrs. Nichols…' she stopped, and his mouth curved.

'Mrs. Nichols has not broken her word, if that's what you were going to say. But
last night was the opening of Jeffrey's show.'

'I read about it. I'm glad it was a success.'

'And I didn't feel in the mood for holding another party,' he continued as if she
had not spoken. 'It brought back too many memories. So I went back to the flat
and Jeffrey followed to see if I was all right. We had a quiet little chat for the
first time since you went away.' He banged his hand hard on the rickety waiting-
room table. 'To think that none of this need have happened if Jeffrey had spoken
to me earlier. But no! He was too busy writing his damn musical and having a
honeymoon to tell me…' He stopped and with an effort continued: 'To tell me
that almost from the moment you arrived at the house, you tried to change the
will and get die money made over to the family.'

Carolyn let out her breath. 'I'd forgotten all about that. I discussed it with Mr.
Arnold before I became engaged to Derek. From the moment I knew Mrs.
Nichols was fond of Piotr it was in my mind. I thought that if she and Jeffrey
were the trustees instead of me, it would cut out any resentment they had for the
child.'

'And you were willing to give up being the trustee yourself in order to do that?'

'Naturally.'
'Why didn't you tell me this?'

'Because I don't give a damn about your opinion of me!'

'I can't blame you for being bitter. There's nothing you can say to me that I
haven't already said to myself. I want to make it up to you, Carolyn.'

'Another cheque for a thousand pounds to help me?'

He winced. 'I deserved that.'

'You deserve a lot more—and you'll get it too if you stick to that…' Annoyed
with herself for showing jealousy she turned her head away.

'To Romaine?' There was a note of humour in his voice. 'I'm not getting her,
incidentally.'

'Poor Alvin! Let down on all sides.'

'I was the one who did the letting down,' he explained, his voice very close to
her. 'From the night I held you in my arms in the flat I never made love to
Romaine or any other woman.'

She began to tremble. 'I'm not interested.'

'Maybe not. But I wanted you to know.' He paused. 'What can I offer as an
excuse? I misjudged you and I apologise. But you can't blame me completely. I
had some justification for thinking you guilty and the fact that I was falling in
love with you made me even more afraid. I had to force myself to go on with the
investigation because I knew that if we were ever to have any future together it
would have be based on truth. My intention was to find out all the facts, confront
you with it and go on from there.'

'Was that why you told me to clear out?'

'I lost my temper.'

There was a silence and she stared resolutely through the window. 'I can't believe
your story, Alvin. It was kind of you to come and apologise and I appreciate it.
Now you can go.'
'I want to marry you, Carolyn.' He spoke so quietly that she could barely hear
him. 'Carolyn, I love you.' His voice was strained and fluctuating in sound. 'I
love you. I've never apologised to anyone before and it doesn't come easy, but I
love you. I'm not much to look at and I'm a crock, too, but whatever there is of
me and for whatever it's worth, it's yours.'

'I'm not interested in the Tyssen chemical works, so you needn't bother trying to
sell yourself.'

He caught his breath and his hand fell to his side. 'You're very hard, Carolyn. I
wish I…' He broke off and there was a faint sound behind her. She turned
surreptitiously and saw that he had crumpled on to a chair, his face glistening
with sweat, his hands gripping tightly to the edge of the table.

'Alvin, what is it?'

'My head. It'll pass in a minute.' He shuddered and blindly fumbled at his
glasses. 'It started this morning.'

'You had no business travelling.'

'I wanted to see you.' He smiled faintly. 'I took a pill before I came here. It
should begin to work soon.'

She bent forward and loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt. There was
the faint pink mark of a collar stud on his throat, and at sight of it her heart
began to beat more quickly.

'What a fool you are, Alvin. You know very well you should lie down when you
get an attack.'

'I tell you I had to see you. I only discovered yesterday where you were.'

Suddenly a thought struck her. 'How long have you been trying to locate me?'

'Ever since you left Royston.' He kept his eyes closed, but his lips moved in a
slight smile. 'It was like a detective story, except that this won't have a happy
ending.'

'Alvin, I still don't understand. If you only found out the truth about me last
night, why have you been looking for me all his time?'

'Because from the minute you ran away, my one thought has been to find you
again.'

'Even though you believed I was a…'

She hesitated and he lifted his head gingerly. 'A gold-digger? Yes, my dear, even
though I believed that. I wanted you so much that I didn't care what you'd done
or what you'd been so long as you agreed to marry me and let me take care of
you. Believe it or not, I was going to try and reform you! Then yesterday
morning the detective agency told me where you were. I'd have come here right
away had it not been for Jeffrey's show. The rest of the story you know. I went
back to my flat and Jeffrey came to see me.'

'So it wasn't until the very end that you learned the truth about me?'

'Yes.' His voice was a fine thread of sound. 'I don't blame you for being bitter. If I
hadn't been so blinded by love I'd have realised how wonderful you were. Too
wonderful for me.'

'Don't say that, Alvin.' Tears poured down her cheeks and she knelt at his side. 'If
I thought you hadn't had faith in me I could never have married you. But
knowing you were willing to make me your wife, to protect me and look after
me, even when you thought I was…' She bit her lip and hid her face against his
jacket. She could feel the heavy thudding of his heart and his hand light and
warm, on her hair. 'I shouldn't be upsetting you like this,' she sobbed. 'It'll make
your headache worse.'

'On the contrary, I feel much better, or else the pill is working!' His voice was
stronger. 'Look at me, Carolyn.'

'No, my face is all red.'

He ignored her protests and with unexpected fierceness stood up and pulled her
to her feet. His arms held her close and she felt the tremble of his body and his
breathing, quick and uneven.

'There's so much we've got to say,' she whispered.

'There'll be time enough for that. Right now, there's only one thing I want to do.'

Without any gentleness his mouth found hers. No longer was he pleading for her
understanding; he was a lover demanding a passionate response. It was a deep
kiss and seemed to draw the very heart out of her. She struggled for breath, but
he would not lift his mouth, and after a moment she twined her arms around his
neck and with all her strength pressed her body against his.

'Carolyn.' He drew back, his face white, his eyes glittering. 'Darling, I'd better go
while I still have the strength!'

'Say it again,' she whispered. 'The bit where you called me darling. You never
have before.'

'I've lots more names,' he said tenderly. 'Darling, dearest, heart of my heart.' He
looked into her face. 'Will you still find me strange when I wear my glasses? I'd
do without them if I could, but——- '

'No, you won't. I like you in glasses now. Besides, it's nice to know I'll be the
only one who'll be able to get behind the mask!'

There was a hurried tattoo on the door and a student nurse put her head round it.

'Sister will be having kittens if you don't get back. Feeding's over and you're to
collect the babies.'

The door closed again and Alvin kissed Carolyn's tilted nose. 'Run along,
dearest. This time next year I hope a nurse will be collecting ours!'