Dawn Song (16 page)

'Jerome is not here yet?'

Meg muttered something indistinguishable.

'Well, it doesn't matter. I am glad to have this chance to see you alone.' Tante

opened a drawer in the small table beside her and extracted a shabby velvet

box. 'I wish to give you this.'

Meg hesitated, uncomfortably. She began, 'There's really no need ...'

'I think there is,' Tante said firmly. 'I've neglected you for far too long.' She

pressed the box into Meg's hand. 'Perhaps this will atone for all the years of

silence-'

'Oh, no.' Meg was aghast. 'I mean—I didn't come here for this, really...'

'You don't need to tell me that,' Tante said gently. 'Nevertheless, I wish you

to have this little token, my dear. Don't deny me this pleasure.'

Swallowing, Meg pressed the catch and opened the box, with acute

misgiving. Against the background of yellowing satin, the antique brooch's

delicate tracery of amethysts and pearls glowed discreetly.

Meg stared at it, lost for words.

'I hope you like it,' Tante said, at last. 'It has no great intrinsic value, perhaps,

but it once meant—so much to me. Now it's yours.'

No need, of course, to ask who had given it to her. Meg said, her voice

shaking, 'It's exquisite— the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. But—

Tante—I can't take it. You—you don't understand...'

'I think perhaps that I do,' Tante said, her voice gentle. 'You feel Jerome will

disapprove.'

'I'm sure he will. He—he doesn't trust me, you see...'

'But that was before he met you.' Tante patted her hand. 'Don't blame him for

that,
mon enfant.
He is—over-protective at times, but that isn't such a bad

fault, believe me, for a woman to find in a man. And his initial judgement of

you was too hasty—based on hearsay. I'm sure he's realised that.'

Meg shook her head. 'On the contrary,' she said quietly. 'I think this would

simply confirm all Jerome's worst suspicions.'

'And what do I suspect?' Jerome was standing in the doorway, watching

them.'I have made our dear Margot a small gift,' Tante said. 'But she has

scruples about accepting it.'

'How admirably moral,' he drawled.

'So you must tell her that she's being absurd,' Tante ordained sternly.

'With pleasure.' He walked over to Meg, and held out his hand for the box.

'May I see?'

Reluctantly, she surrendered the brooch for his inspection.

'But it's charming,' he said, after a pause. His eyes met hers sardonically,

leaving her in no doubt that he'd guessed the brooch's provenance. 'And

ideally suited to what you are wearing. Permit me.'

He took the brooch from the box, and pinned 11 into the silk at Meg's throat,

his hand brushing her breast. It was the most fleeting touch, but every nerve

of her body reacted in wanton eagerness. She thought rawly, Damn him.

Jerome took a step back. 'The perfect setting,' he said softly.

Dinner seemed endless. As they were going into the dining-room, Jerome

was called away by Philippine to the telephone, re-joining them as the soup

was being served. Meg, stealing a covert glance at him under her lashes,

across the table, discovered a grim set to his mouth and jaw. Whatever

message he'd received clearly hadn't pleased him. Perhaps the lady at the

mas
had rung to say she was tired of waiting.

She transferred her attention determinedly to Tante, and began to chat

brightly about all she'd seen and done in Albi that morning. From time to

time, she was aware of Jerome's cynical gaze resting on her, flickering from

her swollen mouth to the gleam of the brooch at her throat, but he made no

attempt to intervene in her recital, or introduce an alternative topic of

conversation.

'I meant to ask you,' Tante said, when Meg at last paused for breath, 'did you

manage to contact your mother?'

'Yes.' Meg sipped some wine. 'I had a—a brief word with her.'

'I hope she is well.' Tante's words were courteous rather than warm. 'She

must be missing you.'

Meg gave a constrained smile. 'She's rather too occupied for that at the

moment, I think.' She saw Jerome's eyes narrow suddenly, as he leaned back

in his chair, but he made no comment.

Meg had no appetite, and did little but push the food round her plate, making

Philippine cluck disapprovingly at her when she cleared away.

When they all adjourned to
the salon,
Tante suggested that Meg and Jerome

might like to play backgammon, but Meg declined hurriedly, saying, not

altogether mendaciously, that she had a headache.

And I must also excuse myself.' Jerome took Madame de Brissot's hand and

kissed it. 'Something unexpected has cropped up—quite unavoidable, I'm

afraid.'

Meg felt her heart skip a beat. So he intended to obey the summons, she

thought. Well, what else had she really expected? And it was better this way,

she knew, so why did she feel as if she was dying inside?

'You work altogether too hard,'
madame
told him severely. 'Will you be back

later?'

'I cannot be sure,' he said, after a pause. 'At any rate, I'll see you in the

morning. Sleep well.'

He turned a bleak smile on Meg. 'I hope your headache soon improves,' he

told her expressionlessly, and left.

Tante was all concern, offering pain-killers, and Meg was forced to take one

to avert suspicion, although it was unlikely to alleviate the real ache in her

heart. But she refused to go to bed. The last thing in the world she needed

after all was to be on her own to think.

'Such a pity Jerome has been called away,' Tante remarked, adjusting the

cushion behind her back. 'It would have rounded your day off nicely if he'd

been able to spend the evening.' Her tone was guileless, but Meg wasn't

deceived.

She said, 'I came here to be your companion, Tante, not his.'

'But you do begin to like him, don't you, my dear?'

That was a tepid description of the torrent of feeling that had swept her

away, Meg thought wrily. She said shortly, 'I haven't really thought about it.

Has Philippine brought the paper in?'

'Oh, "I don't think I want any news read to me tonight. All wars and death

and destruction—so depressing.' Tante pulled a face. 'I'd rather talk about

happy things.'

'I'll talk about anything you like,' Meg said gently. 'Except—except Jerome.

I—I know how fond you are of each other, and how much you rely on him,

but you can't expect me to share in your relationship.'

'Of course not. That would be ridiculous,' Tante said strongly. 'But you can't

pretend, either,
ma chere,
that you're not attracted to him, or he to you.' She

chuckled. 'When one's sight is reduced, other senses seem to grow stronger,

and I've felt this current of emotion that flows between you.'

'He's very good-looking,' Meg said tonelessly. 'Naturally, I'm aware of

that...'

'No, no,' Tante said testily. 'I'm talking of something more important and far

deeper than just- awareness.'

'I think you're exaggerating, Meg said desperately. 'Monsieur Jerome and I

have only just met.'

'But what a meeting.' Tante s deep chuckle escaped again. 'And how long do

you think it takes, foolish child, to
know
...?' She threw back her head.

'Sometimes a look—a word—is all that is necessary—when it's the man who

is meant for you above all others.' There was a catch in her voice.

Meg tried to smile. 'It's a very romantic idea, but reality's rather different.'

And what if the man you'd set your heart on didn't share your

feelings—or—even worse- wanted you for all the wrong reasons? she asked

silently.

'You must not doubt or question love,
ma chere.'
Tante sounded almost

stern. 'You should seize it with joy when it's offered, or you could spend

your life with nothing but regrets.'

That's something I'm already coming to terms with, Meg thought, biting her

lip. Aloud, she said,'There's no point in even discussing this. You seem to

forget I'm only here for a few weeks...'

'On this occasion, perhaps.' Tante patted her hand. 'But now that I've found

you again, child, I don't want to lose you. I hope to see far more of you in the

future.'

Meg felt choked by guilt. I should never have got into this, she thought

wretchedly. Never. A lifetime won't be long enough for all my regrets.

She put up her hand and touched the brooch. The stones felt cold, alien

against her fingers. She supposed by right the ornament now belonged to

Margot. That was Tante's intention, anyway. But it would fall into her

rapacious stepsister's hands over Meg's dead body, although she herself

couldn't keep it either. It's just on loan for the duration of my visit, she told

herself bleakly. Rather like everything else.

Jerome did not come back, and just after ten o'clock Tante announced her

intention of going to bed. Meg read to her for a while from
The Mill on the

Floss
then went along to her own room. She detached the brooch with care,

then hid the box at the back of a drawer in the dressing-table. It must have

cost Tante a lot to part with something so special, .she thought sadly. She

hadn't bargained for being taken to the older woman's heart quite so fast. Nor

had she foreseen that Tante regarded this visit as the beginning of a whole

new relationship with her goddaughter.

But that was Margot's problem, not hers, she told herself woodenly, feeling

like Judas.

And only one of many, it seemed. Because, now the chips were down, it was

apparent that Steven Curtess was opting to try and save his marriage at all

costs. Which surely meant that Margot would be out of a job, and out of his

life too.

Meg had never had the slightest sympathy with Margot's ruthless pursuit of

Curtess, but it occurred to her now, with her newly awakened sensitivity,

that if her stepsister was really in love with him, then the loss would destroy

her—tear her apart.

Maybe she didn't want to love him, she thought. Perhaps, like me, she

couldn't help herself. And she'll suffer for it, as I will, till the end of time.

Sleep proved totally elusive. She lay in the darkness, her mind going in

weary circles, but producing no solutions to any of the quandaries which

bedevilled her. Finally, she pushed back the covers with determination. So,

it was two a.m. She wasn't going to lie here, awake and suffering. She'd use

her insomnia for a purpose.

She put on her robe, slid her feet into slippers, retrieved her pocket torch

from her travel bag, and opened her bedroom door. Darkness and silence

greeted her. Treading carefully, following the thin beam of the torch, she

made her way downstairs to the library. She'd face the beast and conquer it,

she told herself. It might take her some time to convince Jerome that she

wasn't mercenary, but at least she could prove she was competent.

She pushed open the door, and stopped dead, halted in her tracks at the sight

of Jerome. The desk lamp was lit, and he was sitting at the table, writing

busily. He stared at her as if she were a ghost, then bundled his papers

together, pushing them into a folder.

'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

She wasn't going to tell him she'd come down for some secret typing

practice. He'd think she'd gone mad.

She temporised. 'I thought I heard a noise.'

'I hope now that your mind is at rest.' Jerome's smile didn't reach his eyes.

'Yes.' She paused. 'I thought you weren't coming back tonight.' The

unknown girl must care for him a great deal to be treated in such a cavalier

fashion, she thought bleakly.

He shrugged. 'Some of the estimates for the building work were waiting for

me at the
mas.
I needed to deal with them. Madame Marguerite is impatient

for the work to begin.'

'Yes, of course.' Nervously, Meg tightened the sash of her robe. Jerome

observed the gesture with a faint twist of his mouth. He picked up his pen.

'Don't let me detain you,' he said shortly. 'Or is there something else?'

'No—at least...' Meg hesitated.

'Well, go on.'

She said in a little rush, 'It's the brooch. I want— I need to explain to you

about it.'

Jerome's brows lifted. 'What explanation is necessary?
Madame
wished to

make you a gift. It's of no concern to anyone else.'

'I don't think that's true.' Meg touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips.

'It's an old and lovely piece of jewellery—not a box of chocolates. I tried to

tell her I couldn't accept such a thing, but she wouldn't listen.'

His smile was wintry. 'She has become used to her own way in most things.

You won't change her in the short time you're here.'

'That's exactly what I'm getting at,' she said. 'I am only here for a little while,