Deceptions (36 page)

'I thought you were taking me home,' she said, feeling foolish as the doorman waited, his hand outstretched to help her.

Striding to her side of the car, Antonio reached past the doorman to grasp her arm and pull her out. 'You saw where I was driving and you did not stop me. What is this game you are playing?'

'Not a game,' she gasped, infuriated at the grip of his hand, at being pulled from the car, at her own stupidity. 'I did not think I had to monitoryour driving,' she said icily. 'Thatyou would dare assume I would come here, without asking me—'

She stopped, conscious of the open interest on the doorman's ^ce. Beyond him. across the street, was a small

park. 'Shall we walk for a few minutes?' Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the doorman. 'Please don't put the caraway.'

*Caramba!* Antonio muttered, and moved off, still gripping her arm. 'Leave the car here,' he flung over his shoulder to the doorman.

In the park, Stephanie pulled her arm away. 'Never have you done such a thing,' Antonio fumed. 'I do not expect such behavior from you. The woman who is to be my wife does not behave in this fashion. We had an arrangement—*

'Our only arrangement was that we would not see each other for a month. You returned before that time and I agreed to see you. I agreed to nothing else.'

'You wore my jewels, you smiled, you were warm, soft, delicious. You were pleased with me and with our evening, and you behaved in ways that would please me. You will kindly remember that you said tonight I could soon get you out of this mess you have made for yourself in your little shop—'

'Little shop!' she blazed. She stopped walking. 'The mess I have made? You are unforgivably insulting.'

Astonished, Stephanie listened to herself. She ought to be careful; what if Sabrina changed her mind and didn't write the letter - decided to think about Antonio some more -perhaps even decided to many him while Stephanie was driving him away? But anger over-rode her caution. Stephanie and Sabrina were angry and insulted. Sabrina would not many him, and Stephanie would tell him why.

'You treat me like a child. I will not tolerate that. I do what I want to do. No one forces me into anything.'

'My Sabrina, I do not force you, I want only to care few you—'

'In your way, as you decide.'

'What else? You foolish girl, are you doing so well by yourself? You would not be in trouble in your little - in this shop of yours if you had allowed me to manage yoiu* affairs. You are in danger of losing everything. I offer you security, position, wealth. And you fling at me some foolish idea of independence.'

'Antonio, please take me home.'

*What does that mean?*

'That my foolish idea of independence is very important to me and I will not give it up.'

Tou will not many me?'

•No.'

'You will. I would not have waited all these months if I was not sure of that.'

'Will you take me home or must I take a taxi?'

'I will callyou'(omorrow.'

'I will not be home.'

'You will be home. By then you will be calm and reasonable.'

Thank goodness for Mrs Thirkell, she thought as they drove to Cadogan Square; someone to answer the telephone. This weekend I'll be away, and by next week Sabrina's letter will end it for good.

But, feeling guilty about what she had done, she called Sabrina that night. The connection was bad and they did not talk long; Sabrina seemed remote and uninterested. 'Don't worry about Antonio,' she said. Still, the next day, when Stephanie left for Olivia Chasson's weekend house party, she felt adrift, without guidelines or anyone to advise her.

Olivia, whom she was meeting for the first time, was a good antidote, shrewd and sharp-tongued. 'No Antonio?' she asked when Stephanie arrived alone.

'Not at the moment.'

Olivia nodded sagely. 'I thought that would end. An overbearing man. I have observed that self-made men, not content with making themselves, are grandly determined to make everyone else as well to their own specifications. Men who are bom to wealth seldom have that problem.'

'Why is that?' Stephanie asked, laughing.

'Because growing up with wealth leaves them so bored they're satisfied only with large projects, such as saving the world. Look at the Rockefellers, for example. Oh, hell, I must greet the Raddisons; why do I invite them when I detest Rose?'

'Perhaps a thorny rose makes your other flowers seem sweeter.'

Olivia threw back her head and laughed. The guests in the

large salon turned and smiled with her. 'You're a gem, Sabrina. How dull life would be without you. I would like you on my right at dinner.'

*Of course,' Stephanie said carelessly, and then saw, in Olivia's face, how important that was. 'I'd be honored,' she added quickly.

She watched Olivia cross the room and smiled as Rose Raddison waved gleefully in her direction. A waiter gave her a glass of champagne. Lights from chandeliers danced in the sparkling wine, scattering like jewels as Stephanie moved about, accepted and admired by everyone. Not one of the polished guests in that room challenged her right to be part of their world, where no one thought about the mortgage or grocery bills or whether the garbage had been taken out for the night. An enchanted place, she thought, where I belong.

The Chasson country house in Kent had large, square rooms and tall windows overlooking gardens, a croquet lawn and a small lake. The salon where Lord and Lady Chasson entertained before dinner was known for its painted ceiling and heavy chandeliers. The year before, Sabrina had redecorated it, upholstering the chairs in creamy suede and the couches in pale green velvet. She stained the parquet floor a rich, dark oak that reflected the chandeliers, so guests seemed to float between shimmering pools of light. A long, gleaming Chippendale conunode held a collection of nineteenth-century porcelain dancers, and on a small console table at the far end of the room, reflected in its matching mirror, stood a tall, pure white Meissen stork.

Looking thoughtfully at the stork, Stephanie drifted down the room toward it, smiling serenely at the strangers who greeted her. She felt at ease. A letter had come from Sabrina and everything was fine at home; Dolores had even sent Juanita to help in the house. No problems, Sabrina wrote, adding, 'I'm so bruised and stiff there's no question of doing anything in bed but sleeping.'

Surrounded by brilliant lights and soft murmurs, Stephanie imagined Sabrina in Evanston, guarding her marriage so she could return to it without any harm being done. She looked down at Sabrina's white wool challis dress with its

pattern of silver threads in the skirt and pictured her closet in Evanston. Sabrina in blue jeans cooking dinner. I owe her everything, she thought.

She picked up the stork and ran her fingers over the smooth glaze, the delicate lines of wings, feathers, talons, the small fish in its beak. Olivia thought the Meissen stork was genuine, Antonio had said. At Alexandra's party, Michel had talked about a forgery. About 'getting the stork back.* Sabrina had told her not to buy firom someone named Rory Carr because it seemed he dealt in forgeries.

Stephanie felt excitement rising within her. Sabrina had bought porcelains from Rory Carr, and at least one of them was a forged Meissen stork. Sold to Olivia Chasson. The stork she was holding was a Meissen; probably made by Kandler. She turned it over to see the mark on its underside. Yes. And it was superb; so perfect the wings seemed to flutter as she touched them. No wonder Sabrina had been fooled.

There is time to get back the Meissen stork, Antonio had said. She could do that for Sabrina; she held it in her hand. But how was she to get it back? She couldn't tell Olivia it was a forgery - only Sabrina could divulge that. She couldn't say it needed repair, because obviously it didn't. She couldn't sneak it out, because it was too big, and, anyway, the house was full of people. But somehow, before the end of the weekend—

'Sabrina, I'm so glad you're here!' Stephanie jumped. Rose Raddison had glided up behind her, braying directly in her ear. She was as thin as her nasal voice, with a narrow slice of a nose and a sharp, quivering chin. Her eyes were her best feature, and, to emphasize them, she made them up heavily. Stephanie thought she looked like an emaciated panda. 'When you told me about the breakfiront the other day, I was amazed, I confess it, and didn't properly thank you. Now I'm sure that silly rumor that you didn't like us isn't true.'

'A strange rumor for someone to start,' Stephanie said, thinking - Go on, go on, tell me why.

'Well, some people like to make trouble.'

'But not little Rose,' said a pleasant, colorless man appearing beside them. 'My sweet wife dispenses only love and kindness. Did I say that correctly, my love?'

Teter finds himself amusing,' hissed Rose.

'And so she wonders, Sabrina,' he went on, 'why you avoid her. Could it be that after four years you still remember overhearing her slandering your good name at Andrea Vernon's ball?'

'Overhearing/ Stephanie repeated neutrally.

'Peter is totally irresponsible/ cried Rose. 'Dear Sabrina, we would never accuse you of eavesdropping. Your friend Alexandra did mention recently that you happened to be nearby that night - so long ago - when we were saying how sad it was that you and Denton—'

'When you were saying/ Peter interrupted, 'that Sabrina took Denton for everything he had. But, of course, Sabrina wouldn't remember something like that, would she, dear Rose?'

Rose stretched her neck. 'Sabrina has manners, Peter. Your crudeness is quite foreign to her. If she believed that lie she would not have done so fabulously for me at the auction. However did you do it?'

Stephanie's eyebrows went up. Sabrina had never told her that story; how terrible it must have been. But now, talking about the auction, why was Rose Raddison's voice trembling with anger? 'However did I do what?' she asked coolly.

'Get it, of course, at that incredible price. You are a wonder!'

Stephanie understood. Rose had set her up to fail, just as she had thought. Feeling properly malicious for Sabrina's sake, she said, 'I wanted to save you the pain of being unhappy if I failed.'

Laughter burst from Peter Raddison. 'A direct hit, dear Rose.'

Ignoring him. Rose met Stephanie's calm smile. 'You've always been arrogant, for an outsider—'

And, at that moment, Stepiianie knew what she was going to do with the stork, still resting cool and fragile in her hand.

'I beg your pardon?' she said softly. 'I couldn't make out—'

Rose thrust her face forward. 'I said you're an outsider—*

Stephanie took a step backward and Rose followed—'and if you think you fool anyone—'

'Oh!' Stephanie cried. Stepping back, she had caught her heel in the fringe of the Persian rug. Off balance, falling, she reached out wildly to catch herself and the Meissen stork flew from her hand, falling to the parquet floor with a shattering crash.

'Oh, my God,* breathed Rose. Stephanie, rubbing her ankle, looked calmly at the shards of white porcelain at her feet. Guests crowded about them. Peter Raddison backed away from his wife. Two servants materialized with brooms and dustpans. Olivia came up and Stephanie turned to her.

'I'm terribly sorry, I don't know what made me so clumsy—'

'You were on the defensive, my dear,' said Olivia. 'Any closer and Rose would have devoured you.'

'We were having a conversation,' Rose said through tight lips. 'But if I was in any way responsible for Lady Long-worth's becoming overexcited, you must send me a bill for the - it was a bird of some kind, wasn't it?'

'Olivia,' Stephanie said quietly, 'I will replace the stork. I may know of another Meissen quite similar—'

'You will do no such thing, my dear. We carry enough insurance to replace the British Isles if someone should lose them. Find me another, by all means, and we'll take care of the cost. Is your ankle badly hurt? Shall I call a doctor?'

'No, thank you, it's only twisted.'

'Well, come and sit down.'

'Olivia,' said Peter Raddison in a carrying voice, 'Rose is feeling ill. Will you forgive us if I return her to London? You know she gets such dreadful headaches. If she can manage at home, I may return alone, if that would not upset the symmetry of your party.'

'As you please,' Olivia said indifferently. 'I'll see you out. Sabrina, sit down and rest.'

Stephanie sat peacefully on a couch while voices swirled about her, dissecting the Raddisons, talking about the Chasson art collection in the upstairs gallery, a new play in London, a charity ball at Barchester Towers in December. Olivia disappeared through the double doors with Peter and

Rose. The servants finished sweeping up the last of the Meissen stork.

I have become an expert at deception, Stephanie thought.

There was, she soon discovered, no routine in Sabrina's life. Ambassadors was a focal point for business and much of her social life, but Brian took care of the everyday running of the shop, leaving Lady Longworth fi'ee to attend auctions, visit homes she was decorating, go on week-long cruises, or work in the shop. After the fixed schedules of her life in Evanston, Stephanie felt, for awhile, at loose ends, always looking at her watch to be home on time, to begin dinner on time, to get to the grocery before it closed. Now when she looked at her watch, it was to plan the rest of her day or think about the evening. There was only one deadline, and it was on her calendar: Nat Goldner's X ray of Sabrina's wrist in three weeks.

On Monday morning, the first day of October, she woke planning her meeting with the contractor at Max's house to check on his progress. That afternoon she and Max were going to the warehouse to look at his furniture. If they could keep to her work schedule, she would begin furnishing the top floors in two weeks.

Successive owners had long since demolished the original interior of the house, altering fixtures and walls, boarding up some windows, removing a chimney. During the past few years, when it had been used as a private school, students had covered the walls and ceilings of the fourth floor bedrooms with colorfully obscene limericks.