No Time For Love (Bantam Series No. 40) (9 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Wy
nstan came down to breakfast and entered the Dining-Room with its fine plaques decorated with the heads of Roman Emperors which had been found amongst the foundations of the Villa.

The servants hurried to bring him coffee and food, and as he looked out at the sunshine he was glad not to be in New York.

He wondered how Harvey was faring and realised that yesterday had been Election day.

He could imagine the crowds, the turmoil, the noise, the violence, the heart-ache and the bitter disappointment of the unsuccessful candidate.

He had a feeling that, however optimistic Harvey might be, Theodore Roosevelt would be re-elected.

He had his enemies—at the same time people looked to him for stability and that was something that was going to count in this particular election.

However, if Harvey did lose, he could not ascribe it to any trouble that Larina had made for him.

Thinking of her, Wynstan could not imagine her making trouble for anyone.

He had thought as they sat at dinner last night that she was different from any woman he had ever met before.

It was not only her looks, which still made him think of the statue of Aphrodite, but also the way she behaved when she was alone with him.

Wynstan had realised, after he had changed and come downstairs to find her waiting in the Drawing-Room, that she was a lady and it was therefore an insult that they should have asked her to come to the Villa un-chaperoned.

But Harvey had been so convinced that she was a gold
-
digger, a brazen hussy who had got her claws into Elvin because he was rich, that Wynstan had not stopped to think that she might turn out to be very different from the image his brother had created.

Yet he thought it extraordinary that she had accepted Elvin’s invitation. She could have refused to set out on the journey accompanied only by a Courier, or she might have insisted on bringing a Chaperon with her.

He did not realise that when he went to change before dinner Larina had thought much the same thing.

The question of a Chaperon had simply not arisen in her mind, when she expected she was meeting Elvin at the Villa.

She longed to see him, she had a deep affection for him; but she had never thought of him as a man such as her mother had warned her about, or in whose company she was well aware she should be strictly chaperoned.

But although she had thought of Wynstan as a god, he was still a man, still disturbingly masculine, and when twenty minutes later he came into the Drawing-Room wearing his evening-clothes she thought it would be impossible for any man to look more elegant or more attractive.

“I should not be here alone,” she told herself. “Mama would be shocked!”

Then she thought that perhaps as Wynstan was an American he would not realise that she was defying the conventions of society.

“And even if I am,” Larina asked herself, “what does it matter?”

They sat down to a delicious meal, for as Larina had already found, the Chef in the Villa was outstanding and his dishes were so novel and unusual that they were a delight in themselves.

Before Wynstan arrived, when she had been alone she had, of course, talked to the Italians who waited on her, who had explained to her the dishes and were delighted that she appreciated them.

She had learnt that Naples was famous for its spaghetti in all forms and that
Maccheroni alia Napoletana
was spaghetti served with sauce made from a special plum-shaped tomato and grated cheese.

But what Larina had enjoyed most had been the delicious fresh fish. The Italian Butler had told her that she must visit the fish-markets where she would see every variety from the little silver-blue anchovies to a gigantic octopus.

The Chef at the Villa cooked
trigla
or red mullet, superbly and also the
spigola
or sea bass of the Mediterranean which Larina learnt had no English equivalent.

Wynstan was offered grilled
tonna
or tuna fish, for breakfast which the cook had decorated with scampi.

He had just helped himself from a silver dish when Larina came in from the garden.

She was wearing one of the thin muslins she had brought from Paul Poiret. It was of a very soft green, the colour of the first buds of spring and her hair looked like the pale morning sun.

“You are early!” he exclaimed rising to his feet.

“I have been up for a long time,” she answered in her musical voice. “I could not bear to miss
...
anything.”

There was something in the way she spoke which made Wynstan look at her speculatively.

Then one of the servants pulled out a chair from the table and she seated herself opposite him. As she did so, he thought of how long they had talked last night.

He had found it a new experience to have a woman listening to him wide-eyed, as if he was the source of all wisdom, and without making any attempt to draw his attention to herself.

After the flirtatious enticements of Yvette Glencairn, who could not say ‘good-evening’ without suggesting a
double entendre
he found that Larina’s grey eyes fixed on his face spurred him to an eloquence he did not know he possessed.

They talked, as was inevitable, of the Villa, of the Greeks who had built there and the Romans who came after them.

He told her how his grandfather had found the site quite by chance when he was looking for somewhere to retire; how he had become obsessed with the idea of re-building on the old foundations; and how every expert in Italy had come to Sorrento to advise him.

Larina listened wide-eyed.

Then when Wynstan told her how his grandfather had sought all over the country for the furniture, the pictures and pieces of statuary to decorate not only the house but also the garden, she had said as if it sudden
l
y struck her:

“It must have been very expensive!”

Her words stopped Wynstan as effectively as if she had slammed a door in his face.

‘So she is thinking of money!’ he thought.

Because he had been carried away by a subject which interested him, he had revealed all too clearly that expense was of little importance where the family was concerned.

Harvey would have sneered at him for being so inept and because he felt he must somehow explain away what had already been said he replied:

“Labour is very cheap in Italy. It would naturally cost a great deal more today than it did then.”

“Yes, of course,” Larina said. “I was really thinking how fortunate it was that your grandfather in his wide search was able to buy so many ancient treasures which would otherwise have been lost, or perhaps deliberately destroyed by those who did not understand them.”

There was a cynical smile on Wynstan’s lips as he said: “We appreciate them, and there are a number of us amongst whom the house and grounds must be divided.” He realised as he spoke that Larina was not listening, but following the train of her own thoughts.

“I have always longed to own a piece of Greek sculpture,” she said. “Once I saw a marble foot in a shop window in London which I was certain was Greek, but it was too expensive and I could not afford it.”

“Perhaps we can find you something while you are here,” Wynstan replied. “In the obscure villages and in the poorer parts of Naples there are often treasures of which their owners have no idea of their value.”

For a moment he thought Larina’s eyes lit up. Then she said in a tone he did not understand:

“It is too
...
late now!”

They had talked after dinner until it was nearly midnight, and only the striking of the clock made Larina realise that perhaps she was being selfish.

“You must be tired,” she said in consternation. “You have been travelling for days to come here and I should have suggested that we retire early.”

Wynstan did not reply. He was tired not so much from the travelling as from the two nights he had spent in Paris.

He had in fact been feeling rather guilty after meeting Larina that he had been delayed by his own desire for enjoyment and therefore she had been alone in the Villa except for the servants.

She did not appear to have minded, but he could imagine that most women of his acquaintance would have been exceedingly annoyed at such cavalier treatment, even if they had not actually been frightened.

But Larina, he thought, seemed already a part of the Villa.

“Do you think that Elvin will arrive today?” she asked.

“He might,” Wynstan answered cautiously. “Are you so impatient to see him?”

“Yes, I must see him ... I must see him quickly!”

There was something in the way she spoke which made him look at her in surprise. Then leaving her breakfast unfinished she rose from the table and walked across the room to the window.

“Harvey must be right and she is having a baby,” Wynstan told himself.

And yet as he looked at her slim figure with its small waist silhouetted against the sunshine, it seemed highly improbable.

It was not only her figure which perplexed him; there was something in her eyes and in the expression on her face which made him feel it was impossible she could be anything but pure and innocent.

‘I am a fool to be taken in by her!’ Wynstan thought and he went on with his breakfast.

It was difficult to think that with his experience of women he could be deceived by someone as young and unsophisticated as Larina. Yet he knew, if he was honest, he would have staked a fortune that she was what she appeared to be.

There was something untouched and innocent about her which made him once again think of Aphrodite.

At the same time he had to face facts: she was certainly in a state of agitation because Elvin had not arrived as she had expected.

He could not know that Larina looking out onto the garden was telling herself there were only two days left.

Time had slipped by so quickly ever since Mr. Donaldson had called on her in London. The excitement of the journey abroad and the enchantment of the Villa when she arrived had made her almost forget that the sands of time were running out.

Today was the 13th. There was tomorrow and then
...

She drew in her breath.

It was difficult to know how Sir John could have been so precise, but there had been something in the way he spoke and the gravity of his manner which told her he was utterly sure of his facts.

She felt her heart give a frightened leap.

Suppose it stopped now at this very moment when she was looking at the brilliance of the flowers and the butterflies hovering above them?

Then she told herself she had two days more besides the rest of today in which to enjoy all this beauty and she must not spoil it by fear.

With an effort she turned and went back to the table.

“If Elvin said he would come ... I know he will keep his
promise,” she said, more as if she was speaking to herself than to Wynstan.

“What did he promise you?” he asked in a deliberately casual tone.

There was a moment’s pause before Larina answered: “That he would come to me ... if I wanted him.”

“And why do you want him so particularly?”

Wynstan did not look at her as he spoke but seemed intent on buttering a piece of bread.

There was a silence. Then at length Larina said:

“There is
...
something I have to tell
...
him.”

“Would you not like to tell me? If it is a problem of any sort, I am sure I can solve it for you.”

“No
...
no!”
Larina cried sharply.

As Wynstan looked at her she added:

“Only Elvin will
...
understand. That is why I am so
...
anxious to see him.”

Wynstan thought there was no point in pressing her at the moment.

Perhaps he might do so, but somehow it seemed unkind. She seemed so young, such a child in some ways, that he could not bully her as Harvey would have done. Instead he felt certain that sooner or later he could charm her into telling him her secret.

“I was wondering whether you would like to come down to the jetty with me and see my motor-boat,” he said in a different tone of voice.

“A motor-boat?” Larina exclaimed. “I have never seen one!”

“They do exist!” Wynstan said with a smile, “and this is a boat I had specially made for me.”

He saw she was interested and went on:

“I was friends with Captain William Newman, who two years ago crossed the Atlantic from West to East in a boat which had the unusual name of ‘
Abiel, Abbot Low
’.”

“I have never heard of him,” Larina said.

“Perhaps the Americans were more excited about his achievement than the English,” Wynstan said. “But it certainly made history since the boat was powered by a paraffin engine of a mere 12 h.p.!”

“And you have a boat like it?” Larina enquired.

“Not so big,” he replied. “In fact mine is much smaller. Shall we go and look at it?”

“Oh, yes, I would love that! Will you wait while I get my hat?”

“Of course,” he replied.

She ran from the room eagerly.

He looked after her with a puzzled expression in his eyes.

He supposed it was because he had had so little to do with young women that he found it difficult to understand her.

All his love-affairs had been with mature, sophisticated, social personalities who had enormous confidence in themselves and their attractions.

He knew that Larina was unsure of herself, and he found the way that she looked at him to see if she had said or done anything wrong was very appealing. She was very young!

And yet, their conversation last night had told him that she not only read a great deal but she also had a good mind.

He might have expected a banal, brainless conversation with a girl who was so young, or else a flirtatious coquettishness just because he was a man and she was a woman.

But Larina’s mind, he found, was focused not on him, except in so far as he could instruct her, but on the mythology of which they talked and the gods and goddesses who seemed so much more real to her than human beings.

And yet, as she came running back to him, now holding a large straw hat in her hand, she had the excited eyes of a child being taken for a special treat.

Wynstan led the way through the garden and down the narrow steps which his grandfather had made in the cliff.