Queen of Hearts (Royal Spyness Mysteries) (17 page)

“Not at the moment, I don’t think. But he’s fickle.”

“He was pursuing Georgie until you arrived,” Mummy said. “I can’t think why.”

“He even kissed me last night,” I said with a grin. “Darcy saw and was not amused.”

“And what’s Darcy doing here then? And isn’t that Algie Broxley-Whatsit? What a little creep he always was—he groped one at hunt balls.”

“They are doing exactly the same thing as you, Belinda dear,” Mummy said. “Using my fame to get themselves a job on a film.”

“How screamingly funny.” Belinda laughed loudly. There was a stirring in the bushes and some kind of antelope bounded out. “Ye gods,” Belinda said. “You weren’t joking about the animals.”

While we dressed for dinner I told Belinda about Queenie.

“Well rid of her, darling. She was a millstone around your neck,” Belinda said. “Now, if Darcy plays his cards right and becomes a film star you’ll be able to marry him and afford a real maid.”

I was surprised at the jolt of horror I felt as she said this. Did I want my future husband to be a film star? I knew it would make him a lot of money, but it would mean a life very different from the one I had visualized. And women throwing themselves at him. Darcy was only human and I’d seen the way Stella was already ogling him.

“Tell me, Georgie,” Belinda went on. “Do you think I might really have a chance with Craig Hart?”

“For one night, maybe. Isn’t that how film stars behave? He was kissing me yesterday.”

“But when he experiences the incredible sex I have to offer, isn’t it possible that he might want an aristocratic English wife?”

“But you don’t even know him. He may be horrible under the façade. He may have tantrums and act like a spoiled little boy.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He’d have enough money to keep me happy.”

I sat on my bed and looked up at her. She already looked older than me. “Is that what you really want, Belinda? Just lots of money, no matter how you get it?”

“Money and sex, darling. That’s about it.”

“What about love?”

She looked out of the window. “I don’t think I’m destined for love,” she said. Then she peered harder. “What do you think that Stella Brightwell is doing among the trees? Feeding the animals?”

I went over to join her. It was hard to see through the fog in the fading light, but it really did look like Stella Brightwell, with something dark draped around her shoulders, moving quickly through the trees. I wondered if she’d arranged to meet Juan, perhaps. Or if she was running away in a huff after that tiff in the corridor. In which case Mr. Goldman was not pursuing her.

A
T
M
R
. G
OLDMAN
’
S
CASTLE

T
H
E
EVENING
OF
A
UGUST
3

I am still rather annoyed with Belinda although in a way I’m glad she’s here. She is so good at crashing other people’s parties. Actually I suppose I’m jealous. I wish I had her nerve.

By the time we had waited for Mummy to change her clothes and adjust her hair and makeup and had walked back to the main house, we were among the last to assemble in a long gallery that looked as if it had been lifted from Versailles. One wall was lined with mirrors. The furniture was brocade and gilt. There was a great marble fireplace in the middle of one wall. In the far corner Charlie Chaplin, Craig and Darcy stood at an impressive cocktail cabinet shaped like a Spanish galleon. Algie was hovering near them, hoping to be included in their conversation. Stella Brightwell was standing alone staring out of the window. She was toying with a strand of hair in a nervous manner. Barbara Kindell was sitting pretending to read a magazine but actually taking in the scene. There was no sign of Juan or Ronnie or the Goldmans.

Belinda made a beeline for the men at the cocktail cabinet. Mummy went over to Stella. I followed and saw what Stella was looking at. Juan was outside alone, walking up and down, puffing on a cigarette, glancing from time to time up at the castle.

“It’s not right.” Stella looked up at Mummy. “Cy discovers him in a small Spanish town, promises him the Earth. Drags him all this way, far from his home, and then tells him he’s not a star after all. Now Juan doesn’t know what to do. I think he’d like to go home but Cy has him under contract. He has us all under contract—me, Craig . . . we’re all his puppets, you know.”

“Could Cy’s change of heart have more to do with your interest in Juan than his accent?” Mummy asked. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like to share his possessions.”

Stella and Mummy exchanged a glance. “I must admit I am tempted,” Stella said. “I mean, I’m eternally grateful to Cy for everything, but you have to admit it. He’s old. And Juan—I mean, my God, what a body. I bet he’s a raging bull in bed.”

They looked back and saw that I’d overheard. I pretended to find a magazine and went to sit on a sofa but I could still overhear perfectly well.

“That was one of the things Cy accused me of in our little dustup just now,” Stella said. “Thank God you left. It wasn’t pretty. I think ‘catfight’ probably describes it. God, that woman is poison. I think she just came here to make trouble—I can’t think why else. She hates the West Coast.” She paused to light a cigarette, then took a long draw on it before she went on. “She won’t live with him. She won’t share his bed but she won’t let him go. Someone should push her off a cliff and have done with it.”

“Or feed her to the lions?” Mummy asked.

She and Stella exchanged a wicked smile.

Then the Goldmans came in together, giving every appearance of being a happy couple. “Ready for dinner, everyone?” Cy boomed in his loud voice. “Eat hearty tonight because tomorrow it’s going to be work, work, work for most of you. I want this movie shot on time. I promised Claire I’d be done with her on schedule and by God I intend to be. Come on. This way.”

He led us through double doors at the end of the Versailles room. A long dark wood table stretched the entire length of the chamber. Along it were tall candlesticks, each flickering with light. Two chandeliers hung from a wood-paneled ceiling. Small paned windows looked out onto the hillside. It was like stepping back into medieval times. There were banners and crossed weapons on the walls. Yet another suit of armor in the corner.

“Take a seat,” Cy commanded. “How about this table, huh? I got it from a monastery last time I was in Europe. And the candlesticks. They had them in the chapel but I think they look better here.” He sat at one end of the table, Mrs. Goldman at the other. Place cards indicated where the rest of us should sit. Stella was in the middle with Craig facing her. I was on one side of him, Belinda on the other. Charlie Chaplin and Mummy were on either side of Mr. Goldman. Ronnie on the other side of me. He had been sent to fetch Juan, who sat, silent and glowering, next to Mrs. Goldman.

“Okay, Maria, you can serve now,” Mr. Goldman called and a pleasant-looking Mexican woman came in carrying a tray of oysters to the table. She was just about to offer them to Mr. Goldman when Mrs. Goldman let out a yell. “What were you thinking, Cyrus? There’s thirteen at dinner. Don’t you know how unlucky that is?”

“I don’t believe in luck, personally. Besides, people have arrived who weren’t in my final count. People you brought, Helen. You brought the bad luck, not me.”

Mrs. Goldman glared and fell silent. The dinner was simple by our English standards but very tasty. After the oysters there was a spicy soup with vegetables and crunchy bits, then quail, then big slabs of prime rib, served very rare. The meal finished with ice cream with fruit. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t sensed the clear atmosphere of tension around me. Mr. and Mrs. Goldman exchanged barbs the full length of the table. Charlie was flirting across the table with my mother, who was not exactly repelling his advances. Belinda monopolized Craig. I turned to Ronnie. “Is it always like this here?” I asked.

Ronnie smiled. “You should know by now, Mr. Goldman feeds off drama. There has to be high stress around him. And Mrs. Goldman—she’s hardly ever here, especially not when he’s got guests like this. And between ourselves she’s not exactly the gracious hostess.”

He looked past me to where Belinda was now hanging on Craig’s every word.

“I see I’ve been discarded,” I whispered to Ronnie.

“Your friend is practically throwing herself at him,” Ronnie agreed. He smirked. “I wonder if she’d be so eager if she knew.”

“Knew what?”

He leaned closer. “I was going to tell you yesterday, to save you from getting the wrong idea and further embarrassment.” He paused then muttered, “Craig Hart is . . . well, you know. He is not exactly interested in the female sex, if you know what I mean.”

“Crikey. One of the leading heartthrobs in the world and he’s a fairy?” I whispered.

Ronnie nodded. “It’s a closely guarded secret. I suspect that’s why Mr. Goldman introduced him to you. He’s made it clear to Craig that he needs to marry somebody and marry quickly. Marriage to a young lady with royal connections would look good in all the picture papers, wouldn’t it?”

“How awful,” I said. “Luckily I have Darcy or I might have been swept off my feet and said yes.”

“You’d better warn your friend in a discreet way,” Ronnie said.

“Yes.” I was watching them. It would be interesting to see how things progressed.

Dinner ended and Mr. Goldman stood up. “I fancy a good cigar. Any of you guys care to join me?”

“You’d better go and smoke in your library then,” Mrs. Goldman said. “You know how I hate the smell of cigar smoke. It gives me a headache.”

“Fine with me,” Mr. Goldman said. “Brandy and cigars in the library, guys. Anyone coming?”

“I will.” Darcy got up to follow him, as did Archie, Craig and Ronnie. Charlie Chaplin started to follow them, then turned back. “I think I’d rather get to know this young lady with the long legs,” he said, making a beeline for me. “I want you to tell me all about yourself.”

“There’s really not much to tell,” I said, blushing as the others watched while he escorted me from the room.

“I believe Maria’s put out coffee in the rotunda,” Mrs. Goldman said. She led us through double doors to a round open area, just off the main foyer. It was decorated more in the Spanish style with leather sofas and chairs, heavy dark wood tables. Coffeepots and cups had been put on a low central table.

“Now come and sit next to me, you sweet young thing, and I’ll attempt to corrupt you,” Charlie Chaplin said.

“I’ve been warned about you, Mr. Chaplin,” I replied, safe in the knowledge that I was surrounded by people and Darcy was nearby. Also that two minutes ago he’d been flirting with my mother, who now looked slightly miffed.

“No doubt by our dear Barbara.” He flashed her a wicked smile. “All lies.”

“You know I only ever speak the truth, Charlie,” Barbara said. “Nobody has ever managed to sue me for libel yet, especially not you.” She went to sit beside Mrs. Goldman.

“I should help pass around the coffee,” I said, dodging past him to where Belinda was already handing around cups. Belinda was looking pleased with herself.

“Did you see how he didn’t take his eyes off me once all through dinner?” she whispered. “I think this may be it, Georgie. I’ve finally struck gold.”

I debated whether to tell her, but decided it was none of my business. I finished handing around coffee then sat on the sofa beside my mother. Charlie immediately came over and squeezed in beside me. “Now isn’t this cozy,” he said as he rested one hand casually on my knee. “So tell me all about the royal family. All the juicy scandals with the Prince of Wales.” And he walked his fingers up my thigh. I wasn’t sure whether to slap his hand or not and decided to pretend that it didn’t bother me that one of the most famous men in the world was now trying to seduce me. Two of them in two days. I rather wished that Fig could see me now.

We were still drinking coffee when Ronnie came back to join us.

“So what do we do in the evenings?” Mummy asked. “I don’t see a bridge table, or a gramophone.”

“Mr. Goldman doesn’t go in for parlor games and such,” Ronnie replied. “He has a full cinema in the basement where he’ll be happy to show you his latest successes.”

“I don’t feel like watching a film at this hour,” Mummy said.

“We could play some kind of game if you’d like to organize it, I’m sure,” Ronnie said. “Charades? Twenty questions?”

“I don’t feel like that either.” Mummy gave a bored sort of sigh. “I need a little excitement. It’s been horribly dull since I came here. Come to think of it Homer Clegg turned out to be as dull as ditchwater. Is it always horribly dull in America?”

“I have a little something in my purse that might make you feel better, if you like.” Stella moved over to Mummy and whispered in her ear, just loud enough for me to overhear. “I’m willing to share if you want to go through to the kitchen. God knows I need cheering up too. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Darling, I can’t take drugs in front of my daughter. What would she think of me?” Mummy said. There was an awkward sort of silence. I noticed Barbara Kindell watching Stella and Mummy with interest. Presumably she had also overheard. I wondered if Stella’s cocaine use would show up in tomorrow’s gossip columns.

“Cy always was a rotten host,” Mrs. Goldman said. “Of course he grew up with no sort of refinement. I’ve tried to educate him but he’s never even bothered to learn bridge. But then . . . he has found other less savory games to play.” And she stared pointedly at Stella.

We went back to sipping coffee, hoping there would not be a repeat of this afternoon’s uncomfortable scene. I think we were all glad when Darcy came back in with Craig. They went over to the coffee tray but Stella intercepted. “It will be cold by now. I’ll have Maria make you some fresh.”

Darcy came to perch on the arm of my sofa, giving my shoulder a reassuring touch. Craig went over to the window. “Too cold for a swim tonight, I’m afraid,” he said. “The fog has come in.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Belinda looked up at him. “I’m always game for a late-night swim.”

“Did you bring your costume?”

“No, but does it matter?” Her eyes flirted outrageously. I was always rather impressed and secretly envious of this skill.

“All right. Come on, then. What are we waiting for?” Craig held out his hand to her. “Anyone else care to join us?”

“Not me,” Mummy said. “Watching my nipples turn blue with cold is not my idea of fun.”

So off they went.

“What’s Cy doing now?” Mrs. Goldman demanded.

“I don’t know. I thought he was following us,” Darcy said.

“Probably playing with his new toys one more time.” She sniffed. “Just like a two-year-old. Pathetic. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going up to bed. It’s been a long and tiring day.” She got up and headed for the stairs.

“Do you want me to come up with you, Helen, honey?” Barbara Kindell asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Helen Goldman said. “I should never have come. Stupid. Absolutely stupid.” And she stomped off, across the tiled foyer.

There was an awkward silence, then Ronnie and Darcy went off to talk in a corner, the latter glancing back at me as Charlie’s hand rested on my knee while he whispered something silly and rather risqué in my ear. I grinned at Darcy to let him know he didn’t need to worry. Maria arrived with more coffee and handed around cups.

“Where’s Juan?” Stella asked suddenly.

“He went to bed right after dinner,” Ronnie said. “I don’t blame him. It hasn’t been the easiest sort of day, has it?”

“I wonder if I should go and see if he’s all right. Give him some moral support,” Stella said. She started for the front door.