The Demon Lover (22 page)

I was thinking: You would never do it. You could not. He would never allow it and he is the one who calls the tune.

Bertrand took my hand and pressed it. I tried not to show how I shrank from his touch.

Everything was changed. I believed I would never be able to shut out of my mind the images which crowded into it, and Rollo de Centeville dominated them all.

I did not think Bertrand wanted to marry me now. I had seen that look of revulsion in his eyes when he had looked at me in that bed. It was not that he did not believe I had been tricked and forced against my will . he believed all that without a doubt. He saw me as the victim I had been; but at the same time he could not forget that, as the Baron said, I had been his mistress.

I could never marry Bertrand. Everything between us had been over since that moment he came into the bedroom.

So for once Rollo would not have his way. The object had been to make Bertrand eat his words. He would marry one of the Baron’s castoff mistresses . so he had thought. He was fooled at last, for there would be no marriage.

I was glad to be alone.

His last words were: “I will write. We will work out something …”

I smiled at him. I knew it was over.

I leaned over the rail looking at the swirling water and I was filled with an angry resentment. I thought of that Kate Collison who had crossed the Channel not long ago setting out on a dangerous adventure.

And dangerous it had certainly been, for I had come within the orbit of that strange man, the barbarian who had changed my life.

Fury seized me. He had dared use me because he wished to show that he must be obeyed. Bertrand must obey him. It had nothing to do with his desire for me, which I had believed must have been great for him to go to such lengths to satisfy it.

That was the ultimate humiliation. That was what angered me deep down more than anything else that had happened to me.

Away in the distance I could see the white cliffs. The sight had a healing effect on me. I was going home.

Nicole

––<r<^>––—It was a strange feeling travelling through the Kentish countryside.

The orchards, the hop fields, the oast houses, the meadows and the little woods, they all seemed so fresh, even after the summer. They looked the same as I had seen them many times before. It was I who had changed.

People would surely notice. I could not be the same. I did not look quite the same. Would they ask questions? How should I answer them?

One thing I knew and that was that I could never bear to talk of the shameful thing that had happened to me.

It seemed that every day my hatred for that man grew more intense. If he barbarian that he was had greatly desired me, although I could not have forgiven him, perhaps I might-beneath my resentment have felt a little flattered. But it had not been like that. He had merely wanted his revenge on Bertrand and he had used me for that purpose, taken me as though I were some inanimate object to be picked up and thrown aside when he had finished with it. That was how he saw all people. It did not occur to him that they might have feelings . or did it? Perhaps he simply did not care that they had. Everything . everyone . was for his pleasure.

Well, he should not score this time. He had ruined my life . and Bertrand’s too perhaps . but he was not going to get the result he was looking for. His plot was going to fail. He could say that I had been his mistress albeit most unwillingly-but he could not make me marry Bertrand.

We could snap our fingers at him.

But I must stop thinking of him. He was over as far as I was concerned. I hoped never to see him again. I had to think of myself and what I was going to do. There was only one way to act and that was to carry on as though this had never happened.

Could I do that? I would soon be put to the test.

I took the station fly and very soon I was getting out at the familiar house.

There was a cry from within.

“She’s here. It’s Kate.”

And they were running out. I saw my father first and his face was shining with happiness.

“Kate!” he cried.

“Dear Kate.”

Then I was in his arms. He held me away from him and studied me. I felt myself flushing. Was it obvious? But he gave no sign of anything but the utmost joy . and pride that more than anything.

“My dearest child,” he said.

“It was a great success … beyond my dreams.”

I thought: His eyes are not strong enough to notice the difference.

I saw Clare then. She was standing shyly in the background. Some of the servants were with her Mrs. Baines the cook and Jerry the handyman, and the maids. They were all grinning their pleasure.

Clare came forward and took my hand tentatively. I kissed her.

“You look well,” she said.

“We were all so happy to hear that the picture was such a success.”

Mrs. Baines had cooked a steak pie. I had liked it as a child and had been eating it frequently ever since because it was said to be one of my favourite foods. Supper would be served early, she said. She reckoned that travelling whipped up the appetite.

Clare took me to my room.

“Oh Kate,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

NICOLE 175

I looked at her steadily and said: “You know about my father now.”

“Yes, he told us all when he came back.”

“What is it going to do to him?”

She was thoughtful.

“Oddly enough,” she said, ‘he doesn’t seem as upset as you would think. It was due to all that success you had. He told us about it. How that Baron was it? had a special gathering and introduced you, and how you were going alone to do the miniature of the princess and how you had other commissions. He feels his talent is a precious gift and it has been passed safely into your hands. “

“You really think that’s how hf feels?”

“Oh, I do. He has talked to me about it.” She lowered her eyes almost apologetically.

“I think it’s because ofEvie … and my being a connection of hers. He feels he can talk to me.”

“It’s for you yourself, Clare,” I assured her.

“Evie was a wonderful rock for us, but she wasn’t particularly sympathetic about our painting. She said it was ” very nice” but I think it was only acceptable because it was our livelihood. He feels you understand, Clare.”

“Oh, I do hope so.”

“One senses it,” I told her.

“You must have had a most exciting time. You look … I waited apprehensively.

“Different,” she finished.

“Different?”

“Well… more worldly, I suppose. Naturally you would … travelling and being recognized. It has made a difference in you. You look … shall I say? … poised.” She laughed.

“Don’t ask me to explain. I was never good at explanations. When you have washed and changed do go and talk to your father. He is so longing to have you to himself I went to him as soon as I could. He was in his study. Hanging on the walls were two miniatures-one he had done of my mother and the other of me as a child. They were exquisite pieces of work his best, I always thought. He would never part with them.

“Kate,” he cried.

“It is good to have you home. Now tell me everything.”

Everything? I should certainly not do that. I wondered fleetingly how my dear, good and rather innocent father would have reacted to the rape of his daughter.

“The Princesse’s miniature …” he went on.

“It was approved.”

“Did the Baron come to see it?”

“No. I had to take it to him. He has paid for it.”

“My dear Kate, you will be rich. Was the Princesse an easy subject?”

“In a way, yes. She was just a young girl.”

“But a Princesse!”

“She was quite a normal girl really.”

“And the Baron …” There seemed to be a long pause.

“He really did like it, then. Was he as enthusiastic about it as he was about your portrait of him?”

“I don’t know. I think he liked it though.”

‘-Wonderful. A man who would not be easy to please. “

I wanted to scream out: Please stop talking about him. The only peace of mind I can have is in forgetting him.

“What about you?” I asked.

“You have come to accept… the inevitable.”

“The fact that you have been recognized makes a lot of difference to me, Kate. I always knew you had a remarkable talent, but I did think it was going to be difficult to make the world realize it. And now thanks to the Baron …”

I said quickly: “Has there been any change in your eyes?”

“I fancy I don’t see as well as I did when we set out on our travels.

It is like looking into a fog. a little way off. but the fog creeps nearer. That was a mad prank of ours, Kate, but the wonder of it was

that it worked. If the Baron hadn’t NICOLE i if been a true connoisseur of art, it could never have happened. “

Could he not stop bringing the man into the conversation? He seemed obsessed by him.

“I have other commissions now,” I said quickly.

“Yes. That is wonderful.”

“I shall be going back to Paris to the house of the Duponts in three weeks’ time. I have to paint the two daughters, you remember.”

“It’s quite wonderful. And when I think what you owe to the Baron ..

”

I said: “I think we should go to dinner now, Mrs. Baines won’t be pleased if we are late.”

So we dined-my father, Clare and I and I tackled the steak pie to Mrs. Baines’s satisfaction and answered the questions which were fired at me.

Clare looked on with her big doe-like eyes, full of happiness because I was home and my father was coming to terms about his encroaching blindness.

It was amazing how many times my father mentioned the Baron. It was impossible to escape from the man and I felt as though he were sitting at our dining-room table with us.

And that night I dreamed of him. I was lying on that bed in the lodge and he was approaching me. I screamed and awakened, greatly relieved to find myself in my own homely bed.

I wondered then, was I ever going to banish that man from my life?

A few days later a letter came from Madame Dupont. She hoped I would come as soon as possible. Her sister-in-law wanted to talk business with me too. She also had a daughter and was eager to have a Collison miniature other.

“Of course,” she wrote, “I know you are committed to do the wife of Monsieur Villefranche first but please do not let him thrust someone else upon you before you do my sister-inlaw’s girl.”

I was indeed a success. And he had done that for me, but I could not be grateful to him. I could feel nothing but hatred and disgust.

I would go earlier than I intended. I felt I had to get away from all the interrogation which I had to endure concerning my stay in Paris and I could not bear my father’s constant references to the Baron.

Moreover, life in Farringdon was not the same. I thought the vicarage family frankly boring and I had never been so very friendly with the Cambomes.

Clare was getting on very well in the village. She had fitted in like a native and was constantly at the vicarage, decorating the church and discussing means of raising money for the bells and involving herself generally in the affairs of the neighbourhood. They all liked her, but her particular friends were the Cambome twins. She talked to me about them. She was a little concerned because Hope had an admirer and she worried a little about poor Faith.

“What would she do,” she said, ‘if her twin married. She can’t join up with them, can she? I do think poor Faith is getting very apprehensive. How strange nature is . to make two people so close .

”

I scarcely listened. The affairs of the village had become very dull to me.

I was glad when the time came for me to leave.

My father said: “It looks as though you will have several commissions.

There is this new one coming along with the sister-in-law. You must take advantage of it. “

“It could mean quite a long stay in Paris,” I pointed out.

“The longer the better … at this stage. You have to get known. Later you can be more selective. It would be a mistake to overload the market, but just at first you must get known.”

NICOLE I JQ

“I feel I can leave you in safe hands.”

“Clare is wonderful. Shall I whisper something? She’s easier to get on with than Evie was.”

“That’s exactly what I think. Evie was a marvel of efficiency but Clare is more … what shall I say? She’s softer … more human . “

“You’re right. You couldn’t leave me in better hands. So … no need to worry about anything at home. Keep your mind on your work. You’re going to be the best Collison of us all.”

I was rather relieved when the time came for me to set out for Paris.

In spite of everything, I couldn’t help feeling exhilarated when I arrived in Paris. It was early evening when I stepped out of the train at the Gare du Nord and immediately caught that whiff of excitement which the city had previously aroused in me. I was caught up in the bustle and noticed immediately the noise. The French talked so much more loudly than we did in England and their hands were as expressive as their voices. I heard strains of music coming from somewhere; and I smelt the familiar smell of trains and perfume.

I thought then: The past is done with. I shall begin again from here.

But when the porter carried my bags and hailed a cab for me and I caught sight of the cocker with his blue coat and white hat, I could not stop the tremor of apprehension running through me. I would never entirely forget. Even as I stepped into the cab and was asked in a friendly voice where I wanted to go, I looked suspiciously into the smiling face and saw another there.

I pulled myself together and gave Madame Dupont’s address. I felt deeply moved as we trotted down the familiar

Boulevard Haussmann. The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore was not far off.

The Duponts’ house was in the Boulevard Courcelles nestling among a row of tall white houses which I came to recognize as typical of the town houses of those who had estates in the country.

I suspected the Duponts were of that genre, as they had been guests of the Baron. I was sure he would only know people who were rich or of noble lineage.