The Devil at Archangel (24 page)

now and if they didn't dawdle on the way, they might still get to La

Villette in time.

She was careful not to let her impatience show as they got back into

the car, and leaned back in her seat with a fair assumption of

casualness as if the puncture had merely been a boring setback of a

purely transitory nature.

'You keep your fingers crossed,
m'mselle,
that the other old tyre don't

go on this devil road,' was Louis' genial adjuration as he started up the

engine. Christina closed her eyes for a moment. The prospect was too

awful to contemplate.

Every nerve of her body seemed to be jumping with tension as they

drove into La Villette and negotiated a careful passage through the

crowded streets she remembered so well, Lorna had given her an

address not too far from the harbour, which she handed to Louis,

telling him briefly that she was meeting Madame Maynard later and

would have no further need of his services.

'Yes,
m'mselle.'
Louis gave her a respectful but rather dubious glance

as if he doubted her ability to look after herself in the admittedly

unsalubrious surroundings of La Villette. Christina supposed that the

whisperings about her future position in the Brandon menage had

almost certainly reached the servants' quarters first, and that Louis

was only doing what he regarded as his job in guarding—what had

Lorna called her?—'the young mistress'.

She got out of the car with an air of confidence she was far from

feeling and walked off down the road without looking back and

without hurrying. She had checked her watch and she still had a little

time in hand, miraculously. She looked back to make sure the car had

disappeared, then quickened her steps. She turned the corner, and to

her relief, found the harbour was already within sight. It seemed more

crowded than she remembered, with every type of boat tied up there.

But the ferry was still there—that was the important thing. It was only

as she walked along the jetty towards it that she realised there was no

gangplank or any other sign of passengers or cargo being taken on

board. She increased her pace, gripped by a vague worry. Was it on

the point, of leaving? Could she still get them to accept her? She

began to fumble in her handbag for her purse.

She walked along beside the ferry, staring up at its bulk.

but it seemed oddly deserted. Yet if her watch was right, it was just on

sailing time. She hesitated, then caught at the sleeve of a passer-by,

wheeling a bicycle loaded down with odd-shaped bundles.

'Pardon,
m'sieur,
how does one board the ferry?'

The man grinned at her cheerfully. 'No ferry today,
m'mselle.
The big

wind comes soon. See.' He gestured towards the horizon, and

Christina saw to her amazement that the gentle feathery wisps she had

noticed earlier had burgeoned somehow and metamorphosed into a

great ominous bank of cloud that seemed to threaten thunder and

worse things.

'You mean—it's not going to sail? I can't get to Martinique?' Panic

made her voice wobble, and the man's smile became reassuring.

'Go home to your friends,
m'mselle.
That's the best place when the big

wind blows. But tie your roof on or the devil's breath will whisde it

right into the sea.' And he pushed his bicycle away, chuckling.

Christina stood very still in the centre of the wharf. Her heart was

thudding so hard it was hurting her. She couldn't get to Martinique.

There was just no way. And Louis and the car would be on their way

back to Archangel by now. How long, she wondered desperately,

would it be before she was missed? Wouldn't it be better to admit

defeat now and hire some sort of transport to take her back before the

whole flimsy house of cards she had built to mask her departure came

tumbling down around her?

She looked at the storm clouds and shivered involuntarily. She

wondered how long it would last when it came. One thing was

certain—the streets of La Villette would be no place to be when it did

arrive. She needed shelter and fast. But where could she hide that the

Brandons would not discover? She kicked herself mentally. She had

to get a grip on herself. They didn't have supernatural powers— just a

modified form of megalomania. All she had to do was keep out of the

way until the storm had blown over and the ferry was running again.

Surely that wouldn't be too difficult?

She was so lost in thought that she did not hear the approaching

footsteps slow down and stop beside her. Her first intimation that she

was no longer alone was when a slim well-kept hand descended on

her arm in a grip that hurt.

'Well met, Tina,' said Theo Brandon, and he smiled. 'Now whatever

are you doing here
,
cherie?'

CHRISTINA sat slumped in the passenger seat of Theo's sports car, her

unseeing eyes fixed on the scenery flying past the window. She was

on her way back to Archangel.

There was an air of positive self-congratulation about Theo. There

had been little point in trying to maintain the fiction about the band

when he had caught her standing on the wharf, staring longingly at

the ferry. And the same impending storm which had kept her in

harbour had also been responsible for the curtailment of his cruise.

There was a terrible irony in that, she thought almost detachedly.

The sky was darkening rapidly and ominously. She could see

lightning flickering on the horizon, and every now and then a gust of

wind like the advance guard of some great army seized the car and

buffeted it.

'It really isn't very civil, Tina, sneaking away like this.' Theo sent her

a darting look. 'I would have thought that silly old woman in England

would have taught you better manners than that. Grand'mere said she

had. She said that she might be a fool, but she would have taught you

to behave.' He heaved a mock sigh. 'She won't be very pleased to be

proved wrong.'

Christina closed her eyes wearily. 'Perhaps it will simply convince

her that I'm the wrong kind of wife for you. I hope it does.'

'Oh, no.' He smiled and his supple hands tightened perceptibly round

the wheel. 'We have no fears on that score. We'll soon be able to—rub

off any rough corners that remain, Tina. You're going to be a very

important lady.'

'Theo!' Christina made no attempt to hide the appeal in her voice.

'Why does it have to be me? It—it's quite ridiculous. You can't force

me to marry you in this day and age.'

He tutted shockedly. 'What a terrible idea! No one's going to force

you, Tina. We just hope that if you stay with us a little longer, you'll

see things our way. It's an ideal arrangement—you must see that?

You need a home and I need a wife.'

'But you don't.' She stared at him wretchedly. 'You're hardly more

than a boy. It's years yet before you need to be married.'

He gave a light laugh. 'Life's an uncertain thing, Tina, especially

when you have estates—an important heritage to consider. No one

expected Uncle Carey and Aunt Madeleine to drown like that—but

they did.'

A thought struck her. 'And your parents, Theo? What happened to

them?'

His face went completely blank, the smugness, the malice she had

glimpsed earlier totally erased.

'That's not important,' he said after a pause. 'It's you and I who are the

important ones, Tina. Archangel needs us, don't you see?'

'I see nothing of the sort,' Christina returned. She had slid her hand

down beside her and was fumbling for the door catch, but it seemed to

be fitted with some kind of safety device because it did not move

when she pushed at it. She had some wild notion that if she could

open the door, she could jump out as Theo slowed for a bend. But

even if she did not actually break an arm or a leg as she jumped, what

then? Where could she run to hide—and with the storm gaining on

them with every minute that passed.

'There has to be a child,' he said rapidly. 'A child to inherit—if

anything were to happen to me. Grand'mere hasn't done what she has

done just to see Archangel fall into the hands -of that waster—that

parasite. Do you know what he'd do with it, Tina? He'd break up the

plantation, give it
back to the islanders. So I must get married and

have an heir. That's why it has to be you. There's no one on Ste

Victoire for me to marry. There are girls on Martinique, sure, plenty

of them, but there'd be problems. They'd ask too many questions—or

their families would, and Grand'mere doesn't want that. That was why

it was so lucky when the old woman in England died when she did.'

Christina wondered dazedly whether she could believe what she

seemed to be hearing. That was Aunt Grace he was talking about so

callously.

'Stop it!' she pressed her hands convulsively over her ears. 'Have

some respect, at least. She was your grandmother's friend.'

He gave a shout of contemptuous laughter. 'Friend! That's rich. Oh,

they were at school together, I grant you that, but there was no love

lost between them.'

Christina gazed at him wonderingly. 'Then it was all a lie,' she said

slowly and bitterly. 'Every word of it. And she told me that Aunt

Grace and she had shared a dream— that their children would

eventually marry.'

'Oh, that part of it's quite true,' Theo said negligently. 'That's how

Grand'mere found out you existed. The old woman wrote to Tante

Madeleine when you went to live with her, highly delighted because

she now had the daughter she longed for. But it wasn't me you were

intended to marry,
cherie,
it was Devlin. Grand'mere found the letter

among Tante's things when she was sorting them after the funeral. It

was Tante Madeleine who was your godmother's great friend, not

Grand'mere.'

Christina closed her eyes. She felt physically sick. It seemed she was

to be spared nothing—not even the fact that two elderly women had

once innocently planned to marry her to the man she most desired in

all the world and who was now beyond her reach for ever. She fought

back her tears. It was nonsense even to let herself think in terms of

'might-have-been'. Plans and dreams were one thing: reality quite

another. No amount of sentimental scheming by anyone could

transform Devlin into a tractable bride-groom. How he would laugh if

he knew, she thought un- j happily. -

Theo was speaking again. 'Grand'mere gets a newspaper sent to her

from England—a relic of the days when Grand-pere was alive. When

she saw that Miss Grantham had died, she immediately arranged to

set off in search of you. Of course, if you had been ugly or in any

way unsuitable, she would not have proceeded in the matter.'

'I wish,' Christina said very clearly, 'that I was cross-eyed,

snaggle-toothed and hunchbacked.'

He laughed. 'But you are not,
ma chere
Tina, so we will not discuss

such idiocies. You need more flesh,
quant a fa,
for my taste, but our

good food will soon see to that.'

'You must stop talking as if I'm going to stay here,' she said. 'I've

failed this time, but as soon as I get another opportunity I shall leave.

I'm not a sacrificial lamb to be led to the slaughter, you know. And do

you really imagine I've forgotten that jolly little game in the

swimming pool?'

He shot her an ugly look. 'I don't mean you to forget it. I'm the master

at Archangel, my sweet Tina. Perhaps you need another reminder of

the fact. I must confess I was surprised at your spirit. I rather like it, in

fact, although it has caused some difficulties.'

'Am I supposed to thank you for that?'

He went on as if she had not spoken. 'No, I like a certain amount of

fire in a woman. You worried me when you first arrived because you

seemed such a timid little thing in some ways. You got very uptight,

didn't you, when I telephoned you in your room when you first

arrived and you didn't know who it was? And then you told me about

what had happened in Martinique and I could see that had upset you

too.' He frowned. 'I began to wonder if you had enough courage in

you. But that day in the swimming pool, I knew everything would be

all right. You'd have drowned sooner than give in to me, wouldn't

you?'

'I'm glad the message got through,' she managed. Surreptitiously she

wiped her damp palm on her skirt and slid her hand down again to

seek the recalcitrant door catch.

Suddenly Theo swung the wheel of the car sharply and it veered

across the road. In spite of herself, Christina cried out as the flimsy