The Rich Are Different (108 page)

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We
were fascinated with one another. After years of speculation the desire to compare the fruits of our imagination with reality was irresistible and we both succumbed to the temptation.

Finally Cornelius laughed. ‘Perhaps we should spend the first five minutes putting each other under a microscope!’ he commented, and even that remark illustrated the gulf between my mental picture of him and the man he really was. No one had ever told me Cornelius possessed any quality remotely resembling a sense of humour.

None of his stone-faced photographs had done him justice. They had caught the perfection of his exquisitely moulded cheekbones, the unbelievable shade of his hair and the splendour of his black-lashed grey eyes but not the spark of his wry intelligence and his utter masculinity. Men might once have thought Cornelius effeminate but I was sure no woman had ever made such a mistake. It was true he was short but he was perfectly proportioned. If he had been a Hollywood actor they would simply have given him a petite leading lady and every woman in the audience would have sworn he was at least six feet tall.

Most unnerving of all, there was a slight but unmistakable family likeness between him and his great-uncle. I recognized not only Paul’s straight handsome mouth but the mysterious air of confidence in his movements, the grace which hinted at an athlete’s muscular coordination. Like his friend Sam Keller he was the most attractive man.

I suddenly remembered I was wearing slacks and a dirty pullover and probably reminded him of the Wreck of the Hesperus.

‘We’ll have tea upstairs in my sitting-room,’ I said. ‘Excuse me while I speak to my housekeeper.’ And I left him in the hall while I went to the kitchens in search of Mrs Oakes.

Later when I showed him into the sitting-room I said: ‘Excuse me again, but I never receive visitors while I’m wearing trousers so I shall now go and change. I won’t be more than five minutes. Do sit down.’

I left him with my photographs of Paul, Steve and the children, just as I’d planned, and after escaping to my room I leant back against the door panels until I was breathing more evenly. I felt frightened for the first time since I had seen him, but I steadied myself and began to change. I used only the minimum of make-up but I brushed my hair up into a knot to make me look efficient and put on the traditional business-woman’s uniform, my classic smooth black tailor-made coat and skirt with the white silk blouse and the row of pearls. Without thinking I stepped into a pair of high-heeled shoes but fortunately I remembered his height and took them off. There was no point in annoying him unnecessarily. I was just searching in my wardrobe for a pair of flat shoes when I heard Mrs Oakes enter the sitting-room next door with the tea-tray.

Emerging two
minutes later I found Mrs Oakes had gone, the silver teapot was standing stoutly on the table and Cornelius was looking at my best photograph of Elfrida.

‘Your daughter’s pretty,’ he said. ‘I guess she must be about the same age as my little girl.’

‘Elfrida is a little older than Vicky, I think.’ I sat down to pour the tea and was aware of his glance flickering without expression over the pictures of my sons. He already had his back to the photographs of Paul and Steve.

‘Did you come to see Tony?’ I asked as he sat down opposite me on the sofa

‘No, I came to see you,’ he said with a smile. ‘I must apologize for not calling first but I felt I knew you well enough to stop by unannounced. How’s Tony getting along?’

‘Very well. I thought Emily might have asked you to persuade him to return to America.’

‘She did but I’ve no intention of doing anything of the kind. I’m delighted if Tony’s happy here. He certainly wasn’t happy in the States and to be honest I found him a great trial. It was a pity. I did my best but nothing worked.’

‘Rather ironic isn’t it,’ I said, handing him his cup, ‘that you should find yourself looking after Steve’s children.’

‘Well, Scott’s no problem. And as for the little girls …’ He shrugged to indicate not indifference but equanimity. ‘Since I was responsible for Emily’s marriage to Steve, it’s only right that I should now assume responsibility for the results. “Though the mills of God grind slowly,”’ added Cornelius surprisingly, ‘“they grind exceeding small. Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.”’

‘Ah yes,’ I said, ‘the “Sinngedichte” of Friedrich Von Logau. Such a heavy-handed translation by Longfellow, I’ve always thought … How long have you been in England?’

‘Twenty-four hours. I arrived yesterday after a long, uncomfortable and devious passage from Germany where I had to go to sever some connections which Sam had unwisely made when he was in Europe last year.’ He sighed. ‘I knew I’d hate it and I did. I can’t speak German, no one wanted to speak English and I was terrified everyone would think I was a spy and march me off to a concentration camp. It was all very tiring – and I couldn’t even get fresh orange juice for breakfast,’ he added crossly as an afterthought.

‘Why didn’t you send Sam to correct his own mistakes?’

‘I thought he ought to stay at home and practise being neutral.’ Cornelius looked glum. ‘My worst dread is that as soon as America enters the war he’ll be interned. God knows what I’d do without Sam at Willow and Wall. I don’t even like to think about it.’

‘So you foresee America entering the war?’

‘Well, that’s what we usually do, isn’t it? We’ll come in eventually, straighten you all out and pick up the sordid bits and pieces. The only difference between this war and the last is that after this one the Pax Britannica
will be as dead as a dodo and we’ll see the dawn of the Pax Americana.’ He sipped his tea meditatively. ‘Europe will be a museum piece,’ he said, ‘but perhaps still a field for American economic expansion. I think I shall eventually invest in the tourist industry. You have such nice old buildings here, really very quaint. I can understand why you spend so much time looking backwards into the past instead of concentrating on the present and preparing for the future.’

‘We are tomorrow’s past,’ I said, reaching for a cigarette, ‘and the future is only a continuation of what has gone before … Do you have a light?’

‘I don’t smoke.’ But he sprang up, reached for the box of matches above the fireplace and lit my cigarette for me.

We looked at one another across the flame.

‘Why are you here?’ I said quietly as the flame died.

When he replaced the matches he paused by the fireplace. ‘Well, you won’t believe this,’ he said ruefully, ‘but I come waving the olive branch of peace again.’

‘Same olive branch?’

‘Right down to the last identical olive. Look, Dinah, this feud is quite unnecessary and now that Steve’s dead I consider the whole unfortunate matter closed. Forgive me – perhaps I should have offered my condolences but in the circumstances I really felt they would have been inappropriate. I despise hypocrisy,’ said Cornelius, giving me a straight honest look with his black-lashed grey eyes, ‘and I wouldn’t have wanted to insult your intelligence by telling you how sorry I was about Steve.’

‘Quite.’

‘I’m sorry you equate his accidental death with the suicide of Jason Da Costa, but I honestly don’t feel they’re comparable. However—’ He cleared his throat. ‘—I accept that you have a right to be angry with me, and I’d like to do what I can to make amends. You must be worried about your children and the imminent invasion. Maybe you’re also worried financially. Well, all I’m saying is that there’s no need for you to worry any more – just say the word and I’ll arrange for you to leave the country and work in America until the war’s over. I know we could make a lot of money if we did business together so I suggest we meet in London this week to work out a suitable agreement with our lawyers. Let me assure you again that my offer to set you up in a new business in New York is completely bona fide.’

I stood up to face him. He stopped leaning lightly against the chimney-piece and straightened his back.

‘Do I have a choice?’ I said.

‘Why, of course you do! You can say yes. Or you can say no. Only,’ said Cornelius, with a sigh as he moved to the window and gazed over Mallingham Broad, ‘I really wouldn’t advise you to say no.’

He stroked the wall of my home with his index finger and sighed again. ‘This is such a lovely, lovely house,’ he said. ‘I’d just hate anything to happen to this house, Dinah, I really would. I hope it survives the war.’

It was absolutely quiet. He turned dreamily to face me, his movements
languid, his beautiful eyes glowing. He was intoxicated with his triumph, exhilarated by his power.

At last I said: ‘How can I be sure it survives the war?’

‘I can arrange for it to be handled with care during the occupation.’

‘Oh, but the Germans won’t be coming,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Tell that to the British army in France! But you don’t really have to worry about the Germans, Dinah,’ he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a long brown envelope. ‘The only person you have to worry about is me.’

He opened the envelope. He drew out the Mallingham conveyance. And he fanned his face with it leisurely as he watched me.

‘May I pour you another cup of tea?’ he inquired kindly as I sank down in my chair.

I did not answer. He poured more tea for us both, tucked the deed carefully away in his pocket again and once more sat down opposite me on the sofa.

‘If I accept your offer to come to America,’ I said steadily at last, ‘does that guarantee Mallingham’s safety?’

‘Well, naturally it does, Dinah! And if things go well I’ll even convey the property to you. But that of course—’ He smiled at me. ‘—would depend on how … agreeable you are in New York.’

I saw the expression in his eyes and read his mind as effortlessly as if it were a slogan on a poster fifteen feet high. This was no naïve hankering to follow in Paul’s footsteps; this was the exercise of sexual power in the pursuit of revenge. He would humiliate me in New York, shame me before my children and still have Mallingham reduced to rubble. There was no promise he could ever make which would guarantee to me the safety of my home.

I had always thought I would be overcome with terror when I received incontrovertible evidence of his final plan, but now I found to my surprise that my knowledge at once gave me new courage. I had always been resolved to outwit Cornelius but now I was fanatical in my determination not to be defeated by him. Men like Cornelius Van Zale deserved to be beaten to their knees. I could never let him win. It would be an outrage.

I thought of ‘The Revenge’, of Sir Richard Grenville exhorting his men to fight on, and I smiled.

‘My dear Cornelius!’ I exclaimed. ‘Is that a proposition? What a compliment! I’ve never been propositioned before by a handsome millionaire seven years my junior! I feel positively rejuvenated!’

He was watching me closely, his hard dry narrow mind calculating the chance of success with great shrewdness and minute attention to detail. He would not be an easy man to fool. With a pounding heart I forced myself to look guilelessly at the stark bones beneath his pale skin, the brutal line of his mouth and the bleakness of his stone-cold grey eyes.

‘But why should I be surprised?’ I added pleasantly. ‘You’ve followed closely in Paul’s footsteps, haven’t you?’

‘Paul’s dead,’ he
said, and for a split second I looked straight through the windows of his eyes into the full dark complexity of his bereavement.

I felt as if I had seen some horrible mutilation. In an effort to conceal how shaken I was I made a great business of stubbing out my cigarette, smoothing my skirt over my knees and taking a sip of tea.

‘When can we meet in London to draw up this agreement?’ I said abruptly.

He was reassured by the businesslike tone of my voice. ‘Monday?’ he suggested, crossing one leg casually over the other.

‘I’m afraid it may be difficult for me to leave here before Tuesday. Would you mind waiting until then?’

‘I’m sure the occasion will be worth waiting for!’ he said gallantly with his best boyish smile. ‘Will you have dinner with me afterwards? I’m staying with the American ambassador but maybe I can take a suite at Claridge’s for the evening. I feel a new partnership deserves a little celebration.’

‘Delightful!’ I said. ‘But may I recommend a suite at the Savoy? It’s so beautiful in the early morning to look down the river and see the dawn break beyond St Paul’s.’

I’d hooked him. I saw the fascination creep into his eyes, the prurient interest, the barely suppressed shimmer of eroticism.

‘I’d like that,’ he said.

I let my smile linger and rose to my feet. ‘I’ll come downstairs to see you off,’ I volunteered. ‘You have a long drive back to London.’

He gave me the card of the Van Zale solicitors in Lincoln’s Inn. ‘Shall we say two-thirty on Tuesday at that address? I’ll be there unless I hear from you to the contrary.’

‘All right. Yes, that’s fine.’ Clasping the card tightly I showed him downstairs and across the hall to the front door.

His chauffeur-driven limousine was waiting in the drive.

‘On loan from the Embassy,’ explained Cornelius, pausing to say goodbye. ‘The ambassador’s been very hospitable to me.’

He held out his hand. I shook it without hesitation. As my flesh crawled I reminded myself it was the first and last contact I would ever have with him.

‘So long, Dinah. It was fun meeting you at last. I’m glad we were able to do business together.’

‘See you on Tuesday, Cornelius!’ I watched him drive away, and when the car had disappeared I swung very slowly to face the house.

I looked at it until my eyes ached in the hot glare of the sun, and as my vision blurred I could see only the quotation from ‘The Revenge’ which Paul had inscribed long ago in my treasured volume of Tennyson. Blindly I moved indoors, but long before I reached the library I heard Paul’s voice ringing in my ears: