Voice of the Heart (83 page)

Kim exclaimed, ‘Here come the engaged couple now,
avec
Christian, looking rather splendid in his togs.’

Doris and the Earl, flanking Christian in the wheelchair, strolled towards them. Doris was a vision in the pale turquoise gown, the collar of diamonds, sapphires and turquoises blazing around her neck. The three of them paused when they were a couple of feet away, their faces wreathed in smiles as they regarded Francesca, and they were so generous with their compliments that she found herself blushing furiously.

The Earl could not take his eyes off his daughter. He saw a new sophistication in her face and he thought: My little girl has grown up. His heart clenched with love for her. I’ll be losing her soon, in the not too distant future. Some young buck is going to sweep her off her feet, carry her away.

Francesca walked up to her father, took his arm. ‘Thank you, Daddy. For the dress. For everything.’

‘Nothing I could ever do is quite enough for you, my darling,’ he murmured, patting her hand resting on his arm. ‘And Doris is right. You’re simply breathtaking. You do me proud on this very special night of my life, Frankie.’

Katharine was on the sidelines, out of the limelight for once. She was silent, watching, drawing on her cigarette. Her mind strayed to the news she had received yesterday and worry gripped her again, quenching the brightness in her eyes.

David, turning to Katharine, said kindly, ‘And you also look ravishing, my dear.’

‘Thank you, David.’ She smiled at all of them, then addressed Doris, ‘If Francesca is the fairytale princess tonight, then you are the fairy godmother. You’ve certainly waved a magic wand and created a superb effect in the gardens.’

‘How nice of you to say so,’ Doris responded, summoning a smile. Try as she did, she could not warm to Katharine. Clearing her throat, Doris went on with briskness, ‘However, I didn’t do very much. I left most of it to the caterers and the staff. Now, David, shall we get a drink?’

‘Immediately, my dear. We must toast my beautiful bride-to-be. What would you like, Christian?’

‘I think champagne’s in order, Uncle David, since we’re going to drink to Doodles.’

The Earl and Doris headed for the bar, and Christian said to Francesca, ‘Diana’s a bit tardy.’

‘Oh she’ll be down in a few minutes, don’t worry.’ Bending her head to his, Francesca dropped her voice and asked gently, ‘Was Aunt Arabella all right, when you spoke to her earlier?’

‘Yes. In fact she sounded stronger, better than usual. Uncle David was with us when we ’phoned her, and she talked to him for a few minutes. He was disappointed she’d changed her mind, but glad she was in happier spirits.’ Christian brought his cigarettes out, struck a match. ‘Diana was right when she said Mother wouldn’t leave West Berlin. But the trip would have done her good, and I know Grandmother was crushed when it was cancelled at the last minute.’

‘Perhaps they’ll attend the wedding. I know Daddy has high expectations that they will.’

The Earl and Doris returned with glasses of champagne. David proposed a toast to his beaming fiancée, and everyone drank her health, wishing them both the greatest of happiness. David led Doris to a table, and they sat down, holding hands, smiling into each other’s faces, lost in their own world. Kim began a discussion with Christian about the speech he intended to make during supper, and Francesca slid away, her mind focusing, as always, on Victor. She wished he would arrive. She was taut and feverish with excitement. Hurry up, hurry up, her restless heart cried, and she drifted along the terrace, calming herself, aware the others would
notice if her behaviour was at all unusual. She edged down the marble steps, regarding the gardens. But she saw only Victor’s face, for her whole being was filled with him.

Eventually Francesca walked back up the steps. Katharine, who was at the bar getting another glass of wine, waved, then floated towards her. Francesca would never know exactly how it happened, but as Katharine drew level with her she seemed to stumble or trip, lurched forward, and then regained her balance awkwardly. Francesca stepped aside. Unfortunately her reflexes were slower than usual, and she was a fraction too late. The red wine streamed out of the glass wobbling dangerously in Katharine’s unsteady hand, struck Francesca’s evening gown on the bodice and splashed onto the skirt just below the waistline.

Horrified, Francesca stared down at the dripping peach organza, gasping, ‘Oh no! My dress! My dress!’ She was unable to move, could only gape at the disfiguring stains, the dripping fabric, through eyes wide with shock and disbelief and welling with tears. The evening gown was a disaster.

Katharine cried, ‘Oh my God, Frankie! I’m sorry! It was an accident. I tripped.’

Doris, her face cold with anger, had leapt up and was hurrying over to the two girls. Without pausing, she shouted, ‘Kim, get soda water from the bar. And salt. I
think
there’s salt on the bar.’

Christian, wheeling himself furiously behind Doris, called over his shoulder to his cousin, ‘And bring serviettes, Kim.’

Doris took hold of Francesca, who was trembling uncontrollably, and guided her back to the table, murmuring soothing words. David, also on his feet, stepped forward anxiously, his face etched with concern. He pressed Francesca into the chair gently, endeavoured to calm her. He felt completely helpless. He knew his daughter did not have another gown that was beautiful enough to wear to the dance, or even one that was remotely suitable. Dismay brought a shadow to his light eyes.

Doris said, ‘Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll fix it somehow.’

Fresh tears sprang into Francesca’s eyes, trickled down her cheeks, streaking them with mascara. ‘We’ll never fix it,’ she sobbed. ‘The dress is ruined before he… before the dance has even begun.’

Katharine hovered nervously, clutching the empty glass. Her white face had turned ashen, was stark. She was unable to speak. But Doris had not lost her voice. She pivoted to Katharine, hissing. ‘You’re not
usually
so clumsy. Quite the contrary, I’d say.’ The look she gave the other girl expressed her distaste, her fulminating rage.

Spots of colour flamed on Katharine’s cheeks. She drew in her breath, cried heatedly, ‘It was an accident. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do anything to hurt Frankie.’

Oh no, Doris thought. I bet you wouldn’t, you treacherous little monster. She grabbed the napkin and soda water from Kim, bent over Francesca, and started to clean the dress, dabbing it carefully. She sprinkled salt on the stains, watched the wine lift off, colouring the salt pink. She brushed the fabric quickly with a dry napkin, gave the salt cellar back to Kim. ‘No more of this. It’ll take the colour out.’

Kim turned to Katharine. ‘What on earth happened?’ he asked, his expression troubled.

‘I’m not sure,’ Katharine moaned, her distress evident. ‘I must have slipped on the marble.’

Kim bit his lip, at a loss. Like his father he felt useless in this emergency. He also knew the situation, was aware his sister’s wardrobe was meagre. Damn and blast, he said inwardly, annoyed with Katharine. A muscle worked in his temple.

Christian pulled out his handkerchief, passed it to Francesca. ‘Mop your eyes, darling, your beautiful make-up is running.’

Diana arrived, glanced from one to the other, saw the gown. Astonishment and alarm registered at once. ‘Oh Cheska, your beautiful dress!’

Christian explained what had transpired, and Diana cried, ‘We must get the dress off immediately, iron out the dampness, and then cover the stains with something. But what? Let me think.’

Doris, her face brightening, exclaimed, ‘Flowers, Diana! How about a long trailing corsage of fresh flowers? Pink roses, honeysuckle. There’s lots to choose from in the gardens, and I have a vase of fresh pink rosebuds in my room.’

‘That’s it, Doris,’ Diana said. ‘Come on, I’ll help you.’

At this moment Nicholas Latimer and Jake Watson sailed through the French doors, in a hurry, knowing they were late. Nick stopped short, clutched Jake’s arm. His face stiffened and his heart missed a beat. Francesca was in his field of vision, slumped in the chair, her dress stained red. He leapt ahead of Jake. ‘Is she injured?’ he shouted, his fear running high.

The Earl came to greet him. His smile was wan as he said, ‘No, no, Nick, a little accident I’m sorry to say. Red wine was spilled. I think Doris and Diana will be able to repair the damage, however, make the gown presentable.’

‘No, they won’t,’ Francesca said dully, her voice tremulous, faltering. ‘And it was such a beautiful gown.
Nobody’s
even seen it.’ She stared at Nick pointedly, then beyond him to Jake, her eyes frantic, seeking that third, and most special, face.

Nick knew she was referring to Vic. He said, rather hurriedly, ‘Oh, Doris, David, I’m afraid Victor’s going to be slightly late. He had a ’phone call from the Coast. Just as we were leaving. Business. He’ll be here shortly though.’ His eyes remained on Francesca, signalling assurance.

‘Of course. We do understand,’ David said.

Doris, straightening up, inclined her head graciously. ‘Excuse us, Nick, Jake, but Diana and I must get some garden tools.’

Diana half smiled at the two new arrivals and followed Doris at a rapid pace, her gown flaring out behind her.

Francesca fell back against the chair, nauseous and faint. She brushed her damp face with her hand, and then sudden relief trickled through her. She was glad Victor was late, that he was not seeing her like this. And quite unexpectedly her hopes soared. Perhaps Doris and Diana
would
be able to disguise the damage with the flowers. After all, her cousin was unusually creative, and imaginative with clothes. She looked down at the ugly splotches. Old blood, she thought. The stains look like old blood. She shivered.

Nick’s expression revealed his love, his tenderness towards her, and he said, ‘Come on, kid, dry your tears.’ His laughter was lighthearted; he wished to diminish the importance of the problem, cheer her up. ‘You’re not meant to play the tragic heroine.’ As he mouthed these words he pictured Victor wrangling with Arlene back at La Réserve, prayed his friend would manage to escape, otherwise Francesca would indeed be a tragic heroine. Oh Jesus, he muttered under his breath. Nevertheless, he kept his smile in place, and continued brightly, ‘Let’s get you to your room, so you can fix up that gorgeous face of yours.’

Jake, hovering solicitously, suggested, ‘Perhaps we can do something with this stole, tie it around your waist, drape it down the front of the gown. I’m sure it would be easy to stitch in place.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. ‘We’ll have you bandbox smart in no time, honey.’

Doris and Diana were back, armed with flower baskets, gardening gloves, garden scissors. Doris, in full command and bristling with efficiency, said, ‘We’re going to the gardens. We’ll only be a few minutes. Yves is searching out some fine wire, so that we can bind the flowers into a corsage, maybe two. Marie has gone to my suite to heat the iron. Kim, please take your sister upstairs.’

‘Righto,’ Kim helped Francesca out of the chair.

Katharine stepped towards her, and said in a quivering voice, ‘Frankie darling, I’m so terribly, terribly sorry.
You
know it was an accident, don’t you?’

Francesca nodded. ‘Yes, Kath, of course I do.’ A tiny suggestion of a smile flicked into her hazel eyes, was gone. ‘I’d better get a move on before the other guests start arriving.’

When his children had left, the Earl asked Jake and Nick what they would like to drink. ‘I guess it’s vodka on the rocks for both of us, please.’ Jake looked at Nick, who nodded, and then accompanied David to the bar.

Nick stood alone with Katharine and Christian. Nick said incredulously, ‘So this is
your
fault…
you
spilled the wine…’ Anger bubbled inside him and he lit a cigarette, afraid to continue, afraid of what he might say.

Katharine looked up into his lean, bronzed face, gave him a direct, unwavering stare. He’s wearing his flat blues, she thought, inspecting those eyes inspecting her, hating him. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘It was my fault. But it was an accident. I slipped.’ The bleakness on his face, his cold reproachful look, so unnerved her that she started to tremble, and tears swamped her eyes.

Christian, witnessing this brief but icy exchange, was startled, for he had recognized the exceptional loathing they felt for each other. He broke the deathly silence when he said, ‘Now, now, Katharine my dear, don’t upset yourself further. Everyone knows it was an accident. Unfortunate, of course, but no one is blaming you. Come along, let’s go and sit over there at one of the tables, until you feel more composed.’

‘Yes,’ she mumbled, wanting to escape Nicholas Latimer. Her
bête noire
.

Christian pushed himself ahead, then stopped. He swung his head, and said, ‘I’m afraid I gave my handkerchief to Francesca, Nick. Do you have one please, old chap? For Katharine.’

Nick put his hand in his pocket, and gave her his white handkerchief without saying a word.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered with a small sniffle, choking back a sob, patting her eyes with it.

‘Please excuse me, Christian.’ Nick strode away as fast as
possible. He joined Jake and the Earl at the bar, pressed down on his antipathy for Katharine, worried about Francesca.

***

‘What do you think we ought to do?’ Jake frowned, guided Nick away from the group of guests thronging one of the bars in the gardens.

Nick exhaled heavily. ‘It beats me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Jesus, it’s ten thirty already! I bet he can’t shake free of Arlene.’

Nicky looked so depressed that Jake’s own considerable worry intensified. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’

‘Sure I do.’

Jake pondered briefly, then shook his head and asserted more positively, ‘I have to disagree. If I know Victor, he’ll extricate himself from that situation, and
pronto
. If he hasn’t done so by now. Look, I bet he’s on the road. Remember how long it took us to get here from Beaulieu tonight. Let’s give him enough time. And we’d better play it cool,
bubeleh
. Nice and cool and easy. If we start showing our nervousness, Francesca’s going to be alerted, and she’ll be upset again.’