Читать книгу White Rose Of Winter - Anne Mather - Страница 8

EMMA was asleep, and Julie was changing for dinner.

The afternoon tea Halbird had provided, a delicious spread of wafer-thin sandwiches, savoury biscuits, and cream cakes, had been more than enough to make Emma drowsy, and after a swift shower she had tumbled into bed without any protest.

Their rooms were linked by the bathroom, which they were to share, and as with the lounge the appointments were attractively exquisite. Emma’s bedroom was smaller than her mother’s with a fluffy blue carpet and pale blue curtains and covers, while Julie’s room had a white carpet and violet covers and curtains. Both rooms had long fitted units to take their clothes, and during tea Halbird had hung those garments which were likely to crease in the wardrobes. The trunks containing the rest of their belongings had not arrived yet, but Julie expected they would be here in a few days as they had been sent in advance.

Julie surveyed her reflection critically in the dressing-table mirror as she brushed her hair. Had she changed much? Could Robert see much difference in her? Did she look much older?

She sighed. What did it matter what Robert thought? Although nothing had been said yet about the change in arrangements she knew that if they were to stay here for a few days it must be that Lucy had not been entirely truthful when it came to explaining the circumstances. And Julie had no intention of remaining in Robert’s apartment any longer than was absolutely necessary. Even if it meant taking a job and finding a flat of their own.

She leant forward to examine the shadows beneath her eyes. She was not sleeping well, and it was beginning to show. She pressed her lips together impatiently. What did it matter? There was no one to care how she looked here, of that she had few doubts. Lucy was accepting her because of Emma, and Robert …

A sliver of apprehension caused an involuntary shudder. She would not think of the past. She would think only of the present. And to hell with the rest.

She rose from the dressing-table stool and smoothed the skirt of the one and only evening dress she had carried with her, a slim-fitting gown of dark blue crepe jersey, that brushed her ankles and accentuated her excessive fairness and slenderness of figure. Her hair she wore as she always wore it, straight as a silver curtain about her shoulders.

When she was satisfied that there was no improvement she could make she emerged from her room and walked slowly along the panelled hall to the double doors of the lounge. A faint odour of continental coffee pervaded the air, and she sniffed appreciatively. She was not hungry, she had eaten little of Halbird’s spread at teatime, but she did enjoy good coffee.

Lamps illuminated the lounge, giving a curiously intimate atmosphere to a room that could never be described as such. And yet it was warm and comfortable, and deserted at the moment.

Julie closed the doors behind her and walked across to the plate glass windows. Venetian blinds had been let down and through them she could see the panorama of the city glittering with a myriad lights below her. And yet for all that they were in the heart of the city, it was silent up here, silent and isolated, and remote like the cabin of an airliner. One could not fail to get an inflated feeling of one’s own importance living here, thought Julie ruefully.

She was startled into awareness by the closing of the door and swinging round to face Robert Pemberton she paused to wonder how long he had been standing there, watching her. He was not wearing a dinner jacket but had shed the informal suede for a charcoal grey lounge suite that fitted his lean body closely, accentuating the length of his legs and the hard muscles beneath the rippling material. From the dampness of his hair, she guessed he had recently stepped out of the shower.

His gaze flickered over her for a moment, taking in the fragility of her appearance, and then with a casual movement of his shoulders he walked across to where an opened cabinet displayed an assortment of bottles.

‘What will you drink?’ he inquired, turning his back on her and uncorking the whisky bottle, scooping ice out of its container, chinking it into a glass.

Julie took a deep breath. ‘Gin and tonic, please,’ she replied, taking care that her voice should reveal none of her thoughts.

Robert made the drink and turning walked across to hand it to her. As he did so Julie caught his gaze, and taking the initiative, she said: ‘Are you going to tell me now why we’ve been brought here?’

Robert hesitated, rubbing his palms together where the condensation on the chilled glass had dampened them. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked briefly. ‘I can assure you my motives were purely unselfish ones.’

‘What sam I supposed to gather from that remark?’

‘What I say. My mother is incapable of accommodating you. Naturally as Michael’s widow you are welcome here.’

‘You don’t sound very welcoming.’ Julie sipped her drink to hide her nervousness.

‘Don’t I?’ Robert made an indifferent gesture. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re not sorry at all!’ Julie burst out, and then regretted it. Taking another trembling breath, she hastened on: ‘What I can’t understand is why your mother should have written and offered Emma and me a home now that – now that she’s alone, and not really mean it.’

‘Would you have come if you’d known it was I who was offering you a home?’ inquired Robert coldly.

Julie pressed her lips together. ‘Of course not.’

‘There you are, then.’ Robert turned away to get his own drink and Julie gave a helpless gasp.

‘You mean I was brought here under false pretences?’

‘Stop being dramatic, Julie. It was necessary that you should be brought back here. This was the only way.’

Julie was indignant. ‘But why was it necessary? I – your mother never wanted me when – when Michael was alive. Why should she want me now that Michael is dead?’

Robert swallowed half his whisky at a gulp and then looked at her again. ‘My mother is changing for dinner. We don’t have much time. I want you to tell me what happened – before she comes back.’

‘About Michael’s death, you mean?’

‘Naturally.’

Julie bent her head. ‘Why naturally? You haven’t shown much interest up until now.’

Robert uttered an expletive. ‘I don’t want to waste time arguing with you, Julie. Just tell me the facts. I could hardly discuss this in front of Emma, could I? And my mother’s too emotional about it for us to have a coherent conversation in front of her.’

Julie looked up indignantly. ‘And I’m not emotional, of course. He – he was my husband, that’s all!’

Robert reached for a cigar from a box on a low table, lighting it with suppressed violence. She could see it in the hardening of his facial muscles, in the grim way his teeth held the cigar, in the impatient flick of the table lighter.

‘What do you want me to say, Julie?’ he asked, straightening. ‘Do you want to hear platitudes from me? I think not. We’d both know they were not sincere. But I did love my brother, whatever you may think, and I want to know about his death. Now – will you tell me?’

Julie turned her back on him. She couldn’t bear to look at him while she spoke about something that was still painful to her.

‘You – you had the doctor’s reports,’ she said tightly. ‘You didn’t come to see him.’

‘No. A fact I bitterly regret.’ His voice was harsh.

‘Do you?’ Julie sounded sceptical, but she didn’t pursue it. ‘Well, I don’t know what more you want to hear. I didn’t know about the first attack, if that’s of any interest to you. Michael forced the doctor to keep the truth to himself. I thought he was overworked, tired. I never suspected the heat was affecting his heart. He had put on weight, of course. He drank quite a lot, but then so did everybody. In any event, I don’t believe Michael took it really seriously himself. But when the second attack came, so soon after the first, he hadn’t the strength to fight it …’ She broke off, fighting back the emotionalism that threatened to overwhelm her. Michael had been such a young man, a good man; he had not deserved to die.

‘I see.’ She heard Robert move and pour himself another drink. ‘Was he in much pain, before he died, I mean?’

Julie shook her head. ‘Oh, no. The drugs they prescribed kept him more or less comatose. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize me. But I think he guessed it was hopeless.’

‘You should have sent for me.’ Robert’s voice was abrupt. ‘You knew I would have come if I had known – if I had guessed—’

Julie looked unseeingly through the slats of the venetian blind. ‘He wouldn’t allow me to send for anybody. I don’t know why. But I couldn’t go against his wishes.’

Robert walked across the width of the lounge to her side. She hadn’t looked round, but she was conscious of him with every fibre of her being. ‘I would have come to the funeral,’ he said shortly. ‘But I was out of the country when your cable arrived. And naturally the burial took place so much more quickly than it would have done here.’

‘Yes.’ Julie finished her drink and moved away from the window. Away from him. ‘Is that all?’

Robert swung round, his expression hardening at the resignation in her voice. ‘Are you so indifferent?’ he muttered.

‘Indifferent!’ Julie put a hand to her throat defensively. ‘My God! You think I’m indifferent?’

‘Well, aren’t you? I can’t see any tears in those limpid green eyes!’

Julie found it difficult to breathe suddenly. ‘That’s a foul thing to say!’

‘Why? Am I mistaken? Are you really the bereft widow?’

Julie stared at him for a long moment, anger strengthening her weakening resolve. ‘How dare you speak to me like that!’ she demanded fiercely. ‘I didn’t ask to come here! I didn’t ask to be patronized by the powerful Pemberton family! I want nothing from any of you – you, least of all!’

Robert’s face paled slightly under his tan and she realized that for once she had succeeded in really getting under his skin. ‘That’s right, Julie,’ he snarled. ‘Show your true colours! Show what a selfish coarse little bitch you really are!’

Julie took a step forward. She wanted to slap that sneering violence from his face once and for all. But even as she moved the door opened to admit Lucy Pemberton.

Lucy was wearing a long black gown of heavy silk, several strings of pearls about her still youthful throat. For all she was almost sixty, life had aged her little, and looking at her now Julie found it hard to believe that she had not been well enough to come to the airport to meet them.

But it was no use harbouring grudges. In a few days, a week at the most, she would find somewhere for herself and Emma to live, and then she would be free of the Pemberton family for good.

‘Hello,’ said Lucy, when she saw them both. ‘You’re still here, Robert?’ Was that a note of reproof in her voice? ‘I thought your appointment was for seven-thirty. It’s gone that already, you know.’

Robert stubbed out the cigar he had been smoking and dropped it carelessly into the ashtray. ‘There’s no hurry, Mother,’ he remarked, in complete control of himself again.

‘I’m not sure Pamela would agree with you, darling.’ There was definitely a note of reproof now, and a brief dismissing glance in Julie’s direction. ‘You must meet Pamela, Julie. Pamela Hillingdon. You may have heard of the family. She and Robert are getting married in the spring.’

Julie managed to appear unmoved by this news. ‘Really,’ she said evenly. ‘But I doubt whether I’ll ever have that opportunity. She and I no doubt move in different circles.’

Robert had been reaching for the handle of the door, but at her words he turned abruptly to face her, his eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Julie,’ he stated flatly, and his mother drew her brows together in delicate bewilderment.

‘You’re not going to be difficult, Julie, I hope,’ she exclaimed, and received a quelling glance from her son which Julie found hard to comprehend.

‘Well?’ Robert demanded. ‘Exactly what are you saying, Julie?’

Julie felt her cheeks colouring in spite of her determination to stay cool. ‘Surely it’s obvious,’ she stated steadily. ‘I – well – Emma and I can’t live here. Within the next few days, I intend to look around for a job and somewhere for Emma and myself to live—’

‘What?’ Lucy put a trembling hand to her temples and sank down weakly into the nearest chair. ‘Oh, Julie, you can’t be serious!’

‘It doesn’t matter whether she is or otherwise,’ snapped Robert obliquely. ‘She hasn’t yet been informed of the facts of the case.’

‘What facts?’ Julie pressed her palms together apprehensively.

Lucy looked up at her son. ‘You didn’t tell her?’

‘I didn’t get the chance.’ Robert raked a hand through the thick darkness of his hair. When he was disturbed as he was now it was painfully easy to remember the last confrontation she had had with him, and Julie bent her head to avoid the cold brilliance of those grey eyes.

‘Will you please tell me what I’m supposed to be told?’ Julie wondered how long her legs would continue to support her. ‘Is there some reason why I should not be permitted to do as I like?’ She looked up suddenly, her eyes guarded. ‘Because if there is, I shall fight it.’

‘Oh, Julie, please.’ Lucy fanned herself with one hand. ‘Don’t be difficult! We only want to do what’s best for – for you, and for Emma.’

Robert flicked back his cuff and glanced at the broad gold watch on his wrist and Julie stiffened. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your appointment,’ she exclaimed. ‘Just say what you have to say and go!’

Robert’s eyes glittered. She knew that had they been alone there would have been things said which they might both have regretted later, although she doubted that Robert ever did anything he might regret.

‘Michael left a will,’ he said at last.

‘I know that. He left his shares in the company to the family. So what? I don’t need anything—’

‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ Robert lost control for a moment and turning away he poured himself another drink, swallowing half of it while his mother clicked her tongue irritably.

‘Can’t we all keep our tempers?’ she asked, through tight lips.

Robert turned back, the glass in his hand. ‘Very well, I’ll try and be brief. Michael left his shares in the company to the family to be kept in trust for Emma until she’s twenty-one. Until then, she is left in my guardianship.’

‘No!’ The word was torn incredulously from Julie’s lips.

‘Yes,’ said Robert inflexibly. ‘And I shouldn’t advise you to fight that!’

Julie out put a hand, catching the back of a chair to support herself. She couldn’t believe her ears. Michael couldn’t have made such a will. Not knowing … not knowing …

She closed her eyes. She thought she was going to faint and she heard Lucy say: ‘Good heavens, Robert, she’s going to pass out!’ before strong hands she hadn’t the will to shake off were lowering her firmly into a chair. Resting her head against the soft upholstery the feeling of faintness receded, and she opened her eyes again to find Robert about to put a glass of some amber liquid into her hand.

‘Drink this,’ he advised. ‘It will make you feel better.’

Julie’s breathing was short and constricted. ‘Nothing will make me feel better,’ she retorted childishly. ‘Take it away!’

Robert ignored her, pressing the glass into her hand so that she was forced to take it or spill it over her dress. ‘Don’t be foolish!’ he said coldly, straightening.

Julie looked at the glass unseeingly. She was trembling violently, and her mind was running round in circles trying to dismiss what had just been said as impossible.

‘You must go, Robert.’ Lucy was looking quite agitated now. ‘I can handle this.’

‘Can you?’ Robert looked sceptical.

‘Of course. Julie must be made to understand her position. As Michael’s widow—’

‘Oh, stop talking about me as though I wasn’t here!’ cried Julie, struggling up in her seat.

Robert looked at her dispassionately. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Are you prepared to discuss this reasonably?’

‘Reasonably? Reasonably? How can I be reasonable? Emma’s my child—’

‘But my responsibility,’ inserted Robert.

Julie shook her head helplessly. ‘Why would Michael do such a thing to me?’ she asked brokenly.

‘Don’t be maudlin,’ Lucy Pemberton was impatient. ‘My son had the sense to realize that should anything happen to him, the person most suited to bringing up his child should be his own brother.’

‘But I’m her mother!’ Julie protested.

‘Yes. And without us, what could you give her?’ Lucy sniffed. ‘You never had anything—’

‘Money’s not everything!’ cried Julie, gripping the arm of her chair with her free hand.

‘I didn’t mention money.’

‘No, but that’s what you meant, didn’t you?’

‘There are other – qualities—’

‘What do you mean?’ Julie caught her breath.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Robert ran a hand round the back of his neck, smoothing the hair that brushed his collar. ‘Let’s stop this arguing! It doesn’t matter for what reason Michael made his decision. The decision’s made now, and we must make the best of it.’

Julie thrust the untouched glass of brandy on to a side table. The smell had been enough for her. Then she got unsteadily to her feet. ‘I don’t want to make the best of it,’ she said. ‘I suppose that was why you wrote asking me to come here, wasn’t it?’ She was looking at Lucy now. ‘You knew if you told me the truth I might not agree.’

Robert heaved a sigh. ‘It might be true to say that my mother wrote to you to make things easier for you, but regardless of whether you like it or not, the will stands and will be adhered to whatever the circumstances.’

Julie swallowed hard. ‘I could contest it.’

‘You could,’ Robert agreed dryly. ‘But as my brother also states that you shall be cared for, too, I hardly think any lawyer would take the case.’ He made an impatient gesture. ‘What have you to contest?’

Julie moved her head slowly from side to side. ‘There – there must be ways,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I – I can’t be forced to live here.’

‘Agreed. You can live where you like. But if you want to remain with Emma, then you’ll have to do what I want you to do.’

‘Which is?’ Julie’s lip curled.

‘Remain here until the house I’ve bought in the country is prepared, and then live there, with Emma, and with a young governess I’ve already employed for her.’

Julie was aghast. ‘You mean – you mean you’ve already bought this house – employed this woman – all on the strength of my agreement?’

Robert shook his head. ‘On the strength of Michael’s will, Julie.’

‘And – and you? You’re getting married soon. How – how can you care for Emma?’

‘Until my marriage, I intend to spend most week-ends with her. Afterwards, no doubt some arrangement for week-ends or holidays can be arranged. I’m not unreasonable, Julie. You’ll still have your daughter.’

Julie uttered an angry cry. ‘When you say so! Is that it? And what if this fiancée of yours, this – this Pamela – doesn’t care for the idea?’

‘Pamela already knows of Robert’s commitment,’ stated Lucy complacently. ‘Really, Julie, I do think you’re behaving very ungratefully. One would imagine Robert was about to kidnap Emma and prevent you from having any kind of access. I think he’s being most generous.’

Julie shook her head. She was helpless in the face of their calm detachment, and an awful feeling of despair was gripping her heart. She was tied, tied hand and foot, and Michael was responsible. But why? Why had he done this? Surely he of all people must have known she could not bear to feel beholden to Robert …

Suddenly the telephone began to ring. The shrill sound was startling in the silence which had fallen. Robert hesitated a moment, and then walked swiftly across the room and lifted the receiver.

‘Yes?’ he said abruptly, and then his expression relaxed. ‘Oh, hello, Pamela. Yes, yes, I know. I’m sorry. Something came up. They’ve arrived, yes. I know – I know – I’ll be leaving shortly.’

Julie turned away, and as she did so Halbird came into the room from the direction of the kitchen, an enormous white apron covering his dark trousers and waistcoat.

Seeing that Robert was using the telephone, he addressed himself to Lucy. ‘Dinner is ready, madam. Shall I begin to serve?’

Lucy got regally out of her chair. ‘Thank you, Halbird. We’ll be through in five minutes.’

‘Yes, madam.’ Halbird withdrew again and Lucy looked resignedly at her daughter-in-law.

‘You’ll have gathered that Robert is dining out this evening,’ she said, in an undertone. ‘I hope we can have dinner without any further melodramatics.’

Julie stared at her. ‘This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’ she demanded heatedly. ‘You never wanted me to marry – Michael, and now you’re determined to control Emma’s life, too.’

‘Just as you were determined to marry into this family,’ snapped Lucy, all vestige of tolerance disappearing. ‘You couldn’t have Robert, so you made do with Michael!’

Julie’s lips parted on a gasp of horror, and then without another word she brushed past her mother-in-law and opening the panelled doors left the room.

In the comparative peace of her own room she stood in the centre of the floor fighting for control. This would not do. She would achieve nothing by being emotional. She needed time. Time to think this out; to adjust to her new circumstances; to endeavour to salvage something from the wreckage of her hopes for the future. By behaving foolishly now she could destroy any chance of herself and Emma leading a normal life.

She looked down at her hands. The palms were damp, and there was a film of sweat on her forehead. The thought of food, of sitting down at a table with Lucy Pemberton was intolerable right now, and on impulse she unzipped her dress and was about to step out of it preparatory to taking a cooling shower when the door of her room opened without warning and Robert stood on the threshold glaring at her.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he bit out savagely. ‘Halbird is waiting to serve dinner, and I’ve got to go out.’

Julie held the two sides of her gown together behind her back, aware that his painful scrutiny missed little. ‘I’m not stopping anything,’ she said. ‘Let your mother have her dinner. I couldn’t eat a thing.’

‘For God’s sake, Julie, be reasonable!’ Robert cupped the back of his neck with his hands as though it ached. ‘I’m trying to be patient. Now, I’m asking you – not telling you, or commanding you, but asking you to go and eat dinner with my mother and try and behave as though none of this had ever happened.’

Julie’s long dark lashes glittered with unshed tears. ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ she choked.

‘But don’t you see? It need not have happened this way. If you’d only been prepared to accept—’

‘Your charity, Robert?’ She held up her head. ‘No, thanks, I could never accept that.’

‘Then in God’s name, what do you plan to do?’ Robert advanced into the room, half-closed the door, and then opened it again as though having second thoughts.

Julie stood her ground. She would not allow him to intimidate her. She must not. ‘I – I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll have to accept your plans for Emma, but I – I don’t intend to remain dependent upon you.’

Robert frowned. ‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll get a job. If you’ve employed a governess for Emma, my presence is going to be incidental for most, or at least part, of the day. What do you expect me to do, Robert? Twiddle my thumbs?’

‘I expect you to behave as the widow of Michael Pemberton should behave – with respect, and decorum.’ Robert’s gaze raked her. ‘What have you done all these years in Malaya? How did you fill your days?’

Julie moved uncomfortably. ‘That was different. I – I had a home. A husband and family to care for.’ She turned aside, unable to bear the penetration of those grey eyes, unknowingly revealing to him the vulnerable nape of her neck, and the pale tan of the skin of her back where her dress was unfastened.

‘You still have a family,’ muttered Robert harshly. Then more huskily: ‘God, Julie, why are you so thin? How long is it since you had a good meal?’

Julie realized her state of undress with some embarrassment and turned to him abruptly. ‘Will you please go away and leave me alone? I – I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed.’

‘Julie—’ he was beginning, when there was a sound behind them and looking beyond Robert, Julie saw her mother-in-law standing in the doorway.

‘Robert!’ his mother exclaimed in annoyance. ‘Are you still here? I thought you must have gone. I was just coming to see what Julie – was – doing—’ Her voice slowed as she, too, took in Julie’s appearance. ‘Good heavens, what is going on?’

‘Nothing’s going on!’ snapped Julie, unable to stand any more of this. ‘Will you go? Both of you? I’m not hungry, and I am tired. I just want to be left alone.’

Robert swung on his heel and walked out of the room. ‘I’m leaving now,’ he said to his mother. ‘Good night.’

‘Good night, darling.’ Lucy watched him walk away along the corridor and then as the outer door slammed, she turned back to Julie. ‘I gather you’re not joining me for dinner.’

‘That’s right.’ Julie felt unutterably weary. ‘Is it too much to ask that I should be left alone?’

Lucy made an indifferent movement of her shoulders. ‘Of course not. But don’t think I’m a fool, will you, Julie?’

Julie stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’

Lucy’s gaze dropped down her body insolently. ‘Must I elucidate?’ she queried coldly. ‘Entertaining Robert in that state!’

Julie gasped. ‘I was not entertaining Robert!’ she denied hotly. ‘I – I – he just walked in on me!’

Lucy shook her head slowly. ‘I think not. My son knows better than to walk unannounced into a young woman’s bedroom.’

Julie spread a hand helplessly. ‘Go away,’ she said appealingly, ‘please!’

Lucy hesitated only a moment longer and then she nodded briefly and walked away without speaking again.

Julie almost ran across to the door and slammed it heavily, leaning back against it with trembling limbs. Oh, God, she thought despairingly. How was she ever going to bear it?