Sonnet to a Dead Contessa (25 page)

Septimus looked fondly at this younger daughter of his. “That was the way it was with your mother and I when we got married,” he said. He looked across the table and smiled at his wife. “You remember that, dear? Hard times, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was, but we didn’t mind. We were so in love that though a mere pittance was all we had, we didn’t care.”

“You never told me that, Mother,” Dora said.

“Well, that’s how it was. You may not believe it, but your father was a very romantic man. He even learnt how to play a guitar and sing love songs to me.”

Clive, who had been taking all this in, suddenly laughed. “Do you still have that guitar, Father?”

“I don’t believe so. I think I hocked it once when we were struggling to make ends meet.”

“I would love to hear you sing one of those songs.” Clive grinned broadly. Then he turned and said, “Sister, count on me. Matthew, anything I can do, I will.”

Serafina smiled. She saw Aunt Bertha was puffed up like a large toad, but she gave her a warning look and turned to Dora and Matthew, saying, “I think it’s wonderful. And, Matthew, it’s very good of you to take all the responsibility on your own shoulders. I think I’d be proud to have you as a brother-in-law.”

“At least we have two weeks. We can make some preparation,” Alberta said. “After all, we don’t lose a daughter every day in the week, do we, Septimus?”

“We’re not losing a daughter. We’re gaining a son. Someone to support us in our old age, I’d say.” He winked at Matthew, and Matthew laughed. “It’ll be quite an honour having the superintendent of Scotland Yard in our family. Don’t you think so, Aunt Bertha?”

Lady Bertha Mulvane did not think so, not in the least, but when she looked at the happy faces around the table, she was at least smart enough to see that her cause was lost. “I’ll be available to attend to any of the details of the wedding.”

“Thank you, Aunt Bertha.” Dora smiled at her. “I’m sure we’ll be calling on you.” She turned to Matthew and reached out to hold his hand. “I have you trapped now. You can’t get away.”

“I’ll never get away from you, not in a million years,” Matthew Grant said. His fellow workers at Scotland Yard would have been shocked and amazed at the tenderness in their superintendent’s face as he looked at his bride-to-be.

Dylan was lying flat on his back in the middle of the floor, and Guin was crawling all over him. He laughed, suddenly seized her, got to his feet, and tossed her up. “You’re a charmer, you are.”

“Stories! More stories!” the child cried.

“Oh, you want more stories, do you? Well, you’ll have to give me a token of your affection. Here, give me a kiss right here.” He touched his cheek, and Guin threw her arms around him and kissed him.

“Now, more stories,” she commanded.

Dylan plopped himself down in a chair and began telling some wild, outrageous story. He had discovered that the child loved stories of any kind, and at the age of two, he soaked them in. He found it was impossible to shock her, for when he told stories of ogres who devoured little children in the woods, that was no more shocking to her than the Little Red Riding Hood tale that she demanded very often.

Meredith had been making tea, and she said, “Put that child down and talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t do it. I have a previous engagement.”

Meredith pouted. “I declare. I believe you think more of Guin than you do of me. I’m absolutely jealous.”

“Well, she’s prettier than you are.”

Meredith glared at him for a moment and then burst out in laughter. “You’re a fool, Dylan! You say the wildest things I ever heard.”

“Well, I like younger women, you see.”

Meredith came over and tugged at his hair and brought a cry from him. “You behave yourself or I’ll pull all your gorgeous hair out. Then where would you be? A bald-headed Macbeth? I don’t think it would work.

“It’s time for your nap, Guin.” Meredith ignored the protest of her daughter, picked her up, and disappeared. She came back soon smiling and saying, “She wants more stories, but she’s so sleepy she’ll go right off.”

“She’s a beautiful girl. Going to be a beautiful woman just like her mother.”

“Don’t try your wiles on me,” Meredith said. “I’m so excited, Dylan.” She pulled him over to the couch and was now pressing against him. He was extremely conscious of the scent that she always used in her hair and in her clothes. She was giddy, for she had been given a larger role in a playhouse down the street from the theatre where Dylan was performing. Dylan had felt somewhat guilty about introducing her to the acting profession, for he was not an advocate of women actresses. He knew too many of them for that. But he had been instrumental in finding her this new role, and she had done well in the rehearsals.

“It’s so exciting!” she exclaimed, and her eyes were sparkling. “Just think, I could be a star one day!”

“You could, but I’m not sure you’d like it.”

“Not like it?” Meredith stared at him. “I would love it. You just don’t appreciate what you have, Dylan. I can’t understand it. You know what it’s like to be poor, and now you’re making lots of money, and people admire you. I just don’t see how you can say it wouldn’t be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’ve seen too many actors and actresses go wrong, and sometimes the more success you have, the easier it is to stray. That’s why I’m a little bit afraid of success. It takes your mind off important things.”

Meredith stared at him in disbelief. “Important things? What could be more important than having a successful career?”

“God.” Dylan spoke at once and shrugged his shoulders. “If we don’t love God and give him first place, all the success in the world will turn to ashes. I’ve seen it happen.”

Meredith smiled and moved closer to him, and Dylan was well aware of her touch. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and he noticed the smooth ivory shade of her skin where her blouse fell away from her throat. Her eyes were wide and coloured a blue shade of grey. They seemed to have no bottom, and her black hair lay rolled and heavy on her head. Her best feature was the curve of her mouth, which was ripe and self-possessed. Her figure as good as any woman’s in England. He was well aware of the way the light from the window touched her and ran over the curve of her shoulders, deepening her breast.

Suddenly her nearness within him set off shocks, and his vision was narrowed down until he saw only the full swell of her lips and their increasing heaviness. Her breath quickened, he saw, and her lips made a small change and became soft with the caught interest of a woman. Her delicate fragrance slid through the armour of Dylan’s self-sufficiency, and Meredith sensed it at once. She turned toward him, putting herself against him, and her hand went up behind his neck. She pulled his head down, and without meaning to he laid his lips on hers. The kiss affected Dylan powerfully. It seemed to fan close-up hungers that had been in him many years. He knew he would remember, for a long time, how soft and sweet her lips were, and
the vibration of her voice as she whispered his name. She whispered, “Do you care for me at all, Dylan?”

The question caught Dylan off guard. She was nestled within his arms, and her eyes had caught his.

“I’ve always thought you were a sweet and beautiful child, and you haven’t lost that.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know how I feel. We’re going in different directions. You want to get into the theatre, and I want to get out.”

“But if we care for each other, that wouldn’t matter, would it?”

“I don’t know, Meredith. You’re tempting to any man. Certainly I know that.” All at once Dylan recognised that he was falling under her spell in a way that he had not responded to a woman in years. It frightened him, and he did not know why. He suddenly moved and got to his feet. “I think I’ll have to go. I have to be at the theatre in an hour.”

“Stay awhile longer.” The invitation was clear in her voice and in the set of her lips and the glint of her eyes.

“I’d better not, Meredith. I’m happy you got the part. We’ll talk about this some other time.” He turned quickly and left the house. As soon as he was outside, he took a deep breath. He felt as if he had just had a close escape. She was a very tempting woman, and he knew she had opened a door of invitation to him. He had almost walked through it, and now he felt like a man who had just escaped falling into a trap. It troubled him, and he could not get it out of his mind as he turned and hurried down the street.

“I don’t know why you’re fussing so much, Dylan. After all, it’s only an art exhibit.”

The two had turned and were headed into a large public building. On the outside was a sign that proclaimed an art exhibit was being held. Dylan stared at it moodily. He still was troubled over the scene with Meredith. Of course, he had not mentioned this to Serafina.

“We’ve got to get Matthew and Dora some wedding presents, and I would like to get them a picture for their new place together, whenever they get one.”

“I don’t know anything about art.”

“Well, I don’t know much, but I know when I like a painting. Come along and don’t argue with me.”

“You’re getting to be a bossy woman.”

“I always was. You just never noticed.”

Suddenly Dylan laughed. “I noticed, all right. It was one of the first things that I noticed about you.”

They entered the art gallery, and Dylan felt out of place. There were pictures on the wall that he didn’t understand and people he didn’t know, and he stayed by Serafina’s side. She knew many people and stopped once to introduce him to a couple. “Baron DeMain and Lady DeMain, may I introduce you to my friend Mr. Dylan Tremayne.”

“Oh, I’ve seen Mr. Tremayne on the stage.” Lady DeMain’s French descent showed itself in her accent.

Her husband, the French ambassador, smiled as he nodded toward Dylan. “I’m not happy to meet you, sir.”

Dylan and Serafina stared at the baron, and Serafina asked, “Why do you say that, Baron?”

“She insisted on going back and seeing that play three times.” The baron chuckled. “I must admit it was not a painful duty. I admire your interpretation of Macbeth very much.”

“Thank you, Baron,” Dylan said. He never knew exactly how to talk to nobility, so he let Serafina and the baroness do most of the conversing. He suddenly looked across the room and said, “Look, there’s Martha Bingham and that protégée of hers, Jeanne St. Clair.”

“You’re acquainted with them, right?” the baroness asked at once, speaking to Serafina.

“We’ve had dinner recently. She has been after me for some time to join her crusade ‘to set women free,’ as she puts it.”

“She is a nuisance, isn’t she? Oh, dear me, here she comes, along with her two followers! We’ll have to listen to her views again on the superiority of women and the inferiority of men.”

Martha Bingham was, indeed, set on a mission. “How do you do, Baroness and Baron, and you, Lady Trent.” She paid no attention whatsoever to Dylan, which amused him.

“I didn’t know you were an art fancier, Miss Bingham.”

“Oh, she is!” Jeanne St. Clair spoke up quickly. She moved closer to her employer and took her by the arm as Violet moved aside to stand by the wall. “She loves beautiful paintings.” Serafina had noted that Jeanne and Violet were never far from their leader.

“Yes, I do,” Martha Bingham said, “but I’m here to do more than look at paintings. I want to ask you two again to join me in my crusade to set womanhood free in England.”

Serafina knew this was coming. She stood there as Miss Bingham presented the entire case for the emancipation of women, and her eyes met those of Lady DeMain. The baroness just rolled her eyes upward in despair—a gesture Martha Bingham caught at once. “I can see,” she said, “that you are still determined to live in the Dark Ages. Now, come along, Jeanne. Come along, Violet. If you ladies change your mind, please let me know.” Martha strode away, with Jeanne by her side and Violet bringing up the rear.

“What a bore,” Baron DeMain said after the two had left. “Are there many of her kind in England?”

“A few,” Serafina said. “Come. Let’s select a picture. We’re buying a painting for my sister, who is going to marry Matthew Grant, the superintendent of Scotland Yard.”