Antigua Kiss (28 page)

Christie noticed approvingly that the children ate everything which was put in front of them. John was inclined to look askance at anything but the convenience foods which her undomesticated sister had fed her family on, but Christie hoped to cure him of his faddiness eventually.

The twins joined in the conversation, but without any showing off.

Duff concentrated on his food, with some discreet assistance from Nanny Maitland.

As Ash had predicted, after lunch his friend proposed a walk. But Emily said, 'You two chaps go off for a tramp. I'm going to show Christiana the house and the garden.'

Later, alone with Christie, she explained, 'I'm being careful not to overdo things at the moment. I had two miscarriages between the twins and Duff, and I don't want to lose this baby which I'm just starting, so a gentle ramble round the garden is better for me than a strenuous hike with the men. Anyway, they'll enjoy an hour or two on their own. They're almost like brothers, you know. It's a shame they can't see more of each other. But Hugo is rooted here, and Ash belongs in the sun.'

In a gesture of impulsive warmth, she linked arms with Christie for a moment or two. 'It's going to be even nicer coming out to Antigua, as we do every year, now that Ash is married to someone of my own sort. Some of his girl-friends have been a bit chicken- witted. I'm dying to see this lovely old place he's bought. What fun for you, doing it up. Marrying Hugo, I could have been deprived of all that. But his mother is such a darling, she insisted I should re-do everything just the way I wanted it.'

They had come to a small lobby, leading into the garden. It was hung with old macs, tweed coats with leather-patched elbows, oilskins and a variety of headgear and footwear.

From this selection Christie borrowed a windcheater and a pair of green gumboots.

As they left the house, Emily went on, 'Diana's mother-in-law was the most appalling old battleaxe who went on ruling the roost until she died at ninety-three. She would never hear of any changes. By the time Diana had a free hand, she'd been struck by this wretched illness which keeps her in a wheelchair. Also my father-in-law hated spending money inside the house, although he lavished it on the estate. The gardens have always been heaven. One must give Hugo's grandmother her due. She was a brilliant gardener, and a working one, too, unlike most of that generation.'

Even in January it was possible to see that, when spring came, the gardens at Peacocks would be heavenly indeed. Christie had had no idea there were so many winter-flowering shrubs and heathers. She saw that old flagstones, old bricks used for paths, and old statuary contributed a great deal to the beauty of the place, and gleaned many ideas that she felt could be adapted to good effect in a Caribbean garden.

But it was the interior of the house, even more than the grounds, which she enjoyed being shown.

'Have you had some training in interior design?' she asked Emily, impressed by her colour sense.

'No, but while Hugo's immersed in
Country Life, I
pore over
House &
Garden,
and I've filched a lot of ideas from professional designers like David Hicks and David Mlinaric who specialise in dealing with this kind of house.'

Talking to Emily, feeling pleased by the rapport which had sprung up between them, Christie forgot the disturbing conversation she had overheard before lunch.

She remembered it while she was dressing for dinner. Ash had not come upstairs with her, as he had said he would. He and Hugo had walked several miles, coming back to the house at dusk to find the women and children enjoying hot buttered crumpets, home-made strawberry jam, shortbread and Dundee cake.

Later, when Emily had suggested it was time to change, Hugo's comment had been, 'You girls go ahead. It'll take you an hour at least.

Ash and I can be ready in ten minutes. Time for a drink, I think, Ash.

What'll it be? Whisky and soda?'

For some seconds, not very long, Ash had turned his dark gaze on his wife, his expression inscrutable.

Had he been remembering their conversation before lunch and deliberating whether to find some reason for accompanying her?

Whatever had been in his mind, after a brief hesitation he had accepted the offer of a whisky and soda.

Before leaving London that morning, Christie had been into Liberty's and bought herself a red silk shirt to wear with the white Mexican skirt which had red flowers among its embroideries. She had also bought a kid tie belt of the same colour to link skirt and shirt together.

Her eyes and lips were made up with the cosmetics given her by her sister, and she was dressed and ready when Ash entered their bedroom.

'Will I do?' she asked, a little uncertainly, as he closed the door and she turned from her own final inspection of herself in the cheval-glass.

'Admirably,' was his answer. 'But I should take off those sand dollars.'

'Oh . . . yes, if you feel they don't look right.'

Although the skirt was embroidered in brilliant colours, she had felt that the plain silk shirt needed a necklace of some sort.

While she was removing the sand dollars, Ash crossed the room and she saw him take his shoulder- strapped travel bag from his part of the wardrobe. From the bag he extracted a package. Having stripped off the wrappings, he crumpled them and tossed them in the dressing-table waste box. He then placed two leather cases in front of her.

'I think these will look better,' he said.

The larger of the two cases was an unusual shape, more or less round with a projection at the back and front. She touched the catch and lifted the lid.

'Ash.'
she gasped.

Lying in a serpentine groove in the dark velvet bed was an early Victorian snake necklet of overlapping gold scales. The snake's eyes were rubies, and its head was ornamented with rubies and diamonds, as was the heart suspended from its jaws.

'You like it?' He leaned over her shoulder to lift it from the case and put it round her neck.

The tip of the snake's tail fitted into a tiny slot at one side of the head.

His hands rested on her chest as he dealt with the fastening.

'It's magnificent, and perfect with my lovely engagement ring.'

'That.!s what I thought when I noticed it in Asprey's window on my stroll this morning.'

'Asprey's! Oh, Ash, how extravagant of you. Thank you . . . thank you

very
much.' She controlled an impulse to take one of his hands, which now were on her shoulders, and kiss it.

After a pause, he asked, 'Aren't you going to open the other box?'

'Yes, of course.' She had been transfixed by the beauty of the jewel now lying at the base of her throat.

The second case contained a pair of small ruby ear-rings. He kept his hands on her shoulders while she fixed them in place and reiterated her thanks.

'Were you relieved or disappointed that I didn't come upstairs with you earlier?'

The question caught her unprepared. She opened her mouth to reply, but could find nothing to say.

He flicked the necklet with a forefinger. 'I suppose, now, you don't like to tell me that you were relieved,' he said, in his most sardonic tone.

'That's .not fair! I wasn't—' she began.

'You weren't relieved?' He lifted a sceptical eyebrow. 'Then you must have been disappointed. In that case, let's hope the guests don't linger too late.'

His hand slid down from her shoulder to cover a breast. Within seconds his gentle fondling had exacted an involuntary response which brought a thin smile to his mouth.

'Shall I teach you something new tonight?—After you've stopped resisting and your alter ego has taken over?'

'I . . . hadn't you better start changing?' Already her voice was uneven.

In a moment, if he didn't stop, she would start to tremble.

He gave a harsh laugh. 'Very well. I'll let you off for the moment. But later, when the party is over, we'll perform that degrading exercise which your mind rejects but your body seems to enjoy.'

With which he strode to the bathroom, leaving Christie upset and bewildered, all her pleasure in the jewels he had given her doused by the hostility in his manner.

As Christie made her way to the main staircase, intending to go down to the drawing-room on the ground floor which Emily had shown her earlier and where household and guests would meet, she encountered Nanny.

'How nice you look, Mrs Lambard. What an unusual skirt!'

'Thank you. It's from Mexico. My husband chose it.'

They chatted for a few minutes. To postpone the moment when she would have to put on a party smile and meet fifteen strangers, Christie asked, 'Might I say goodnight to the twins? I expect Duff is already asleep.'

'Yes, he is. But the twins are not. Do come.'

Christie lingered in the children's wing as long as possible.

Eventually, Nanny said, 'I think they may be wondering what's become of you, Mrs Lambard.'

'Yes, I'd better go down. Goodnight, Nanny.'

Suddenly wishing she could spend the evening in the cosy day nursery, browsing through some of the Victorian and Edwardian children's books she had noticed on the crowded shelves, Christie left Nanny knitting, with a television set to switch on later if she wished.

A party of six people had recently arrived when she reached the gallery which led from the top of the staircase round three sides of the upper hall, with corridors leading off it.

As she paused to look down, these three couples moved out of sight and Ash came into view below her, talking to an elderly woman. At the same time the butler opened the door to some new arrivals, two men and a much younger and extremely glamorous blonde woman in a black velvet cloak with a glittering clasp. At the sight of Ash she gave a loud exclamation.

'Darling!
What a
super
surprise. I wasn't told
you
would be here.

You're
exactly
the person I need to restore my morale. I've been having
the
most
ghastly
time—too unutterably vile. How
are
you?

How
divine
to see you!'

After which enthusiastic outburst, delivered in a deep plummy drawl, she flung her arms round him and kissed him, full on the mouth.

Celia, I presume, thought Christie.

As she walked down the stairs she saw Celia let go of Ash and, smiling radiantly at him, reach up to unfasten her cloak.

'May I take that for you, Miss Dane?' the butler enquired, at her elbow.

'Thank you, Johnson.'

Ash was wiping her lipstick off his mouth with a linen handkerchief.

He caught sight of his wife, and said, 'Ah, here comes Christiana.'

'Christiana?' Celia swung round to see at whom he was looking.

As Christie descended the last few stairs, he introduced the other woman to her. Then, to Celia, he added, 'Christiana and I are in England for our honeymoon. We were married just under a week ago, in Antigua.'

'Married!
You . .
. married, Ash?' she exclaimed incredulously. 'Oh, darling, I can't
believe
it!'

'Looking at Christiana, I should think you would find it very easy to believe it.'

'How do you do, Miss Dane.' Christie offered her hand.

'How do you do. Well, yes, I do see what Ash means. You are rather a bobby-dazzler, as my father used to say.' Her large topaz-coloured eyes, fringed by long thick lashes, some her own and some not, appraised Christie's figure and clothes.

She herself was wearing clinging black silk, high- necked and long-sleeved but slit to mid-thigh on one side, revealing one black-stockinged leg and the four-inch-high heel which had enabled her to kiss Ash on the mouth.

By this time the two men who had arrived with her were in conversation with the elderly woman. Celia remembered their presence and summoned them.

'Peter. . . Leo . . . come and meet the honeymooners.'

She made the introductions, Ash introduced Christie to the older woman, who was Mrs Leigh, and a few minutes later they all moved towards the drawing-room; Leo with Christie, Peter with Mrs Leigh, and Celia with her hand tucked in the crook of Ash's elbow and her blonde hair gleaming close to his shoulder.

It should have been a delightful evening and, in many ways, it was.

All the men were in dinner jackets and white voile or soft pique shirts, except one, a theatrical designer, who was wearing a navy silk polo under an emerald velvet jacket, and Ash. His dinner jacket was white, worn with a dark red silk waistcoat which Christie thought gave him the air of an unusually young commanding officer in tropical mess dress.

The drawing-room at Peacocks had been refurbished during the Regency. It was all white and gold and pale yellow satin. Emily had introduced several comfortable modern sofas in addition to the original ones, and everywhere there were porcelain cache- pots filled with white hyacinths or with charming arrangements of dried and handmade silk flowers.

It was an elegant setting for a gathering of urbane, distinguished-looking men, and stylish women with well-kept figures and good clothes.

Emily, like Christie, was wearing a shirt and skirt, hers being of pale grey crepe-de-chine and cashmere, with a rope of large amber beads, and her red hair caught up in a knot at the back of her head, in a way reminiscent of the fashion when the drawing-room had been redecorated.

Diana Ffarington was in black chiffon, a shirt- dress, With which, having a long neck, she was wearing a Queen Alexandra collar of pearls with the emerald and diamond clasp at the front. Several magnificent rings flashed on her emaciated fingers.

Ash was known to most of the other guests. Before dinner, while everyone sipped dry Madeira and moved about greeting each other and making civilised chit-chat, Christie was asked more than once how he and she had met each other. She deduced that a number of people took her to be the daughter of one of his wealthy charterers.

Two of the women to whom she chatted admired the snake necklet.

She noticed that they, and indeed all the women present, wore antique jewels rather than new ones.