Deceptions (10 page)

Denton was in bed, keyed up, pleased with her. 'You were smashing; they all loved you. And I won at Trente-et-Quarante; haven't done that for a long time. Come to bed, sweets; I'm waiting.'

He pulled her to him, hastily stroking her body, straining and urgent with the excitement of winning and Sabrina's shining success. 'They'll be talking about us for months,' he murmured with satisfaction as he cjimbed on top of her. He centered himself and plunged in. 'Mmmmm, nice and tight,'

he murmured with the same satisfaction, and closed his eyes.

Sabrina lay beneath him, moving as he liked her to move. He was in a huny, so she knew this time would be like all the others; she was partially aroused and she would end up partially satisfied, rubbed and pounded to numbness. She had tried to ulk to him about their lovemaking, but he had had so many women before her, grateful women, that he considered his technique a subject for applause, not dis-oission. Sabrina thought of telling him that women were grateful because he allowed them to be near - in fact, underneath - the future Viscount Treveston, but she was silent. Because he really believed he wanted to make her happy. *I never enjoy sex unless my woman enjoys it, too,' he told her the first time they were in bed. And he meant it. As he meant it when he said he never enjoyed parties on hunting trips unless his companions and opponents also enjoyed what he had planned for his own pleasure.

And because he was generous when he got his way, and cruelly silent if he was disappointed, almost everyone lied and told him they were happy. Eveiyone fakes something with Denton, Sabrina thought as she deliberately quickened her breathing, tensed her legs for a minute and then grew limp. 'That's my fine girl,' Denton said, his satisfaction intact. And then he plunged deeply and forcefully to achieve the final satisfaction of his day.

When Denton was asleep, she went on deck and let her thoughts float on the cool air. It was four-thirty. The yacht had slowed and was rolling slightly as it sailed west; they were returning to Monte Carlo. Sabrina heard the mufQ^ sound of a boat with its motor cut, and then in the light firom the yacht she saw Max's speedboat, piloted by his secretary, Ivan Lazlo. She watched from the darkness as he and a crew member hoisted it on the yacht, then disappeared down the forward stairs to the crew's quarters. Odd, she thought, this far from shore, where could he have been? She toyed with it a moment, then shrugged. Ivan Lazlo had nothing to do with her. Nothing about Max had anything to do with her; she just wanted the cruise to end. Two more days. She let the

breeze cool her until she was sleepy and then went back to lie beside Denton and fall asleep.

The next day they slept late and had breakfast in bed. Denton kissed her and Sabrina smiled at him, cozy and warm. He smiled back. 'Sweets, I'm going to spend the day with Betsy. You can do what you want, but you ought to spend some time with Aldo Derona. He's interested in you, and he's a pleasant chap—'

She flung herself from the bed, putting space between them. *I am not available for loaning out.'

'Now, sweets, that's a little harsh. You can't be surprised; you've known what was going on. I waited, but you didn't say a word, you adjusted beautifully. I'm proud of you. I hardly think I deserve harsh words/

She was stunned, as helpless as if they spoke different languages. She looked at Denton: he seemed to be speeding backward, away from her, receding to a small figure in the distance. 'Sabrina?' said Denton uncertainly. His amiable eyes were worried as his wife looked at him in icy silence. He held out his hands. 'Sweets, you're getting too excited, as if you think I don't love you. oif course I love you, I always love you.' He waited. 'None of this means anything, you know; it's not important, it's a game, something we do because - well, danm it, because it's different, but actually it's not, you know, you mustn't think it's different or special, it's not, it's no different really from bridge or waterskiing or any of the friendly things we all do together. Oh, thank heavens,' he added, for she had begun to laugh, shaking her head and calling him a fool, but still she was his laughing wife again. 'Waterskiing,' she said. 'Friendly things,' and repeated them, putting her hands to her forehead. And because he was Denton, he did not hear or acknowledge the despair in her laughter.

For the remainder of the cruise Sabrina avoided Denton. She never knew whether he took Betsy to bed or not. Mealtimes were peaceful, and on the last night Max led a toast to Sabrina and Denton's first anniversary, which they would celebrate in America while visiting Sabrina's sister. Denton leaned over and kissed his bride, and Sabrina thought of their being alone finally to Ulk and work everything out.

She put her hand on the back of his head to hold the kiss, and that made it easier to ignore the hngering thought that, after all, they were still playing by Denton's rules.

Chapter 6

Stephanie handed Denton a long, two-pronged fork and asked him to check the meat. He gripped the handle as if it was his golf club and sent a frantic prayer over the heads of the other guests to Sabrina, at the far end of the backyard. But she was talking to some professor, leaving Denton with two slabs of flank steak sizzling contemptuously at him from the Weber grill. How did one check meat? He poked tentatively at the slabs, then a bit harder, gathering courage, and finally plunged the fork through the meat, all the way to the handle.

* Voila!' said Stephanie at his elbow. 'I used to know fencers who had that technique.'

'Have I totally destroyed it? I'll buy more at the market if—'

She laughed. Tou haven't destroyed anything. And you don't have to run away; I won't ask you to work again.'

'It's just that I'm not very good at it, you know.'

'Lack of practice. I'll take care of it, Denton.'

'Well, then, I'll just find my wife.' He wandered off.

Sabrina, glancing up, thought he looked like a tourist badly in need of a toilet, searching for someone who spoke his language. Stephanie was watching him, too; she met Sabrina's eye and they smiled together.

'The differences are cultural, perceptual and situational,' Professor Martin Talvia was saying, sliding the words around his pipe. 'Comparing your features one by one, you and Stephanie are identical. As whole individuals reflecting singular environments, you are quite separate and your being twins teases rather than shocks.'

Sabrina nodded gravely. 'You might say we look different because our lives are different.'

He curved forward like a crane, peering into her eyes, deep blue, shining with honesty or gentle mockery. Of course she was making fim of him but what a delight she was. 'You might say that. But if you were a professor of sociology you would be ashamed to speak so simply.*

She was laughing as Denton came up. He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. 'What's the joke, sweets?'

Sabrina's muscles tightened. The yard was full of people Denton could talk to; why did he hover and clamp her against him whenever she was having a good time? Because he's not happy, she thought, as Martin asked a question about England and Denton answered with the jovial charm that meant he was bored. He's a stranger, and suburban barbecues aren't part of his life. But she was a stranger, too, she reminded herself. She'd Uved in Europe since she was two, and she'd met Stephanie and Garth's friends only briefly when their children were bom. Why was she having a good time?

Because she loved meeting new people, but Denton was always bored away from his own crowd.

* Aunt Sabrina?' She looked down into the small, wise face of four-year-old Clifford Andersen. 'I'm supposed to tell everyone dinner is ready.'

Sabrina bent down. 'An important assignment.'

He nodded seriously. 'That's what Mommy said. But she said to huny, and there are too many people. So would you pick me up, and if I'm tall eveiybody can hear me at the same time.'

Sabrina laughed and lifted him in her arms. 'As practical as your father. Ready?'

He took a deep breath and in a piercing voice shouted, 'Dinner's ready! On the patio!'

At his son's raucous cry. Garth looked up to see Sabrina's vivid laughing face beside Cliffs small one, red with effort and self-importance. It was a pictvu-e he remembered, of Stephanie with Cliff when he was bom.

'Aunt Sabrina, why didn't you let me tell them?' came a wailing ay from the yard, and Penny Andersen flung herself

with the anguish of a disappointed three-year-old on the ground at Sabrina's feet.

'Can't anyone control these children?* Denton asked. Sabrina gave him a swift look and knelt with her arms around Cliff and his sister.

*How would it be if you announce dessert?' she asked Penny. A smile broke through and the little girl nodded vigorously. 'Well, then, I'm starving. Who's going to sit with me at dinner?'

'! am!' they both cried, and led her to the patio.

On the patio and the lawn, small groups sat in nylon-webbed aluminum chairs, eating marinated flank steak, potato salad and thick slices of French bread, and drinking the red wine the guests had contributed. They talked about the coming political conventions that probably would nominate Richard Nixon and Hubert Humphrey, and they discussed their children's schools, crabgrass, food prices and the university, where most of them taught.

Darkness was falling, and Garth lit kerosene lanterns. Dolores Goldner leaned toward Denton. 'Stephanie's told us so much about you both, but not the little things, like what you eat at home or where you shop. We really know so little about royalty.*

'The nobility,' Denton said stiffly.

'Oh, of course. I'm afraid we Americans don't take the class system as seriously as you do.'

'Denton,' Stephanie said hastily. 'Tell us about Treveston, especially the history of your family and the castle.'

'Aunt Sabrina sent me a picture,' Penny said.

'Me, too; I'll get it,' said Cliff and jumped up, knocking his plate off his lap and scattering his dinner to left and right. 'Cliffi' Stephanie called, but he dodged through the door into the house. 'That's not fair!' Penny cried. 'I said it first!' She scrambled to her feet, tripped over Sabrina's foot and ran after her brother.

'Penny!' Stephanie's voice rose sharply, and she clenched her hands.

Sabrina stood. 'Shall I calm them down?'

'It's all right,' Stephanie said. 'I told them they could stay up until after dinner. It is now after dinner as far as they're

concerned. Go on without me; I'll get them started on the long road to bed.*

She was trembling. Sabrina watched her go into the house. 'Excuse me,' she said, and followed her through the kitchen door.

Stephanie was already upstairs, and she waited in the kitchen. It was a wonderful old-fashioned room with a high ceiling, maple cabinets and countertops, and a Delft chandelier suspended over a worn sofa and low coffee table where the children often played. There was a large pantry next to a breakfast room with a round maple table and chairs and a maple comer cabinet filled with dishes. The furniture had been old and scarred when Stephanie bought it and restored each piece to its silken, honey-colored finish. *I wouldn't sit anywhere else,' Sabrina said when she first saw the breakfast room. 'I don't' Stephanie answered. *At least, this is where I sit when I have time to sit.'

Sabrina was standing beside the round table when Stephanie came downstairs. She watched her stop in the kitchen to put something in the refrigerator and thought again, with the surprise she had felt when they arrived the week before, that she was not taking care of herself. She was heavier and had a faded look, the edges of her beauty smudged and dulled. Sabrina, slender and vivid in a red Italian peasant skirt and soft white blouse with fiill pleated sleeves, knew she was outshining her sister, but Stephanie seemed unaware of it. Or unconcerned. In her own home, with family and Mends, what was most important to Stephanie?

'Can we sit for a minute?* Sabrina asked. 'I could easily miss another rendition of Treveston history. I'll tell it toyou if you like.'

Stephanie sat down with a little smile. 'Denton's mother told me at your wedding. I thought Denton would like a chance—*

To have people listen to him.'

'He does like it, doesn't he?'

'He does like it.' They smiled together. Sabrina reached out her hand and Stef^anie clasped it. 'I'm sorxy it took us a whole year to get here. I had a terrible time getting Denton

to give up his international playgrounds for a week in an American suburb.'

'And now that he's here, he's bored.'

'Don't blame yourself, Stephanie. It's not your fault.'

'Garth took him through the lab, but—'

'No, science isn't Denton's thing. He likes other kinds of experiments.' Stephanie looked quizzical at the bitter twist in Sabrina's voice, but Sabrina went on. 'Anyway, being apart isn't as bad as it used to be. Do you feel that? Just knowing we can write or call and understand each other after all those years when it seemed we<:ouidn't—' She gave herself a little shake. 'Tell me about you. Is there anything you haven't told me? About you and Garth? And the kids?'

'Nothing important. I've got what I always wanted, a home and a family. Permanence. When did we ever have that for more than the blink of an eye?' They laughed softly, thinking back. 'Are you all right? I've felt all week that something was wrong.'

*Oh, there was something, on the cruise, and we haven't talked about it yet. Denton overloads the schedule and we never have time to talk. I'll work it out. You were pretty upset just now with the kids.'

'Was I awfully shrill? I wish I didn't get so excited. But Garth works day and night in the lab, and I'm alone with them so much my patience wears out. I didn't want them ruining the party for you.'

'How could they ruin it? I'm having a wonderful time. I teased Martin about his awful academic sentences.*

'They are awful, aren't they?'

'Yes, but funny. I like your friends.'

'I'll trade them for your castle and that yacht you've been on.'

'Stephanie, you don't mean that.'

'No, of course not. I wouldn't know what to do with your life; it's so unreal to me. And I have everything I want. Except money; I do get tired of scrimping. No,' she said quickly, seeing Sabrina's face. 'You can't help us; Garth would be hurt. Anyway the real problem is that he's not here, helping me. But that's not fair; he works so hard and

everything really is fine. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight.'

My red skirt, Sabrina thought; cruises you don't know an3^ng about; my letters to you from fourteen countries in the last year; the issue of Town and Country on your night table that says Denton spends a hundred thousand dollars a year on clothes for each of us and that I spent half a million dollars furnishing our London house.

But she said none of that aloud. Instead, she let Stephanie know that she understood by saying lightly, 'It's the strain of having Denton as a houseguest. He simply can't remember he has no servants at his beck and call. It's in his genes; I think Garth should study him. I made him hang up his towels this morning, and he called me a revolutionaiy out to overthrow the nobility.'

Stephanie smiled. 'Most of the time he's charming. And he takes care of you; you look marvelous.'

'The Mediterranean sun. You could use some.'

'I know. And I should lose weight. Maybe this summer. Is the sun the only reason you look beautiful and glamorous and happy?'

Sabrina looked thoughtfully at their clasped hands. 'Do you know, in the last year I have met about nine thousand people, give or take a thousand, and haven't had a personal conversation with one of them?' Except, oddly enough, she thought, Alexandra, but she couldn't talk about Alexandra or the cruise to anyone, not even Stephanie. She was ashamed of it, as if she were to blame for the guests and their games. 'I'm not used to talking about whether I'm happy.'

'But you aren't talking. You're evading.'

'I know.' She sighed. 'Remember once I told you I couldn't tell the difference between love and excitement with Denton? I still can't. And I have trouble talking about it.* Because you love your husband, she added silently, and you have a place where you belong. And I can't admit that I envy you. I've only been married a year. I have to try harder. Maybe next year will be different. 'But when I'm ready to talk, the best thing in the world is knowing you're here.'

Stephanie's eyes were bright. 'It is the best thing.' She stood up and peered at her image in the darkened window,

combing her hair with her fingers. Time to hostess again» Sabrina/ she said, leaning down to kiss the top of her sister's head. 'I'm glad we're back.'

Voices murmured on the patio; lanterns flickered over shadowed faces, red wine and black coffee, climbing roses and beds of snapdragons. Sabrina felt she was on a quiet island: a loving, relaxed, uncomplicated life. I have to remember it, she thought, until I come home again. And it did not seem at all strange that she called it home.

At midnight, Stephanie saw the last guest out. She came back to the jumble of food and dishes on the patio and shook her head wiyly. 'Does anyone know the magic words for making elves appear?'

'Those are the words,' Sabrina said, 'And we are your elves. Denton and I will clean up.'

At the expression on Denton's face. Garth grinned. 'There sits a terrified man. Don't worry, Denton; you're unskilled labor. I'll do it.'

'Not by yourself.' Sabrina began to stack plates. 'I have to do something useful.'

'You're unskilled, too,' Garth said.

Stephanie stifled a yawn. 'Well, I'm not. I can do it twice as fast as both of you. Anyway, Sabrina's a guest. Everybody go to bed.'

Sabrina kissed Stephanie on the cheek and gently pushed her towards the door. 'You worked all day; Garth and I will finish up. Go on. You can criticize our efficiency tomorrow. If you have the courage.'

Denton watched with calm interest as Sabrina and Garth silently scraped plates and piled them on trays. He stepped lightly forward and kissed Sabrina's forehead. 'I'll wait for you upstairs, sweets.' She nodded, absorbed in stacking cups.

Garth eyed the pile appraisingly. 'Risky.'

She ignored.him and lifted the tray. At the kitchen door the tall stack bulged in the middle and the cups toppled, shattering on the flagstone patio. Sabrina bit her lip and walked into the kitchen to find a broom. Garth followed with his tray of dishes and returned with a dustpan. They swept up the pieces in silence

In the kitchen, Sabrina ran water in the sink. 'I proved your point, didn't I? Unskilled labor.'

'It was an unkind remark. I apologize.'

'Why? You don't approve of me - of either of us, in fact. I've watched your face when we talk about our travels—'

'My fatal flaw. A wide-open face.' He picked up a clean towel. 'Sabrina, it isn't that I don't approve. I don't understand you. Your way of life, the things of your life, what you're looking for. They're so different from mine that I can't make sense of them. That is, no doubt, another flaw in my character.'

Sabrina moved her hands in the warm soapy water, remembering student days in a tiny apartment near the Sorbonne and working days in London before she married Denton. She hadn't washed a dish since then. She and Ganh worked quietly, their voices low. Behind them, the honey-colored kitchen was in shadows and the house was dark and silent. She felt peaceful. 'How do you know so much about our life?' she asked.

'Full reports from Stephanie, describing everything in rich detail. The key word there is rich. Let me askyou something.' He dried a platter with careful attention. 'Is Stephanie unhappy because I spend so much time at the lab, or because I don't give her your kind of life?'

'But she isn't unhappy, you're wrong—*

'I don't think so. Look, I'm asking for help. You know Stephanie better than anyone else. You'd know her real feelings—' He saw her face change. 'I'm not asking you to betray any secrets, you know, I'm her husband. I love her. All right. We'll forget you're her twin. How about this? Pretend you're a scientist looking for explanations. The fact is: Stephanie is unhappy. What's the explanation?'

'Your work.'

He picked up another platter. 'Three in a row. You, Nat Goldner and Marty Talvia. They scold me regularly. I know it's hard on Stephanie; every day I vow to reform. But then the questions pull me back, the mysteries, the fascination—' He stopped. 'Sony; you wouldn't understand.'

Sabrina let it pass. 'You're a lucky man.*

'Because of Stephanie? You don't have to tell me—'

'No. Well, of course because of Stephanie, but I meant -you have good friends who help you know who you are.*

Intrigued, Garth stopped drying. Sabrina gazed unseeingly at the dark window. 'Denton chases himself around the world to find out who he is, and he can't do it. Or even admit he's trying. People fawn over him because he's heir to Treveston, but a lot of them don't like him and he doesn't know why. He's bored a lot and he doesn't know why that is, either. He just escalates his fun. He won't listen to me because when I don't like something he does he says I'm unsympathetic. But if he had friends he might see himself through their tyes, what kind of a person he is, what he wants to do with his hfe. The way you do. That's what close friends do, isn't it? They value you and care about who you are instead of what you are. They help you discover your own worth.'

His face was startled. 'Well said.'

She submerged a frying pan. 'How nice that I've impressed you.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. But how did I know you have a head full of ideas? Your husband doesn't, and in your kind of life—'

'Why do you keep talking about our kind of life? You've already admitted you can't make sense of it. Parts of it are wonderful.'

'And the other parts?'

'Some things we'll change. That happens in any marriage. * Who am I, she thought, to lecture on marriage? 'We won't keep running around the world forever; when we have children we'll stay at home in London. I want to meet different people, and work with art and antiques; I've been asked to help organize a new museum of primitive art ... so many things I want to do. And I want toentertain. You wait; we'll invite you and Stephanie and the kids to a barbecue on our terrace.'

Garth smiled absently. 'Sabrina, I don't think you should count too heavily on Denton's settling down.'

She let the water out of the sink. 'Why not?*

'Because I don't think he can.'

'What are you talking about? You don*t know Denton—*

*I know him better than you think; I've been his host for a week, remember? And the kind of life he makes you lead—'

'Oh. don't be so stuffy!' She stood with her back to the sink and glared at him. How dare he pass judgment on her! He was so solemn - no spark, no fire, and he didn't know how to laugh. He had a wonderful face, strong and sure, with warm deep eyes, but still he was dull. And smug. A smug, narrow-minded professor. 'What makes you think I'm suffering? I have the most wonderful life in the world. You seem to have trouble understanding it, in your sterile laboratory, but to me it's exciting. It has crowds of people and new cities and scenery, parties, dances, different kinds of food, wonderful shops and markets, new clothes, books from all over the world, theaters—'

'Stop! You've convinced me. Sabrina, I admire you. I'm sorry I was stuffy and tried to knock down your castle.'

She gave him a quick look before turning back to wipe the counter. 'But you still don't think Denton is about to settle down.'

Garth folded his arms and leaned against the refrigerator. 'Sabrina, has Denton ever told you he thinks perfecting a life of pleasure is an art?'

•Oh, he talks like that—'

'An art that requires full-time attention, and as much involvement and careful planning as any job. If you pin him down, he'll say it is a job. Few men give up a job for a family. I don't think Denton is one of them. Many men assume their job comes before their families. 1 think Denton is one of them.'

The room was silent, broken only by the soft swish of Sabrina's cloth as she wiped out the sink and then polished the faucet. 'You're wrong.'

'I hope I am.'

He hung up his towels. Sabrina's eyes were dark. These were the doubts she couldn't talk about to Stephanie, doubts she'd thought were locked within her. And now they'd been put into words by the unlikeliest person, one who had never seemed interested in her or Denton.

Garth went into the pantiy to turn out the light. When he

came back she asked, 'Do you mean he might want to give it up but something keeps him from it?' Garth nodded. 'Well, what something is it?'

Td call it passion.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Garth, Denton isn't passionate about anything. ' She caught her breath. Now she'd given that away, too.

'Except his pleasure,' Garth said. 'His way of life. That's his passion. And he's consumed by it. I suppose he could conquer it, but it would be a struggle. Denton doesn't strike me as a man who welcomes struggle.'

'Is that a scientific guess?'

'It's more than that.' His voice roughened. 'I looked at his eyes. There are many kinds of passion, Sabrina, but they recognize each other. Denton's eyes have the same look I see every time I look in my mirror. I knew it as soon as I saw him. Odd, but he's a kindred spirit.*

Sabrina heard the painful honesty in his voice and thought of the guttering fixedness of Denton's eyes that she had tried to call eagerness. She turned her wedding ring on her finger, the circle of diamonds catching the light and throwing it back in flashes of color. 'Thank you,' she said quietly, and smiled. 'I apologize for calling you dull. You're not.'

'You called me stuffy. Dull, too?'

A laugh escaped her. 'If I can't remember my insults, I shouldn't use them. I apologize for all my unkind words. You're not dull and you're not stuffy.'

'And you're not empty-headed or unskilled.*

They laughed.

'Shall I turn out this light?*

Til do it after I lock up. Good night, Sabrina.'

'Goodnight, Garth.'

She walked from the warm kitchen through the dark dining room and living room, feeling her way around the furniture. At the foot of the stairs she turned and looked down the length of the house to the lighted kitchen. His head bent in thought. Garth was at the back door, making his house secure for the night. Then he put his hand to the switch, and, as the room went dark. Sabrina slowly climbed the stairs to go to bed.

In the empty storefront* stripped to its bare walls, Sabrina held open the door as the carpenters carried in stacks of lumber. Her life had been stripped as clean as this empty space she was renting- and I'll build them both up together, she thought, smiling to herself at the idea. Fresh and new after I failed with Denton.

At the back of the shop, where the carpenters had set up their sawhorse, Laura was examining blueprints. Sabrina stood at the front door, watching rain beat down on the high black taxicabs crowding Brompton Road. Three years. That's all we could make it last. And then it took me another year to discover that nothing would ever be the same again.

'My lady,' a carpenter called, his voice echoing off the walls. As Sabrina walked back to him, he drew a chalk line on the dusty floor. 'Is this where you want the door, my lady?'

'That's fine,' she said, and smiled ruefully at her mother. 'I feel like an impostor; it isn't my title any more.'

'Oh, use it,' said Laura. 'It will help you. Even Americans love to roll titles on their tongues. Last month I gave a talk in a high school and someone called me Mrs Madame Under Secretary of State.'

'Much more impressive than mine.*

'But yours is legitimate. Does Denton want you backT

'I don't know. What difference does it make?'

'I thought you might be lonely.'

'Oh.' Sabrina picked up a blueprint and pretended to study it. Of course she was lonely. Lonely and scared. But she'd been that way for a whole year, beginning when she left Denton.

She had moved into a small ground-floor flat, seeing no one except when she was at work in Nicholas Blackford's antique gallery, where she had worked before her marriage. For six months she lived alone, besieged with telephone calls from Denton, his family, her parents, all telling her what a fool she was. Gabrielle called from Paris.