Deceptions (23 page)

straighten out, the truck nicked her back wheel, knocking the bike against the curb. She was flung through the air against a tree, her left hand twisted beneath her head. She heard something snap, heard Garth call her name, and then the golden day went black.

In the darkness of pain and shock, Sabrina caught a word, a question, a ciy. She tried to tell everything to slow down and wait for her, but the pieces rushed past. Garth was holding her, whispering her name - not her name, her sister's, but she was shivering and couldn't tell him he had the wrong name. Strangers were telling Garth to wait in the other room - but she needed him; didn't they know that? She was lying on a cot, rolling along a smooth floor; then someone moved her left wrist and a stab of pain wrenched her whole body. 'Don't!' she cried.

'Only be a minute, Stephanie; just hold on.'

Nat Goldner's voice, then his smiling face. Blinding lights, her arm strapped down below a square black box. X rays. But Nat had her name wrong, just as Garth had. 'Wait.' It came out in a whisper. Shivering, she cleared her throat. 'Have to tell you—'

'Hold on, my dear,' said Nat. 'Better if you don't talk; just relax.' She felt a needle in her right arm, and in a minute the shivering eased. And then she was too drowsy to worry about what they said.

'Mild concussion,' Nat was saying to Garth when Sabrina began to pay attention again. She was on a cot in a small cubicle enclosed in light green curtains. And her left arm felt peculiar. She reached over with her right hand and touched a plaster cast. 'Awake?' asked Nat. He and Garth looked down at her, Nat smiling. Garth's cyts dark with worry. Where were the children?

'Penny... Cliff,' she said through dry lips.

'In the waiting room,' said Nat. 'I've told them you're fine. You can see them in a minute. In fact, you can go home soon if you follow orders. Here, drink this.'

He put an arm beneath her shoulders and eased her up so she could drink. She had a terrible headache. 'Now listen, Stephanie, I've told Garth what you need to do—*

'Wait.' Why did they keep calling her by her sister's name?

'Just listen. You've got a fractured wrist and a mild concussion. No permanent damage; not even a scar. Now I've told this to Garth, but I'll tell you, too; take it easy for a few days. No work - office or home; let your family cook and clean house. You can shower if you keep the cast diy; wrap it in a plastic bag. Talk as little as possible for the next twenty-four hours. Drink six glasses of water a day and snack between meals. There's no medical reason for that, but it'll give you something to think about besides your headache. Which should be much better by tomorrow night. We'll X-ray the wrist again in four weeks; if it's mended we'll take the cast off then. Any questions?'

'Why do you call me Stephanie?'

'Because I've always called you Stephanie. Should I call you Mrs Andersen just because you're my patient? I'll give you a few tranquilizers, enough for a week. You'll be all right; maybe disoriented for awhile, but nothing serious. Don't worry. Now rest for a few minutes. We'll be right back.'

She lay quietly, looking at the cracks in the ceiling. Mrs Andersen. Stephanie. Garth. She raised her head and looked at the blue jeans and shirt she was wearing.

Stephanie's.

Stephanie in London. Without a broken wrist.

Oh, my God, I've got to call Stephanie,

Chapter 11

When Stephanie's plane landed at Heathrow Airport and she took a taxi to Cadogan Square, it was almost ten o'clock at night. For sixteen hours she had traveled across continents and time zones while her imagination spun into a whirlwimd aroimd the week ahead, and by the time she moved through customs and settled into a taxi, she was in a trance of exhaustion. Resting her head against the seat, she watched

the lights flashing past. She had seen them from the air: a sprawling mosaic that filled her vision as the plane came in to land. Now she saw them separately: shops, lampposts, the windows of apartments. The lights of London.

She had been here the year before, visiting her sister. Sabrina had met her plane and taken her to Cadogan Square, where she had unlocked the door of her wonderful house and welcomed Stephanie inside. Now, in the dark taxi, Stephanie opened the soft leather purse in her lap and took out a set of keys. This time she was not a visitor. This time she would unlock the door. This time she was going home.

But the door swimg open just as she reached it. 'Welcome home, my lady!' Mrs Thirkell beamed. 'You have been missed!' She had coins ready and tipped the cabbie before picking up the luggage he had dropped inside the door. 'You'll find a small repast in the dining room; I made your favorite trifle, and a few other dishes to tempt you, though I'm sure you don't need tempting after all that foreign food. You must be starved for home cooking. I was sure you'd be skin and bones, but I must admit you do look fine. Oh, my lady, I am glad you're back. Will you go up first, or straight to the dining room?'

My lady. Through her exhaustion, Stephanie thrilled to it and what it meant. A house organized around her comfort, everything taken care of, everything in order. But she was so tired. Tomorrow she would be able to appreciate it.

'I'll go up,' she said. 'I'm really too tired to eat.' She began to wish Mrs Thirkell good night, but stopped at the stricken look on her face. She saw in it the hours of preparation that had gone into her 'small repast,' her affection for Sabrina, her happy anticipation of seeing my lady's gratitude for good English food after wandering in foreign lands. Stephanie had never had a maid or a housekeeper. Sabrina would have known inmiediately that Mrs Thirkell's beaming face was more important than her own exhaustion.

'On second thought,* she said softly, turning toward the dining room, 'the trifle sounds wonderful. The Chinese have nothing to compare with it. I'll have something now, Mrs Thirkell, and then perhaps tomorrow momingyou'll indulge me with breakfast in my room.'

'Oh, my lady, exactly what I planned. You go ahead now; everything is ready for you. I'll just take these bags upstairs.'

The jelly and the custard of the trifle drifted through her dreams that night, between Nicholas Blackford's pastries scattered on a Shanghai street and the roast she had cooked for her family the night before she left for China. Above the food floated Mrs Thirkell's rosy smile, surrounded by the bright lights of London and the bronze door knocker, shaped like a hand holding a scroll, that led the way into Sabrina's house.

The images clung to Stephanie's memory, so that when she awoke in the morning she knew instantly where she was. She woke slowly, stretching like a cat between smooth sheets of Egyptian cotton as fine as silk. She had not been able to find any nightgowns when she undressed the night before and now, with the cool sheets caressing her skin, she was aware of her nude body as if for the first time. She stretched again and at last opened her eyes.

The bedroom was large and L-shaped, the walls covered in striped silk of pale blue and ivory, a peacock-blue carpet on the floor. The high Louis XIV bed and night tables were in the small part of the room; a sitting room took up the large part, with a love seat and chaise before the fireplace, two French bureaux along one wall and a matching dressing table nearby. A round table with a floor-length damask cloth and two upholstered chairs were placed beside high windows overlooking the walled backyard and terrace four floors below. It was an exquisite room, at once soft and vivid, spacious and snug.

Stephanie walked nude about the room, surprising herself. How easy it was, how fi-ee and confident she felt. Brushing her fingers across silks and polished woods, the marble fireplace and velvet chaise, she came to the tall mirror beside the dressing table and stood on tiptoe before it, spreading her arms wide. 'My lady,' she said to her reflection, and smiled at the brightness in her eyes.

Excitement was spreading through her like a flower opening wide. She looked about the luxurious room and listened to the silence. No one was calling for breakfast to be

made or a button to be sewed on; no dirty clothes were piled up behind doors, waiting to be washed; the office staff did not expect her. She was alone. She was free. She was Lady Sabrina Longworth.

She rang for Mrs Thirkell and asked for breakfast in half an hour. What time was it? It didn't matter.

In the carpeted bath and dressing room, she turned on the shower and stepped into the triangular pale yellow tub bordered on one side by trailing green plants and on the other by a recessed shelf of oils, soaps, brushes and shampoos. Debating among the unfamiliar names, she chose one at random. As the perfumed steam swirled around her, she thought with a sigh of pleasure that she had a week to tiy them all.

But suddenly, as she sat at the small table in the window, wearing a flowered silk robe, her hair drying in the sun, watching Mrs Thirkell arrange the breakfast dishes and morning newspaper before her, everything changed - as if a door had been opened, letting an icy wind cut through the cozy room.

'What will you be wanting this week, my lady?' Mrs Thirkell was asking. 'I'll arrange to have Doris come in if you'll be entertaining, and I think Frank should give us an extra day; that was a halfhearted job he did on the windows last time. Princess Alexandra called last night after you'd gone to sleep; she said she would call back today unless you care to call her. I'll be going to the market this morning, so if you will tell me your plans ...'

Stephanie looked out the window, feeling helpless. She wasn't Sabrina Longworth; how could she pretend to be? Mrs Thirkell knew more about this kind of life than she did. She had none of her sister's sophistication and confidence with servants; she was ill at ease in the world of wealth. She was exactly what she had called herself in Mr Su's antique shop; a suburban housewife. About to make a laughingstock of both herself and her sister.

Mrs Thirkell was waiting for instructions. Stephanie shivered in the icy wind that had shattered her excitement. There was nothing she could do with her week of freedom but

hide in the house, where no one could see her and point a scornful finger.

'My lady, are you ill? Shall I close the window?'

'No.' Stephanie shook herself. 'It's all right, Mrs Thirkell; the air is warm. But I think I did catch something in China - maybe an Oriental flu - so I'll be staying in for a few days. And no entertaining. I'll leave the shopping up to you; the usual things.'

Worried lines creased Mrs Thirkell's forehead. 'Dr Farr could come over this morning, my lady—'

'No, no ... I'll call if I don't get better. But I'm sure I'll be fine. In a few days, a week, I'll be back to normal.'

'And you won't be going to Ambassadors, my lady?'

*Not for a few days.'

'Well, then, if you have everything you need—'

'Yes, thank you, Mrs Thirkell; this all looks lovely.'

'Then I'll leave you with your breakfast. Though it's probably cold by now; I can warm it up in a minute—'

'Mrs Thirkell. Everything is fine.'

*A11 right, my lady. If you say so. I'll be going then.'

Stephanie picked up her spoon. If she had to be imprisoned, what more comfortable place, complete with a mother? Who feeds the prisoner well, she thought wryly as she ate sliced melon and strawberries. The coddled eggs and croissants were cool, but she was so hungry that she ate everything. By the time she finished the tea, still hot in its insulated server, she felt better. I can go sight-seeing, she thought. That would be safe.

But first there were the closets, and the two bureaus. The night before, she'd had a glimpse at the clothes inside them, a whiff of scent clinging to soft fabrics. She planned to try on a few each day, over the whole week, but once she began she could not stop. It was hke having fi'ee run of a designer shop: silk and lace underthings, cashmere sweaters and silk blouses, suits, dresses, evening gowns, shoes and shawls. And jewelry, tucked into a velvet-lined Russian chest.

She was trying on a dinner dress when, once again, without warning, her mood changed. The dress was of Hlac silk, closely following her body from narrow shoulder straps to a flaring hem at her ankles. Holding the matching jacket

trimmed in purple braid, Stephanie walked to the mirror and looked at her reflection.

Sabrina gazed back at her.

How had it happened? She stood with Sabrina's regal poise, balanced lightly on her feet, head high, eyes bright, hps curved expectantly. Slipping her feet into wisps of black high-heeled shoes and holding the jacket over her shoulder with one finger, she tilted her head, smiled exultantly and made a deep curtsy to Lady Sabrina Longworth.

There is nothing, she thought, that I cannot do.

Filled with energy, she looked at the checklist Sabrina had written and called Ambassadors. 'I'll be in to check the mail. Brian, but not much more; I'm a bit under the weather, and if there's nothing urgent, I'll stay home for a few days. What day would you like to take off?'

'Thursday, my lady, if that is satisfactory.'

'Perfectly.'

She listened to her voice. Smooth and controlled. She had never had an employee; never learned to talk to one. But to Brian it was a voice he knew. And on Thursday she would go in to check Sabrina's mail.

Mrs Thirkell returned, fiill of worry, and found Stephanie emptying one purse and filling another. 'I'm going to take a walk, Mrs Thirkell. Your wonderful breakfast almost cured me. I'll want a quiet week, however, so you can expect me for dinner every night. Do you see my watch anywhere? I can't seem to find it.'

'Wouldn't you have put it in its regular place, my lady?*

Stephanie paused. 'I have no idea. I was so tired last night I hardly knew my own name. I remember that excellent trifle, but—'

'And here it is' said Mrs Thirkell triumphantly. * You may have been tired, but you put it exactly where it belongs.*

Stephanie looked at the watch nestled in a small lucite box on the dressing table. 'Amazing,' she murmured.

•Well, there,' said Mrs Thirkell comfortably. 'Habit does wonderful things for us. Here you are, my lady.'