Deceptions (34 page)

'Now the numbers will go up,' Max murmured. 'The contents always do better than the houses themselves. What are you bidding on?'

"Die Meissen vases,' Stephanie said, marveling at the calmness of her voice. In Sabrina's suede skirt and tweed jacket, a cashmere sweater caressing her skin, and the confident bulk of Max Stu3rvesant beside her, she blended with the crowd; she belonged. She turned the pages of her catalogue. 'The Louis XVI tulipwood bureau and the George III side table. Lord and Lady Raddison want the Regency breakfront, but I don't think we'll get it; they won't go above thirty-five hundred.'

'You're buying for Peter and Rose? Did they come on hands and knees, or is this your season for forgiveness?*

Stefttianie frowned. What was he talking about? Had Sabrina quarreled with Peter and Rose Raddison?

'An impudent question,' Max said smoothly. 'Allow me to change the subject. I will be bidding on the three finitwood statues, which means you and I are not opponents. And I am delighted that I found you this morning.'

She nodded, pretending to study the catalogue. She almost had not come. When Nicholas called her at Ambassadors yesterday, offering to pick her up, she had been slow and stupid. 'What auction?'

'My dear Sabrina, the Chilton auction! Amelia called you about it, and, of course, Christie's sent you the catalogue. You must come; how could I venture into the depths of Wiltshire alone?'

She laughed. The blind leading the blind; she had never been in Wiltshire.She'd have to get a map and study it. *Of course, Nicholas; what time do we leave?'

'Eight, I fear. Absurd time, but what can one do?'

She found the catalogue and soon was swept up in its glossy pages, savoring the color photographs as she did whenever she read about items beyond her means. And then in a rush it came to her: she had the means. Ambassadors had a special bank account for auctions - and she had Ambassadors. In their long talk on Monday, Sabrina had told her to draw money for the shop as she needed it. For once she would participate in an auction instead of watching and dreaming like an outsider, or a child standing silently beside her sister as her mother bid.

Sabrina had told her to ask Brian anything about the shop. *We discuss most things and compare notes, so he won't suspect anything if you have questions.' She had hesitated. 'One thing he doesn't know. Don't buy anything from a slick gentleman named Roiy Carr or his firm, Westbridge Imports. Tell Brian, will you? They may be playing around with forgeries; stay away from them until we're sure. Everything else, just ask Brian.*

'Did you have any thoughts,' Stephanie asked Brian, 'about what we might want at the Chilton auction?'

They went through the catalogue together, and Brian suggested Meissen vases, a Louis XVI bureau and a George III side table. 'Yes,' Stephanie agreed. 'Thank you. Would you bring me the auction records?'

She spread the thick books on the table, looking up the prices paid for those items and similar ones in previous auctions. Taking notes, she soon had a list of the highest figures she could bid on each piece and still give Sabrina a profit when she sold them. She felt buoyed up. For the first time since that incredible moment two days ago when Sabrina called to tell her about her broken wrist, she could think of this life as her own.

All day Monday and late into the night she had sat alone in Ambassadors, going through files and catalogues, learning about Sabrina's business and finding books on the shelves to fill gaps in her knowledge of antiques. I don't know half as

much as Sabrina, she thought; but as she read, she found details coming back from studying for her estate sale business. It wasn't a complete failure, she thought wiyly. It was preparation for becoming my sister.

In the stillness of Sabrina's office at midnight, she breathed the mingled odors of furniture polish, dusky velvets and brocades, and the carnations Brian had put on her desk that morning in a crystal vase. She touched the glass, her fingertips tingling. Four weeks. Ambassadors, Cadogan Square, Mrs Thirkell. The shops and ancient streets of London. Theaters, restaurants, dinner parties; the tantalizing fiiendship of Alexandra and Gabrielle. Freedom.

The tingling stopped. She plunged into guilt, feeling as cold and hard as the glass vase. She was a wife and mother; what right did she have to freedom? Responsibilities pulled at her, and attachments. What had happened to them? Why wasn't she lonely, worried, anxious to get back where she belonged?

'Because I have no choice,' she said aloud in the midnight quiet. 'I can't go back. Everything would be destroyed if 1 went back now.'

And you're very unhappy about it, jeered a small inner voice.

No, I'm not, she thought defiantly. I miss the children, but I know they'll be fine; they have Sabrina. 1 would have gone back, but now I've been given the time and I want to fill it with everything I've ever imagined. I'll never have another chance. Is it so terrible to want that? I'll go home soon and pick up the pieces and be everything I'm supposed to be. But not yet. Not yet.

On Tuesday, she gave Brian the list of purchases Sabrina had made in China. The ones checked off are for display in the showroom; the others should be delivered as soon as they arrive to the customers listed on the back. You have addresses for all of them.'

'Yes, my lady. I'll take care of it.*

'And, Brian, I can't find the deposits for September.'

'Oh, my lady, I'm sorry; the ledger is in my desk. Lady Vernon sent her check last week...' He waited. What for?

Some response. Surprise. Lady Vernon, perhaps* was not known for prompt pa3mient.

*E)id she indeed?'

'She did. And this time only six months late.'

*An improvement.'

'Considerably, my lady. It was eight months the last time.'

*If we live long enough, Brian, we may see Lady Vernon pay on time.'

He smiled. *I will have checks ready for you to sign the day after tomorrow, my lady.'

And then Rose Rad

It occurred to Stephanie, sitting beside Max in the auction tent, that she could try to find out what he knew about a quarrel with the Raddisons - he must have heard the story since returning fi'om New York. But she gave up the idea. His secretive eyes and faintly smiling mouth made her feel young and ingenuous, and she knew he could outwit her and get more information than he gave.

The bidding was rapid, and a number of lots had been sold. Stephanie studied the bidders, especially Alexandra, who had made the trip with them at the last minute. She bid gracefully and boldly, without the gesticulations and twitchings of others, but it soon came to Stephanie that the real skill in bidding was to be unobtrusive; to keep others fi'om knowing whom they were up against. Not knowing the wealth of other bidders, they had no idea how high they would have to go and might drop out. She remembered Garth and Nat Goldner talking about poker and smiled to herself. The Chilton auction was a high-class poker game.

When the Louis XVI commode was presented, the auctioneer described its provenance, or history of ownership, and opened the bidding at eighteen hundred pounds. He paused, his face alert, his eyes sweeping the tent. When his glance reached her, Stephanie lifted her chin. Two thousand,' he said.

She felt a surge of triumph. He had understood. 'Any advance on two thousand?' he queried, and his dispassionate voice reeled off higher and higher sums at signals from other

bidders. Then, in a delicate pause, as his glance again met hers. Stephanie touched the pin in her lapel. 'Six thousand/ he said, and added quickly as Stephanie touched it again, 'I beg your pardon; seven thousand.' There was a moment of confusion in the tent, and then two other bids. Stephanie heard the auctioneer's monotone announce 'Eight thousand' and 'Eight thousand five hundred,' and she became angry. She would not be beaten on her first try.

Again the auctioneer scanned the crowd. When he came to her, Stephanie turned her head slightly to the right and then back. 'Nine thousand,' he said, but she was already turning to the left and back. 'Ten thousand.' He waited. There was a buzzing in Stephanie's ears; she was terrified.

'Sold,* said the auctioneer, 'to Lady Longworth for ten thousand pounds.'

The crowd applauded. Stephanie stared at his bland face, too stunned to move. Ten fiiousand pounds. Over twenty thousand dollars. Twice what she earned in a whole year in her job at the university. Sabrina would never forgive her.

'Extraordinary, Lady Longworth,' said Max, his flat gray eyts showing admiration. 'Skillful, subtle and prudent. I hope never to find myself bidding against you.'

She looked at him somberly. If he was making fun of her, everyone would soon know it.

'I should have guessed Sabrina Longworth was bidding,' someone said nearby. 'I saw her pull that trick before: making a bid, then raising herself before anyone else has a chance. Wonderful, how it knocks out other bidders.'

How did I know? Stephanie wondered. She trembled. How did I know?

Max stood. 'Will you have lunch with me?'

Instinctively she turned toward Alexandra and Nicholas, who were standing as the crowd began an exodus firom the tent. 'We can eat together,' Nicholas said. 'Amelia packed enough for all of Wiltshire.'

He brought a picnic hamper from his car and spread the food on one of the dozens of tables set on the lawn with white paper tablecloths and green paper napkins. At a bar run by the owner of the town pub. Max bought ale for the four of

them. They sat on folding chairs eating Amelia Blackford's smoked turkey, chutney, bread and cheese.

'Amelia wanted to come,' Nicholas said between bites, *but she's at the shop. It's amazing, you know, the way she's taken hold there. Like a professional. Never knew she had it in her.' He stood and began to bounce lightly on his feet. 'Sabrina, my dear, I've been thinking. What would you say to a partnership? I don't have enough to do. Once Amelia was unleashed - oh dear, an unfortunate way of putting it, but, in fact, she went considerably further than I anticipated on taking command. The truth is, I have very little to do. But I'm too old, or perhaps too comfortable, to start a new business, and I thought we might collaborate. You could handle interior design; I would manage the business end of Blackford's and Ambassadors.'

No one will take Ambassadors from me, Stephanie thought, and aloud she said flatly, 'No.'

Nicholas' face crumpled, like a child who has been slapped when he expected praise. Alexandra looked surprised and Stephanie's heart sank. Sabrina wouldn't have been so clumsy; she would have handled the offer with grace and friendship.

Max put his hand under her elbow. 'Some clarification is needed, Nicholas,' he said smoothly. 'Sabrina has—'

'Been very rude,' Stephanie said, moving away. She didn't need Max Stuyvesant to cover for her. 'Nicholas, I beg your pardon. My thoughts were elsewhere and I answered too quickly and impolitely. May I think about this for a few days? We can talk about it again later, if you still have kindly thoughts about me—'

'Kindly—! My dear Sabrina, I adore you! Take as long as you wish; I make the offer to no one else. Are we ready to go back in? I think the bidding is about to resume.'

'I'm not ready to sit again,' said Alexandra. 'Sabrina, shall we let the gentlemen find us seats while we explore the grounds?'

Bless you, Stephanie thought, and they walked off across the smooth lawn, wending their way through groups of picnickers packing up lunch hampers and returning their dogs to their automobiles, where they would stay for the rest

of the afternoon, watched over by tuxedoed car attendants. Everyone was dressed in tweeds that blended with the pale green grass and the aged red brick of the house beneath dark oaks, and Stephanie felt she was walking through a muted painting from some distant time. It seemed gentle and beautiful and perfect: a place without anxiety or unhappi-ness. How strange that Sabrina had wanted to get away from it.

Tou all right, honey?' Alexandra asked.

*A little jumpy, for some reason.'

'Delayed reaction from your trip. Maybe you need another one, to recover.'

Stephanie laughed. 'Not for awhile.'

'Where's the Brazilian lover?'

'In Brazil, as far as I know.'

'And Max?'

'What about him?'

*I wondered what you thought about his new look.'

Max. The force of his presence struck her even when he was far off. 'Have you known him long?* she asked absently.

'Honey, come back to earth; you haven't forgotten that famous cruise! If for no other reason than that's where you and I met.'

'You know, I did forget for a minute. Now why would I do that?'

'Well, I hope not for me. I don't mind remembering it. Max has a lot of enemies, I guess, and maybe he deserves them -I don't know and I don't want to know. He and I had fun, we were good to each other, and we're still friends. Anyway, it was a long time ago and we've all changed, so I don't mind remembering.'

They came to the small brick studio where the late owner had worked, and then to a row of garages. 'Lady Longworth!' said a delighted voice, and Stephanie turned to see an impeccably dressed man with silver hair and soft pouches beneath his eyes. He bowed and kissed her hand. 'I was hoping to see you here. You were in China, I understand.'

Stephanie waited for a clue so she could introduce him to Alexandra.

'Were you buying for your fine gallery?'

He had glanced twice at Alexandra. Stephanie was embarrassed and angry; he was not helping at all. She looked at him coldly. *In part.'

'Successfully, I hope,' he said. 'But may I hope, too, that you did not find all the porcelains you neeid? I expect to have some items in a few days that I think will impress you. May I bring them in?'

A salesman. Or a dealer. 'Certainly,' she said, relaxed now because she would have no reason to introduce a salesman to Alexandra. 'I'll be glad to look at them.' She nodded a dismissal and turned with Alexandra to walk on as he made another, smaller bow.

'Do all salesmen dress like French counts?' Alexandra asked.