Egyptian Honeymoon (19 page)

The night of the party was clear and without fog, presenting no traffic problems. The original invitation list had been enlarged to include some of the more distinguished neighbours, including a Member of Parliament and a Lord and Lady Falconbridge who had an estate in Buckinghamshire. Lord Falconbridge was chairman of one of Steve's companies. Her husband had briefed Noelle beforehand as to the status and characteristics of each guest, but when faced with the whole horde of them, she had difficulty in labelling them. Lady Falconbridge was identifiable at once, a thin domineering woman whose strident voice was audible all over the room. Steve moved among them, distinguished in his evening clothes, and though his subordinates had been chosen for force and drive, he was unmistakably the boss man as Simon had called him. Moreover, he was the best-looking man there, his figure still slim, whereas many of his contemporaries were putting on weight, and Noelle noticed how the eyes of the female guests followed him. All of them were stylish, well-groomed women, even the more matronly ones, but they did not intimidate her. They were types with which she was familiar, having seen many of them literally undressed in the trying-on cubicles of Forbes Fashions or very similar ones. Several recognised her from her modelling days, and she was amused to notice their slight embarrassment, wondering if they should betray their previous knowledge of her. She soon settled that query for them, being unashamed of her origins.

'We've met before, Mrs So-and-so, at the 19— collection, I believe it was.'

That started a conversation about clothes and all stiffness vanished. She overheard one woman say to her husband:

'She was the loveliest mannequin I've ever seen. I'm not surprised Steve married her.'

Aperitifs consumed, they went in to dinner. Noelle sat at one end of the polished table, divided from her husband by all its gleaming length; she could not even see him for the floral arrangement in its centre.

The table looked very impressive, with lace place, mats, silver cutlery and the array of cut glass wine glasses beside each plate. The dinner, from the stuffed avocados to the rum babas and Stilton cheese, was perfection. Andre had excelled himself. Ilse and another girl in smart black uniforms with little muslin aprons and caps waited on them, having been carefully rehearsed by Mrs Ingram.

The room was panelled in dark wood from floor to ceiling, and as had been suggested, Noelle's silver-gilt hair shone against the sombre background, as also did her ivory dress and snowy neck and shoulders. With Steve's diamonds around her neck, she was a beautiful picture in a dark frame, as her guests noticed, the men with admiration, the women with envy. She had on her right hand a Mr Thomas Adams; managing director of the new Midland venture, a man of about forty with grey hair and a hard impassive face. He had little conversation and his interest was mainly concentrated on his food. On her other side was a much younger man, a rowing enthusiast, who insisted she must join a rowing club.

'But I don't row,' Noelle objected.

'That doesn't matter, the social side is quite amusing—dances and all that. Were you at Henley?'

Since regatta week had been before her marriage, she told him she had not been in the vicinity, and he insisted she must make a point of going next year… next year, would she still be at Forest Lodge, she wondered, living in semi-isolation? Perhaps she had better join a club of some sort, but she was not enthusiastic. Pickles had been banished from the scene, his manners being too exuberant to permit of a public appearance.

Lady Falconbridge from the other end of the table was holding forth to the woman opposite to her, her high voice rising above the general conversation.

'Maternal instinct be damned! I've never suffered from it, I don't believe civilised women do.'

'But you've got lovely twin boys,' someone said.

'Yes, wasn't I lucky? Heir apparent and heir presumptive both at one go, now I need never miss another hunting season.'

Noelle caught the flash of contempt on Ilse's face as the maid offered her a dish of sauté potatoes, to be instantly replaced by the impassivity demanded of a waitress. The German girl was a better woman than the titled lady. She heard Steve's satirical comment:

'And of course with a good nannie and prep schools lined up you won't have to bother further with them.'

'No, thank God.'

Didn't she love her children, Noelle thought, and was Steve equally coldhearted? How she would love to have twin boys, but there did not seem to be any chance of that the way she was living.

The dessert having been served and eaten, she remembered it was up to her to give the signal to leave the table. With a smile at her nearest neighbours, she rose to her feet.

'Coffee will be served in the drawing-room, shall we go?'

Though the convention of leaving the men to their port was no longer observed, Steve called to several of his special cronies to remain with him at the table, as Noelle led the way into the other room. Some of the guests wanted to play cards, others seemed content to sit and smoke in replete somnolence, and listen to the stereogram. Noelle found the room close and oppressive, for the weather had turned unreasonably mild. She wondered if she would be missed if she slipped upstairs to get an aspirin, because her head was aching. Deciding to chance it, she unobtrusively left the room, and nobody seemed to notice her departure. She ran upstairs and was assailed by a sudden giddiness so that she had to clutch at her bedroom door handle for support.

Mrs Ingram was making a final check that the guest-rooms had towels and soap and saw her leaning against the door and hurried to her side.

'You aren't well, madam?'

'Just a little dizzy, it's so hot in the drawing-room.'

The housekeeper opened the bedroom door and gently pushed her inside.

'Sit you down. You've let this party get on top of you. You worry too much, madam.'

Pickles was on the bed, he always took refuge there when Noelle was absent. He growled at the housekeeper, then leaped down and fawned at Noelle's feet as she sank into a chair.

'That dratted dog,' Mrs Ingram exclaimed, 'messing up your eiderdown!'

'It can be cleaned.' Noelle caressed the dog's head. 'No, Pickles, mind my dress. Could you get me an aspirin, Mrs Ingram, they're in the drawer of the bedside table, and a glass of water.'

Mrs Ingram complied. 'You wouldn't like something stronger? A drop of brandy? I can soon fetch it.'

'No, thank you. I'll be all right in a minute, and I must go back. My husband won't be pleased if I'm not there to see the guests off.'

'They'll not be going just yet.' She looked with concern at Noelle's pale face. 'You don't think you could be expecting, madam?'

Noelle stared at her. 'You mean… pregnant?'

'Could be. Often makes you feel poorly to begin with.'

'Oh no, I'm sure…' She broke off. It could be. She had tried to forget that devastating night, since it was not something she wished to dwell upon, but nature, that unconscious humorist, had achieved her purpose and it might have borne fruit.

'Might I suggest you see your doctor?' said Mrs Ingram.

'But… but it's much too soon…'

'They can take tests, you know.'

'Oh yes… I'll make an appointment.'

How would Steve react? She still did not know if he wanted a family. She recalled the conversation at the dinner table, nannies and prep schools, but she would tend her child herself, whatever Steve said. She drew a long breath. If he had given her a baby it would make up for everything.

'You'll need to look after yourself, madam,' Mrs Ingram warned her. 'You don't look all that strong.' Then her natural feelings overcame her. 'Eh, but it'll be grand to have a little one in the house, and the master, he'll be that pleased.'

Noelle was not sure about that. 'Please don't tell him,' she said quickly, then seeing the woman's shocked face, 'I… I mean, until it's confirmed. He might be disappointed if it's a false alarm,'

'Yes, perhaps you're right,' Mrs Ingram agreed reluctantly. A puzzled crease appeared between her brows. She had expected that Noelle would be eager to share her hope with her husband, and that he would accompany her to the doctor, instead of which she looked as though she didn't want to confide in him. But their relationship was not all it should be, for Steve continued to occupy a separate bedroom. He said his comings and goings were so erratic, he preferred not to disturb his wife with his odd hours—a flimsy excuse. She looked at Noelle darkly; was it possible the child was not his and that was why they were estranged? Or had he had to marry her because she had conceived?

Naturally quite unaware of her housekeeper's unwarranted suspicions, Noelle stood up.

'I must go back. Ask Ilse to put Pickles out for his last run.' Ilse was the only member of the staff the dog tolerated.

'Yes, madam, but hadn't you better go to bed? I'll make your excuses.'

'Oh, no, no!' She could not fail Steve on this her first public appearance, so to speak, though she looked longingly at the wide bed. She had to escort the ladies who were staying to their rooms and make sure they had all they wanted, and bid those who were departing farewell.

As she descended the stairs, she saw Steve standing at the foot of them, waiting for her. She had an urge to run to him and blurt out her suspicion, but he was watching her with a forbidding frown, and the impulse died.

'Where have you been?' he demanded. 'The Falconbridges are leaving and want to say goodbye.'

'I'm sorry,' she said mechanically. 'I went to get an aspirin.'

He looked at her keenly. 'Anything wrong?'

She was level with him now. The top of her head just reached his chin. How handsome he was—those fine aquiline features, the proud way he carried himself, but how remote. She found she could not raise her head to meet his eyes.

'Oh no, just the beginning of a headache.'

'You're pale as a ghost.'

'It's the dress. You wanted me to wear white, it… it seems to absorb my colours.'

She did not realise what an utter contrast she was presenting to the laughing, vivid girl he had surprised with Simon by the river. Not only was she pale, but there were shadows beneath her eyes. She saw the frown return and thought he was impatient with her for her delay; she hastened into the drawing room to speed the departing guests. She felt that by conceiving she had committed an indiscretion, and it would be an impertinence to tell this aloof stranger he was going to become a father, but Mrs Ingram's supposition might be incorrect, and there was no point in getting worked up until she had verification.

Most of those guests who had stayed overnight had breakfast in their rooms, but Noelle thought she had better put in an appearance in the dining room. Steve was there, Mr and Mrs Adams and another couple. Her husband greeted her perfunctorily, and gave her a penetrating look. She did not want any food, as she was feeling queasy—another sign, she thought as she played with a piece of toast. She hoped that when the last visitors had gone, he would give her a word of praise for the night's entertainment, for she had done her best to please him, or would he take it all for granted?

'You're not eating anything,' he said brusquely. She thought he looked tired and he seemed irritable. Could he suspect?

'I never eat much breakfast,' she reminded him.

Mrs Adams looked at her enviously.

'You don't have to worry about your figure.'

'She's too thin,' Steve commented, as if she deliberately starved herself to annoy him. The look he gave her was almost inimical.

Emma Adams told her: 'I expect Steve has told you we're flying over to Holland tomorrow. Why don't you come too?'

Noelle glanced reproachfully at her husband. It was the first she had heard of it.

'It was a sudden decision,' Steve explained. 'We're angling for a Dutch contract. I'm going back with Adams tonight, as we have to make an early start.'

'I can easily put you both up,' Emma offered. 'And you'd like den Haag. The men will be busy, of course, but I'll show you round.'

Before Noelle could reply, Steve cut in.

'That's very good of you, Emma, but Noelle hasn't got over her Egyptian trip yet. Perhaps another time.'

Obviously he did not want her to go with him, perhaps he feared complications over sleeping arrangements. Could passion revolt from what it had once desired? It was a painful thought that that might have happened with him.

'How long will you be gone?' Noelle asked, thinking of what she might have to tell him.

'Until Wednesday night.' He handed her a card. 'That's where I'll be staying if any emergency arises.'

She looked a little blankly at the piece of pasteboard. She would have liked very much to have gone, but she could hardly say so in the face of his refusal.

'You've packed?'

He had. He always did it himself, scorning to employ a valet. Mrs Ingram looked after his wardrobe; when she had suggested it should be Noelle's chore, he had said the arrangement had worked very efficiently and saw no reason to change it, so she, the wife, was barred from such intimate service, and she was too shy to assert herself.

Noelle waited to say goodbye in the hall while they went to collect their overnight cases. Steve was the first one to return.

As he came downstairs she noticed he was looking drawn, even haggard, there were lines on his face there had never been before, and she cried impulsively:

'You're wearing yourself out. Must you go, can't Mr Adams manage without you so you can have a rest?'

'Good God, I can't find any rest here,' he exclaimed savagely. 'Work is my salvation.'

This outburst bewildered and wounded her. What was wrong with Forest Lodge that he could not relax there? It was quiet and peaceful. She could only surmise that his restless nature could not endure peace and quiet, yet he looked in need of both.

'Oh, Steve…' she began, but he interrupted her.

'Sorry about that, but I'm a bit on edge.' He passed his hand wearily across his brow. 'I have to make a very important decision, and it's causing me some sleepless nights.'