Quest for Alexis (4 page)

* * * *

The plane descended out of the murky sky and
landed at London Airport a frustrating two hours late.
There was no snow here, not even the threat of it. The
air was raw as only English air can be, laden with a
cold penetrating dampness. I was in no mood to waste
time on airport buses and trains. Extravagantly, I
hired a car to take me all the way to Deer’s Leap.

There was a sad, lost look of winter upon the coun
tryside, a veil of creeping mist dimming the starkness
of bare fields. It didn’t help my feeling of desolation.

At last we left the main roads behind and slipped
through the deserted Sussex lanes, high-banked with crumbly sandstone. Leafless oak and elm trees arched
overhead.

“It’s just along here on the right,” I told the driver as
we crested the last rise. “You’ll see the gateposts in a
second.”

He braked and swung between the tall stone pillars,
each capped with a delicately sculpted leaping deer. Gravel crunched wetly under the tires as we swept up
the drive, and the sodden rhododendron bushes rose
on either side, dark and impenetrable.

There were already a couple of cars on the fore
court, drawn up by the Gothic-arched porch that was
the main entrance, the entrance used by the Warren
ders. The house was L-shaped, and the west wing
formed the leg, with its own front door. I told the driver
to stop there. The moment I had paid him he shot off
again, leaving me standing beside my cases. I lingered for a few moments, staring up at Deer’s Leap.

Every outline, every feature, was blurred by the
clammy mist. The pointed gables and twisted chimney stacks, the tall mullioned windows with their diamond leaded panes. Where it showed behind the clinging ivy,
the time-worn stonework was dark with damp. But
even like this, at its most uninviting, I still loved the
old house.

Picking up my cases, I turned toward the door. Just
as I got there it opened and a stranger came out. Rudi
was right behind him, standing in the doorway. His
eyes flashed me a warning look.

“Ah ... good afternoon,” he greeted me in a formal
voice. “I heard the car arriving. I’ll be with you in just
a moment.” He returned his attention to the man. “I’m
sorry I can’t give you any further information, but
there it is.”

The man, huddled in a short tweed overcoat,
nodded to Rudi, flicked me a casual glance, and
walked off toward one of the cars. We went inside and Rudi closed the door behind us.

“I’m sorry to have sounded so unwelcoming, Gail.
But that was a reporter and I didn’t want him to guess
who you were.”

A shiver ran through me. “A reporter? Have they
discovered anything, Rudi? Is there any news?”

His deep-set dark eyes, usually so alive when they
looked at me, were clouded with distress.

“So you haven’t seen a newspaper since you
landed?”

“No, I didn’t stop to ...” My heart began to thud,
and I felt suddenly queasy. “Rudi, what is it?”

He hesitated, then said reluctantly. “The news came through this morning. Alexis has been seen, Gail.”

“Seen? What does that mean? Where has he been
seen?”

“In Majorca. Alexis is in Majorca, staying at some
luxury hotel. Belle Forsyth is with him.”

My first reaction was blind fury. Why did people sug
gest such foul things, even people I was fond of? Hugo
could be forgiven, he didn’t know Alexis. But there
was no excuse for Rudi. He had worked with Alexis for the past two years and more than any other man
alive had reason to understand the depth of my uncle’s
idealism, his burning sincerity.

I said fiercely, “You know that isn’t true. You know
Alexis has never even looked at another woman, let
alone...”

Rudi made a hopeless little gesture with his hands. “Do you think it pleases me to say it, Gail? I’m only
passing on what was reported on the radio.”

“You really believe this story, don’t you?” I said,
staring at him incredulously.

Rudi took me by the shoulders, holding me gently. “Gail, my dear
...
I feel torn apart by this news. Shat
tered. But I have to believe it.”

“Just on the strength of a garbled story by a news
paper reporter who was trying to impress his editor?”

“It was an official news-agency report,” he said in a
quiet, flat voice. “And it was quoted as fact by the
BBC. There is the car, too. It has been found aban
doned at London Airport. I’ve arranged to have it
brought home.”

I was stabbed with sudden fear. “What about Mad
eleine? Have you said anything to her about this?”

“No, she still knows nothing. When I told Sir Ralph and Lady Caterina that you were coming home, they agreed it was best to leave it to you to decide what
Madeleine was to be told.”

I nodded. “How have
they
taken the news?”

“Well, of course
...
Sir Ralph is very kind, but it’s
been a terrible shock to him.”

“You mean he believes it, too?” I said bleakly.

Rudi didn’t answer, but just looked at me with sad
ness in his eyes.

So far I’d given no thought to the Warrenders and
the effect on them. Inevitably, as the owners of Deer’s
Leap, they were caught up in this sudden blaze of publicity, and I knew how much Sir Ralph must be
hating it. He had very rigid views about what was right
and what was wrong, and he disliked scandal of any
kind. Besides, as the man who had helped Alexis after
his escape from Czechoslovakia, Sir Ralph would feel himself betrayed—if this horrible story were true.

Somehow, I had to make them understand that it
wasn’t
true. That it
couldn’t
be true.

“I’d better go through and see Sir Ralph and Cate
rina right away,” I said. “I’ve got to talk to them.”

“Wait!” Rudi glanced at his wrist watch. “There’s
another news bulletin due in a couple of minutes. You
ought to hear it.”

I slipped out of my coat and dropped it on a chair
before following him into the Oak Room, which Alexis
used as his study. Like the hall, it seemed dismal in the
failing afternoon light, the linenfold paneling lacking
its usual warm polished gleam. The room was small,
workmanlike, one wall lined with bookshelves. On the
library desk Rudi had left a transistor radio. He
switched it on, and the burst of pop music sounded
incongruous in these surroundings. There was a time check, and then the smooth, unemotional voice of the BBC newscaster. The item about Alexis came fourth, after a bank holdup in Edinburgh.

Dr. Alexis Karel, about whom there has been some anxiety since he was reported missing from his Sussex
home, has now been found to be safe and well at a
fashionable hotel in Palma, Majorca.
Listeners were re
minded that Dr. Karel was shortly to publish an im
portant new book,
Czechoslovakia in Chains,
for
which it was understood he had received a large sum
for newspaper serialization in England and America.
Almost as an afterthought it was added that Miss Belle
Forsyth, who had been employed by Dr. Karel as his
invalid wife’s nurse and companion, was staying at the
same hotel.

Rudi reached out and switched off the radio. I felt
too sickened to speak, and into the unhappy silence
the telephone rang, a sudden jarring noise.

“It’s sure to be another newspaper,” said Rudi.
“They haven’t left us alone.”

“Oh ... will you answer it, then? I’ll go and see the
Warrenders.” I hesitated. “Is ... is Brett at home?”

“No, he’s not there now. He went back to London
yesterday.” Picking up the phone, Rudi looked at me
sadly, and I realized that he had misinterpreted my
question. He believed that I was turning to Brett for
help—not that I wanted above everything to avoid him.
But somehow I couldn’t bring myself to explain.

I went through the doorway that separated the west
wing from the main part of the house with a feeling of
apprehension. What was my reception going to be?

I hesitated in the staircase hall. It was quiet and dim
there, little light piercing the tall oriel window on this
dark winter afternoon. The great Elizabethan stairs
turned upward into shadow.

A studded door beside the stairway opened, and the
Warrenders’ maid appeared, wheeling a tea cart. She
gave me her usual bright smile, then her face sobered.

“Hello, Miss Fleming. I heard you were coming.”

“Hello, Jenny. Are Sir Ralph and Lady Caterina
alone?”

“Yes, I’m just taking in their tea.”

She went to the door of the Ivory Room, obviously
expecting me to follow her in. But I hung back ner
vously.

“Jenny, tell them I’m here first, will you?”

“Yes, if you like.”

A moment later I heard Caterina’s exclamation, and
she came hastening out to me. She was a generously
built woman, an opera singer in the old tradition, yet as
light on her feet as a dancer. Caterina was given to wearing long flowing garments in gorgeous fabrics,
which invested her with regal dignity. Today, she was neck to ankles in a crimson velvet caftan.

“Gail, my poor little one—what a terrible, terrible
business this is.” Impulsively, she hugged me and
kissed my cheek, then drew me after her into the room,
still voluble. “We’ve been so concerned, so worried....
Jenny, fetch another cup, please. Ralph, my darling,
here she is, our poor dear Gail.”

Her husband was standing before the hearth, with its
superb ivory overmantel. He was a tall man with neatly
parted iron-gray hair. In retirement, since his blind
ness, Sir Ralph had grown thinner, but he still held
himself with an upright bearing. He stretched out his
hand for me to take, but his welcome noticeably
lacked the warmth of Caterina’s.

“Good afternoon, Gail. You wasted no time coming
back to England.”

“I felt I had to come at once, Sir Ralph—for Mad
eleine’s sake.”

“Yes, poor soul. It’s going to be an appalling shock
to her, but she will have to know the truth.”

The truth? He was taking it for granted that Alexis
had cut loose from his responsibilities like a man with
out honor or principle. Even Caterina accepted it as a fact. For all her charm, for all her sincere concern for me, I could read the message in her large dark eyes.
Alexis stood condemned.

I said quietly, stubbornly. “We can’t be certain what
the truth is, Sir Ralph. There must be some explana
tion. I know my uncle.”

“I thought I knew him too, my dear. And so did a
great many other people—tens of millions of them who
admired and trusted and looked up to him.” Sir Ralph
sighed heavily. “It’s bad enough in all conscience for
any man to desert his wife and go off with some other
woman. But for a man in Alexis Karel’s position it’s
nothing less than criminal. Such a man has a duty he
must never forget. His behavior must always be above
reproach.”

Sir Ralph broke off, and I saw that his face, vulner
able through blindness, was twitching with emotion.
Caterina went quickly to him, taking his arm and
coaxing him to sit down. She looked at me in a silent
appeal not to upset her husband any further, and I
realized that Sir Ralph had felt a deeper admiration
for Alexis than I had ever guessed—an admiration that
was now being shattered.

I said in a faltering voice, “I’m sorry. I can under
stand how you feel, but I can’t believe it’s ... what it
seems.”

Tapping on the door, Jenny came in with the extra
cup and saucer. Nobody spoke until she had left the
room again. Then Caterina asked, “Have you seen Madeleine yet, Gail, my dear? She was so happy when I told her this morning that you were on the way home.
I made up a little lie, I’m afraid—that you were coming
for a holiday.” She looked at me anxiously. “I did
what I thought was for the best.”