Room Beneath the Stairs (19 page)

“There's something I think you ought to know,” he said.

“What?”

“I love you, luv.”

“Grey—”

“With all my heart. That sounds corny as hell, doesn't it?”

“It sounds lovely.”

I brushed the damp hair from his forehead. His hands were resting on my shoulders now; his strong fingers squeezed my flesh. I looked up at him. His face was inches from my own. I saw the strong jaw, the curving pinkness of his mouth, the broad cheekbones, desire-filled blue-gray eyes with sleepy, drooping lids and beautifully shaped brows—all so near, like a living movie close-up. He curled one hand around the back of my neck and bent down to kiss me again. I wrapped my arms around him, ran my hands over his shoulders, feeling the smooth muscular contours beneath the soft white sweater. His mouth was tender and firm, caressing mine.

In the doorway, Judy coughed discreetly. Still holding me against him, Grey looked over his shoulder at her.

“I'm ever so sorry, I'm sure,” she said, “but Mister Evan said for me to tell you lunch is ready and you'd better come eat because Cook's in a state because no one but Miss Carolyn ate breakfast, all that food uneaten after her goin' to such trouble and—”

“All
right
, Judy.”

She left. Grey sighed deeply, holding me loosely.

“You didn't eat breakfast either?” I asked.

“Wasn't time. We left too early.”

“Is Cook temperamental?”

“Bossy as hell,” he said, stroking my cheek.

“We'd better go.”

“I can think of things I'd rather do.”

“I know.”

“Later,” he said huskily.

He held my hand tightly as we walked down the hall to the dining room. I felt much better now. I had needed that long, lazy kiss, had needed the reassurance it had given me. He loved me. Because of them, because he felt he had to, he was keeping something from me, but he loved me. That knowledge strengthened me. I knew I was doing the right thing. Those moments of weakness out on the wall had been folly. I couldn't leave him. I knew Grey didn't want to be part of their conspiracy, and I sensed that he was somehow vulnerable, that for all his strength and robust energy he needed my protection. I couldn't explain the feeling, but it was there nevertheless.

Much to my surprise, Helen was at the table. Her face looked tense and strained, but it was well under control. Evan had changed into a charcoal-gray business suit. The smudges were still under his eyes, and his face seemed to sag with fatigue. His hair was neatly combed and still rather damp. The two of them had obviously been discussing something heatedly before we arrived. Both looked up. Evan made no effort to rise, but I didn't expect him to. Stella set bowls of soup in front of us, and a minute or two later the door cracked open and I saw a flushed, angry face peering at us—Cook, no doubt, checking to see that we were really eating. Evan and Helen were both silent during the meal. Grey was too hungry to notice the tension crackling in the air. I ignored it.

“I finally finished that report,” Evan said after Stella had cleared the dishes away. “I've got to take it over to the office. I'd like for you to come with me, Grey.”

“Can't,” Grey replied casually. “Carolyn and I have plans.”

“It's important. You haven't been over since you returned. I think you should put in an appearance.”

“Sorry.”

“I want you to go with me.” Evan's voice was firm.

“Jesus Christ!” Grey exclaimed, but he made no further protest.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing beside him on the front steps as Burke brought the Rolls around. Evan carried a small black leather briefcase, but he was terribly unconvincing as a businessman, looking more like an eighteenth-century pirate incongruously dressed in modern attire. My hand in Grey's, I watched the gleaming tan and brown Rolls circle the drive and stop in front of the steps. Burke got out and held the door open for them. He didn't so much as glance at me. I wondered if he intended to tell them about this morning. For some reason I rather doubted it.

“How long will you be gone?” I inquired.

“We'll be back around four,” Evan said.

That should give me plenty of time, I thought.

The Rolls disappeared through the portals. I hesitated for just a moment on the front steps. Helen had gone back up to her room immediately after lunch. The servants were all busy with their chores. No one would miss me. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being watched, I started briskly down the drive. It took me almost five minutes to reach the portals. The drive passed through the woods only a short distance, I remembered, and then it began to curve down to the village. I walked briskly, smelling pine and salt air, watching light purple shadows stretching over the dark gray road. A light wind stirred the trees.

I had no idea what I was going to say to her, but I knew that Valerie was somehow or other involved in all this. If Grey had indeed been her lover, the interview might be difficult. I was prepared for that. I remembered the way Evan had seized her shoulders, shaking her violently. Everything else aside, Valerie had reason to resent Evan Porter, and I felt she might be willing to talk to me.

The road made a wide turn, curving toward the mainland, and in just a few minutes the thickest woods were behind me. I paused for a moment, standing on the crest of the island. Below I could see level after level of dark green pine trees rearing up, narrow, sloping gullies between them and large gray boulders scattered about. The road looped around the side of the hill in a series of winding curves like a dark ribbon threading through the pines. Although from where I stood I could look out over the water and see the mainland beyond, the village was invisible. I would have to go down farther before catching sight of its rooftops. I rested for a minute or two, then started down, staying at the side of the road, following its winding course.

It was easy work going downhill. I felt young and vigorous, enjoying the exercise for its own sake. Sunlight spilled over the hillside, making deep shadows among the gullies, gilding the treetops with gold. The side of the road was spongy with dead yellow-brown pine needles that crunched pleasantly underfoot. Turning with the road, I finally saw part of the village through dark green boughs, the multilevel rooftops brown and tan and dull gold, the church spire rising up like a copper needle.

It was as I was rounding the last curve that I saw the Rolls coming up the steep stretch of road that led directly from the village before turning onto this curve. I stopped, both surprised and startled. They couldn't possibly have.… Then I realized that Burke must have let them out and done a few errands in the village before starting back to the house. No doubt he intended to drive back down to pick them up later on. The Rolls drew nearer, moving slowly up the road. I could just see Burke's face through the windshield. It was imperative that he not see me. Moving rapidly, I darted off the road and just managed to crouch behind a boulder as the car turned onto the curve. I could hear the motor purring smoothly, hear the tires rolling heavily. Cautiously peering around the boulder, I watched it pass. Burke looked neither left nor right. I sighed with relief and, after a moment or two, stepped back to the side of the road and hurried on down to the village.

Although there were dozens of people about, no one paid the slightest attention to me as I made my way down one of the winding side streets. The village seemed to be bustling with industry. Shops were fitted out with surprisingly up-to-date window displays: expensive cameras, the latest clothes. Then I remembered that Greycliff was a big tourist attraction, swarming with trippers during the summer months. With summer so near, the village was snapping out of its inbred lethargy and putting on a holiday face that would vanish with the advent of fall. The villagers might despise the trippers who invaded the island, but they certainly didn't scorn their money. I went on down to the waterfront, ignored by the people who passed me on the sidewalk.

Tanned, leathery-faced men hung about the pier, some of them mending nets, some merely idling about, looking tough and taciturn in their heavy jackets and leather-brimmed caps. Boats bobbed on the water, and a group of muscular youths were unloading barrels from the deck of a small tanker. No one so much as glanced at me, although I was certain every last one of them knew who I was. I moved past the gray and brown and tan shopfronts with their white gingerbread woodwork, past Woolworth's with its gaudy ribbons and wares, finally stopping in front of the pub. Hesitating only a second or two, I went through the swinging wooden doors.

After the brilliant sunlight outside, the interior of the pub seemed terribly dim. It took me a moment to adjust my eyes to the change. Heavy green curtains hung at the windows. Tables and chairs were of sturdy oak, and the long bar was covered with ancient red leather, beer taps lined up behind it. The other walls were paneled in dark fumed oak. The odor of alcohol was strong, and there were the smells of tobacco smoke and fried potatoes. Two men were lethargically throwing darts, and after giving me indifferent glances they continued their game. A plump woman in a flowered dress and battered black hat with limp pink roses stared forlornly into her glass of ale, mascara streaming down her fat cheeks. At a corner table an old tar was asleep, sprawled forward with his head on his arms. There were no other customers.

A door behind the bar opened and Valerie came into the room. She wore the low-cut white peasant blouse and short blue skirt. She didn't see me at first, and I took the opportunity to study her. With her long black curls and dark blue eyes, Valerie was breathtakingly beautiful, exuding a rich, earthy animal magnetism. Although she wasn't hard, one could sense that her life hadn't been easy. The scarlet mouth was rather bitter, and the eyes were filled with a kind of defiant resignation that I found disturbing. Valerie had had a rough time of it, and she expected no lucky breaks in the future. She had a hard-won dignity that was both touching and impressive.

Setting a bottle beneath the bar, she looked up wearily. When she saw me, her eyes widened in alarm. Glancing uneasily at the men throwing darts, she hurried around the bar and stood in front of me.

“You shouldn't be here,” she said. Her voice was low.

“You know who I am?”

“I know who you are, Mrs. Brandon.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You'd better leave.”

The girl was plainly nervous. I had the impression she was frightened of me. Did she think I had come to pick a quarrel? She glanced at the men again, then looked outside as though she expected someone to come in. Her eyes were troubled.

“Why did you come here?”

“I thought perhaps you could help me.”

“Help you?”

“I saw you with Evan Porter this morning. He was terribly upset about something. I—it's important that I know what it was. He told me you were trying to trick him into marrying you. I could tell he was lying.”

“I see,” she said.

“It's not true, is it?”

“It's not true,” she said bitterly.

“Will you help me?” I asked.

“Who brought you here, Mrs. Brandon?”

“I came alone. No one knows.”

Valerie looked at me for a long moment without speaking. The men playing darts suddenly tired of their game. Gathering up jackets and caps, they called hearty farewells to Valerie. She smiled a sexy smile and raised her hand in farewell, but as soon as they went out the door her face was grave.

“Listen,” she said, “I've got a father and two brothers. All three of them work at the cannery. It's their only means of support. Evan Porter threatened to fire them if—I talked to anyone. He made other threats as well.”

“I understand,” I said quietly.

It was futile. I could see that. There was no reason why this girl should trust me. She had every reason not to. I was filled with disappointment, and it must have shown. Valerie's face hardened. She took my arm and led me to one of the tables in the back of the room. Gesturing for me to sit down, she took a chair facing the front so she could look out over the tops of the swinging doors.

“I don't like being threatened,” she said.

“Why did he threaten you?”

“I'm not sure. None of it makes any sense.”

“You had an affair with Grey, didn't you?”

The question didn't seem to surprise her. She merely nodded.

“We saw each other for several months,” she said in a flat voice. “He didn't want his family to know, so we met secretly. I have my own flat, and he came there. I didn't expect anything—I certainly didn't expect him to marry me. I fell in love with him, Mrs. Brandon. It was enough just being with him.”

“What happened?”

Valerie hesitated a moment before continuing. “One night I thought I saw someone standing outside as Grey was leaving the flat. It was dark, and the trees were casting shadows, but—I think that man was waiting for him. Burke. I think it was him. Grey never came back. The next time I saw him he was standing on the pier. With you.”

I didn't say anything. There was nothing I could say. Her eyes were thoughtful, sad, and the corners of her mouth drooped a little. Grey's desertion of her was just another experience, just another disappointment in a long line of them. She stared across the room and then shrugged her shoulders. It was one of the most pathetic gestures I've ever seen.

“That's life,” she said.

“Why should Evan have lied to me?”

“I wouldn't know.”

“He was deliberately trying to mislead me. He didn't want me to know about you and Grey. Why? I know he wasn't trying to protect my delicate sensibilities. There's some other reason.…”

Valerie was silent. Her silence was significant. The nervousness had returned. She knitted her hands together tightly, and I could see that she did so to keep them from trembling. She looked outside. She was holding something back, I could tell. She still hadn't told me why she had come to the house this morning, why Evan had threatened her.