The Devil at Archangel (14 page)

Brandon had never mentioned her own child—Theo's father. It was a

gap in the story that had not struck her at the time—probably because

she had allowed herself to become far too interested in what Mrs

Brandon had to say about Devlin, she thought in self-accusation. But

now she wondered at the omission.

In her explorations of the house, she had encountered the majority of

the past Brandons in portrait form, including a charming study of Mrs

Brandon and her sister Madeleine.

Madeleine Brandon looked very much the younger of the two,

Christina thought as she studied the painting. There was a gentleness

and a humour in her face that her sister had probably never possessed.

Even in the pose the artist had demanded, Mrs Brandon looked more

rigid, as if she was intent on disciplining herself all the time. But they

had both been beautiful, Christina had to acknowledge. There was

little wonder that they should both have captured the hearts of the

Brandon brothers.

But nowhere could she find any pictorial reference to a child of

Charles and Marcelle Brandon—not even among the many

photographs that adorned Mrs Brandon's sitting room in their shining

silver frames, although there were plenty of pictures of Theo at

various stages of his development.

She was curious, but she decided she would simply have to restrain

her curiosity. There had been one tragedy in the recent past with the

drowning of Carey and Madeleine. Perhaps there had been another,

too painful even to mention, and Christina was determined not to

re-open old wounds when this could easily be avoided. If Madame

Christophe—or Eulalie—had been more easily approachable, she

could have asked them, but they were both as distant as ever and she

guessed that any attempt on her part to indulge in gossip about the

Brandon family would be repudiated.

Somewhat reluctantly, she found she was inevitably seeing a great

deal of Theo. As soon as it was obvious his grandmother was

prepared to encourage the association, his invitations had come thick

and fast. Christina had managed to parry the more energetic of

these—including suggestions that they should go riding, and surfing

at a beach on the other side of the island—on the grounds that her

ankle was still giving her trouble. But this excuse could not prevent

him from joining her when she walked in the garden after dinner,

although to her relief he made no attempt to carry their relationship

beyond a little lighthearted flirting.

She found too that when she sunbathed by the swimming pool in the

afternoon while Mrs Brandon rested indoors, Theo was often there.

This surprised her, as she imagined his plantation duties would keep

him fully occupied during the day. He certainly complained enough

about them, and about the alleged shortcomings of Clive May- nard,

the plantation manager, who lived with his wife and two children in a

small bungalow on the opposite side of the Archangel estate.

Christina had met the Maynards when Theo took her on a tour of the

plantation one day. She had been fascinated by everything she had

seen, asking eager questions but aware at the same time that Theo's

interest did not match her own. He answered most of her inquiries but

without enthusiasm, and eventually referred her to Clive, whom they

encountered at the crushing plant, and who insisted they should

accompany him back to his bungalow for lunch. Christina had liked

Lorna Maynard, and had thoroughly enjoyed the chicken and rice

dish that she had served with long cool drinks in frosted glasses, but

she had been embarrassed at the same time by Theo's obvious

boredom with the whole thing and was relieved when Clive

announced that he had to go back to work and the impromptu party

broke up.

Theo had been surprised and a little put out when she tackled him

about his attitude as they drove away in the Range Rover.

'Clive's an adequate manager and he gets well paid. I don't have to

make him a bosom friend of him as well,' he said coldly.

Christina stared at him. 'But I'm an employee too and you don't treat

me like that,' she pointed out.

Theo smiled, forgetting his annoyance and exerting all ; his

considerable charm. 'You come into a very different category,

sweetie,' he told her.

Christina subsided with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction. She hoped

that Lorna had not been upset by Theo's desultory replies and barely

concealed yawns during lunch. She was too pleasant for that. She

wondered too if Theo had been peeved because Clive knew so much

more about the production of sugar than he did, and was so much

more a willing to talk about it. It seemed to her that Theo's basic

interest in the plantation was more proprietorial than industrious. He

enjoyed the respect paid to him as the future owner, but did not want

to become deeply involved in its workings. It occurred to her, not for

the first time, that if Mrs Brandon was not the easiest person in the

world to work for, then her grandson would probably come a close

second.

It gave her almost a feeling of pleasure to turn down his invitation to

go out to dinner that night on the specious grounds that she had letters

to write. Afterwards, she justified herself by actually writing to Mr

Frith. It was longer than she had originally intended because she

decided it might be politic to remain upstairs for most of the evening.

She described the house, and told the story of how it acquired its

name, and she related what family history she knew. She made it as

lighthearted and amusing as she could, stressing the enjoyable side of

life on Ste Victoire. Reading it through before she sealed the

envelope, she thought it would allay any lingering worries Mrs Frith

might still be entertaining about her well-being.

But Theo regarded her refusal of his invitation as merely a temporary

setback, and he made sure that the next time he asked her his

grandmother was present. Uncomfortably aware of Mrs Brandon's

approving smile, Christina knew she could hardly refuse again.

Besides, this time she had no excuse, either real or feigned, so she

reluctantly accepted.

She still hadn't fully worked out the reasons behind her reluctance as

she changed that evening. She had decided to wear her nearest

approximation to an evening dress—very simple in white silky crepe,

the skirt flaring slightly to mid- calf length. The clinging bodice was

held up by narrow shoulder straps, but a long matching scarf acted as

a cover- up. She had piled her hair up on top of her head in a loose

knot. A touch of mascara on her long lashes, and some gloss for her

mouth, and she was ready.

As she descended the stairs, she was glad she had made die effort as

Theo was waiting for her in the hall, resplen-dent in a white dinner

jacket. She had to admit that the formal attire set off his dark good

looks perfectly and gave him a look of added maturity.

He came forward to the foot of the stairs and took her hand. ___

'You look enchanting, Tina.' He bent and pressed his lips to her palm.

It gave her an odd sensation—not unpleasant, but not wholly

enjoyable either, and she removed her hand from his grasp very

firmly, her colour heightened. Just as she did so, she became aware

that Mrs Brandon had appeared in the doorway of the salon and was

watching them. Christina could not tell whether she had witnessed

Theo's caress and its aftermath. Her expression was enigmatic, but

she did not look displeased. She wished them both an enjoyable

evening, and adjured Theo to drive carefully and not keep Christina

out too late before she turned away.

'We'll have dinner at the Hotel Montfort,' Theo said as he opened the

passenger door for Christina. Not the Range Rover tonight, she

noticed, but a low-slung elegant sports car which looked as if it could

pack a powerful punch under that sleek bonnet. 'The food's good, but

it's not exactly a hot spot, so I thought we could go on afterwards to

the Beguine. That's the club I mentioned.'

'It sounds fine.' Christina leaned back cm the luxuriously padded seat.

Now that she was here, she was determined to enjoy herself. 'Isn't the

Beguine also a dance?'

'Oh, yes.' Theo slanted her a grin as he switched on the ignition. 'We

only have a watered-down version here, though; If you want to see it

danced properly you have to see it on Martinique. I suppose you

didn't... No, Grand'- mere would definitely not have approved!'

With her memories of the roads, Christina had not been looking

forward to the drive to Fort Victoire, but it was not as bad as she had

anticipated. Perhaps being in an open car had something to do with it,

she thought, because there was no actual improvement in the road

itself. It was narrow and twisted and turned along the top of the cliff.

Glancing down, Christina caught a disturbing glimpse of a near

precipitous drop to the sea below, with only a flimsy guard rail to

protect the unwary. She swallowed and fixed her gaze firmly in front

of her, hoping devoutly that Theo knew the road as well as he

appeared to know the' car. She had to admit to herself that the speed

they were maintaining was quite sedate under the circumstances. She

was surprised as she had not suspected Theo capable of so much

consideration.

Nevertheless she was quite glad when she saw the patch of lights in

the distance that announced they were approaching Fort Victoire.

'Our tourist trap,' Theo said lightly.

She glanced sideways at him. 'I thought tourists weren't encouraged.'

'By us they're not, but there are other interests now, and they're

making sure they're heard,' Theo said a little peevishly. 'Bellairs who

owns the Montfort is one of diem—and my dear cousin Dev is

another, of course.'

Her mouth felt suddenly dry. 'Of course.'

Theo's lips were thin. 'They have all kinds of little schemes—a

marina for boats, no less, and several more hotels—a country club. I

daresay it would all have been a
fait accompli
by now—if they could

have got the land.'

'Is there none available?'

His smile was small and triumphant. 'Not while there are Brandons at

Archangel, Tina. We still own most of the land—and the whip hand

as well.'

Christina moistened her lips. 'I—I see.'

She thought she did, too. It was something she had never experienced

before—this enjoyment of power for its own sake. She found it

alarming.

She was conscious of it again while they were dining. The food and

service were impeccable, but she found theair of deference with

which they were treated almost overwhelming. And Theo, she

thought, biting her lip, was in his element—sending a message to the

chef, arguing over various vintages with the wine waiter as if he was a

noted connoisseur of many years' standing instead of a boy barely out

of his teens. She knew that people were watching them, and her

embarrassment grew.

She began to wonder if she could feign a headache once the meal was

over. She found she did not want to have to spend the remainder of

the evening watching Theo lord it over Fort Victoire.

But as she began her excuses, Theo became mutinous. It ' had been

stuffy in the dining room, he would grant her that, but she couldn't

break the evening up so quickly. They would walk to the Beguine,

and the fresh air would clear her head. He was so insistent that

Christina felt she could not persist in her objections. Her position was

a difficult one. She was here after all with her employer's full

approbation, but Mrs Brandon might not be too pleased if she cut the

evening short with some lame excuse. Theo was evidently her pride

and joy and was spoiled as a result. Watching him act the part of Mr

Brandon of Archangel might have to be one of her duties, and she

would have to regard it in that light.

In spite of the Brandons' opposition, tourists had begun to discover

Ste Victoire, she thought, as they entered the Beguine. Nearly all the

tables, set on a raised gallery running round the dance floor, were

occupied and the floor itself was crowded.

She .turned to Theo. 'There doesn't seem to be much room...'

He ignored her, summoning a waiter with a snap of his fingers. As if

by magic a table for two appeared at the edge of the floor. By the time

they reached it, candles had been lit on it and a flower arrangement

had been placed in its centre.

Christina sat down in the chair that was being held for her. 'I'm