The Devil at Archangel (17 page)

not expect to get much sleep. The sheets as she crept between them

felt cool to the heat of her body, and the softness of the pillow cradled

her like the shoulder of a friend.

And I need a friend, was her last drowsy thought as sleep, aided by

the tablet she had taken downstairs, claimed her.

As soon as she was dressed the following morning, Christina went

along to Mrs Brandon's rooms. She knocked at the outer door of the

suite, and after a short pause the door was opened by Eulalie, who

gave her a sullen look.

'Madame is not ready for you yet,' she said, and made to close the

door again, but Christina forestalled her.

'Please ask her to see me,' she said, determinedly walking past Eulalie

into the sitting room.

Eulalie hesitated for a moment, then walked with a flounce back into

the bedroom beyond and closed the door. Christina wandered over to

the window and stood gazing out, absorbing the beauty of the gardens

and the blue gleam of the sea in the distance. In many ways, it would

be hard to leave, she thought, just as she was beginning to come to

terms with these exotic but alien surroundings. She thought of the

silver-sanded beach, and the palm trees that fringed it, and the

warmth of the rippling water. These were things she would never be

able to forget, she knew, but there would be other less safe memories

that she would have to take with her too, and her stomach contracted

painfully as a sudden image of Devlin Brandon rose in her mind with

his cool eyes and that casual, careless grace of movement. Do what

she might when she was gone from this place, she would-carry him

with her. He was part of it all—of this house, the beach, Fort

Victoire—even Martinique.

She gave a deep sigh, and turned to give an impatient glance at the

closed bedroom door. Mrs Brandon was in no hurry to accede to her

request. Perhaps last night's happenings had been brought to her ears,

and she was showing her displeasure. Perhaps Christina would not

have to give her notice in after all. Maybe her employer was waiting

to sack her. She gave a wry smile. Somehow she did not think so. The

more she thought about it, the more evident if seemed that Mrs

Brandon was deliberately encouraging an intimate reladonship

between her grandson and a little nobody from England. The only

thing remaining in doubt was why she should be doing this, but

Christina had already decided she did not really want to know. All she

wanted was out. And if she was honest, it was not simply Theo and

his unwanted attentions she needed to escape from, but the

ambivalence of her. feelings about Devlin Brandon—the enemy she

had so nearly allowed to become, her lover. She was shocked by the

intensity of the emotions he could arouse in her. She could only be

thankful that he would never know, and that her self-betrayal had

only been brief.

The bedroom door opened and Eulalie appeared in the doorway,

indicating with a brief succinct jerk of her head that Christina's

presence was required at last. Christina braced herself mentally and

then walked into the room with an outward tranquility she was far

from feeling.

Mrs Brandon was sitting up in bed, wrapped in a silk bedjacket in an

attractive cyclamen shade. Her breakfast tray had been set to one side

and she was engaged in looking through the morning's mail. She

glanced up as Christina entered with slightly raised brows, but her

attitude was not unwelcoming.

'Good morning,
ma chere.
This is an early visit. Has some problem

arisen?'

Well, it was the opening she had wanted, Christina thought ruefully.

She gave a little nod.

'Sit down.' Mrs Brandon gestured towards a fragile gilt chair,

indicating that Christina should pull it up to the bed. She complied

with a sinking heart. This interview would have been far easier if Mrs

Brandon had been downright hostile or even in one of her regal

moods. This morning she seemed to have reverted to the old friend of

Aunt Grace who had been so persuasive back in England. 'Now,' she

leaned forward and patted Chrisdfta's unresponsive hand. 'What is the

trouble? Surely not that little
contre temps
with Theo last night?'

Christina flushed and , withdrew her hand. 'Then you know about

that?'

'Naturellement.
There is little that happens on Archangel that I am not

acquainted with,' Mrs Brandon returned composedly.

'Then it won't come as any surprise to you when I say—I have to give

you my notice,
madame,
and leave here.'

Mrs Brandon leaned back against her pillows. Her smile faded into an

almost tangible chill. 'Why so?'

'Surely it's obvious.' Christina gripped her hand together in her lap. 'I

simply can't stay here in this house after what has happened.'

'And why not? Because, a silly boy allowed his ardour to get the

better of him and lost his head momentarily? Has that never happened

to you before, Christina? I am amazed if so. The young men in

England must be extremely cold-blooded.'

Christina bent her head. 'It's very easy to dismiss me as being a naive

child,
madame,'
she said in a low voice. 'But you were not there.

You don't know what happened.'

'I know enough. Theo came to confess to me at once.'

Mrs Brandon examined the ruby and diamond ring on her right hand

with minute care. 'I understand there was some damage to your

dress—such a shame, it was so charming--for which he is anxious to

make amends. I do not recommend any of the island shops, but he

would be happy to escort you to Martinique to select a new dress and

...'

'Mrs Brandon, you seem determined to ignore what I've said. I have

asked you to accept my notice.'

'Oh, no, Christina.' Mrs Brandon gave a decisive shake of her

immaculately coiffed head. 'I am not prepared to do that,
mon enfant.

You are an attractive girl and I think you have not yet come to terms

with that. Theo's attentions were—premature, I agree, but...'

'The word "premature" suggests that they might become acceptable at

some future time,' Christina interrupted her again. A feeling of

desperation was beginning to assail her. 'I have to tell you,
madame,

that this just isn't so. And please don't hope for anything different.'

She broke off, afraid she had said too much.

Mrs Brandon had become very pale and her lips were drawn into a

straight line.

'I think,' she said, and her voice was strained, 'I think it would be

better, Christina, if we were to pretend that this conversation had

never taken place. You may go now. When you are calmer, I will

send Theo to you to apologise. You will be good enough to forgive

him. I assure you he is finding it very hard to forgive himself.'

'There's no need for that—please.' Christina felt that the last thing she

wanted was a probably emotional scene with Theo abasing himself.

'If you would just accept my notice and allow me to leave at the end

of the month.'

'But what I am attempting to convey to you, Christina, is that that will

not be possible. I do not wish you to leave.' Mrs Brandon's agitation

was increasing perceptibly. 'You have become—necessary to me.'

'To you,
madame,
or to your plans for the future?' Christina

demanded, and saw the older woman start. There was a silence and

when Mrs Brandon spoke again, her tone was quieter, almost

placatory.

'You must forgive me, Christina. As we become older, we do not also

necessarily grow wiser. I made the grave mistaking that because I

harboured a wish very dear to my heart and that of your godmother,

you would in time wish for it too. I see now that is not so, and I ask

your pardon.'

Christina stared at her. She felt totally confused at this unexpected

humbling of herself by her employer. And what had she said?

'You spoke of Aunt Grace .. .' she began tentatively, and Mrs Brandon

nodded.

'We made a plan while we were at school,' she said, a reminiscent

smile playing around her mouth. 'I would have a son, and she would

have a daughter, and they would marry. Grace—did not forget, and

neither did I. That was why when I saw the notice of her death in a

newspaper, I came to fetch you—so that the wish of our youth could

be fulfilled.'

Christina sat very still, her body tense. She found it difficult to take in

what Mrs Brandon was saying. Was she implying that Aunt Grace

had bargained with her about her future? Was that why she had been

brought here—so that she could fulfil her side of a bargain she had

not even been aware existed? She felt a tight knot of something like

desperation begin to curl itself in her midriff. She had to speak, and

quickly—to make her position clear.

'I'm sorry,' she said, aware of the shake in her voice, 'but : I knew

nothing of this, and if I had not known it I would not have come here.'

She saw Mrs Brandon stiffen and rushed on. 'I'm sure everyone

makes plans like this—for children. But they don't seriously expect

that they're going to work out when the children grow up.'

'I expected it.' Mrs Brandon's eyes were very bright. They -held

Christina's almost magnetically. 'And so did your godmother.

Consider, Christina, what else have you to hope for? A brilliant

career? It seems hardly likely, does it, with your lack of

qualifications. Unless you wish to spend your life as a dependent

spinster, marriage seems the best answer—indeed the only answer.'

Christina's heart was thudding. 'Thank you,' she managed, 'for

painting such a graphic picture of my prospects.'

Mrs Brandon leaned back against her pillows. 'I am only trying to be

realistic,' she pointed out. 'I cannot understand 1 why you should find

marriage with my grandson such an alarming prospect. Does the idea

of being mistress of Archangel not appeal to you?'

Christina bent her head. There was a struggle going on inside herself

that it was imperative Mrs Brandon did not even guess at; or she

might be lost. Of course it appealed to her. She would not have been

human if she had not fully enjoyed the kind of luxury at her disposal

since she had arrived. The house seemed to function on well-oiled

machinery, and the service provided was unobtrusive but excellent.

At the back of all this was wealth, she knew, the sort of money you

heard about but never actually possessed.

Yet at the same time, beating in her brain, she seemed to hear a man's

scornful words,
Is marriage too high a price , to pay ... too high a

price?'
Eyes like silver ice seemed to flay the skin from her body, and

a long controlled shudder went through her. No, she could never

marry Theo, not now. Her first lesson on what passion could be

between a man and a woman might have been brief, but she would

never forget it, and that would be her burden for the rest of her life. It

certainly would not permit her to settle for anything less, and with

Theo, she knew, it would be much, much less. His hands, his lips had

been a totally unwarrantable intrusion on her womanhood. She could

no more have given him her body than she could have flown to the

moon.

It was so unfair, really, she allowed herself to think unwillingly. Theo

at least was prepared to offer her an honourable marriage, and she

cared nothing for him—was, in fact, a little repulsed by his attentions.

Whereas to Devlin, whose slightest touch could send her body

flaming with a white- hot craving she could neither explain nor

excuse, she was simply the amusement of an hour. Just another in a

series of amorous diversions. It hurt, but it had to be faced.

And having faced it, she lifted her bead and looked at Mrs Brandon.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but I really don't care for Theo— in that way.'

'Is that such an insuperable barrier?' Mrs Brandon's eyes were

narrowed. 'You are very young, my dear, to know your own mind on

such a subject, but if you are wise you will not permit it to trouble you

unduly. I did not.' She gave a faint smile. 'That—shocks you? But the

English are such an impractical nation with their dream of true love.

My sister was as bad, marrying a younger son because she fell in

love, when the older one was there for the taking.' She leaned forward

putting her hand over Christina's. Her fingers felt dry and warm.

'Land,
mon enfant,
property, the continuation of a heritage—those are

the important things in marriage. That has never occurred to you,