Those Wicked Pleasures (20 page)

‘Will you let me do the honours? I know the menu. Unless of course you fancy something in particular?’

Lara was delighted to let him take over. He ordered Oysters Rockefeller, crab-meat soufflé, salad, camembert, and large, luscious black grapes.

He smiled at his daughter. ‘Light, but delicious. We have an auction to sit through. And now to drink. What do you think, Lara?’

‘Champagne – Roederer Cristal.’

Immediate parental approval.

‘This restaurant is rather a find, Dad. Completely unpretentious. I had no idea it was here, yet I must have passed it dozens of times. You surprise me, though. This is not your usual sort of place.’

‘Well, not ordinarily. I come here on occasions when I am dining with someone and want it to be very private. If I want to talk to someone without being distracted by friends and acquaintances.’

‘Sounds exciting. Has Mother ever been here?’

‘Not to my knowledge. It’s not exactly the sort of place to which your mother would accord her custom. The food, by the way, is excellent. Not all of it, and not all the time, but what we have ordered will be very good. I do sometimes come here alone just to eat the Oysters Rockefeller.’

‘You’re full of surprises, Dad.’

‘And so are you. A girl full of surprises, that is. Actually, we’re having dinner together tonight for just that reason. Ah, but more about that later. Here come the oysters.’

That remark should have told Lara something, but it didn’t. It slipped by in the enthusiasm Henry displayed for the sizzling crustaceans set before him. She was suddenly ravenous and had to admit that, with the perfectly chilled champagne, they were a gourmet’s delight. She pronged the last oyster and its chip of bacon and placed it on her tongue. Afterwards she sipped the last drop of juice from the shell and replaced it on the white porcelain oyster plate.

Only then, when she and Henry had exhausted the conversational potential of a plate of oysters and a fine bottle of champagne, did Lara realise there was more to the evening than just father and daughter out together. ‘What are we doing here beside eating, Dad?’

A waiter arrived at that moment to refill their glasses,
another to whisk away the plates. ‘I think another bottle, George.’ Henry waited for the man to disappear before he answered her.

‘We are here, Lara, because of a father’s love for his daughter. This evening is happening because I sense an unhappiness in you that disturbs me. Yes, I think that’s what this is all about. And because I want to talk to you about it. There is no reason why you should be unhappy – or, more to the point, why you should permit yourself to be unhappy. I love you too much to allow that. Lara, you are going to have to do something about it.’

She had prided herself on her ability to maintain the façade of a happy-go-lucky deb while secretly prolonging her not-always-happy romance. She was shattered now to think that Henry had seen through it. How many others knew? She suddenly felt psychologically naked, exposed, to the world’s gaze. Her deepest, darkest self had been surveyed and evaluated. She hardly knew what to do with herself as she sat opposite her father. She had to take a deep breath to hold back tears. She felt pained to have been revealed as a fraud, yet relieved that she no longer had to be one. But, of all people, her father to broach the subject of the charade of her life! If it had to be, she would have preferred Max or David. She could have handled that. But her father? No one handled Henry. How could she rationalise her life or her unhappiness to him?

She had been listening, eyes lowered to avoid his while she sought her bearings. She was overwhelmed that her father should admit to her that he cared enough about her to see past the surface of her life. That he loved her enough to step out of character, to deal directly with her and whatever her problem was, both surprised and flattered her. This time he was not sending in a trustee, a son, a nanny, or any other family retainer to sort her
out. Nor was he offering her the distraction of a new boat, a horse, a plane, a holiday. He was confronting his love for her, his raw need to do the best for her.

Some minutes went by in silence, while both father and daughter composed themselves. When Lara felt calm enough, she took courage and gazed directly into her father’s eyes. She was aware at once that Henry, though in control, was himself quite uneasy about the confrontation, but determined to press forward. How much did he really know? Was it no more than a guess that she was unhappy? She knew the way her father worked; he would have had to have facts. He would never confront her on a mere impression. She was on the hot spot, and began to squirm on the banquette, waiting for him to say something. His changing the subject came as a momentary relief.

‘I am quite looking forward to the auction this evening. There are wonderful things coming up. I think our collection of Old Master drawings might benefit enormously from this night.’ The glossy catalogue lay open. ‘I covet this Rembrandt drawing.’ He spoke at length about his passion for acquiring works of art, and then teased her, ‘I am quite shocked at how long it takes my children to come to terms with their ignorance, and you are no exception, Lara. I take heart, though. They have all proved late developers, and so I have no doubt will you.’

She thumbed through the catalogue and opted for a securely prestigious name or two. ‘Are you after the Raphael or the Caravaggio? If I were not such an ignoramus, I think I could put up with one of those in my collection. If I had a collection, that is.’

‘Touché,’ her father said, not at all displeased to be put in his place. ‘There is hope for you yet, my girl.’

The soufflé arrived. It was delicious. A sliver of crabmeat clung to Lara’s bottom lip. Henry leaned forward to remove it with his napkin. Gazing intently into her eyes, he said, ‘Your mother says you choose the wrong men, and that’s why you are unhappy.’

‘Dad!’

‘Don’t be irritated. I told you we were here to have a talk about you. And we
are
going to have this conversation. I don’t mean to embarrass you, Lara. Let’s both of us put embarrassment aside, and maybe we can sort out a few things that might be helpful. Don’t look so angry with me. It wasn’t me who said men were your problem, your mother did.’

‘I do not choose the wrong men! Mother doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’

‘One thing about your mother, Lara: irritating as she can be at times, she is a wily and observant woman. She does not have her head buried in the sand all the time – only when it suits her. And her hunches are not always off-centre.’

‘Mother can be such a bitch.’

‘Yes, we all allow her that. But I doubt she was being merely bitchy in this instance.’

‘Forty-two years. Why didn’t you leave her? You have so little in common.’

‘Lara, I would hardly say five children, four grandchildren, and an often happy married life were nothing in common. Respect, admiration, love even, for the family and the life she has run so well for us all, have something to do with it, as has duty. I understand that and so does your mother. And we have an understanding about the separate lives we lead outside our marriage. You don’t just walk away from that, throw away a family. You learn to accommodate your differences with a life that is your own, and live it with discretion. And,
anyway, your mother remains the most important woman in my life. I should have thought you realised that. Now, more to the point, is your mother right? Have you become involved with a man who is consuming your life? Is that what is confusing you and making you lose your direction?’

Lara remained silent. Her father continued to eat his soufflé and signalled the waiter to refill their glasses. And then very calmly said, ‘Lara, this conversation is not going to go away. Let me make it easier for you. You are not really having a very good time of it, are you?’

‘No.’

‘And do you agree that you feel that you have lost direction in your life and are confused as to what to do about it?’

‘How did you know, Dad? Is it that obvious?’

‘No, darling girl. Now don’t fret, it is not that obvious, I promise you. It took me a long time, maybe too long, to realise you were in trouble. Once I’d sensed that you were, I watched you for weeks to make sure I was right, to confirm it. You have a very good cover. Too good maybe for your own well-being.’

‘How did you know?’

‘We have all been there sometime in our lives, Lara. Even your father.’

‘Oh, Dad.’

It was relief that she could talk to him that he detected in her voice, so that he knew he had done well to come to her aid. ‘Lara, I don’t happen to agree with your mother. For the most part I like the sort of men you choose. At least the ones you have brought home to Cannonberry Chase, or the men I have seen you with on occasion. But then I look upon them as men. Your mother looks at every man you are with as a potential husband. And maybe in that she is right.’

‘Mother! She always says she disapproves of the men I go with. Then when she meets them, she lays on the charm and comes on the grande-dame with them. She plays the coquette much more than I do, Dad, and then crosses them off her list – unless of course they were on to begin with. She demands all their attention – and gets it, I might add. Finds them utterly charming, takes in the flowers they send and then damns them behind my back, and me for choosing them. It really is too much. She’s always directing the traffic in our lives, and frankly I’m fed up with it. Now, Dad, can we please drop the subject? I know what I must do.’

‘But you can’t do it.’

She hesitated. He pressed her. ‘Can you?’

‘No.’

‘Forget your mother, she has no idea we are having this conversation. This is between you and me, Lara. What is said here tonight will go no further. What is it you must do but can’t?’

‘Leave the man I am in love with.’

‘Ah, in love. In love or infatuated?’

‘I can’t tell any more.’

‘Let’s talk about it, Lara. I don’t need to know who your lover is. I am only here to help you out of your situation, if I can. Understood?’

‘Understood.’

Henry felt relieved. At least she was resigned to talking about the brute she was involved with. ‘Let’s try again for a clearer picture of what’s going on. Is it love, Lara, or infatuation? Or maybe it’s just sexual?’

‘It’s a combination of all those things.’

‘And him – what is it for him?’

‘The same. Or, at least, that’s what he says.’

‘Two people with the same intense feelings for each other? Then why don’t we know about it?’

‘He demands we keep the affair a deep secret.’

‘And you would prefer it out in the open?’

‘Yes. It’s a dark … I almost said dirty … affair. And I hate the secrecy. I despise the hypocrisy.’

‘What else do you hate about the affair that makes you so unhappy?’

‘That I have no control over it, over him, over myself even. And as a result, as you so aptly put it, I have lost direction in my life. I hate that and myself.’

‘And you can’t do anything about this appalling situation? You can’t leave him because you are afraid to lose him.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘I’m afraid it’s not very original. It rather goes with the territory. And you may not believe this, but it is none the less true – I’ve been there myself. Anyone who has been a passionate sensualist has been there one time or another. Only some of us recognise the futility of such an affair sooner than others, and leave because it is not in our nature to remain in an abusive relationship.’

Lara tried to interrupt in defence of herself, but Henry held up his hand to silence her. ‘No, please, let me continue. One can be abused in many ways. It doesn’t have to be physical, but abuse is abuse and usually does lead to the physical. Beside the sexual attraction.’ He saw a blush colour her cheeks and made an attempt to put her at ease. ‘No need to feel embarrassed about such a thing, Lara. We are two adults talking about life, and sex is a part of any life. How else can a man hold a beautiful, spirited young girl like you? Sex is a powerful weapon.’

‘So is love. He says he loves me, and needs me.’

‘And if you add those two things to an exciting erotic life and offer them to an impressionable young girl, a man can not only control her but also destroy her. You
are in trouble, my dear girl. Perhaps deep trouble.’

‘I know. But I will leave him. I just need a little more time.’

‘How long have you been telling yourself that?’

She looked away, a tear lodged in the corner of her eye. She sighed. Barely above a whisper, she said, ‘I’m afraid of never feeling again in my whole life as I feel with him.’

‘Oh, my dear girl, that’s youth and inexperience speaking. I promise you, you will, and even better. You are only at the beginning of your life and loves, Lara. I do really think you must accept that your time has run out with this man. The longer you remain in this relationship, the longer it is going to take you to get over it. Why not concentrate on that and how much damage has already been done to you?’

Lara looked frightened when she turned back to face her father. ‘Dad, promise me, you’ll do nothing about this. I couldn’t bear it if you were to have to bail me out of this affair. I must work this out myself or I will never be free of him. I know enough about myself to know that.’

‘You are asking a great deal, Lara.’

‘Only for you to trust me to do what’s right.’

Henry saw the slight tremble in Lara’s lower lip, heard the anxiety in her voice, and recognised determination in her eyes. He had not seen that look for a very long time. He was wise enough to know that the decision he made there and then would affect Lara for the rest of her life. He would not ruin his favourite child’s chances. He believed that beneath that one small chink of vulnerability was a woman of steel. He believed her to be more like himself than any of his other children, and he loved her for that as much as for any of her other qualities.

‘I trust you to deal with it. Just remember, I’m here for you if you need me. You will win through. It’s all part of growing up and finding out who you are.’