Dangerous Rhapsody Page 12

  ‘Go on.'

  Emma sighed, casting about in her mind for words to explain her actions.

  ‘Do you remember that dinner party you gave, when you invited Lord and Lady Masterham?'

  Damon frowned. ‘Well, I remember them, I don't say I remember any particular dinner party, why?'

  ‘Well, after dinner when you and her husband were having drinks, Lady Masterham and I sat out on the balcony. She started off by telling me how clever you were, and how successful you were in business, and how important it was for a man in your position to have the right wife. She said she thought you were terribly courageous becoming involved with a little nobody like me, when I had no money or position, as well as being far too young for you. She said it was completely out of character and she hoped our affair wouldn't have an adverse influence on your position and so on.’ Emma hunched her shoulders. ‘You can guess the rest, can't you? And she wasn't the only one by any means. All your so-called friends thought I would ruin your life, spoil everything for you. I knew you would never believe that. Besides, I knew we loved one another.’ She bent her head. ‘But I was young and afraid that what they said might be true, and I loved you too much to want to ruin your life. So I pretended there was someone else. I knew if I told you the truth, you would never let me go, so the way I took was the only way. But when you married Elizabeth Kingsford just that short while later, and then produced a daughter, I thought I should die!’ She looked up at him, hardly daring to face the expression on his face and see the disbelief in his eyes.

  Damon was standing, as though mesmerized. With an effort he roused himself and said:

  ‘Is this true?’ His voice was harsh. ‘You're not just making it up?'

  Emma shook her head. ‘No, I'm not making it up.'

  Damon reached for her hand, and slid his fingers lingeringly up her arm. ‘You must have been crazy,’ he muttered savagely. ‘Did you think I'd give a damn what anybody thought?'

  ‘I knew you wouldn't,’ exclaimed Emma. ‘Don't you see? That's why I had to lie to you or you would never have let me do it.'

  ‘That's for sure,’ he muttered incredulously. ‘But why wait until now to tell me?'

  Emma lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. ‘I suppose I couldn't stand your torturing yourself, and me, any longer. You had to know the truth.'

  Damon shook his head bewilderedly. ‘Oh, Emma, what a little fool you've been, wasting all these years!'

  ‘They've not been wasted,’ said Emma, attempting to regain her composure. ‘Oh, I know my pride wouldn't let me go on having you think me such a selfish, stupid creature, deserving of your hatred and disgust, but the situation hasn't really changed. We're older now, both of us, but I'm still a nobody without a penny to my name, and you're still the chairman of Thorne Chemicals.'

  Damon's fingers suddenly hurt her arm. ‘What am I supposed to glean from that remark?’ he asked tersely.

  ‘Just what I said,’ replied Emma wearily. ‘I can't marry you, Damon, no more now than I could then.'

  Damon's eyes were incredulous. ‘Casting aside the unnecessary comment that I haven't asked you, would you mind telling me why?'

  ‘You know why.’ Emma moved restlessly. ‘Damon, Elizabeth Kingsford wasn't like me. She had money, and position in society; your marriage to her was at least a suitable one.'

  ‘And look how successful that turned out,’ Damon ground out angrily. ‘We lived together for exactly three months; all the rest was hell!'

  ‘Well, maybe she was all wrong for you. From what Tansy has said I should think she was the complete antithesis of yourself.'

  Damon released her abruptly, stubbing out his cigarette and picking a cigar out of the box on his desk. ‘What would you suggest I do?’ he asked bitterly. ‘Find a woman I could live with, and have you, or Tansy, vet her to see if she's suitable!'

  Emma clenched her fists. ‘Are you thinking of marrying again?'

  ‘I may do,’ he murmured sardonically, his only desire to hurt her again.

  ‘Oh, Damon!’ she cried, and turning, she ran swiftly out of the room as she had done before.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE next morning brought a letter from Johnny. It was longer than the usual short notes he had been sending her, and Emma took it gratefully, glad of something to take her mind off Damon, and the eventual outcome of their association.

  But when she read the letter she found that the reason for its length was purely a selfish one. Johnny was in trouble again. He needed money. Could she let him have a hundred and seventy-live pounds?

  Emma shook her head in astonishment. She would have thought Johnny's experience a short while ago would have taught him a salutary lesson, but as it was he seemed to have become more embroiled in deceit than ever, and was in an even worse predicament now than before.

  She didn't know what to do. It would not be difficult to contact her bank in London and have them make out a cheque for Johnny to cover his needs, but what then? Her bank balance was not a large one, using so much as she had to keep both herself and Johnny in food and clothing when she had been working at the hospital. Johnny had borrowed money carelessly from her, and had never made much contribution towards their joint budget, and if she were now to be expected to foot all his gambling debts she would soon have nothing at all. She wished there was someone she could turn to, someone with whom she could discuss her problems. But there was no one. She had no intention of speaking to Damon about it, for although she felt sure he would despise Johnny, nevertheless he would see that the money was paid somehow, perhaps exacting more payment from her in return.

  Then she shook her head. That was less than honest. Damon had proved himself an honourable man, and she had no cause to think otherwise. So the problem remained hers, and with a sigh of dejection she wrote the letter to the bank in London authorizing them to pay Johnny a hundred and seventy-five pounds.

  London seemed so far away somehow, but Johnny's problems bridged the gulf between them, enmeshing her in his web of dishonesty. Three or four months ago she wouldn't have believed Johnny could behave in such a fashion, but it was remarkable how the mind adjusted itself, so that now she accepted it in much the same way she accepted her own unhappy position here.

  * * *

  Later the same day, Damon had a telephone call from Paul in London. He was lying on an airbed beside the swimming pool with Annabel when Rosa came to call him to the phone. Expecting some problem over business, Damon was surprised when Paul said:

  ‘The apartment was broken into last night!'

  Roused fully now from his lethargy, Damon's voice was curt. ‘The apartment?’ he muttered. ‘What the hell was Baines doing?'

  Baines was his manservant who lived at the London penthouse.

  ‘Baines was coshed, and tied up,’ replied Paul, ‘he's in a pretty bad way. I guess you could say it was touch and go.'

  ‘Good God!’ Damon was astounded. ‘Well… what did they take? The Monet? Or the Renoir?'

  ‘Neither, curiously enough. Nothing was actually stolen. The whole place was turned over; what a shambles! But that was all! At a guess I'd say they were looking for something.'

  Damon ran a hand round the back of his neck, frowning deeply. He was silent for so long that Paul said:

  ‘Are you still there?'

  Sure, sure! I was trying to think, that's all.’ Damon shook his head incredulously. ‘I can't understand it. Can you?'

  ‘No. That's for sure.’ Paul sounded half amused. ‘Anyway, I'm ringing from the apartment now. The police are here, of course. I called them as soon as I found Baines.'

  ‘You found Baines?'

  ‘Yes. I came round early this morning, could get no reply, so I used the key you left. It was pretty ghastly finding Baines like that. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he's had a transfusion now and the doctors say he should pull through.'

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Damon fervently. ‘Poor old Baines. How did they get in?'

  ‘I
guess he opened the door to them. There was no sign of a struggle and of course no windows had been tampered with. After all, he had no reason not to answer the door.'

  ‘That's right.’ Damon sighed heavily. ‘Still, I wish we knew what it was all about. What took you so long to ring me?'

  ‘Oh, you know, the usual police routine; proving my identity and so on, and then actually getting the call. Anyway, is there anything you want me to do? I'll get the place straightened out of course, but after that, what?'

  Damon shrugged. ‘I don't know. I guess you could sleep at the apartment if you wanted to.’ He smiled to himself. ‘Don't think I want you to get coshed, Paul, but if they turned the place over I should presume the safest place in London right now is my apartment, get it?'

  ‘You think they might try my place?’ Paul was incredulous. He had a flat not far from Damon's apartment.

  ‘Who knows? We don't know what, if anything, they were searching for, but if it's anything to do with the company, they're bound to know you're my personal assistant, and who knows what they might do.'

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Paul hurriedly. ‘You've convinced me. I'll sleep at the apartment, and I'll keep the alarm system on day and night. You can call me a coward if you like, but I'm taking no chances.'

  Damon's tension released itself a little and he laughed. ‘Good man! And don't worry! I'll be back in a few days myself.'

  But after Paul had rung off, Damon felt the tension returning. Who would want to turn out his apartment? And why should anyone do so without taking advantage of the small fortune in paintings and ivory? Even a common thief who was searching for some particular object would be tempted to take something for his trouble. The only alternative was that whoever had turned over the apartment had been acting under orders from someone else with strict instructions that nothing incriminating should be taken.

  He walked slowly outside, lighting a cigar thoughtfully. It was a problem which defied analysis; a contradiction from start to finish.

  Annabel, hearing his approach, said, ‘What's wrong, Daddy?'

  Damon stared at her. The child was too sensitive by half. She could tell in some strange way that he was disturbed.

  ‘Why, nothing, Annabella,’ he lied smoothly. ‘Come along. We'll swim for a while, then Daddy has some work to do.'

  * * *

  Emma spent the day alternately worrying about Johnny and worrying about her own situation here. She did not see Damon all day, avoiding the swimming pool when she knew he was there with Annabel. The weather didn't help either. It was very warm, and there were ominous black clouds in the distance which heralded a storm. But the storm didn't come, and somehow Emma wished it would. At least it would give her something else to think about.

  The next day dawned heavy and enervating. There was no sun and the clouds were closer now, sharply defined against the yellow-coloured sky. Louisa left after breakfast for Nassau. It was her day off, and Joseph was taking her to Nassau for a day's shopping. She had invited Emma to go with her knowing full well that the girl was entitled to some free time, but Emma refused to go, making some excuse about the weather and the fact that she had a slight headache. Contrarily, after Louisa had gone, Emma wished she had accompanied her, for with Damon at home Annabel had no time for anyone else.

  However, after breakfast Damon told Annabel he had some telephoning to do and consequently the child came in search of Emma. They went down to the beach, taking a story book along, and Emma read several short stories to Annabel before Annabel said:

  ‘Let's not read any more, Emma. Tell me about when you were a little girl. Did you have a mummy and a daddy? Did you have brothers and sisters?'

  Emma sighed and closed the book. ‘Yes,’ she said, slowly. ‘I had a mummy and a daddy. But I have only one brother. There were just the four of us. But we were very happy. We didn't have a lot of money like your daddy, but that didn't seem to matter. We used to be able to afford a holiday at the seaside every year, and really that's all the travelling we ever did.'

  Annabel digested this. ‘Was your house big?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Emma smiled. ‘There were three bedrooms and one bathroom. Then a couple of rooms and a kitchen downstairs.'

  ‘Is that all?’ Annabel was obviously surprised. Her experience of houses had been limited to huge villas and country houses like the house her father had owned in Ireland.

  ‘Yes, that's all,’ said Emma, sighing. ‘That's more than a lot of people have, Annabel. You're a terribly lucky little girl having a lovely home, and a swimming pool, and anything your heart desires.'

  ‘I'm not lucky,’ exclaimed Annabel, at once. ‘Oh, I love Daddy, and I'm sure he loves me, but I'd give everything else up if I could have a real home and a mummy and daddy who loved one another and baby brothers and sisters.’ She clasped her hands round her drawn-up knees. ‘Oh, I'd love to have lots of children in the house, and babies for me to look after, instead of only Patricia!'

  Emma felt a lump in her throat. In her own emotional state Annabel's words were too sharp, too piercing, too desirable to be considered.

  ‘Sometimes it happens,’ Emma said slowly, ‘that two people who get married find that they just can't live together. It's not their fault, it's not anybody's fault. They just can't get along. Then when that happens, if there are any children, it makes it unpleasant for them. Which is unfortunate!'

  ‘But they oughtn't to have children, then,’ exclaimed Annabel, tears springing to her eyes.'

  ‘Children are not always… ’ Emma sought about in her mind for a way to describe what she wanted to say; ‘Annabel, you must try and understand, when your father married your mother they had you before they realized their mistake. Do you see?’ She bit her lip. ‘Be thankful that at least you have one parent who thinks the world of you.'

  Annabel buried her face in her hands suddenly. ‘Oh, Emma,’ she sobbed passionately, ‘I was going to hurt Daddy. He loved me, but I was going away. I was going to leave him.’ She sobbed bitterly.

  Emma frowned, and then, stroking Annabel's head gently, she said:

  ‘Leave him? What on earth are you talking about?'

  Annabel raised a tear-stained face. ‘You don't understand, Emma. It was when… when… when the accident happened!’ She hid her face again.

  ‘Go on.’ Emma's frown deepened.

  ‘I can't. I can't. Oh, I'm so ashamed!'

  Emma shook her gently. ‘Annabel, listen, this is me, Emma! You can tell me. I won't be angry, or shocked. Won't you please tell me?'

  Annabel raised her face again. ‘Do you promise?'

  ‘Of course.'

  ‘All right, then.’ Annabel rubbed her cheeks dry with her fingers. ‘Mummy came to the house that day, the day of the accident. I hadn't seen her for months, and I hadn't seen Daddy for weeks. She… she told me that Daddy had stopped her coming to see me, that he didn't really love me or he wouldn't leave me like he had. She said she loved me. She said she wanted to take me away and make a home for me in England. I said no. I said I didn't want to leave Daddy anyway, but she said I was stupid.'

  Emma's fist clenched. Elizabeth's methods of persuasion were heartless against a four-year-old.

  ‘Well, when I wouldn't go with her she started to tell me what she would give me.’ Annabel's lip trembled. ‘For months I'd wanted a pony, but Daddy said I was too young, that it would be dangerous for me. When Elizabeth started telling me what I could have I asked if I could have a pony, and she said of course, I could have two if I wanted. So I said I would go with her. She didn't let me pack any of my things. She said we would get all new ones, so's not to make anybody suspicious about us going together. I took Patricia, that's all.’ She stopped, her eyes streaming with tears. ‘The… then the accident happened and Elizabeth was killed, and I was so unhappy, and so ashamed. I… I couldn't tell Daddy what I'd been going to do. I couldn't tell him that I'd gone for the pony, you see!’ And Annabel lapsed into uncontrollable sobbing.

&nbs
p; But Emma felt a surge of hope inside her. If what Annabel had told her was true then there was every reason to believe that her blindness was indeed a mental blockage. Poor Annabel, unable to face her father; to see the disappointment in his face when he found out the truth; not wanting to see!

  But for the present Emma comforted her, and soothed her and dried her eyes, then helped her back to the house for lunch.

  After lunch when Annabel was settled for her rest, Emma wandered outside and seated herself beside the swimming pool mulling over in her mind everything Annabel had said. It was true that she had discovered a motive for Annabel's blockage, and a reason behind her refusal to talk about the accident. But was it enough? And now she had found it, what could be done about it? She doubted whether the fact of Damon knowing the truth would miraculously return Annabel's sight to her.

  She lit a cigarette and sighed deeply, her thoughts turning to Johnny and his problems. She had sent him a cable telling him that she had also contacted her bank and authorized them to pay him the money, but she wondered whether she had done the right thing. Even if this solved Johnny's immediate problems, the future looked bleak indeed.

  And how much longer would she be allowed to remain here? Now that Damon knew the whole story he had no reason for keeping her on Sainte Dominique. She had no positive way of knowing what his real feelings were towards her. He still desired her, she attracted him physically, but he had never mentioned love. And even if the miracle happened and he did still love her enough to marry her, she had successfully cut the ground from under his feet. It was no good; she couldn't bring herself to believe that their marriage would work, any more than his marriage with Elizabeth had worked. She knew nothing of his world, of the life he led. As chairman of the Thorne combine he had duties to perform, social gatherings to attend; he needed someone who was smart and witty, sophisticated and worldly, not someone like herself who really only wanted a home and children. She loved him, there was no doubt about that, but she could not believe that his feelings for her, strong though they might be at the moment, could survive for long after his complete possession of her physically. She merely intrigued him because she was, as yet, untouched.