Dark Summer Dawn (8 page)

Lisa intervened hastily. 'Just how far have these wedding plans got?' she asked, her brow creasing. 'Wouldn't it have been better to have had it at Easter? It would have given us more time, and the weather would have been more reliable too.'

Julie gave a negligent shrug. 'Getting married at Easter is a terrible cliché. And I hope it does snow. I love it, and I could have a velvet dress.'

'Well, that's one of the things we shall have to think about,' Lisa said. 'I suppose you've asked Mrs Langthwaite to make it for you? Have you chosen the material and had any fittings yet, because…'

'As a matter of fact I haven't.' Julie twisted her sapphire and diamond engagement ring in a little restless gesture. 'I—I don't want her to make it for me, Lisa. There's a boutique I know in Skipton. We can get a dress there.'

'But, Julie,' Lisa stared at her, 'Mrs Langthwaite dresses all the local brides. Won't she be very hurt?'

'Oh, I shouldn't think so. She always has more work on hand than she knows what to do with. She'll hardly miss me among so many.' Julie's tone was offhand, but Lisa knew instinctively that there was little point in pursuing the argument, even though she was amazed by Julie's decision. Mrs Langthwaite was famous for her wedding dresses, all of which were designed and made for each individual bride. Julie's plan to wear a dress bought from a shop, no matter how glamorous, would be bound to be interpreted locally as a snub, she thought ruefully.

Further questioning elicited that as the day and the time had been fixed, Julie had at least chosen and Ordered the invitations.

'Not that there'll be many guests,' she added mulishly. 'I don't want my wedding turned into a public show, and if I restrict the numbers on my side, that means the Bain-bridges will have to do the same.'

'I see,' Lisa said quietly. Or at least she was beginning to, she thought wryly. Julie had sent out her
cri de coeur
because she was already locked in combat with her future mother-in-law over the arrangements and wanted reinforcements in her support. It wasn't a situation that boded well for the future, and she hoped that Julie and Lydia Bainbridge would come to terms with each other, otherwise life would be made very difficult for Tony who loved them both.

She wanted to shake Julie and tell her forcefully that Lydia Bainbridge would be far more valuable as a friend than as an enemy, but she knew it would be useless and only increase Julie's resentment more.

'We're having the reception here,' Julie continued. 'But there's no problem about that because I've booked a firm of caterers from Harrogate and they're arranging everything. They've sent some sample menus, but I simply haven't had a moment to look through them yet. Daddy's organising the champagne, of course,' she added.

Lisa looked at her in some bewilderment. Julie spoke as casually as if she was planning any ordinary party instead of her own wedding reception which was to crown what should be the happiest day of her life.

She tried to make her own tone encouraging and interested.

'Well, tomorrow we'll draw up some lists and see what still has to be done. I think studying those menus is a priority, don't you? And your dress. Once that's chosen we'll have a better idea of the sort of thing that I should wear.'

'You could wear a sack and look beautiful,' Julie said. 'Now there's a novel idea. If Melanie had been here, you could have both worn sacks and Melanie could have put hers over her head.'

'Now that's enough,' said Chas with sudden quelling authority. 'The girl is Tony's sister after all, and should have some claim on your affection because of him. So spare us the spiteful remarks, young woman.'

'Yes, Papa,' Julie said with exaggerated meekness, and Chas shook his head at her in mock exasperation.

'Have you told Lisa about the flat?' he enquired.

'Oh—no, not yet,' Julie said offhandedly.

'Flat?' Lisa queried. 'Does that mean you've found somewhere to live?

'Oh, I didn't have anything to do with it, but—yes, we do have somewhere. There's a big disused stable block at the rear of the Bainbridges' farmhouse. Mr Bainbridge is converting it—well, he's been doing so for months, but when Tony and I decided we were getting married his parents immediately offered it to us. It was an offer we couldn't refuse.'

'How marvellous!' Lisa tried to infuse into her tone some of the enthusiasm that was definitely lacking from Julie's. 'Aren't you thrilled?'

'Naturally,' Julie said. 'Particularly by the fact that I won't actually have to live at the farmhouse, which seemed the only alternative. It's going to be beautiful, of course, with no expense spared. Tony and I are really incredibly lucky.' She gave Lisa a brilliant smile. 'You will do my make-up for the Great Day, won't you, Lisa? Is that the Amber stuff you're wearing? It's absolutely beautiful. I adore their perfume. Every time I go into Schofields, I ask the girl to spray me from their tester.' She giggled. 'One day she's going to get wise to me, and I shall actually have to buy some.'

'No need to go to those lengths,' Lisa said drily. 'I have a spare bottle you can have.'

She would have liked to have asked more about the flat, but it was clear that Julie wanted the subject changed.

When tea was over, Lisa went up to her room, pleading weariness. She was physically tired, and it was pleasant to kick off her shoes and lie down on top of her bed, but her mind was too restlessly active to allow her to relax.

She was troubled by the undercurrents that she had sensed downstairs from Julie's attitude. There was obviously something wrong, and she could only hope that it was a bad case of bridal nerves and nothing more.

At the same time she was thankful that Julie and Chas as well did not share her sensitivity, because she knew she wasn't nearly a good enough actress to pretend that all was well and normal between Dane and herself over the next weeks. She would have to try and make her avoidance of him not too obvious, of course, because the last thing she wanted was for Chas in particular to notice that there was something wrong and to be upset by it. She supposed the most she could hope for was a kind of armed neutrality, and the prospect disturbed her.

She dozed lightly and fitfully until it was time for her to have her bath and start dressing for dinner. She had deliberately brought fewer clothes than she would normally have done in order to emphasise to herself and anyone else who was interested that she had no intention of staying for any length of time. But she had included a silky jersey dress in an attractive shade of topaz, long-sleeved and with a deeply slashed vee neckline. On an impulse she brushed her hair out to hang in loose silken waves on her shoulders, and added a pair of her favourite tiger's eye studs to the lobes of her ears, and a matching dress ring for the third finger of her right hand.

She was satisfied with her appearance as she gave herself a last long critical appraisal in front of the mirror before making her way downstairs. She was the Amber Girl come to life again, and that was as good a façade as any to shelter behind.

None of the people waiting downstairs would recognise in her the rather shy schoolgirl that most of them had known her as. She took the few long, deep breaths she usually practised before she went in front of the camera and then walked out of the room and downstairs to the drawing room.

The room was lit by lamps, and a roaring log fire was banked up on the wide hearth. Lisa stood in the doorway for a moment, looking around. James Dalton she recognised instantly, as blond and as fine drawn as ever. Dress him in the clothes of a bygone era instead of the conservative dark suit he was actually wearing, and he would be the archetype of a Romantic poet, she thought, suppressing a faint smile. On the other, hand, Tony Bain-bridge, who was chatting to him, looked just what he was, a prosperous landowner and farmer without a poetic bone in his body. He looked sleek and well fed, whereas James had a lean and hungry appearance.

Celia Dalton was occupying the sofa, chatting to Chas with great admiration. She looked elegant and expensive, Lisa thought, and as fragile as a Dresden figurine, an appearance that was totally deceptive. Of all the people in the room, Celia would be the last one to break.

At that moment, Chas looked up and saw her. 'Ah, Lisa, my dear! Come in, come in. You know everyone, of course. Celia—you remember my stepdaughter?'

'Oh, yes.' Celia glanced up with seeming casualness, but actually missing nothing. It was the sort of look that would have made most women instantly check their tights for ladders, but Lisa took it in her smiling stride as she came forward. 'Of course, you're quite a celebrity now.'

She made it sound faintly disreputable, Lisa thought wryly, but then for Celia it probably was. In Celia's world, you only appeared in magazines, sitting on the stairs at hunt balls, or in newspapers, in the Birthday Honours list.

'She's more than that,' James put in, surveying her with undisguised admiration. 'Why didn't you warn us, Lisa, that you were going to turn into such a beauty?'

Lisa laughed, too accustomed to such remarks to be either flattered or embarrassed by them. 'Perhaps I didn't know myself—or better still, I wanted to surprise you all. Hello, James—Tony. It's good to see you again.'

'It's more than good to see you,' Tony said frankly. 'As a sort of brother-in-law, do I get a kiss?'

He aimed for her lips, but by turning her head slightly, Lisa offered him her cheek with a smiling grace which robbed the action of any offence.

Dane said, 'What can I get you to drink?'

She hadn't looked for him. She hadn't betrayed the least awareness of his presence, but she had known all the same that he was there from the moment she had stood in the doorway. Even when she had been quite young, she had this ability to pick him up on some kind of invisible antennae. Perhaps it was always like this when you hated someone, she thought. Perhaps the force of your emotion made you ultra-sensitive to their presence, and their absences.

She asked for a dry sherry, her voice light and casual, and he brought it to her. She took the glass by the stem, avoiding the most fleeting contact with him, and saw his mouth twist a little as though he knew her intention. His antennae were presumably working too, she thought as she sipped her sherry and told Celia smilingly that yes, it was incredibly exciting being a model but also very hard work.

Even though the party was all her own idea, Julie came down late. Her apologies were made with a smile, but perfunctory, as if it was quite usual for the daughter of the house to be the last to arrive. She made an eye-catching picture in a dress the colour of ripe cherries, but she was wearing rather too much make-up, Lisa's expert eye noticed.

Dinner was excellent in its usual understated way—clear soup, followed by sole in a creamy sauce, and then rare roast beef with golden baked potatoes.

But no one, with the possible exception of Chas and Celia, did it justice, Lisa thought. Tony, of course, was far too busy, trying to talk to Julie whose attention like some brilliant dragonfly swooped restlessly from one to another at the dining table. James who had been placed next to Lisa only picked at the food on his plate, so perhaps his lean and hungry look was for real, she thought drily. He chatted to her charmingly on a number of topics, but Lisa had the impression that the real James was elsewhere;, hidden perhaps in some secret part of himself and quite inaccessible. She thought she remembered a warmer, more outgoing personality, but perhaps the new James represented what several years of marriage to Celia could do.

Nothing that Celia had said or done during dinner or earlier in the drawing room had gone anywhere towards reducing the animosity she had always aroused in Lisa, and yet Lisa would have been hard put to it to explain even to herself exactly why Celia made her feel as she did. In her early days in modelling she had encountered more malice and cattiness than Celia had ever displayed at her worst. At school she had met bigger snobs and far more spoiled rich girls. Usually, she could be tolerant, yet Celia had always managed to catch her on the raw.

Until now, she had always believed Julie had shared her feelings, or even exceeded them. In her younger days she had been downright rude to Celia on several occasions when the older girl had been more than usually patronising. Yet this evening Julie had been almost gushing, raving about Celia's dress, admiring what was, apparently, a new hairstyle.

Curiouser and curiouser, thought Lisa, hoping that Julie would display similar tact when dealing with her new family, but somehow doubting it.

When the three of them had returned to the drawing room when the meal was over and were waiting for coffee to be brought in, Celia said, 'Have you decided where you're spending your honeymoon yet?'

Julie gave a faint shrug. 'We've discussed it. We haven't made any firm decision.'

Celia gave the gurgle of laughter which Lisa had always loathed.

'Well, a bed's a bed no matter where you are, darling. Anyway, honeymoons are terribly overrated. I know mine was. We went to Nassau and James got food poisoning rather typically.' She shrugged. 'So I went ahead and had a marvellous time water-skiing.'

'It must have been very enjoyable,' Lisa said drily.

Celia's pale blue eyes flicked over her. 'Well, there was little point in both of us being miserable.' She turned to Julie. 'So make sure, darling, that you find somewhere where you can be entertained even if the bridegroom turns out to be a washout.' It was said with a smile, but with an underlying sting in the words, as if Celia was indicating that she expected Tony to be a blundering, insensitive disappointment to his young wife, and Lisa waited for Julie to leap to his defence.

But Julie remained silent, although Lisa saw two bright spots of colour that had nothing to do with the blusher she had applied had appeared in her cheeks, and that her eyes were stormily brilliant.

Lisa got to her feet. 'Shall we have some music?' she asked hastily, moving towards the tall antique cabinet which housed the hi-fi unit and records.

'If you wish.' Celia leaned back against the sofa cushions.