Spell of the Island (7 page)

‘Paul. . . .’ She murmured his name huskily, her willing mouth parted and tempting. His eyes were burning embers of passion above her, and she felt that this time there would be no drawing back for either of them. Lifting her, he carried her to the couch and laid her down, then stood there staring at her face.

‘Do you admit that you lied just now when you implied that you weren’t drawn to me physically?’

She hesitated, would dearly have loved to deny she had spoken an untruth, but the desperate longing within her for fulfilment brought from her quivering lips the admission that she had in fact lied. The twisted smile of triumph was hateful to her, and she knew she ought to have the strength of will to rise up from where he had laid her, but she could not.

His voice was that of the victor as he said, ‘So at last you are honest with yourself. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in the natural desires of the flesh.’ He paused a moment. ‘You and I need each other, Emma. You must stay for a while and—’ he stopped, frowning as he glanced at the door on which a timid knock had sounded. Emma hadn’t heard it, but instinct prompted her to sit up, to straighten the neck of her dress and her skirt.

Paul shot her a glance as he said brusquely, ‘Come in.’

Louise entered, eyes dull, lifeless. She looked from one to the other, bewildered in some way she could not understand.

‘What is it?’ demanded Paul shortly. ‘Jeremy?’

She shook her head.

‘I expect he’s asleep. He never wakes once he does go to sleep.’

‘Then what brings you back here?’

Emma moved uncomfortably, wondering if her sister guessed anything. She, Emma, had managed somehow to appear cool and collected—a miracle considering the tumult that was raging within her!

‘I wanted to come back. I knew I’d not sleep, and as Emma was here I thought you wouldn’t mind?’ She looked up at him, lashes damp and stiff. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Paul was furious; Emma could see that and she said at once, ‘As a matter of fact, Louise, I was just leaving. I’m very tired and am going to bed.’ Rising from the couch, she turned, at the same time avoiding Paul’s eyes. Nor did she look at him when she said, on reaching the door, ‘Good night, Monsieur Fanchette.’ She met her sister’s gaze. ‘You had better come with me,’ she advised and deliberately took hold of her arm.

Paul said nothing, and Emma did wonder just what his thoughts were. Was he as frustrated as she? Of course, he must be. Yet even as she mounted the lovely balustraded staircase, Emma was owning to being relieved that she had been prevented from an act which she would almost immediately have regretted.

Once in Louise’s bedroom she asked her why she had been crying.

‘You know very well why. Oh, Emma, I’m so down I could kill myself!’

‘Don’t say such things, Louise!’ Emma moved to put her arms about her shoulders. ‘Think of Mother if nothing else. She’s unhappy enough already. Look, you must leave—we both must! I insist—’

‘Leave, and never see him again? I’d die—my heart’s broken anyway—’ Louise burst into a paroxysm of weeping, and try as she may Emma could not console her. She found herself cursing the man to whom she herself had almost surrendered. Yet was this misery which Louise was suffering entirely his fault? He could have been kinder, yes; but Emma rather thought that might have made things worse, as then Louise would naturally have surmised that there was some real hope for her.

‘Try to compose yourself,’ begged Emma, leading Louise to the bed and sitting her down. ‘I can’t leave you like this.’

‘Go to bed, Emma. I shan’t sleep anyway, so you won’t do any good by staying. Oh, wasn’t he horrid with me this evening? And why should he call you Emma and me—me b-by my surname? If he should get to like you, I really would kill myself, for I’d not be able to bear it!’ She turned to bury her head in the pillow, and Emma found
herself
in tears. ‘Please leave me,’ beseeched Louise. ‘I’m no fit company for anyone! Besides, I want to be on my own!’

‘But you didn’t want that just now when you came down to the salon,’ Emma reminded her.

Louise sat up again and made some attempt to dry her eyes.

‘If you must know, I hated the thought of your being alone with Paul.’

Silence reigned for a space, with Emma reliving that passionate interlude and thanking God that
Louise had thought to knock on the door and had not just walked in.

And in any case, what if she had come a minute sooner? it didn’t bear thinking about, for the result would have been an irreparable rift between her and Louise, and perhaps between Emma and her mother.

‘I do wish you could forget him—’

‘That’s a stupid thing to say and you know it! If you’d ever been in love, you’d know just how I feel! I’ve nothing to live for, Emma, nothing!’

Trying to comfort her was a futile and thankless task, and at last Emma listened to her sister’s repeated pleas and left her alone.

But she did not go immediately to her room. She went down again to the salon. Paul was listening to classical music, played in low notes from a tape recorder. He glanced up, and she gave him a chill look in return.

‘Louise is distressed—’ That was an understatement if ever there was one! she thought. ‘You meant it when you said you’d dismiss her, and we’d be able to go home together?’

He made no answer but merely set his jaw.

‘You promised,’ persisted Emma, ‘and an honourable man would not go back on his word.’

‘So you believe me to be an honourable man?’ His tones were suave and low.

‘I’m asking you to dismiss my sister from your service!’

‘Come to me tomorrow sometime, and I’ll give you my answer.’

So he was still hoping for an affair. She supposed he had every cause for optimism after what had
happened less than an hour ago. His face was set, impassive; she knew it would be futile to argue with him and she turned to go.

He said softly, ‘You do realise that your complete lack of embarrassment reveals much to me, don’t you?’

She coloured faintly.

‘I have admitted, I think, that—that you—draw me physically. But I shall not stay and be your mistress—’

‘If your sister hadn’t come in, I’d have had the promise from you.’

‘A promise I’d have broken—yes—believe me,’ she went on fiercely. ‘I’d have regretted my—lapse within minutes.’

He shrugged impatiently.

‘Go to bed, Emma. We’re both tired. See me in the morning, and we’ll have a long talk.’

The following morning there was a miraculous change in Louise.

‘I was stupid last night,’ she owned self-deprecatingly. ‘Try to forget it, Emma. I feel much better this morning.’

Emma looked at her with a hint of suspicion.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘You’re not putting on an act?’ Emma was a little frightened, for she could not easily forget her sister’s threat of suicide.

‘An act?’ Louise’s surprise was genuine, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. ‘No, of course not. I really do feel much better.’

‘Then I’m glad.’ A pause and then, ‘I shall have to write Mother today. I’ve been putting it off, but I
can’t do so any longer.’ There was a question in the words which Louise answered at once.

‘Tell her I’m much happier.’

Emma said nothing. She felt extremely anxious about Louise’s reaction to her dismissal—presupposing Paul kept to his word, that was. Emma now had some cause for doubt, after his prevarication last night.

She went along to his study as soon as Louise had taken Jeremy to school.

Paul was writing at his desk and did not at first look up when, after knocking, Emma entered without waiting for an invitation. She glanced around, noticing the tapestries along one wall, while two other walls were lined with well-filled bookcases. The wide, low window opened out to a verandah, and the view was breathtaking—over the magnificent grounds of the chateau to the palm-fringed beach and the sapphire blue lagoon. A graceful white-sailed yacht was silhouetted against the azure sky—Paul’s yacht in which he took part in various regattas.

She could picture him, dressed for the part, tall and handsome and efficient. Did he ever take women on a pleasure cruise? she wondered. Louise did not seem to know much about him at all, but then he had always kept her at a distance—or tried to.

‘You asked me to see you this morning,’ she said, moving from the door into the centre of the room.

‘About my dismissing your sister, yes.’ He was not in the best of moods; in fact, he reminded her of the stern, austere man she had first met, when he
seemed so rigidly formidable that she had wondered if he ever unbent.

Emma had certainly seen him unbend!

‘It’s important for everyone concerned.’ Emma’s voice was firm, decisive. ‘You did promise,’ she reminded him, and a frown appeared on his brow.

‘I would have all the trouble of finding someone else,’ he pointed out. ‘Nannies are not easy to get, because the girls here can find jobs that give them more freedom. It was for that reason that Jeremy’s parents advertised in the English papers.’

She looked at him across the desk. He had not stood up immediately on her entry, but he was rising now.

‘You’re going back on your promise, then?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And the real reason is because of me.’ She waited but he made no comment. The frown was still creasing his brow. ‘What good this attitude will do you I cannot fathom. I’m leaving at the end of the fortnight.’

‘You said you might stay longer.’

‘There isn’t anything to stay for.’ She moved restlessly, angry with him for breaking his promise.

‘Given time,’ he said with a growing frown, ‘I could persuade you to stay.’

‘Well, you don’t happen to have the time,’ was Emma’s rather tart rejoinder.

His dark eyes met hers, fixed and deliberate.

‘You know in your heart that you’d like to stay; you’ve admitted to being physically attracted to me, as I am to you, so why this attitude? Life is for living, Emma. I promised you’d be richer when you left—’ For some reason he cut abruptly and Emma sent him
an interrogating glance, waiting for him to continue. But he was now looking down at the leather-bound writing pad on which rested the paper he had been writing on when Emma entered the study. ‘I’m busy, Emma, and have no more time to give you. The question of Louise is closed as far as I am concerned. However, if she herself does want to break the contract there is little I can do about it. I have, nevertheless, quite categorically refused to release her, so she will not be given a testimonial if she does decide to leave.’

Emma sighed deeply.

‘You’re fairly confident that she won’t leave of her own accord, aren’t you?’

‘Emma,’ he said with some asperity, ‘I have told you I’m busy. Please leave—and this time, kindly close the door behind you.’

Chapter Five

The next few days passed far more pleasantly than those that had gone before. Louise seemed to be making a determined effort to pull herself together, and in consequence she was more like her old self. Emma wrote to their mother and hoped she had eased her mind a little. Louise also attended more conscientiously to her small charge, but Paul also gave him a little of his time, and on one occasion Emma joined them in a game of hide-go-seek in the spacious grounds of the chateau.

On another occasion Paul asked Emma if she was intending seeing a few interesting places and to her surprise said that Louise could have a couple of days
off in order to show her around. One of the Creole maids, Sarogni, would look after Jeremy when he came from school.

‘It’s good of Paul to let me off, isn’t it?’ Louise and Emma were ready to go out, both looking lovely in bright cotton frocks and sandals. Emma had managed to acquire a honey-tan which added to her attractiveness, and Paul, coming upon them as they came from the chateau, halted for a moment; and his eyes were flickering over her from head to foot. And if Louise noticed that he gave her far less attention, she made no comment when once again she and Emma were alone, walking now towards where the small car was parked. The use of this had been Louise’s only for taking Jeremy to school and bringing him home again. But another concession made by Paul was that the two girls could have the car for sightseeing, and in fact, any time they wanted to go out in the evening.

‘I’m a little mystified by the change in Paul.’ Louise voiced her thoughts after starting up the car and driving it to the high, wrought-iron gates which terminated the long, wide avenue of flame trees which were an especial feature of the chateau grounds. ‘I never expected him to let us have the car.’

‘It was good of him,’ was all Emma returned to this. She knew that Paul was doing it for her sake, having realised that she had seen little outside the grounds of the chateau and the private beach curving to the south of it. He had not mentioned anything more about an ‘affair,’ and she wondered if he had forgotten all about it. His manner was mostly
indifferent; he had not invited the girls to dinner after that one occasion.

‘We’ll go to Port Louis first,’ Louise had said earlier, and now she was driving towards it, having been there several times with Mrs. Winnick who, Emma gathered, was a charming woman, far more human than her brother.

Soon after entering the sunlit city, Louise parked the car, and the first place she took Emma to was the palm-lined Place d’Armes, which was off the lovely main square and where Emma enjoyed sitting in a garden cafe and admiring the French colonial buildings erected in the eighteenth century.

‘I didn’t realise how very French Mauritius is,’ she remarked after having noticed some of the street names.

‘Neither did I before I came. The French claimed the island early in the eighteenth century and called it the Ile de France, and it became a prosperous French colony, so the language, customs and religion are still here, although English is the official language. It’s attractive, isn’t it—being so French, I mean?’

Emma nodded her head.

‘Yes, I love it.’

‘Could you live here?’

A pause. She wondered what Louise would have to say were she to tell her she could live here . . . as Paul’s mistress.