The Velvet Glove (13 page)

For no logical feeling at all Kate felt a strange sensation of apprehension creep over her.

And then she saw her.

Cassie was standing only a few yards from the chasm. Through the fragile light her figure was a half-dimmed shape, an
d she appeared perfectly still – weirdly static – like an unmoving shape of the elements.

‘
Cass!’ Kate called sharply. ‘
Cass
– what are you doing there?’ Cassandra turned. After a pause she swept her hair from her face, tossed it back over a shoulder, and came forward. She moved gracefully and, as she drew near, Kate saw she was smiling. She was wearing a long green embroidered skirt and a white high-necked blouse under a loose blue cape. The little cross falling from her neck on its silver chain glittered momentarily in a transient beam of thin sunlight.

‘
Hullo, Kate. I didn’t expect you. I—’ She paused before adding, ‘I’ve just seen her.’

‘
Who?’

‘
The nun. She’s beautiful, you know.’

Feeling vaguely shocked and irritated at the same time Kate said,
‘Oh, Cass! how can you be
sure
she’s a nun. There’s no convent or women’s priory round here anymore. You must be wrong. Have you spoken to her?’

‘
No. But—’

‘
Well, then! Someone told me the other day there’d been an artist staying at that large farm near Bradgate for quite some time. I expect it’s her. Artists do sometimes dress rather eccentrically. And apparently she does a lot of walking up the Beacon and round the forest.’

‘
I
know
she’s a nun,’ Cassandra persisted. ‘Think what you like. Why does everyone doubt my word?’

Kate sighed.
‘Oh, well, have it your way. I suppose it doesn’t matter. If you want to believe she’s a nun, that’s it. But Jon must think it pretty odd.’

‘
Jon? Why should he? Anyway, he doesn’t pry into who I meet. He’s interested in my painting. He always was.’

‘
Is he? And what about your marriage?’

‘
Well, what about it? We’re happy, if that’s what you want to know.’

‘
Then why on earth don’t you go back to the Dower House?’

Cassandra
’s colour faded leaving only two brilliant spots of scarlet on her cheek-bones when she stopped suddenly and faced her cousin tight-lipped with her eyes wide and staring, both hands clenched. ‘Because I
hate
that place –
hate
it, and you’ve no right to upset me. The doctor said I should have peace.’

Kate tried to pacify her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I was wrong to say anything. But it seems so strange.’

‘
That’s because you’re married to Rick. If it was Jon you’d understand – he’s very sensitive; we’re not like you two.’

‘
No, you’re certainly not,’ Kate remarked with a touch of acerbity, and had a mental picture of Rick’s reaction should she behave like Cass.

There was silence for some moments as the girls turned into the path to the Studio. By the time they got there Cass
’s angry mood had passed, and she appeared contrite.

‘
It was nice of you to come really,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about my temper. It’s so important to keep serene – whatever happens.’ Her words, and the soft manner she spoke them, for some unpredictable reason sent a little shiver down Kate’s spine.

‘
I’ll come again, unless you’d rather I didn’t.’

‘
No of course I don’t mind. It’s nice seeing you, so long as we don’t argue.’

Kate forced a smile.
‘I’ll do my best. Now, can I look at your most recent paintings?’

‘
They’re over there.’ Cass pointed to a corner. ‘The new portraits, the one on the easel, isn’t finished yet.’

Close inspection of the watercolours revealed beside delicate detail, surprising suggestions of hidden faces and forms, which although only vaguely def
ined – probably because of that – were proof of Cassandra’s extraordinary imagination. This of course was at the root of the nun business, Kate told herself on the way back to Beechlands. Cass must realize herself surely that the demure face of the gentle woman in the painting was either a creation of her own mind, or of someone she’d met on her rambles and used as a subject.

Kate intended to take a second walk to the Studio the following week, but was diverted by a dramatic upheaval that put all other matters temporarily out of her mind.

Rick informed her one evening that he had a friend coming for the evening meal the following day – a Richard Owen from Wales.

‘
So tell Mrs Rook to see Cook has something tasty for the meal – tasty but straightforward without frills,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange the wine. It’s quite an occasion. We’ve decided to take a trip together to the States about April. Maybe he’ll take up shares in the
Review
, and his mining interests over there. So do your best to put on a good show, darling.’

Kate stared at him. She was looking particularly lovely in shimmering sea-green with just a faint shadowed suggestion of the cream bosom beneath the low-cut silk of the bodice.

‘
What
did you say? A
trip
? To America, do you mean?’

He glanced at her warily.
‘That’s right. Business purely. It won’t be for long, eight days each way on the water and a week or so there. No more than a month altogether.’

‘
But—’ She broke off, her mind whirling, then continued, only half believing what she’d heard, ‘Do you mean without me?’

He put on his most placating smile, and took her hand.
‘Oh, come now, sweetheart. What would you do on your own over there, knowing nobody, no woman to talk to—’

‘
Not even Mrs Linda Wade?’ The question was out before she knew it.

His face darkened slightly.
‘Now Kate, I thought we’d settled the place of Mrs Wade in our routine. No questions, no petty jealous ideas – don’t start creating a scene at this stage of our marriage. No, as far as I know, Mrs Wade will
not
be on the
Oceanic
when we sail. If she is it will be through no suggestion of mine. As I’ve just pointed out it will be an all-male business trip.’

‘
But you’re always having business trips to somewhere or other, London or Wales, and – and all over the place. And I never go anywhere – never – Rick.’ Her voice softened, became pleading, she looking up at him with her large eyes limpid and pleading. ‘Please, oh
please
,
do
let me come. I wouldn’t be in the way. If you love me—’

He studied her seriously.
‘I
do
love you Kate. Much much more than you realize. But it’s really not convenient or suitable to have you with me this time. Another thing – and this is
most
important: there are the twins. I wouldn’t want them to be left entirely to the care of servants for
four
weeks. Felicity isn’t a strong child and needs a mother at hand in case of any problem. You must see that. Don’t you?’

He took her hand. She pulled it away sharply.
‘Yes, I see. Oh, I see. You’re using me. You
always
use me, and give me nothing in return.’

She put a hand to her mouth, aghast at her outburst. He put both hands on her arms, gave her a quick shake and forced her to look at him.

‘So I
use
you, do I? – and give you nothing. What about this?’ He indicated the rich exotic interior. ‘The endless hours I’ve spent pandering to your whims and wishes – in spite of your secret lusting for fancy words and God knows what else from your fair-haired Galahad. Nothing?’

‘
I didn’t mean that. It was just – frustration.’

His mouth tightened.
‘Then I advise you, Mrs Ferris, to try curbing your frustrations, and concentrate on your manners, or I may have to resort to my own methods of controlling a wilful wife.’

She bit her lip, released herself, and walked to the window. Her handkerchief
became a small ball in her hand. Why couldn’t he understand? But he seemed able to take everything so lightly – to make a decision, and it was
fait
accompli
– done. The clash of words had shaken her. Her throat was tight with emotion. She struggled for composure, and was steeling herself to appear calm and uncaring when he came up behind her. She sensed rather than heard his presence there with a shock of awareness almost electric.

Firmly he turned her round and stared into her face, looking deep into her eyes. A glisten of unshed tears glittered on the thick velvet lashes, spreading gradually into tormented pools of darkness.

‘Oh, Kate,’ he said, ‘what am I to do with you? Spank you, or love you?’

He shook his head slowly, then gently at first his lips were on hers, and her arms were reaching to his shoulders.

That moment held a wonder and magic that was completely new to her. It was then that she first knew, without admitting it, that she loved him.

At the end of March he went to America.

5

Kate did her best not to show distress at Rick’s departure, knowing the granite streak in his character would not appreciate any undue display of unnecessary emotion. For him the brief four weeks would be an occasion of exhilarating business contacts needing all his concentrated expertise in assessing lucrative financial possibilities.

The adventurer had been stirred by the vision of subtle mental duelling ahead. Whatever line he took, in whatever project, he meant to be on the winning side. The world was quickly changing; Britain still remained the great industrial power, but in the United States were the seeds of the New World, and if possible he meant to be a step ahead in both.

He could not think of Kate without a rush of longing in his heart and loins, so he did not think of her overmuch. But with Kate it was quite different.

She resented the abrupt parting, and the fact that he could, with such apparent blitheness, sail away leaving her at Woodgate with a house of dull female servants except for the one man, and two uncompanionable babies who were generally asleep or wailing and wanting to be fed or carried round the room in the arms of the nanny whenever she approached.

She told herself constantly she loved them, and she did, on the rare occasions when they were quiet and could even smile like beaming cherubs of fiction. But because her time with them was so severely monitored by the nurse or the maid, she had little chance of really getting to know them.

Once or twice she took them in the carriage to Beechlands, but on each time Felicity had wind and, despite Emily
’s protests, on the insistence of Nanny Green, they returned after only an hour to Woodgate.

The truth was, Kate decided, her own presence with the children seemed to be superfluous. Perhaps when they were older
she would feel differently, but it had been quite ridiculous of Rick to make the babies an excuse for leaving her behind. Strangely, since her marriage, she had got to know few local people. Most were either too old or too immature to be interested in a young mother. The rest either belonged to the select little hunting crowd with whom she had nothing in common, or to the few shopkeepers in the village whose limited means kept them aloof from being on familiar terms with the wealthy Mrs Rick Ferris. The farming fraternity came nearest in any possible companionship. But they were always too busy, and anyway, Kate thought, you couldn’t call farmers’ wives exactly stimulating conversationally, and she hated thinking of animals being killed, or being made to realize that a playful cuddly young lamb seen playing in a field one day might be served up on a dinner plate the following week.

So her only real diversions during that period were as they had b
een before her marriage – shopping sprees.

She ordered a new outfit to be made by a
dressmaker in Lynchester. It was to be a costume of deep blue silk with a fitted waist meant to win admiration and approval from Rick when he returned from America. She had not forgotten his comment of ‘a fine figure of a woman’, and was already dieting in a mild amateurish way.

She also kept to her determination for regular physical activity every day, and when she felt in the mood went over to see Cass in her Studio.

There were several different routes from Woodgate to the site, one leading half-way down a lane bordering the encampments used by gypsies on their travels between Larchborough and Lynchester.

On a fine late April morning following her short daily session with
the twins – just twenty minutes which was considered ample time by both Nanny and Mrs Rook –Kate set off in this direction wearing light boots and a loose yellow cape over a rust-coloured dress patterned with small white daisies. Her curiosity concerning the rift between her cousin and Jon had in no way abated, but rather increased in Rick’s absence. So she was a little nonplussed and frustrated to arrive there after a two-mile walk to find Jon present. Cass was looking vaguely troubled, and Jon, she thought, more gaunt than when she’d last seen him.

‘
Oh, hullo,’ she remarked rather lamely. ‘I hope I’m not intruding. Don’t worry though, I’m not staying. I do a good deal of walking these days.’ There was a short pause, ‘for my figure you know.’ She nodded with an attempt at lightness.

Jon ma
naged a humourless smile. ‘Ah! – the young matron a la mode.’ His gaze studied Kate’s form through tired, heavy-lidded eyes. ‘A pity you can’t wave a magic wand and give Cassandra a few pounds.’

‘
There’s no need to be personal,’ Kate said sharply. ‘I’m off again anyway. I’ll look in another day, Cass.’ She turned and was out of the door again when Jon sprang forward, pushed by and stopped her. ‘Oh, don’t be so touchy. I was leaving when you appeared like a warm breath of air in an icy atmosphere. For Pete’s sake try and cheer Cass up. I’ve done my best, but as usual it’s landed me in the dog-house.’ He pulled a cap from a pocket of his jacket and slammed it on his head.

‘
Bye-ee. Nice to see you looking so gorgeous.’ The next moment he was off down the path, and had turned a corner into the lane.

With f
eelings bordering between reluctance and irritation Kate turned and joined Cassandra.

‘
What’s the matter with Jon today?’ Kate said. ‘Or was it just that he was annoyed at being interrupted?’

‘
No, not that,’ Cassandra answered. ‘He gets moods sometimes, so do I.’

‘
No wonder really,’ Kate remarked tactlessly. ‘It’s such an odd life you two lead.’ When Cassandra remained silent, she continued in cautious wheedling tones, ‘Can’t you tell me all about it. Cass, what happened that night – the night you had the dream – or whatever it was? Perhaps you’d feel better. It does help sometimes, having someone to confide in when you have a problem.’

‘
I’ve no problem,’ Cass told her coldly. ‘I’m just – frustrated. She generally comes to the pool, in the early afternoons. I’m trying to finish that portrait, but she hasn’t turned up today, and I’ll have to get back to Beechlands soon or Aunt Emily will make a fuss.’

‘
You’re talking about your – about the nun, I suppose?’

‘
Who else? I’ve no other model.’

‘
You could have though – there are squirrels and deer, and—’

‘
I don’t
want
squirrels and deer. I want her, and I wish you wouldn’t interfere. Jon was like that before you came today. He’s always
wanting
. He wants this – he wants that – never what
I
want—’

Kate stifled the desire to make an angry comment and said gently,
‘Well, Cass, perhaps it’s natural. He loves you; don’t forget that. And I thought it was the same with you.’

‘
It
was
, and
is
. I do love Jon. But—’ All vitality appeared to drain from her suddenly. She looked tired and exhausted, almost ill. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I feel so lost sometimes – lonely; and yet I have to be alone, because—’ Her voice faltered. ‘Oh, you couldn’t possibly understand. I don’t always understand myself. But I
do
know that when I’ve finished the painting things will be better. They must be. Or—’

‘
Yes? Or—?’

‘
Oh, I don’t know. Forget this stupid conversation, Kate. I’ll have to be getting back presently. Are you going my way?’

‘
No, it would be a long way round. But we can go down the lane together. Have you got your cycle?’

‘
Yes, it’s at the back.’

‘
All right then. Whenever you’re ready.’

Five minutes later the Studio door was safely shut, and the two of them were walking down the lane with Cassandra pushing her bicycle. They parted at the point where the path wound from the lane through the trees towards Woodgate, and as she watched Cassandra pedal down the winding stretch of roadway leading towards Beechlands, Kate noticed the glimmer of red and gold vehicles through the interlaced branches of chestnut trees.

So the gypsies were back.

She hoped Cassandra wouldn
’t get too involved with them, although a diversion to take her mind off the supposed nun for a bit might be beneficial.

She only saw her cousin twice more during the following fortnight. On the first occasion Cassandra appeared unusually happy and lighthearted; she
’d finished the portrait which was quite compelling in a thoughtful ethereal way, Kate thought. Cass’s attitude to Jon was very different from the last time they’d met. He’d become her legendary heroic lover again.

‘
Darling Jon,’ she sighed, when Kate enquired after him. ‘He’s only just left. We
are
so terribly in love, you know. Just fancy! He kissed my hand today, and called me his “fairy child” and “princess” – imagine it. Isn’t it wonderful?’

Yes, Kate could
imagine
it. But she didn’t believe it for one moment, and she found the sentiment slightly ridiculous, and rather frightening. What was happening to Cass? What
had
happened? Was she losing her reason?

The thought worried her, wit
h the result that a week later – a week before Rick’s return from America, she made another visit to the Studio.

This time it was quite different.

Cass was not there.

It was a still afternoon with a thin yellowish sky and a faint ground mist, more like autumn than spring. But the earth held a sweet tangy odour suggestive of young growing things.

Everything was very quiet. From the distance, mingled with the occasional chirp of a bird came the rise and fall of gypsy music – of violins that faded as Kate stood listening.

‘
Are you there, Cass?’ she called moving to the Studio entrance. There was no reply. She pushed the half-open door wider and stared.

The interior was a jumble. Canvasses and paintings lay strewn about the floor; Cass
’s blue cloak lay over a chair, a stream of golden liquid trickled from a small bottle in a corner, and at the far end a figure was slouched into a lump surrounded by pieces of a slashed painting – the portrait.

Aghast, Kate went in, and the figure
moved, staggering to its feet.

Jon.

A Jon distraught and angry-looking, with a shining large penknife in his hand. His fair hair had fallen over one eye. Kate thought at first he was drunk. Then he spoke. His voice was throaty with exhaustion, but cold and calculating, holding a frightening finality in it

‘
So it’s you,’ he said. ‘Well, as you see, I’ve done it. Done it at last. Destroyed the wretched thing.’ He put a hand to his head. ‘For God’s sake sit down or do something. Speak, can’t you – tell me off in any bloody way you like – but move, speak – don’t just stand there.’

He staggered slightly; Kate went towards him.

‘Oh, Jon.’

‘
That’s right – Jon, Jon, the noble squire’s wicked son – destroyer of pictures and seducer of women. But then that wouldn’t be true, would it? Cassandra’s unseducable, and you, Kate – what about you?’

He lurched and almost fell. Kate put out an arm and steadied him.

‘Sit down,’ she heard herself saying as firmly and quietly as possible. ‘Rest a bit, and then – tell me about it, and get it off your chest. What’s happened? Where’s Cass?’

He flung himself on to the divan and sat there with his head in his hands before facing her.

‘I’ve no idea where Cass is,’ he answered. ‘I’ve waited and waited for hours but there’s no sign of her – only that damned nun creature and that’s gone for good now, hasn’t it?
Hasn’t
it?’

‘
Yes, yes. I suppose so,’ Kate answered gently.

‘
You suppose? Ah, well! Yes – I guess that’s all anyone
can
do about Cass and her – obsession. Just wonder.’

For a moment his expression changed and was solemn, holding a great sadness in his
blue eyes when he continued, ‘It’s killing us both, you know. And for what reason? What does she get out of it all? It’s only pretence, you know – imagination – this thing about the nun. I’ve made enquiries from everyone around here, and no one else has seen or heard of her. Maybe she exists in that big book on the floor there below the cupboard – I don’t know. I’ve intended to tear it up, get rid of it. But now – now that holier-than-thou face has gone perhaps there’s no need.’

‘
No, I’d leave it,’ Kate said quietly. ‘You don’t know whose book it is; it could be your father’s and valuable. But the portrait! Would it be best do you think to pack it right away somewhere, perhaps bury it or throw it in the pool? Then if we tidied up the place and both left before Cass came – or anyone – it could look as though someone had just come in and stolen it. If Cass knew the truth there’s sure to be an awful scene and all sorts of enquiries. You don’t want that, do you?’

‘
God, no. I only want one thing. I only ever did, since I first saw her. I want Cass back. Cass as she was at Isabella’s dance wearing the dress you lent her.’