Voice of the Heart (77 page)

Kim bounded onto the terrace, a wide grin spreading across his face. ‘I see the clan has gathered!’ he cried. ‘And sorry to have kept you waiting, Dad, Christian.’ He eyed Doris, went on, ‘I say, you do look fetching, old thing. Absolutely scrumptious, Doodles.’ He stepped back, his eyes running over her admiringly, and pronounced, ‘A Renoir painting.’

‘Why thank you, Kim.’

David remarked, with a dry chuckle. ‘Flattery does seem to be in the air this morning, doesn’t it. Bushels of it. Well, you two young bucks, let’s get off. We’ve rather a lot to do and I don’t want to be late for Bunky’s lunch.’

‘Enjoy yourselves.’ Her eyes followed them as they left the terrace. How attractive they were, and warm and generous natured, and so caring in their individual ways. Doris had long since recognized that she was fortunate, indeed blessed, to be marrying into this family, and as the only child of an only child she revelled in the sense of belonging they imparted, in being one of them. She considered their nickname for her, and a faint smile touched her eyes. She had never had a nickname before. Kim had started it, at first calling her Dodo, and then Doodles. The latter had stuck,
and the name meant a lot to her, for it was a symbol of their complete acceptance and their deepest affection.

After a few seconds Doris got up and walked to the end of the terrace, which commanded a sensational view of the swimming pool, the tennis court, and the Mediterranean shimmering like a glassy and placid sapphire lake in the distance. Shading her eyes with her hand, she scanned the pool area immediately below her, saw that it was deserted. She returned to the chair, picked up her pen, finished the last of the last-minute invitations.

Suddenly Francesca appeared at the top of the steps leading up from the gardens, instantly followed by Diana. ‘Coo-ee!’ Francesca cried, waving.

Doris waved in return, thinking how enchanting the cousins looked in their colourful bikinis, their sun-browned bodies glistening with drops of water, their damp tresses pulled back into pony tails tied with bright ribbons: summer sprites, golden and glorious in their youthful beauty, full of joyousness and lighthearted gaiety, hands linked, laughter on their lips, faces wreathed in smiles as they tripped towards her.

Francesca kissed Doris on the cheek, slipped into a chair and said, ‘Have the Three Musketeers gone adventuring then?’

‘Yes, darling, you just missed them,’ Doris replied. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for my company for the rest of the day. They’ve been invited out to lunch, and won’t be back until late this afternoon.’

‘Oh how lovely to be alone, just the three of us,’ Diana declared, also sitting down. ‘It’s a welcome change not to have the men under our feet. We can have a jolly nice chat about all those feminine things they seem to think are inconsequential and frivolous… such as what we’re going to wear to Victor’s party tomorrow night, and to the dance next week. Maybe you’ll even tell us about your wedding outfit, Doris.’

Doris nodded, and smiled, and before she could respond, Francesca broke in curiously. ‘Who’s asked them to lunch, Doodles?’

‘Bunky Ampher,’ said Doris.

‘Gosh, I didn’t know
they
were on the Riviera. Did Daddy say if Belinda, their daughter, is with them?’

‘No, he didn’t, and we’d better make a point of asking him later. If she is with her parents, she should be invited to the dance, since Earl and Countess Winterton are coming.’

‘Oh yes, you must ask Bel, Doris, she’s a really super girl. Very special actually. A frightfully good sport too. She had to take an awful lot of ragging at Madame Rosokovsky’s dancing classes. Poor thing, she was horrendously fat then. A lot of the girls used to call her Belly Bunter, after Billy Bunter. I thought it—’

‘How unkind,’ Doris cried.

‘Yes, it was. Children
can
be very cruel. Belinda took it in her stride; still, I knew she was miserable. I befriended her, and they stopped. But then they started to call us Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee.’ Francesca wrinkled her nose, giggled. ‘Old Bel had the last laugh on those nasty little wretches. She turned into a raving beauty with a model girl’s figure. She’ll be an asset at the dance, Doodles, since you have such a lot of spare bods.’

Doris nodded absently, thinking how typical it was of the tender-hearted Francesca to defend and protect the underdog. She said, ‘Speaking of the dance, we ought to make a start on the place cards. We’ve about a hundred and seventy-five to do. Here’s a list of names each, and there are pens somewhere here.’ Doris found them under the papers scattered on the table and lifted an empty shoe box from one of the chairs. ‘We can put the finished cards in this.’

Diana, pen poised, cried, ‘I bet I can do fifty cards in an hour, Cheska! I’ll race you!’

‘I’ll top you with sixty, Dibs!’ Francesca threatened, her head already bent.

As the hour progressed, Doris had to admire their industry and speed and concentration. Their pens flew, neither girl spoke, and the only sound was the rattle of the little cards as they were dropped into the Delman shoe box. Doris was much slower, mostly because her mind kept straying to other more pressing matters, and when, at one moment, she paused to peek at her watch, she saw they had been working for almost an hour and a half. She called a halt and said, ‘I think we’ve had it for today, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I’m getting cramp.’ Diana put down the pen, counted the names she had ticked off on her list, announced gleefully. ‘Aha, I’ve done fifty-five!’

Francesca, who had followed suit, cried with a triumphant laugh, ‘I win, Dibsido!
I’ve
done sixty-five!’

‘To my puny forty,’ Doris groaned. She stretched and remarked, ‘We have accomplished a lot though. I noticed Yves bring out the drinks cart earlier. In my opinion we’ve earned a glass of bubbly before lunch.’ She rose and went to open the bottle of champagne. Francesca and Diana drifted after her, giggling between themselves.

The three of them talked about a variety of things whilst they sipped their glasses of Dom Pérignon, relaxing, enjoying the glorious sunshine, the magnificent panoramic view from the terrace. It was Diana who finally brought the conversation around to the impending wedding. She leaned towards Doris and said, ‘Don’t be secretive any longer, darling. Do tell us what you’re going to wear at your marriage. We’re dying to know.’

‘I’m not sure yet,’ Doris said quite truthfully. ‘But it will be by Balmain. I’m planning to go to Paris at the end of the summer to talk to my friend Ginette Spanier, his
directrice
. She always advises me on my clothes, and I know Pierre will come up with something really special. I thought a suit would be elegant, or perhaps a dress with a matching cape, possibly trimmed with fur. I’d like your bridesmaid’s outfits
to be designed by Pierre too, and they will be my gifts to you both.’

‘Gosh, Doris, how generous of you! Do you really mean it?’ Francesca was flabbergasted, but delightedly so, and she gazed at Doris through shining eyes.

‘Yes, of course I mean it. I think my beautiful attendants should have the very best.’

Diana said. ‘What a lovely gesture, Doris. I’ve always dreamed of owning a Balmain. Thank you.’

‘Yes, thanks, Doodles. And shall we be coming to Paris with you? I mean, we’ll have to, won’t we?’ Francesca stated.

Doris smiled warmly. Their youthful enthusiasm was infectious and she went on to exclaim, ‘What else! We’ll make it a fun trip, spend a few days, see the sights. And naturally you’ll both be my guests.’

Both girls thanked her again, and most profusely. Francesca made a small moue and said, ‘It’s such a pity Katharine can’t be a bridesmaid as well, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Doris murmured in her quietest tone and, averting her face, she poured more champagne into their flutes.

Diana, glancing across at Francesca with interest, asked, ‘When is she arriving at Zamir, by the way? I can’t remember what Kim said.’

‘Tomorrow afternoon, and about time too,’ Francesca cried, her voice bright with happiness. She then volunteered, ‘I’ve missed her, and I’m delighted she’ll be here for the party at Le Pirate. It wouldn’t be the same without darling Kath. I expect she’s thoroughly exhausted and I’m going to make sure she has a rest whilst she’s here. That girl works like a little Trojan, and I certainly don’t envy her… having to deal with those film moguls. They’re so demanding.’

Neither of the women commented, and Francesca rushed on blithely, ‘Getting back to the wedding, Doodles, I do hope Daddy will invite Mrs Moggs. When I asked him if he would he gave me the oddest of looks. But after all, she does fall
into the category of family retainers. Well, sort of… and he is having
everyone
from the estate and the village. It will be mean if he doesn’t include her, and I shall tell him so.’

Doris and Diana exchanged amused looks, and both started to laugh. Diana gasped, ‘I hope you’re going to make a new hat for her, Cheska.’

‘That’s a super idea. I must come up with a really chic bit of nonsense. She adores my concoctions.’

‘Ah, but does Uncle David?’

‘Oh, Daddy! What does he know about women’s clothes,’ Francesca pooh-poohed airily, but she had the good grace to laugh.

‘Quite a lot,’ replied Doris, smiling at her fondly. ‘And since it’s so important to you, I shall insist that Mrs Moggs receives an invitation.’

***

‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming a day early, Katharine?’ Kim asked, hovering uncertainly in the middle of the sun room.

‘Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it, darling?’

‘I suppose not,’ he agreed quietly, nonetheless wishing she
had
seen fit to telephone him first. She had been waiting at the villa when he had returned with his father and Christian from lunch with the Amphers, and her unexpected presence had thrown him off balance.

Katharine studied him closely, trying to determine his mood, asking herself if she had made a
faux pas
. Did the English consider it bad form for a person to arrive sooner than planned, and unannounced? No, that was absurd. Francesca had welcomed her excitedly and with enthusiasm an hour before.

‘Well, aren’t you glad I managed to get away today?’ she queried, her magnificent turquoise eyes suddenly flirtatious and teasing.

‘Yes.’ His eyes rested on her. She was sitting on a small
wicker sofa, her face partially shadowed by the giant-sized green leaves of an exotic plant positioned next to it. He thought how delicate she appeared, even frail, in the navy blue linen dress which was tailored and severe, its plainness unrelieved by any adornment. She leaned forward with suddenness, and her face, struck by the sunshine pouring through the windows, was unbelievable in this golden late-afternoon light.

Her beauty, so sublime, so splendiferous, knocked the breath out of him, and he could not take his eyes off her, was held in fascination and beguilement. Eventually he did look away, staring into the space immediately above her dark head, blinking, trying to rid himself of her enchanting—and disturbing—image. After a moment’s reflection, Kim roused himself and stepped up to the seating arrangement. He sat down opposite Katharine and his scrutiny became fixed again, and unwavering.

‘Why did you lie to me?’ he asked in an oddly flat, unemotional voice.

Katharine gaped at him, astounded, and she shook her head, seemed not to comprehend his accusation.

He repeated. ‘Why did you lie to me…
Katie Mary O’Rourke
?’

She sucked in her breath with a small shocked gasp, fell against the sofa jerkily as if she had been pushed. Her radiance diminished and the animation fled her eyes. She was paralysed, unable to speak.

‘That is your
real
name, isn’t it?’ Kim challenged, his voice soft, but dangerously so.

Still she did not respond, and he went on rapidly, ‘Your silence confirms it. I want to know why you lied to me.’ He leaned forward and his eyes revealed his cold anger. He was being relentless and this sickened him, yet he could not help himself. He had to know the truth.

‘I am waiting for an answer. I demand an answer!’

Katharine clasped her hands together to control their trembling. ‘I didn’t
actually lie to you, Kim,’ she whispered finally. ‘I simply didn’t tell you my real name. I haven’t told anybody my—’

‘I’m not
anybody
,’ he snapped, furious. ‘I am your fiancé, albeit unofficially. I proposed to you, and you accepted me. You agreed to become my
wife
. Or had you forgotten that? It would have behoved you to confide in me at that time. Why didn’t you?’

She said nervously, ‘I didn’t think it was very important.’

Kim stared at her incredulously. ‘Not
important
. Good God, what strange concepts you do have. We have established your real name—’ He shook his head in perplexity, peered at her. ‘People who change their names usually have something to hide. What prompted
you
, what do
you
wish to conceal?’

‘Nothing!’ she protested fiercely. ‘I simply dropped O’Rourke and started to use Tempest when I enrolled at RADA. I thought Tempest sounded more glamorous, that it had a lovely theatrical ring to it.’ Katharine was managing to regain a measure of her self-possession; a suggestion of a smile flickered. She brought a lightness to her tone. ‘It’s not unusual for an actress to use a stage name, Kim. In fact, that’s a common practice in Hollywood. Lots of stars adopt new names.’

‘So I believe. Nevertheless, you seem to be missing the real point. You are going to be my wife… Viscountess Ingleton. One day you will be the 12th Countess of Langley, and that in itself is quite a responsibility. It seems to have escaped you that there can be no mystery, or suggestion of impropriety, surrounding the woman I marry. I therefore consider it irresponsible, and unforgivable, that you saw no reason to be direct, honest with
me
. I wonder, did you intend ever to apprise me of the truth? Or were you going to hide it from me for ever, gambling I might never find out?’

‘Oh come on, Kim,’ Katharine exclaimed, staring at him. Aware that she could twist him around her little finger, she
felt she could thus slither out of the corner she was backed into—if she was adroit. ‘Anyone would think I’m a murderer, concealing my crime, the way you’re carrying on. And of course I would have told you. I had every int—’