Sins, p.20
Sins, page 20
He had been feeling guilty about Ella, and, in some inexplicable way, almost responsible for her. She was so ruddy naïve when it came to men, and he had had no right to kiss her the way he had done.
He pushed open the office door. The first thing he saw was the telltale bottle of diet pills, one pill placed ready on the desk itself–Ella’s desk. Oliver knew immediately what they were. All the models used them, and got hooked on them.
He strode across, picked up the bottle and turned to Ella, who stiffened in outrage, trapped in the corner by the kettle as he shook the bottle at her and demanded in angry disbelief, ‘Don’t tell me that you are stupid enough to be taking these?’
‘It’s none of your business what I do,’ Ella told him. He was still holding her precious bottle of pills and she desperately wanted him to put them down so that she could retrieve them.
‘Do you know what these are and what they do–apart from allowing idiotic girls to half starve themselves?’ Oliver challenged her. ‘They’re amphetamines,’ he continued without allowing her to answer him. ‘Speed, that’s what they’re called, because that is exactly what they do: speed you up. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you talk twenty to the dozen, they speed up your heart and your life, and if you’re unlucky–and plenty are–they speed it up so much that it’s over almost before it’s begun and you die young–of a heart attack.’
‘You’re just making that up,’ Ella defended herself, not wanting to admit how much his outburst had shocked her, all the more so because she so clearly recognised the symptoms he had described.
‘No, I’m not. And dying of a heart attack is what you get if you’re lucky. This stuff sends some people mental, paranoid. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent,’ he told Ella with disgust as he flung the bottle into the waste-paper bin.
Immediately Ella rushed across to rescue her precious tablets but, realising what she was going to do, Oliver got there first, standing over the bin and then grabbing her to hold her off, his expression suddenly changing from impatience to grim anger.
Before Ella could stop him he had wrenched up her top to expose her pride and joy, her ribcage with all her ribs clearly on display. It was unfortunate that her breasts were still so large, but she was sure that she could get them smaller if she just kept on dieting.
Furious with Oliver, she tried to pull free of his hold, but he was manhandling her towards the mirror on the wall, holding her in front of his own body as he positioned her before the mirror so that her bare midriff was visible in the reflection.
‘Have you seen what you’re doing to yourself?’ he asked her savagely.
Of course she had, and she was proud of what she had achieved.
‘You look like a skeleton, like someone who has just come out of Belsen.’
It was an awful thing to say to her–comparing her with the poor people on whom atrocities had been committed in the German death camps, and Ella wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
Shaking with temper she threw back at him, ‘Well, at least I don’t look like an elephant, so if you and Laura want to find someone to make fun of and joke about behind their backs, it won’t be me any more, will it?’ She was literally shaking with anger, her face red and her eyes bright with emotion.
Oliver released her and stared at her in disbelief. ‘You’ve done this to yourself because some silly model made a bitchy remark about you?’
‘You agreed with her.’ Ella was beyond caring now about what she was revealing about herself.
‘What?’
‘You agreed with her when she said that I wouldn’t be able to diet. You laughed with her.’
Oliver was shaking his head. ‘I don’t believe this. I don’t care what you think you overheard, I can tell you that there is no way I would ever, ever have agreed that you needed to lose weight. Do you want to know why I know that?’ When Ella didn’t say anything, he continued bitingly, ‘I know it because I just happen to think that you have–had–the most gorgeous, sexy, lush, damnably lustable-after body in the entire Vogue setup. A proper woman’s body, with curves and soft flesh and fabulous tits, the kind of woman’s body that makes a grown man want to fall on his knees and thank God for making it. And now look what you’ve done to it.’
To o angry to wait for Ella’s response, Oliver strode out of the room banging the door behind him, leaving Ella shaking with a mixture of relief and shock.
It was half an hour since Oliver had left the office and Ella was still staring into space in disbelief, her tea now cold and her diet pills, she had to assume, in Oliver’s pocket.
Well, that didn’t matter. She could get some more. And she would get some more because she hadn’t believed a word of what he’d said to her, not one single word.
Oliver stared moodily into his pint of beer. He still couldn’t believe that Ella had been stupid enough to do what she had done and ruin that damn near perfect body of hers, all because of some bitchy model. OK, so maybe she could have spared a couple of pounds, four or five at the most, but to lose the amount of weight she had done…Along with his anger, Oliver felt a renewal of his earlier sense of responsibility towards her.
Ruddy women, especially wet-behind-the-ears women like Ella. The sooner she found some posh toff to marry her and give her a few kids to keep her busy, the better, Oliver decided grimly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Emerald, my dear, you look so hot and bothered, do come and sit down and let me order some tea for you.’
Shaking her head angrily in refusal, Emerald stepped towards her mother-in-law and thrust the letter she had removed from her handbag at her, stating furiously, ‘I received this letter from Alessandro this morning saying that he is going to have to stay in Lauranto at least another month. I want to know what all this is about.’
The princess brushed the letter aside with a gesture that said quite clearly to Emerald that she was perfectly well aware of its contents. Because no doubt she was responsible for them, Emerald seethed.
‘Well, my dear, I should have thought it was perfectly obvious to an intelligent young woman like you, Alessandro has his duties—’
‘Alessandro’s most important duty is to me, his wife,’ Emerald interrupted her sharply.
‘That might apply to an ordinary man, but Alessandro is not an ordinary man, he is a prince, and as such his first duty must always be to his position and his people.’
‘Very well then, if Alessandro can’t come back to London to me, then I shall go to him.’
Alessandro’s mother gave her a coldly appraising look. ‘Ah, yes, your marriage to my son. Conducted in such great haste and secrecy. Not what I would have expected from my son. But of course, Alessandro wasn’t the one who engineered the marriage, was he?’
Before Emerald could answer, she continued, ‘There is a history of hasty marriage in your family, as I discovered recently when I was looking into your background. Your own mother, for example—’
‘What do you mean, you’ve been looking into my family background?’ Emerald stopped her.
‘Well, when one’s son–the heir to a principality and its ruler–ends up married to a young woman unknown to his family, and in the dubious fashion in which your marriage to my son was conducted, naturally one wishes to equip oneself with whatever information is available about such a person–and her family.’
‘My family history is perfectly well known. My own title testifies to the position of my father,’ Emerald glared.
‘You refer, I assume, to the title of Lady Emerald Devenish?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Emerald said impatiently. Her mother-in-law was deliberately drawing out the situation and all she wanted to do was be reunited with Alessandro.
‘You are very proud of your relationship with the late duke, so I am told, Emerald.’
‘With Daddy…of course. He was my father.’
‘Ah. I’m sorry, my dear. If only that were true. Sadly, I’m afraid that it isn’t. You see your father wasn’t the duke; he was a Frenchman, an artist, a painter, who died fighting in the Spanish Civil War.’
For the first time in her life Emerald was lost for words. What her mother-in-law was saying was ridiculous.
‘No,’ she denied vehemently, ‘that’s not possible.’
‘Oh, but, my dear, I’m afraid it is, and not just merely possible, but actual fact. You shall see for yourself. I have all the information, all the papers here.’
She produced a large foolscap envelope, which Emerald stared at as though it were alive, so great was her shock.
‘I must say that when I instituted enquiries into your background I had not dared hope that they would yield such a rich crop. To be frank, it was for evidence of your own immoral behaviour for which I was looking, not your mother’s. Such a dreadful secret to have had to keep all those years, don’t you think, Emerald? Not one but two children born to a nobody, a penniless artist who supported himself by seducing foolish rich old women and amused himself by seducing even more foolish young women, of which your mother was one. No wonder she married the late duke in such haste. She would have been ruined had she not done so. A silly, common little millowner’s granddaughter, who had not understood the rules that governed the society in which she was attempting to move. At best, all she could have looked forward to without the late duke’s name to shield her and give her respectability would have been the life of a rich man’s mistress.’
‘You’re lying! None of this is true.’
Why was her heart pounding so fast? She knew that what Alessandro’s mother was saying couldn’t be true. It was preposterous–impossible for her to be the daughter of a common painter. But Emerald didn’t like the way her mother-in-law was looking at her, mockery shining in the bead-sharp eyes, like a cat at a mouse hole.
‘My father—’
‘I take it you mean the late duke?’
‘He would never have married my mother if…if she had done what you are trying to say.’
‘My dear, it was because she had done what I said and because he hoped there would be a child–a son–as a result that he did marry her. You see, the man you refer to as your father was incapable of fathering a child on any woman.’ She gave a small shrug. ‘There are such men whose preference is for their own sex, and the late duke’s inclinations in that regard were, I understand, well known in certain quarters. In fact, his relationship with a certain young German was considered important enough by Winston Churchill for him to have the late duke virtually put under house arrest. That was after he and your mother had been holidaying on the Côte d’Azur where you yourself were conceived.
‘Since you are now acquainted with the facts, I am sure you will understand how impossible it is that you continue as my son’s wife. Fortunately, since our principality is Catholic and you are not a Catholic, the matter of annulling the marriage will be simple enough.’
Emerald managed to pull her attention out of the maelstrom of shocked and angry thoughts seething inside her head for long enough to recognise the danger of the princess’s words.
‘There is no question of our marriage being annulled.’
‘No question indeed. On that we are agreed. My son cannot remain married to you.’
‘Alessandro loves me.’
Alessandro’s mother laughed, the first time Emerald had heard her do so, the silvery iciness of the sound chilling her own hot and turbulent emotions.
‘Yes, of course he does, but Alessandro has loved many things in his life, with equal passion, only to forget them as he has outgrown them: his toy soldiers, his first pony…He will grieve for you for a while, but naturally I shall ensure that he has plenty of pretty girls around him to distract him and eventually he will marry the daughter of a fellow ruler, someone who understands what her duty to him and to our country is.
‘Now, to the practicalities…’
‘I am not going to let you do this. We are married.’
‘Are you? You gave what in effect was a false name–a name that does not by rights belong to you since you are not the daughter of the late duke. You are a harlot, not a royal bride, you are not of our religion and you are not in possession of my son. I, on the other hand, am in possession of evidence that, if I chose to make it public, would ruin you and your mother for ever. You would lose your title and no doubt with it your inheritance. There would be no proposals or offers of future marriages. Propositions would be all that you could look forward to.
‘I am being charitable, Emerald. I am prepared to keep your mother’s secret and in doing so allow you to keep the title to which you have no right, and your inherited fortune, in return for your agreement to an annulment of your marriage to my son. If, however, you refuse to give your agreement, then you can look forward to what I have just outlined to you.’
‘You must think me a fool. I don’t believe this concoction of lies you have told me. Anyone can produce forged documents, statements…anyone can tell lies.’
The dowager smiled at her. ‘Why don’t you tell your mother what I have told you, Emerald, and ask her to tell you the truth? I will be generous to you,’ she said, getting up and moving towards the door. ‘I shall give you the weekend but if I have not heard from you by Monday lunchtime then I’m afraid on Tuesday morning the papers will be carrying an exposé of your mother’s secret. Fascinating reading, I’d say. Then your marriage to my son will be annulled, anyway. The Prince of Lauranto does not take as his wife the bastard daughter of a millowner and a French artist.’
Emerald returned to Eaton Square to find she had the house to herself, apart from the staff. Her godmother had taken Lydia and Gwendolyn to Gwendolyn’s parents for a short visit, and Emerald had no idea where the sheep shearer was and cared even less.
How unthinkable it was that they should all get to hear of Alessandro’s mother’s ridiculous accusations. Unthinkable and unbearable, just like the accusations themselves. They couldn’t, they must not be true. And yet deep down was a doubt, a fear, an anger that maybe they were.
Emerald looked towards the telephone. She needed to speak with her mother, but not over the telephone, with heaven alone knew who listening in to their conversation.
There was no choice. She would have to go to Denham.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was late in the evening when Emerald’s train finally pulled in to Macclesfield station. Fortunately a lone taxi driver was still in place at the rank.
‘Denham, and hurry,’ she told him as she stepped into the car. She didn’t want to arrive to find that the house was locked up and everyone had gone to bed.
‘Well, Your Ladyship, I mean Your Highness,’ the housekeeper greeted her when she opened the door to Emerald’s impatient knock.
‘I want to see my mother–where is she?’ Emerald demanded, her expression hardening as the door to the sitting room opened and her mother came into the hall.
‘Emerald!’ Amber exclaimed. ‘What on earth…? Is everything all right?’
‘There’s something I want to know. In private,’ Emerald added, looking pointedly at Mrs Clements.
‘What about the cocoa? Shall I make an extra cup for Her Highness?’ the housekeeper asked Amber, ignoring Emerald.
‘No, that’s all right, thank you, Mrs Clements,’ Amber smiled. ‘I’ll see to that. You go on up to bed.
‘Now, Emerald,’ Amber said quietly as soon as the housekeeper had gone upstairs, ‘come with me to the kitchen, and you can tell me what it is you’ve come here for whilst I’m making the cocoa.’
‘I don’t want cocoa,’ Emerald objected. ‘I—’
‘Perhaps not, but Jay and I do.’
Whatever it was that had brought her eldest daughter here at this time of night it was obviously important–at least to Emerald herself.
Jay, who had been out with his dog, looked as astonished as Amber had when he came back into the kitchen and saw Emerald there.
Her smart London clothes looked out of place in the homely warmth of the kitchen, just as Emerald herself did, but then Emerald had never thought of Denham as home, despite the fact that she had lived there for so long. No, Denham wasn’t good enough for a girl whose father was a duke, or so Emerald had always claimed. Would her daughter be happy now that she had her prince and his title? For Emerald’s own sake Amber hoped that she would. She suspected that to Emerald, happiness would always have a different meaning than it ever had done to her.
‘I want to speak to my mother alone,’ Emerald told Jay arrogantly. She didn’t want her stepfather there to defend and protect her mother as he always did. She would have a far better chance of getting the truth out of her without Jay around.
She saw the look that her stepfather gave her mother and the small nod she gave back to him. She saw too that he was not happy about leaving them together. Emerald had never been able to see or understand why people treated her mother the way they did, fussing over her and going out of their way for her.
‘Emerald, what is it? What on earth has brought you here at this time of night?’ Amber asked quietly as soon as they were alone.
‘I need you to tell me the truth. Who was my father?’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Not still taking those ruddy pills, are you?’
Ella shot Oliver Charters a bitter look. ‘What if I am?’
‘Then you’re a fool,’ he told her bluntly, ‘and I never had you down as that.’
Guilt and chagrin fuelled Ella’s antagonism towards him. She’d got a new prescription from Dr Williamson, but she’d cut down to just one of the pills a day instead of the two she had been taking. Well, at least some days she only took one.
The fashion editor’s PA came into the small cramped office, bringing a halt to their conversation as she riffled through some papers on one of the desks and then made a triumphant sound, having found what she was looking for before exiting the office, leaving Ella stuck by her own desk whilst Oliver lounged against the door.
