was too much color in his face and a mild, slightly glazed look in his eyes. Liliane kept glancing at him as if to reassure herself that he was all right. She herself looked superb. Her shining amber hair and gold-brown eyes were richly complemented by the bronze of her gown, trimmed with elaborate black velvet ribbons. She made Elsa feel as dowdy as a moment before she had considered Olga to be. To judge from the appreciation in Cahoon’s face, he was of the same opinion.
More words of apprehension and encouragement were exchanged, then the door opened again and Minnie swept in. She was vivid as a flame in hot scarlet, her dark hair piled gorgeously on her head, adding to her height. Her skin was flushed, and her bosom a good deal more accentuated than Elsa would have dared to copy, although she was easily as well endowed by nature. But curves had little to do with Minnie’s allure; it lay in her vitality, the challenge given by the boldness of her stare, the grace with which she moved.
There was a constant air of risk and bravado about her as if she were always on the edge of something exciting.
“Good evening,” Olga said quietly. No one answered her.
Minnie smiled, ignoring Julius, two steps behind her. “Ready to sail into the attack?” she said brightly. “Are you ready to be charming to Lady Parr?” she asked Cahoon, then, before he could answer, she turned to Elsa. “Or perhaps you had better do that. It will confound her completely, especially after your last encounter.” She gave a small, meaningful smile.
Elsa knew exactly what she was referring to, and felt the heat burn up her cheeks, but she had no defense. She ached to be able to belittle Minnie, just once to tear that glowing confidence to pieces.
She might despise herself afterward, but it would be wonderful to know she could do it.
“And Papa can bewilder the Princess of Wales, while Simnel and the Prince talk to Lord Taunton,” Minnie went on. “It really doesn’t matter what you say to the Princess. She will pretend to be interested, and not hear a word of it.” She shot a withering glance at her husband. “Perhaps we should let Julius talk to her?”
The innuendo was so sharp for a moment no one responded.
Elsa felt fury rise up inside her. Cahoon had often told her she should remain silent at such moments, but the words rose to her lips.
“A good idea,” she agreed sharply. “He knows how to conduct himself and exercise loyalty and good manners. He will not embarrass her by showing off.”
“Of course not!” Minnie retorted instantly. “He will be utterly predictable.”
“To whom?” Elsa snapped back. “You couldn’t predict rain with a thunderstorm.”
Minnie looked her up and down, a faint curl on her lip. “If it is a cold, gray day and has rained all morning, I can predict that it will rain all afternoon!” she said with arched eyebrows and a cool, pitying look at Elsa’s gown.
Elsa longed for something crushing to say, something that would hurt Minnie just as much, but nothing came. There were times when what she felt for Minnie was close to hatred.
Julius was smiling. Was it to hide pain, or had he simply not understood her implication? Or was that what he did to conceal embarrassment? “Have you ever seen a dry lightning storm?” he inquired of nobody in particular. “You get them sometimes in summer.
Spectacular, and rather dangerous. In Africa they can set the grassland alight and the fires consume thousands of acres.”
“How destructive,” Olga murmured uncomfortably.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But the new growth afterward is marvelous.
There are some plants whose seeds only germinate in the extreme heat.” He looked very quickly at Elsa, his eyes soft for an instant, then away again. Or did she imagine it?
Minnie was temporarily confused, aware she had been bettered, but not certain how it had happened. She smiled dazzlingly at Simnel. “I think storms can be rather fun, don’t you?”
He was uncomfortable, as if somehow guilty, but he could not drag his gaze from her.
Olga moved even farther away from him, her face almost color-less. Her body was all angles, as if she might be clumsy enough to knock over ornaments balanced on the side tables. Had she any idea how naked her feelings were?
Elsa looked at Julius and saw the pity in his face. For an instant it was the most beautiful thing she knew. He was utterly different from Cahoon. Cahoon had no patience with the weak. Mercy was an impediment to the march of progress. She had heard him say so many times, and inside herself she had longed to protest. What about the beautiful, the funny, the kind, which might also be vulnerable?
She was afraid of Cahoon. She knew it with a sort of sickness that made the thought of eating repulsive. How could she get through the evening without fumbling, dropping knives and spoons, making stupid remarks because her mind was on the woman in the cupboard, and the knowledge that one of these men had killed her? Was it Simnel, because he lusted after Minnie and loathed himself because he could not control it? Did he imagine that killing some poor woman who awoke the same in him would make anything better? Or Hamilton Quase, for God knew what reason? Because he was drunk and frightened and suddenly lost all sense? Perhaps the woman had laughed at him. Elsa tried to imagine it. It was pathetic and disgusting. She hoped profoundly that that was not true. She refused to think it could be Julius. That was unbearable. What a pity it could not have been Cahoon.
What a terrible thought! How could she have allowed it into her mind? She had lain in his arms. Once she had even thought she loved him, imagined awakening in him a tenderness toward her he had felt for no other person in his life.
How naive! The only person he had ever loved was Minnie, and even that was equivocal. She was too like him, too strong to be controlled, and he resented that.
The footman announced that dinner was about to be served.
They all trooped after him from the guest wing to the magnificent state dining room hung with portraits of past members of the royal family, framed in ornate gold. It was far too big for such a gathering and Elsa wondered why the Prince of Wales had chosen it. The red curtains and carpet warmed the almost cathedral-like vault of the pale golden walls and domed and fretted ceiling. Still it dwarfed them, and the table seemed lost in its enormity. The chandeliers glittered; the light on the silver and crystal was blinding. The white mantel and white tablecloth were as virgin as snow. The scent of lilies on the table reminded her of a hothouse. Everywhere there were more footmen in livery, gold buttons gleaming, white gloves immaculate.
The Prince and Princess of Wales welcomed them. She looked magnificent in cream and gold and blue, blazing with diamonds. She was a beautiful woman, with classic features; calm, remote, and slightly bemused.
Elsa curtsied and smiled, and wondered how much the Princess was aware of anything going on around her. It must be a purgatory to be deaf, never knowing quite what was happening, like seeing everything through thick glass. See but never hear, know but don’t touch, never quite understand. How often do people get frustrated and simply not bother trying to communicate anymore?
Did she even know that there had been a murder? Probably not.
Perhaps she always lived on the edge of everything.
Lord Taunton and Lady Parr were shown in and presented, then introduced to everyone else. She was dressed in plum-colored silk. It was very rich and complimented her skin, though it clashed hideously with Minnie’s scarlet. It amused Cahoon. Elsa could see it in his face.
Dinner was announced and they went to the table in exact order of precedence, the Princess of Wales on Lord Taunton’s arm, followed by Elsa and Cahoon. She saw the flash of discontent in his eyes. He would like to have been in Taunton’s place, but he had no title, no status except that of money, and all the money in the world counted for nothing here.
Next came Hamilton and Liliane, Simnel as elder brother, with Olga, then Julius with Minnie, and lastly the Prince of Wales with Lady Parr.
The first course of julienne soup was served, or alternatively fillet of turbot and Dutch sauce, or red mullet. Elsa ate very sparingly. She knew there would be entrees of meat or fowl, then a third course of heavier meat, possibly including game, maybe venison at this time of year. Then there would be a fourth course, probably some kind of pastry dish-fruit pies, tarts, custards-and lastly a dessert of grapes or other fresh fruit, and after the meal, cheese.
It would drag on for hours before the ladies would withdraw and the gentlemen pass the port and cigars. The gentlemen would talk of Africa and the railway; the ladies, if they spoke at all, would simply gossip.
