chapter Eight
Cicely felt her excitement mount as the steam train pulled into Marienbad station. It was three years since she had last visited the spa town, and she was looking forward to seeing her aunt and cousin again.
How fortunate she was to have such a generous aunt, she thought, as the puffing and blowing train ground to a halt. Not only had Aunt Hilda made her welcome whenever she had visited, but had always insisted on paying her fares. Without this generosity, Cicely knew she would never have been able to visit.
And there was Aunt Hilda now!
Cicely waved at her aunt, who was standing on the platform beside Cousin Sophie. Her aunt, seeing her, raised her hand in greeting, and Sophie waved wildly, full of the exuberance of youth.
Mrs Lessing was looking exactly the same as the last time she had seen her, thought Cicely as she stepped off the train, being a fine looking woman in her forties. Her mouse-brown hair was pulled back from her face and arranged in a simple knot at the back of her head. Her slim figure - the product of vigorous walks through the surrounding pine forests, which even now were perfuming the air with their fresh, clean scent - was encased in a high-necked blouse, a long skirt and a tailored jacket. Ever practical, she carried an umbrella, which was often needed in Marienbad, whatever the time of year.
Sophie, in contrast, was looking completely different to the last time Cicely had seen her. The three intervening years had brought about a definite change. Gone was the gawky fifteen-year-old schoolgirl, and in her place was a beautiful young woman with elegantly-coiffured golden curls and the most immaculate clothes. Her dress was definitely Parisian - probably, thought Cicely, a creation of Maison Worth - and had an unmistakeable air of chic. Setting it off was a plumed hat that was perched most becomingly on the back of her pretty young head. But for all her cousin’s new-found maturity, Cicely was pleased to see that she still had a mischievous sparkle in her eye, for without it the plan to catch Goss could not go ahead.
‘Cicely.’ Her aunt greeted her affectionately, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘It is lovely to have you here.’
‘It’s lovely to be here. I’d forgotten how beautiful Marienbad is,’ she said, looking round at the pine forests which could be seen rising all round the town and stretching off into the distance
‘You must have plenty of walks now you are here. You are looking a little peaky,’ said her aunt, surveying her closely. ‘But then, after your father’s death, it is not to be wondered at.’
‘Cicely!’ Sophie could not contain herself any longer. ‘It seems like an age since I last saw you. I am so glad you are here. And in such mysterious circumstances. Your letter said everything and nothing. What sort of help do you need? It all sounds very exciting.’
Cicely laughed at Sophie’s enthusiasm. ‘I will tell you all about it, but not on the station platform.’
‘Oh, no, of course not. We have to get a taxi to the villa, as we don’t have a motor car,’ she said, as a porter took Cicely’s luggage and loaded it onto a hand cart. ‘I keep trying to persuade mother to let me learn to drive but she says it isn’t suitable.’ Sophie looked at her mother in exasperation. ‘It seems to me that nothing interesting ever is.’
‘You, miss, are becoming fast,’ said Cicely’s aunt reprovingly. ‘Your father would turn in his grave.’
Cicely’s Uncle Harry had died some years before, in Marienbad, where the family had originally moved for the good of his health. It had been a wise idea, and had worked well for a time, as his health had shown a distinct improvement, but unfortunately he had then succumbed to a bad bout of pneumonia and had sadly died. His wife and daughter, however, had continued to live in Marienbad, where they had made many friends.
‘Have I changed since you saw me last?’ asked Sophie, as the three of them went out of the station and hailed a taxi.
‘Completely. You were a girl when I saw you last. Now you’re a young woman.’
Sophie was pleased to hear this, and together the three of them climbed into the taxi. Once Cicely’s luggage had been loaded they drove through the pine forests to the villa, which was on the outskirts of the town. It was a large house, with a long veranda running along the front. Pleasant gardens surrounded it, and beyond them lay the forest.
‘You will want to refresh yourself,’ said her aunt, as she showed Cicely up to her room. ‘Come down when you are ready. You know the way.’
Cicely nodded: the villa was almost as familiar to her as the Manor house or the Lodge.
Once her aunt had gone she threw open the window of her bedroom and breathed in deeply, savouring the delicious scent of pine. She looked out over the tree-clad slopes and down onto the town in order to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She could make out the Kirchenplatz, the famous square in which the Hotel Weimar stood, and by standing on tiptoe she could just see the hotel itself. Being late August, she knew the King would be in residence, and she imagined him in his personal suite, reading his newspaper or taking a glass of the health-giving waters for which the town was famous. It was strange to think of being so close to her King. She might even see him, if she was lucky, on one of his frequent strolls.
Turning away from the window she washed and changed. She put on a long mauve skirt and a lace-trimmed blouse that her aunt’s maid had by now unpacked, then she went downstairs. Her aunt and cousin were there, reading the newspaper.
‘Good. You’re here. I’ll ring for coffee,’ said Mrs Lessing. She paused before pulling the bell. ‘That is, if you wouldn’t rather have tea? Though I wouldn’t if I were you, it is no better than the last time you were here. The water simply doesn’t seem to make good tea. But it makes delicious coffee.’
‘Yes, coffee, thank you,’ said Cicely.
The servants were efficient, and before long a silver coffee pot was set before Mrs Lessing, complete with sugar and cream. Mrs Lessing poured, and Cicely sipped it thankfully. After her journey, she was in need of something sweet and hot.
‘It was good of you to have me, aunt. Especially at such notice,’ she said as she embarked on her second cup of coffee.
‘Nonsense. We are delighted to have you. You have livened up our summer. We are very quiet as a rule, and it is good to have a little excitement from time to time.’
‘I can’t wait to hear all about it,’ said Sophie. ‘Your letter was very mysterious. Why do you need my help? Though I am very glad you do, it will be so nice to be useful for a change. Life here is very pleasant, but it is very dull. What is it exactly that you want me to do?’
‘Let Cicely finish her coffee in peace!’ Mrs Lessing remonstrated with her daughter.
Sophie pulled a face but said, ‘Very well.’ She turned to Cicely. ‘But as soon as you have finished I want to know all about it.’
‘And you will, I promise,’ said Cicely, as she put down her cup.
‘But not until you have had a hot meal,’ said Mrs Lessing to Cicely. ‘You have had a long journey and you look tired, my dear.’
Cicely felt that it was true, she did not have the energy to explain everything just at present.
‘But I can tell you something,’ she said to Sophie. ‘There has been a robbery at the Manor.’
‘A robbery?’ asked Sophie, alert.
‘Nothing of value, I hope?’ asked Mrs Lessing with a frown.
‘No. In fact, the robbery was foiled. But it could have been very serious.’ Cicely explained about the attempt to steal Miss Postlethwaite’s necklace.
‘That is very unfortunate,’ said Mrs Lessing, ‘but quite frankly, Cicely, I don’t see what it has to do with you.’
Cicely went on to explain that the attempt had been perpetrated by the Honourable Martin Goss, who had evaded capture by slipping the necklace into Gladys’s apron and thereby framing the girl.
‘Not Gladys Vicars?’ asked Mrs Lessing, startled.
‘Yes.’
Mrs Lessing’s brow darkened, for she had visited the Manor on a number of occasions and knew Gladys and her family well.
‘Gladys Vicars is a hardworking, good sort of girl, you were right to get involved, Cicely,’ she said. ‘We can’t let men like Martin Goss behave in such a scandalous fashion, or where would it end? There is only one place for him, and that is behind bars.’
‘And that is where we intend to put him.’
‘We?’
There was a pause. Then Cicely said, as nonchalantly as possible, ‘Mr Evington and myself. We are working on the matter together.’
Mrs Lessing gave Cicely a penetrating look. ‘Mr Evington is the new owner of the Manor?’ she asked.
Cicely flushed, much to her annoyance, for her aunt was a perceptive woman and sometimes saw more than was convenient. ‘Yes.’
‘I see. He is young?’ asked Mrs Lessing.
‘Not especially,’ Cicely replied awkwardly.
‘How old is not especially?’ asked Sophie with interest.
‘He is about thirty,’ said Cicely, raising her eyes, and looking frankly at her aunt. Fortunately her flush had subsided, and she was once more in control of herself.
‘Is he married?’ asked Sophie.
Cicely felt in danger of flushing again. ‘No. Though I believe he has an . . . attachment.’
‘What a pity,’ said Sophie. ‘I am in need of a husband, and living at the Manor would be just the thing.’
‘You are in need of nothing of the sort,’ snorted her mother. ‘You are far too young to be married. It is hardly any time since you put up your hair and put down your skirts. Mr Evington is far too old for you.’ She gave Cicely another penetrating glance, and the words but not for you, hung unspoken in the air. ‘However, his private life is none of our business, except as it influences the present situation.’ She relaxed her gaze. ‘You have told us that he is to be involved in this venture,’ she said to Cicely, ‘but not why.’
Cicely explained about his sister, and her treatment at Goss’s hands.
‘Mr Evington’s sister is a maid?’ asked Mrs Lessing, startled.
‘Was a maid,’ Cicely corrected her. ‘Mr Evington has only recently made his money, through business, and one of the first things he did was to rescue his sister from service.’
‘Family loyalty,’ said Mrs Lessing, nodding in appreciation of this side of the situation. ‘An estimable quality. Undervalued by the young, but not to be taken lightly nonetheless.’ She was thoughtful. ‘So Mr Evington has a personal interest in catching Goss.’
‘Yes. He has been very helpful with the practical aspects of the plan. In fact I would not be able to carry it out without him.’
‘And now it is time to dress for dinner,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘And after that, I suggest an early night.’
‘I won’t be able to sleep,’ said Sophie.
‘You had better try,’ said her mother. ‘You will need your wits about you tomorrow, from all I have heard. We all will, it seems.’
The following morning the three ladies rose early, and after a breakfast of coffee and hot rolls they set out for the café where Cicely had already arranged to meet Alex. She had promised Sophie she would explain her plan when they were all together and after many grumbles Sophie had at last accepted it.
Marienbad, unlike many fashionable places at half past nine in the morning, was already busy. The guests, who were there for the good of their health, rose early, taking the waters of the Kreuzbrunnen before walking on the promenade. The delightful sound of splashing fountains could be heard, and the cheerful strains of a band.
‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is here,’ said Cicely appreciatively as they strolled along the promenade.
Suddenly she stopped. A distinguished gentleman was walking towards them, flanked by two other gentlemen. Although there was nothing unusual in his dress, which consisted of a dark blue coat, white trousers and a grey felt hat, there was something in his carriage that commanded attention. One glance at his noble face, with its fine eyes, dark moustache and distinctive white beard, told Cicely that she was in the presence of her king. Yet there was nothing ostentatious about him; no pomp and circumstance. He was strolling along the promenade in the most natural way.
‘Ah! You’ve seen him,’ said Cicely’s aunt.
Cicely tried not to show that she was awe-struck, and forced herself to carry on walking, but as they reached the king and he wished her aunt a polite, ‘How do you do?’ she could not help feeling delighted. Even better, he addressed a few words to her, asking her how she was enjoying her visit to Marienbad, before strolling on again.
‘I hoped I might meet him, but I didn’t really think I would,’ said Cicely. ‘I did not see him on any of my previous visits.’
‘He did not used to come here so often,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘But now he comes every year. He is a familiar sight, strolling along the promenade, and he always says a few words in the politest way. He likes to be incognito, as far as possible, when he is here, and does not even use his title, but he is unmistakeable nonetheless.’
‘No, he doesn’t like to use his kingly title,’ said Sophie naughtily, ‘but that doesn’t mean he travels as a nobody. Although he is not King Edward when he is here, he is the "Duke of Lancaster" instead.’
Mrs Lessing looked at her daughter reprovingly. ‘The King is a very busy man, and he is entitled to call himself anything he likes. His visits to Marienbad offer him a brief respite from the pressures of his position, and as to calling himself the Duke of Lancaster, I dare say being a mere Duke is as close to being a normal, everyday person as he will ever get.’
They continued talking about their encounter with King Edward as they made their way to the far end of the promenade, where Alex was waiting for them just outside the café. Cicely’s pulse began to beat more quickly at the sight of him, all thoughts of her meeting with King Edward driven from her mind. But she made sure that her inner turmoil did not show on her face. It was unfortunate they had been thrown together by their desire to catch Mr Goss, as it brought to the surface the very feelings she had been trying to suppress, but nevertheless it must be endured.
Cicely performed the introductions, and after greeting each other politely the four of them strolled to a nearby café. They sat at a table that was set apart from the others as they did not want their conversation to be overheard. They ordered coffee and talked inconsequentially until it arrived.
Once the waiter had withdrawn, Sophie said, ‘Now, Cicely, I am absolutely bursting to know. Tell us, how are we going to catch the thief?’
Cicely took a sip of the hot coffee then turned to Alex. ‘I will rely on you to remind me if I forget anything.’
He nodded, and she began.
‘I have already told you that we are hoping to trap Mr Goss, and that Mr Evington is going to help us to do it. You also know that Mr Evington has already made an attempt to do so, but that the attempt failed. My plan is to tempt Mr Goss with easy pickings again - this time a valuable tiara - but to do it in such a way that he will feel completely safe about taking it, because it will not appear that he is stealing it.’
Sophie and her mother looked mystified.
Alex said, ‘I think you had better start at the beginning.’
‘Very well. My plan is for you to give a dinner party, aunt, at which you, Sophie, will be wearing an expensive tiara. You will flirt with Goss and you will impress upon him the fact that you are very wealthy and also very dim.’
‘No.’ Mrs Lessing was firm. ‘I will not have a daughter of mine behaving in such a way.’
‘But, mother, it is only a game,’ said Sophie.
‘One which half of Marienbad will see,’ retorted her mother.
‘Not if I am discreet.’ Sophie leant towards her mother and placed a pleading hand on her arm. ‘I promise I will only flirt with him when no one else is watching me, if you are concerned. It is all in a good cause.’
‘As to that,’ said her mother, ‘I don’t see how flirting with Martin Goss is going to make him steal anything.’ She looked at Cicely. ‘What has Sophie’s behaviour to do with anything?’
‘I am just coming to that,’ said Cicely. ‘After dinner, Sophie, having impressed him with how silly she is and having given him plenty of opportunity to see what a valuable tiara she is wearing, will engage him in conversation. She will then claim she is overheated.’
She turned to Sophie.
‘It will be better if you let him suggest a walk,’ she continued, ‘but if not, you are to gaze longingly out of the window and remark on the pleasures of moonlit strolls, until he offers to take you outside. Once the two of you are alone you must pretend to swoon. Now this is the difficult part, and will require practice. As you swoon, your tiara must fall from your head.’
Sophie looked surprised, but then said thoughtfully, ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult. Not if I practice first. And I suppose if it won’t come off, I can always raise my hand to my overheated brow and knock it off - discreetly, of course.’
Cicely nodded. ‘Once you come out of your swoon,’ she continued, ‘you are to ask him to escort you to a nearby bench. When he deposits you there, you are to ask him to fetch your mother. Thus the scene will be set for the theft.’
‘Ah. I am beginning to see,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘By presenting him with a valuable tiara lying on the ground you present him with an irresistible temptation ‘
‘And the perfect excuse if he is caught,’ said Sophie triumphantly. ‘If he is discovered with the tiara in his possession, he will not need to plant it on anyone else, he will only need to claim that he was retrieving it for me, as it fell from my head when I swooned.’
‘Exactly,’ said Cicely. ‘And he can do so safe in the knowledge that you will agree with him.’
‘Once he has retrieved it, however, we think he will take it to a fence here in Marienbad, a man who buys jewels with no questions asked,’ said Alex, entering the conversation. ‘I have made some enquiries and discovered that Goss has done business with this man before, and so I have hired a couple of private detectives to follow him once he has taken the tiara. When he tries to sell it, we will catch him red-handed.’
‘And the names of everyone who has ever been framed by him will be completely cleared,’ said Cicely.
‘An excellent plan,’ declared Mrs Lessing roundly. ‘And so you want me to arrange a dinner party at the villa?’
‘Not at the villa,’ said Cicely. ‘We would like you to hold it at the Kurhaus instead.’
‘It is a popular venue for dinners, certainly, but why?’
‘Because your villa is outside town. If Goss steals the tiara there, then he might wait until the following day to dispose of the tiara, or even take it elsewhere to sell, making it far more difficult for us to catch him in the act of selling it. Whereas if he steals it outside the Kurhaus, he will be so close to the fence’s apartment that he will think he can have the whole transaction - the theft and the sale - over with in a matter of fifteen minutes. It will surely prove an irresistible temptation to him, and make it easier for us to catch him.’
‘Let us hope so. Now, to details,’ said Mrs Lessing practically. ‘When is this dinner party to take place?’
‘A week on Friday.’
‘A week on Friday?’ asked Mrs Lessing, horrified. ‘Cicely, it’s impossible. I can’t arrange a dinner party at such short notice.’
‘I realize it’s difficult,’ said Cicely, ‘but you know all the local dignitaries here, aunt, and I am sure you can manage to arrange things. And as for the invitations, well, the Season in Marienbad is so short that no one can give much warning of their festivities, so people are used to attending events at short notice.’
‘I will be providing the tiara,’ said Alex. ‘I will bring it to the villa tomorrow, if I may.’
‘You will be welcome at any time,’ said Mrs Lessing graciously.
‘And when does the Mr Goss arrive?’ asked Sophie.
‘On Monday,’ said Cicely. ‘Which means we have a few days to perfect our plan, and after that Al - Mr Evington and I must not be seen. Mr Evington will remain in Karlsbad, and I will remain at the villa. We don’t want Goss to see us and scent a trap.’
‘Very well.’
Mrs Lessing finished her coffee and stood up. Alex rose politely, and the two young ladies rose as well.
‘We will expect you at the villa tomorrow, Mr Evington. I hope you will come to lunch. It will give us a chance to finalise the details of our plan.’ By now, Mrs Lessing was as involved as the rest of them. ‘And in the meantime, I have a lot of arrangements to make.’
They made their farewells. Alex returned to the neighbouring town of Karlsbad, and Cicely, together with her cousin and her aunt, returned to the villa.
Cicely felt uncomfortable as she walked through the pine forests surrounding her aunt’s villa on the following morning. She had slept badly, her mind a whirl of dinners and tiaras, but most of all it had been full of Alex. No matter how hard she tried, she could not put him out of her mind.
She turned her attention to the forest, breathing in the heady scent of pine and rejoicing in the beauty of the trees. Beneath their needled branches the path was cool. Blue shadows fell across the undergrowth, pierced here and there by a brilliant shaft of sunlight that lanced into the forest’s cool depths.
She began to feel her spirit calm. Her pace gradually slowed, until she was doing nothing more than strolling along the path. It would soon be over. Martin Goss would be caught. She would return to England. Alex would leave the Manor. And everything would be as it had been before.
But would it? Whilst a part of her hoped that would be the case, another part of her knew that, for her, nothing would ever be the same again.
She forced herself to turn her thoughts into less dangerous channels and began to take greater notice of her surroundings. She took in the ferns and brackens that grew beneath the trees, and stopped every now and again to let her eyes wander down over the glimpses of the spa town, which was just visible through their heavily-needled branches.
By and by she began to feel better. She decided that, on reaching the next bend, she would turn back to the villa. It was already eleven o’clock, and she would have to change for luncheon at twelve.
She had almost reached the bend, and was preparing to turn, when she saw someone round it from the other direction. She stopped dead. It was Alex!
He too, stopped. By the look on his face it was obvious he was surprised to see her.
She took a deep breath to calm her pulse, which had become uncomfortably rapid, and then managed to say a few words. ‘I . . . was just taking a stroll before luncheon,’ she began, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the fact that she had ventured out on her own and was now alone with him in the cool and inviting depths of the forest.
His eyes wandered over her face and she felt him taking in the softness of her hair and the delicate flush that had sprung to her cheek.
‘I arrived early,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘I didn’t know how long it would take me to find the villa, and so I left in plenty of time. I didn’t want to disturb your aunt before half-past twelve and so I decided to take a walk.’
They stood looking at each other, an indefinable awkwardness hanging between them. It should not have been there. Cicely was merely taking a stroll, and Alex was doing the same. They had simply met on the way. After expressing their surprise at seeing each other, they should have turned and walked back to the villa. Nothing would have been more natural. Instead of which they stood facing each other, neither one of them moving or speaking, as though in the grip of some invisible spell which held them rigid, afraid to move or speak for fear of losing control of what they might do or say.
‘Cicely —’
‘Alex —’
They spoke at last in an effort to break the tension that rippled through the forest air, but they spoke at the same time and it unnerved them, making them relapse into silence again. And it was just as well, for Cicely had the sudden feeling that if they succeeded in breaking the tension the storm would break with it; not a storm of thunder and lightning, but of feelings and passions that would be impossible to control.
There was only one thing to do. She must go back to the villa, and leave this highly charged atmosphere behind. She tried to turn around but it was beyond her power to do it. She made a determined attempt, and this time she managed.
It made things easier. She was no longer looking at Alex, and she began to walk away from him.
He watched her take the first few steps, and then said, ‘I can’t let you do it.’
She stopped. She knew she must keep on walking, but almost against her will she turned, and when she did so she caught her breath. There was an air of such intensity about him it seemed he was more alive than anything else in the forest.
Against the suddenly-dimmed background he stood out, his attitude one of tightly-leashed power, as though he were a predator about to pounce. But it was not just his body that held her motionless, causing her heart to skip a beat. His face, a collection of sharp angles and planes, held her rigid, and his eyes burned.
She felt alarmed, not because of what he might do, but because of what they might do together. Yet despite this she was unable to move; unable to take the steps that would let her walk away.
Then she must say something. If she could not move she must at least utter a few words. The situation was becoming so charged with pent-up energy that she knew she must do something to give it release, for if it continued it would become unbearable.
‘I . . . I don’t know what . . . ’ She started to speak, but it was impossible for her to continue because her throat and mouth were parched.
His eyes continued to bore into her own, holding her and drinking her in.
She began to tingle.
And then he spoke. ‘I can’t let you marry Chuffington,’ he said.
‘Marry . . . ?’ She couldn’t think what he was talking about. Had she heard him correctly? There was such a rushing in her ears that she could not be sure. Her mind was no more help than her ears, for it was filled with heart-wrenching memories, and she was finding it difficult to think.
She was in the forest, with Alex, and his eyes were full of an intense emotion that she could not begin to understand; her legs were turning to water; but beyond that her mind could not go.
‘It isn’t worth it,’ he said. His eyes still held her. ‘I know life has been difficult for you, and I know he can give you a beautiful home, but -’
Cicely blinked. The rushing sound in her ears began to diminish.
He can give you a beautiful home?
‘ - you will not be happy,’ he went on.
He can give you a beautiful home. The words began to sink in.
And her expression changed.
Gone was the rushing in her ears, and the weakness in her knees. In their place was a growing disdain. To begin with she had been perplexed that he should think she was going to marry Chuff Chuff, but realizing he thought she was going to marry him for Parmiston Manor, her anger began to stir. Did he really know her so little? Did he hold her in such low esteem that he thought she would marry for mercenary reasons?
‘It isn’t enough,’ he said.
‘Isn’t it?’ she demanded.
She was by now almost back in control of herself but her gaze was drawn to his eyes, which were fixed tumultuously on her own. She had never realized how deep they were before, as though they were whirlpools that could draw her in.
She stood her ground as he approached her, but even so a part of her had an urge to back away. He was so overpoweringly, so overwhelmingly masculine; something she was able to forget on occasion, when it was hidden under a civilised veneer, but it was always there, waiting to break through. And it had broken through now, revealing the full strength and power of the man beneath.
‘I can’t let you do it,’ he said again. He cupped her chin. ‘You’ll regret it.’ He searched her eyes as though searching her soul. ‘Chuffington’s a buffoon -’
At his criticism of her childhood friend her anger began to rise again, and she used it to fight the unwanted sensations that were bubbling just beneath the surface, aroused by his touch. It would be so easy to let her eyes close; so easy to fall into his arms and turn up her face for his kiss, but she could not allow herself to do it.
If she once surrendered to him she would do so completely; body, mind and soul.
And she had no intention of surrendering herself to a man who thought so little of her that he believed she would marry without love. Let alone a man who was obviously very close to another woman, in a relationship she did not understand.
And so she focused on her anger, telling herself he had no right to speak of her childhood friend in that way.
‘Lord Chuffington is a dear, sweet man,’ she said, taking a step backwards and freeing herself from his touch. ‘He has more virtues than you could possibly imagine. He —’
‘Virtues!’ He spoke contemptuously. ‘You don’t need virtues! You need a man who can show you what it is to be a woman. He can give you a safe life; an easy life; but there is more to life than ease and safety, Cicely.’ His voice became husky. ‘There is so much more.’
Looking at him standing before her she did not doubt it. It was as though his words had tapped into the primal heart of her, and she was filled with a sense of anticipation, as though something momentous was about to happen.
His presence was so overpowering, the feelings he aroused in her so overwhelming, that she did not know how to control them. And if she lost control . . .
But still she did not turn away. She was held there by his presence, and the searing energy flashing between them. She flexed her feet, but it did no good. She could not move. She was held fast by the overwhelming force that enveloped them, crackling all around them like a forest fire.
‘There are kisses, for a start,’ he said throatily. ‘You have never been kissed, but — ‘
‘Wrong,’ she said breathlessly, remembering the gossamer-light brush of his lips against hers when they had been overtaken by their feelings once before. ‘You kissed me —’
‘In the study?’ He shook his head. ‘That wasn’t a kiss.’ He dragged her into his arms. ‘This is a kiss.’
His mouth closed over hers and the world disappeared. She was aware of nothing but Alex. It was as if there was no forest, no ground, no air and no sky; nothing but the searing heat of his body and his hot mouth claiming hers. His arms pressed her closer and then closer still as he crushed her body against him, until she could feel his every muscle, hard, firm and unyielding, pressed against her soft and pliant flesh.
Her hands rose of their own accord and slid round his neck. It felt so wonderful, opening up to her a whole new world, one she had never known existed. It was a world of heat and passion, of deep, intuitive feelings, of overwhelming sensations, and of pure unbridled joy.
She had never known it was possible to feel like this, to be so close to another person, spiritually, physically and emotionally, that she felt she was melting into him. But she knew it now, and with every touch of his mouth, every brush of his hand, she was aware of it more and more.
She wanted it to go on for ever, and when his mouth left hers she gave an unwitting cry, feeling suddenly lost. But he had released her only so that he could pull back and look at her, drinking her in.
His dark eyes traced the delicate curves of her face, lingering on her cheeks, her eyelids, her chin and her brow, before they looked deeply into her own.
Then taking her face between his hands he caressed her, his strong thumbs following the line of her cheekbones until at last they held her face with a strength and delicacy that made her shiver to the depths of her soul. And then he kissed her again. Slowly, languorously, as if time did not matter, as if they had all eternity in which to discover each other.
His hands dropped to her shoulders and trailed a blaze of heat down her spine . . .
In the background, she was dimly aware of a sound. Some small part of her, a part that had not yet completely succumbed to the intoxicating sensations that were coursing through her body, began to interpret it as bells.
Alex released her, slowly, reluctantly, as though it cost him an enormous effort, and yet he let her go. Gradually she began to emerge from her rapturous state and return to reality.
And reality was that the church bells were tolling the time, their ponderous chimes ringing out the hour of twelve. If she did not return at once to her aunt’s villa she would be missed, for it was time to change for luncheon.
She stepped back, still dazed, and tried to collect herself. Steadying her rapid pulse, she smoothed her crumpled skirt and pinned her straying locks back in place. What had come over her? Why had she so forgotten herself that she had allowed him to kiss her, and even worse, responded? Her head was so clear and so sensible, but her feelings were turbulent and out of control.
‘I have to go,’ she said.
She did not dare look at him. She was uncomfortably aware that his dark eyes were still full of desire and she knew that if she looked at him she would stay. Without waiting for him to reply she turned and ran down the forest path, not looking back. She arrived back at her aunt’s villa ten minutes later flustered and out of breath. She slipped in at the door without ringing the bell and ran up to her room, not allowing herself to stop until she had closed the door behind her.
Fortunately, her aunt and cousin were in their rooms changing for luncheon, and had not noticed her absence. Even so, she must make sure she was composed before she appeared downstairs.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and at last allowed herself to rest. Her breathing was coming thick and fast, and her feet were sore. She kicked off her shoes and luxuriated in the freedom it brought her. Her shoes had been designed for gentle strolling on properly paved paths, not running over rough and uneven forest floors.
Why had Alex kissed her? she wondered as she began to regain her breath. Was it really nothing more then a desire for dalliance? She did not think so. His kiss had been too intense. It had carried the full weight of his heart and soul behind it.
Or at least, so it had seemed to her. But she had to admit that she was inexperienced in such matters.
Oh, it was so perplexing! For all she knew, it could have been motivated solely by a desire to stop her marrying Lord Chuffington. But that would imply jealousy, and why would he be jealous if he did not have any feelings for her? Particularly if he had feelings for Eugenie?
This thought was too difficult to answer, and so she turned her attention to the problem of why he had told her that she couldn’t marry Lord Chuffington in the first place. What had given him the preposterous idea she was likely to do so? It must have been some idle village gossip.
She would have told him that he was mistaken if he had given her a chance, but just as she had been about to do so he had accused her of being about to marry for position and a manor house, and then, before she could gather her scattered wits, he had driven all thought of anything else out of her mind by kissing her.
That wasn’t a kiss. This is a kiss.
His words came back to her. Oh, yes, that was a kiss. It had been like nothing she had ever experienced before, and deep in the heart of her she knew that she wanted to experience it again. But she could not allow herself to do so.
She began to change, taking off her plain skirt and blouse and changing them for something more modish. As she did so she could not help wishing that the present customs did not demand her to change her clothes several times a day. One outfit for the daytime and another for evening seemed to her to be quite sufficient.
Still, she could not run contrary to society in every way, and so she donned a simple day dress in a tiny blue-and-white check, with a high neckline, sashed waist and long sleeves, before going downstairs for luncheon.
She had by now completely recovered from her exertions, and bore no visible traces of what had just happened.
‘Ah! Just in time,’ said her aunt, as she went into the sitting-room. ‘It is half past twelve. Mr Evington should be here any minute, and then we will go into lunch.’
Making no mention of the fact that she had already seen Mr Evington that morning, Cicely set about composing herself, knowing that she must be able to spend the next few hours in his company without becoming distracted by wayward thoughts.
True to her aunt’s prediction, Alex was at that moment announced. He greeted Sophie and Mrs Lessing then turned to Cicely politely, giving no sign that anything untoward had passed between them. For this Cicely was grateful. The luncheon was going to be difficult enough for her as it was - a smouldering glance would have made it impossible.
Fortunately, Mrs Lessing, as hostess, did most of the talking for the next ten minutes. She made Mr Evington feel at home, then arranged everything as they went through into the dining-room for lunch.
Once the first course - a clear soup - had been served, the conversation turned to the matter of the theft.
‘I have managed to take the Kurhaus,’ said Mrs Lessing as they began to eat. ‘I have had to pull any number of strings, and call in one or two favours as well, but it is done. Unfortunately, however, I have not been able to take it for Friday.’
Cicely looked up. This was an unwelcome complication.
‘We will have to amend our plans slightly, that is all,’ said Mrs Lessing, ‘and stage the theft for Wednesday.’
‘That doesn’t give us much time,’ said Cicely, not liking the change in the arrangement. ‘Mr Goss won’t arrive in Marienbad until Monday. You then have to arrange to make his acquaintance and invite him to the dinner. I don’t see how it can be done in such a short space of time.’
‘I’ve thought of a way round that,’ said Sophie exuberantly. ‘We don’t need to make his acquaintance at all - at least not properly, by waiting for someone to introduce us. There is another way.’
‘Not a way I like,’ put in her mother reprovingly.
‘But it will work.’ Sophie turned to Cicely. ‘I mean to bump into him on the promenade, which will cut out all need for a formal introduction. "So silly of me," I will say, fluttering my eyelashes. "I cannot have been looking where I was going." He will say "It is quite alright, Miss . . . ?" I will introduce myself, he will doff his hat and introduce himself - to mother, of course, observing the niceties - and then, apparently wanting to make up for bumping into him I will tell him he must let me make amends by inviting him to our dinner party.’
‘It’s a good idea,’ said Alex approvingly. ‘Goss is a vain man. He will be flattered by your attention, and he is therefore likely to accept the invitation. Engaging in a flirtation with a pretty young woman is just his style.’
‘I think it’s a dreadful idea,’ declared Mrs Lessing, putting down her spoon with a determined clatter. ‘You were not brought up to play the coquette,’ she said to Sophie. ‘You were brought up to be well behaved.’
‘But mother, it is only acting,’ said Sophie appealingly.
Mrs Lessing shook her head. ‘I would rather we could think of another way.’
‘But that’s just it,’ said Sophie with a sigh. ‘We can’t.’
‘And we do have to make sure Goss attends the dinner party,’ Cicely reminded her aunt.
‘I suppose so,’ said Mrs Lessing with a frown.
‘And it is in a good cause,’ Sophie reminded her.
‘I wish there were another way,’ said Mrs Lessing again, ‘but if there isn’t then we must go ahead with it. I just hope, after all this, we catch the wretched man, that’s all.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘And you, miss, will see that no one we know is close by when you do your bumping trick.’ Having voiced her concerns, Mrs Lessing became practical again. ‘Now, as to who else is to be invited to the party. . . ’
Mrs Lessing outlined her plans for the dinner party, ending by saying, ‘I have made out the guest list, but I will need help with the invitations.’
‘Sophie and I will help you write them this afternoon,’ said Cicely.
‘Meanwhile, I will give the private detectives their instructions, and make sure they know exactly what they are to do,’ said Alex. ‘As to the tiara . . . ’ He pulled a box out of the inside pocket of his jacket and laid it on the table. He lifted the lid. Inside was an exquisite tiara. It was made of diamonds, with three sapphires set into the rim.
Sophie gasped.
‘That will certainly tempt him,’ said Mrs Lessing. She frowned. ‘Sophie will not be in any danger, will she? He is not likely to harm her in any way? Because if he is, then this ends now.’
‘No.’ Alex spoke certainly. ‘Goss has never been guilty of violence. Stealth is his style. Sophie will not be in any danger.’
‘Even so.’ Cicely spoke out boldly. She had a feeling that Alex would not like what she was about to say, but her mind was made up. ‘I intend to be outside the Kurhaus in case anything goes wrong.’
‘That’s impossible -’ began Alex.
Cicely cut across him. ‘I know what you are going to say, that he will recognise me, but I have thought it all out. I will be dressed in some of my aunt’s old mourning clothes - that is, if you will lend them to me, aunt? - and will be swathed from head to foot in black, making me appear older than my years. In addition I will be wearing a large hat with a veil, so that my face will be completely hidden. There is no way that Goss will recognise me in such an outfit, even if he sees me. And I mean to make sure that he doesn’t see me.
‘I will keep well hidden - something the dull black material of the mourning clothes will make easy as it is specially designed to soak up the light. Without any hint of a glint or sparkle I will blend in with the shadows and be virtually invisible. But I will be on hand if Sophie needs any help.’
‘And if I forbid it?’ asked Alex, his eyes fixed on her own.
She turned towards him innocently.
He gave a wry smile. ‘You will do it anyway.’ Then he became serious. ‘In that case, I intend to be there as well. Like you, I will keep well hidden, and will wear concealing clothes, so that even if Goss spots me he will not recognise me.’
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good. I didn’t want you to think I was a chicken, but I will feel better if you are near by.’
‘Then it is all settled.’ Alex rose. ‘Now I must be going. Thank you for a delightful luncheon,’ he said to Mrs Lessing. And then, to all three ladies, ‘I think it better if, until the night of the dinner party, we do not see each other again.’
His eyes drifted to Cicely as he said it.
Was that regret she saw there? she wondered.
Or had she simply imagined it?