Part 8 (2/2)

Catherine thought of having lunch alone with Elizabeth and came to a reluctant decision. 'All right.' She managed to smile. 'I'll come. If you're sure that's what you want to do.'

'Marvellous!' Laura was so enthusiastic, she made Catherine feel even worse. 'Let's go, then, shall we? You can leave a message for Elizabeth with one of the servants. I'm sure she won't mind.'

Catherine didn't care for being hurried, but she had accepted Laura's invitation now, and there was nothing she could do to change that, even if she had wanted to. Susie was dusting the stairs when she went into the hall, and she left word with her that she and Miss Premises were lunching out. At least that way she could be sure that the news would reach every member of the household, she thought dryly.

Fourwinds was a sprawling, split-level dwelling, built on an incline above a small lake. Long windows stood wide to the scents from the gardens that were terraced down to the lakeside, where a dinghy with an outboard motor rocked against a stone jetty. Behind the house were cane fields, and as they drove up the narrow drive, overhung with shrubs and palms and thickly flowering thorn bushes, Laura explained that although her father had retired now, he employed an estates manager to run the small plantation for him. Catherine could see a windmill in the middle of the grey-plumed stalks, its sails turning slowly in the breeze, no doubt pumping water from the lake into the fields.

Two dark-skinned Bajuns were at work in the gardens, but they stopped and leaned on their spades as the two girls drove by. The whole atmosphere was one of unhurried indolence.

Mr Prentiss was sitting on the veranda at the front of the house, which overlooked the terraced gardens and the blue- shadowed waters of the lake beyond. He looked up as Laura brought her sports car to a halt at the side of the building, and came to meet them as they walked up the slope towards him. He was a man in his late fifties, Catherine supposed, and although she had met him twice before, she had not held a conversation with him. Of medium height and slightly built, greying hair and sun-lined features, he was a quiet man, usually content to allow his wife and daughter to speak for him.

But now he held out his hand to Catherine and his smile was warm and genuine. 'Welcome to Fourwinds,' he said, admiring the picture she made in her green dress, her hair dry now and escaping in honey-gold strands from the ribbon. 'Come and have a cool drink before lunch.'

'Thank you.' Catherine found it easy to smile now. 'What an attractive view you have!'

Mr Prentiss exchanged a look of acknowledgement with his daughter. 'Yes, we do. As we can't see the sea from our windows, we have the next best thing.'

'Do you swim in the lake?'

Laura laughed. 'Well, Daddy doesn't. But I do-sometimes.'

'That's as close to the water as I get these days,' said her father, indicating the dinghy. 'Do you sail, Catherine?'

'I've never tried, I'm afraid. It wasn't one of my father's pa.s.sions, and I guess I've never got round to it.'

They mounted the steps to the veranda, and as they did so, Laura's mother came through the french doors to join them. She was a plumper edition of Laura, her dark hair showing few grey strands, although her skin belied her real age. She greeted Catherine with only slightly less warmth than her husband, and they all made themselves comfortable in the cus.h.i.+oned rattan chairs. Catherine had her first taste of iced punch, a mixture of lime juice and sugar, with just a dash of angostura, liberally laced with rum. It was delicious, and she felt herself relaxing and occasionally joining in the undemanding conversation. Mrs Prentiss's penchant for talking made everybody else's contribution less important, and it was pleasant just to drowse there in the sun, watching the bees among the flowers, hearing the gentle lap of water against the reeds bordering the lake.

Lunch was served in a white-walled dining room, with an enormous fan stirring the air above their heads. Sh.e.l.lfish salad, and a fruit mousse, were exactly what one needed on such a hot day, and afterwards, Mrs Prentiss suggested that Catherine might like to look over the house.

Catherine would have preferred to return to the shade of the veranda. The punch had been stronger than she had imagined, and that, combined with the wine she had consumed during lunch, had served to make her feel pleasantly lethargic. But Laura and her mother shared the same eager enthusiasm which made it difficult to refuse. She had expected Laura would accompany them, but she went to join her father leaving Catherine to Mrs Prentiss's mercies.

Fourwinds was more modern than Amaryllis, the furnis.h.i.+ngs similar to what Catherine had been used to in London. She tried to show a genuine interest in what her hostess was saying, but looking round other people's houses had never been a fetish with her. Nevertheless, it soon became apparent that showing Catherine the house had had secondary motivations. Before long, Mrs Prentiss brought the conversation round to the Royals, and waiting for the denunciation which she was sure was to come, Catherine was startled when Laura's mother began to speak about Elizabeth.

'How do you-er-get on with Jared's stepmother?' she asked, casually.

Catherine shrugged. How to answer that? 'I- we don't see a lot of one another,' she replied evasively. 'You know she spends a lot of time down at the stables, I suppose?'

'Yes.' Mrs Prentiss opened the door into a low, light lounge.

'This is our sitting room,' she said, rather absently, then: 'Has she discussed with you what she's going to do when Laura and Jared get married?'

'No.' Catherine ran her fingers over the smooth hide of a low couch. 'I love this tan-coloured leather-'

'Did you realise there was gossip about her and Jared just after his father died?'

Catherine half turned away, faint colour invading her cheeks.

'People always gossip,' she answered lightly.

'I know. And I don't honestly believe there was anything in it,'

Mrs Prentiss hastened on. 'Not on Jared's side, at least.

But-well, Elizabeth Royal was always aware of her stepson.

Anyone could see that. Some said she only took the old man when it became obvious she was getting nowhere with the son.

And when James died-'

'Really, Mrs Prentiss, I don't see what this has to do with me.'

Catherine's nails dug into the soft leather. 'Surely if you have any doubts about Jared's relations.h.i.+p with his stepmother, you should take them up with him.'

Mrs Prentiss sniffed. 'As if I could do that!' she exclaimed resentfully. 'Don't you know, Jared won't have a word said against the woman? But he and Laura have been engaged for almost two years. It's time they were thinking of getting married.

But so far as I know, no definite arrangements have even been discussed!'

Catherine felt an unpleasant stirring of emotion inside her. 'It's really nothing to do with me, Mrs Prentiss,' she repeated faintly, wondering what the woman would say if she knew how she was feeling right at this moment, remembering that less than twelve hours ago she had been in Jared's arms. . .

'But you live in the house, Catherine,' Laura's mother was persisting. 'And Laura told us how you spoke up to Jared in her defence last week. Oh'-she shook her head,-'she didn't describe it to me in quite those terms. She's a fool where he's concerned. But I realised what you were trying to do for her.'

'Mrs Prentiss-'

'No. Let me finish.' The older woman held up her hand. 'I hoped I might persuade you to-speak to Elizabeth. Casually., you understand. Sort of- . sound her out about--well, about the situation.'

'Oh, but I-'

'Laura won't push herself, you see,' exclaimed Mrs Prentiss, pressing her balled fists together. 'She won't ask questions. She's quite content to sit back and let the Royals walk all over her.

Well, I won't let her. Someone has to do something. This engagement could drag on indefinitely.'

Catherine took a deep breath. It crossed her mind, rather uncharitably perhaps, that by attempting to enlist her aid, Mrs Prentiss was hoping to dispose of any threat she might present.

But whatever her motives, there was nothing she could do.

'Why don't you speak to Elizabeth?' Catherine asked now, wis.h.i.+ng either Laura or her father would appear to interrupt them. 'Surely you could mention it to her.'

Mrs Prentiss's nostrils flared angrily. 'Do you think I haven't?

Elizabeth Royal is a past mistress in the art of sophistry! There's always something in the way of a direct answer-something she's arranged, some bloodstock sale she has to attend, some commission Jared has to finish.. .'

'Well,' Catherine s.n.a.t.c.hed at a pa.s.sing straw, 'as a matter of fact, Jared's working on a commission right now.'

'The portrait for the Legislature, yes, I know.' Mrs Prentiss made an impatient gesture. 'But that must surely be almost completed.'

'I understand he left this morning-'

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