Girl's Guide to Kissing Frogs (56 page)

I ran down the drive and turned left onto the road that led into Gaythwaite. The going was better on tarmac. I must have
looked a sight, charging along in a silk dress with bare feet and my hair hanging loose. Several cars hooted as they overtook me. I pounded down the half-mile into the town. A group of men sitting outside a pub began whistling and shouting. One of them, holding a bottle, wove into my path, but I skipped round him.

‘What’s the hurry, pet?’ he called. ‘Yer old man after ye …?’

I put on a spurt to get through the town, across the market square, past the surgery, the Singing Swan and the craft shop with its ‘For Sale’ sign in the window. I dashed past the mendacious sign outside Belinda’s Buns which said ‘Fresh Cream Cakes Daily’. Before long I was through the town, running uphill now, keeping the pace steady. Pad, pad, pad went my bare feet, and my mind kept in tune with them, relaxed, concentrating on sustaining the physical effort, empty of thought. Before me stretched the road, around me were trees and hills, their distinct shapes and colours starting to merge with the approach of nightfall. I was conscious of confusion and looming dismay, which would overtake me the moment I stopped, but for now anxiety was contained, dammed up, by the demands of running. I reached the end of the drive to Dumbola Lodge, now dignified by an estate agent’s board. I had not thought of it as a haven for many years, but nonetheless I felt a pang of regret as I swept by.

A car came up behind me, slowed and tooted. I took no notice. The car crawled beside me for some way, two young men urging me to get in and have a bit of fun with them. When I continued to ignore the various inducements they offered – a tab, a gill, a ride in the shuggyboats, a trip to Newcassel – they became insulting. I ducked into the woods. It was dark under the trees. My feet suffered agonies from stones, thorns and nettles. Brambles tore my dress. A light far above my head, which must come from Hindleep, gave me encouragement. Perhaps ten minutes or quarter of an hour later I emerged onto the road and made for the bridge without pausing to catch my breath. The statues were transformed by obscurity into featureless columns of shadow, but I
felt their censorious presence. I imagined stone hands reaching down to clutch at my hair and put all my energy into one last burst of speed.

The lanterns were lit in the courtyard, revealing the sleek outline of the Bentley. This was more than I had dared to hope for. I flew up the steps, wrenched open the front door, slammed it behind me and leaned against it, panting. A soft light came from the drawing room. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and went in. The windows were thrown wide, admitting a refreshing breeze from the lake which made the curtains stream like demented wraiths. Several candles burned beside the unlit hearth.

Conrad was sitting on the left-hand divan, an open book in one hand. The other caressed a pair of beautiful ears. They belonged to Siegfried, who was curled up on the crimson silk beside him. Conrad closed the book and yawned, then caught sight of me. An expression of something like satisfaction flitted across his face before he schooled it to resignation as he looked me up and down.

‘I experience a strong sense of déjà vu,’ he said, closing the book and standing up.

‘Hello Conrad,’ I panted. ‘Hello, Siggy
darling
.’

‘You look like Ashenputtel, with your dress in rags and your hair in disorder.’ Conrad picked up the bottle of wine in front of him and filled the second glass that stood on the tray. He remained standing to strike a match and apply it to the kindling in the fireplace. ‘Cinderella, as you call her. Sadly I have no turtle doves to bring you a golden gown and silver-embroidered slippers.’

I looked down at my beautiful dress. The hem was torn in several places and stained with mud.

‘Come and sit here,’ said Conrad, ‘close to the fire.’

‘I feel as though I’ve been brought to a rolling boil.’

‘But you must remember the horses. Now wait. I shall be back directly.’

I did as I was told. Siggy stared up at me with marmalade eyes. His nose went into a spasm of twitching but he decided in my favour and climbed carefully into my lap. I stroked him and kissed the tips of his ears. I had missed him very much during my stay in Newcastle. Knowing how fastidious he was, I suppressed my panting as much as I could and tried not to drip.

Conrad returned with a bowl of steaming water, milky with disinfectant, and placed it on the floor beside me. ‘Put in your feet.’

The water became an unpleasant muddy colour streaked with red, and the cuts stung like crazy. ‘This is rather biblical,’ I said.

‘As my hair is too short to dry them, here is a towel.’ He threw it on the divan beside me.

‘It’s so kind of you. Thank you.’

‘Not at all. I have some respect for my carpets.’

I raised my glass. ‘Were you expecting someone?’

‘I was expecting you,
act
ually, as you say.’

‘No, do I really? How annoying of me. I must try not to. But were you really? What made you think I was coming here?’

‘Oh … something I overheard. At the party.’

‘What was it?’

‘A boy who looked like Struwwelpeter and a girl with hair like springs were talking about you. She said she regretted having left you alone in the garden. Apparently you were much upset because you had seen Isobel and your father making love in a thatched cottage where they used to keep bears. When she saw that I was listening she drew him away. Naturally my curiosity was aroused so I went into the garden and down to the Bear Hut.’

‘Oh, Conrad, I’m so sorry!’

‘It was a pleasant walk. The rain had stopped.’

‘Yes, but Isobel – did you see them?’ I shivered, remembering the two lovers moving in the shadows. ‘Lizzie didn’t realize … She thought it was my father, and then I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I don’t know how to tell you, either, but if you knew them as well as I do you wouldn’t be angry … People will say it’s wicked but, oh, this is so hard …’ The idea of giving him pain made me wretched.

‘Don’t be distressed, Marigold,’ he said in a softer tone. ‘I was sure the girl was mistaken. I went only to see if my surmise as to the identity of the two was correct. I have known for a long time that Isobel and Rafe were lovers.’

‘Conrad! I don’t believe you!’ We stared at each other. His face was lit dramatically by the rising flames. ‘I want to, desperately. But you always hate to be told anything.’

‘Did I not tell you some time ago that the story of Siegmund and Sieglinde was something you should consider? If you were not a terribly badly educated girl, you would know that they were brother and sister who become lovers in
Die Walküre
.’

‘You know I’m trying to improve my mind but it takes time – anyway, I’m so glad you know. I was afraid …’

‘Afraid of what?’

‘That you’d be terribly hurt. And that you might be angry with me because you’re so proud and you’d be jealous of somebody making love to Isobel.’

‘I? Proud? Jealous?’ He drew himself up very straight and his eyes seemed to spark. ‘Never!’

‘I don’t see either of those things as particularly sinful. You said yourself if you love someone you can’t help it … but that’s all beside the point. I had simply no idea and I still can’t really believe it. It seems to stand everything on its head. Let me think a minute.’ I tried to recall every detail of my relationship with Rafe and to weave this new strand into everything that had happened since my arrival in Northumberland. Eventually I looked up at Conrad, who stood with a glass in his hand contemplating me with an air of calm patience. ‘You might have told me! I do think it was mean of you!’

‘Have you not just said that you were reluctant to tell me? Why should not I also feel the unpleasantness of hurting you? I tried to suggest it to you, but two possibilities occurred to me. One: that you, the girl who loves to dwell in fantasy, might not wish to know the brutal truth. Two: you might know it, but you had decided to ignore it. Rafe was, after all, a matrimonial prize. All right, don’t be angry,’ he held up his hand as I began to protest, ‘I know you now well enough to be certain that you would not compromise yourself either for money or social advantage. But what business was it of mine what you knew? I am not the bureau of information. I had no way to tell how things were between you and Rafe. First you were to marry him, then you were not, then again you were.’ He folded his arms and
looked down at me in a considering sort of way. ‘You do not appear to be broken-hearted.’

‘Not for me. But I
am
broken-hearted for them. It seems utterly tragic. I’ve known Rafe and Isobel all my life. They always adored each other. But it honestly never occurred to me. I mean, Rafe is the last man you’d expect … he’s always so bothered about what other people are thinking. That’s why I know that they
really
, really do love each other and it isn’t any good being angry with them.’

‘Not the least good in the world. Besides, what is there to be angry about?’

‘Well … Isobel … you’re engaged to her!’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘I have never been engaged to marry Isobel.’

Siggy gave a squeak of protest because I was gripping his ears. I stroked them smooth and he rolled over so I could give attention to his stomach. ‘I don’t understand. We were all told … you were introduced to us as Isobel’s fiancé … you bought this house …’

‘Be quiet and I shall explain.’ He poured us both another glass of wine. ‘In December of last year I received from Isobel a letter asking me to marry her. I was surprised. And intrigued. One does not often receive proposals of marriage from beautiful, affluent young women of good family.’

‘Never, I should think.’

Conrad smiled in a rather superior way. ‘As to that, it is not so rare as you imply. She reminded me that we had spent an agreeable week together and thought that we would get on famously. That was her word. I remembered the week, much of it spent – no doubt you, who are so sensitive on the point, will think I am boasting – in a hotel bedroom. It had been delightful but I hardly knew her. You look at me with disapproval.’ I straightened my face to bland neutrality at once. ‘But have you never been guilty of making love where you did not love?’

‘That was below the belt,’ I said reproachfully.

He looked satisfied. ‘As I said, I was intrigued. Golly had often invited me to stay with her at Butterbank, and here was the opportunity both to please her and to make enquiries into the Preston family. As luck would have it, all flights were cancelled because of the snow, and I met you on that slow and inconveniently crowded train. I recognized Giselle at once and I was concerned not to fall into any conversation. It was a blow to find you at Shottestone.’

‘You certainly looked annoyed. I was quite frightened of you.’

He looked gratified. ‘I had already discovered that the Preston family were not in debt. In fact they were in the most healthy circumstances financially.’

‘How on earth did you find that out?’

‘All such knowledge can be bought.’

‘How shocking. Never mind. Go on.’

‘I could detect no reason for Isobel’s generous offer. No disgrace attached to the parents. Nor was there a clandestine relationship with a peripatetic shepherd or an escaped convict whose child I was expected to father as my own.’

‘Oh, Conrad!’ I laughed and began to feel less distraught. ‘You’re every bit as much of a dweller in fantasy as I am!’

He pointed a finger at me to shut me up. ‘I replied to Isobel, saying that I would be delighted to improve our acquaintance, but I had no desire to engage myself to a comparative stranger. You can imagine that I was surprised to arrive at Shottestone and find myself almost a married man.’

‘Crumbs! That was brave of Isobel!’

He looked mystified. ‘
Brösel
?
That means … ? Never mind. As you know, I was introduced to her family and friends as her affianced and I was sufficiently taken aback that briefly my wits deserted me.’ He looked expectant.

‘I bet that doesn’t often happen,’ I said loyally.

‘No. I was …’ He paused and drew his jet-black brows together. I could tell he was running rapidly through the vocabulary of six
or seven languages. ‘… nonplussed. I did not immediately deny the engagement because I was reluctant to be unchivalrous and humiliate her before her family and friends. Also I myself would have looked like a fool. Afterwards Isobel explained that she had been obliged to announce the engagement to draw attention from her brother who was recovering from melancholia. As an excuse it seemed to me disingenuous.’

‘That was true – at least, as far as the timing was concerned. I was there.’

‘Ah! Well, though I was sure that Isobel was not being perfectly truthful with me, there was a piquancy in the situation I could not resist. Isobel was as attractive as I had remembered her. Fritz and I explored the countryside and we saw this house. It reminded me of Ba—’ he caught my eye and remembered in time that he was never homesick, ‘I liked it. I decided to buy it. It seemed not impossible to me then that I might wish – if not to marry Isobel, at least to continue the affair for a time. She was an enthusiastic lover and she had an untamed spirit that was appealing. She asked me to cooperate with her scheme. Apparently her mother wished her to marry because she was anxious to have grandchildren at her knee. When I met Evelyn, this also I did not believe. But,’ he smiled, ‘I had nothing to risk. Isobel said she would not consider me bound by any agreement. If I could not reciprocate her passion for me, at least her mother would be satisfied for the time being.’

‘I suppose that’s just what every man hopes for. Opportunity and no commitment.’ I looked at the contents of my glass and saw candlelight winking in its depths. ‘You made love to her.’

He spread his hands. ‘Of course. As you say, what man would object to a good-looking girl attempting to win his affection with all the powers at her disposal.’

‘Oh, certainly,’ I agreed coldly.

‘Though, in fact, with a rapidity that surprised me, I began to feel that I was like a lapdog being fed honeyed sweetmeats, and there was an indignity in this that was putting off.’

‘Off-putting.’

‘Hm!’ He looked disdainful. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Sorry. Do go on. I’m on tenterhooks.’

He looked sceptical. ‘What is a tenterhook?’

‘I’ve absolutely no idea, but if you don’t get on and tell me everything I shall … do something desperate.’

‘Well, then, don’t interrupt. Now where was I … ? Ah, yes, for a while I considered the most likely explanation of the mystery was that Isobel had for me an overwhelming physical infatuation.’

‘Oh Conrad, how
can
you?’

He looked amused. ‘You are so easy to provoke. In fact I think that she chose me from among her plentiful suitors because she did like me.’

I tried but no doubt failed to look sceptical in my turn. Who, other than a madwoman with no eyes in her head, would not think Conrad the most … the most … I felt shivery again and took several gulps of wine.

‘Have a good cough,’ he said sympathetically. ‘It never helps to bang on the back. I was talking of Isobel. For a woman it is a simple matter to pretend lust, but my lovemaking with Isobel, though energetic, seemed impersonal. We were physically attracted, nothing more. There was afterwards that ennui.’

‘It’s not that simple!’ I said indignantly, remembering all the times I had pretended to like it.

‘At least it is possible. You women are fortunate you cannot mistake when a man desires you.’

‘Not so lucky as all that when you remember that most men will make love to anything warm with a pulse. And apparently there are some who aren’t even that fussy.’

‘Well, I
am
fussy, as you call it. Isobel consoled herself for my reluctance to take her to bed by spending my money. I did not object but, as it was already clear that I should never love her, to discourage her, I pretended to be a little mad.’

‘You mean you haven’t been in an insane asylum?’

‘Oh, frequently. These last thirty years my aunt Friederike has been a permanent resident in a sanatorium near Mannheim. She is a charming woman, quite the most interesting of my relations, and I visit her regularly. She is fond of conjuring tricks, so as a boy I taught myself
Taschenspielerei
– legerdemain – to entertain her.’

‘Thirty years! How sad! Is it quite impossible for her to lead a normal life?’

‘Quite. She suffers from the delusion that she is Lola Montès.’

‘Who?’

‘Lola Montès was a courtesan, mistress of King Ludwig I of Bavaria, Franz Liszt and many others. She ended her days in a travelling circus. Aunt Friederike spends much of her time swinging from a trapeze to the strains of the Hungarian Rhapsodies.’

I had no way of telling if Conrad was serious, but there was an awkwardness in suggesting that the behaviour of his favourite aunt was so fantastic as to defy belief.

‘I don’t think Isobel thought you were mad any more than I did.’

‘Or perhaps she did not care. My next ruse was to make a little more of a dip in the world stock markets than was perhaps necessary.’

‘Aha! So you did tell a lie. You weren’t in financial difficulties after all.’

‘I said nothing but the truth. There was a cyclone in … I forget where it was … and some of our capital was temporarily embarrassed. I merely implied …’ He waved his hand to convey the fluidity of words and meanings. ‘My motive in publishing my new-found poverty was to give Isobel another chance to say she no longer wished to marry me. I am no different from other men in that I have a cowardly dislike to see a woman cry and to feel that I am the cause of her distress.’