Sonnet to a Dead Contessa (29 page)

Matthew watched him go, and as he walked toward the house, Serafina came out.

She had changed clothes, and he asked, “Did Dylan tell you about this business with Mrs. Brice?”

“What business?”

“She told him that it was her husband’s dying wish that she marry Dylan and let him be a husband to her and a father to that girl of hers.”

“You’re joking!”

“I wouldn’t joke. He asked me my advice.”

“What did you tell him?”

“It was short. I said, ‘Don’t do it.’”

“You told him exactly right!”

“Well, what do you think, Serafina?”

Serafina looked confused and then angry. “He’s a grown man.”

“Grown men are pretty helpless sometimes when beautiful women get their hands on them. He’s just a man like the rest. Remember they were childhood sweethearts, and Lewis was his best friend. You’d better talk to
him, Serafina.”

“No, you talk to him.”

She turned and walked away, and Matthew watched with surprise. “Well, Dylan, my boy, I think you really spit in the soup this time!”

EIGHTEEN

H
ere you go, Mrs. Fellows. You take Guin and your daughter out and show them a good time. It’s kind of you to keep her for me tonight.”

Mrs. Fellows, who owned the house that Meredith and Guin lived in, smiled. She was a heavyset woman with a sprinkling of grey in her blonde hair, but she had a daughter only a year older than Guin. The two girls had become good friends, and Mrs. Fellows had been a good landlady.

“Why, it’s my pleasure, ma’am. You don’t worry about little Guin now. I’ll bring her about ten o’clock in the morning if that’s all right.”

“That would be fine. Here’s a little extra. You might want to take them to some sort of entertainment. You enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. Come along, Guin.”

Mrs. Fellows picked Guin up, and Meredith said, “You be a good girl now,” and watched as Mrs. Fellows carried the girl out.

As soon as the door closed, Meredith went into a frenzy of activities. The first thing she did was take a bath. This involved heating water on the stove, and since it was hot it made a fog in the room. She filled it up with hot water, undressed, and sat there and soaked and washed her hair, using a fragrant soap that she had splurged on.

Finally she rose, dried off, put on a robe, and went out into the sunshine to let her hair dry. All the time she was humming a little, and her mind was working. There was a calculated look in her eyes, and finally when her hair was dry enough, she went inside. She glanced at the clock over the mantel and saw that it was nearly six o’clock. “Dylan will be here in an hour. I’ll have to hurry.” She moved to the bedroom, put on a shift, put on new drawers made of silk, and then slipped into a dress that she had spent all of her excess cash on. The gown was green, elegant as water in the sun, and stitched with silver beading and seed pearls. The waist was tiny and the bodice was very low cut and crossed over at the front. There was no bustle with this one, and the fullness was replaced by a new frilliness at the top of the sleeves. She looked at her reflection, tugged the dress down somewhat lower over her breast, and turned around to try to see what she looked like from the back. Finally she nodded with satisfaction at her reflection. She spent the rest of the time fixing her hair and dusting lightly with rice powder and touching her lips with a little carmine. Finally she used some of her favourite scent, on which she had also overspent. When all was done, she said, “Well now, Mr. Dylan Tremayne, you’ve been running like a scared rabbit since I told you that Lewis wanted you to marry me, but tonight we’ll see who holds the best hand, won’t we?”

As soon as possible, Dylan got away from the theatre. The performance had gone well, and he had stopped to buy a present for Guin. He reached the house and knocked, and when the door opened, his eyes grew wide. “Well, a new dress, is it?”

“Oh, I found this one on sale, so I had to buy it. I knew you liked green so much. Come in.”

“I brought this for Guin.” He held up the box containing the toy.

“Oh, Dylan, I’m sorry. She’s been begging to spend the night with her little friend Helen—you know, my landlady’s daughter. So I finally let her talk me into it. She gets lonesome for children.”

“Well, you can give her this tomorrow.”

“Yes, it’ll be just the two of us tonight.”

Dylan handed her the package, and she smiled at him and said, “You’re so good to Guin. You don’t know how I appreciate it. I’ve cooked you the best dinner I know how. Are you hungry?”

“Oh yes. I’ve been thinking about this meal all day. It provoked my hunger.”

“Oh no, it’s much more than that. Here. You sit down while I put it on the table. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Dylan settled himself, put his head back. He was very tired, for he had missed a great deal of sleep. The near brush with death he’d had when he caught Serafina had hit him hard. He had been unable to sleep, having bad dreams, and she had told him that she’d had the same experience. Now as he sat there, memories came floating back, and he suddenly thought,
What if I had been five feet farther away? I wouldn’t have been able to have gotten under her. She might have been killed.

The thought troubled him, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes. At that moment Meredith came in. “Come along. It’s all ready.”

“It smells delicious.”

“I hope you like poached salmon and vegetables.”

“I’ve always liked them. Remember in our village how many salmon we would eat?”

“You still remember that?”

“Oh yes.”

She put out cold salmon, sliced cucumbers and potatoes with herbs, and beside it she set a glass of a pinkish-looking nectar. “I know you don’t drink alcohol,” she said, “but this is a new kind of fruit juice.”

“What sort of fruit?”

“Oh, it’s a mixture. Part of it is pineapple juice. Hard to get in this country.”

He tasted it and said, “It’s very unusual. It’s good though.” He drank half the glass, and she brought the rest of the food, which included a plate full of hot boiled mutton and horseradish sauce.

Dylan ate, and twice she refilled his glass with the juice. Finally she brought out sweets, including a steamy pickled pudding with syrup and brandy sauce.

“It’s all I can eat.”

“Well, have some more juice.” She filled his glass again, and he noticed that she wasn’t drinking.

“Don’t you want some?”

“I tried some, and it didn’t seem to agree with me.”

“Well, it agrees with me. It’s delicious.” He finished the glass, and she immediately filled it once again.

“Let’s go sit on the couch.”

“No, let me help you do the dishes.”

“No, that’s not something a man should do. Come along.” She pulled him to the couch, and they sat down together. She talked more than he, mostly about their days back in Wales.

Dylan found that he was overwhelmed with the meal. “A full meal like that always makes me sleepy.”

“Well, just put your head back and rest a little bit. You can listen to me talk.”

Dylan did put his head back and closed his eyes. Her voice droned on and on. She was speaking mostly about her life with Lewis and their childhood days.

Dylan suddenly awoke with a start. He felt groggy. “Can’t keep my eyes open,” he said. “I’ve got to go home and go to bed.”

“Oh, it’s too early to leave yet.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’ve missed a lot of sleep lately.” He got to his feet, but suddenly the room seemed to reel, and he swayed from side to side.

“What’s wrong, Dylan? Are you ill?”

“I think I am. I ate too much, I believe. Maybe the salmon wasn’t good.” He took two steps and lurched to one side. Meredith caught him and said, “Come. You’d better lie down for a moment. You can’t go home like
this.”

“Got to get home.”

But Meredith took him by the arm and guided him out of the dining area. She led him to the bedroom and said, “Lie down.”

“I’ll—I’ll mess your bed up.”

“Doesn’t matter. Here, lie down. You’ll feel better soon.” He sat down and then fell backward. Meredith looked down at him, and a smile turned the corners of her lips upward. She reached down and put his feet up on the bed. He was breathing erratically, slowly, then quickly.

“Can you hear me, Dylan?” she said, standing right over him.

He did not move, and she nodded with satisfaction. She moved down and removed his boots, then his socks. It took some time, but she got him out of his clothes, all except the white drawers that he wore. Then she undressed and put on a new white shift that she had bought, made of soft cotton. It struck her above the knees and clung to her figure. She got into bed next to him, and then she rolled over and laughed softly. She reached up and touched his coal black hair. “Sleep well, husband,” she whispered.

Dylan seemed to be struggling to get out of some dark hole. His head was splitting, and he could not remember where he was. There were strange smells, and he knew he was in bed, but it did not seem to be his bed. He struggled out of the unconsciousness and opened his eyes. Suddenly a woman’s voice said, “Good morning, husband.” An arm came over him, and a soft form pressed against his side. He turned quickly, shocked to find Meredith lying in bed beside him. She was stroking his arm, and she laughed, saying, “Maybe I should call you husband-to-be.”

Dylan was utterly confused. He knew something had gone terribly wrong, and his one thought was to get out of that bed and get away. He rolled over and sat up, and his head seemed to split.

“Where are you going, Dylan?”

“I’ve got to go.” He looked at her once and then away, for the shift revealed her figure very plainly. He began to pull on his britches and his shirt, and in the meanwhile she got up and came around and said, “Why are you leaving?”

“I’ve got to get away from here. This—this shouldn’t have happened.”

Suddenly he pulled on his socks, his boots, and she pulled at his arm. “You’re not going to leave me now, are you, Dylan? Not after last night.”

“Yes, I’ve got to get away.”

“You’re just like all other men.” Her voice grew sharper, and he turned and saw that her face was twisted. “You used me to get what you wanted. You made promises, and I wouldn’t let you in my bed until you told me you cared for me.”

Dylan had no memory at all of that. “I don’t remember.”

“Well, I’m sure you don’t, but you told me you wanted to do what Lewis asked. You wanted to marry me and be my husband and Guin’s father.”

Dylan was horrified. He knew he had made the most serious mistake of his life, and she suddenly collapsed and began to weep. “I thought you were a Christian man, Dylan. I thought you were the one man who wouldn’t betray a woman. You’re just like all the rest—except for Lewis.”

Dylan’s heart smote him. He had obviously taken advantage of this woman, although he had no memory of it. He came over and stood beside her. She was sitting on the bed, but she was bent over, and her body shook as she wept. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Meredith, we’ll work this out somehow.”

“You had what you wanted. Now you’ll leave Guin and me forever.”

Dylan tried desperately to remember, and finally he asked in a hoarse voice, “I asked you to marry me?”

“Of course you did. I would never have let you make love to me if I didn’t think we were going to be married.”

And then Dylan Tremayne knew there was no way out. He had quick thoughts of trying to figure out something, but nothing came. In the end he said, “Don’t cry, Meredith. It will be as you say.”

At once she looked up, and her eyes were wet with tears. She whispered, “Do you mean it, Dylan? We will really be married?”

“Yes. We’ll be married, just as Lewis wanted.”

She came up then and threw herself against him. There was no desire in him. He simply wanted to get away. “I’ve got to leave now. I’ve got to think. This is sudden.”

“You’ll come back later?”

“Of course I will.” He finished dressing and left as quickly as he could. But as he stepped outside the door, he stopped dead still, and the thought came as clearly as printed black letters against a white background.
What am I going to tell Serafina?