The Devil at Archangel (23 page)

asked herself frantically. But she had seen no need. The upstairs

rooms were all dealt with in the mornings, and it was rare for any of

the servants to return there until the evening, when they came to turn

down the beds.

Christina suppressed a groan. Eulalie had always disliked her, she

knew. It would no doubt give the other girl enormous satisfaction to

be able to go to Mrs Brandon and report that her companion was

secretly packing for a no- doubt hurried departure. She wondered

desperately if it would be possible to bribe Eulalie to keep quiet, but

at the same time she knew her already grave financial position

precluded any such possibility, even if Eulalie had been willing.

Eulalie spoke first, a grim little smile playing about her lips. 'You are

going somewhere,
m'mselle?'

Christina compressed her lips. 'Don't let's play any cat and mouse

games, Eulalie,' she said curtly. 'It's quite obvious, isn't it? I'm

leaving. Now run away and tell what tales you have to.'

She had lost all hope of persuading Louis to take her to La Villette

now, she realised with a sinking heart. If she wanted to get there for

the afternoon boat, it seemed more than likely she would have to

walk, carrying her cases. She could not leave them with Lorna now.

'I shall not say anything,' said Eulalie. Christina stared ather in

surprise. The other girl's eyes were gleaming, and her tongue passed

excitedly over her lips. 'I shall say nothing.'

Christina gave her a steady look. 'I have nothing to give you in return

for your silence,' she pointed out quietly.

Eulalie gave a strident laugh. 'Oh, but you are wrong, English girl.

You give me everything when you go. You go—and my man will

forget about you, and turn back to me. I have seen how he looks at

you. I have seen him touch you. But you are prim and cold like all the

English. You cannot give him what I give him.'

Pain, that was almost physical, lashed at Christina. She folded her

arms tightly across her breasts as if she was trying to protect herself.

Of course, for Eulalie it was so simple. Presumably she had been in

the vicinity of the library on the previous day and had seen Christina

in Devlin's arms, as Theo had done. An image rose in her mind of the

carved wooden figure, in all its unashamed longing and passionate

surrender. To Eulalie, no doubt, possession was nine points of the

law where Devlin was concerned. She had already established her

rights, and now the sole threat to them was being removed. No

wonder she was making no effort to conceal her delight.

She looked at the overt eagerness on Eulalie's face and compassion

assailed her.

'I'm sorry if you've been hurt through me, Eulalie. I never intended it

to be so.'

'You hurt no one,
m'mselle.
Soon, we forget all about you. My man

will belong to me again, and it will be as if you. never existed.' As she

spoke, she snapped her fingers and laughed again.

Christina forced a smile. 'I hope, for your sake, that you're right.

But—but is there really any future with a man who is ready to be

unfaithful to you?'

Eulalie gave her a look of contempt. 'Why should he not amuse

himself? He is young and a man, non? Too much of a man for you,

English girl. Always in the past he has come back to me. But since

you came here—not. He will be glad of me when you go. He will be

glad to marry me.'

Christina's hands were shaking so violently she could hardly transfer

the piles of clothes from the bed to the case. It had never occurred to

her that Eulalie would be thinking in terms of marriage. Devlin might

be the outcast of the mighty Brandon clan, but surely he would

hesitate to commit himself to anyone in Eulalie's position. Unless, she

thought achingly, this was to be his final act of revenge against

Marcelle Brandon. What price the Brandon pride, when the nephew

of the house married his aunt's servant girl?

'You—think he will marry you?' she managed. Sleeping and waking,

since her discovery of the woodcarving at the beach house,- the

thought of Eulalie in Devlin's arms had been hideously at the

forefront of her mind. She knew, to her cost, what a demanding lover

he would make, and the thought of Eulalie satisfying those demands

on a purely physical level had been an agony to her. But his wife!

That implied a level of trust, of mental as well as physical intimacy

which she would never have guessed existed between them.

Eulalie grinned triumphantly, as if she could read the tenor of

Christina's thoughts and was amused by them. 'Oh, I think so, English

girl.' For a moment she pressed her hand against her rounded

stomach. 'When he knows what I carry.' Her smile widened as she

saw how pale Christina had gone. 'You said you had nothing to give

me,
m'mselle.
Perhaps I give you something, instead.' Her hand

dipped into her overall pocket and came out holding a tightly rolled

wad of notes. She tossed it on to the bed beside Christina. 'Take it,

English girl. Going away present.'

She left the towels on the dressing table, and walked out of the room.

Christina sank down on to the bed, her legs refusing to support her

any longer. So Eulalie was to have Devlin's child. She supposed it

was inevitable, or had it been a deliberate ploy to bind him to her

irrevocably? An unbearable picture rose in her mind of Devlin, the

cynical lines wiped from his face by a new tenderness as he looked

down at the sleeping child in his arms. And it came home to her with

all the force of a blow how much she herself wanted to bear him that

child. With a groan, she forced herself to her feet again, dragging her

fist childishly across her eyes, refusing to permit the threatened tears

to fall. Eulalie had prophesied they would soon forget her once she

had departed. Perhaps she also would be able to forget—in time.

She was crazy to feel like this, she told herself vehemently, as she

tossed the last few things into her case and closed the lid. They were

all still strangers to her—Devlin most of all. She had only been

among them a matter of days. Logic insisted that it should not drag

the heart out of her to leave. Just because a man with silver eyes and a

body as taut as whipcord had held her in his arms, that was no reason

to take one wild leap into the realms of fantasy. Devlin Brandon, as

she saw him, did not exist. He was merely a myth, manufactured in

her mind,
a casual
rake who helped himself to women as he would

take another cheroot. Just another Brandon, exercising a different

form of power.

She was well rid of him. She choked back a sob. She was well rid of

them all.

She took a last unhappy look around her room, checking that she had

forgotten nothing. She had debated with herself whether or not to

leave a note for Mrs Brandon, but had decided against it. The pathetic

figure who hady crouched in the chair beside her bed the previous

day might have excited her compassion, but the ruthless manipulator

of other people's lives who had deliberately lied to her in order to

keep her on the island did not.

She carried her cases down the stairs from the gallery, and round the

side of the house, pushing them under a large flowering bush from

which Lorna would collect them when the coast was clear. Then she

returned to her room to regain access to the main part of the house. As

she walked down the big staircase, Lorna was waiting at the bottom

with Madame Christophe behind her. Lorna said calmly, 'Louis is

bringing the car round, Christina. I told him one of us needed to go to

La Villette. Shall we toss for it, or will you volunteer?'

'It's all right.' Christina lifted her chin, hoping she looked more

composed than she felt. 'I'll go.'

The minutes of waiting seemed endless. Lorna had tactfully vanished

again after giving her a last reassuring smile, and Christina felt very

alone suddenly. She walked restlessly over to the front door and stood

staring up at the vivid blue sky where some fragile white wisps of

cloud floated. She knew she had plenty of time to get to La Villette,

but all the same she wished Louis would hurry. It was as if at any

moment she expected to see Mrs Brandon coming down the staircase

in pursuit. She gave a little shiver and glanced over her shoulder, but

she was still alone in the hall. Only the great statue of the Archangel

watched her departure. She looked at it uneasily. Was it just her

overheated imagination again, or did the towering figure with the

upraised spear have a kind of warning about it—as if to remind her

that the devil was not yet fully subdued?

She told herself firmly she was being ridiculous, and at that moment,

the big grey car rolled to a halt at the foot of the steps.

She was very quiet as the car bumped and lurched its way to La

Villette. Louis too was uncommunicative, preferring to whistle softly

under his breath as he steered. Christina stared through the

windscreen, a prey to her own thoughts. The first thing she would

have to do would be to find herself somewhere to stay. She would try

and find a small hotel, the sort of place that catered for families, and

see if they would allow her to lodge there for a limited period in

exchange for
j
her working for them. She would do

anything—chambermaid work, or even help in the kitchens if

necessary. Then she would write to Mr Frith, detailing her plight. She

had left Eulalie's roll of money where it had landed—on her bed. Let

the Brandons make what they would of that, she thought.

It occurred to her suddenly that even allowing for the shortcomings of

the road, the car seemed to be behaving J rather oddly. Louis tugged

at the wheel, frowningly, then pulled the car into the side of the road

and got out. When he returned, his face was lugubrious, and he was

stripping ; off his coat. 'Puncture,
m'mselle,''
he announced, and went

to get the tools out of the boot.

Christina concealed a groan. In normal circumstances, they were

making good time on the journey, but she had no idea how long it

would take Louis to change the wheel, and this could make all the

difference. He was certainly starting proceedings in a decidedly

leisurely manner, as if he ; had all day ahead of him, and there was no

way she could chivvy him along without arousing his suspicion. She

got : out of the car restlessly and wandered round to watch him at

work. She supposed she could not blame him for taking his time. It

really was incredibly hot, without even the hint : of a breeze.

'Are you going to be very long?' she inquired, trying to ; sound casual.

Louis shrugged. 'Just as long as it takes,
m'mselle,''
he returned

unhelpfully. Christina turned away, suppressing her irritation with an

effort. She walked slowly along the grass verge, looking down over

the sheer sprawl of the cliff beneath. Devlin's beach house lay in one

of those coves 1 below her, she thought, and found herself wondering

what 1 he was doing at that precise moment. Probably out on
Moon

Maiden
searching for the elusive wind, she thought.

At least that was a more comforting thought than some that had

occurred to her. She turned and strolled back towards the car. Louis

did not seem to have made much progress. He seemed to be having

trouble in detaching one of the nuts and was swearing softly to

himself. Christina maintained a tactful distance, and tried not to

glance too obviously at her watch. The precious moments were

ticking' past-at a relentless rate, she saw with alarm, and Lorna had

warned her that the boat for Martinique left strictly on time. She

looked restlessly up the road, trying to conjure up . another vehicle.

But if one came, what could she do? What excuse could she fabricate

that would convince Louis it was in her best interests to accept a lift to

keep an apparently non-urgent appointment rather than wait while he

changed the wheel?

She strolled over to Louis and watched his struggles. Should she offer

to help?

He glanced up at her, sweat pouring down his brown face. 'Thirsty

work,
m'mselle,
' he gasped. 'You go sit in the shade. I be finished here

soon.'

But how soon was soon? Christina wondered as time dragged on and

little progress seemed to be made. Louis got the wheel off at last and

crowed with triumph. Christina felt like joining him. If he hurried