Katharine was equally immaculate about herself, and was heavily addicted to perfumes and deodorants as if she was afraid that her own very natural and feminine body odours might possibly give offence, and she used breath sprays, mouth wash and toothpaste lavishly. Not surprisingly, she had an enormous distaste for anyone or any place that was dirty, grubby or unkempt.
The tranquillity, orderliness and coolness of the dressing room was like a balm to Katharine after the intensity of the lights and the heat of the stage, and particularly so tonight. Maggie had asked to leave an hour earlier than usual to attend a special family gathering, and Katharine had agreed at once. Maggie’s absence was welcome, and she was glad to be alone to collect herself. She struggled out of the Grecian costume, laid it on the small sofa.
Seating herself at the dressing table Katharine removed the tiresome wig. As she did she experienced a lovely sense of freedom. She unpinned her own hair and shook it loose. After brushing it vigorously until it gleamed, she tied it back with a white cotton bandana, and then creamed off the heavy stage make-up until there was not the merest trace of it left. A folding screen camouflaged a wash basin in the corner of the room, and now Katharine stepped behind this, where she gave herself a thorough body sponging. She then washed her face, cleaned her teeth, gargled, dusted herself with talcum powder, sprayed on deodorant, perfumed herself with Ma Griffe scent and so finished her evening toilette, which was invariably something of a ritual with her.
Whilst she dressed Katharine contemplated the evening ahead and suddenly she wished she had arranged the supper for tomorrow night instead. The two performances had vitiated her energy, and she, who was normally so full of vigour at this hour, felt ready to curl up and go to sleep. But she knew she had to pull herself together, strike a pose of sparkling gaiety and be entertaining for a few more hours. Certainly it was impossibly late to cancel the evening, and undoubtedly Kim was already patiently waiting at the stage door as arranged. And of course there was Victor, who was going directly to the house in Chesterfield Street. She sighed. Having paid punctilious attention to every detail and carefully contrived this entire situation, she was now hoist by her own petard. If only my throat weren’t so sore, she said to herself, sliding the pure-silk-and-lace slip over her head. God, I hope I’m not really getting a chest cold.
This thought was so alarming it propelled her across the room to the dressing table. She pulled open a drawer and took out the bottle of cough medicine she kept there. She was sparing with the mixture because it had a high alcohol content, and on several occasions it had made her a trifle whoozy. She gulped down the medicine and grimaced.
Lowering herself into the chair, Katharine leaned forward and examined her face in the mirror. At least she looked in perfect health, and she recognized she must do everything in her power to ensure this state of well being. Under no circumstances could she permit herself to become sick. The next few weeks were going to be the most important weeks of her life. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with her plans, so diligently and painstakingly formulated. Nothing and nobody.
How hard she had strived to arrange everything to her advantage, to manipulate events, to make her dreams come true. They had to come true. They just had to! Her face, so tender and young, tightened with intensity and her heart raced as she envisioned her triumph if she succeeded in all that she planned. Not if but when, she chastised herself firmly. She was not even going to acknowledge the possibility of failure.
Still preoccupied with her rapidly moving thoughts, Katharine brushed out her hair, carelessly stuck two combs at each side, pulling it away from her face, and filled in her mouth with lipstick. Without even a cursory second glance at herself she rose and went to the wardrobe. She slipped on the black dress, stepped into the black suede pumps and added the turquoise silk scarf at her neck before pulling on the black wool coat. She took a pair of white gloves from the drawer, picked up the black suede handbag and glided to the door.
For a moment her hand rested on the knob. She let her body go slack, and took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds. And then drawing on all of her inner resources and every ounce of energy she could muster, she straightened up, stiffened her back and threw back her head. Consummate actress that she was, Katharine was able to summon any facial expression and mood at will, and she assumed a demeanour that was carefree and vital before stepping out into the corridor. And her step was remarkably determined as she mounted the stone stairs.
Kim, who was hovering near the stage door chatting to Charlie, the doorman, excused himself and rushed forward when he saw her approaching. ‘Katharine darling, you look absolutely ravishing!’ he exclaimed, his eyes fighting up. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Thank you,’ Katharine said, giving him a glowing smile. She squeezed his arm affectionately and looked up at him through sparkling eyes. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting.’
‘Don’t give it another thought,’ Kim replied quickly. ‘And at least it’s stopped raining. It was coming down in torrents when I arrived.’
‘Good night, Charlie,’ Katharine called as Kim bustled her out of the door.
‘’Night, Miss. And ’ave a nice evening.’ Charlie nodded in Kim’s direction. ‘And you too, yer lordship.’
‘Good night, Charlie. And thanks so much for entertaining me.’
The door slammed behind them and Kim took hold of Katharine’s arm, hurrying her down the narrow alley adjoining the theatre. ‘Let’s get to the car before it starts pouring again.’
‘Tell me, Kim, how was old Charlie managing to entertain you?’
Kim chuckled. ‘He was regaling me with marvellous stories about the “stage-door Johnnies” he has known in his time. He was frightfully funny, and even a bit risqué.’
‘Oh, and does he think you’re one?’ Katharine asked. ‘Are you his idea of a modern “stage-door Johnny”?’
‘Most probably!’ He glanced down at her. ‘I must say, old Charlie is very devoted to you, Katharine.’ He hesitated before adding. ‘And so is Terrence Ogden. He stopped to exchange a few words with me when he was leaving, and he positively raved about you. He also seemed a bit curious about this evening and our plans. He said he had wanted us to join him at the Buxton, that he had invited us.’
Katharine experienced a small jab of astonishment, and thought: invited us indeed. She said slowly, ‘Yes, he’s having a few chums to supper.’
‘Well, you do agree, don’t you?’
‘Agree about what, Kim?’
‘That Terry is devoted to you.’ Kim coughed behind his hand, and his voice was gruff as he ventured, ‘Actually, I think he has a crush on you.’
Laughter bubbled up in Katharine at the absurdity of this idea, and she was unable to suppress it. She looked up at Kim, her eyes crinkling with merriment. In the faint light from the street lamp she noticed the look of gloomy consternation on his face, and knew she must reassure him instantly.
‘Of course he doesn’t! He was only raving about me tonight because I helped him out in the second act. He almost blew his lines. And as for the invitation, well, he was just trying to be sociable, that’s all.’ Katharine was not sure she believed her own words. Perhaps Kim was correct in his assumption. If so it would explain Terry’s churlish attitude after she had refused the invitation, and his comment about Victor also. But she had no intention of confirming Kim’s suspicions. Rather, she had to allay them, and immediately. ‘Anyway, Terry is in love with Alexa Garrett. They are having a wild and highly-publicized romance, don’t you know?’
‘I see,’ Kim said, sounding less than convinced, even though he knew she was being truthful. He had seen items about Terry and Alexa in the newspapers. On the other hand, Terry had spoken very possessively about Katharine, and in a manner which disturbed Kim. ‘Why does he always call you Puss?’ Kim asked, striving for an off-handed tone without much success. ‘It seems awfully familiar to me.’
This comment momentarily floored Ka
tharine, and she was about to point out that the theatre, by its very nature, bred familiarity, but changed her mind. She was aware of Kim’s tenseness, and sensing the question sprang from a spark of jealousy rather than any oblique criticism of her, she explained, ‘Because when I was a student at RADA, Terry saw me play Cleopatra in Caesar and Cleopatra. He thought I was decidedly feline, and has called me Puss ever since.’
‘Oh,’ Kim murmured, at a loss for words. He looked at her through the corner of his eye and said, ‘I didn’t know you had been friends with Terry for that long. I thought you met him for the first time when you went into the play.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean by that long, Kim. I’ve only been out of the Royal Academy a couple of years. Anybody would think I’m a decrepit old woman, the way you talk,’ she laughed.
They had arrived at the car. Kim released her arm and went to unlock it. He returned and helped her in, then slid into his seat, and he was oddly silent as he drove up the Haymarket and into Piccadilly, heading in the direction of Mayfair. After a while Katharine touched his arm lightly and there was a soft expression on her face. ‘Terry’s not interested in me, at least not romantically, Kim. Honestly.’
‘If you say so,’ Kim replied grudgingly. It was not Katharine’s fault that Ogden had behaved like an ass earlier, and here he was being surly with her.
The last thing Katharine wanted was for Kim to be in a jealous frame of mind this evening because of its extreme importance to her. She needed his goodwill; furthermore she did not want him to be prickly or difficult with Victor present. She said carefully, ‘Even if he were attracted to me in that way, it wouldn’t matter to me. For the simple reason that I’m not interested in Terrence Ogden. Not the least little bit.’ She laughed disdainfully. ‘I know too much about actors and their monumental egos to get entangled with them, my love. Besides, you know I’m not fickle. How could I possibly care for Terry when I’m so involved with you.’
Kim visibly relaxed, and his wide smile virtually illuminated the little car. ‘I’m glad to hear that, Katharine darling,’ was about all he could manage at this moment. Kim knew that he had been leading Katharine along until she made some sort of verbal commitment to him. This was the strongest statement he had heard in the few months he had known her, but for the time being it sufficed. Within seconds his warm, easygoing manner was completely restored, and he eventually launched into a long story about the planting of new trees at Langley. Katharine settled back to listen, although this was only with half an ear.
She was engrossed in her own thoughts. Victor Mason was most prominent in them. She wondered if he had been to the play tonight, but more importantly, whether he had kept his promise to her. Quite unexpectedly, Katharine’s heart missed a beat and she caught her breath. For the first time she was struck by the precarious nature of her immediate plans. They hinged on one man—Victor Mason. If Victor let her down then she had wasted weeks of precious time, and everything would have been in vain. My God, if she had misjudged him the setback would be enormous. She clasped her handbag more tightly, and admitted, with a sinking feeling, that despite her meticulous planning, she had not allowed for one vital contingency: the possibility that Victor Mason might change his mind.
Katharine was a peculiar amalgam of naïveté and sophistication. Whilst she was inexperienced in some aspects of life, she nonetheless had an innate shrewdness and was perceptive about people, often displaying amazing insight. Her understanding of human nature was astonishing in one so young, and she rarely made mistakes in her judgment. She took solace in this now, deciding she had no alternative but to trust her instincts. They confirmed her original assessment of Victor as being wholly correct. She relaxed her grip on the handbag, absolutely convinced he had kept the promise he had made to her several weeks ago. Perhaps not out of friendship, or generosity of spirit towards her, but for one other very simple reason, and it was the most compelling reason of all. Self-interest. Victor Mason needed her, and she had astutely recognized this the first time she had met him.
Cynical as this thought was, it did happen to be the truth, and recalling that Katharine cheered up. Also, to her relief, she discovered she was feeling much better physically. The exhaustion which had been so debilitating at the end of the evening performance had miraculously disappeared. The quick walk from the theatre to the car had been invigorating, and the fresh air, damp though it was, had filled her lungs with oxygen.
‘Anyway, those trees do make all the difference at the far end of the Long Pasture, and Father is really pleased I thought of starting the small copse. It’s going to be invaluable in years to come,’ Kim was saying.
‘That’s wonderful. I’m glad it worked out so well,’ Katharine answered automatically. Kim was given to waxing eloquent about the land, and even though she had heard it all before, more or less, she always endeavoured to show real interest. She had come to understand, very early in their relationship, that Kim’s love of the land reached deep into his soul. He was a dedicated farmer, and would be for the rest of his life. Langley, and all it encompassed, was his life.
‘Well, here we are,’ Kim announced briskly, bringing the car to a standstill in Chesterfield Street.
Katharine said, ‘You know, you haven’t told me much about your sister, except that she’s pretty, Kim. Don’t you think—’
‘And I haven’t told her much about you either,’ Kim interrupted laughingly. ‘It’s better that way. Neither of you has any preconceived ideas about the other.’
‘But she must know I’m an actress.’
‘She does.’
‘Does she work? Does she do anything special?’ Although Katharine was neither nervous nor apprehensive about meeting Kim’s sister, she did harbour a few reservations, even doubts, about the chances of their becoming close friends. Lady Francesca Cunningham, titled in her own right as the daughter of an earl, might easily be one of those cold, snobbish debutantes so typical of the British aristocracy. The fact that Kim was the exception to the rule in this class-conscious society did not guarantee that his sister was cut from the same cloth. And if this was the case they would have little in common, and there would be no real basis upon which to build a friendship. Of course it wasn’t absolutely necessary for them to become bosom chums, Katharine acknowledged. As long as there was a cordiality between them everything would work out, and certainly it would make the situation much easier to control.
‘From your silence, I gather she’s a lady of leisure,’ Katharine went on lightly. Her fingers curled around the door handle and she made to alight.
Kim reached out and restrained her gently. ‘She doesn’t go to work but she does work hard,’ he explained. ‘She’s a writer. At the moment she’s doing research for an historical biography. She’s always poking around in history books and she’s practically moved into the British Museum. Anyway, she’s kind of artistic, so I know you’ll have lots in common. Don’t worry.’
‘Oh, I’m not in the least bit worried,’ Katharine assured him with a bright self-confident smile, and she meant every word, for few things ever fazed her.
Chapter Seven
The moment Katharine Tempest entered the drawing room Francesca’s eyes were riveted on her. She found herself staring in astonishment and she thought: This girl is too improbable to be real. Everything about her is improbable. Only Francesca’s good manners prevented her from displaying her startled reaction as she rose from the chair near the fireplace to welcome her guest.
The girl who walked with an easy swinging grace across the floor was obviously in her early twenties, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two. She wore an extremely sophisticated dress, and in consequence, to Francesca, she looked like a little girl dressed up in mother’s clothes. Made of fine black wool crepe, the dress was of mid-calf length, with a draped neckline, a straight skirt and dolman sleeves, and it was unrelieved by any touches of accent colour or jewellery. It struck Francesca that it was the perfect foil for the girl’s looks, and sh
e decided it was exactly right on her after all.
Kim followed closely on Katharine’s heels, smiling broadly, and when they neared the fireplace he stepped forward to introduce the two girls to each other.
As Francesca stretched out her hand she found herself looking into the most extraordinary face she had ever seen. Katharine Tempest was lovely, and breathtakingly so. Her eyes, not blue, not green, but a unique turquoise, made the initial impact, and they were startling in their vividness of colour. They were large and set wide apart, fringed with silky black lashes, and they appeared to swamp her face with radiance.
Francesca thought the girl’s features could not have been more exquisite if they had been chiselled by a sculptor. They were harmoniously distributed in an oval face that was perfectly balanced: a smooth brow, a small straight nose, high cheekbones above hollow cheeks, and a rounded chin. The symmetrical brows matched the rich dark-chestnut hair. This was parted in the centre and cascaded in glossy waves to her shoulders. Her white skin, which was exceptionally fine, was totally devoid of colour, which was why her full mouth, painted with the brightest of red lipstick, seemed all the more striking. Yet it was a child-like mouth, and now, as she smiled, it turned up at the corners to give her a look of innocence. There was also an unusual sweetness in her face that was both poignant and touching. In those first few moments, Francesca could only stand and stare speechlessly at this slender young woman who was accompanying her brother.