Hypnotized(26)

‘Breakfast will be served from seven until nine, or if you prefer you can ring for it to be brought up.’

Then he opened another door, which revealed a connecting door. He opened that door and Beryl stepped into the room that she had been assigned.

After he had gone Beryl knocked on the connecting door.

‘Come in,’ I called.

‘Isn’t this amazing? Can you believe people actually live like this?’ she asked and sank onto the green brocade sofa.

‘It is an unfair world we live in,’ I said mildly and disappeared into the bathroom.

When I came out with the tooth glass Beryl jumped up.

‘Oh good. A dressing drink? I’ll have one too,’ she said and went off into her room then returned with her tooth glass. I opened my bag and poured us both a healthy slug of whiskey. Beryl didn’t stay long. She wanted to look her best for dinner. I sat on my own watching the logs in the fire burn. Evening fell and brought with it a sense of timelessness. I merged into it together with all those people who had lived there before.

I was feeling mellow and peaceful and could have sat there with only me for company when Beryl knocked on the door forty minutes later.

‘What do you think? Is it too little or too much?’ she asked.

She was wearing a long blue dress that had a slight shimmer to it and a sunburst necklace with matching colored stones. I knew she bought them especially for that night. I smiled, feeling a great burst of tenderness for her. ‘You look lovely.’

‘You really mean it?’

‘Have you ever known me to say something I didn’t mean?’

‘That’s true.’

I pulled myself out of my chair and shrugged into the jacket I arrived in.

‘Aren’t you going to dress for dinner?’

‘Nope.’

‘You’ll be the only one.’

‘So?’

She widened her eyes. ‘OK, boss.’





13



Marlow


‘They don’t spend much on heating, do they?’ Beryl said with a shiver as we walked along the freezing corridor.

To access the Green Saloon we had to cross the Marble Room. A large room filled with fine French furniture, precious carpets from the Middle East and stuffed full with priceless works of art. It gave the impression of unrivaled luxury, but once again I had the distinct impression that the house was stalked by a frightening loneliness.

A footman—not the one from earlier—held open a set of tall double doors and ushered us into the Green Saloon. It was another opulent room with more works of art and expensive antiques, but it was much warmer here. A waiter stepped forward and asked us what we wanted to drink. Beryl ordered a glass of white wine and I asked for an American size double measure of Jack Daniel’s. The British idea of a double is laughable.

‘Right away, sir,’ he said and disappeared.

There were about twelve to fifteen people milling around, talking in small groups, but at our entrance almost everyone stopped talking, and was either openly or surreptitiously sizing us up. Maybe I’d had more whiskey than I had intended, but all the men appeared to have been dressed by the same tailor.

Almost immediately my gaze tangled with Olivia’s. She was conversing with a middle-aged couple, but she threw a shy smile in my direction. I nodded and looked away, and my eyes fell upon our hostess. Lady Swanson was standing by the super-large marble fireplace listening attentively to a tall, balding man. As I watched she broke away and came toward us, smiling as if seeing us was a dream come true.

‘Hello, how terribly sweet of you to come all the way from London,’ she trilled.

‘It was kind of you to ask us, Lady Swanson.’ I nodded toward Beryl. ‘This is Beryl Baker, my assistant.’

She smiled charmingly. ‘But of course, I remember you.’

‘You have such a beautiful home,’ Beryl gushed.

‘Yes,’ she said with a little laugh, ‘we rather like it, but it can be frightfully dreary down here, you know. No proper restaurants or theaters and freezing pipes all winter.’

‘I wouldn’t mind. It’s so beautiful,’ Beryl said. Her little face was quite red with excitement. ‘Oh, and thank you so much for inviting me.’

‘Not at all. I’m delighted to have you both here.’ Lady Swanson leaned forward, her eyes sparkling as if she was excluding the rest of the room, and sharing an intimate secret that only Beryl and I were privy to. She was a socially expert individual of the highest order, obviously. ‘Was there a lot of Friday traffic on the roads?’

‘No. It was fine,’ I said, hiding my amusement.

Beryl was still nodding vigorously in agreement when I cast my eye out for the waiter. He was walking toward me with a straight back and a tray with a glass of wine and my whiskey placed on a napkin square.