‘Why were you even looking at them?’ She swung her legs out. ‘Who gave you permission?’
He looked at her, his upper lip curling slightly, as if she were mad. ‘They were here on the desk, for anyone to see. Besides, Mallory told me you were having difficulty with some business matters. I know how to read contracts, Grace. I do it all day long. You should have shown them to me as soon as they came in the door.’
‘Mallory?’ They’d been discussing her behind her back? ‘What has she got to do with anything?’
‘Nothing. My God, you’re touchy!’ He turned round in his chair to face her. ‘I rang her, all right? I wanted to know that you were safe.’
‘Then why didn’t you ring me?’
‘Because,’ he stood up, ‘you weren’t listening to me! Were accusing me of having an affair. What is wrong with you this morning?’
Grace turned her back on him. It felt as though her head was going to explode. He was too big, too loud; took up all the space in the room. No sooner had he arrived than he was going through her papers, telling her what to do, ringing her friends. Grabbing a dress from the wardrobe, she marched into the bathroom.
When she came out, Roger was going through the documents she’d signed with Monsieur Tissot. ‘We absolutely need to have these translated properly. And I’m going to ring this Edouard Tissot and get him to meet me here this afternoon. I’m telling you, this is negligence,’ he insisted, shaking his head. ‘I cannot believe that you would sign anything without consulting me first, Grace. This could be a serious mistake. Have you any idea what the going rate of property is in this area? You’re lucky I found them in time.’
Grace picked up her handbag and coat. Put on her hat.
Roger took off his glasses. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I need some fresh air.’
‘You can’t leave now, Grace. You need to tell me exactly what you’ve done here. We have to go through these. Don’t you understand? This affects both of us. Who is this Eva d’Orsey, anyway?’
She opened the door. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. And these are my affairs, Roger. They do not concern you.’
The first place she went was to Mallory’s room but there was no answer.
After scanning the dining room and terrace, Grace eventually found her sitting in one of the corner sofas in the drawing room, writing postcards.
Mallory smiled. ‘Hello, stranger. Feeling better?’
Grace threw herself into one of the armchairs across from her. ‘Roger is here.’
‘He’s here?’ Mallory looked up, shocked. ‘In Paris?’
Grace leaned in close. ‘Why did you tell him about the inheritance?’
Mallory put down her pen. ‘You mean you haven’t?’
Grace ran her fingers over her eyes. It was as if the walls were closing in around her. Paris, where she’d felt so autonomous and free, had overnight become as suffocating as London. ‘He’s into all my papers now, Mal. He’s ringing the lawyer, he’s going to have the contracts translated.’
‘Well,’ she said, frowning, ‘isn’t that rather a good thing?’
‘No, Mallory. It isn’t.’
‘You don’t think he might be useful?’
‘This is my affair,’ Grace insisted. It had never struck her before how crucial it was that she figure out these questions on her own; how deeply her autonomy mattered to her.
Mallory’s brow furrowed; she bit her lower lip. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I thought you were, well, out of your depth. When he rang the other night, he sounded genuinely concerned. He told me he just wanted to know that you were all right. I had no idea you hadn’t told him. And I certainly didn’t know that he was going to turn up. Honestly, darling,’ she put her hand over Grace’s, ‘I just wanted to do what was best for you.’
Grace stood up. ‘This isn’t it.’
‘How can you be sure?’
Grace looked at her. ‘I . . . I don’t know,’ she floundered, taken aback. Mallory had hit a nerve; Grace was normally the confused one, the one floating aimlessly, stumbling in the dark.
‘Well,’ Mallory sighed, ‘what is best then?’
Grace pulled her coat on. Even Mallory doubted her. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Where are you going?’ Mallory got up too.
‘I need to be alone.’
‘Wait!’ Mallory took her arm. ‘Did Roger apologize? Tell me, what did he say?’
Mallory’s face was so intent.
Grace stared at her, trying to yank her mind back into focus. But it wouldn’t go. For some reason the whole question of Roger, of what he said or did, didn’t matter as much as something else – something she couldn’t quite define. It hovered just out of reach of her awareness, like a shadow.