‘We’re not,’ William had said petulantly.
‘We’re under the same roof, dearest, and that to Meryl Delaware means we’re swinging naked from the light fittings. We must appear to be above reproach, exceedingly respectable.’
‘Fine. Go ahead and do what you want.’ William was growing bored with her constant requests for hand-outs.
Sylvina insisted on installing a maid, cook and butler in her new home and ordered that the floral displays be changed every three days. She adored her luxurious surroundings, but William was irritating her. She tried to contact Justin, but after leaving several messages she gave up. She knew that William and he kept in regular touch, but when she asked how the ‘project’ was coming along William said simply that it was costing enough to be more than just ‘coming along’ and he hoped it was almost completed. So did his financial adviser, who had demanded a meeting to discuss the island situation.
‘I have the money, haven’t I?’
‘Well, yes, of course, Sir William, but I also have to do my job, and I am advising you—’
‘Don’t. I know what the costs are and I have agreed to them. That is all you need to know.’
‘And the house in Mayfair?’
‘That is also acceptable. My fiancée requires her own establishment so, if there is no other business, please excuse me.’
Yet again, the idea occurred to them that perhaps Sir William was having a breakdown.
As they left his office, Michael was waiting to usher them out. ‘What do you know of this Justin Chalmers?’ Mr Flynn asked. He and his company had worked with William for many years, but Mr Flynn had never been spoken to so brusquely or kept so much in the dark by William as he had today.
‘I’ve never met him, Mr Flynn,’ Michael said quietly, afraid to be overheard. ‘I did check up with some interior designers I know of, and they have no idea who he is, but...’ Michael hesitated ‘...I think he was an associate of Andrew Maynard.’
Mr Flynn nodded. ‘I see,’ he said, but he didn’t really, and he was rather annoyed at the way he had been treated. But, as Sir William had said, he had the finance to do what he wanted, so if this island was what he wanted then so be it. Mr Flynn would keep the money flowing out.
The past months in London had been enjoyable to begin with, especially as William watched people’s attitudes change towards him. But the ‘intended marriage’ was now constantly raised by the press. Reporters asked ceaselessly for an announcement of the wedding date. But there was to be no date, no marriage. William knew he must do something radical. Sylvina just repeated that he had jumped the gun in announcing it. She felt that to all intents and purposes she had done her job: it appeared he was already accepted socially again.
‘You were invited to Baron and Baroness von Garten’s summer festival, two people you had on your list. You wanted to be acknowledged by them. I just don’t understand why, after the lengths we went to, you turned down their invitation.’
‘That, my dear, was the whole point. I wanted to turn it down. I can’t stand the bloody sight of him, or his stuck-up bitch of a wife.’
She sighed. ‘Fine. Well, what about Lord Hangerford? He’s underlined on the list, and I’ve made contact. You’ve been asked to dinner and the races. You’ve turned him down too. I thought you wanted to get to know these people.’
‘I did know them,’ he said angrily.
‘So why have you had me pulling these strings?’
‘You’re missing the point!’ he shouted.
She sighed. ‘William, what is the point? You pay me to have you reintroduced and accepted socially, and now you tell me you don’t want to be.’
‘I don’t want to socialize with them... not yet.’
‘Oh. Well, why don’t you tell me when you do? In the meantime I’ll just stay at my house and wait for your call.’ In a flash she regretted having said this. ‘Are you backing out of the deal we had?’ She was panicking.
‘No. All I feel is that it’s got out of hand. I’m grateful, you’ve done a good job, but I think maybe it’s boring me now, as much as it is you.’
‘Is that my fault?’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just... I’m tired of it all.’
‘You’re tired! Well, let me tell you, I’m exhausted. All right, you’re paying me, but I’m not only exhausted. Most of the time I’m bored out of my mind by these people.’
‘Don’t get tetchy,’ he said.
‘I’m not tetchy, I just want this all over and done with, and it appears you do as well. So, pay me off, and let me get back to my own life.’
‘That’s all this has really been to you, isn’t it? Money,’ he said glumly.
She wanted to scream, but she took a deep breath, crossed over to him and slipped her arms around his neck. ‘Sweetie, I am what I have always been, and I have never led you to believe otherwise. You’ve always known this was a game. You instigated it and I have played my part. I have not had an affair, I have remained, ready, willing and able, at your beck and call. But it’s almost a year... so let’s part as friends.’
He removed her arms from around his neck. Yet again she was taken aback. His voice was soft, hardly audible. ‘If I’d offered more money, would you have fucked me?’
She laughed. ‘Christ no. Well, maybe. If the price was right, who knows?’
‘Someone of your age should be—’ He never got out the word ‘grateful’ as she slapped him across the face.
‘Don’t throw crass remarks, Willy. If I’d have opened my legs, you’d have dived in. I’ve earned every penny, so please don’t try and back out.’
‘Not just yet. There’s one person you’ve not brought to the table. Humphrey Matlock. You’ve not even got close to him.’
Sylvina clenched her teeth. She had really tried, but Matlock was a hard man to get to. He appeared to loathe social functions and, in any case, was often abroad. When he was in London, he went fishing at weekends or whenever he could get away.
‘William, Humphrey Matlock’s a very unsociable creature and, to be honest, I wouldn’t include a newspaper magnate as high priority for social standing.’
‘Bullshit! Newspaper magnates are high in the social pecking-order. I want to meet him,’ he said pettishly, ‘but on my terms. I want that son-of-a-bitch to want to meet with me.’
‘Right. Come hell or high water, I will arrange for you to do that. But please pay me, William, and let me get out of here. Otherwise we’ll end up hating each other and I honestly don’t want that.’
He took out his cheque book, and dangled it in front of her. ‘You get me to Humphrey Matlock. Forget everyone else.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Have you tried picking up the phone and calling him? You’re on the front page of every bloody glossy magazine, some of which he owns. Meryl Delaware’s been working overtime for you.’
‘What?’
‘Pay her and she’d work for Jack the Ripper — she even works for Matlock but she can’t get close to him either. She’s never met him.’
‘I want him to want to know me,’ he said again, thrusting out his lower jaw.
Sylvina looked at the cheque book, and bit her lip. ‘Okay, I’ll arrange it. I’ll see if Meryl Delaware can help, but it’ll cost.’
Two days later an innocuous piece in one of the gossip columns said that all seemed to be going well for the new ‘golden couple’, Sir William Benedict and Countess Sylvina Lubrinsky. Shortly afterwards, William received a gold-embossed invitation to a midsummer fête at the Matlocks’ country home. He propped the invitation on the mantelpiece and stood looking at it, his hands stuffed into his pockets. When Michael walked in, William pointed to it. ‘What a two-faced piece of shit, eh?’ Michael took the invitation down to read it. ‘That’s the son-of-a-bitch who ran filth about me for months. Every one of his papers ran lies about me, and now, a year later, he invites me to his home.’