He sat looking over the sea. Then he did talk a little.
He said: “I’ll kill him.”
“It would change nothing.”
“It would be a blessing for mankind.”
“Bertrand, don’t talk like that. It would be a double tragedy if you gave way to revenge.”
I was thinking: You would never do it. You could not. He would never allow it and he is the one who calls the tune.
Bertrand took my hand and pressed it. I tried not to show how I shrank from his touch.
Everything was changed. I believed I would never be able to shut out of my mind the images which crowded into it, and Rollo de Centeville dominated them all.
I did not think Bertrand wanted to marry me now. I had seen that look of revulsion in his eyes when he had looked at me in that bed. It was not that he did not believe I had been tricked and forced against my will . he believed all that without a doubt. He saw me as the victim I had been; but at the same time he could not forget that, as the Baron said, I had been his mistress.
I could never marry Bertrand. Everything between us had been over since that moment he came into the bedroom.
So for once Rollo would not have his way. The object had been to make Bertrand eat his words. He would marry one of the Baron’s castoff mistresses . so he had thought. He was fooled at last, for there would be no marriage.
I was glad to be alone.
His last words were: “I will write. We will work out something …”
I smiled at him. I knew it was over.
I leaned over the rail looking at the swirling water and I was filled with an angry resentment. I thought of that Kate Collison who had crossed the Channel not long ago setting out on a dangerous adventure.
And dangerous it had certainly been, for I had come within the orbit of that strange man, the barbarian who had changed my life.
Fury seized me. He had dared use me because he wished to show that he must be obeyed. Bertrand must obey him. It had nothing to do with his desire for me, which I had believed must have been great for him to go to such lengths to satisfy it.
That was the ultimate humiliation. That was what angered me deep down more than anything else that had happened to me.
Away in the distance I could see the white cliffs. The sight had a healing effect on me. I was going home.
Nicole
It was a strange feeling travelling through the Kentish countryside.
The orchards, the hop fields, the oast houses, the meadows and the little woods, they all seemed so fresh, even after the summer. They looked the same as I had seen them many times before. It was I who had changed.
People would surely notice. I could not be the same. I did not look quite the same. Would they ask questions? How should I answer them?
One thing I knew and that was that I could never bear to talk of the shameful thing that had happened to me.
It seemed that every day my hatred for that man grew more intense. If he barbarian that he was had greatly desired me, although I could not have forgiven him, perhaps I might-beneath my resentment have felt a little flattered. But it had not been like that. He had merely wanted his revenge on Bertrand and he had used me for that purpose, taken me as though I were some inanimate object to be picked up and thrown aside when he had finished with it. That was how he saw all people. It did not occur to him that they might have feelings . or did it? Perhaps he simply did not care that they had. Everything . everyone . was for his pleasure.
Well, he should not score this time. He had ruined my life . and Bertrand’s too perhaps . but he was not going to get the result he was looking for. His plot was going to fail. He could say that I had been his mistress albeit most unwillingly-but he could not make me marry Bertrand.
We could snap our fingers at him.
But I must stop thinking of him. He was over as far as I was concerned. I hoped never to see him again. I had to think of myself and what I was going to do. There was only one way to act and that was to carry on as though this had never happened.
Could I do that? I would soon be put to the test.
I took the station fly and very soon I was getting out at the familiar house.
There was a cry from within.
“She’s here. It’s Kate.”
And they were running out. I saw my father first and his face was shining with happiness.
“Kate!” he cried.
“Dear Kate.”
Then I was in his arms. He held me away from him and studied me. I felt myself flushing. Was it obvious? But he gave no sign of anything but the utmost joy . and pride that more than anything.
“My dearest child,” he said.
“It was a great success … beyond my dreams.”
I thought: His eyes are not strong enough to notice the difference.
I saw Clare then. She was standing shyly in the background. Some of the servants were with her Mrs. Baines the cook and Jerry the handyman, and the maids. They were all grinning their pleasure.
Clare came forward and took my hand tentatively. I kissed her.
“You look well,” she said.
“We were all so happy to hear that the picture was such a success.”
Mrs. Baines had cooked a steak pie. I had liked it as a child and had been eating it frequently ever since because it was said to be one of my favourite foods. Supper would be served early, she said. She reckoned that travelling whipped up the appetite.
Clare took me to my room.
“Oh Kate,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re back.”
I looked at her steadily and said: “You know about my father now.”
“Yes, he told us all when he came back.”
“What is it going to do to him?”
She was thoughtful.
“Oddly enough,” she said, ‘he doesn’t seem as upset as you would think. It was due to all that success you had. He told us about it. How that Baron was it? had a special gathering and introduced you, and how you were going alone to do the miniature of the princess and how you had other commissions. He feels his talent is a precious gift and it has been passed safely into your hands. “
“You really think that’s how hf feels?”
“Oh, I do. He has talked to me about it.” She lowered her eyes almost apologetically.
“I think it’s because of Evie … and my being a connection of hers. He feels he can talk to me.”
“It’s for you yourself, Clare,” I assured her.
“Evie was a wonderful rock for us, but she wasn’t particularly sympathetic about our painting. She said it was ” very nice” but I think it was only acceptable because it was our livelihood. He feels you understand, Clare.”
“Oh, I do hope so.”
“One senses it,” I told her.
“You must have had a most exciting time. You look … I waited apprehensively.
“Different,” she finished.
“Different?”
“Well… more worldly, I suppose. Naturally you would … travelling and being recognized. It has made a difference in you. You look … shall I say? … poised.” She laughed.
“Don’t ask me to explain. I was never good at explanations. When you have washed and changed do go and talk to your father. He is so longing to have you to himself I went to him as soon as I could. He was in his study. Hanging on the walls were two miniatures-one he had done of my mother and the other of me as a child. They were exquisite pieces of work his best, I always thought. He would never part with them.
“Kate,” he cried.
“It is good to have you home. Now tell me everything.”
Everything? I should certainly not do that. I wondered fleetingly how my dear, good and rather innocent father would have reacted to the rape of his daughter.
“The Princesse’s miniature …” he went on.
“It was approved.”
“Did the Baron come to see it?”