Chapter Twenty-Eight

      ‘The dress looks divine on you, Cheska,’ Diana said. ‘Perfect. I’m so glad I remembered I had it in the stock room.’

      Smiling, Francesca turned to look at herself again in the cheval mirror. The evening gown Diana had loaned her from the boutique was made of silk velvet in a lovely shade of clear amethyst. The skirt was cut on the cross, flaring to the floor, and the close-fitting bodice had a low scooped-out neckline and long sleeves. It was elegant and its svelte lines made her look more lithesome than ever, whilst the colour was immensely flattering to her fair English-rose complexion and honey-blonde hair.

      ‘Yes, it is nice,’ she agreed, swinging back to face her cousin. ‘Actually, if it’s not too expensive, I think I’d like to buy it. I could do with it, to tell you the truth. Most of my evening clothes are horribly dull.’

      ‘Oh do keep it, Cheska. It suits you so well, and naturally you can have it at cost.’

      ‘That’s sweet of you, but you sold me the yellow ski outfit for practically nothing –’

      ‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you pay the boutique price,’ Diana exclaimed. ‘Anyway, I feel pretty awful. It was my stupid fault you didn’t bring any evening clothes with you. My only excuse is that when you rang to say you were coming to Wittingenhof, I forgot all about the dinner party in my excitement.’

      ‘You mustn’t feel badly, Dibs. And you’ve been a darling about the clothes. I’m very grateful. And I did want to get myself a few things with the money I earned for scouting locations. It’s ages since I’ve had anything new.’

      ‘Then it’s settled. Tomorrow, when Victor’s off skiing, I want you to go down to the town and pick out anything you want from the shop. In the meantime –’ Diana stopped and looked at Francesca closely, her head on one side, her expression assessing. ‘I want you to wear this tonight.’ As she spoke she brought her hands from behind her back, took a step forward and handed Francesca a red leather case. ‘I think this will add just the right finishing touch.’

      Francesca stared at Diana and then at the case. She opened it and caught her breath. ‘Oh how beautiful.’ Her eyes widened as they focused on the three-strand choker of lustrous creamy pearls nestling on the red velvet.

      ‘Here, let me help you.’ Diana lifted the choker out of the case and fastened it around Francesca’s neck. ‘Turn the clasp to the front,’ she suggested. ‘Yes, that’s right. Let it rest there in the middle of your throat.’ Diana smiled. ‘I suddenly thought of this because the clasp has an amethyst in the centre. See how it picks up the colour of the dress. Marvellous.’

      ‘Diana, what a gorgeous piece. I’ve never seen you wear it though. Is it new?’

      ‘It was Grandmother’s. She gave it to me for Christmas.’

      ‘It’s so nice of you to lend it to me. Thank you. But don’t you want to wear it yourself tonight?’

      ‘No. My dress has a rather high neckline so the choker wouldn’t look right.’ She moved towards the door, halted and turned. Her eyes rested on Francesca lovingly, and she said with a rush of genuine feeling, ‘I’m so happy for you, Cheska. Really happy. And you see, I was right. I told you everything would work out, didn’t I?’

      ‘Yes.’ Francesca’s mouth curved up in a happy smile and her eyes shone. ‘Victor said Wittingenhof was magical, and so it has proved to be. For me. Oh Dibs, he’s wonderful.’

      ‘And a pretty cool customer,’ Diana laughed.

      ‘What do you mean?’ Francesca’s face was instantly touched by apprehension.

      ‘Darling, don’t get upset. I wasn’t being critical. I was referring to his behaviour at dinner last night. He certainly kept a poker face. As a matter of fact, you astonished me too. You were extraordinarily contained yourself.’

      ‘Well, I had to be. Victor thinks we should be discreet. He’s afraid of gossip, as I explained before. Naturally he realizes you know about us, but he doesn’t think we should flaunt our relationship in front of you and Christian either. He –’ Francesca hesitated and rolled her eyes upwards, then confided, ‘Do you know, this afternoon he actually spent a good fifteen minutes explaining how we’re going to act towards each other tonight. I couldn’t believe my ears.’

      Diana burst out laughing. ‘You’re joking. And how are you supposed to behave?’

      Francesca also began to laugh. Recovering herself, she said, ‘Like a chum, what else?’

      ‘And presumably he’ll be cool and faintly distant with you. Am I correct?’

      ‘Of course you are.’

      ‘Well then, so be it,’ Diana shrugged. ‘After all, it’s not so important in view of his true feelings. Now I must scoot, otherwise I’ll be greeting our guests in this dressing gown.’

      Once she was alone Francesca walked to the dressing table and sat down. As she placed the jewel case on it her eyes lighted on the card, She picked it up and read it again. For you, baby. Because you are. Victor.

      The card had been attached to the package she had found on her bed, when she had gone to her room to freshen up just before they all sat down to a very late lunch, delayed until Diana and Victor had returned from skiing. She had not understood the words until she had ripped off the paper. It was the largest bottle of perfume she had ever seen, and it was Joy by Jean Patou. She had been thrilled by his message, his meaning, as well as by the gift itself. Moreover, she had recognized the writing at once. She had seen it before – only last week, on the card which accompanied the truckload of flowers from Moyses Stevens. Francesca smiled.

      Removing the stopper, she dabbed her wrists and the cleft between her breasts with the perfume, loving its scent, which was full-bodied and floral. She had never been able to afford Joy. He’s so terribly extravagant, but the most delicious man, she thought, aware of the trouble he had taken to obtain the perfume for her. That afternoon, when they had been together in her room, Victor had explained that Jake Watson had purchased it for him in London, along with a collection of the latest Frank Sinatra records for Diana. All had been in his suitcase with his dinner jacket, which had arrived in Königssee around noon, also courtesy of Jake.

      ‘Poor old Jake undoubtedly thinks I’m up to no good by now,’ Victor had chortled. ‘What with romantic records, expensive perfume and my dinner jacket. And he’s right,’ he had finished gleefully, pushing her back against the pillows and finding her mouth with his.

      A