Seen By Candlelight. Anne Mather
tight smile. “What else is there to talk about?”
“We may go touring,” he remarked slowly. “We haven’t decided yet. Ruth adores being the perfect tourist.”
“Touring?” exclaimed Karen, raising her dark eyebrows. “That’s rather a strenuous way to spend your honeymoon.” She smiled suddenly, remembering. “Do you recall the months we spent in that villa near Nassau, with that gorgeous beach all to ourselves?”
Paul frowned and stubbed out his cigarette. “Yes, I remember.” he replied, his voice cold. Karen looked surprised and yet felt reasonably pleased. He had been so complacent, so confident, but the mention of their honeymoon still had the power to disturb him. Those halcyon days and nights were never to be forgotten, whatever Ruth might have to offer, and even Paul had to acknowledge this to himself.
Studying him when he was not aware of her doing so, she found repugnance in the very idea of his marrying another woman. After all, their marriage had seemed so right at first and seeing him now brought it home to her that divorce inevitably changes everything completely. She felt she wanted to reach across to him and have him look at her as he had used to look at her with love in his eyes. She wanted to tell him she still loved him and would go back to him today if he would have her.
But that awful thing called civilized conduct prevented her from doing such a thing and instead they exchanged platitudes and ignored the primitive emotions working beneath the surface.
They finished their coffee and Paul said:
“I’m afraid I must go now. I have a great deal to do this afternoon and I have a business engagement at three.”
Karen rose to her feet. “That’s quite all right, Paul. I’ve said what I came to say.”
Paul shrugged almost imperceptibly and then stood back to allow her to precede him from the room. Once outside, he pulled on his overcoat and said:
“My car is parked nearby. Can I drop you anywhere?”
Karen hesitated for a moment. She had no desire to prolong the agony, but she did intend going to see Lewis this afternoon, and now was as good a time as any.
“You could take me to Martin’s,” she said, looking up at him with a cool green gaze. “I want to see Lewis.” She said the latter part purposely and was amused when his face darkened slightly. It lasted only a moment and then it was gone, and he was nodding and assisting her down the shallow steps to the pavement.
The car was not far away and they walked towards it in silence. Karen had never seen this car before. It was a low-slung, continental car in cream with scarlet upholstery, and when Karen was put inside she found it superbly comfortable. The springing of the seats was luxuriously soft and it was like gliding on a bed of feathers.
“A new car,” she murmured softly. “Very elegant.”
Paul shrugged and slid behind the wheel, his thigh brushing hers for a moment, causing Karen to shiver slightly.
“I’m glad you like it. It suits me. It’s good for acceleration purposes which is what I need for some of the roads I have to cover.”
“It makes my old rattletrap seem very old and outmoded. But I like the old bus and it serves its purpose. I don’t use it such a lot.” Karen grimaced.
Paul glanced swiftly at her. “But you could afford a new one, couldn’t you?” It was a statement rather than a question.
Karen half smiled. “Of course,” she admitted easily. “But I don’t want one just at the moment. Oh, don’t worry, honey, I’m not a pauper yet, not by any means. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Paul flushed. “Why say something like that?” he muttered, “I don’t want to see you without means. Good heavens, I would be quite willing to help you if ever you needed money, surely you know that?”
Karen’s eyes widened. “Do I? Why should you imagine I would come to you for anything?”
Paul looked amused. “Well, haven’t you done just that thing?”
Karen flushed. “Very clever,” she said, annoyed with herself for being so rash. “Come on, let’s go.”
Paul shrugged and drove out into the stream of traffic.
Martin Textile Designs stood in a by-road off Great Portland Street. It was a tall, imposing building, although the basement and first floor were merely warehouses for another company. Lewis Martin’s domain occupied the upper floors with Lewis’s office being at the top. Karen had a small office of her own there, but she seldom used it, preferring to work at home.
Paul drew the large automobile to a halt at the entrance and said:
“I guess this is it,” in a lazy voice.
“Yes. Thank you for the lift,” said Karen politely, and made to get out.
“I’ll ring you as soon as I have any information,” said Paul, nodding.
Karen inclined her head and slid out on to the pavement.
“Thank you for lunch,” she said, rather sardonically. “I’m sorry I had to drag you away from your business.”
“It was a pleasure,” replied Paul, just as mockingly. “Be good,” and he put the car into gear and moved swiftly away before Karen could make some cutting retort.
Fuming, Karen walked into the building and entering the lift pressed the button for the fourth floor. As the lift went on its way she lit a cigarette and drew deeply on it. He was so assured, so confident and oh! so detached. She felt quite angry and she longed to be able to do something to shatter his complacency. How calmly he had discussed Ruth and his forthcoming marriage. How amused he had been at her obvious curiosity. Would he tell Ruth about it? Maybe laugh with her about Karen’s forced need of his help? She felt as though something shrivelled up inside her. To think of them together, discussing her, was disgusting and depressing. How aloof he seemed from the rigours of a disastrous love affair. How composed about his life with Ruth. With Karen he had had sometimes to bend his will to hers. With Ruth he would hold the upper hand and being the feminine creature she apparently was, she would enjoy letting him be the master. They would have no fierce arguments or even differences of opinion. She would be completely attuned to his every desire and act likewise. But surely, thought Karen desperately, that would become boring in time to a man like Paul. Variety was the spice of life and he needed someone to oppose him at times. At least so she had thought. Of course, if he got bored, he could always find himself another woman, and probably Ruth would not object too strongly if he kept it quiet. Karen stamped on the butt of her cigarette and ground it into the flooring with her heel. The lift reached the fourth floor. She had arrived.
She entered the outer office of Lewis’s domain and asked his secretary if he was free.
“Yes, Miss Stacey,” she replied, smiling. “Go right in. He is expecting you.”
Karen lightly tapped on Lewis’s door and then entered his office. It was not a large office but the wide windows gave the room plenty of light, giving an impression of space. Lewis himself was seated at his desk, studying some papers, and he looked up as she entered, a smile spreading over his face. He was a man of medium height, slimly built, with greying blond hair. He spent his leisure hours reading and writing articles for trade papers and consequently his eyes behind their horn-rimmed spectacles looked rather tired. But he was obviously pleased to see her, and she closed the door and advanced into the room, sinking down into a low armchair opposite him.
Perceptively, he said: “You look rather disturbed. What’s been going on?”
Karen flung herself back in the chair, helping herself to another cigarette. As she lit the cigarette and looked at Lewis, she thought reflectively that the contrast between Paul and Lewis was very considerable. Not only in looks but in manner.
“Let me relax for a moment and then I’ll tell you,” she said, managing a rather grim smile.
After