CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Delia left Rio the day the Carnival parades began, and as she was driven to Galeao airport she had a glimpse of, the groups of colourful dancing, singing people winding their way through the streets of the city to the rhythmic beats of the sambas and the bossanovas specially composed for the occasion.

Her leave taking from her newly-found Brazilian friends was very Brazilian, a mixture of tears and laughter and many abracos. The flight was long and tedious above the dark waters of the ocean and she didn't sleep much.

The weather was cold and wet at Heathrow and the airport lounges were crowded as usual with people waiting to board planes or waiting to meet arrivals. But there was no one to meet her.

Biting her lip to keep back the tears of disappointment and tiredness which welled in her eyes, Delia found an empty telephone kiosk and searched through the directory for Ben Davies's home number. She had half-expected Edmund to meet her off the plane. She had hoped that Ben, to whom she had sent a cable saying when she hoped to be back, had been able to contact Edmund in some way and alert him. But it seemed as if that hadn't happened. Either Ben had not been able to find Edmund or if he had Edmund had decided he didn't want to meet her.

Ben answered the phone almost immediately.

'So you're back. About time too,' he growled. 'How are

you?'

'A little tired after that flight. Did you get my cable?'

'Yes, I did. What the hell are you and Edmund playing at?' he queried.

'We're not playing at anything. We missed each other in Rio through a misunderstanding and I don't know where he is any more. Didn't he phone you to find out if I was back?'

'No, he didn't. But I know that he's arrived in England. I phoned O.S.P.P. as soon as I received your cable yesterday morning and they said he'd been in to see them on Friday afternoon just after flying in from Rio. He left them saying he'd let them have his report as soon as he'd finished it./

'Didn't he tell them where he was going?' asked Delia.

'Yes, for once he did. He said he was going to attend to some family business. Hang on a minute—I have the name of the place right here.' There was a clattering sound as Ben put down the receiver. He was back in a few seconds. 'This is it. Chance Court, Hampshire. Mean anything to you?'

'Yes, oh yes, that's where his great-uncle, Justin Talbot, lives. I'll go there right away.'

'Now, hang on a minute, girl,' put in Ben. 'Have you any idea exactly where in Hampshire it is?'

'It's between Winchester and Salisbury, Wiltshire. Near a place called Middle Dene.'

'Hmm. I thought so, down in the deep south, you might say, miles away from anywhere. How were you thinking of getting there? ' asked the ever-practical Ben.

'Well, I suppose I could take a train to Winchester and then a bus from there to Middle Dene?'

'On a Sunday, in the winter?' Ben sounded scornful. 'I doubt if there are any buses going to a place like that today. You'd be better off going by car. Look, why don't you slay where you are and I'll come and pick you up? You can conic here for a bite of Sunday dinner. We're having roast beef and Yorkshire pud. We're in the right direction for Winchester and you can borrow Audrey's car. You could even phone ahead from here to make sure Edmund's at Chance Court before you set off.'

The offer of dinner and a car made her feel much better. She agreed. Going to Ben's house, taking his advice was preferable to doing everything on her own when she felt so tired and dispirited, and she settled down with a cup of coffee in a restaurant to await his arrival.

He came about three-quarters of an hour later and they went out to the car park where Ben's Yorkshire terrier Pinch was sitting on the back seat of his car looking very mournful.

'Before I came out" I looked up Chance Court and found the best way for you to go there,' said Ben as they drove out along the road to Windsor. In the distance the round tower of the castle looked dour and brooding in the grey light of the wet day, and staring out at the winter-bleached grass and the leafless trees Delia found it hard to realise that she was in the same world in which Posto Orlando and Binauros existed. The hot blue skies, the thick luxuriant growth of the jungle, the steamy atmosphere seemed like a fantastic dream.

'It's one of the stately homes of England. Gardens and some public rooms open to the public in the summer,' Ben went on. 'Did you know that?'

'No, Edmund never talked about it.'

'Funny lad, Edmund,' growled Ben. 'Very secretive, if you ask me. How did you and he get on in the jungle?'

'I thought we were getting on all right until I told him about losing the baby.'

'Took it badly, did he?'

'Very badly, 'she whispered.

Ben and his wife lived in a renovated eighteenth-century cottage close to an old square-towered Norman church in a tiny village near Ascot. Audrey met them at the door.

'Ooh, what a lovely tan you have, Delia!' she exclaimed. 'I bet you wish you could have stayed in Brazil. We've been having miserable weather here. Would you like a glass of sherry before you eat?'

Dinner as usual was excellent and Delia ate as if she had been starving for months. Afterwards she found the telephone number of Chance Court with the help of Directory Inquiries. A man answered the phone. He spoke coolly and a little stiffly and told her that Dr Talbot was staying at the Court but was out for the afternoon. Could he take a message?

'Just tell him when he returns that Delia called,' she replied breathlessly. She put down the receiver and turned to Ben. 'He's staying there,' she said, her eyes shining.

'That's fine. It isn't far, but it'll take you a good two and a half hours to get there and since it's nearly three o'clock now you best set off if you want to arrive before it goes dark,' Ben suggested.

Audrey's car was a small Austin. She explained its peculiarities to Delia and then stood back to wave goodbye as Delia backed it out into the road. Ben had a last word through the car window.

'Come back here if you're not invited to stay for the night,' he said with a cheeky grin. 'And take it easy. The roads are slippery.'

In spite of his warnings she drove as fast as the speed limit on the road to Winchester would let her. There wasn't much traffic because of the wet day and after an hour's driving she reached a roundabout where there was a signpost indicating that the road to Storton was to the right.

It was a narrow road and it seemed to wander about aimlessly. It climbed ridges and dipped down into valleys. It passed through small villages of thatched-roofed cottages and skirted round wide fields where clumps of trees raised bare branches to the lowering grey clouds. Sometimes it was enclosed by high hawthorn hedges and sometimes it was edged by stone walls over which she could see the land rolling away into a murky distance.

It went on for miles and miles and as she turned each bend Delia hoped to see a cluster of houses and a couple of church towers which would indicate that she had arrived at Storton.

Tiredness, the result of the long flight from Brazil to Britain, was beginning to nag at her nerves and make her eyes ache, and when she at last reached Storton she was glad to park the car in the wide main street outside the porticoed entrance to the hotel which had once been an old coaching inn.

She was served afternoon tea in a pretty chintzy dining room and was told by the pleasant friendly woman who served her that it was only ten miles to Middle Dene and that Chance Court was five miles beyond the village.

The ten miles along another even narrower, more twisting lane seemed to take forever, and lights were glowing from windows in the tiny village of Middle Dene. Delia drove straight through as instructed by the woman in the hotel at Storton and went along slowly looking for a turning to the left. It appeared at last. There was a signpost at the corner with the name Chance Court on it and, her spirits lifting, she turned into the lane.

Now all she had to do was look out for a fork in the road.

The rain which had held off for a while came down heavily so that she felt she- was driving through a thick grey haze. She switched on the headlights and drove a little faster and was past the fork in the road before she realised, going along the wrong lane, the one to the left instead of the one to the right.

Braking, she changed into reverse gear, backed up, misjudged the closeness of the wheels of the car to the grassy verge and felt the car tip sideways as one of its rear wheels sank into a ditch. At once she braked and changed gear again. The engine roared, the rear wheel which was sunk in the mud spun round, but the car didn't move. No matter what she did it stayed right where it was, stuck in the mud. She would have to walk the rest of the way to Chance Court.

Tying her scarf over her head to protect it from the rain, she scrambled out of the car, locked its doors and tightening the belt of her trench coat walked back to the place where the road forked and where a signpost informed her that she was on her way to Chance Court, once the home of the Chance family.

She walked beside a stone wall which was green with moss and overhung with hawthorns and wild rose bushes. The ditch between her and the wall was full of water gushing along noisily. Behind her she could hear the sound of a car approaching, the swish of tyres on a wet surface, the muted roar of an expensive engine.

She stepped on to the grass verge. The car passed her and she was sprayed widi mud churned up by its wheels. It came to a sudden skidding stop. Its stopping lights blinked angrily, then it began to come backwards, the reversing lights coming on instead of the stopping lights.

It stopped beside her. The nearside window was rolled down and a voice, a dearly-loved familiar voice spoke from within.

'Are you going to the Court? Can I give you a lift?'

Her heart beating wildly, Delia stepped forward and bent a little to peer in through the open window at the driver of the car and saw his blue eyes go wide in shocked surprise.

'Yes, Edmund, I'd like a lift, please. I'm going to the Court to see you,' she said, and he continued to stare at her which had been in amazement. 'It's really me—Delia,' she added frantically. 'Oh, unlock the door, Edmund, and let me in! I'm getting awfully wet standing out here.'

He leaned across and pulled back the lever to unlock the door. She pulled it open and slid into the seat beside him. The inside of the car was warm and soft music was coming from the radio. Taking off her wet scarf, she shook out her flattened hair and turned to him, smiling a little hesitantly. One elbow rested on the steering wheel as he supported his head on his Hand, still staring at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

'How did you get here?' he said at last in a croaky voice as if his throat was dry.

'By car. It's in the ditch on the other road,' she said. How different he looked from the last time she had seen him. Over an open-necked shirt and thin V-necked woollen sweater he was wearing a dark grey suede jacket which matched in colour his trousers of fine worsted wool. His hair had been cut and although it -wasn't very short it wasn't tangled, and the change in style made him look older, more severe and remote.

He switched off the radio but left the windscreen wipers and the engine going and looked at her again. Now that he was over the surprise his glance was more critical, a little cold.

'I don't want to appear too curious,' he said softly, 'but would you mind telling me where you've been since you left Posto Orlando?'

'I went to Rio with Rita as arranged. I stayed with her at her parents' house,' she replied, a little surprised by the question.

'You weren't there last Thursday,' he said tautly, and put the car into gear so that it began to move forward slowly.

'I know,' she said nervously, biting her lip and glancing away out of the window beside her. This meeting wasn't as she had planned it. He wasn't pleased to see her. 'Rita and I went to Petropolis.'

'Where the hell is that?' he growled.

'In the hills, behind Rio.' .

'But you left Rio last Wednesday,' he said, flicking her a cold glance.

'No, I didn't. I waited for you to come and you didn't come,' she explained.

'Couldn't you have waited a little longer?' he asked dryly.

'It was so hot and Rita suggested we should go for the day to see Manoel's parents. If you have any idea what waiting for someone is like you know that you're glad to fill in the time doing anything to take your mind off the possibility that the person you're waiting for might not come.' Her voice wavered, she swallowed and added more strongly, 'We left a message with the housekeeper to tell you and Manoel if you turned up or phoned that we would be back, and that you were to wait for us,'

He was silent. The car's engine purred softly and the windscreen wipers swished back and forth, sweeping away the grew rain. The long stone wall came to an end at a wide gateway guarded by big stone gateposts on which a coat of arms was carved. The car slowed down and turned in between the gateposts, gathered speed again and swept up a long winding dark grey driveway between two rows of oak trees towards an elegant stone house which stood on a hill overlooking sweeping lawns.

'What a lovely place!' exclaimed Delia, but Edmund didn't answer her but drove past the- house into a courtyard, bringing the car to a stop in front of a stable converted into garages. He switched everything off and gave her a hard unsmiling glance.

'Now that you're here, you'd better come in and do some explaining,'.he said.

'Thank you,' she said, and turned away quickly to open the car door so that he wouldn't see the sudden trembling of her mouth.

They walked through the drizzle to the front of the house and mounted the shallow steps to the front door. It opened slowly and a man appeared. He was tall, had thinning grey hair and looked very stern. He was dressed in a dark suit and a white shirt with a black tie.

'Good evening, sir,' he said, and sent a curious glance in Delia's direction.

'Good evening, Jonas,' said Edmund, and putting a hand under Delia's elbow urged her through the door and into a wide high entrance hall with a gleaming polished floor and an ornately-plastered ceiling.

'A young woman phoned, Dr Talbot. She wouldn't leave a message, just said to tell you Delia called,' said the man.

'This is she,' said Edmund, his v-oice softening a little with amusement. 'My wife. Jonas is the butler here, Delia, and has been with my Uncle Justin for nearly thirty years.'

'I'm pleased to meet you, madam,' said the butler coolly. 'May I take your raincoat?'

'Thank you,' said Delia, untying the belt. Jonas moved behind her and lifted the raincoat from her shoulders.

'Would you like some tea, madam?' he asked, placing the coat over his arm.

'Yes, please.'

'In the drawing room?'

'Would . . . would that be all right?' asked Delia nervously, finding his cold severe manner intimidating.

'No, it wouldn't,' said Edmund brusquely. 'I'd prefer to have it in the breakfast room. I hope you've kept the fire going in there, Jonas, as I told you. Brrr, this place is like a morgue!'

The butler tried not to seem offended, but didn't really succeed, and with a brief nod at Delia he marched off down the hallway with her coat.

'I think you've hurt his feelings,' Delia whispered to Edmund.

'I don't really care if I have,' he retorted. 'He doesn't like me and he never has. I don't fit in with his ideas on how a descendant of the Chance family should behave. Come on, let's go and sit by that fire. You must be feeling the cold as much as I am, having just come back from the tropics.'

She followed him across the shining oak floor to a half-open door and they entered a pleasant room panelled in oak and furnished with an oval table and spindle-backed Windsor chairs. A fire of smqkeless fuel flickered in the fireplace, a cheerful welcoming glow in the fast-dimming light of the wet February evening. Edmund pulled up a cushioned rocking chair to the hearth and suggested she sat down. He squatted down before the fire and held out his hands to it to warm them.

'Are you really a descendant of the Chance family?' she asked. ,

'Yes. My great-grandmother was a Chance. She was the last of the line. Her father died impoverished, leaving her this place. She married Mortimer Talbot, toffee maker—for his money, of course,' he said dryly, flicking her a sardonic glance. 'It was something which seems to happen regularly to Talbot men. She used his ill-gotten gains to preserve this place. When she died she left it to her younger son Justin, who seemed to be the only one interested in the place, and

unless I can do something very quickly he's going to leave it to me in his will.' His mouth curved in a mirthless smile. 'Ironic, isn't it, that I who want so little in the way of possessions and money should gather so much.'

'Hasn't he any children or grandchildren he could leave it to?' asked Delia.

'No, he never married. But he always had a soft spot for me ever since my father brought me to visit here when I was a boy.' He stared at the flames of the fire, his expression morose. 'Poor old Justin,' he said softly. 'He's in hospital now, in intensive care. That's where I've been this afternoon. I doubt if he'll survive the stroke. The message that he was ill was waiting for me at O.S.P.P. headquarters when I called in there on Friday.'

'I'm sorry he's ill,' Delia said quietly, and also stared at the fire as the gloom deepened in the room. Edmund reached and pulled a low stool from the corner beside the fireplace and without straightening up pushed it beneath him so that he was sitting on it still in front of the fire.

'How did you find out I was here?' he asked.

'Ben told me and he found out from O.S.P.P. when he received my cable asking him to find out where you were. He told me this morning when I arrived back from Brazil. Edmund, why did you let Zanetta do your phoning for you? Why didn't you phone Rita's home yourself?'

He glanced at her sharply. In the firelight his face had a ruddy glow which made his eyes seem more blue.

'I did. I spoke to the housekeeper twice.' He grinned suddenly and ruefully. 'To say the least of it, we had problems with communicating. I couldn't understand her accent, so in the end Zanetta offered to phone for me. All she said was that you'd gone away and that Rita wasn't there either, and I thought you'd . . .' he broke off and shaded his face with one hand. 'God, I don't know what I thought,' he muttered.

'I'd tried hard to reach Rio before you were due to leave, but there were so many damned silly delays on the way, and to hear that you had gone away only confirmed what I'd been expecting anyway.'

'You mean you didn't expect me to wait for you?' she exclaimed.

'I hoped you would wait, but I didn't expect you would,' he replied. He stared at the fire, his face set in bitter lines. 'I walked off and left Zanetta standing there.' He laughed shortly. 'God knows what she must have thought, but it doesn't matter anymore. What I don't understand is why didn't the housekeeper give Zanetta die whole of the message which you and Rita had left?'

'She was going to, but as soon as she had said I'd gone away Zanetta hung up, didn't wait.'

Edmund stared at her with puzzlement shadowing his eyes.

'Why?' he demanded. 'Why would she do something like diat?' Before she could answer there was a knock on the door of the room and it opened slowly. Jonas stepped in, flicked on the light switch so that two floor lamps came on to cast a rosy glow over the dark panelling. Stepping across the room, he pulled the heavy draperies across the window.

He was followed by a tall thin woman in a black dress who was carrying a big tray on which silver and china glinted. She set the tray down on the table and stood with her hands folded on her stomach to stare curiously with bright eyes at Delia.

With an expression of resignation on his face Edmund rose to his feet and stood with his back to the fire.

'This is my uncle's housekeeper, Mrs Mills,' he drawled. 'Mrs Mills, I'd like you to meet my wife.'

‘Welcome to Chance Court, Mrs Talbot,’ said the woman in a soft burring country accent. Here face creased in to a warm smile which made up for Jonas’s frozen looks. I’ve made some sandwiches and there’s a dish of trifle and some fruit cake. I expect you’re hungry after your journey down here. Would you like a fire lit in the bedroom. Dr Talbot?’

‘Is that possible?’ asked Edmund in surprise.

‘Oh yes.’

‘Then I ‘d appreciate it very much,’ he said ‘ Jonas perhaps you’d find a way of rescuing the car which Mrs Talbot came in out of the ditch on the Fallowdene road and bringing it here. What sort of a car is it, Delia?’

‘ A yellow Austin. It isn’t very far along. Here are the keys.’

‘Thank you, madam.’ Jonas took the keys from here. ‘ Is that all, sir?

That all, expect that Mrs Talbot and I would like to have our tea without any further interruptions. Is that clear?’ said Edmund coldly.

‘Quite clear, sir.’

The butler and the housekeeper withdrew and closed the door. Delia got to her feet and went to pour tea from the heavy ornate silver teapot into thin china cups.

‘And Jonas thinks you don’t know how to behave like a Chance,’ she teased, handing a cup of tea to Edmund, who had just sat down in the rocking chair leaving the stool for her. ‘It seems to me you did a very good imitation of someone who might be lord and master of this house just now.’

‘If I didn’t speak to him like that he’d start ordering me about in the way he’d order old Justin about for the past thirty years,’ he retorted. ‘ And he so damned nosy. Has to know everything. He’ll be back, you’ll see, on some excuse or other, just to see what you and I are doing.’

He let his breath out in a sharp short sigh. ‘ What the hell am I going to do with the place if Uncle dies and I inherit it? I don’t want it’

‘You could live in it, or least in part of it, like your uncle has.’ Delia suggested and bit into a sandwich. It was wafer-thin and filled with some sort of shrimp mixture. It was delicious and went in two bites. She helped herself to another and passed the plate to Edmund, who took a handful of them

‘Imagine me living in a place like this,’ he scoffed. ‘It’s too big. Even if…’ He broke off, scowled and began to eat the sandwiches.

‘Even if what?’ Delia prompted

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he muttered. ‘ Why do you think Zanetta hung up before the housekeeper finished giving her the message?’

She told Rita that she’d thought that was all there was to know. But Carlo believes she did it deliberately.’

‘Carlo?’ he queried giving her a hard look over the rim of his teacup. ‘So he was there too, was he? Did he say why he believed that?’

‘Yes.’ Delia stared into flames of the fire. ‘ Zanetta was being like Peter. She was jealous of me in the same way Peter was jealous of you. She wanted to come between us. She knew you were hoping I’d still be in Rio and she tried to make you think I didn’t care enough about you to wait. She hoped you would stay in Brazil with.’ Delia paused and since he didn’t say anything asked, ‘Would you like some trifle or fruit cake?’

‘Trifle,’ he muttered absently But I’ll get it . He went over to the table and behind her she could hear the clink of a spoon against glass dishes as he served the trifle. He came back, thrust a full dish at her and sat down in the chair again to stare at the dish he was holding for himself. He shook his head slowly from side to side as if puzzled.

'I don't know where Zanetta got the idea that I was interested in her,' he said suddenly. 'If I ever thought of her at all it was as a doctor, and not a very good one at that. She had no real concern for the people she was supposed to be healing and she was a dead loss at Fenenal.'

'She told me that she'd only gone as a volunteer because she wanted to be near you after she'd met you. And she did save your life.'

'Did she tell you that?' He was both amused and amazed. 'What a lot of nonsense! I'd have survived without her hovering around me bathing my brow every few minutes and taking my temperature,' he added scornfully. 'She was a damned nuisance. I had to tell her to clear out so I could sleep.' He shrugged. 'What the hell! I was fool enough to believe what she said, that you'd gone away.'

'In the same way you believed Peter,' Delia muttered miserably. 'Where did you go when you walked away from her?'

'Walked about in circles as if I were punch-drunk,' he replied self-mockingly, 'and then went by taxi to Galeao airport to see if I could fly to England that day. I was lucky and when I reached London I went straight to the flat. One look at the dust on the furniture 'and I knew you weren't there and hadn't been there for some time. I went to O.S.P.P. then tried the flat again later without any luck. Then I phoned Ben at his office. I was too late, the place had closed for the week-end. I had no idea where he lived, so I gave up and drove down here.' He stood up and went to put his empty dish on the table. 'More trifle or tea' he asked politely.

'No, thank you.' She stood up too and went to put her dishes on the tray. 'Why did you want to find me?' she asked tentatively.

'To ask you why you hadn't waited for me,' he replied coolly.

'Oh, if only you'd trusted me, none of this would have happened,' she cried out, suddenly tired of the way they were dodging round the real issue. 'If you'd taken a taxi to Rita's home instead of to the international airport you'd have found out I'd waited for you. But you trusted Zanetta more than you trusted me. You trusted Peter more than you trusted me.' She swallowed, searching for the courage to say something which had to be said. 'I don't believe you love me,' she accused in a low voice. 'If you loved me you'd trust me . . . oh, Edmund, please don't look like that! What are you going to do?'

His hands had shot out and were about her throat and he was glaring down at her, his eyes bright and hard.

'You might well look frightened, darling,' he said between set teeth. 'I'm pretty close to wringing your neck !'

'Why? What have I done?'

'Something you're always doing, accusing me of not loving you,' he said softly, stingingly, his hands relaxing but staying where they were, the finger tips moving slightly suggestively on- the skin of her throat. 'I married you because I love you.

I left you because I loved you, because I couldn't bear the thought of you being unhappy married to me, to give you a chance to divorce me. I went away, far away, cut all connection hoping to get you out of my system. I thought I'd succeeded. I thought I was self-contained again when you turned up at Posto Orlando and although I tried to keep you out, you began to take over again, to separate me from sanity . ..'

'Ahem!' The cough was loud enough to make them both look round in surprise. Jonas was standing just inside the door of the room, and Edmund sighed with exasperation. His hands fell away from Delia's throat and he thrust them into his trouser pockets.

'I thought I told you we weren't to be interrupted,' he grated. 'What is it now?'

'Mrs Talbot's car, sir. Price, Mr Justin's chauffeur, has managed to pull it out of the ditch and it is now parked in the stableyard.

'Thank you, Jonas,' said Delia.

'Not at all, madam. I hope everything is all right, madam?'

'Yes, thank you.' Delia smiled at him and to her surprise he smiled back.—if you could call the faint movement of his severe mouth a smile.

'Is that all, sir?'

'Yes, that's all, Jonas.' Again Edmund sounded as if he were talking through set teeth. 'You may go. And don't come back.'

'Very well, sir.'

He picked up the tea tray and went off towards the door. There he turned and said stiffly,

'The fire is lit in the bedroom now. It should be warming up nicely.'

He walked out, leaving the door slightly open. They waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded, then looked at each other again. The blaze had faded from Edmund's eyes. They were dark and sombre as their glance went to her throat.

'Oh God, I've hurt you again,' he groaned, touching her throat with gentle fingers. 'Yet I love you and only you. That's why I left Fenenal before I should have done, to try and be in Rio before you left. That's why I followed you, or

thought I'd followed you to London as soon as I could. That's why I don't want you to come to the jungle or any of those other places where I have to go in case you catch a fever and die. I love you. You're inside me here.' He touched his head. 'And I can't get rid of you. I've been going through hell these past few days wondering where you ¥/ere, wondering if I'd lost you again because I was so bloody-minded about the baby. That's why I behave crazily when I see you with another man . . . God, Delia, what else do I have to say to convince you?'

'Nothing, nothing, nothing—I'm convinced!' She was laughing and crying at the same time. 'Oh, Edmund, I love you too, that's why I want to be where you are always. Please can I stay the night here with you? Please !'

Her hands were on his arms, her face was lifted in appeal.

'I wasn't thinking of letting you stay the night anywhere else,' he murmured, framing her face with his hands. 'So shall we start all over again?' he asked.

'I thought we had, in a hammock in the jungle,' she whispered.

'On our second honeymoon,' he added, his eyes gleaming with tender laughter as he bent his head to kiss her. Their lips met tentatively. His arms went around her and suddenly passion flared and their bodies swayed with the intensity of their feelings as they clung to each other, oblivious to the -knock on the door and the quiet swish of it being pushed open.

'Ahem, excuse me, sir.' At the sound of the cool incisive voice they broke apart and turned to stare at Jonas.

'What's the matter now?' demanded Edmund roughly.

'We . . . that is, Price and I ... were wondering if Mrs Talbot will be needing her car again tonight. If not Price will put it away in the garage with yours, sir, if he may have your keys. It's a very damp night and it won't do the cars any good at all to stand out in the rain.'

'Here.' Edmund tossed his keys across the room, and looking very affronted Jonas caught them. 'Mrs Talbot is staying the night and will stay here as long as I have to,' added Edmund crisply. 'Now is that all, Jonas?'

'Yes, sir. I think so, sir.'

'Then goodnight.'

'Goodnight, sir, madam.'

He went away. Edmund grabbed Delia's hand and pulling her after him went out into the hall too.

'Where are we going?' she asked as he made for the elegant curving staircase.

'To bed. It's the only place I can think of where we can talk without any further interruptions. At least I think we can. I think there's a lock and key on the door.' . The bedroom was wide and lofty, lit by glowing, dancing firelight which glinted on the triple mirror of the dressing table and on the brass rods of the bed ends. Edmund flicked a switch and the bedside lamps came on.

'What a huge bed !' exclaimed Delia.

'Sleeps about six,' replied Edmund, taking off his suede jacket and throwing it across a chair. 'A bit different from a hammock in the jungle with the drums beating outside the hut!'

'I haven't any nightclothes with me,' said Delia, hugging herself with her arms. Even in her woollen pant suit and rolled-neck sweater she could feel the cold seeping into her. Only near the fire was it warm.

'I haven't any either,' said Edmund. 'I had time only to buy the clothes I'm wearing on Friday.' He stripped off the V-necked sweater and his shirt and began to take off his trousers. 'The idea is to undress as fast as you can and leap

into bed and huddle under the blankets. I'll get in first and warm the sheets for you.'.

In the middle of the big bed they lay entwined, not making-love, content to be there close together in the fire-glow.

'I'm still finding it hard to believe we're together again,' Edmund murmured.

'How long do you think we'll stay at the Court?' she asked.

'I don't know. It depends on what happens to Uncle Justin. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now I can think of more important things to do.' His mouth hovered close to hers. 'There's just one thing, Delia, before we go any further. Do you want to have another baby?'

'Would you like to have one?' she countered. 'If we had another would it help you to forgive me for losing the first one?'

He groaned and buried his face against her shoulder.

'There was nothing to forgive,' he whispered. 'It wasn't the loss of the baby that made me lash out at you. It was being left out of something which was important to both of us. Afterwards I realised you'd had to suffer much more. You'd had to go through it alone. I won't let you go through that again by yourself.'

'But supposing you go away again? I know you've been asked to work for the protection service in Brazil at Posto Orlando,' she whispered.

'I haven't decided yet,' he replied. 'And if there's the slightest chance of you becoming pregnant I'm not going anywhere that will take me far away from you until the child is born. But we'll talk about it tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow, tomorrow,' she repeated teasingly. 'How Brazilian you've become!'

'Perhaps,' he smiled. 'Or perhaps I've learned at last to put first things first.. Mmm, you smell of sandalwood and your skin is smooth and soft and you don't seem to have any bones,' he said softly. 'Tell me, darling, have you always gone limp and quivery when I've kissed you—like this—or when I've touched you—like this?'

'Always,' she moaned ecstatically, pressing herself close against his hard warm body.

'Then I think you should know that it has the most devastating effect on me,' he murmured, his mouth against the soft swell of her breasts.

This was the Edmund she had fallen in love with, gently mocking yet exquisitely considerate of her needs. But now she knew that there was much more to him than the tender coaxing lover and that loving him meant accepting the whole man.

'Oh, Edmund, I do love you,' she whispered. The feeling seemed to well up and overflow.

'Even though I've hurt you and might hurt you again?'

'I've hurt you too,' she said, twisting her fingers in his hair. 'It's all been a part of learning to love.'

'I've been thinking along the same lines myself,' he jeered gently, and she felt his breath feather across her mouth, then his lips were against hers, hard and possessive, and she lost all sense of time and place. She knew only the quick urgent demand of his body pressing against hers and the quick leaping of her own desire before their minds and bodies fused in perfect union.

And afterwards there was silence as they slept in each other's arms in the middle of the huge bed while the fire died down slowly and the room became dark.

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