Henry opened the door to my room and I stepped inside, already wincing. I tentatively opened one eye to see a Tudor facsimile of my Santa Marita bedroom in all its minimalist glory.
French windows hung with sweeps of ivory voile looked out onto the lake, ready to flood the vast chamber with morning sun from first light, and ancient waxed floorboards emanated subtle aromas of beeswax and lemon oil and led my eye to a bed that made my own look like some sorry workhouse truckle: the vast white sheets seemed to glow in the lamplight and more than anything I wanted to dive onto the bank of perfectly arranged cushions and pillows and sleep for a month. The only thing I would need to remove was a ridiculous teddy bear wearing a sweater in Albermarle colours, perched on top of the centre cushion.
‘It’s to your liking, then?’
I was too exhausted to bitch. ‘It’s beautiful. Someone’s gone to a great deal of effort. Was this you?’
The man flushed with a pleasure that suggested praise was a rare thing. He was already on my side. ‘Well, I did have a little help.’
‘And those roses are incredible.’ I walked across the room to touch one delicate, milky petal. A dozen stems, some still in tight bud and others already blooming into softly fragranced splendour, stood in a crystal vase on the mahogany dresser.
‘Ah, can’t take the credit for them, I’m afraid. They were grown here on the island, though. We have a very talented young gardener. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll bring the rest of your luggage to your room, shall I? Then you can grab yourself a nice hot bath and relax before dinner.’ He paused in the doorway, suddenly embarrassed. ‘Um, I know this is rather awkward Ms Bresson, but Lady Albermarle likes me to have a quick peep in our guests’ cases, just in case they’ve accidentally brought anything with them that might be against the ethos of the island. Would you mind awfully if I checked through your things before you unpack?’
I was harshly reminded that this was no holiday. ‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Well, some people prefer Coyle to…’
‘No. I’d rather you did.’
‘Very good.’ Henry gave a deferential nod. ‘Dinner in an hour?’
‘Fine.’ I waited until he had left, then dropped onto the bed and swore in English, French and Spanish until I ran out of words.
*****
To my disappointment the cavernous bathroom didn’t have a shower, but it did have a magnificent Victorian roll-top bath that could have doubled as a swimming pool. I filled it almost to the brim and submerged myself in near-boiling water until I felt the warmth begin to return to my aching, chilled body.
I exhaled and let myself sink to the bottom until my head hit cast iron with a muffled thud. I counted to a hundred and eighty before my lungs began to complain and I had to resurface: this had been one of the exercises that had weaned me off two inhalers and a hefty dose of steroids for asthma so severe that I had been hospitalised more times than I could count, and now it calmed and focused me beyond measure.
Control. The one thing that shaped my life, and the one thing I felt that I was about to lose.
Chapter Six
Lilith
I had been standing in the oak-panelled drawing room for fifteen minutes. I had arrived five minutes early, which meant that the enigmatic Blaine Albermarle was ten minutes late.
Just as I glanced at my watch again, Henry reappeared with a bottle of wine. ‘Lady Albermarle apologises for the delay. Some last-minute business to attend to. Perhaps a glass of wine might help?’ He proffered a green bottle wrapped in a white linen serviette. ‘Pouilly Fuissé. I believe it’s your favourite?’
‘Thank you.’ I held out a heavy, intricately carved glass to be filled. The wine was perfect, and as I stood there in the candle-lit silence, the first glass disappeared before I knew it. Just as Henry sidled up to refill, I heard the approach of clipped footsteps.
‘Lilith, darling. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.’ A rich, warm voice broke through the hush, and I finally turned to greet my host. Blaine Albermarle in the flesh was every bit as stunning as her photograph, and at nearly six feet tall in a pair of vertiginous heels, she towered over me. She wore a dramatic chocolate-coloured sleeveless gown that emphasised her hour-glass waist and impressive cleavage, and I was glad that I had made the effort to put on a favourite blue satin dress in a hue so dark that it matched my hair. ‘It’s an honour to have you at Albermarle.’ She leant down to kiss me gently on both cheeks.