Dorothy Eden by Sinister Weddings Page B

If so, they were harmless enough, for Dove, tied to a dull husband, could not provoke much trouble. The thing was pathetic, really. The most disturbing factor was Paul’s weakness for attractive women. But perhaps these low round hills covered with their coarse snow-grass and brooded over by the chill mountains had frightened him with their loneliness, too. Now she was here, she told herself firmly, it would be different.
    “What I came for,” she went on, “was to see if you could help me make some curtains. I’ve found some absolutely gorgeous material that’s never been taken off its roll. Old Mrs. Blaine must have bought it once and never got round to using it. It would make wonderful curtains for the living room downstairs.”
    “I could cut them for you,” Dove answered. Her voice was not friendly yet, but it was a little less grudging. She was recovering from the embarrassing fact of what Julia might have overheard at the door.
    “That would be wonderful,” Julia said. “Could you come over this afternoon? I thought I’d try to get them done while Paul is away. Lily might be able to help, too.”
    But there Dove’s eyes flashed with contempt.
    “Lily,” she said, “I would hardly think so, Miss Paget.”
    Julia was left to read what she would into that remark. Was it Lily’s inefficiency Dove despised? Or was she simply jealous of her?
    The material Julia had discovered was a heavy cream brocade decorated with fleurs-de-lis. It was rich and ornamental, and it gave Julia great pleasure to handle it and experiment with ways of hanging it. She tried to concentrate entirely on it, and not allow herself to brood at all on the small, disturbing facets of Paul’s character which were gradually being disclosed to her. Supposing she discovered that she had been in love with a person who existed only in her imagination? But that couldn’t be so. For she had that very precious letter to prove that Paul was really the man she loved. You are my sun, moon and stars … he had written.
    So she knew that under Paul’s careless light-hearted exterior there dwelt that sensitive imaginative person who drew her to him as inexorably as tides to the moon.
    Nita said she was useless with a needle. Anyway, she was not even politely interested in Julia’s plans, and sat curled up on the couch smoking interminably and watching with that scarcely veiled contempt in her eyes. (Why was she always contemptuous? Julia would not let herself fret about that any more than she would about Paul’s flirtatious habits.) Kate bustled about, and seemed on the verge, all the time, of proffering eager advice, but clearly Nita’s presence prevented her. Kate did not like being weighed down by grief. She would prefer to turn from it and pretend it did not exist. But Nita’s dark tense face constantly reminded her that life was not all the bright frothy thing Kate ardently desired. So she was unhappy and uncomfortable in the presence of her bereaved daughter-in-law. Kate did not face realities, Julia decided.
    Dove Robinson proved to be surprisingly clever with a pair of scissors, and Lily, under instructions, moved the step ladder about and made measurements.
    It should have been fun, Julia thought wistfully. But there were too many women in the room, and all of them were secretive. It was clear that Lily despised Dove as much as Dove despised Lily, and Nita was sardonically amused about them both. The conversation was limited to the commonplace. The only consolation was that Georgina was upstairs taking her afternoon nap so that one did not have her vague distracting remarks to cope with.
    “The house needs more light,” Julia said energetically, tugging at the old faded red-velvet curtains that darkened the room to a constant twilight.
    “You’re wasting your time,” Nita observed. “You’ll never get light into this house.”
    Was that remark double-edged, as were most of Nita’s? The girl waved her cigarette idly, and said,