Marta to bring in a very special wine she had been saving for such an occasion. Her energy and charm immediately lifted the atmosphere, and Marta bustled off down to the wine cellar. She wasn’t sure what bottle of wine Sylvina was talking about but she scoured the shelves and selected a Château Margaux ’78. Leaving the cobwebs and thick layer of dust behind, she hurried back to the dining room and passed Sylvina the dusty bottle. ‘Marta! The cobwebs! You know I hate spiders.’ She rose to her feet and raised her arms above her head. ‘Never mind, at least we know it’s authentic. Now, dear, please decant it and let it stand. We are all eager to taste it.’
Marta left the dining room and immediately replaced the bottle with a vastly inferior one. She decanted it, as instructed, into a Victorian cut-glass decanter, which was taken to the table by one of the waiters. Sylvina had often laid wagers with her as to who would detect a first growth from a simple Médoc. She looked around at her dinner guests as they peered and sipped at the wine and discussed its attributes. William picked up his glass and turned to face her. ‘This really is so very kind of you,’ he said, and obviously meant every word.
‘It is my pleasure,’ she said huskily. She had to wriggle in her chair because the thought of his money made her feel orgasmic.
‘To our mutual friend, Justin Chalmers.’
They sipped their wine and smiled. When she asked him what he thought of it he held the stem of the glass loosely in his fingers. ‘Not too heavy or fruity, quite light for a Pomero.’
William reached for his water. The wine was ghastly. If he had ordered it in a restaurant, he would have sent it back. He felt unable to bring up the subject of Justin himself, and hoped someone else would do so, but the conversation remained on the quality of the wine. It amused him to see them sipping and nodding.
Sylvina leaned closer to him. ‘I’ve even started making my own cobwebs – you know, from that stuff they squirt over youat kiddies’ parties. It’s cheap plonk, but you knew that. I could tell from your face.’
He smiled, pleased, then leaned closer to her. ‘No one else seems to.’
‘Even if they did, dahling, they wouldn’t say so just in case they were wrong.’
‘Are you expecting Justin for the summer?’ Terence Hampton enquired, after enthusing loudly about the wine.
Sylvina shrugged. ‘Well, it is his villa, but you know Justin. I hear he’s in Europe, so perhaps he will appear at some point, unless . . .’ She turned pointedly to William. ‘What do you know of our Scarlet Pimpernel, William?’
‘They seek me here, they seek me there.’ Between the arched oak dining-room doors stood Justin Chalmers, his shadow from the flickering candlelight falling across the table. He was as blond as William remembered, but his hair was short now, almost in a crew-cut. He was deeply tanned and wore a black T-shirt with one sleeve almost ripped from the seam, a pair of tight black leather trousers and black motorcycle boots. He had a row of fine gold bracelets around his wrist and a slender gold watch. He shook the bracelets in a theatrical gesture then yawned. ‘Eat up, and excuse the interruption. I need to bath and shave before I join you.’
William felt apprehensive. He had only ever met the man once, and then it was to tell him to get out of England. Now, driven by loneliness and relentless curiosity, he had blustered his way into his villa, having lied to the Countess. To his astonishment, Justin gave him a dazzling smile. ‘How nice to see you, Sir William. Quite a surprise.’ Then he turned and walked back into the hall calling over his shoulder, ‘Don’t let me interrupt your dinner further.’ He caught Marta as she was about to wheel in the trolley with the main course, cupped her chin and kissed her lips. ‘Who’s a good girl?’ he said.
‘I thought you’d want to know. I think he invited himself,’ Marta
Marta left the dining room and immediately replaced the bottle with a vastly inferior one. She decanted it, as instructed, into a Victorian cut-glass decanter, which was taken to the table by one of the waiters. Sylvina had often laid wagers with her as to who would detect a first growth from a simple Médoc. She looked around at her dinner guests as they peered and sipped at the wine and discussed its attributes. William picked up his glass and turned to face her. ‘This really is so very kind of you,’ he said, and obviously meant every word.
‘It is my pleasure,’ she said huskily. She had to wriggle in her chair because the thought of his money made her feel orgasmic.
‘To our mutual friend, Justin Chalmers.’
They sipped their wine and smiled. When she asked him what he thought of it he held the stem of the glass loosely in his fingers. ‘Not too heavy or fruity, quite light for a Pomero.’
William reached for his water. The wine was ghastly. If he had ordered it in a restaurant, he would have sent it back. He felt unable to bring up the subject of Justin himself, and hoped someone else would do so, but the conversation remained on the quality of the wine. It amused him to see them sipping and nodding.
Sylvina leaned closer to him. ‘I’ve even started making my own cobwebs – you know, from that stuff they squirt over youat kiddies’ parties. It’s cheap plonk, but you knew that. I could tell from your face.’
He smiled, pleased, then leaned closer to her. ‘No one else seems to.’
‘Even if they did, dahling, they wouldn’t say so just in case they were wrong.’
‘Are you expecting Justin for the summer?’ Terence Hampton enquired, after enthusing loudly about the wine.
Sylvina shrugged. ‘Well, it is his villa, but you know Justin. I hear he’s in Europe, so perhaps he will appear at some point, unless . . .’ She turned pointedly to William. ‘What do you know of our Scarlet Pimpernel, William?’
‘They seek me here, they seek me there.’ Between the arched oak dining-room doors stood Justin Chalmers, his shadow from the flickering candlelight falling across the table. He was as blond as William remembered, but his hair was short now, almost in a crew-cut. He was deeply tanned and wore a black T-shirt with one sleeve almost ripped from the seam, a pair of tight black leather trousers and black motorcycle boots. He had a row of fine gold bracelets around his wrist and a slender gold watch. He shook the bracelets in a theatrical gesture then yawned. ‘Eat up, and excuse the interruption. I need to bath and shave before I join you.’
William felt apprehensive. He had only ever met the man once, and then it was to tell him to get out of England. Now, driven by loneliness and relentless curiosity, he had blustered his way into his villa, having lied to the Countess. To his astonishment, Justin gave him a dazzling smile. ‘How nice to see you, Sir William. Quite a surprise.’ Then he turned and walked back into the hall calling over his shoulder, ‘Don’t let me interrupt your dinner further.’ He caught Marta as she was about to wheel in the trolley with the main course, cupped her chin and kissed her lips. ‘Who’s a good girl?’ he said.
‘I thought you’d want to know. I think he invited himself,’ Marta
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