Celestria stood in front of the window to watch the sunset. The days were slowly shortening, summertime forced into retreat by an overzealous autumn. The light was amber. Soft and warm and sad somehow. The sea glittered and sparkled like copper beneath a sky darkening prematurely with clouds. Of all the nights, the drizzle had chosen tonight. There may even be a storm, she thought with rising excitement, envisaging pressing herself against Dan Willmotte for comfort as claps of thunder ripped apart the heavens. The water was calm. Ominously so. As if holding its breath for the inevitable tempest.
She studied her reflection in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. The pink dress looked stunning, complemented by the sparkle of her mother’s diamonds. She pulled her shoulders back, admiring the gentle sheen of oil on her skin. She would shine the brightest tonight. Only a lion would do, she thought smugly. She’d leave the buffalo to Melissa. Poor Lotty, so foolish to allow herself to fall in love with an unsuitable man, she thought gleefully, certain that she was too cunning ever to make the same mistake.
She waited in her room until she was sure that the rest of the family was downstairs. It was always fun to make an entrance. She heard them in the drawing room, their voices a low murmur, punctuated by sudden bursts of laughter. She closed the curtains. The sky was now a deep mauve, like a bruise, the sea already rousing itself for the oncoming storm. As she left her room she heard the first drop of rain break against the window pane.
The noise of voices grew louder as she walked up the corridor. She reached the stairs to be met by Poochi and a strong whiff of tuberose. They could only mean one thing: that her mother had waited to make an entrance, too. She might have known. When Pamela saw her daughter, her face shone with pleasure. “Darling, you look beautiful!” she exclaimed, casting an admiring glance over the dress. In her daughter she saw the beauty she had once been and could be all over again, vicariously. “You’re going to slay them all, Celestria.”
“You look lovely, too,” Celestria replied truthfully, although lovely was without doubt too soft a word for her. At forty-eight, Pamela Bancroft Montague was still strikingly beautiful. Her blond hair was pulled back into a shiny chignon, accentuating her now fuller face and cool aqua eyes, carefully framed by jet-black lashes. Diamonds swung from her earlobes and around her neck where the skin was still firm, and a large diamond brooch was pinned to her bosom. She was wise enough to know that, at her age, being thin only a made a woman appear older. Her lips were the color of blackberry juice, against which her teeth sparkled a dazzling white. Her shoulders were wrapped in the mink stole, which complemented the deep green silk of her dress; rich colors were kinder to her skin, making it seem to glow by contrast. She wore black gloves that reached her elbows and held a small black pouch with a diamanté clasp in the shape of a flower. Inside she kept her Elizabeth Arden lipstick, a gold powder compact, and a small flask of perfume. Pamela knew how to make the best of herself, a talent she had passed on to her daughter. Taking Celestria’s hand, her smile was full of pride. After all, her daughter was an extension of herself, a living reminder to everyone of the magnificence of her youth.
They entered the drawing room at the same time. Their presence, resplendent in diamonds and silk, caused a sudden hush to come over the room. The family all turned at once, their conversations trailing off as their lips parted in silent admiration. Only Bouncy continued to chatter as he tried to persuade Purdy to play with him by pulling his tail. Finally, Monty strode over. “What glamorous girls!” he exclaimed jovially. “Do they really belong to me?” He took Celestria’s hands and kissed them with a bow before slipping his arm around his wife’s waist and planting a kiss on her cheek. He looked handsome in white tie, his sandy hair brushed back off his forehead, his skin brown from being at sea all afternoon. His face glowed with pride as he led them into the room. The two women floated into the crowd like a pair of swans.
Julia wore a gown of pale turquoise. She looked poised and graceful, her bubbling laughter rising above the chatter of her excited family. Had it not been for the frenetic dragging on her cigarette, Celestria would not have known how nervous she was. She recalled the conversation she had overheard in the library and wondered whether Archie wasn’t perhaps a little uneasy at the extravagance of his party. There he stood with Harry and his two elder sons, laughing about their recent rat-catching expeditions, stroking his mustache. He clearly adored his boys. He took time to listen to them, prompting them patiently with questions and chuckling in amusement at their stories. He patted Wilfrid’s head and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the boys gazed up at him admiringly. Celestria wondered whether he knew about her father’s gift, or whether Julia had kept it to herself, as she’d said she would. She turned her attention to her smallest cousin. Little Bouncy was sitting on Monty’s knee, pretending to ride a horse as his uncle bounced him up and down over imaginary fences. “Again!” the child demanded after each “race,” and Monty obliged without the slightest indication that he might be tired or bored.
Celestria assumed she was the last member of the family to arrive until the room fell silent once again. Put out, she craned her neck to see who stood in the doorway. There, sucking the air out of the room with inflated nostrils, stood Elizabeth Montague. “It’s the bad fairy,” Celestria hissed to her mother when she saw the solid black figure of her grandmother planted firmly between the double doors.
Pamela whispered back, “On the food chain, I’d say your grandmother is a hyena, wouldn’t you?”
“But she produced a lion?” Celestria retorted.
“Only one lion, and that was on account of your grandfather, who was a lion, too,” Pamela replied with emphasis. “Now there is only one lion in this family, and I married him. Archie’s a badger, and, as for Penelope, she’s a wild boar.”
“Mama, you’re so cruel!”
“The animal kingdom is a cruel world, darling. Dog eat dog, but the hyena eats the remains of everyone else’s meal.”
Elizabeth Montague was escorted into the room by her first cousin, Humphrey Hornby-Hume, a large barrel of a man with ruddy cheeks and bulbous eyes that glistened like undercooked eggs. Elizabeth’s face was set in its usual scowl. Years of indignation had corroded any memory of joy. Her face had simply forgotten how to smile, and she was now too old to be reeducated. She always wore black in the evening, claiming that it was the most flattering color for a woman with one foot in the grave, and she walked with a stick, one hip stiff and painful due to arthritis. She smoked incessantly, reminding everyone that cigarettes and food were her only remaining pleasures—except for Monty, whom she worshipped with a fierce and possessive love, and her grandson Bouncy, who she claimed to be the image of her dear brother who was killed in the Great War. Elizabeth adored men, perhaps because the envy she felt for women younger and prettier than herself was too much to withstand. It was impossible to imagine that this full-figured woman with wide, lopsided hips and stout legs had once been handsome, and a terrible flirt.
As they entered the room, Monty, the dutiful son, strode up and kissed her gnarled hands, followed hastily by Archie, the birthday boy. The old woman’s face thawed at the sight of her favorite son, and her mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. Archie backed away, used to being eclipsed by his more charismatic brother. Julia noticed, as she always did, and her heart buckled with compassion.
Nevertheless, she greeted her mother-in-law with the same warmth with which she greeted everyone. There seemed to be no side to Julia; she was a ray of sunshine beaming down on everyone indiscriminately. If she disliked her mother-in-law, she certainly never let it show. Instead, she flattered her, echoed boisterously by Humphrey, who seemed never to notice his cousin’s sour humor.
“Now the most important member of the family is here, I think we should proceed into the tent. The guests will be arriving shortly,” Julia suggested.
“Ah, you are too generous! I don’t deserve such praise!” Humphrey quipped in his thin, reedy voice.
“Your jokes have never been funny, Humphrey,” Elizabeth replied with a dismissive snort. “I’m certainly the oldest person here. I only come to Archie’s party to remind the world that I am still alive.”
“Well, let’s go and show them,” Julia persisted, trying to usher them through the room.
“I don’t want them all celebrating when there’s nothing to rejoice about,” the old woman continued.
“My dear cousin, if ever there was a woman so full of life…” Humphrey began.
“And laughter,” Elizabeth cut in sourly. “I know, Humphrey, I’m the life and soul of the party. Get me a drink and a chair, or I shall quite literally be the soul of the party, and we don’t want that, do we?”
“Archie, darling, perhaps you could make an announcement,” Julia proposed, suddenly looking rather weary.
Archie cleared his throat. “Attention everyone!” he exclaimed, puffing out his chest importantly. No one seemed to notice.
“Speak up, boy, we can’t hear you!” shouted Elizabeth, bashing her stick repeatedly on the wooden floor until the china began to wobble in the glass cabinet against the wall. At once everyone stopped talking and turned to Archie.
“Julia would like everyone to proceed to the tent now.” He sounded rather sheepish. By contrast, Monty’s voice was firm and commanding.
“Before we all disperse into the tent, I’d like to wish my brother most happy returns of the day. This is, after all, a very special birthday. It gives me great pleasure to be among my family, and I know it gives Archie a great deal of pleasure, too. Blood is thicker than water, and there is nothing like the sharing of blood to unite us all in an unbreakable bond. Archie, my dear brother and friend, father, husband, and son, we wish you a very happy birthday and many more in the years to come, and whatever the future brings, know that I, your brother, have always admired you.” Julia’s face softened at Monty’s kind words, and Archie lowered his eyes with embarrassment. He didn’t feel at all worthy of Monty’s admiration.
While everyone clapped Elizabeth managed to bring the conversation once more around to her. “I think this will be my last, Humphrey. Next year, they’ll have double the reason to celebrate.”
“Hello, Grandma,” Celestria exclaimed, taking her elbow so that she walked into the tent between her granddaughter and Humphrey. Before she could reply, her cousin, whose rheumy eyes had lit up at the sight of young flesh, broke in, his reedy voice a few notes higher with excitement.
“Ah, the most charming and radiant Celestria. I thought I sensed the room exude a light more heavenly than earthly. You look more glorious than ever.” He dropped his eyes to her chest, where they delved a moment into her cleavage.
“Are you admiring my diamonds, Humphrey?” Celestria teased. He withdrew his gaze with difficulty.
“They are exquisite, but you shine far brighter than they do.”
“Don’t listen to the old bore!” Elizabeth interrupted. “If he was fifty years younger, I’d be concerned.”
“I’m struck in the heart, Cousin. How cruel you are!”
“Celestria, that dress is almost indecent!” she stated. “In my day only tarts wore dresses that revealed so much. A dress like that will only get you into trouble.”
“But I love trouble, Grandma!”
“With a man of experience, my dear, trouble can be a great deal of fun.” Humphrey had begun to perspire.
“A dress like that sends out the wrong messages,” her grandmother continued. “You’re a Montague, and you should behave with more discretion. Look at your cousins. Now, those dresses are most suitable. I brought Penelope up with a strong sense of morality, which I am glad to see she has passed on to her daughters. I brought your father up in the same way. The only trouble with your father is your mother. Americans have no sense of decorum.”
Celestria laughed as Humphrey winked at her over Elizabeth’s heavily coiffed gray head. “I love Americans,” he said. “And your mother is splendid. In fact, I’m going to reserve a dance with her right away before she gets booked up. I’d like one with you, too, Celestria. Will you promise to make an ugly old man happy?”
“Of course,” she lied with an easy smile. The thought of being pressed up against that swollen belly, already steaming with sweat, made her blood curdle.
Humphrey disappeared into the tent to find Pamela, a futile expedition, for Celestria knew her mother would decline his offer before he had even finished his sentence. Pamela hadn’t the patience for men like Humphrey; after all, she was a white tiger, and white tigers were very disparaging of warthogs.
“Let’s get you to a chair, Grandma,” Celestria said, eager to deposit her charge quickly so that she could mingle among the guests, who were now arriving in droves.
“Get me an ashtray. I’d like a cigarette.” She sat down stiffly, leaning her stick against the table, and scratched about in her bag for a cigarette. Elizabeth always smoked through an ivory cigarette holder her father had brought her from India for her twenty-first birthday. While Celestria went to find an ashtray, a waiter struck a match and lit it for her, placing a bubbling champagne flute on the table in front of her.
As Celestria made to return to the table her eyes caught sight of a most attractive man. She remained frozen to the carpet for a moment, careful not to let her jaw drop like Melissa’s had a tendency to do. He didn’t see her. He was too busy talking to Dan Wilmotte, whose debonair looks now faded by comparison. They were both laughing, throwing their heads back in the insouciant manner of men who have no cares. There was something about the squareness of his jawline that she found very attractive. His lips were twisted into a lopsided grin, his nose was irregular, and his dark brown hair, rather long and flopping over his forehead, suggested a delicious arrogance. His charisma reached her from the other end of the room like a lighthouse signal to a ship, indicating land yet warning of danger. She was immediately transfixed by it, promising as it did a whole heap of trouble. A warm feeling of excitement curled up her spine like a hot snake.
“Celestria!” She turned to see her furious grandmother, now accompanied by a couple of elderly men, holding out her dropping cigarette with indignation. “My granddaughter is unbearably dizzy,” she said, her lips pursed. Celestria held the glass dish beneath the older woman’s cigarette so she could flick ash into it, then placed it on the table. By the slack-jawed appreciation of the two elderly men, she could tell they weren’t at all bothered by a little dizziness. Much to their disappointment, she didn’t wait to be introduced, but turned on her heel in search of the handsome stranger.
She might have guessed that he would find her. They all did, one way or another.
“Celestria!” Dan exclaimed, embracing her like an old friend. Had Celestria not set eyes on his handsome companion, she would have welcomed his eagerness. However, she patted his shoulder as he kissed her cheek, not wanting to humiliate him. “Let me introduce you to Rafferty,” he said. Rafferty took her hand and raised it to his lips, not withdrawing his eyes even for a moment. Celestria was enchanted.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rafferty,” she replied, looking up at him from under her lashes in a manner that was most certain to ensnare him and exaggerating the slight twang in her accent.
“You’re American,” he said in surprise, releasing her hand.
“Mama’s American; I’m English.” She relished the exoticism of her two cultures.
“I’m Irish, from Cork. It’s my first visit to Cornwall.”
“He’s staying with us,” said Dan, beaming with pleasure.
“Dan, darling, will you get me a glass of champagne?” Celestria suggested, touching his arm with a gloved hand. Dan responded with zeal, turning on his polished black shoes and weaving his way through the crowd to the table Julia had set up as a bar.
Rafferty grinned at the transparency of her ploy. Celestria was too shameless to blush. “Do you live here?” he asked. “Stunning place.”
“It’s the family home. We all descend on Uncle Archie for most of August. The rest of the year I live in London, in Belgravia. I imagine you’ve been to London?”
He laughed incredulously. “You must think me very parochial!”
“Are you? One can’t always tell.”
“I’m at Oxford studying law. I spend a great deal of time in London.”
“Staying with the Wilmottes?”
“They’re old family friends.”
His eyes strayed a moment and lingered lazily on her breasts. “You’re very beautiful,” he murmured, suddenly serious. She noticed his eyes were an unusual shade of green, like lichen.
“Thank you, Rafferty.”
“I suppose you get told that all the time.”
“A girl never tires of compliments.”
“You don’t blush, which suggests you’ve received far too many.”
“Would you like me to blush?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because then I’d feel in with a chance.”
She laughed, uncertain whether or not he was teasing. He gazed at her steadily. She held her ground and gazed right back, trying to ascertain what lurked behind the lichen while that hot snake curled up her spine again. Then Dan returned with a glass of champagne and the moment was lost.
She hoped she’d be placed next to Rafferty at dinner. They continued to talk, the three of them, light and frivolous chat on top of a hidden undercurrent of desire that ran between Rafferty and Celestria. His eyes lingered on hers longer than was normal, and once or twice his fingers touched the skin on her forearm, causing her belly to turn over with excitement. She remembered the delicious sensation of Aidan Cooney’s fingers, and her belly tumbled again, all on its own.
Father Dalgliesh watched her from the other side of the tent. Surrounded by elderly ladies who were delighted to have the opportunity to talk to the handsome new priest, he was unable to restrain his eyes from drifting over the heads of the guests to where Celestria was speaking to two young men. Her beauty was breathtaking. The voices around him blended into a distant buzz, like a swarm of mosquitoes, as he reassured himself that his attraction to her was only human, a temptation sent by God to test him, thus rendering his resistance all the more commendable. I am a priest, he told himself. But I am also a man. The devil may tempt me, but I will not yield. “I told my grandson that it was no good going to Mass once in a while, one has to fulfill one’s Sunday obligation. It cleanses the soul. I just don’t understand the young of today.”
“Indeed,” Father Dalgliesh replied vaguely. The others were quick to agree, competing with one another to add their own stories. But Father Dalgliesh did nothing to untangle them. His mind was elsewhere, and the seed in his heart had begun to grow.
Suddenly the tent was struck by a violent gust of wind. The sides flapped, straining the cords that tied them down, and a sound like falling pebbles rattled on the roof. All eyes turned upward as the downpour threatened to break through the canvas and drench them all. Julia dragged furiously on her cigarette, masking her nervousness behind a wide and carefree smile. Pamela was clearly relishing the drama, holding forth in the center of a group of admirers, pulling her mink stole tighter around her shoulders to keep warm. “I hope the tent doesn’t slip down the garden into the sea,” Celestria said.
“If it continues, we shan’t be able to drive home,” said Dan happily. “We’ll all have to stay the night.”
“Oh, what fun!” Celestria exclaimed, longing for the party to continue into the following morning.
“Let’s drink to the storm, then,” Rafferty suggested. “That it continues all night with thunder and lightning, too. It’ll be like the Blitz all over again.” Not that any of them had much memory of the war. He fixed her with those moss-green eyes, and the corners of his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. She raised her glass.
“To the storm,” she replied, smiling flirtatiously. “And to new friends. It’s always nice to meet new people.”
Her eyes lifted and caught those of Father Dalgliesh, staring at her intently from behind his spectacles. She raised her glass at him and smiled. He flushed with embarrassment at having been caught watching her and raised his glass of lime cordial with an awkward nod. Quickly he turned back to his ladies, endeavoring to join together the fragmented pieces of conversation in order to respond convincingly.
To Celestria’s irritation, Julia had seated her next to Dan, not Rafferty, but she forgave her because Dan had introduced her to the mysterious Irishman. On her other side sat Humphrey, now puce in the face with alcohol and excitement. Her heart sank. Judging by the breadth of his smile he was clearly triumphant with his placement.
“Ah, Celestria,” he gushed, planting his hand on her bottom. “The lovely Celestria!” He wriggled his hand and let out a theatrical groan. “What do you do to me, you naughty girl.”
She placed the object of his desire on the chair and covered her knees with a napkin. She was about to respond with rudeness when her attention was drawn to the next-door table, where Rafferty was sitting next to Melissa, trying to catch her eye. While Melissa radiated joy, Rafferty gave Celestria a look of desperation, to which she responded by raising her eyes to heaven. There was no doubt about it, Rafferty and she had an understanding and were united already by their unfortunate placements. It is clear that he would have preferred to sit next to me, she thought happily and threw him a coy smile. He grinned back, using only one side of his mouth. Her stomach flipped again. Oh, how delicious it was to be in love.