Legacy Of The Past
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The house, which had been built during the sixteenth century, had been renovated extensively and although from the outside it looked typically Elizabethan, inside central heating, electric lights and fitted carpets had done away with much of its atmosphere.
The hall, wide and high with a carved roof was lit by electric candelabra, set at intervals round the walls giving a restful, luminous quality to the polished panelling and oak furniture. The floor, too had been polished and was ideal for dancing. However, most of the guests seemed to have congregated in a large lounge to the right of the hall and the manservant who had admitted them and taken their coats went into the lounge to advise his employers of their arrival.
Madeline was entranced by the place and was fascinatedly studying the minstrels’ gallery when a dainty little woman in rich purple pants and blouse came out of the lounge to greet them. She introduced herself as Lucie Masterson, and said that her husband would join them later.
‘He’s closeted with Nicholas – you know, Nicholas Vitale, at the moment,’ she said, after she had discovered their identity. ‘They’re always talking business these days. I do hope you won’t think he’s being rude. But Nicholas is the boss and they do have a lot to discuss while he’s here.’
‘That’s quite all right, Mrs. Masterson,’ replied Hetherington, smiling. ‘We understand.’
‘Good,’ Lucie beamed. She could have been any age between thirty-five and forty-five, speculated Madeline, who thought she seemed a rather shallow woman at first appraisal.
Lucie drew them into the throng in the lounge. There were about thirty guests, all standing around drinking cocktails and exchanging small talk. A radiogram played soft music in a corner and there was an aroma of French perfume and Havana tobacco. A rich red carpet covered the floor, the colour of which was echoed in the heavy velvet curtains. There were couches and armchairs upholstered in soft leather while the white walls were relieved of starkness by vivid prints.
Many of the guests seemed to be married couples, Madeline discovered, as Lucie introduced them around. There was an almost equal number of Italians and Americans, and Lucie explained that Sheridans had factories in both countries as well as here. When Adrian and Mr. Hetherington got caught up in technical discussions with some of the older guests present Madeline found herself beside a young American couple called Fran and Dave Madison.
‘Do you live in Otterbury,’ asked Fran, interestedly, as Madeline accepted a cigarette from Dave.
‘Yes. I have a flat not far from here, actually,’ replied Madeline. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes. We, too, have a flat,’ confirmed Dave. ‘But we’re expecting to have a house soon in the new development near the factory later in the year.’
‘Oh, I see. You’re from America?’
‘That’s right,’ Dave grinned. ‘I guess the accent is unmistakable.’
Madeline chuckled. ‘I thought you might have been here visiting the Mastersons,’ she said. She looked at Fran. ‘Do you like England?’
‘It’s okay, I guess,’ said Fran, without enthusiasm. ‘There’s not much to do, is there? We’re hoping to go to Italy later on. Have you ever been abroad?’
‘Just to France,’ said Madeline ruefully. ‘Since my husband died, my daughter and I don’t go away a lot.’
‘You have a daughter?’ exclaimed Dave in surprise. ‘A baby daughter?’
‘No. Actually, she’s sixteen,’ replied Madeline, smiling. ‘But thank you for those few kind words.’
‘They weren’t kind,’ exclaimed Dave, grinning. ‘I wouldn’t say you looked more than twenty-five or six.’
Fran was looking a little put out now and Madeline was glad when another man came to join them. He was like Dave, tall and fair, with pleasant freckly features.
‘Hi there, you two,’ he said easily, obviously knowing the Madisons well. ‘Have we got a new member of the organization?’
‘No,’ answered Dave, turning to him. ‘Madeline, this is Harvey Cummings – he, too, is a member of the Sheridan clan.’
‘How do you do,’ said Madeline politely, nodding at the newcomer.
‘I’m fine,’ answered Harvey, grinning. ‘Especially when a lovely woman is interested. Say, do you have a husband somewhere around?’
‘I’m a widow,’ replied Madeline, her cheeks reddening. His rather direct approach was a little disconcerting, to say the last.
‘Great. I mean great for me,’ said Harvey exuberantly. ‘I thought you looked rather lonely and unattached. May I attach myself to you?’
Madeline looked rather helplessly at the Madisons. ‘Is your wife not here?’ she asked cautiously.
Dave roared with laughter. ‘Harvey married? Are you kidding? Who would take on a liability like him?’
‘Take no notice,’ said Harvey with mock disdain. ‘It’s simply that no one understands me.’
Madeline laughed. She was enjoying this good-natured bantering. It was so long since she had been in company young enough to indulge in it. Adrian, although easy-going in his own way, was definitely not the type to make fun of himself. And even Joe had had no time for facetiousness, and because of her early marriage Madeline had missed out on this kind of lighthearted interchange.
‘Oh, here’s Con,’ said Dave suddenly. ‘And our illustrious chief. They must have finished their business.’
Madeline and the others looked round. Two men were entering the room, both tall, but one was broader in the shoulders with lean good looks. They were both dressed in dark suits, but the broad-shouldered man was much darker skinned than his companion and was immediately recognizable to Madeline as the man who had driven the red car. Who was he? Conrad Masterson or Nicholas Vitale? Surely it could not be the latter!
‘Which one is Mr. Masterson?’ she asked Fran softly.
‘Why, the one on the left, honey,’ replied Fran. ‘Don’t you know him?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. So the darker man is Nicholas Vitale?’
‘Yes – handsome, isn’t he? He’s Italian, of course. That’s why he’s so dark-skinned. He’s spent a lot of time in the States. We all fell for him, naturally. But as you can see, I settled for Dave.’ She laughed at Dave’s indignant face. ‘Darling, Nicholas is the most elusive male since Adam!’