The Merciless Ladies (19 page)

‘Supreme faith in one's legal advisers', I said. ‘Incidentally, do we know where Brian Marnsett is?'

Kidstone said: ‘He's believed to be at their place in the country. Hart did well with that. There are various rumours and I don't think Bagshawe will risk calling him.'

‘Diana's righteousness made me pretty sick', I said.

‘I'm afraid one gets used to the hypocrisies of the witness box.'

Paul said: ‘I should like to know what his Lordship privately thinks of it all.'

‘We shall hear in due course', said Kidstone grimly. ‘And juries on the whole are more ready to take judicial direction in a civil suit than in a criminal trial.'

As we walked back to the Courts and reporters began to converge, Paul said: ‘Are you free for Sunday?'

‘I doubt it', I said. ‘ Why?'

‘Because I've accepted an invitation for you.'

‘Well, there'll be a lot of work accumulated! Where do you want me to go?'

‘Down to the Lynns.'

‘Are you going?'

‘Yes. Holly will be there. I promised to bring you the first Sunday you were back.'

‘Oh', I said. ‘Well, I suppose I can manage it by working all Saturday. Do you still find them interesting?'

‘I still find them interesting', said Paul.

II

We were back in our seats in time to hear Mr Raymond Hart open for the defence. He wished to make it quite clear at the outset, he said, that, since the plaintiff's counsel had seen fit to introduce the issue of malice, it would be his first concern to produce witnesses to refute this. He would, he said, call witnesses to counter the suggestion of malice in the painting itself – then he would call witnesses to dispute malice in the hanging; and finally he would bring witnesses to refute the suggestion that its hanging had in fact the effect the plaintiff claimed, which was, he would remind the jury, the real question at issue.

He seemed to be going over much the same ground covered in his cross-examination of Mrs Marnsett, and several of the jury looked as if they were feeling the effects of a not-yet-fy-digested meal. But at length the speech was done and the first witness called.

Mr Vincent de Lisle, RBA, was himself a portrait painter of some eminence. In his opinion, the painting ‘ Diana Marnsett' conformed with the best canons of the art, and the suggestion that its peculiar technique should have been used out of spite or ill-will for the sitter would be a ridiculous suggestion to anyone who understood portraiture.

Cross fire developed between him and Bagshawe. Sir Philip established that the witness and Paul were well acquainted, ‘ were in fact friends', and then, finding himself worsted on the technical front, asked de Lisle did he not agree that ill-will must have been shown when the portrait was deliberately hung in a gallery of notorious women.

Mr de Lisle said sharply: ‘It's surely a question of
honi soit qui mal y pense
. People who go to a gallery do so to view the pictures from an artistic standpoint, not to gossip about some fancied insult in the hanging, like salacious scullery maids.

‘I wish you would not obscure the issue', said Sir Philip.

‘I'm not obscuring it. Because in my view there is none.'

‘Perhaps you would explain to the court what you mean.'

‘Certainly.' De Lisle screwed in his eyeglass. ‘I don't consider that Mrs Marnsett was seriously maligned by the company she was placed in.'

Sir Philip glanced at the jury. ‘Go on, Mr de Lisle.'

‘Well, these women, these courtesans, were generally speaking women of refinement and taste. The fact that they were mistresses of a ruling king doesn't stamp them as common whores: it only marks them as the ancestors of a large proportion of our present aristocracy.'

There was a gust of laughter through the court.

‘If I may cap your quotation with another', said Sir Philip, acidly aware that he had not got the answer he hoped for, ‘I think the court will agree that it is a question of
autres temps, autres moeurs
. It might in the old days have been considered a mark of distinction to be pointed out as a king's mistress: it is not so today. Therefore with your permission the issue remains.'

But he didn't detain the artist much longer.

J.J.
Paynard, another artist, was next in the box, and then Henry Ludwig of the Ludwig Galleries. He was there a long time under cross-examination but did not give away that he had phoned Paul asking him to move the picture. As the afternoon went on it became clear that Paul wouldn't be called that day, so I eventually muttered an excuse to him and slipped out of the court. I had a moral obligation to report to my paper
sometime
within twelve hours of my return; and if I got in now and picked up some of the loose odds and ends I should have a better conscience about spending another day in the Courts tomorrow.

I paused at the entrance to the central hall, carefully avoiding the eye of a reporter who was looking at me hopefully. Late October sunshine lit the Strand with a hazy light. The sky was colourless, the street fume-filled and noisy. This time yesterday we had been coming into the Sound. So little time ago, and already the city and its concerns had closed in.

A voice said: ‘Can I give you a lift, Bill?'

Little Olive. I had not met her since the evening before all the trouble with Diana started. And then we had separated in that peculiar way.

She was as usual well dressed. I don't think she ever spent a fortune on clothes, but she knew exactly what to buy and what suited her and what would look just as smart in two years' time. Paul said she was a terror in the dress shops.

‘Olive', I said. ‘How nice. But I'm only walking to my office down the street.'

‘Oh.' She looked disappointed. ‘I'm just back from Rome. I met friends of yours there. The Paladinis. And the Bellegardes.'

We fell into step. She had heard about the trip to Madeira. At the entrance to Essex Court she said: ‘ My car's just down here. Isn't it time you gave up your old work for a bit?'

‘Gave it
up
!' I said. ‘I haven't begun yet! I only arrived in Plymouth this time yesterday!'

‘Do they know you're home?'

‘They soon will. Were you in court today?'

‘Of course. I wouldn't have missed it for worlds.'

‘You came out early.'

‘I saw you leave and thought we might have a chat.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, and don't sound so disbelieving! It's the truth. The Bellegardes have sent various messages. Also I wanted – to talk about Paul.'

I foolishly hesitated. Did I really want this meeting? Surely not. I glanced at her, hesitated again, and was lost.

‘All right.'

She made a little
moué
at my lack of enthusiasm, and we walked to her car.

She said: ‘Where are you living now?'

‘The same old address. Afraid it's not looking its best because it's been empty since August. I stopped in this morning just to dump my things and get a change of clothes.'

‘Let's go to my place. Maud's out, but I mix a good Scotch. Can even if pressed produce an
omelette al prosciutto
that wouldn't disgrace a
taverna
.'

‘What took you to Italy?'

‘What takes everyone there: the light, the sun, the sea, the architecture. Even, believe it or not, a few tawdry paintings they have on the walls of their palaces.'

‘And Signor Mussolini?'

‘Oh, him. I'm sorry for people like the Paladinis who are very political and very anti. But for the rest, nothing much has changed except that everything is slightly better run. Are you very intense, Bill?'

‘About what?'

‘About politics. I find them a bore. The glory of Rome won't change because one man is in power and another out.'

‘I'm not all that interested in politics. But I'm interested in the dreary old word democracy – which somebody said the world was being made safe for. Russia never had any, so that isn't much loss. But Italy has had for the last fifty-odd years – since Garibaldi, I mean – and it's sad for many reasons if it fails there. Because one strong man who's successful can lead to other strong men trying it on: in Germany, in France, in Spain.'

We drove off and, presently, for the second time that year, I found myself in her white rectilinear flat.

‘Tell me', she said, as she poured the drinks,' I must say I find this action diverting. Diana suing Paul for telling the truth about her! It's –
incredible
! Why is it being fought on such pure lines? Since when has Paul decided to behave like a gentleman?'

‘Since he became one.'

‘Perhaps Paul's afraid to prove his case because of all the things Diana could tell about him in return!' Laughter bubbled in her throat. ‘Everyone I speak to who knows them is dying with amusement!'

She took off her coat and hat and threw them on a chair. She was wearing a brown silk frock with transparent sleeves and short pleated skirt. She sat on the settee and curled her legs under her.

‘Tell me about your adventures in the Atlantic.'

‘It was really all quite dull. Just bobbing about for hours and making practically no progress.'

‘Is it true that Paul couldn't stay the course and had to be taken off by a luxury liner, leaving you to struggle home more or less alone?'

‘Paul had to be home for the libel suit, otherwise he wouldn't have left.'

‘Didn't you have some professor and his daughter with you?'

‘Yes. Friends of mine. We met them by chance in Madeira.'

‘Pretty girl?'

‘Not particularly.'

‘They also left you, didn't they?'

‘The weather wasn't suitable for them to stay.'

‘You're very brown', she said.

‘It'll soon be gone.'

‘Yes. Pity.'

We sipped our drinks. It was still rather early for drinks. The light was only just fading.

I thought of the similarities and the differences between the two principal women in Paul's life. They were both beautiful, intelligent and spoiled. But Diana, fundamentally, was ruled by her emotions, whether they happened to be amorous or the contrary. When she erred she did so from an excess of human nature not from a lack of it. Olive seemed always to be ruled by her head. She would take all and not, like Diana, give in return.

‘Does Maud live with you now?' I asked.

‘Oh, yes. Devoted. Not that that's unwelcome in an unfriendly world. But there's times when it cloys.'

‘How did you first employ her?'

‘Oh, she was my brothers' nanny. When they died she became a sort of general factotum for the family. After Daddy retired last year they cut down on help, so I came in for her.'

‘Do your parents give you an allowance?'

She looked at me. ‘Since you ask, no. Why should they?'

‘… I just wondered.'

‘They're
comfortable.
But there's no real
money
in our family – not lying about, not available to bailout a daughter who has made a botch of her marriage, if that's what you're thinking. Anyway, Paul can continue to do that.'

‘Have you ever thought of marrying again?'

‘Supposing I were free, who?'

‘Ah, that I don't know.'

‘You?'

I finished my drink.

‘I couldn't support your life style. Besides …'

‘Besides, we're not really meant for each other, are we? Perhaps a little affair in bed, but …'

Her eyes were cat-like in the fading light.

I said: ‘Do you go in for that sort of thing?'

‘Frequently.'

After a moment I said: ‘I don't believe you.'

She laughed. ‘Do we know each other so well?'

‘Well … we've known each other a fair time. I took you out before Paul ever did.'

‘And you think I'm a moral woman?'

‘By present-day standards, yes.'

‘By Diana's standards. By Paul's, certainly.'

‘Paul isn't
that
dissolute. Was he ever unfaithful to you while you were living together?'

‘How should I know?'

‘That's precisely what you
would
know – would have known.'

She laughed again. ‘It's beside the point. Anyway, I've told you – I do have affairs.'

I smiled back at her.

The smile faded. ‘Is this a ploy, Bill?'

‘A ploy?'

‘A sort of challenge. You tell me I don't and dare me to prove the opposite.'

‘No. That wasn't the idea.'

‘I suppose being at sea for a month might give a man thoughts.'

‘Oh, it doesn't need a voyage at sea for that.'

There was a long silence, and she began to speak of her visit to Rome. She'd been there with Peter Sharble, the MP, and a couple I knew vaguely, called Alexander. She gave me the messages from my friends, but they were little more than affectionate greetings and told me nothing of how these distinguished members of the old ruling classes were faring under the new regime. One day soon, if I could get a
laissez passer
, I must go again and see.

She stopped. ‘What are you thinking of?'

‘What you've been saying, of course.'

‘Well, I
asked
you here to talk about Rome.'

‘And Paul, you said.'

‘To hell with Paul.'

I rose and refilled her glass. Then I took some myself. But I didn't immediately sit down again.

She said: ‘And what about your life? You never tell me about your life.'

I knew what she meant. ‘There's not much to say.'

‘You tell me
I'm
moral, by today's standards. What are you?'

‘The same … Oh, there was a girl in Italy.
Ravishing
to look at – like some artist's dream of perfection.
Not
very bright, in fact. But very sweet. The family, of course,
watched
her – the mother and the two brothers. There was nothing I could do … Perhaps there was nothing I was absolutely certain I
wanted
to do. Why bring her down to earth, make a woman of a saint? Someday soon somebody will, some dark-eyed, egocentric Italian lad. But not me. Not me.'