Part 28 (1/2)

William cut him dead with a look. ”This is a public beach. Anyone might see.”

It was a reminder, a warning: We might have been heedless enough to display our affair at Bailey's Beach, but William was civilized. He would not brawl there; he would not give us the chance to appease him, or even the satisfaction of his anger.

”I saw David outside with the landau,” he said tonelessly. He held out his hand to me. ”He's waiting to go home.”

I got to my feet, and Victor unfolded himself. I took up the blanket, bundling it, sand and all, my fingers trembling. I looked to Victor for support, but his features were etched in taut relief; his tension was unbearable. I turned back to William, who said to Victor, ”You'll come with us.”

Victor said, ”Of course.”

”I'll let no one accuse me of leaving a houseguest to walk the distance home. After all, I'm a generous man. Generous to a fault, some have said.” He laughed shortly. ”Generous enough to offer up even my wife, it seems.”

”William,” I said.

He turned, his nostrils white, his hands fisted. ”I don't want to hear a word from you.”

It was not until I'd endured the horrible, silent ride home that I realized I'd left my gown behind in the bathing pavilion, that I was still wearing my bathing costume, that my skin was dry and sticky with salt. Once we were at Seaward, William dismissed David with a curt word. Sadie was in the kitchen, in the midst of putting together tea. He told her to go home for the evening, that we had no more need of her today.

It was only when they were gone that William turned to me and Victor.

”Who else knows?” he asked me. His voice was slow and quiet and deadly.

”No one,” I rushed to tell him. ”No one. It's not what-” I stopped, unable to say the words It's not what you think. Because it was exactly what he thought, and I could not make myself lie.

He nodded shortly. ”I understand we've accepted an invitation to By-the-Bay for supper tonight.”

I could not bear his civility. I felt like crying. ”Oh, for G.o.d's sake, William. Please don't do this.”

”Have we accepted the invitation?”

”Yes. Yes. But I'll send our regrets right away.” I turned to go to my desk.

”No,” William said. He was looking at Victor, who stood expressionless. William's face was terrible in its humiliation and rage. ”We'll go tonight.”

I was stunned. ”Are you mad?”

”We'll go tonight,” he continued. ”And we will enjoy ourselves as if nothing has happened. Victor will enjoy himself. I want him to remember how much. I want him to revel in it. Because it's the last time he'll ever attend such a thing.”

I stared at him, aghast. ”What do you mean?”

William ignored me. He smiled at Victor. ”Victor, my friend, after tonight, your career as a 'brilliant' neurologist in this city will be over. You won't be welcomed in any home. If I were you, I'd return to Leipzig. When I'm finished with you, it will be the only place that will have you.”

”William,” I said. ”You can't-”

He leveled a look that both silenced and stilled me. ”You're wrong, Lucy. I can. And I will. Tomorrow. Tonight you will do what I want for once. I won't be humiliated. We will go to By-the-Bay. We will be the happy couple, and Victor will be our grateful houseguest. You will be my obedient wife. No one will know about this. I won't drag your name into the mud, darling, nor mine with it.”

For a moment I thought insanely of Robert Carr, of how he'd gone to London to bring his wife home from an affair with an English baron. Of how she'd come. Of how they played the happy couple at her blue supper.

I looked wildly at William, and then at Victor, who continued to stand silently. Why had he said nothing? ”I won't do this,” I said. ”I won't go tonight. I can't.”

Victor said, ”Lucy, do as he asks.”

William said sarcastically, ”Yes, Lucy, listen to Victor. Do as he tells you. How well he controls you. Better than your own husband. Tell me, Victor, did you summon her to your bed, or did she come of her own accord?”

Victor looked away.

”I trusted you, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” William's control looked as if it might snap. Then he struggled, his teeth clenched; he calmed himself.

I felt sick. ”William, please, don't do this. Scream at me if you must. Be angry. Just don't be this way.”

”I've had enough of pa.s.sion,” he said. His pale gaze made me s.h.i.+ver; I knew he spoke of me, of what I was, of who I was. ”Get dressed for Julia's supper, Lucy. You look a sight.”

I turned away, unable to face him or to bear Victor's stolid acceptance of his fate. I did as he asked; I went to dress for supper.

By-the-Bay was alight and glorious. The middle of the dining table had been made into a pond that held pink water lilies; everyone said the soft-sh.e.l.l crabs and roasted partridge were sublime, though it was impossible for me to try even a bite. There was plenty of champagne, and William drank more than he usually did so that his cheeks were faintly reddened, and his eyes were gla.s.sy with a good humor that held cynicism and pain beneath it.

He kept me hard by his side most of the night, forcing me to smile, to pretend that all was well, to fight the tension that made me feel ill, that made my head pound. He caught every glance I threw to Victor, who showed no ill effects of this afternoon; he was circulating, smiling, his usual charming self. Desperate for instruction, I wanted to ask him what he wanted of me, what my role should be, but William made sure that such a meeting was impossible. I had no hope of rescue. I was paralyzed by the weight of my future.

”Victor seems to have enraptured them all,” William whispered to me. He took a great swallow of wine. ”You didn't tell me he's become the darling of Newport.”

”Yes,” I said absently. ”He's quite requested.”

”Why?”

I nodded toward Victor, who was talking animatedly to Gerald Fister. ”He's worked magic among them. They adore him.” William's mouth tightened. I said to him, ”I'm asking you not to destroy him. I'm begging you.”

”I've given you everything you've ever wanted, Lucy, but I'm done with that now.” He frowned, his gaze pa.s.sing across the room. ”What's going on?”

I saw that Victor's magic was happening already, as it always did after supper, when it was quite late, and everyone was too drunk to dance and too awake to go home. Victor would be talking, and someone would find him, touch his arm, whisper into his ear. Across the room two chairs would already be facing each other, ready for the night's entertainment.

I saw the touch, the whisper. I saw the chairs set up where the orchestra was packing up their instruments and readying to leave. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. I looked back at Victor to see that he was staring at me, so intently that I looked down, trying to warn him with my inattention. I felt William put his arm around my waist. He staggered a little with the movement; he was quite drunk.

”What is it?” William asked. ”Where are they going?”

”It's Victor,” I said, wanting to leave.

”Victor?”

”You once asked how he hypnotized me. Now is your opportunity to find out.”

William frowned but went with all the others, and because he did not release his hold on me, I went too. There was muttering and the growing sound of laughter, of suspense. There were those in this crowd who had just come to Newport and not yet seen Victor's performance. And it was to be a good one. I saw Victor's charisma in full force. I wondered how he could be so calm, knowing that everything would be gone tomorrow. That I would be gone.

He began with Millie, who smiled and giggled nervously, like a girl, as he called her name. She went to the chair and sat, pulling her saffron skirts around her demurely, looking at him expectantly as Victor took the seat before her and held her thumbs in his.

”I must ask for silence,” he said. I knew these words so well, this performance so intimately. ”Complete silence.”

The crowd went dead. Beside me William went taut. His fingers stiffened against my waist.