‘You’re worried I’ll be cold?’

‘I’m worried you’ll look like a whore.’

A whore with bruises, she thought, watching him panic as he imagined the other guests looking across the dinner table at his wife’s arms, already thinking up another careless accident that she might have met with. She twisted away from him and found some nail scissors in her bag to cut the label off the dress, waiting a moment before she put him out of his misery. ‘Oh, don’t be so pathetic, Gerry. Do you really think I want the shame of that any more than you do? I’ve been humiliated enough already today.’ The elbow-length black gloves that came with the dress were still wrapped in tissue; she tore the paper off and threw it on the fire. ‘I’ll wear these. Is that modest enough for you?’

‘You’ll wear what I told you to wear.’ He snatched one of the gloves from her and ran the soft black silk through his fingers, then wound one end of it round the palm of his hand. ‘Come here.’

She stood her ground, but there was no defying his temper now. He threw her back on the bed and pressed his knee hard into her stomach. ‘Not my face, Gerry – please. Think of what people will say.’

There was a knock at the door, and Rachel held her breath, 115waiting to see what he would do. Eventually, when the knock was repeated, he released her and threw the glove onto the floor. Rachel straightened her clothes and composed herself, then let the housemaid into the room.

116

7

Josephine was more than used to theatre and the world of make-believe, but she had never felt as much like an extra on a film set as she did when she, Marta and Archie walked into the library for drinks at six o’clock. The room was intimate and welcoming, far more typical of a traditional country house setting than a castle, and considerably less austere than most of the grander libraries that she had visited: the books set into the cushioned alcoves looked as if they had actually been read, and the pale walls, simple panelling and subtle watercolours gave a soft, understated feel to the space which instinctively married comfort and elegance. If the fireplace was modest by comparison with those in the bedrooms, the size of the low-ceilinged room rewarded its efforts more generously, and the atmosphere was warm and convivial.

But the focal point, for tonight at least, was the baby grand piano in the corner. Josephine had heard the music outside in the corridor, a beautifully played version of ‘It Came Upon the Midnight Clear’ which she had assumed to be coming from a gramophone record, but as soon as the vocalist joined in, she realised her mistake. Marlene sat on the arm of a chair by the piano, her face veiled in cigarette smoke, and the image was in perfect harmony with the sultry, mysterious quality of her voice – a scene so framed and cinematic that it felt wrong to be viewing it in colour. The actress was wearing 117a figure-hugging black evening dress which could only have come from a Hollywood wardrobe, and no one in the room seemed able to take their eyes off her. Apart from the footman passing round champagne, the only person to acknowledge their appearance in the doorway was Marlene herself, who singled Archie out with a smile. ‘You lucky devil,’ Marta whispered in his ear. ‘I hope you don’t expect us to take the train back.’