"Analyze all you want, Phillip. Have fun, twist some words about.
You have no trouble speaking in sentences, but you're a liar, a deceiver."
"I might have tried to show you discipline, but I don't think I've deceived you."
"Why did you bring me to this fucking country club? So I could learn to be as convincing a phony as you?"
"Okay, Harry, I lose. I didn't call this one right. I thought — I actually thought you might have changed."
"You're really sentimental, aren't you Phillip? Just know one thing.
You haven't come home to retire, my perfect gentleman. You've come here to die."
Harry walked out of the study leaving the door open behind him.
Phillip didn't look after him. He just listened to Harry's heels echoing in the marble hall.
CHAPTER XIII
Carol and Phillip did not speak much to one another that evening.
They had a brief cocktail together in the study before they left for the Llewellyns' farewell party. They weren't too interested in going.
Particularly Carol, who had been unusually withdrawn all day.
Phillip knew where her thoughts were, living or dying. Perhaps that was why he insisted so much that she go with him tonight. Yes, Phillip could come through wonderfully sometimes and he did pretty much always. It was a warm night, with a warm breeze, a delightful summer evening, ideal for a wonderful party. And Mrs. Llewellyn was as famous for her parties as she was for her diamonds.
They pulled up in front of the huge Llewellyn mansion. Masked guests were arriving, as was commanded in the invitations. As the gatekeeper took the car from Phillip, he reached into the glove compartment for his small black mask.
The ballroom blazed. The many-tiered chandeliers and ornate sconces were ablaze with soft pink lights. The white-covered buffet tables were sumptuously filled, eager to oblige the slightest appetite.
French provincial divans were scattered about the ballroom, but the luxurious scarlet carpet was piled so thick it was not necessary to sit or lie on anything else. A Spanish orchestra played softly at one end of the room behind an ornate screen. The music seemed to come from nowhere. Guests sat about in groups, talking, drinking, dancing.
Everyone was dressed in evening wear and masks. The effect was truly extraordinary.
A young man meticulously dressed in tails wore the head of an old shriveled bird. A buxom, rather middle-aged woman, had a rubber mask with the face of Betty Boop. The combinations were bizarre, but the guests never forgot their manners, as though they had frequently gone to balls with grotesque heads.
Carol was drinking with a group of people. She had managed to start drinking the instant she arrived. Instead of a mask, she had made her eyes up to look Egyptian, the lids covered heavily with blue-green shadow. Thick black lines exaggerated the almond shape of her eyes, and by contrast they looked silver, violet. Directly under her eyes, she wore a black lace veil, dotted with tiny sapphire sequins. Her hair was combed straight back from her forehead and fell down her shoulders.
She wore metallic dust in it, so that it shone silver and gold. Carol knew she looked good tonight.
Not far from her group was the diamond-loaded Mrs. Llewellyn and Phillip, standing together, engaged in an exchange of banalities, which Phillip charmingly tolerated. Mrs. Llewellyn wore a black half-mask, studded with diamonds.
"And so we're off for the tropical south, Phillip darling. I'm so glad we have this chance to be together after all." She pursed her lips and giggled.
Phillip looked across at Carol's exotic and remote eyes. Beneath the make-up, he sensed detachment. He beckoned her frivolously, like an indulgent father fighting his daughter's shyness, toward them.
"And here's the career girl! Carol, you look marvelous; how exotic tonight!" extolled Lady Llewellyn.
"Tell Carol what you've been saying about me, Margaret dear."
Phillip excused himself with a slight bow, winked at Carol with an expression in his eye that said, "She's all yours now, baby." Carol's eyes appeared even more mysterious as they accused Phillip of his betrayal.
"Carol darling, I was telling your wonderful father what a dreadful snob he is." She started to giggle again fitfully, when her eyes were diverted by the pendant Carol wore.
"Carol, I thought you never wore more than a pair of little pearl earring! How lovely!"
"Thank you, it's very old. I wear it sometimes."
"It's just right for you, darling."
Margaret Llewellyn touched her own heavy necklace tenderly, in a reflex movement. "It's an actual feat to keep one's objects close to one these days. You have to be smarter than the crook! Helen Braithwaite lost her every stone, my dear."
Carol was already slightly drunk and a bit bored. She looked distractedly past the babbling mouth. She watched Phillip manipulate his virulent charm. He knew she was watching him. Yes, Phillip
always amused her. His imagination was so ingenious. She was curious to see how he would be now that he was going to retire.
The one person she knew would not come out of the shadows, because he wasn't there to emerge, was Harry. No matter how diverted she became by Phillip's frolicking, by her own appearance, which everyone marveled at, by the splendor of the ball and the potential surprises it would offer, behind it all was her nagging preoccupation with Harry. If he came, it would show he cared for her. How could she even think in those terms? She was not even sure he was still at the house.
Yes, everyone was decidedly enjoying the party. Mrs. Llewellyn's voice floated back to her. It was like coming up from under water.
"And it's exactly what I said to her at the time: 'You have to be smarter than the crooks.'" The relentless babble continued, and Carol was locked in like a bubble that doesn't burst. "Now that we're on the island most of the time, I keep my precious possessions there. I wouldn't have them here for the world. Thank goodness we've been spared the island!" She paused and put her little pig paw to her mouth and giggled for the hundredth time. "You'd never guess where!"
At her last remark, Carol looked at her with mild curiosity. Mrs.
Llewellyn leaned forward and whispered with a bobbing of her head.
The bubble burst. Carol gave Mrs. Llewellyn an odd smile. "That is unique," she said.
"Smarter than the crook," Mrs. Llewellyn gaily bragged.
As the ball went on, the atmosphere became more frenetic and drunken. The frolicking was rampant, and in a sense it was a part reminiscent of the old days. Mrs. Llewellyn went behind the exotic screen where the orchestra played, took the microphone and announced that the servants were to be dismissed, and for everyone to gather in the main room as there was to be a choosing of the best masks, and of course, the surprise, the highlight of the evening.
Mrs. Llewellyn was famous for her surprises. This is what usually made her one of the strongest figures socially. Hubert, her husband, was an incurable alcoholic with a lovable disposition. He usually had to be carried away long before the party ended. While his wife was setting up the surprise, he was busy forcing one of their tiny toy Pomeranians to drink a glass of champagne. Hubert had lasted long this evening. Even he was affected by the element of anticipation in the air.
The lights went out, except for the candles in the sconces and the one elaborately tiered crystal chandelier that threatened everyone. Hanging tenuously from the middle of the high ceiling, it burned sensuously.
The orchestra played very softly, but loud enough to be noticed, going from tangos to slow rumbas. Margaret Llewellyn was holding her black half-mask as a pince nez, to facilitate her organizing the surprise. After she had collected a goodly amount of people, things started to break out like fireworks.