New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [270]
Now Hetty poured the tea. She waited until the maid had left the room, however, before she began.
“I asked you to come round, because I need your help,” she said calmly.
“If I can,” said Lily, a little uncertainly.
“I’m worried about Frank,” Hetty continued. She gave Lily a quick look. “Aren’t you?”
“I?”
“Yes,” Hetty said, in a businesslike fashion. “I’m worried about this girl. Have you met her?”
Lily was silent for a moment. “I think you have the advantage of me,” she said cautiously.
“Have I?” Hetty smiled. “I’ve known that you were Frank’s mistress for a long time, you know.”
“Oh,” said Lily. She paused. “How long?”
“Twenty years.”
Lily looked down at her hands. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“If it was going to be somebody,” said Hetty, “I suppose I’d just as soon it was you.”
Lily didn’t reply.
“You were quite discreet,” Hetty continued. “I was glad of that.”
Lily still didn’t reply.
“It was partly my fault, I can quite see that now. I drove him away, so he sought comfort elsewhere.” Hetty sighed. “If I had my life again, I’d act differently. It’s hard for a man if he thinks his wife doesn’t respect him.”
“You’re very philosophical.”
“One has to be at my age. Yours too, if you’ll forgive my saying so. In any case, I’d rather be the wife than the mistress.” Lily nodded. “You still have your marriage.”
“Yes. Marriage may not be a perfect state, but it is a protection, especially as we get older. And we are all getting older, my dear.” She glanced at Lily before going on. “I still have my home, my children and grandchildren. And a husband, too. Frank may have strayed, but he is still my husband.” She eyed Lily evenly. “In every way.”
Lily bowed her head. What could she say?
“I was hurt when Frank took a mistress, I won’t deny it, but I’d still rather be me than you. Especially now.”
“Now?”
“This young woman. The one who’s stolen him from you.”
“Oh.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Not a lot.”
“Well, I know a great deal.” She watched Lily for a moment. “Would you like to know?” And when Lily hesitated: “Miss Donna Clipp is a little witch. She’s digging for gold. Not only that—she was prosecuted for theft, in Philadelphia. I have proof.”
“I see.”
“I’ve had a lawyer investigate her. Frank paid for the lawyer, of course, though he doesn’t know it. He thought he was paying for curtains. She cares nothing for him. But she’s after his money.”
“I suppose you think that of me too,” said Lily sadly.
“Not at all, my dear. I’m sure he’s generous, but he can afford to be. Not that I think little Miss Clipp will succeed in getting much out of him. Frank’s not a fool when it comes to money, but she might kill him while she’s trying.” She sighed. “We both know my husband’s getting old. And he’s vain, like most men. She’s a young woman—she’s only thirty, you know—and I’m sure he wants to prove himself.”
“And you think it might be too much for his heart?”
“Don’t you?”
“Perhaps,” said Lily.
Hetty looked hard at her. “Do you love my husband?”
“I have grown very fond of him.”
“Then you’ll help me.”
“To do what?”
“Why, to get rid of this young woman, my dear. We have to get rid of Donna Clipp.”
When Mary O’Donnell had heard that Lily de Chantal was coming to tea with Mrs. Master, she had been surprised. She knew that the two women were only vaguely acquainted; she supposed Mrs. Master might be wanting the singer to perform at one of her charity events. When she was told that Mrs. Master wanted to see her as well, she couldn’t imagine why.
She found the two of them sitting quite easily together on a sofa.
“Now, Mary dear,” Mrs. Master announced with a smile, “we need your help.”
“Yes, Mrs. Master,” said Mary. Whatever could she want?
“We’ve known each other many years, Mary,” Mrs. Master continued, “and now I have to ask you to be very honest with me, and to keep a secret as well.