WHEN she played back the tape of telephone messages next morning after a lonely breakfast, she discovered that Darius had, indeed, gone to Wales. Miss Porter smoothly conveyed his apologies again and said he would be in touch himself as soon as he could find the time to ring! Not like she expected him to be soon anyway.
Samantha sat and watched autumn leaves blowing along the garden paths. Soon it would be winter. She felt cold already.
She couldn't stay here a minute longer. She had to get away and think. She picked up the phone and rang the London office. Miss Porter could give Darius a message from her, for a change. Miss Porter wasn't there. She was in Wales with Mr Sutter, Samantha was informed.
She slowly put the phone down and stood up, shivering. It was getting colder by the minute. It was nine o'clock. At ten Anna would arrive and ask questions Samantha did not feel up to answering.
She ran upstairs and opened her wardrobe, pulled out a few things, packed a box without really thinking very much about what she was taking, put on a sheepskin-lined suede coat and went out through the kitchen to the garage where her car was parked, pausing en route long enough to write Anna a short note explaining that she was going away for a few days.
Just as she drove out of the garage she saw Anna unlocking the side door in the stone garden wall. Samantha didn't stop or even slow down. She drove on, gave Anna a wave and shot out through the gates which closed automatically behind her, aware of the confused lady staring after her, eyes wide.
No doubt news of the explosion in Wales had reached the village. The local grapevine worked efficiently. They might even know Darius hadn't come home last night.
Well, now they would have something else to talk about. When Darius finally did ring, Anna could tell him Samantha had gone away. How would he react to that? Or perhaps he wouldn't. Maybe he would just shrug and go back to the more important subject of his company.
Miss Porter would soothingly advise him not to worry, no doubt. Miss Porter certainly wouldn't be worrying. Darius had once said that he often talked over problems with his secretary; she might be stunning to look at, but she also had a mind like a man, tough and incisive, he had said in admiration.
Samantha wished she had someone to talk over problems with, someone she could trust the way Darius trusted Miss Porter. If her parents were still alive she could go to them, but her mother had died six years ago, and her father had followed within a year. Samantha missed them, especially at this moment.
She had loved her parents and often wished Paris had known them. She barely remembered her grandfather, and did not remember her grandmother at all.
Samantha had no brothers or sisters, either. Her family hadn't been a close one; she had an uncle in Scotland whom she never saw, and an aunt in New Zealand, who occasionally remembered to send a Christmas card...but apart from that her only family was Paris and Darius.
She could go to Stella, of course, but, fond though she was of her, she was Darius's sister and she couldn't talk frankly to her this time. It wouldn't be fair to Stella. She thought the sun shone out of Darius.
Where was she to go? Come to that, she thought wryly, where was she going? She had merely driven without thinking, on automatic pilot, and as she looked about she saw that she was now on the main London road and heading towards the capital.
Well, why not London? It was a big place, easy to get lost in London, and she needed to get lost for a while. She had to think, and although the country was a quiet place it was harder to be alone there. People were too friendly. If you were alone they came up and tried to get into conversation. They noticed things, asked questions, tried to find out who you were and what you were doing there, miles from anywhere.
London was very different. You could drop dead in the street in London and people would politely step over you and pretend there was nothing odd about lying there on the pavement getting colder and stiffer by the minute.
She reached the city just before noon and checked into a charming, if small hotel in a back street behind Helming Street, in the very centre of the West End. She had picked it at random while she was driving around because it had an underground garage right next door where she could park her car overnight. At tremendous cost, of course, but at least it would be safe.
Her room was furnished in Laura Ashley style and was very comfortable. She unpacked, making a face over the odd things she had packed. Well, she could always buy anything else she needed. Darius was very generous; she had an ample bank balance and several credit cards. Money wasn't one of her problems.
That afternoon she walked around London, window shopping and exploring the central area. She didn't know London well; she was a country girl who came from Romney Marsh in Kent, which was where she had met Darius, shortly after her eighteenth birthday.
She had been working in a village breakfast and bed while she waited to go to art college later that autumn. Darius had been visiting his father in Rye and had dropped in to her BNB to get breakfast. He had asked to buy her lunch and three months later, instead of going to art college, she had married him.
It had been that fast, that overwhelming, for both of them. She knew Darius hadn't intended to marry so soon he had been older than her, but he hadn't yet begun to make the sort of money his company was later to make. He had needed every penny he could scrape together; he had even persuaded his father to mortgage his house, and Williams, his father must have half expected to lose that money.
He hadn't, of course. He had long ago been repaid and now held valuable shares in the company, but twelve years ago the company had existed only in two minds, those of Darius and his partner, Jude Malone.