Undine -

Chapter 11

'WHAT in God's name were you thinking, Michael?'

Sophie became aware of the voices slowly, her mind sluggish and dull. She lay immobile, swaddled in the warmth of her own bed, and fought to focus on the low key voices wrangling across the room.

'I've been teaching her to swim.

At the hoarse disbelief in Elizabeth's voice, Sophie cringed inwardly. Don't blame him, she wanted to cry. He was only trying to help. But her tongue was paralyzed, her faculties dulled and groggy.

'Can you think of anyone more suited?' Michael asked cuttingly.

'I should say you are the last person suited to take Miss Burgess out on that lake. Oh, don't look at me like that, Michael. What did you promise yourself after Catrina?'

'Sophie is safe with me.'

'No one is safe with you.' At the gall in Elizabeth's voice, Sophie tried to open her eyes. Through slitted lids she saw the two figures at the far end of the room. Elizabeth immaculate in vintage Dior and diamonds; Michael, dressed in a sea green top and black denims, his hair tousled and curling, looking younger than she'd ever seen him.

At the look of ineffable sadness on his face a single tear oozed from her left eye, obscuring her vision. She closed her eyes again, not wanting them to see her weeping.

'Michael,' Elizabeth whispered, her voice filled with dread, 'it's happening again.'

'I've taken care of it.'

'But for how long? The fact that this has happened confirms all I've ever warned you against.'

'I'll deal with it.'

'You cannot go on like this forever... denying what cannot be denied. Running from what cannot be escaped. It's not just yourself you're hurting, but those around you too.'

'You think I don't know that?' Michael grated beneath his breath. A sigh escaped him, deep and resigned. 'Will it ever end? Will I ever be free of this thing?'

Sophie closed her eyes, the truth unfurling in her mind like a dark, terrible blossom. He's sick... ill? His body, his mind? Oh, but it doesn't have to matter, does it? Nothing could be so bad, surely...

Michael spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. 'Do you ever condemn me, Elizabeth, for what I am.'

'You know I love you.'

'Why is every woman so unlike you?' Michael asked gently. The ensuing silence was more than Sophie could bear. With a gargantuan effort she opened her eyes again, saw the light of adoration shining in Michael's face as he regarded Elizabeth. 'I've told you, I'm in control.'

'There you go, stubborn as always. That's why this has happened... because you won't listen to me! I knew I shouldn't have employed her and yet...' Elizabeth gave a heartfelt sigh. 'And yet I rely on her already.'

Sleep tugged at Sophie's consciousness. She heard Elizabeth cross the floor to her bedside, felt the gentle rustle of her hands as she adjusted the quilt.

'The poor child's so pale. Dr Corless gave her something to help her sleep.'

'I wish...' Michael began, but Elizabeth cut him dead with a cynical snort.

'Wishes? I remember those. Do you recall that old story you used to delight in trying to scare me with... The Monkey's Paw?'

'I remember.'

Through a fog of lethargy, Sophie remembered too. The Monkey's Paw; a dark tale of three wishes turned bad. Elizabeth's next words sent a chill the length of her soul. 'Never wish for a thing, Michael, unless you know exactly what the implications are.'

~

THE morning after her accident in the lake, Sophie found Michael in the dining room, a cup of coffee steaming before him. At her entrance he glanced up briefly, gave a curt nod in greeting. 'How are you feeling?'

'Just fine.' Sophie glanced at Michael hesitantly. 'I won't let this put me off. In fact, I'm looking forward to our next lesson. It'll be a test of my mettle, don't you think?'

'I think it's wise for you to take tuition elsewhere.'

'Chlorine makes my eyes sting,' Sophie remarked, buttering her toast.

'Then wear goggles,' Michael countered without looking up.

'You want me scaring all the kids?'

Michael gave a reluctant smile as Sophie frowned and poured her coffee. The St Clairs were clannishly refusing to reveal their secrets. But then who was she?   A stranger, an outsider, just someone who worked here.

Wincing as she sipped the scalding coffee, Sophie glanced up to find Michael staring at her.

'Yes?' she enquired more frostily than intended.

'A scowl doesn't become you,' he murmured, not lowering his gaze nor changing his expression.

'Is that a fact?'

'And sulking suits you even less.'

'There are many things that don't "suit" me,' Sophie remarked airily, 'including swimming pools and broken promises.'

'I've a busy schedule ahead of me this week, I really do.'

Sophie knew he was lying. Part of her respected him for wanting to spare her feelings, the other despised him for pushing her away.

'What happened at the lake yesterday, Michael? I can't remember clearly.'

'You waded too deep; stumbled and lost your footing.'

'I didn't fall.'

'I thought you couldn't remember.'

'I remember someone...something... grabbing my ankle, then pulling me under.'

'Weed.'

'I wasn't tangled in anything. Especially not weed.'

'Miss Burgess, I pulled the stuff from your ankle myself.'

'With all due respect, Mr St Clair, I don't think you're telling me the truth.'

Michael stared at her stonily. 'Are you calling me a liar?'

'Yes.'

For a second something of the Michael she'd grown so fond of flared in those peridot eyes; then the look was gone, smothered by a barrier of contrived indifference as he rose to leave the table.

Sophie rose with him. 'Michael?'

As he hesitated in the doorway, she knew she had to push the point. 'What really happened? I need to know.'

He half turned, exposing his profile. The thick lashes were lowered, his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck. She thought his eyes flickered her way beneath those lids, knew he was fighting her. What he said next, and his reasons for saying it, filled her heart with hurt and more than a little sorrow.

'Elizabeth's right. Staff and family really shouldn't mix.'