by Anne Mather
Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous
collection of fantastic novels by
bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred
and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than
forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,
passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Seen by Candlelight
Anne Mather
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
KAREN STACEY slid out of the driving seat of her small black saloon and slipped her sheepskin overcoat about her shoulders before locking the car door. Shivering slightly in the frosty March air, she crossed the pavement and opened the door of the Georgian-styled cottage which her mother owned in this quiet mews.
Inside all was warmth and light and Karen shrugged appreciatively in the pleasant atmosphere. Liza, her mother’s housekeeper, greeted her warmly, taking her coat and hanging it in the hall closet. Liza had been with her mother since Karen was a child, and yet to Karen, she never seemed to look any older.
With a smile now, Karen asked: “Where is my mother, Liza?”
“In the sitting-room, Miss Karen,” replied Liza, her eyes showing their dislike of Karen’s casual attire. Tight-fitting stretch slacks and a chunky sweater were anathema to Liza. “Must you wear those disgusting trousers, love?” she exclaimed. “They’re hardly suitable for a young lady.”
Liza was terribly old-fashioned. She had never married herself and had always looked on the Stacey children as her own. And with the familiarity of years she invariably spoke her mind. It amused Karen now and she answered:
“Oh, Liza darling, I’ve just left my drawing-board. You can’t possibly expect me to dress up just to come round here. Not when I’ve got to go back and go on working. Besides, slacks are very warm and very fashionable at the moment.”
Liza shrugged, grimacing, and with a chuckle Karen left her to enter the sitting-room. This was the room which overlooked Masewood Mews and was a very pleasant room. The whole cottage was comfortably, if not opulently furnished, and Mrs. Stacey lived here with her younger daughter, Sandra. Karen did not see as much of them as she should, she knew, but her work and the painting she did in her spare time kept her quite busy and besides, this house brought back too many painful memories which were best forgotten.
Her mother was seated at a bureau writing letters when Karen entered the room and she rose to greet her elder daughter. There was little resemblance between them, for Karen was an ash-blonde while her mother’s hair had once been a vivid auburn.
Mrs. Stacey crossed the room and bestowed a kiss on her daughter’s cold cheek. Then she drew back and surveyed her thoroughly.
“It’s good to see you,” said Karen, smiling. “It’s so long since I’ve done so.”
“Yes, darling,” murmured Madeline Stacey absently. “I … er … I didn’t hear you arrive.”
“From your tone on the telephone I assumed a major catastrophe was about to occur,” remarked Karen lightly. “I had visions of your waiting on the doorstep for my arrival. Instead, you seem engrossed with your own thoughts.”
Madeline sighed heavily. “Well, my dear, I must admit I am rather cross with you for neglecting us for so long. We are your only kith and kin, you know. You really ought to care about us.”
“But I do,” exclaimed Karen, guiltily aware of her own indiscretions. “It’s simply that I never seem to have the time. I lead a very full life really, Mother. But anyway, what is there to stop you from visiting me? The apartment is only a stone’s throw away.”
Madeline raised her eyebrows. “My dear Karen, whenever I visit you I find myself thrust to one side like so much rubbish, while you engross yourself in some new design or paint those ghastly abstracts. Alternatively, I’m entertained, but am always conscious that I’m stopping you from getting on. I could hardly say I was made welcome, however unkind that may sound.”
Karen felt uncomfortable. She knew that what her mother had said was partly true, but Madeline’s limited conversation, which was mainly gossip anyway, bored her stiff, and she did prefer to work alone.
“All right, honey,” she agreed now. “You’ve made your point quite thoroughly. Now, what’s your problem? The one that’s hot off the press?”
Madeline indicated that Karen should sit down on a low armchair and turned away slowly. Karen sighed in exasperation. Much as she really loved her mother she knew only too well how she adored to dramatize things and it was obvious that this was not going to be the brief visit that she had hoped for. Madeline had something on her mind and she would not rest until she had extracted the very utmost out of it. Karen drew out her cigarette-case and helped herself to a cigarette, but her mother’s first words startled her so much that she almost dropped it.
“Have you seen Paul lately?” began Madeline, in a contrivedly casual tone.
“Paul?” Karen felt as though she was playing for time. Time to gather her suddenly shocked senses together. With trembling fingers she lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, savouring the nicotine in her lungs, relaxing. “No,” she replied slowly. “We never meet, and you know it. Why do you ask? Oh … I suppose you saw the notice of his engagement in The Times.”
“Yes, I did see that,” agreed her mother slowly. “Ruth Delaney, I believe that was her name. Some American girl, a tycoon’s daughter, if I remember correctly.”
“You’re in complete possession of the facts,” remarked Karen rather dryly. This was no casual remark. “Well, Mother, why should I have seen Paul?”
Mrs. Stacey shrugged. “I thought perhaps he might have telephoned to object about Sandra going out with Simon.”
Karen’s eyes widened. “Simon!” she exclaimed. “Simon Frazer is going out with Sandra? But he’s married; you must be joking.”
“I only wish I were,” said Madeline stiffly. “I don’t joke about things like this, Karen. I’m at my wits’ end. She refuses to give him up, even though I’ve begged her to do so. You know how unmanageable Sandra has always been, how headstrong and self-willed.”
Karen frowned. “You have only yourself to blame for that,” she said coolly. “You’ve always given in to her.”
Madeline’s lips thinned. “Thank you,” she exclaimed furiously. “And what would you have done if you had been left alone with two young children to bring up?”
“I would have treated them both alike, instead of coddling one and making a rod for my own back,” retorted Karen. “Anyway, Mother, that’s hardly relevant now. I agree that Simon Frazer is no fit associate for any young girl, let alone an impressionable idiot like Sandra! How did you find out about them? I don’t suppose she told you.”
“Oh, no; not a word. A friend saw them dining together last week and couldn’t wait to telephone me to let me know. Sandra is only seventeen, Karen. Simon Frazer must be over thirty; after all, Paul is thirty-seven, isn’t he?”
“Ah, yes,” Karen drew on her cigarette. “Where does Paul come into all this?” She shivered. “Simon is only his brother, you know.”
“As I’ve already said, I asked Sandra to stop seeing Simon. She simply laughed at my arguments and refused to take any notice of me. She says she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Both you and I know how foolhardy that statement is with a man like him. Something has got to be done. I think Paul is the only person able to do that something.”
“So?” Karen’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“I want you to get in touch with Paul and ask him to speak to Simon –”
Karen sprang to her feet. “No!” she exclaimed abruptly. She ran a restless hand over her shoulder-length straight hair. “I won’t do it. Paul and I parted in the divorce court two years ago and I just couldn’t contact him now. It’s out of the question.”
Madeline frowned. “So your own pride is greater than your sister’s downfall? She is your sister, Karen, your seventeen-year-old sister!”
“Stop play-acting, Mother,” cried Karen, inwardly seething. “It won’t work. I refuse to do it. Sandra is seventeen, as you’ve said. She’s not a child. She must make her own mistakes. After all, I was only eighteen when I met Paul.”
“And look what happened to your marriage,” taunted her mother cruelly. “Five years and it was all over. Here you are, twenty-five years old and already a divorcee. Not that there’s any question of marriage in the circumstances. As you’ve said, Simon is married. That makes everything so much worse.”
Karen was pale. This conversation was raking up all the painful past that she had tried to bury these last two years. She had always known that her mother had resented her break with Paul for purely selfish reasons, but to fling it all in her face now almost brought Karen to tears. How could Madeline be so unkind? But tears were a luxury that Karen had never indulged in and she did not so so now. She had always been an independent sort of person, like her father, and Madeline had clung to the baby, Sandra, and spoiled her utterly when their father was killed in an air crash a long while ago.
Karen knew that Madeline wanted to save Sandra from herself and she did not care if she hurt her elder daughter in the process. Karen was tempted to leave immediately and let them work it out alone, but she knew if she did so, she would never be welcome here again. As her mother had said, she and Sandra were Karen’s only blood relations and to cut herself off from them would leave her completely alone. How could she do such a thing?
“Well?” exclaimed her mother. “Are you going to let your sister’s life be ruined?”
Karen sighed heavily. The ultimatum had come and she was not ready for it. What could she say? How could she explain that it was not merely pride that kept her from contacting Paul? That she was frightened of her treacherous emotions and afraid that he might see how disturbed she was.
But Simon, too, had a wife whom he never considered and although Karen had never liked Julia Frazer, she was still involved. Perhaps Paul might be glad to break up the affair. After all, he had no reason to love the Stacey family.
“All right,” she agreed at last. “But why should you imagine that Paul will take any notice of me? Let alone speak to Simon.”
“Paul used to be very fond of Sandra,” replied Madeline, inwardly exulting at Karen’s surrender. “And he knows what kind of a man Simon is.”
Karen stubbed out her cigarette and thrust a hand into the pocket of her slacks. She was committed to speaking to her ex-husband. God, weren’t memories hateful enough without reinforcing them with reality? How could you meet a man with whom you had shared the tenderest intimacies of marriage without feeling a knife turn in your inside? She supposed dully that it should have been easier, but they had been so much in love and now …
She had been eighteen when she met Paul Frazer. He was then the chairman of the board of the Frazer Textile Industries whose head office was in London, and Karen was a very junior designer working for the company. She had worked there for almost two years without ever dreaming she would come in contact with the young dynamic tycoon whose named spelled “Success” with a capital S. She had heard plenty about him from her colleagues, but he did not concern himself with the small fry like them. Still a bachelor at thirty, he was the most sought-after man in London, and the social papers and magazines splashed stories about him wherever he went.
For all this, Karen had secretly believed that the man could not seriously add up to his image. It had amused her to listen to the girls raving about him, but she had not been particularly interested. Men had always been attracted to her and she had plenty of admirers in her own sphere without looking on to a higher, much more futile, plane.
And then she produced, as much to her surprise as anybody else’s, a design for a carpet which was quite brilliant. The Frazer Combine produced various ranges of textiles and the carpet design was a completely original piece of work.
To her embarrassment, she was sent for by the man himself, and had to go to his office on the sacrosanct top floor of the Frazer building. She had been not so much nervous as embarrassed, but when the chief designer introduced her to Paul Frazer she found herself completely absorbed by his overwhelming charm and personality. Far from over-estimating the man, she found him absolutely more devastating than his reputation and was therefore astonished when later in the week he rang her office and invited her to dinner.
She accepted, of course, much to the envy of her friends, and found to her amazement that he was actually interested in her as a person, and not as a designer.
Within a few weeks their relationship had assumed such proportions that Paul, who had never been used to being denied anything from a woman, found his every waking moment a torment of wanting to possess her, and his admiration for her ideals kindled into love. Karen, who had been attracted to him from the beginning fought against the love which threatened to overwhelm her, but when Paul eventually proposed marriage she was utterly consumed with happiness.
They had flown to the Bahamas for their honeymoon and were away for three idyllic months. Karen had never known such happiness and Paul grew relaxed and lazy and sun-tanned. They adored each other, but when they returned to England to the house which Paul had bought near Richmond, they both resented the return to normality. Paul had to spend a lot of time at the office then, making up the work that had been left to slide in his absence, and Karen was left alone.
To begin with she was not lonely. The house needed a complete redecoration, and Paul had only a few of the rooms furnished so that Karen might do the whole place over to her own liking. With the help of a
team of interior decorators Karen set to work, and the result pleased Paul just as much as Karen. She loved the evenings best when Paul came home to her. They rarely went out or entertained, and spent hours alone, talking and making love.
Then, as time passed, Paul, who had neglected a great deal of his normal work to be with Karen, found it necessary to visit the factories in the Midlands and the North of England where Frazer Textiles were produced. Being an active man, and interested in his work, he had always disliked delegating duty, and it was over a year since he had made a tour of inspection. With reluctance, he left Karen at home when he went to visit the factories. He knew if he took her with him he would be unable to concentrate. When she was with him nothing else could take precedence.
For a while, Karen’s duties at Trevayne absorbed her, and she spent her time swimming in the pool in the grounds, or inviting friends over for tennis or drinks.
But as the years passed, apart from having holidays with Paul, their time together was limited to the evenings. Week-ends were given over to entertaining, and Karen began to hate the rigid pattern of their lives. She was bored; not with Paul but with having too much time and too little to do.
Eventually she asked Paul whether she could go back and work for the company. Paul was astounded, and refused point-blank. Apart from wanting her at home when he needed her, he objected to her working when it was so unnecessary. Her pleas of boredom were shrugged off, and Karen found herself getting irritable and frustrated. The combination of these two emotions began the series of arguments and rows about her work and about her aimless position in the house. Paul, who had assumed her too young to start a family, now suggested that they do just that, but Karen was too stubborn and foolish to agree and thus give in to him again. She refused abruptly, and to her horror Paul moved his clothes into the spare guest-room.
She was frightened and terrified of the results of her own actions, but too full of pride to beg him to come back to her.