Her Own Rules/Dangerous to Know

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I don’t know whether anybody sued or not. There was a huge public outcry after the documentary aired. It revealed a horrendous scandal and pricked the conscience of the nation. People were outraged. The government tried to deny its complicity but everyone understood there had been collusion.”

  “But why did the government do it?”

  Kate said in a voice of scorn, “What an easy way it was to populate the colonies, sending children to the far-flung corners of the empire. It’s been going on for hundreds of years, and small children were still being shipped off as late as 1967.”

  “How appalling. It’s contemptible.”

  Kate nodded and said, “You’ll see a clipping from the TV Times in the envelope, announcing the documentary. The magazine listed telephone numbers, helplines. I rang them up, Mari. I was so worried you might be one of those children. I wanted to know how a mother could find a child that had been sent as a migrant. The helpline people told me that wasn’t possible, that a mother couldn’t find a child. Apparently a parent and child could be reunited only if the child set out to find the long-lost mother or father.”

  Kate leaned back against the sofa, closed her eyes for a moment. Then, looking at Meredith at last, she said, “You grew up to be a beautiful woman, Mari. You look like my mother. You have her face, her eyes.”

  Meredith was thrilled to hear this, and a vivid smile flooded her face with radiance. “I don’t remember having a grandmother.”

  “She was already dead when you were born. She was killed in a bombing raid in the Second World War. It was my father who brought me up after he got out of the army. He died when I was seventeen.”

  “What about my father? Where is he?”

  “He’s dead too, Mari. He left us when you were about eighteen months old. He went off to Canada with another woman, deserted us. I finally divorced him when Nigel wanted me to marry him.”

  “Has he made you happy?”

  “He’s tried very hard, very hard indeed, Mari. But I haven’t been easy to live with over the years. My grief for you has always consumed me to a certain extent . . . it’s so hard to lose a child, especially the way I lost you. It’s not as if you died. I knew you were out there somewhere. I yearned for you . . . yearned to see you, to touch you. My heart was broken. Poor Nigel, he’s had a lot to contend with. But he’s patient. Long-suffering. He’s a good man.”

  “And you never had another child?”

  “Oh no. I was thirty-eight when I married Nigel. Perhaps I should have, maybe it would have helped me, I don’t know . . . Nigel was a widower, his wife had been a friend of mine. Veronica. A lovely woman. She died of a brain tumor, and I helped Nigel through that very bad period in his life. Comforted him as best I could. Five years after her death he proposed. I brought up his two sons, Michael and Andrew. And it’s been a good marriage in so many ways.”

  “I’m glad you’ve had someone nice like Nigel. I’ve often wondered . . . how old were you when I was born?”

  “Nineteen. I’ll be sixty-three this summer, Mari.” Kate let out a deep sigh. “All those years without you. How did you find me? Did it take you a long time?”

  “No, not really, once I’d started looking. Before I tell you how I did locate you, I have another question for you.”

  “Anything, Mari, ask me anything.”

  “Did you ever take me to Fountains Abbey?”

  “Yes, several times. It’s a favorite spot of mine, and it always has been. Coming from Harrogate as I do, I’ve spent a lot of time in Ripon over the years. But why do you ask?”

  “Did anything terrible or upsetting ever happen to me or to us at Fountains?”

  “Yes. I started to feel unwell there in the spring of 1957. I’d taken you on a picnic, and I passed out for a while. I know you were very frightened because we were alone. Eventually I came around, and somehow we made it into Ripon and caught the bus back to Harrogate, then another one to Leeds. It was a Sunday. Later that week I was diagnosed as having TB, and I was packed off to Seacroft.”

  “I never saw you again, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “That explains it.” Meredith recounted her experiences at Fountains, told her about her sense of déjà vu. “No wonder I felt a tragic thing had happened there, had such a sense of loss. Anyway, what that experience did was create something called psychogenic fatigue in me. My physician sent me to a psychiatrist and she and I began to dig into my past. She was convinced I was suffering from repressed memory.”

  “You mean you repressed your memories of me?”

  “No, not exactly. I did remember certain things. But being torn away from you so cruelly, wrenched away from your love and care as a child was so painful to me, I’d blocked everything out. Dr. Benson managed to get me on the right track, but it was my daughter, Catherine, who triggered the most important memory, at least so I think.”

  “You have a daughter and you named her for me?” Kate exclaimed, her face lighting up.

  “She’s twenty-five and beautiful. She has your eyes. And I think your disposition. I didn’t actually know I was naming her after you . . . I spelled her name with a C. But obviously I’d remembered your name was Kate . . . Katharine. It was buried in my subconscious.”

  “What was the memory she triggered?”

  “Just before I left for London last week I went to see her, to discuss plans for her marriage. She made tea, later brought out a dish of strawberries, and she said something to me that brought a memory rushing back. I saw your face very clearly, that face I’d loved all of my life and longed for. And I just knew it was my mother’s face I was seeing in my mind.” Meredith had begun to weep; she searched for her handkerchief, blew her nose.

  Kate’s eyes were moist when she asked, “What was it Catherine said?”

  “Just a few simple words actually . . . ‘I have a treat for you, Mom. Strawberries.’ Instantly your face was before my eyes and you were serving me strawberries. At that moment a variety of other memories came back to me, and I had many more on the plane coming over to London that same night.”

  Meredith paused, blew her nose again, and continued. “There’s something I should explain to you. I’d always believed you were dead. That’s what they told me at Dr. Barnardo’s. So when the memory of you had fully returned, I confided in my English partner, Patsy Canton. She took me to the General Register Office in London to look for your death certificate. You see, I wanted, needed, to visit your grave. I wanted closure for myself at long last. But of course there was no certificate; we knew you must be alive. It was Patsy’s idea to look for my birth certificate, since we were seeking as much information as we could. My birth certificate led us to Armley and Hawthorne Cottage. Although it’s now a pile of rubble, I did discover how well I knew that spot, and more lovely recollections of you surfaced.”

  “I’m glad you found me before it was too late,” Kate murmured.

  “So am I.”

  Now Kate glanced at Meredith curiously and said softly, “You don’t wear a wedding ring. Are you divorced?”

  “Yes, I am. You have a grandson, by the way. His name is Jon and he’s twenty-one. He’s studying at Yale. I can’t wait for you to meet him and Catherine.”

  “Grandchildren,” Kate said wonderingly. “I have grandchildren. How wonderful.”

  “I’m very proud of them. They’ve turned out well.”

  “The one thing you haven’t told me is how you got from Australia to America.”

  “That’s a very long story,” Meredith responded. “I’ll explain everything later. After all, we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

  There was the sound of footsteps in the hall, and Meredith swung her head. She saw a tall, distinguished-looking man standing in the doorway observing them.

  Kate had also turned around. She jumped up, exclaiming, “Nigel, she’s found me. As I always prayed she would. My Mari’s found me. She’s home to me at last.”

  “Thank God,” he said, walk
ing into the library to join them, a look of immense relief spreading across his face.

  Meredith rose, stretched out her hand to him.

  He took it. And without any kind of preamble he pulled her into his arms and embraced her. “Now, at last, Kate will have peace of mind,” he said.

  As they drew apart, Meredith found herself looking into one of the kindest faces she had ever seen.

  Nigel Grainger’s smile was warm as he gazed at her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for keeping my mother safe for me.”

  EPILOGUE

  TIME FUTURE

  “Now, ladies, look right at me and smile,” Jon said, picking up his camera, peering into the lens. “Not quite right,” he muttered. “Mom, move in closer to Grandma. And, Cat, you do the same thing. I want to get a really tight shot.”

  “Oh, do hurry up, Jon, I want to go and find my lovely new husband!” Cat exclaimed.

  After a few minor adjustments, Jon finally began to shoot the roll of film. Within minutes he was exclaiming, “There, all finished, and it wasn’t so bad, Cat, was it? Now I have a lovely set of shots for Grandma’s album, and for you if you want them. Three generations of women. I never dreamed I’d see that day.”

  Cat offered him a loving smile. “I just know I’m going to like yours better than the professional photographer’s pictures.”

  Grinning, he said, “Go on, scoot. Find that new husband of yours. In a few minutes there’s going to be chaos here, once the Pearson clan start swarming all over like locusts.”

  “Hey, watch what you say,” Cat cried, waving her hand at him, displaying her wedding ring. “I just became a Pearson, remember.” She walked over to kiss him on the cheek and said affectionately, “Thank you for giving me away, Jon.”

  “Did I do okay, sis?”

  “You were terrific.” She laughed again and floated off on a cloud of white silk and tulle, heading toward Keith, who stood talking to his father in the entrance hall of the inn.

  Jon strolled over to Kate and Meredith. He said, “It was a great ceremony, Mom, and the old barn was really effective as a church. I guess it was the way you decorated it with all that white silk and the banks of white flowers.”

  “Thanks, darling, and I was pleased myself with the way it turned out.”

  Kate murmured, “I found the ceremony very moving.” She smiled at her daughter and grandson. “I must admit, I cried.”

  “Most women do cry at weddings, Grandma.” Jon squeezed her arm. “And you’re the icing on the cake. I’m so glad Mom found you.”

  “Oh, so am I,” Kate answered.

  “Well, I’m off to have a drink with the guys,” Jon announced, edging away.

  “Guys?” Meredith repeated, raising a brow. “Who do you mean?”

  “Luc and Nigel. They just came in.”

  He strolled off, leaving Meredith and Kate near the entrance to the inn’s dining room.

  Both women looked elegant; Kate was dressed in a dark rose-pink wool suit and Meredith in a smoky-blue dress and coat; standing close together as they were, it was easy to see they were mother and daughter. They bore a strong resemblance to each other, although Meredith was taller.

  It was the second Saturday in October, a lovely Indian summer day. The sky was cerulean blue, clear and cloudless, filled with brilliant sunshine, and the foliage at Silver Lake was spectacular. The trees had just turned, were a riotous mass of reds and pinks, russets and golds.

  “We couldn’t have asked for a better day,” Kate said, glancing out of the window, looking down toward the lake. “It’s perfect for the wedding.”

  “We’ve been lucky, although Connecticut usually is lovely in October.” Taking hold of Kate’s arm, Meredith ushered her into the dining room, recently enlarged to accommodate the many guests attending the wedding. “Just come in here for a moment, Mother, I want to say something to you.”

  Kate threw Meredith a concerned look. “Is there something wrong? You sound so serious.”

  Meredith shook her head. “No, I just wanted to thank you for being here with me these past two weeks, and for doing so much to help with Cat’s wedding. You’ve been wonderful.”

  “I should be thanking you, Mari,” Kate replied, and made a moue with her mouth. “I’ll never be able to call you anything else but Mari, you know.”

  “That’s all right. . . I understand.”

  “I never thought this would happen,” Kate suddenly volunteered. “That I’d be able to spend this precious time with you. You’ll never know what it’s meant to me.”

  “Oh, but I think I do . . .”

  “You’ve spoilt me, Mari, and Nigel. The trips to Paris and the Loire, as well as New York. All this wonderful traveling, why, we’d hardly been out of Yorkshire until you came back into my life.”

  Meredith made no comment, she simply touched her mother’s arm affectionately. There were moments when she couldn’t quite believe that she had found her mother after all these years.

  Kate glanced out of the window again, her face thoughtful when she finally turned back to Meredith. “I’m glad you found your way here to Silver Lake those many years ago. It’s such a beautiful spot, so like Yorkshire. You must have had a guardian angel watching over you.”

  “Perhaps I did.”

  “Yes, you were lucky to find Amelia and Jack, to have them in your life, if only for those few brief years. They made up for your earlier heartbreak, Mari, that loveless upbringing at the orphanage in Australia. You had love and kindness and caring from them, and I will be forever thankful for that. They helped to make you what you are today.”

  “Who knows what I would have been like if I hadn’t met them. A terrible mess, probably.”

  “Maybe not, we’ll never know. But I think there’s something special in you . . . a will to endure, to succeed no matter what.”

  Meredith leaned into Kate, kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, Mother.”

  “And I love you too, Mari.”

  The two women walked back through the dining room, their arms linked. Just before they reached the door, Kate said, “It’s going to be wrenching, leaving you. I wish I didn’t live so far away.”

  Meredith was silent.

  Kate looked at her swiftly and added, “I know you said I can visit anytime. But I can’t very well keep leaving Nigel alone. And he can’t always come with me, Mari, because of his practice.”

  Meredith said, “As it turns out, I’m not going to be so far away after all.”

  “Oh?”

  Meredith peered across the entrance hall of the inn, now crowded with people. The reception was in full swing. A small smile flitted across her mouth.

  Kate noticed this, followed the direction of her daughter’s gaze, then swiveled her eyes back to Meredith.

  “I’m going to marry him, Mother,” Meredith said, her gaze still resting on Luc. “And so I’ll be living in Paris. Only a couple of hours from Yorkshire.”

  “Oh darling, I’m so happy for you. Congratulations!” Kate exclaimed. There was a brief pause before she said worriedly, “But what about your business here? It means so much to you.”

  “There’s only Silver Lake Inn left, now that I’ve sold the one in Vermont. Blanche and Pete have been running this place for years, and doing such a good job of it. They’ll continue. I’ve enough to keep me busy with the inns in England and France.”

  “It’s good that you’ve been able to work it out. Luc’s such a wonderful man.”

  “He’s had his share of heartbreak too. I think we both deserve a break, a bit of happiness—” Meredith broke off as Luc walked over to join them.

  Putting his arm around Kate, he looked down at her and said, “Ever since we met in June, I had a feeling I knew you, Kate. Suddenly, a moment ago, I realized why. You remind me of the woman who brought me up, my grandmother.”

  Grandma Rose, of course, Meredith thought, recalling the painting at Talcy. They had the same coloring, the same blue eyes, t
he same heart-shaped face.

  “How lovely,” Kate murmured, then continued. “I understand congratulations are in order. I’m so happy the two of you are getting married.”

  Luc beamed at her. “Ah, so Meredith told you the good news.”

  Kate nodded, excused herself, wanting to leave them alone. She walked across the room lightly, as if floating on air, went in search of her husband. She was so happy, so proud. Who would have thought that her little Mari would turn out to be such a remarkable woman.

  Luc took hold of Meredith’s hand, stared deeply into her smoky-green eyes. “You know, chérie, you look so very serene today. It lifts my heart to see you so happy. From the moment I met you, I wanted to erase the sadness from your eyes, dispel the pain I knew lurked deep within you. But now I don’t have to . . . I believe finding your mother has done that.”

  Meredith did not answer for a moment or two. She simply returned his penetrating gaze; then finally she said, “It was finding both of you, Luc. You and she make me feel complete, whole.”

  Luc smiled at her. “That’s because we love you.”

  He tucked her arm through his, and together they moved forward into the throng of wedding guests.

  Dangerous to Know

  DEDICATION

  For Bob, with all my love

  EPIGRAPH

  Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.

  — Lady Caroline Lamb, writing of her lover,

  the poet Lord Byron

  PART ONE

  VIVIENNE

  LOYALTY

  CHAPTER ONE

  The first time I met Sebastian Locke I fell in love with him. He was thirty-two years old. I was twelve. I had no idea at the time that he was my mother’s lover. Nor did I know then that ten years later I would marry him.

  Now he was dead.

  He had died in somewhat mysterious, even suspicious, circumstances. It was not yet known whether he had died of natural causes, committed suicide, or been murdered.