But the woman sat primly on the edge of her chair, nodding every once in a while and motioning me to continue.
“The old man, who gave us a ride on his barge, was explaining about the bridge’s history when suddenly two men dragged me underwater. An oxygen mask was shoved in my face. Then, they put me in a limo with Michael. You know the rest.”
Her eyes shifted to my lap. My hands had twisted my sweater into a tight pretzel. I blinked. “I’m sure it sounds fanciful, but…”
Mary grabbed my arm, her velvety palms warm and matronly. It made me miss my grandmother. Suddenly, I shrunk into a little girl again. I wanted to rush into her lap and have her rock me.
Through watery eyes I gazed into her strong, azure ones. The crow’s feet around them softened.
“I don’t know why, but I believe you.” She squeezed my elbow. “I may be a useless old nanny, but I do still have Andrew’s ear, and he does listen to my advice.”
“May I ask you something?”
She pressed her hands along her hemline and cocked her head.
“Why did you pretend to be Andrew’s aunt in the bakery? And who’s the lady who played his mother?”
“Ah. She really is my sister. And she does run that clothing charity shop. Her daughter works in the bakery, but her son, my great-nephew, had a fever. I told her I’d fill in for her for a few days. Andrew gave me permission.”
One more piece of the puzzle. “But Andrew called you his aunt.”
“Well, I didn’t want to correct him in front of you. That would have been rude now, wouldn’t it? I figured it embarrassed him to say I’d once been his nanny. The younger generation is so touchy about things like that now.”
This new information twisted in my head. Where did it fit? Had Andrew used his knowledge of her filling in for her niece as part of the plot to get me and Glenda to run to the barge? Which would mean Glenda had been duped as well. Still, why did Mary’s sister pretend to be his mother? Maybe she just needed the money. Too many questions. The tension pressed in like a tight rubber band around my temples.
Get a grip, Jen. Did any of this stuff really matter? My main problem still loomed. I studied the woman sitting in front of me. When she shifted, the house keys in her pocket jingled. A sign? Perhaps she held the key to my freedom.
“Mary, help me. I don’t think I can face Robert. The thought of his hands on me…” A chill raced through me. I wrapped my arms around my waist.
She grinned and laid the back of her hand against my forehead. “You poor dear. No wonder you’re shivering. You have a ghastly fever. No doubt you’ve caught pneumonia from being underwater.”
I scrunched my brows. What?
“You need to be in bed and rest.” She winked. “At least for a few days.”
With a huff, she rose and tugged the bell chord. Jane appeared in a flash.
“Jane. Niamh is ill. I think she’s caught her death.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “See to it that she has a long, hot eucalyptus soak while I call Dr. Wilson.”
My spine stiffened. “Dr. Wilson?”
Jane did the bob thing again. She dashed to run my bath.
My fingers reached for the nanny’s skirt. “Mary. Wait. I don’t think this will work.”
She turned to me. “Never you mind. Dr. Wilson is a dear old friend and confidante of the family. I trust his judgment explicitly. He’ll know exactly what to do for you.”
Like he is doing for the baroness? Dear Lord help me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jane made sure I was well soaked, dressed in a warm, terrycloth robe, and tucked in under blankets and the duvet before tiptoeing out. I noticed someone had upped the heat in my room. In fact, it bordered on sweltering. Maybe so I’d give the impression of being flushed and feverish? I steadied my breath and listened for the heavy footsteps of the doctor padding down the hall, his medical bag laden with pills and syringes. The clock ticked.
My hands clutched and released the sheets. I can’t do this. I threw off the covers and paced the floor. I longed to open the leaded windows. No such luck. Besides, the typical, bone-chilling British drizzle had begun. With the sun hiding behind the gray rain clouds, the room took on a shadowed effect as if God had pulled a soft veil over the world. Normally this type of weather would tempt me to curl up with a good book. I found an English mystery on the shelf, but my mind couldn’t concentrate on the pages. After what seemed to be an eternity, a tap sounded on the door. Without thinking, I responded, “Come in.”
Robert did.
I planted my feet to the floor.
“Heard you were not feeling well. Catch a cold from the river?”
I grabbed a tissue and sniffled for affect.
“You should be in bed.” His mouth curled up to one side.
“I will. After you leave.”
“Ah. Not yet. We need to have a nice, long talk.” He motioned for me to sit down in one of the chairs flanking the coffee table. I obeyed, and tucked my robe round me. His eyes slowly scanned me from head to foot. Then he blinked.
“Yes?”
He sat opposite of me, his legs stretched in front of him. “I guess you wonder why I’m here.”
I crossed mine. My knee peeked from the terrycloth.
His gaze fell to it as he licked his lips.
I smoothed the material over and repositioned my ankles into a proper lady-like weave. “Actually I don’t give a you-know-what why you’re here. I was wondering why I was.”
He laughed. “You’ve gotten your Irish spunk back, my sweet. It had disappeared for a while after the…” His gaze darted away.
“Say it. You can’t, can you?”
He glanced back at me, swallowed, and shifted his focus to the raindrops sliding down the window. “It was for the best, Jen. You must know that.”
“But Marisol was a different story, right?”
He sucked in a deep breath and uncrossed his leg. “Ah, yes. I figured you’d bring that up. She hid it well. I didn’t know until she was five or six months along. By then, well, not many Texas clinics would, let’s say, accommodate my wishes. Not with the new legislations against late-term abortions.” He scratched an eyebrow. “And her religious upbringing got in the way.”
His words stabbed deep within me. I had lapsed in my beliefs after my parents’ deaths. I’d been too mad at God to worship Him. Later, I’d twisted it around into believing God was too mad at me for the sins Robert enticed me to commit, so I couldn’t follow Him. How wrong I’d been.
A crooked grin curled over Robert’s mouth. “Besides, my men told me you’d grown rather fond of her, and her baby…en vitro.”
Bile bubbled in my throat. I wanted to throw something at him. I laid a hand on my abdomen. The hollowness still echoed in my womb. I willed the tears not to form as my fingers clung to the arms of my chair. With every ounce of gumption in my spirit, I made myself stare into his face. Don’t show any emotion, Jen. Don’t give him an opening.
Robert broke eye contact as he coughed into his fist.
Was he nervous? The great white jefe of the drugs and sex slave trade in the Southwestern U.S.? Well now, who knew? A smirk began to creep into my lips. But I pinched them together to stop it.
“I’m rather disappointed you recognized me so readily. I paid a lot for this transformation.” He titled his head, eyes gleaming in the way that used to melt me into a puddle. The same expression had persuaded me not to wait until we were married. That fatal night on my living room couch two weeks after we’d met, I’d lost not only my long-protected virginity to him, but a large portion of my soul. The result ended in the shame of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy.
“Why did you marry me anyway? I mean afterwards. You didn’t have to.”
He leaned forward and cupped his hands as he studied my face. “Being married was a good cover. Besides, I really did care for you. The first few years were blissful, right? I remember how well we filled that marriage bed.”
His eyes warmed, b
ut mine turned colder. “Only, I didn’t know you were filling other beds, too.”
He returned his gaze to the floor. “It was part of the job, Jen. None of them meant anything.”
A laugh spewed from my lips. “That, my dear Robert, is what all men caught in adultery say.”
I got up and walked to the window, afraid if I looked at him any more I’d lose whatever food remnants lodged in my stomach. Any love for him died long ago, but his wizardry still cast a spell over me. I doubted if many this side of heaven, male or female, could resist his persuasive powers. He possessed a twisted charisma that drew people to him. I once read Hitler had the same skills.
“I’m truly sorry, Jen.”
I grabbed the small cross necklace, the one I’d worn strictly out of habit in memory of my parents until a year ago. Now it meant much more. With Tom and Pastor Jake’s guidance, I’d been led back into the faith. Yet, neither Tom nor Jake knew the hidden secret that gouged the black mark on my soul. I blinked the thought away.
Robert’s warmth slid behind me. “Jen, I can make it all up to you.” He laid a soft hand on my shoulder. The heat of his fingers made me twitch.
“My sweet, sweet Jen.” His voice became raspy. Had he mistaken the shudder as a sign of passion? He ran his fingers through my hair. My stomach flipped as I shut my eyes. Lord, please make him stop.
His lips fell close to my neck in a hot whisper. “We can start fresh. I get that you didn’t want Marisol’s child. But, we can make another.”
I spun around so fast, it made the velvet curtains billow. “Get out!”
He locked his knees. “Jen. Things are different. We are still married, you know.”
Strength to defy him, something I didn’t think I had the capacity to do, loomed inside of me. I wiggled my bare ring finger under his newly-sculptured nose. “Only on paper, which by the way, no longer bears my legal name according to the government, right? And”—I paused for emphasis—“you don’t have the same last name either now.”
His face froze, but one eyebrow arched.
“It certainly doesn’t say Manning on our wedding certificate, Edward.”
His nostrils flared. My courage meter rose some more. “You broke our vows. And, you’ve broken my heart for the last time, you, you…vile snake.”
Suddenly, his eyes shimmered. Was he that good of an actor, or had I summoned real emotion? I didn’t care. Firmly and calmly I reiterated through clenched teeth. “Any love I ever had for you is long gone. So, Robert, let me go.”
His pupils darkened, despite the contact lenses. Fire blazed in them. His swift mood change made me back-step. The man was possessed. He had to be.
“And have you run to Interpol, testify against me again? I don’t think so, Jen. Not this time.” His jaw quivered. My eyes shot to his tightly balled fists. He raised one to me, a finger protruding to point in my face. “You are staying with me, if I have to lock you in the tower the rest of your life and force you to be my wife.”
Something inside me snapped, releasing gall to course through my system. I pushed his fist away. “I hate you, Robert. I despise what you’ve become. You make my skin crawl.” With a crack, my hand slapped across his cheek.
He rushed to me. His mouth pressed hard on mine. One leg jabbed between my knees as his hand moved to my buttocks. His breath became fiery.
A scream welled up in me. God help me. I struggled to get it out as his tongue now thrust into my mouth. His grip tightened around my waist as he pinned my arm to my back and pulled me into him.
Then two raps came on the bedroom door.
“Ma’am. Dr. Wilson is here.”
Robert let go and threw me to the bed. His chest heaved. He wiped his mouth and pointed his finger at my nose. “This conversation is not over.”
I crouched there, shaking.
He stomped to the door, threw it open and hissed. “She seems just fine to me. But come in. Have a look at her then.” His glare shot back to me. “Maybe something potent will help calm her mood.”
As Robert pushed past, a stodgy, old gentlemen with unruly sideburns and gray caterpillars for eyebrows entered with a black bag in one hand. “I think you need to be back under those covers, my dear. You’re trembling”
“Y-yes, of course.” I slid under the duvet and sheets and pulled them up to my waist.
He grinned and draped the stethoscope from his bag over his neck. “Good girl. Now, let’s have a look at you.” He then listened for my heartbeat.
His eyes filled with kindness and wisdom. He reminded me of the grandfather on the old TV show called The Waltons, but more sophisticated in his British tweed and vest. Not my knight in shining armor, but he’d come in the nick of time. I considered him a God-send, even if he probably had knock-out pills in that worn, black bag.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Well, my dear. Mary tells me you are feeling a touch under the weather?” He held my wrist, thumb to my pulse. “You are rather flushed.”
I raised my other hand to my cheek. Mary slipped in behind him and stood guard at the door. She cast her eyes down the hall and then back at me with knitted eyebrows and a set jaw.
“I’m okay,” I said, in answer to his question and also her unspoken one.
Mary’s shoulders eased. She closed the door and edged to the end of the bed. “Dr. Wilson, you know me well enough. I wouldn’t have called you if I felt your services were not warranted.” She perched on the corner, back straightened and hands in her lap. “This girl is in more danger than it appears.”
He pulled up the chair from the dressing table and placed his bag on the ground. “Tell me all about it. You can trust me. I have been this family’s physician for over fifty years. Secrets are safe with me.” He turned and winked at Mary. She nodded in response.
I wondered how many. A prominent family had to seem flawlessly superior to the rest of the shire. Reputations might be at stake. He would no doubt take most, if not all, of the indiscretions with him to the grave. Especially his one to convince the baroness she was insane. How could I trust him? I gave it a go anyway. Maybe if he heard the whole story, he’d see what an evil influence Robert had on this household, including him. Worth a shot, no pun intended.
After I had told my tale, though a shorter version than what I’d relayed to Mary, she leaned in. “Dr. Wilson, how can we safely transport this poor child out of here?” She nodded in my direction. “Mr. Manning has deceived us. Andrew’s a stupid boy. Always wanting to be important and have quick cash to flash around. He was easily sucked in, don’t you see? You know how he is.”
Dr. Wilson’s face became stone-still. His eyes stared somewhere else than at me. He appeared to be deep in thought. “Well, yes. As for Andrew, I think that is a matter for me to handle. He has always taken my advice.”
Mary patted my foot tucked under the covers. “And, what about Niamh, er, Jen here?”
He stood straight, his portly frame protruding over his belt. A long white beard and he could easily pass as Santa Claus. “Hospital is the best place for you.” He pulled the covers up to my chin. “I don’t mean the estate surgery. No, no. She must go to Circle Bath Hospital, as a private patient, where she can get proper, around-the-clock care. I’ll put in the orders for her admission. I personally know the Chief Medical Officer there.”
I looked at him, then to Mary. A smile danced in her eyes. Mine filled with dread. Something half-hidden in his expression made me not trust him.
He clasped my hand once more. “Anyone with pneumonia must have professional care lest it becomes endangering to one’s health. The next forty-eight hours are critical.”
Professional care? I didn’t like the sound of that.
Mary clapped her hands. “We’ll make immediate arrangements.” She rose and tugged the bell pull.
Dr. Wilson pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll call for an ambulance to transport you. Don’t worry, though. I’ll ride with you.”
Gee, thanks. How was I going to get out
of this trap? But then again, I’d be surrounded by people and out of Robert’s influence. Even so, what guarantee did I have I’d be taken to the hospital? That possibility made me quake inside as if I’d swallowed a gallon of ice cream in midwinter.
A knock sounded at the door. Jane reappeared with her protocol slight bob.
Mary tented her fingers. “Jane, you stay here with Niamh until the ambulance arrives. She mustn’t be out of bed on her own. Help her pack a few necessities.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I rose up on my elbows. “Wait. I need to speak to Dr. Wilson alone.”
He stopped tapping in the phone number. One white fuzzy eyebrow raised.
“Please, Mary. Jane. Just for a minute.”
The two women left the room.
After the door closed I scooted upright in the bed. “I know what you are doing to the Dowager, Doctor. I overheard Andrew and Robert discussing it. So I am not going anywhere with you.”
The kindly old man expression evaporated from his face. “Your husband is paying me quite well to do his bidding, my dear.”
My hand went to my mouth. Dr. Wilson was knee-deep in the whole muck.
The man pocketed his cell phone. “You may as well learn the plans. You are powerless to change them, you see.” He sat beside me, greed flashed in his face. “He’s given Andrew enough money to keep this place afloat awhile, and Andrew has good plans for it.” The doctor waved his hand around the room. “We’ll make this a sort of discreet, businessman’s retreat, shall we say. Michael Dodding is well respected. His backing will clinch the deal. But such a lucrative enterprise can’t happen with Grandmamma wheeling around.” He opened his black bag. “The woman is near daft anyway. She’s better off in a home with around the clock care. We’re just escalating that need.” He clicked his briefcase closed. “And an uncooperative wife who has to be confined to quarters? Tsk, tsk. We can’t have that now, can we?”
Legitimate Lies Page 13