by Anne Mather
Nevertheless, it took all her courage to go looking for Cole after supper that evening. Meals were taken at irregular times at the moment, and it had been no surprise earlier to find she and Ben were the only ones at the table. Not that Ben was particularly chatty either. She guessed he hadn’t forgotten what he had seen several days ago on the beach, and, while he might have sympathy for her, he must know how Cole was treating her.
She found Cole in the library, sitting at his father’s desk, going over the stacks of bills that still appeared, whatever the circumstances. The management of the plantation was an ongoing thing, and it simply wasn’t possible to abandon these mundane tasks.
Joanna paused in the doorway, checking that almost all the buttons of her full-skirted Indian cotton dress were closed. Patterned in shades of green and black, it was the most conservative item in her wardrobe, and she had worn it deliberately, so that he wouldn’t think she had anything provocative in mind.
He didn’t look up from the desk, even though she was almost sure he must have heard her footsteps, and she had to clear her throat, and say, ‘Cole,’ before he chose to acknowledge her presence.
He did look up then, and she flinched at the look of loathing in his eyes. If she had had any doubts about his feelings for her, they were extinguished at that moment. He hated her, and it showed. She wanted to turn right around and leave him.
But she didn’t. Determination, conscience, remorse, or simply the need to appeal to him one last time, kept her where she was. Cole might hate her, but she loved him, and she couldn’t allow his father’s death to poison the rest of his life. Not if she could help it.
She moistened her lips. ‘Could I talk to you?’
‘What about?’
Cole’s voice was as chilling as his expression, and Joanna knew a hopeless sense of grief. ‘I—just wanted to tell you, I’m leaving tomorrow,’ she said, choosing the least controversial thing she could think of, and then caught her breath uneasily, when he lurched abruptly to his feet.
‘You’re leaving?’ If she hadn’t been able to see his face, Joanna might have been deceived by his intonation. He actually sounded shocked at the news, and almost disapproving.
‘Y-yes,’ she added quickly, glancing behind her at the empty hall, before stepping awkwardly into the room. ‘I—I can’t stay here indefinitely, can I? And you can’t pretend you want me to.’
Cole’s feature hardened. ‘Have I asked you to leave? Has anyone asked you to leave?’
‘No—but——’
‘So this is your decision.’
‘If you put it like that.’ Joanna lifted her slim shoulders in a dismissive gesture. ‘I—I’ve got to get back to London. The—the exhibition——’
‘Oh, yes. The exhibition!’ The way Cole repeated her words was harsh with sarcasm. In a disconcerting gesture, he came round the desk and propped himself against the front. ‘I’d forgotten what a famous painter we have in our midst. Art before honour, is that what they say?’
‘I’ve never heard it.’ Joanna held up her head. ‘And it’s not like that at all.’
‘So how is it?’
Joanna swallowed. ‘If—if I was wanted here——’
‘Yes?’ Cole’s brows ascended. ‘If you were wanted—what?’
‘I’d stay, of course.’
‘On sufferance?’
‘No, not on sufferance.’ Joanna sighed, growing weary of trying to defend herself to someone who was merely tormenting her. ‘I’m not wanted here. You know that, and I know that. It’s better if I leave. Before—before——’
‘Before my father dies, and you might be called upon to show some sympathy,’ finished Cole bleakly, and Joanna’s shoulders slumped.
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘That’s not what I meant at all. I just—have no place here any longer. And I think it’ll be easier for everyone, if I go back to London.’
Cole’s face lost all expression. ‘Very well. I’ll arrange to have Ben drive you into Charleston tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Thank you.’
But as Cole pushed himself up from the desk, and started back to his seat, she lingered. She still hadn’t said what she’d come here for, and, although the prospect was even more daunting now, she had to try.
‘Is there something else?’
Cole had paused beside his desk, and was looking at her with cold, wary eyes, and she shivered. Had she only imagined that morning on the beach? she wondered. She could see little of that man in this remote, unapproachable stranger. Did nothing ever touch him these days? Not even making love …?
Only it hadn’t been love, she reminded herself painfully. It had been sex, pure and simple. She had aroused him, and he had responded. At best, they had used each other.
Now Joanna came forward again, until her hands were within reach of the leather-tooled surface of the desk. But she didn’t touch it, even though she would have welcomed its support. Her damp fingers were linked tightly together—an indication, if he had needed it, of just how nervous she was.
‘It’s about your father,’ she began, and, ignoring Cole’s grim features, she hurried on, ‘Can’t you forgive him? Oh, I know I’ve said some harsh things about him in the past, and I know what he did was wrong, but you have to try and forget it. When—when the truth about Nathan came out, he must have panicked. Of course he was angry. Of course he blamed me for making friends with Nathan, and causing it to happen. Maybe he didn’t realise how sensitive Nathan was. No one could have guessed what would happen. No one wanted Nathan to die. It was an accident—a horrible accident! It doesn’t serve any purpose to crucify the past!’
Cole stared at her impassively, but there was scorn in his voice, as he exclaimed harshly, ‘This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? This was what he brought you here for? You were meant to plead his case for him. God, I should have guessed!’
Joanna expelled a breath she’d hardly known she was holding, and wondered if Ryan had really thought her appeal would do any good. Cole wouldn’t listen to her. He didn’t even like her. How could his father imagine that she would stand a chance?
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Cole said now, and her silence was answer enough. ‘Well, what a pity he left it too late! I guess Nemesis refused to be cheated.’
Joanna sighed. ‘It’s not too late,’ she burst out desperately. ‘Not for you, anyway. Make your peace with him, Cole. For your sake, if not for his. Do it, I beg you. If you don’t, you’re the one who’ll regret it. He won’t be around to care.’
The silence that greeted this last remark went unbroken. And, for the life of her, Joanna couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d done what she could. Now it was up to Cole. But, looking at his bleak face, she doubted it had been enough.
She slipped away then, and returned to her room to do her packing. She felt numb—not only because she knew she had lost the only thing that had any real value for her, but also because she had perjured herself for no reason. Cole wouldn’t listen to her advice, and how could she blame him? It was difficult to be convincing, when you didn’t believe what you were saying.
The next morning, Cole didn’t appear at breakfast, and she guessed he was keeping out of the way until she had left. It was obviously easier for him that way, but was it really easier for her? Hadn’t she secretly hoped to see him if only to say goodbye?
Maggie came out to the car, as Ben was loading her suitcases. She came round to where Joanna was standing, and, in spite of the fact that she had no reason to resent her any longer, Cole’s mother couldn’t resist having the final word.
‘You’re leaving,’ she said, and there was a wealth of satisfaction in her words. ‘Cole give you your marching orders, did he? I knew he would, sooner or later.’
Joanna swallowed. ‘It wasn’t like that. I—have to get back to London.’
‘Really.’ Obviously, Maggie didn’t believe her. ‘Seems like he can’t wait to get shot of you.’
Joanna refused to be
provoked. She knew it was what the other woman wanted, and she was determined not to give her that satisfaction as well.
‘Well, you’re wrong,’ she declared pleasantly, wishing Maggie’s bulk wasn’t preventing her from opening the station-wagon door. ‘It was my decision.’
‘As it was your decision to try and break up this family, right?’ Maggie demanded harshly, giving up all pretence of being civil. ‘Cole hasn’t forgiven you for that, so don’t you forget it!’
Joanna gasped. ‘I didn’t try to break up your family!’
‘Then what would you call it? Believing all those lies about Ryan and that woman! That boy could have been any man’s bastard! How do you know he was Ryan’s? He didn’t even look like him!’
Joanna frowned. ‘I didn’t even know you’d seen Nathan,’ she said, trying to remain calm, and Maggie’s plump features reddened.
‘Oh, I saw him all right,’ she blurted defensively. ‘I saw the two of you together lots of times. Down there on the river-bank. I told Cole what you were doing. I told him you couldn’t wait to give another man what you were denying your lawful husband!’
Joanna gulped. ‘You saw us!’ She shook her head. ‘Nathan and I were friends!’ she protested weakly. ‘Just friends!’
‘And I bet you think I still believe in the tooth fairy,’ Maggie sneered. ‘There’s no man here gonna believe you didn’t let that misbegotten son of a bitch get between your legs, girl! Hell, you were quick enough to believe the worst about Cole’s daddy!’
Joanna swayed. For a moment, she was sure she was going to pass out, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Although the day was hot, she felt chilled to the core of her being. Oh, God, she felt so dizzy. She could feel all the blood draining out of her face.
‘Hey—don’t you go fainting on me, girl!’
Maggie grabbed her arm, and it was a measure of Joanna’s weakness that she didn’t try to shake her off. ‘It’s not true,’ she whispered, gazing at Cole’s mother with wide, accusing eyes. ‘I didn’t—I wouldn’t—I never slept with Nathan. You have to believe me, I’ve never slept with any man but Cole.’
Maggie bundled her aside, and wrenched open the car door. ‘Don’t matter none now,’ she declared, hustling her into the station wagon, and Joanna realised that Cole’s mother didn’t believe it herself. She had probably never believed it. But it was a way to poison Cole’s mind against her, and she used it. As she would have used anything to destroy their marriage, and everything it represented …
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHICH was why she felt no will to get out of bed these mornings, Joanna reflected, glancing at the clock without interest. Since she got back to London, she had had no enthusiasm for anything, and her parents weren’t the only ones who were anxious about her. Grace was worried, too, particularly as Joanna refused to talk about what had happened at Tidewater. For the first time since they had become friends, there was a barrier between them, and no amount of cajoling on Grace’s part could break through the shell she’d erected.
It wasn’t that she blamed the other woman for what had happened. Heavens, Grace had warned her about going there, even if she had felt some compassion for Cole’s father. But Joanna simply didn’t have the heart to tell her what had happened as she was leaving. That was simply too painful to confide to anyone.
And she felt such a fool, too. All these years, she had blamed Cole for using his brother as a scapegoat. She had thought Cole wanted a divorce, and that he had used her friendship with Nathan to achieve his own ends. She had never dreamt his mother might have been lying to him behind her back. No wonder he had reacted so violently, when he found Nathan at the clinic.
And the trouble was, if she permitted thoughts like that to germinate, it put in doubt the whole question of why their marriage had failed. Who knew how long Cole had been fed those lies? Their relationship had been in jeopardy ever since he got back from South America. Might he never have got involved with Sammy-Jean, if he hadn’t thought she was having an affair?
It was thoughts like these that she had to keep at bay. And she couldn’t do that if she spoke of them to Grace. It had been hard enough remembering what Cole had said to his father the night Nathan died, and realising how easy it had been for her to misinterpret his actions afterwards. But, if she ever allowed Maggie’s malicious words to mean anything to her, she might truly lose the will to live altogether.
The phone started to ring again, and Joanna pulled a pillow over her head to drown out the sound. But it didn’t go away, not even when she reached out and snatched the receiver off its hook, and buried it beneath the bedcovers. The intrusive, persistent sound went on and on, and she realised it was the visitor’s intercom from downstairs.
She contemplated not answering it, but Grace would know she was here. Her curtains were still drawn, for heaven’s sake. She wished now she had got up earlier and drawn back the curtains, so that she could at least have pretended to be out. But, even so, Grace was unlikely to believe it. Not since she had refused to attend her own first exhibition.
Pushing herself up, she slid her legs over the side of the bed. But, as she padded wearily towards the door, a wave of nausea hit her. It was so unexpected that she hardly had the time to turn and dash for the bathroom, before she was suddenly and violently sick.
For a few moments, the insistent buzzing from downstairs was drowned out by the heavy thumping of her heart. She leaned over the basin, feeling her stomach churning, and trembling like a jelly. For God’s sake, she thought weakly, whatever had she eaten? She couldn’t believe the tin of soup she had had for supper the night before was responsible for her feeling so ill.
But, to her relief, the nausea subsided as quickly as it had appeared. By the time she had wiped her face on a towel, and examined her pale features in the mirror, she was feeling almost normal. And the buzzing had stopped, she noted gratefully. Oh, well, if it was Grace, undoubtedly she would come back.
Then, as she turned on the taps in the shower, a shattering thought occurred to her. It was exactly six weeks since she had left Tidewater. Six weeks, and she hadn’t had a period in all that time!
Turning off the taps again, and with remarkable calmness, she padded back into the bedroom and pulled her diary out of the bedside drawer. She didn’t keep a diary, except as a kind of calendar, and she riffled through the pages, looking for the dates in question.
A few moments later, she dropped the diary back into the drawer, and sank down weakly on to the side of the bed. She was right, she acknowledged, even though the written proof had been incidental. Her body clock was already telling her all she needed to know. She had actually missed her second period, and unless there was something radically wrong with her metabolism—which she doubted—there was every possibility that she was pregnant.
Her breath escaped on a wispy sigh. ‘Pregnant!’ She said it out loud, as if she needed to hear the word to believe it. She was going to have a baby. After all those barren months, when she had begun to believe she might never get pregnant, the impossible had happened. Cole’s baby was already growing inside her.
Then she tried to be rational. She didn’t know that for sure, she told herself firmly. Accidents happened. She might just be going through some biological upheaval. It was even possible that her emotional state might have something to do with it.
But, deep inside her, she didn’t really believe that. As she ran a tentative hand over her still flat stomach, she felt a growing conviction that the baby was real. She wasn’t inventing the way she felt; she hadn’t imagined her sickness. That morning, on the beach at Tidewater, Cole had given her more than he could ever have imagined.
Cole …
She licked her dry lips. What was she going to do about Cole? Was she going to tell him, and run the risk of his mother trying to take the baby away from her? But how could she keep it from him? Oh, God! The child was his, too.
And then the doorbell rang. Her doorbell this time. Not the buzzer from do
wnstairs. Evidently Grace had bluffed her way into the building. But how could she talk to her now, when she needed time to consider what she was going to do?
Of course, she didn’t have to tell Grace, she acknowledged, getting up from the bed again, and opening the bedroom door. She crossed the hall into the living-room, as the doorbell rang once more, and she grimaced. It wasn’t like Grace to be so impatient. She must be really worried this time.
But an innate caution, born of these years of living alone, stopped her from actually opening the door right away. It was always possible that someone else knew she lived alone, and she had no desire to become another statistic on London’s list of crimes against women in their own homes.
‘Grace?’ she called, her hand on the deadlock, ready to release the latch.
‘No. It’s Cole,’ declared a low attractive male voice that she had never expected to hear again. ‘Come on, Jo. Open up! I was beginning to think Aunt Grace must be wrong, and you weren’t home.’
Joanna slumped against the panels, her fingers falling nervelessly from the bolt. ‘Cole,’ she breathed disbelievingly. Dear God, had she conjured him up out of the air? And what was he doing here in London? He couldn’t know about the baby. She’d only just discovered that herself!
‘Jo, come on.’ His voice sounded a little terse now, as if he was afraid she wasn’t going to answer, and he was using impatience to hide his uncertainty. ‘I’m not going away until I talk to you.’
Joanna took a steadying breath and straightened her spine. ‘What about?’ she asked, her voice as thin and reedy as her stretched nerves, and, although it was barely audible, she heard the muffled oath he uttered.
‘Let me in and I’ll tell you,’ he stated at last. ‘Please, Jo. It’s important. I haven’t flown all this way just to shout at you through the keyhole.’
Joanna gave a helpless shrug, and looked down at her crumpled nightshirt. ‘I—I’m not dressed,’ she said, using the only excuse she could think of. But it was a valid one, she thought ruefully. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her in this state, least of all him.