by Kate Hardy
‘I have good days and bad days,’ Beatrice said.
‘Call him. Talk to him,’ Vicky advised. ‘Dragging your feet about it won’t achieve anything. I don’t know him so I have no idea how he’ll react. But there’s only one way to find out.’
‘I know. And thank you.’ Beatrice stood up, walked round the table and hugged her. ‘You’re a lot better at wobbly stuff than you give yourself credit for.’
‘Hmm. Stop wriggling out of it and call him,’ Vicky said.
Beatrice took her phone from her bag and switched it on. ‘Oh. There’s a voicemail.’ She listened to it and swallowed hard. ‘Oh, God. I sent him that text saying I couldn’t go to Cornwall with him and I didn’t even make a feeble excuse. And he hasn’t left me an angry message asking what the hell I’m playing at—he’s just asked me if I’m all right and if there’s anything he can do.’
‘A man who didn’t love you would be furious. He’s putting you first,’ Vicky said thoughtfully. ‘That makes him a keeper. Look, I’m going to take this vile hound out to do this business—and why Orlando had to leave him with me this morning I have no idea—so you go ahead and call him.’
* * *
Daniel’s phone shrilled and he looked at the screen.
Beatrice.
He answered swiftly. ‘Beatrice? Are you all right?’
‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I haven’t been fair to you. And I’ll pay for the hotel.’
‘It doesn’t matter about the hotel,’ he said. ‘As long as you’re all right. What’s happened? Where are you?’
‘At Beresford,’ she said.
So he’d guessed right and it was a family emergency. ‘Something’s happened to your family? Is there anything I can do?’
‘They’re all fine,’ she said. ‘Daniel, we need to talk.’
His stomach swooped. Had she left because she’d realised she didn’t want to be with him after all, and she’d wanted space to find the right way to tell him? Just like Jenny had walked out on him, and their marriage had fizzled out after her postnatal depression? ‘OK,’ he said carefully.
‘Would you mind coming here? Nearly everyone’s out—there’s just my sister-in-law Vicky at the house, so we can have some privacy.’
She wanted him to drive all the way out to her family home so she could dump him? Hurt lashed through him. ‘Just give it to me straight,’ he said. ‘Actually, no, I’ll save you the trouble. I come with complications and you’d rather keep this thing between us strictly professional, right?’
‘It’s not that at all,’ she said. ‘We need to talk. Please, Daniel. Or I could come back to London, if you’d rather.’
If she didn’t want to break up with him, what did she want to talk to him about? And if there wasn’t an emergency at her family home, why had she rushed there and cancelled her weekend?
‘What aren’t you telling me?’ he asked.
‘Something I need to discuss with you face to face. I find talking hard, Daniel, and this isn’t something I can do over the phone.’
Reluctantly, he said, ‘OK, I’ll come to you.’
She gave him the postcode for his satnav. ‘Let me know when you’re ten minutes away and I’ll walk down to the gate and let you in.’
‘Tradesmen’s entrance?’ he asked, knowing it was nasty but not being able to stop himself lashing out. She’d hurt him. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in her head.
‘Family private entrance, rather than the one we use for visitors with the public car park,’ she corrected, and he felt small.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’
Beresford Castle was almost an hour’s drive away. As Beatrice had asked, he called her when he was ten minutes away.
‘Thank you for coming, Daniel.’ She sounded cool and calm, completely in control of herself. ‘I’ll walk down to the gate.’
It was a ten-minute walk from the house to the gate?
Then again, she was the daughter of a viscount. The house was open to the public, so it must be enormous.
As he drove past the front entrance, he discovered that the castle was even bigger than he expected. It wasn’t like a child’s storybook castle: more like a mansion, with a square turret at each corner, a parapet, and a dome with a green copper roof on the top.
He was way, way out of his league.
And he didn’t have a clue what Beatrice wanted to talk to him about. What was so important that it would make her cancel their weekend only minutes before they were due to leave, and she couldn’t talk to him on the phone about it?
She’d implied she wasn’t dumping him—but had he got it wrong?
There was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN BEATRICE MET Daniel by the unassuming wrought iron gates, she looked cool and calm and completely at home. Well, of course she would, he thought, cross with himself for being stupid. She was the viscount’s daughter and she’d grown up here.
‘Hi,’ she said.
Her expression was carefully masked. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in her head. Or what to do. Should he get out of the car, the way he wanted to, and take her in his arms? Or would she back away, preferring him to keep his distance?
Then he noticed the black Labrador by her heels.
‘Yours?’ he asked.
‘My brother Orlando’s,’ she explained.
The one whose children had Greek names—and so did his dog, Daniel remembered. ‘Cerberus.’
The Labrador wagged his tail politely at the sound of his name.
‘Fortunately this one has only one head. He’s in disgrace for chomping Henry’s school shoes this morning and then being sick everywhere,’ she said brightly.
‘Uh-huh.’ This was slightly surreal. Beatrice was talking to him—but she wasn’t talking about whatever had made her flee from London to here. He might as well be a million miles away.
‘Welcome to Hades,’ she said.
He frowned. She’d come straight here. Why would she be here if she hated the place? ‘I thought you loved your family home?’
‘I do. I meant me,’ she said.
She saw herself as Hades? But why would she be his idea of hell? He really didn’t understand. ‘Are you getting in?’ he asked when she’d closed the gate behind them.
‘Do you mind if Cerberus comes in the back of your car? For once, he’s not muddy—but he might shed a few hairs.’
‘I can live with dog hairs. I’m here because you wanted to talk,’ he reminded her.
‘We’ll talk at the house.’
And her tone was so determined that he knew it was pointless arguing and trying to get her to put him out of his misery right here and right now. The quicker he drove them to the house, the quicker she’d tell him what was going on. Though he couldn’t help feeling hurt. He’d driven here all the way from London, because she’d asked him to. Right now, she was all efficient and professional, the way she was in the emergency room; there was none of the warmth and sweetness of the woman he knew outside work.
She let the dog into the back of the car, where he lay down on the seat and behaved impeccably, then she got into the passenger seat.
‘Where shall I park?’ he asked as she directed him to the back of the house.
‘Anywhere on the gravel. Next to me would be fine.’
He parked the car; she climbed out and let the dog out of the back, and Cerberus trotted over to a door and sat patiently staring at it.
‘The kitchen. He’s probably going to try scrounging banana bread from Vicky,’ she said. ‘Would you like some? It’s almost lunchtime, so you must be starving.’
Daniel’s stomach was rumbling, but he ignored it. He’d had enough of Beatrice’s politene
ss. ‘I’d rather know what’s going on,’ he said.
‘Fair enough.’ She opened the door, and ushered him inside. ‘Oh. Vicky must’ve gone somewhere,’ she said, sounding surprised that her sister-in-law wasn’t in the kitchen. ‘Cerberus, you bad hound, on your bed. You know you’re not allowed in the main house until the evening.’
The Labrador gave her a mournful look, but went over to a larger wicker basket and threw himself down on the cushions with a dramatic sigh, then lay with his nose on his paws.
‘This way,’ she said to Daniel, and led him through to the main part of the house. The grand entrance hall had a chequered marble floor and oak panelling. There was a very fancy grandfather clock in one corner, cabinets with inlaid marquetry, and what looked like some kind of weighing machine. There were also enormous oil paintings on the wall, all with ornate gilt frames, and Venetian glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
It felt more like a film set than a home. One of those Jane Austen comedy of manners films that Jenny had loved, but had annoyed him because he hated all the snobbishness.
This didn’t bode well.
In silence, he followed her up the wide curving staircase, through corridors lined with more of the huge oil paintings—portraits of Lindford ancestors, he guessed—up more stairs, and finally up a spiral stone staircase.
When they got to the top and she led him out of a narrow wooden door, he realised they were standing on the roof of the house. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’
‘The view’s pretty amazing from up here.’
‘It is,’ he agreed.
‘But that isn’t why I brought you here. This is.’ She gestured to the cupola. ‘My Great-great-uncle Sebastian’s observatory.’
She opened the door and switched on the light. ‘There are two lights. The red light’s for night-time when it’s being used as a proper observatory, and obviously this one is for daytime.’
The walls inside were wooden-panelled; there was a shelf of what looked like books on astronomy, and the ceiling of the dome was painted like an old star map, complete with mythological creatures. In the centre of the room was a large mounted telescope. It was absolutely amazing. ‘Iain would be beside himself with excitement if he saw this.’
‘And I’m looking forward to showing him,’ she said.
But—wasn’t she trying to dump him? Why would she suggest bringing Iain here if she was going to split up with him?
‘My great-great-uncle turned the cupola into an observatory when he came back here after the First World War, so he could sit up here and watch the stars. I guess it was his way of coping with shell shock,’ Beatrice said.
‘PTSD, as we know it now,’ Daniel said.
‘It’s a good place to think. Just you and the sky. Especially after midnight, when the only lights here are security lights that switch on if they detect movement—otherwise it’s miles and miles to the nearest street lamps, so the skies are incredible.’ She pressed a lever, and a slice of the roof slid open. ‘The roof of the dome rotates—there’s another switch for that—so you can move it with the telescope to see whatever you want, at any time of year.’
Then he realised why she’d brought him here. This was obviously her safe place, the way it had been for her great-great-uncle. Her place to think. ‘Is this where you came to sit after you lost Taylor?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Looking up at the stars was the only thing that made any sense, for a while. I got to understand Sebastian very, very well.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I haven’t been fair to you.’
‘I’m sure you had your reasons.’ He held her gaze. ‘Though I would appreciate an explanation. Right now I don’t have a clue what’s happening. And, if I’m being honest, I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t even give me a reason—you just left.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’ve been trying to find the right words. I’m still trying. And I just don’t know how to say it.’
So was she dumping him or not? ‘Keep it simple,’ he said. ‘That’s usually the best way, even when you think it’s complicated.’
‘Oh, it’s complicated, all right,’ she said. ‘I can’t think of a way to soften it, so I’ll try it your way. Forgive me, because this is going to be a bit of a shock.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I’m pregnant.’
He stared at her, not sure that he’d really heard her correctly. ‘Pregnant?’ he repeated.
‘Pregnant,’ she said again.
It felt as if someone had just dropped him from a great height into the middle of the sea. His ears were roaring and he couldn’t breathe. Pregnant? But she couldn’t be. They’d been careful. They hadn’t taken a single risk.
OK, so there was a tiny, tiny—infinitesimally tiny—chance that a condom wouldn’t prevent a pregnancy. A chance so small that he hadn’t really considered it to be a risk at all. They were both over thirty, her fertility levels were dropping by the day, and all the unexpected pregnancies he’d ever heard about were due to taking risks.
But that tiny, tiny chance had resulted in a baby.
‘I’m sorry.’ She looked anguished.
‘It’s not your fault. It takes two to make a baby.’
‘I don’t mean that. I mean I’m sorry for giving you this news just after Jenny dropped her bombshell. I know this is your worst nightmare.’
Now he began to understand what she’d meant about ‘welcome to Hades’. She’d known she was about to resurrect the past for him. Jenny, the postnatal depression, the way Jenny had walked out and left Iain. He’d been very sure that he didn’t want to take that risk ever again and have another child.
But she’d also been very clear that she didn’t want a child. That she couldn’t face the possibility of things going wrong again and losing a baby the same way she’d lost her daughter. ‘It’s your worst nightmare, too.’ He looked at her. ‘So how pregnant are you? When did you find out?’
‘My period’s two weeks late,’ she said. ‘I guess with all that’s been happening, I haven’t really been thinking about my cycle. But I’ve been regular as clockwork for years and years. The only time I missed a period was when I was pregnant with Taylor. And this morning when I got up I felt odd—like I did the last time I was pregnant. When I counted back to my last period and I realised I was late, it was the obvious answer. I kept trying to tell myself that I was being ridiculous and I went through every single medical reason for missing a period, the vast majority of which didn’t apply to me.’ She grimaced. ‘So I bought a test. Just to prove to myself that we’d been careful and of course I wasn’t pregnant. Except the test was positive—and then I panicked.’
And she’d fled to her safe place. Here.
‘I know you don’t want another child,’ she said.
‘You said you didn’t, either.’ He paused, trying to work this out. ‘So if you count back to your LMP, that makes you six weeks.’
‘And I’m scared,’ she said softly. ‘Not just about whether I’m going to be able to carry a baby to term or if I’m going to have an abruption.’
‘What else are you scared about?’
‘Honestly? I don’t know how this is going to work out. We haven’t been seeing each other for very long.’
Then the penny dropped. She hadn’t brought him here to dump him—she’d asked him to come here because she thought he was going to dump her when she broke the news about her pregnancy, and she wanted to be here to lick her wounds.
‘Put it this way, you’re the first woman I’ve dated since my marriage broke up,’ he said. ‘The first in four years. Which I think counts for something.’
‘It’s the same for me. You’re the first man I’ve dated since my marriage broke up,’ she echoed. ‘The first in four years.’
‘Which I think also counts for something,’ he said. The fact that they’d taken a risk on each other, when both of them w
ere so wary about relationships.
‘Maybe. But none of this was supposed to happen.’ She spread her hands. ‘We were supposed to be seeing where this took us. Taking it slowly.’
‘Maybe it’s just happened a little faster than we intended,’ he said wryly.
‘Faster? I’m pregnant,’ she said. ‘That’s so fast it’s almost supersonic. And this is your worst nightmare. You’re worried enough about Jenny’s new pregnancy and what effect it might have on Iain; and you know I had mental health issues after my baby died. That I took an overdose. Doesn’t that make me too risky to be around Iain?’
‘It happened years ago. You’re in a different place now. And what you suggested about Jenny applies to you, too,’ he pointed out. ‘If your health professionals know about your history and they’re keeping an eye on you, and if you have the right support at home...’ He let the words tail off, and sighed. ‘I let Jenny down. I didn’t give her the right support. Who’s to say I won’t let you down, too?’
‘For what it’s worth, I know you weren’t deliberately unsupportive. Everyone missed the signs.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘You’re not the kind of man to let someone down.’
She had rather more faith in him than he did in himself, he thought.
‘So where does this leave us?’ she asked.
‘Honestly? I don’t have a clue. I’ve just found out that you’re pregnant. I’m still trying to get my head round that,’ he said. ‘A baby.’
‘Believe me, I’ve only had a couple more hours than you to get my head round it,’ she said.
‘And have you managed it?’
She grimaced. ‘Yes and no. I talked to Vicky.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She was better than she thought at the wobbly stuff,’ Beatrice said. ‘Though she was a bit brutal. She asked me if I wanted a termination.’
‘That’s one option,’ he said, striving to keep his tone non-judgemental. It was an option that didn’t sit well with him; if there were medical reasons for a termination, if the mum’s life was at stake, then fair enough. But to get rid of a baby just because it wasn’t convenient... To him, that felt wrong.