Back in her room, gazing at the key before hiding it tearfully away, she wondered how she had come to hate Quentin so easily. There was love, too, but this she refused to acknowledge, preferring to concentrate on her hate and thoughts of revenge. Quentin was in a position to hurt her badly, but some time in the future, if she were patient, she might somehow get a chance to hurt him.
Gina was surprised, a few days later, when Mrs Hurst unexpectedly sent for her. As it was Saturday Quentin was at home, and when he was his mother liked to have lunch with him, and have coffee afterwards with him in the library. She often said it was one of the few opportunities she got for discussing her domestic affairs with him.
Gina had just finished her own lunch, although she had found it difficult to eat much. Ever since her encounter with Quentin in the stables she had felt depressed, but when Mrs Worth asked if there was anything wrong she pretended it was only a headache.
'You're wanted in the library,' Matthews told her ponderously as he entered the kitchen.
'Was that Sir Charles Hearn you were showing in?' asked the irrepressible Myra.
'It's none of your business, young lady,' Matthews sniffed, 'but yes, it was.'
'Wonder what he's after?' Gina heard Mrs Worth murmur idly, as she left the room.
Between Matthews and herself there was a kind of unspoken truce, but he still frowned on her more than he smiled, and the frown was very much in evidence today as, in the course of duty, he came along to open the library door for her and to close it behind her quietly.
Once inside Gina paused, selfconsciously adjusting her mob-cap. She recognised Sir Charles Hearn from having seen him at the stables. It must have been about two years ago. He had been interested in a horse they had had for sale, but he hadn't bought it, and she couldn't recall seeing him since. She did remember Quentin's father saying that Sir Charles lived on the other side of Dorking.
He was standing. He had rather surprised her by jumping to his feet as she came in, and she suddenly realised he was staring at her closely. He appeared so shocked that she began feeling uncomfortable and was relieved when she heard Quentin suggesting quietly to Sir Charles that he should sit down again.
Gina wondered why everyone was watching her so intently. No one had spoken to her, but they all seemed to be gazing at her in a very peculiar fashion. Indeed, Sir Charles looked incapable of speech, although his mouth worked strangely, and she was curious to know what it was about her that was affecting him so oddly. Why, she wondered, had he called?
Tearing her eyes from Sir Charles's anguished ones, she turned uncomfortably to Quentin's mother. 'Matthews said you wanted to see me, Mrs Hurst.'
It was as though the sound of her voice broke the dam of shock and amazement that was struggling for release inside Sir Charles Hearn. As Quentin took a grim step towards her, Sir Charles was there before him, stunning her by swiftly removing her cotton cap with trembling hands.
As Gina, in astonishment, tried to prevent him, he exclaimed with an alarming hoarseness, 'I knew it! As soon as she came through the door, I knew she couldn't be anyone else but my granddaughter. This hair would confirm it, if nothing else did!'
His hands, touching lightly and excitedly on Gina's startled head, came to rest on her tense shoulders. She could feel his hands shaking, as though he was unable to stop them, and, suddenly nervous, she cast a bewildered glance at Quentin. She might hate him but, instinctively, he was the one she looked to for help.
Yet it was Quentin's face, as she waited apprehensively for him to refute Sir Charles's crazy statement about her being his granddaughter, that startled her most. His face was a frozen mask, so pale that she had an immediate premonition of disaster. What had she done now to deserve such a look? He was staring at her as if she was someone he had never seen before. Uneasily she tried to wriggle from under Sir Charles's detaining hands.
Then suddenly her attention was wrenched from Quentin by the astonishing words which began falling thickly from Charles Hearn's thin lips. 'Yes, you're Virginia's child, right enough. There can be no mistake. And to think I've been living so near to you all these years and had no idea!'
'You're sure, Charles?'
To Gina's ears, Mrs Hurst's voice sounded slightly incredulous. She felt a little like that herself.
'Yes, Lydia,' Charles nodded decisively. 'Even without seeing her the evidence is indisputable. No doubt about it. I'm in possession of the full facts and once I saw her I knew. It was like watching my own daughter—or no…' he hesitated, 'my mother, whom I believe Gina closely resembles, coming back to life. She has the same bones, the same hair, the same beautiful slightness. Oh, my dear child!' He bent his handsome old head gruffly to kiss her cheek, exclaiming again, 'To think you've been so near and I didn't know!'
Gina, drawing back apprehensively, could only feel relieved that he didn't try to hold her any closer. She found it almost impossible to believe that this distinguished, immaculately dressed man could be her grandfather. Staring at him nervously, she wasn't at all sure she wanted to believe it. Vaguely she was conscious that it might mean change, leaving Briarly and Quentin. And while it was one thing to decide she would leave, each time she quarrelled with him, it was quite another to have to actually do it. Again, her eyes full of desperate, silent appeal, she looked to him for help.
Charles Hearn's face was filled with intense excitement, but Quentin's was deathly pale. He was staring at Gina as if he understood her confusion but wasn't sure what to do about it. She heard his harshly drawn breath. 'I think it might be a good idea, Charles, if you began at the beginning and explained to Gina what this is all about. You can't expect her to be anything but bewildered until you do.'
'Of course, of course, what a fool I am!' Sir Charles cleared his throat. 'I should have thought of that, I'm going far too fast for her,' he exclaimed, as Quentin guided them stiffly to a nearby sofa.
Surely, Gina pondered silently petrified, if this had been true my father would have told me?
Quentin withdrew, announcing that he would get them all a drink, grimly ignoring the hand Gina held helplessly out to him, while Sir Charles never took his eyes off her face.
'You won't believe it,' he smiled, as Gina brought her reluctant attention back to him, 'that for years you've never been far from my thoughts, but now that I've found you I don't know where to start.' Then he sobered, and into her amazed ears poured what seemed to her a tragic and wholly regrettable story.
It appeared her real name was Sinton, not Foster. Her father had been Leo John Sinton, and he had married Gina's mother, Sir Charles's only child, when he was struggling in his first years after medical school.
'I didn't object to them marrying, but Virginia was so young, I begged them to wait. Unfortunately your father decided it was because I didn't think he was good enough for my daughter and he never forgave me.' Sir Charles sighed. 'He was a good surgeon, but because of our quarrel he became very bitter. He seemed determined that one day he would be wealthier than me, and drove himself beyond normal limits. Eventually, however, because of being overtired, he made a fatal mistake. A child died and he never forgave himself; he vowed he would never operate again.'
'That's why he came here?' Gina asked.
'It must have been, but he didn't come here until after your mother died. Things became so bad in London that she decided to go and stay for a few weeks with some friends in Mexico. You were only a baby and I fully expected she had taken you with her. When her plane crashed and she was killed I thought you had died too.' Charles paused, his face creased with remembered pain. 'I checked, but at the best of times in that huge country it's difficult to get accurate information. It was a shock, two years later, I can tell you, to meet your father carrying you down Oxford Street.'
'What did you do?' Gina was enthralled, in spite of herself, at last beginning to feel the story had something to do with herself.
'I immediately offered to take you, but he wouldn't he
ar of it, and I couldn't think of any way I might force him to hand you over, as grandparents have few legal rights, I'm afraid. I sensed, fortunately, that he was short of money and between us we reached some sort of agreement. It was crazy, in the middle of a London street, but I daren't let him out of my sight. I persuaded your father to accept a monthly allowance, ostensibly for you, and in return he promised to arrange that I should be told if ever anything happened to him. It seemed the best I could do,' Charles sighed, 'but every day since then has been an anxious one.
'Fortunately, though, he honoured his word. Unfortunately, however, the solicitor with whom he drew up this agreement was away when your father died, or I should have known sooner. You can guess the shock I received when I realised you'd been living so near me all the time. He always threatened, you see, that if I ever tried to contact you he would make sure I never saw you again. But it's difficult to believe he never mentioned me to you, Gina, or said anything to you about your mother.'
'No,' quite stunned now by these revelations, Gina shook her head, 'he told me nothing, but Mr Hurst, Quentin's father, did tell me my father had been a well known surgeon. I wondered why he had told me, at the time. He seemed rather worried about it. Perhaps he hoped to force John into telling me the truth?'
Quentin, as if unable to contain himself, broke in savagely, 'I can't understand why my father never mentioned this to anyone else.'
'Leo probably swore him to silence, we'll never know,' Charles sighed. 'Remember, Quentin, your father was growing very absentminded. He was absorbed with his wild life and horses. Most of the time he probably didn't even remember Leo was there.'
'So you'll be taking Gina away from us?' Mrs Hurst said regretfully.
'I hope so,' Charles replied dryly, adding almost angrily, 'You can't expect me to leave my only grandchild, my heir, here, to continue working as a servant, Lydia? I shall take her at once, and if what she's wearing is a sample of the clothes she owns, I won't even wait for her to pack. She can leave the rest behind and get rid of what she has on, as soon as we find something else.'
Gina felt the nerves of her stomach tighten with apprehension. Suddenly she felt terribly afraid. She didn't doubt Sir Charles had been telling her the truth, but he was still a stranger. How could they expect her to get up and just walk away with him? Tearfully she stared at Quentin, but this time he made no attempt to come to her aid. He simply stared back at her stonily, with what was suspiciously like indifference in his eyes.
Wounded terribly by his lack of understanding, she turned, as a desperate resort, to Mrs Hurst. 'Shouldn't I wait until you find someone to replace me? You've been so kind to me, I can't let you down.'
'No, dear,' gratified, Mrs Hurst smiled, 'you must go with your grandfather, I'm afraid. Your story has quite taken my breath away and I'm going to miss you, but he won't ever forgive me if I try to keep you. You can always come back to see us, you know,' she added rather anxiously, as Gina's face grew whiter.
Gina didn't listen. Distraught, she lost control and, without looking at her grandfather, hurled herself tearfully into Quentin's arms. 'I don't want to go, you have to save me! I belong to you,' she cried wildly.
'Don't be such a little fool, Gina. Pull yourself together.' His arms closed about her shaking body, momentarily she felt his hands gripping her trembling flesh, but not tenderly, and his angry breath thickening on her face. 'There's nothing here for you now.'
'So you keep telling me.'
'Then behave yourself!'
His hands still gripped her and she saw his face was grey as he stared down at her. 'I love you, Quentin,' she whispered, 'but you don't want me.'
'For heaven's sake, Gina, must you dramatise everything?' He sounded as though he couldn't take much more. 'Of course we want you,' he said curtly, 'but your place isn't here any more.'
While he still held her, he was fed up, she could tell. Fed up and indifferent as to what was to happen to her. A sudden hate stiffening her backbone, she wrenched herself from his arms. 'One day, Quentin Hurst, I'll show you!' she cried passionately. Then, without another word, well aware she was acting unforgivably, she turned and almost ran from the room. She wasn't to know, as she left Quentin that day, that it would be a whole year before she saw him again.
In spite of what she owned had been a childish display of temper, she hadn't wanted to leave Briarly. She had felt, irrationally, that she ought to have been given time to think it over. Sir Charles might have been an old family friend with an impeccable reputation, but it seemed to Gina that Quentin had got rid of her as quickly as he could. He was glad to see the last of her. The expression on his face as they had left had been grim, expressing not one flicker of regret.
While other girls might have been filled with elation at the prospect of such a brilliant future, all she could think of was Quentin and the way he had treated her, especially since her father died. Most of the time she might have been dirt under his feet. One day, she vowed bitterly, if she ever got the chance, she would treat him like dirt under hers!
Trying desperately to stop trembling, she had sat silently beside her grandfather in his beautiful Rolls. They had driven quickly away from Briarly, after he had exchanged a last private word with Quentin, with whom, she was surprised to see, he was still on the best of terms. She regretted, along with everything else, not having been given the opportunity of saying goodbye to Mrs Worth and the girls. She had even felt terrible over Matthews and kept recalling the startled look on his usually bland features as he had watched her departure.
Charles Hearn, being a man of rare understanding, didn't say very much until they reached the beautiful old period house where he lived. Quietly, after introducing Gina to his housekeeper, he ushered her into the drawing-room, a room just as magnificent as anything at Briarly. The housekeeper retired, saying she would bring them tea.
As they sat down, Charles said gently, with a sympathetic glance at her distressed young face, 'I realise this has been almost too much for you, dear, but you have absolutely nothing to fear. I know you feel it's all happened too quickly, but perhaps it's the best way. However, you must take your time, look on me as a new friend, if you like. Then you might learn to love me. But, whatever happens, I don't want you worrying about anything. Try to trust us, then I'm sure you'll begin to feel better.'
'Us?' Gina gazed at him nervously.
'My sister and I,' he smiled kindly. 'I expect she must be your great-aunt. I've decided it might be a good idea if we left immediately for London. I have another house there and your aunt lives with me. She always prefers London to the country, but then she's younger than I am—still in her fifties, a positive bundle of energy. If I know Liza she'll soon have you fixed up with everything you need. Then I think we'll travel—the three of us. How would you like that?' he asked with gentle eagerness. 'I've relations and friends all over the world. I love to travel, and I'm sure you will, once you've tried it. It will finish your education and help you to forget the past, and Briarly.'
CHAPTER FIVE
GINA, knowing Sir Charles was trying to give her time to adjust as much as anything else, didn't take what he was telling her too seriously. He was talking to her like a man walking extremely cautiously over thin ice. He was setting up pictures of a wonderful future as if intent on counteracting any possible side effects of shock, but at the moment all she longed for was complete assurance that Sir Charles really was her grandfather. Both he and Quentin had appeared to take it for granted that she would immediately believe it, but she had to have more proof. Instead of finding it easier to believe, as full realisation began to hit her, it was becoming all the more difficult.
After Mrs Bexley had brought their tea and left, Gina looked at Charles Hearn anxiously. Bluntly she asked. 'How can you be sure you aren't making a mistake? How can you be certain I really am your granddaughter? You're being very kind, but wouldn't it be terrible for both of us if you discovered at some future date that I
wasn't the right girl?'
'But you are the right girl, Gina,' he smiled. Then his smile faded as he noticed the strained uncertainty of her expression. 'There's no doubt about it, child, as I've already told you. If it hadn't been true you can be sure Quentin Hurst would never have let you go. As it was I had a struggle, and I still can't decide whether the outcome pleased or angered him. However, as the facts were indisputable there was nothing he could do about it.'
So when it came to the crunch, Quentin had wanted to hang on to her. She might be impossible to replace—his mother's cheap slave. 'But how can he know anything about it?' she protested.
Charles glanced at her dryly. 'The two of us, Quentin and I, haven't spent most of the last few days with our respective lawyers for nothing. If there had been one loophole, one shred of doubt, we should have found it. Quentin went through everything with a fine tooth-comb, making absolutely sure we are related.'
'That I wasn't an impostor, more like it!' Gina retorted bitterly. He had called her plenty of awful things, what would be one more?
Charles said very soberly, 'I didn't stop to wonder whether it was on your behalf or mine, but I'm sure you have the wrong impression. I do know I shouldn't like to have him working against me. It wasn't until every detail was checked out that he gave me permission to approach you.'
Gina was startled, and indignant. 'You really had to ask for that?'
'Well, he seemed to have set himself up as your guardian, young lady, or at least as a man guarding your interests.'
'His mother's, no doubt,' she said shortly, then, somewhat irrelevantly, 'I believe he's thinking of marrying Blanche Edgar. Do you know her?'
Charles nodded, slightly confused. 'Yes. Is it definite?'
'Well…'
'Gina,' he chided gently, his eyes shrewd on her slightly flushed face, 'I think it might be better if you forgot Quentin Hurst and Briarly for a while. When we come back you might like him better. I can only say that, as a man, I have an enormous respect for him, and he's been a great help in restoring you to me. As for marrying Blanche Edgar—well, I'll believe it when I see it. I think he enjoys his freedom too much to give it up for any woman.'
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