‘By the time he died,’ Rafe went on flatly, ‘I’d put so much capital into it that the whole kit and caboodle virtually belonged to me anyway.’
She had no doubt at all that he spoke the truth.
CHAPTER TEN
DEVASTATED by the realisation that she had been misjudging him all this time, she stared at him in stricken silence.
Seeing that devastation, Rafe bit back his anger and asked, ‘Did Fiona say anything else?’
‘That you and she would have been married by then and there wouldn’t have been a problem if she hadn’t been diagnosed with a rare blood disorder…’
‘Go on,’ Rafe urged.
The scene still engraved on her mind, Madeleine could clearly remember every word. ‘She said, ‘I’ve had to spend long periods in a private clinic, undergoing treatment, which meant Rafe was left alone, and as I say, he’s a red-blooded man who needs a woman. Any woman… Then I discovered I was pregnant, which made this last treatment more prolonged and complicated, and in the end I lost the baby.’
A white line around his mouth, Rafe said grimly, ‘And you believed that baby was mine?’
‘W-well…y-yes,’ she stammered. All the shock and distress she had felt evident in her voice, she went on, ‘I was horrified to think that we’d been lovers while your fiancée went through such an ordeal…’
Sounding incredulous, he demanded, ‘You really believed I could treat both her and you so shabbily?’
‘I’m sorry…’ The words tailed off at the fury on his face.
With a kind of raging calm, he said, ‘Fiona was not my fiancée and the baby certainly wasn’t mine. It couldn’t possibly have been mine. There was never anything between us…’
Then what had made Fiona tell her such a tissue of lies? Madeleine wondered, but before she could ask, Rafe went on, ‘Or perhaps I should say there was never anything on my part. I always thought of her, and treated her, as a much-loved sister.
‘Unfortunately she developed a crush on me. I thought that when I went away to university it would die a natural death. But it didn’t.
‘When I made it clear that there could never be anything between us, that I just regarded her as a sister, she went completely off the rails and had relationships with several different men. Presumably one of them was the father…’ He sighed in frustration.
‘I’m sorry…sorry I blamed you…’ Helplessly, she added, ‘I didn’t want to believe you could treat a sick woman in that way…’
Then, seeing the expression on his face, ‘Or are you going to tell me she hadn’t been ill, that that was a lie too?’
‘The story about the blood disorder was a lie. But she had been ill…if you can call alcohol and drug dependency being ill. The clinics she was in and out of were alcohol-and drug-rehabilitation centres.’ Madeleine gasped at his words.
Rafe went on, ‘She got in with the wrong crowd, and before any of us realised she was hooked on drugs. It was an absolute nightmare. Each time she left some clinic and came home, we hoped and prayed she was cured. But each time she slipped back into her old ways. Then when her parents tried to get her to go in again for more treatment there’d be terrible scenes.
‘For more than eighteen months Christopher was ill and frail, and even before he died Harriet couldn’t cope, so it was up to me to take Fiona back and try to get her settled…’
So that was what Diane had meant when she said, ‘The whole family were worried sick about her, though Rafe bore the brunt of it.’
‘Do you remember the day I was supposed to pick you up to take you to see the Jonathan Cass pictures, and I couldn’t make it?’ he pursued.
‘Yes, I remember. I’d been worried to death in case anything had happened to you. But you were in a strange mood. Though you must have known I wanted some kind of explanation, you wouldn’t give me one.’
‘Couldn’t, rather than wouldn’t.
‘That morning I took Fiona back to the Tyler Rhodes Clinic and tried to get her settled in. At first she seemed calm enough, but after I told her I had to leave she became hysterical and violent.
‘I couldn’t just abandon her. I felt guilty and partly responsible. If I’d been able to love her in the way she wanted me to, things might have been different. Or if I hadn’t gone to live with them in the first place…
‘When I tried to call your flat to say I’d be late, she snatched the mobile out of my hand and threw it at the wall. Then after a bitter tirade she ran her nails down my face…’
So that was where the scratches had come from.
‘It seems that somehow she’d found out about you, and was out of her mind with jealousy. I won’t go into details, but that was one of the worst afternoons of my life.’
Feeling ashamed and sorry that she hadn’t been more loving and supportive, Madeleine said, ‘I wish you’d told me.’
‘At the time I felt I couldn’t. Though in retrospect I wish I had.’
‘If only I’d known the truth I wouldn’t have believed Fiona, wouldn’t have presumed you’d just been using me and…’ Remembering what had happened next, she broke off.
‘Sent that email to get your own back?’ he suggested bleakly.
‘No, not to get my own back.’
His voice rough with anger and frustration, he asked, ‘Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you tell me what Fiona had said? Why, when I came to see what the hell was going on, did you stage that scene with Noel?’
‘To save my pride,’ she admitted.
‘Despite the email, it came as a shock. I could hardly believe my eyes. It made me furiously angry and jealous… Even after Eve told me that you and Noel were like brother and sister, I was—’
‘When did she tell you that?’ Madeleine broke in.
‘When I went to see her at the clinic.’
‘What made you go?’ Madeleine’s voice was soft as she asked the one question that was really important.
‘Because of a remark Fiona had made when Harriet mentioned you were coming home, she was convinced that it had been her daughter who was somehow responsible for our break-up. Remembering Noel, I could hardly believe it. But I decided to get to the bottom of things, so I rang Fiona and tackled her about it.
‘Though she didn’t tell me a fraction of what had been said, she admitted going to see you, admitted that she had claimed to be my fiancée. She said she was bitterly sorry, that she would have confessed sooner if she’d had the nerve.
‘After talking to Fiona, I began to wonder about the rest, so I went to see Eve. I presumed she would know the score if anyone did… At first she was distinctly hostile, but when she heard the truth about Fiona things got easier.
‘After I’d laid my cards on the table, she opened up and gave me all the information I needed. Including the fact that she was hoping to find a live-in position for you.
‘When I told her that Harriet needed a live-in physiotherapist, and was staying with me at the hall, she agreed to help…’
Sighing, he admitted, ‘But when I got you there, I didn’t handle it very well. In fact that’s the understatement of the year. I’ve been an absolute swine to you. I can’t blame you for wanting to go, but I’m hoping you’ll stay.’
Madeleine took a deep breath. ‘There’s something I’d like to ask you.’
‘Ask away.’
‘It’s about Fiona. Diane said she was doing fine, that she’d been given a clean bill of health…’
‘That right.’
‘But I couldn’t help but wonder where she was, what had happened to her…’
‘A few weeks after she had been given that clean bill of health she married George Rampling’s younger son, Mark, and they went to live in Edinburgh.
‘A month ago their little boy was born. No two parents could have been happier, and Harriet and George were absolutely over the moon…’
Dazzled by the light, Madeleine said, ‘So that’s who they’ve gone up to Scotland to spend Christmas and New Year with.�
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‘That’s right.’
Watching her face, Rafe asked, ‘Does knowing that make it any easier for you to stay? At least for tonight.’
‘If I do stay—’
‘It will be on your terms,’ he broke in quickly. ‘I promise I won’t try to bulldoze you in any way, and it will give you a chance to think things over. What do you say?’
‘Very well,’ she said and saw the flicker of relief he couldn’t hide.
Getting to her feet, she stifled a yawn. ‘I’d like to go to bed.’
‘Alone?’ he queried.
‘Alone.’
Rising, he lifted her hand to his lips. ‘Then I’ll say goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’ She picked up her boots and went.
Rafe had suggested that staying over would provide a chance to think, but, as though both her brain and body had shut down, she felt completely drained and weary, too tired to think.
She changed into her night things like some zombie, and slept as soon as her head touched the pillow.
When she surfaced the next morning, the clock said almost ten-thirty. It was, she realised, Christmas Eve, and decision time.
Before she could begin to think, however, there was a tap at the door, and a second later Rafe’s voice queried, ‘Ready for some toast and coffee?’
Her heart gave a little leap. Thinking how careful he was being, how circumspect, as though it mattered to him, she sat up and answered, ‘Please.’
He offloaded a pot of coffee and a jug of warm milk before settling the tray across her knees.
On it, as well as toast, butter and marmalade, was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a perfect hothouse rosebud, its dark red, velvety petals gloriously scented.
The fact that he’d gone to so much trouble touched her heart.
‘I was planning to have lunch at the Denaught and fly back to Hethersage Hall this afternoon,’ he told her. ‘Will you come and spend Christmas there? Simply as a guest.’
When she didn’t immediately answer, he suggested, ‘Give it some thought while you eat your breakfast.’ He turned away, and a moment later the door had closed quietly behind him.
She fought down an urge to call him back.
Having decided he’d made a mistake by bulldozing her, he was being cautious, giving her time, breathing space. She should value that, rather than doing anything impulsive.
While she buttered and ate a slice of toast and drank a cup of coffee, she tried to follow Rafe’s suggestion and think.
Though she bitterly regretted not trusting him and ruining what they might have had, common sense told her that it was no use repining. Nothing could be altered. All she could do was put the past behind her and move forward.
So was she prepared to stay and give him what he wanted? While she loved him, could she cope with knowing he didn’t love her?
But she didn’t have to make up her mind about that straight away. Spending Christmas at the hall would give her time to think, to decide.
Setting the tray aside, she got out of bed and showered and dressed in record time. Then, putting the rose, the stem of which she’d wrapped in dampened cotton-wool wipes, into her shoulder-bag, she picked up her coat and the case with its precious jewellery, and went through to the living room.
Rafe was standing by the French windows with his back to the room, staring out over the snowy patio. His whole body looked taut, and she could see the tension in his neck and shoulders.
When he turned round slowly and looked at her, she went over to him and handed him the jewel case.
‘Does that mean you’ve decided not to come?’
‘No…I…I haven’t really decided.’
She saw the flare of hope, before a shutter came down and he asked levelly, ‘So the question is, yes or no?’
‘You said simply as a guest?’
His eyes on her face, he agreed, ‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll come.’
His little sigh was audible. ‘In that case I’ll ask them to bring the car round, and let Jack know roughly what time we’ll be back.’
Though there was bright sunshine and a sky of clear, Mediterranean blue, it was a bitterly cold day with a fresh covering of sparkling snow.
Apart from Rafe remarking that it was good flying weather, the drive to the Denaught was accomplished in silence.
After a brief discussion of the menu, and some recommendations on Rafe’s part, lunch too was a silent meal.
But where in the past their silences had been comfortable, companionable, now there was a tension between them that stretched like fine wire. Wire that Madeleine wanted to snap.
But she could think of nothing to say.
She was relieved when lunch was over and they were installed in the helicopter and underway. A lot less nervous this time, she would have enjoyed the flight if she hadn’t been worrying about the coming hours and days.
In the west the sun had gone down in a blaze of pink and gold, and a blue dusk was just starting to gather as they descended towards the cleared helicopter pad.
Wearing what appeared to be thigh-length rubber boots, Jack was just emerging from the hangar with a gleaming two-seater snowmobile.
When the rotor blades had almost stopped turning Rafe removed his headset and, jumping out, came round to help her out.
‘I’ve a few things to take care of, so Jack will run you back to the house.’
As soon as Madeleine was installed on the passenger seat, Jack handed her a blue helmet. ‘If you’d like to put this on, miss… It isn’t far, as you know, but I always say, you can’t be too careful.’
She thanked him and buckled the strap into place.
When they reached the house the door was opened by a young, round-faced woman with pale blue eyes and sandy hair, who ushered her inside.
‘Miss Knight…I’m Annie… I’ve lit a fire in your flat and left fresh bread and milk in the kitchen. If there’s anything else you need, you only have to ask.
‘Dinner’s at seven-thirty. In the meantime, if you’d like me to bring a nice pot of tea to the living room…?’
‘Thank you, Annie, but I think I’ll go straight up to the flat.’
As she crossed the hall and made her way upstairs, she felt an odd sense of coming home, as if the old house recognised her presence and welcomed her back.
There was a bright fire burning in the living-room grate, and when Madeleine had put the rose in water and made herself a pot of tea, instead of switching on the light she sat down in the fireglow.
Had she done the right thing in coming back to Hethersage Hall? she wondered. Or should she have been stronger and walked away?
But it was useless to hark back, and too soon to try and think ahead. She would just let go for the present and drift.
The comfort and warmth were soporific, and in spite of her good night’s sleep her eyelids gradually closed…
When she awoke, the fire was dying into whitish ash and it was dark apart from a mere glimmer of snowy light coming through the window.
She was just wondering how long she’d slept when the clock on the mantel chimed six-thirty. Time she was getting ready to go down to dinner.
Switching on the light, she went through to the bedroom to shower and change into a midnight-blue sheath, before re-coiling her hair and putting on fresh make-up.
Despite her attempts to stay calm, butterflies were dancing in her stomach as she made her way down to the study and opened the door.
The cosy room was lit by a single standard lamp, and for an instant she thought it was empty. Then she saw Rafe was already there, leaning against the mantel, flickering firelight turning his lean face into a changing mask of bronze and black.
She had the impression that he’d been standing there some time, staring blindly into space.
He glanced up as she came in, and for an instant his face looked taut and tired before a shutter came down and, assuming the role of polite host, he came forward to greet her.
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While they had a pre-dinner drink he made polite conversation, and though her heart ached that, having been so close, they should come to this, she followed his lead as best she could.
Though they both tried their hardest, dinner was another uncomfortable meal, and by the time they returned to the study for a nightcap in front of the fire, Madeleine was regretting coming and wondering how soon she could escape to bed.
The curtains hadn’t been pulled across the windows and through the diamond-leaded panes she could see that snow was falling.
Into the silence, she remarked, ‘It’s some time since we had a white Christmas.’
Rafe glanced up from pouring brandy into two goblets.
‘The Met Office forecast it.’
‘Yes. Noel said so when I was still in Boston.’
‘What made you decide to come back to England?’
‘When I heard Eve’s voice I knew I was homesick.’
‘You asked her opinion on whether or not you should marry Alan.’ It was a statement not a question.
Madeleine sighed. ‘Eve’s wise. She said the mere fact that I had to ask her opinion proved I didn’t love him enough. And of course she was quite right.’
Rafe’s eyes met and held hers, as he said quietly, ‘I had hoped at one time that you might love me…’
Feeling as though her chest was being constricted, she admitted, ‘I did.’
It was his turn to sigh. ‘If I’d asked you to marry me then, would you have done?’
She hesitated, before saying in a rush, ‘Yes, if I’d been sure you loved me.’
‘Oh, yes, I loved you. The instant I saw your face, it was like being socked on the jaw. Rocked back on my heels, I tried to tell myself that what I felt might just be lust, but even then I knew it was love.
‘I didn’t know you, didn’t know what went on inside your head, how your mind worked, what made you happy, what made you sad. I didn’t know you had a sense of humour, or that you liked children. I didn’t know you had courage and compassion, and not a nasty bone in your body. All I knew was that you were the woman I’d been waiting for. The woman I wanted to marry. I had planned to propose to you in Paris, to take you to the Rue de la Paix to choose a ring…’
Love Without Lies Page 16