Her misery was made worse knowing that in a matter of minutes she'd also put paid to any relationship between Richard and herself.
It had felt so right in his arms. Too right, in fact. That was why she'd panicked before it had gone any further.
She was carrying a secret that he knew nothing about and she'd had to have an answer to at least one question.
But where had been the tact! No leading up to it diplomatically after gentle probing. She'd jumped in like a prize fool and been well and truly put in her place.
The best thing now would be for her to go back to London. Put Richard and Amelia out of her mind and write off the episode as just another blank wall.
Yet she loved the job. She enjoyed working with Marjorie and was feeling fitter than she'd done in a long time. She knew she wanted to stay.
Tomorrow she would tell Richard about what had been driving her on for the past eleven years and maybe he would understand. If he didn't she would have to think again.
'Would you cover for me for an hour?' she asked Matron the next morning. 'I want to call in at the surgery for a prescription. My chest feels a bit tight and my GP back home has warned me not to let anything develop in that area.'
'Of course,' Marjorie said immediately. 'Richard will sort you out.'
'Yes, I'm sure he will,' she agreed, with the various interpretations of the comment in mind. The most likely one being that he would send her packing.
'Can I be registered as a new patient?' she asked a receptionist at the village practice, and before the woman could answer Garth Thompson's voice butted in from behind.
'Certainly, Freya. Delighted to have you on our lists.' He added, and turning to the receptionist, 'Sister Farnham is employed at Marchmont School.'
'I can speak for myself,' she told him with a vision of being wafted into his consulting room instead of Richard's. 'Once I've given you my particulars I'd like an appointment with Dr Haslett, please.'
He must have heard her voice as the man who'd never been out of her thoughts since the night before materialised at that moment and stood eyeing her from the doorway of his room.
'Did I hear you say you've come to see me?' he asked in a flat tone that did nothing to cheer her up.
'Yes. If you can spare the time.'
It would be all she needed if he was going to refuse to see her in front of the receptionist and cocky Dr Thompson, she thought, but thankfully he was beckoning for her to enter and once the door was closed behind her he pointed to the seat at the other side of his desk and waited.
Freya took a deep breath.
'I've come to apologise for last night, Richard,' she said in a low voice. 'The last thing I wanted was to cause more pain in your life, but I had to ask.
'I had a child when I was sixteen. My father, who was hard and unfeeling, made me give her up for adoption. Once I'd signed the papers I ran away after the birth and spent some time sleeping rough, rather than go back home.'
Her voice was calm and emotionless as if it was all of no consequence. It was his respect she wanted, not his pity.
'My father tracked me down eventually and sent me back to boarding school to finish my education. Once I was free of him I severed all ties, changed my name from Caroline to Freya and dropped the Carter in favour of Farnham, my mother's maiden name.
'The only thing I was ever told regarding my little girl was that she'd been adopted by a couple from the Midlands. When my friend Poppy, who is Alice's mother, told me she'd seen a child at Marchmont School who looked like me...I had to come and see for myself. Do you understand?'
Richard was rigid with shock. The woman sitting opposite was Amelia's natural mother, not some aunt or cousin twice removed.
She was asking if he understood. Yes, he did. He understood that she was playing down her suffering. Freya was no weakling and his heart ached for her. But where did it leave him in this awful mess?
If he told her the truth, there was no way she was going to walk away from her child. A child who was now motherless. Who at this time in her life would see the true story of her parentage as a betrayal on his and Jenny's part.
He was going to take the easy way out by saying nothing further to plague his conscience, he thought grimly. He felt guilty enough already.
'Yes. I suppose I do understand,' he said levelly, 'and I'm happy for you to stay at Marchmont just as long as you don't do or say anything to upset Amelia.'
'I'm not sure whether I want to stay now,' she told him. 'My purpose for being here has gone, but I do like the job.'
She could have told him that there was another reason why she might stay on and it was connected with him. But it was hardly the right moment for that.
It was sufficient for her to know that he'd understood what had driven her to say what she had and for him to be aware that she'd accepted his explanation regarding Amelia's beginnings.
She was getting to her feet and Richard felt that he couldn't let her go without emphasising what he'd already said. He was choking with guilt. Deceit was foreign to his nature, but nothing was going to change his mind.
Amelia came first. Freya and he were mature adults, old enough to handle their emotions. Amelia wasn't. And until she was, her natural mother would have to be kept in the dark and he would have to live with lies.
Yet he knew he didn't want Freya to go back to London. If she stayed on at Marchmont, she would be near her daughter. Unknowingly maybe, but still in a position where they could get to know each other. And he wanted her around for another reason.
It was a catastrophic situation and yet he wanted the cool enigma that was Freya Farnham to be there for him, too.
She was brave and gutsy and when she'd told him her sad story there had been a sort of controlled dignity about her that had made his insides clench.
He'd scanned Amelia's face that morning while they'd been having breakfast and he'd seen the amazing likeness that had never registered with him before. Yet there'd been no reason why it should. The last thing he would have ever expected was to find Amelia's natural mother existing on the sidelines of their lives.
'I'd be happy if you decided to stay,' he repeated awkwardly. 'I went too far last night and I'm sorry. My excuse is that your question was a bolt from the blue and after losing Jenny I'm afraid I'm very touchy about anything that concerns my family. I know that Amelia likes you, though she's reluctant to show it, and as long as you can promise me that you'll never mention to her what you said to me last night, I can live with us all being in the same community.'
Arid if that doesn't sound condescending, I don't know what does, he thought bleakly.
'I'll have to give it some thought,' she told him. 'Thanks for listening to me. I feel better now that we've cleared the air.'
'Yes, sure,' he agreed, trying to sound casual when all the time he was telling himself that he should be persuading her to go. It would be simpler if she did.
But he couldn't do that to her, could he? He could lie for Amelia's sake, but he couldn't just let Freya go back to London with all her hopes dashed when she could be in the proximity of her daughter.
His smile was tight as he thought how her name had thrown him last night, but now it was all fitting in like pieces of a jigsaw. They'd known it had been a sixteen-year-old girl who'd wanted to give her baby up for adoption, but he and Jenny hadn't been aware that she'd been pressured by an unsympathetic parent. And they had been so desperate for a child. After damaging her uterus in a riding accident when she was young, Jenny had been unable to have children.
The baby had come to them via a London hospital so that fitted in...and there was the resemblance. The eyes that were so alike and the fine-boned features. Admittedly Freya's hair was brown while Amelia's was corn gold, but they both had the same fair skin. As if she read his mind, Freya said wryly, 'I suppose I can wash the brown out of my hair now.'
As his eyes widened she actually managed a laugh. 'I put a rinse on it until I was sure. My hair is virtually th
e same colour as your daughter's.'
'Ah. I see.'
He wished he did. At the moment nothing was clear except that his life was getting more complicated by the minute.
By the time she got back to the school Freya had almost decided to stay, at least for the time being. Because if she hadn't found her long lost daughter she might have found someone else...a man she could learn to care for.
If there was a chance that he might feel the same, she would be prepared to wait until he was ready. There was no way that she was going to upset Amelia, especially as she'd been the one to assure her that day in the school grounds that her father had no intention of remarrying.
Anita called to her as she was walking past the school secretary's office, and she was still living up to her name as she said coldly, 'I've been looking for you, Sister Farnham.'
'I've been to the surgery to see Dr Haslett,' Freya told her blandly.
'Really?'
'Yes. I've been to get a prescription.'
Anita's mouth tightened. 'There's no need for that. If any of the girls require a prescription, I can pick it up on my way home at lunchtime, or Richard will drop it off himself.'
'It was for myself.'
'Oh, I see. So are you not well?'
'I'm fine, thank you.'
The school secretary bridled. 'I can see that you don't want to discuss it.'
'Correct,' Freya told her calmly.
She had to hold back a smile when Anita said snappily, 'What have you been saying to Amelia?'
'About what?'
'Telling her that Richard isn't going to get married again. She was most stroppy when they visited me the other night. You haven't been here five minutes and you're meddling in our affairs!'
'I only repeated what her father had said to me,' Freya told her with a mildness that seemed to increase the other woman's annoyance.
'Richard said that to you!' Anita exclaimed contemptuously. 'I don't believe it.'
'That's up to you,' Freya told her, and went on her way.
Alice was back in the dormitory. Her temperature was down and the sore throat had disappeared. She had the sniffles but that was all, and next time her mother phoned they would be able to tell Poppy that all was well with her daughter.
It wasn't the case with her friend, though, Freya thought as the day progressed. Poppy would be upset when she heard that Amelia wasn't her daughter.
After the previous night's upset, her main concern had been to put things right with Richard. Now that they'd agreed to an uneasy truce, the disappointment of yet another dead end presenting itself was making her want to run away and hide.
But she had a job to do, and as a reminder of that one of the teachers who lived on the school premises during term time called into the sanatorium in the late afternoon to ask if Freya would examine his ears as he was having trouble hearing.
'They need syringing,' she told the elderly mathematics teacher. 'I'll do it for you if you like, or would you rather see Dr Haslett at the surgery?'
'Here would be best,' he told her. 'It will save time and it's imperative that I get it sorted so that I can hear what my pupils say.'
He was a wily old man with a fine crop of white hair and there was a twinkle in his eyes as he went on to say, 'Some of 'em have a lot to say about everything and there's much of it that I don't want to hear.'
When she'd finished he smiled.
'That's fine, Sister. I can even hear the clock ticking.'
As he was putting his jacket back on he said, 'Settling in all right, are you?'
'Yes, thanks.'
It wasn't exactly true but she didn't intend telling him that 'settled' was hardly the word to describe her present state of mind. Her conversation with Richard earlier in the day was proof enough of that, but if she went back to London, where did she go from there? Back to moping around the apartment? Wondering what to do next? Or taking up where she'd left off in the hospital and risking her health again?
The biggest question that she had to find an answer for was did she want to give up on Richard Haslett? She was half in love with the man already, attracted to everything about him—his cool authority, his moral values, his protective love for his daughter. And added to those things was his physical attractiveness.
He moved with the lithe grace of a man who didn't carry a spare ounce of flesh. His skin was still tanned from the summer sun. And when he'd held her in his arms for those brief magical moments last night she'd been spellbound.
As far as she was concerned, the chemistry between them had been like a tender shoot springing up out of shadows, but because of the search that governed her life she'd trampled it underfoot.
Surprisingly, after his rage of the night before, Richard hadn't wanted her to leave Marchmont, but had made it clear that it was only because Amelia liked her.
So, was she going to stay on for the time being? There was nothing else going on in her life and, if she'd blown her chances of getting to know him better, it wouldn't be the first time that the darker side of her life had blotted out the sun.
To her surprise, he rang late that evening, and when she heard his voice Freya felt her palms go moist.
'Is that you, Freya?' he asked when she answered.
'Yes, Richard. What can I do for you?'
'Have you given any further thought to what we discussed this morning?'
Was he joking! She'd thought of nothing else.
'Yes. I have.'
'And?'
'I've decided to stay on. You can rely on me to put all my vain imaginings with regard to Amelia out of my mind. Does that satisfy you?'
'Yes. It does,' he said guardedly.
She felt like yelling at him, Don't jump for joy! What more do you want me to promise? That I'll also put my lascivious intentions towards yourself on a back burner?
But having no wish to complicate matters further, she merely said, 'Good. Then we'll carry on as before.'
She heard him sigh and wished she'd phrased the remark differently.
'Not exactly as before, I'm afraid,' he reminded her, 'but I'm sure that we'll find some level of understanding.'
'No doubt,' she replied with a feeling that she'd just been reprimanded, and replaced the receiver before he could depress her further.
So that's that, Richard thought as he went slowly upstairs to the lonely double bed that had never seemed less inviting than tonight.
He'd created a situation that could only lead to misery for both of them. How could he behave naturally with Freya after what he'd done? The woman had been searching for her child for years and now that she'd found her he was denying her the joy that she deserved.
It was a no-win state of affairs, but his determination to protect Amelia hadn't wavered. She was still being difficult and unpredictable and there was a lost look about her that tore at his heart. It wasn't the time to tell her that she was adopted and that 'Sister Farnham' was her mother and, if the woman in question really cared about her child, he hoped that she would understand if ever she discovered his deceit.
In the meantime he was going to have to make the best of it by doing what he thought was right for the three of them. Freya, Amelia...and himself.
As the days passed the Cotswolds were touched by the icy fingers of winter. Crisp mornings and chilly nights were a reminder that Christmas was on its way, and Freya found that she was facing up to the thought with little enthusiasm.
The school would be closing for two weeks over the holiday and she would be going home to spend it amongst the bright lights of London, which should have been a cheering thought, but for once it wasn't.
Ever since that night at Richard's house she'd felt restless and frustrated, but was keeping her gloom well under wraps.
For one thing, she knew that it would please Anita to know that she was miserable. She sensed that the other woman saw her as a threat where Richard was concerned, which might have been so once, but not anymore.
She and Richard we
re pleasantly polite with each other when their duties regarding Marchmont brought them together, but rarely met socially. There was something in his manner that puzzled her. He was wary of her, she thought. Had her labelled as a troublemaker. But if so, why had he been keen for her to stay? It had been almost as if he was trying to make up for her disappointment.
Her relationship with Amelia was progressing more favourably. She had become friends with Alice and seemed a lot happier when the two of them were together.
They sometimes called in to see her at the sanatorium in the lunch-hour and on one occasion Freya asked them if they'd like to go shopping with her in nearby Cheltenham on the coming Saturday.
'Yes!' they'd chorused.
'I want to get my dad something for Christmas,' Amelia said.
And Alice had chirped, 'And I want to buy myself a new top for the Christmas disco. Mum and Dad have sent me some money.'
'Right, then,' she'd agreed. 'But first of all you must make sure that your dad approves, Amelia.'
The eyes so like her own had observed her in surprise.
'Why shouldn't he, Sister Farnham? My dad thinks you're great. The best nurse there's ever been at Marchmont.'
'Really?' she questioned.
It sounded like his daughter's imagination putting words into Richard's mouth.
'Well, ask him and let me know what he says, Amelia,' she told her.
The following day Freya saw Richard chatting to Anita in the school corridor, and as she approached he was saying smoothly, 'It's very kind of you to invite us, Anita, but I'm not all that sure what we'll be doing over Christmas. Would you mind if I left it for a while before giving you an answer?'
'Yes, of course,' Anita replied with cloying sweetness. 'There's plenty of time.'
Anita's good humour dwindled somewhat when Freya drew level with them and it disappeared altogether when Richard said, 'Ah, Freya, I was on my way to see you. That will be fine for Saturday. I'll drive the three of you into the town if you like as I've some shopping of my own to do.'
The Nurse's Child Page 6