by Penny Jordan
She could only presume now that he was deliberately keeping out of sight and her pride would not allow her to stay somewhere where she was so obviously unwanted—and so vulnerable.
He had been so willing to believe the worst of her—had wanted to believe it, she was convinced now. Perhaps he had engineered the whole situation simply to get back at her, had deliberately and callously set out to make her fall in love with him, while not caring the least about her at all. And then, when he had discovered he was her first lover, he had been too shocked to conceal his true feelings: his lack of desire to have any sort of permanent relationship with her. She would probably never know the whole truth—nor did she want to, she told herself firmly. It was over—for good.
* * *
She had to make several journeys to London with her things, her car being too small to transport them all in one go. If and when she sold the Dower House she would have to find somewhere to store her furniture—or get rid of it. Perhaps her uncle might agree to store some of it for her; he and her aunt had a massive Victorian riverside house with plenty of storage space.
Thinking of her uncle reminded Lucy that it was some time since she had seen him, and also that he had no idea of her new address.
Now that he was semi-retired he worked from home, so on the first day of her new life in London she set out to see him.
As always her aunt and uncle were delighted to see her, her aunt kissing her warmly and chiding her for leaving it so long between visits as she drew her into the house.
Margaret Summers clucked anxiously over Lucy’s pale face as she ushered her into the sunny room where her husband worked.
‘Look who’s here, Leo,’ she exclaimed as she opened the door.
‘Lucy—my dear.’
Leo Summers hugged his niece warmly, noticing as his wife had done that she looked far too fine-drawn and pale.
He had never truly taken to the man his beloved sister had married and it was his private opinion that as a father he had left much to be desired. Mind you, love and caring did not always produce a happy child, as he knew. Their own son Neville was a bitter disappointment to him; to both of them really, although Margaret always remained tremendously loyal to their only child. Perhaps if they had been able to have more as they had planned… As always when he thought about his son, his eyes clouded a little.
‘Come and tell us what you’re doing with yourself,’ Margaret insisted, correctly reading the look in her husband’s eyes.
‘Well I’ve left the Dower House and I’m working in London.’ As Lucy had anticipated this bombshell provoked an avalanche of questions.
‘I never agreed with the way your father expected you to take on the responsibility of Fanny and the children,’ Leo said when she had finished. ‘But Lucy, you’ve always loved the country so much. Why didn’t you come to us instead of finding a flat? You know we’d have loved to have you.’
‘I’m twenty-five years old,’ she reminded him wryly, ‘and it’s time I stood on my own two feet.’
‘Umm… Well at least I hope we’ll see a little more of you now. How about the book; how is it going?’
They talked about her work for half an hour while Margaret went to make some coffee. When she came back there were four cups on the tray instead of three and she looked slightly apprehensive.
‘It must be our day for visitors,’ she told her husband. ‘Neville has just arrived.’
Lucy didn’t miss the way her uncle’s face tightened at the mention of his son’s name, but before he could say anything Neville himself came sauntering into the room.
‘Well well, cousin Lucy,’ he drawled, eyeing her mockingly. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Your parents,’ she told him evenly, refusing to let him bait her. She knew quite well that he would still be angry with her over the sale of the Manor.
‘Lucy’s decided to move to London,’ his father told him.
‘Really?’ There was a distinct look of curiosity in his eyes as he studied her. ‘A sudden decision I take it?’
‘Not really. It’s something I’ve been thinking of for a while.’
‘And what will you do with the Dower House, when Saul sells?’ he asked her.
‘It isn’t decided yet that he will.’
‘No? It seems pretty conclusive to me. He’s gone back to America and according to that cleaning woman he employs he’s made no plans to come back. Fanny hasn’t seen or heard from him. He’s gone for good by the looks of it.’
Gone… Saul was gone.
The coffee cup she had just picked up seemed like a dead weight in her hands. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to cry out in protest that Saul wouldn’t leave without telling her, but everything seemed to be shifting out of focus around her; she tried to cry out and found that her vocal chords seemed to be paralysed. A strange roaring sound engulfed her, the blackness into which she was falling punctuated by her aunt’s sharp cry, and then nothing…
* * *
She came round to find she was lying on the chaise longue in her uncle’s study. There was no sign of Neville but her aunt and uncle were both hovering anxiously beside her.
‘Lucy, my dear, thank goodness. We were just about to send for the doctor. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine… I’m fine. There’s no need to send for anyone,’ Lucy protested, trying to sit up and finding weakly that she could not. ‘It was just a faint.’
‘Maybe… It is a warm day, and of course you must have been shocked to learn that Saul intends to sell the house without so much as discussing it with you, but my dear, you look so thin and fine-drawn… I really…’
Firmly Lucy brushed aside her aunt’s concern, assuring her that she was perfectly all right, and at last, although unwillingly, that lady gave in.
‘Very well, but I absolutely insist that you spend the night here at the very least.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ Quickly she explained about Pasha, her feline charge.
‘A Siamese! I’ve always loved them,’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘Well that’s no problem. He can stay as well.’
She wanted to protest, to insist that she was perfectly all right, but all at once it required too much effort. It would be lovely to stay here and be pampered by her aunt. Knowing she was being weak, but totally unable to stop herself, Lucy gave her uncle instructions as to how to find her flat, handing him the key while her aunt gave him instructions as to what Lucy and Pasha would need.
To tell the truth she hadn’t been feeling well for the past few days. Initially she had put her inertia and lack of desire to eat down to the fact that she was too wrought up over her quarrel with Saul, but as the days had gone by and her appetite had continued to desert her a heavy listlessness had seemed to envelop her.
It was delicious to simply lie back and be saved the necessity of making any decision, of doing anything other than be pampered. That alone told Lucy how seriously depleted her physical and emotional resources must be. Normally she was so independent and self-reliant. For some reason she felt acutely weepy, gladly accepting Margaret’s suggestion that she simply lie quietly in the cool of the study until her uncle got back.
In the event, what was to have been merely an overnight stay stretched into nearly a week, with Margaret resolutely stating that she was far from well enough to be living alone and Lucy weakly giving in and enjoying her aunt’s cosseting.
It was a long time since she had been so thoroughly spoiled, the calm atmosphere of the riverside house and the placidness of its two semi-elderly inhabitants having a beneficial effect on her over-stretched nerves.
If it wasn’t for the lassitude that continued to envelop her Lucy thought she might have felt more inclined to make a move back to her flat, but every time she said as much she found herself thoroughly overruled.
When she remarked to her uncle one morning that she felt very guilty for causing her aunt so much work, he replied with a twinkle in his eyes that M
argaret was enjoying keeping busy.
‘She looks on you as the daughter she never had, Lucy,’ he told her. ‘And as for that cat!’
If Lucy was enjoying the spoiling then so was Pasha. The Siamese had quickly discovered a devoted slave in Margaret, and one moreover who was willing to feed him on such delicacies as fresh salmon instead of the canned food which was his normal fare.
Every day he accompanied Margaret on her tour of her garden, padding delicately over the grass with a proudly disdainful air before returning to join Lucy in the study.
When it had become clear that her stay was going to be more than an overnight one, her uncle had returned to the flat to collect her papers and notebooks, and most afternoons Lucy made an attempt to get down to work, although an attempt was usually all it was.
This morning she had been ferociously nauseous after breakfast, for the second day running, and she was now lying outside in the garden, shaded by an umbrella, watching her aunt deadhead her roses.
As she eyed her aunt’s stooping back Lucy knew there was something that could not be put off any more.
When Margaret straightened and suggested, ‘Coffee?’ she held out her hand.
‘In a minute. There’s something I have to tell you first. I think I might be pregnant.’
She said it abruptly, wondering if her aunt would be as shocked as she had been when she first began to suspect the reason for her continued lassitude and sickness. She hated having to hurt her aunt with such an announcement but her own honesty forced her to admit it. She could not continue to remain under her uncle’s roof being pampered and indulged like a Victorian invalid when she was really nothing of the sort.
‘Yes, I suspected as much.’
The calm acceptance in her aunt’s voice made her lift startled brown eyes to Margaret’s placid blue ones.
‘You knew?’
‘I recognised the signs,’ Margaret told her wryly. ‘I suffered a very similar tiredness with Neville, and then again later with the one I lost.’
‘You must have wondered why I didn’t say anything, but until the other day it never occurred to me… That is…’
Her aunt sat down at her side, taking hold of her hand.
‘Lucy, you’re an adult woman, and the world has changed a good deal since I was a girl. Even so, I don’t see you as someone who would want to bring a child into the world outside marriage and with no father to help care for it.’
‘I’m not,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve behaved as irresponsibly as a teenager, never even giving a thought to the consequences. Worse than a teenager,’ she added wryly. ‘Nowadays I think they’re far more sensible than I’ve been.’
‘I take it that there’s no chance of you and the father…’ Margaret probed delicately, stopping when she saw the bright flash of tears in her niece’s eyes as she shook her head.
‘He knows nothing about this, Margaret, nor would he want to know. I thought he loved me, but I know now that he doesn’t; I’m on my own in this.’
‘No you’re not,’ Margaret told her gently, ‘you have your uncle and myself.’
Lucy gave her a watery smile.
‘That’s sweet of you, but I must leave now, Margaret, I can’t embarrass you and Uncle Leo by staying. There’s bound to be gossip.’
‘So what?’ The grey eyebrows arched faintly. ‘We might be getting on in years, Lucy, but we aren’t completely behind the times. An illegitimate baby these days is nothing and what gossip there is will quickly die down. You don’t think your uncle and I would let you live alone now, do you? No… you’re staying here.’
It was so unusual to hear her gentle aunt speaking so firmly that Lucy was silenced.
‘I take it that you intend to continue with the pregnancy?’
‘As opposed to an abortion? Yes.’ Right from the moment two days ago when she had realised she must be pregnant Lucy had known she would keep the child—Saul’s child. Already, despite her shock, the thought of the baby soothed the ache in her heart. Becoming pregnant was not something she would have chosen to do, but now that she was she discovered she was not as unhappy at the thought as she might have been.
‘You must see Dr Carter now,’ Margaret informed her. ‘I’ll give him a ring tomorrow and get him to come round.’
‘Margaret, before you make any plans I must tell Uncle Leo. He might not feel the same way as you do.’
‘He does,’ Margaret further stunned her by saying. ‘We’ve already discussed it, Lucy,’ she told her niece. ‘You see, almost from the start I suspected what might be wrong. Leo wants you and your baby here just as much as I do.’
She saw the glitter of tears darkening Lucy’s eyes and with a small murmur went to her and put her arms round her, wisely knowing that it was best to let her cry.
‘I promise you we won’t ask any questions,’ she said later when they were drinking their coffee, but Lucy shook her head firmly.
‘No… If I’m going to stay here with you, you should know the truth.’
It was at the back of her mind that since her pregnancy could not be kept a total secret it was inevitable that if her aunt and uncle did not know who the father was, they could quite innocently mention it to Fanny, from whom it might get back to Saul—always supposing he returned from the States—and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. If he learned about the child, Saul might feel he was under some sort of obligation towards it—and possibly to her—and she didn’t want that. If she couldn’t have his love, then she didn’t want anything from him.
Margaret listened silently as Lucy went briefly through what had happened, carefully editing Neville’s role in the affair.
‘He was so shocked to discover that he was my first lover that I knew then that he didn’t love me.’
‘Lucy, are you sure? You could be wrong. It seems to me that you almost deliberately encouraged him to believe the worst of you.’
‘But if he had loved me he wouldn’t have believed it, would he?’ she protested.
Margaret sighed. ‘Perhaps not, but human emotions are tricky things, my dear, and from what you’ve said to me it seems as though he would be bitterly resentful of any part Neville played in your life. People in love are notorious for not behaving in a logical fashion. Given the past, perhaps he was just testing you… hoping you would deny his accusations.’
Could her aunt be right? Lucy stamped firmly on the frail seed of hope burgeoning inside her. Saul had made no attempt to get in touch with her or show any interest in her at all since that fateful night. No, her aunt was wrong. He cared nothing about her at all.
That evening over dinner her uncle suggested that for the time being they keep the news of Lucy’s pregnancy to themselves.
‘Not because we’re ashamed or embarrassed, Lucy, but simply so that you’re not subject to unwanted questions. I suggest that, when the time comes, we’ll invent some fictitious father for the child, but we’ll think about that later.’
* * *
Later when Lucy was in bed and he and his wife were alone in the privacy of their own bedroom Margaret asked her husband anxiously, ‘Leo, what are we going to do? Lucy, poor child, looks worn to a thread. She loves him desperately, you know, and she’s far too proud to do anything about it.’
‘Yes I know, and she won’t thank us for any interference. I suppose old Patterson the solicitor would be the person most likely to have his American address? I’ll give him a ring in the morning.’
‘And if Lucy’s right and Saul doesn’t want her or the baby?’
‘Then his loss is our gain, isn’t it?’
* * *
‘Fanny’s on the phone for you,’ Margaret announced to Lucy a couple of days later. ‘She sounds very excited.’
Dr Carter had confirmed that Lucy was indeed pregnant, and although the nausea continued her exhaustion seemed to be lifting. She went into the study to pick up the receiver.
‘Lucy, you’ll never guess… I’m getting ma
rried again!’ The excitement faded from the bubbly light voice as Fanny quite obviously remembered that her deceased husband had been Lucy’s father, but Lucy wasn’t at all upset by her news, especially when she learned that Fanny was to marry their neighbour and friend, the colonel.
‘He proposed to me at the weekend—we won’t have a long engagement, only a couple of months. Oliver and Tara are both delighted, and I must confess that it will be a relief to share the responsibility for them with someone else again.
‘We’re having a small engagement party this weekend at his house and, of course, we both want you to be there. The children miss you.’
Of course she couldn’t refuse to go, and besides what was there to stop her from attending? After all, Saul wasn’t going to be there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WELL that went off very well didn’t it?’
Lucy, her aunt and her uncle were in the drawing-room of the Dower House, drinking the chocolate her aunt had insisted on making on their return from the engagement party.
Fanny and the two children were spending the weekend at Tom’s house, and Lucy had been pleased to see how well both children, but especially Oliver, got on with him.
Before she left Tom had taken her on one side to tell her that he knew all about Oliver’s true parentage.
‘To be honest, I had wondered. He has a look of your father. I think Fanny should tell him the truth and as soon as possible, but she doesn’t agree with me—at least not yet.’
Lucy did though and she had told him so. The sooner Oliver knew the truth the less traumatic it would be for him, and she had every faith in Tom’s ability to make Fanny see the wisdom of telling, him.
Conventional to the last, Fanny was insisting on waiting until she had been a widow for a full year before she and Tom married, which meant that Lucy would have to shelve her plans for putting the Dower House on the market, she decided as she prepared for bed. Her aunt and uncle had assured her that she would always have a home with them, but she felt that she could not stay cocooned in their protective love for ever. Before the baby was born she would have to come to some decision about their future. If she sold the Dower House, she could buy something smaller and invest the remainder of the money to bring in a small income—but would that be enough for them to live on? Her book would, hopefully, bring her in some additional income. She wanted to be independent, she realised, as she lay sleepless in her bed. She wanted to prove that she was capable of supporting herself and her child. But to whom? Saul?