by Penny Jordan
Even thinking his name was like a sword in her flesh, the pain almost unendurable.
She was awake early—too alert to go back to sleep, but reluctant to disturb her aunt and uncle whom she knew enjoyed a well deserved lie-in on Sunday mornings.
Outside, the sun shone, dispersing the faint mist hanging over the distant hollows in the landscape; an early warning that summer was waning and autumn was on the way.
Autumn was normally one of her favourite seasons, but now she contemplated its faintly melancholy nostalgia that mourned the loss of summer with more acute sensitivity. Shivering a little she got up and dressed, hurrying downstairs to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.
When she had drunk it, an impulse she knew she ought to master but could not urged her outside, her feet automatically taking her along the familiar path to the Manor.
She had walked this drive more times than she cared to remember, but this morning the only journeys she remembered making along it were those which had taken her to Saul.
The house stood, as it had always stood, solid and impervious, but for once she looked at it without seeing all the countless generations of people who had lived within its walls and instead saw only herself and Saul. Like someone unable to resist the lure of something known to be dangerous, she walked towards the house. The front door was open and yielded easily to her touch, but there was nothing odd in that—it was rarely locked.
Inside, the hall had that cold desolateness of houses without inhabitants. The bowl for flowers which had always graced the hall table was gone, a faint film of dust coating the mahogany surface.
Slowly Lucy walked into the drawing-room, mentally reliving the moment when she had found Saul here and he had accused her of plotting against him with Neville. There had been a time immediately after their quarrel when she had hoped that his cruel words to her had been the result of anger and jealousy caused by this belief, but she knew that if that had been the case he would have come looking for her once his anger had cooled.
The very fact that he had not proved beyond any doubt that he had never really loved her. She could have forgiven those cruel, hurtful words of his if she thought they had been flung at her in the heat of the moment and then regretted—loving him as she did she could well imagine herself reacting in a very similar way had their positions been reversed—but Saul hadn’t reacted in anger and primitive jealousy. He had acted callously and cold-bloodedly, wanting to hurt and destroy her.
She shivered, placing a protective hand against her stomach. Whatever else happened, she was not going to allow her child to suffer for its father’s omissions. Her child. Saul’s child… A child who would never know its father.
‘Lucy.’
For a moment she was sure she must be hallucinating, imagining that the voice she heard was Saul’s, and then she turned round and saw that she was not.
He was standing less than ten feet away from her, just inside the door, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his face oddly sharp-boned.
She swallowed, fighting down an insane urge to rush into his arms, and then as he took a step towards her, her composure shattered completely and she stepped back, her whole world exploding in shock and pain as she realised that he was real, that he was actually here, speaking to her as unemotionally as though they were nothing more than distant cousins.
The now familiar wall of blackness roared up around her, her last thought as faintness rushed sickeningly over her that she must somehow contrive to stop behaving like the heroine of a Victorian novelette. Fainting was the coward’s way out, and ridiculously over-dramatic… but very, very effective, she thought tiredly as the darkness overwhelmed her completely; very, very effective.
∗ ∗ ∗
When she came round she was lying on a sofa, her legs raised slightly by the cushions.
As she struggled to remember what had happened, Saul’s voice from somewhere behind her right ear announced curtly,
‘I’ve sent for the doctor; he should be here soon.’
She panicked then, trying to sit up and assure him that she was perfectly all right, both at the same time. The resulting wave of sickness that engulfed her warned her of the folly of trying to do anything too abruptly. She felt extraordinarily weak and shaky, so much so that she said nothing as Saul sprang forward and eased her gently back on to the settee.
‘What… what are you doing here? I thought you were in America.’
‘I was,’ he agreed tersely.
‘Fanny’s going to marry Tom Bishop.’
What a ridiculous thing to be telling him when there was so much between them, Lucy thought wanly, closing her eyes against the mockery she was sure she would see in his. She wanted to get up and run away from him as fast as she could, but she simply did not have the strength.
‘You shouldn’t have called the doctor,’ she told him, ‘I’ll be all right in a moment. It was just the shock…’
‘Of seeing me?’
She could hear the derision in his voice and it hurt. She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes.
‘Lucy, I…’
The rough urgency in his voice made her open her eyes, but even as she did so they both heard the car outside, and he swore abruptly, striding towards the door.
‘This will be the doctor,’ he told her from the doorway. ‘Don’t try to move.’
He was back within seconds, the doctor behind him, but it was not plump, old-fashioned Dr Hartley, who she remembered from her childhood; it was a much younger man, who she realised must be his new partner.
‘Well, young lady. What have you been doing to yourself?’
‘She fainted,’ Saul told him quickly before Lucy could speak. She saw the doctor frown.
‘What happened? Did you have a fall? Bump into something?’
Saul was looking at her, and she licked her lips nervously, icy cold fingers of dread stroking chillingly up her spine. The darkness welled sickeningly around her again, and as she succumbed to it, grateful this time for its blanketing protection, she thought she heard Saul swear, his voice sharp with an anxiety she knew very well could not be for her.
This time when she came round she was in bed in her old bedroom at the Manor. The doctor was sitting in the window staring out of it, but as though some sixth sense alerted him to her recovery he turned and smiled reassuringly at her.
‘Don’t panic. There’s nothing really wrong with you… just a small vitamin imbalance, I suspect. Something that’s relatively common in pregnant women, although in your case…’ He frowned, and dread turned her heart over inside her.
‘You’re going to have to take things easy—especially in the last weeks of your pregnancy—no physical or mental exertion of any kind. You’re not married I take it?’ he asked bluntly.
Lucy shook her head.
‘Mmm… Anyone who can look after you?’
‘My aunt and uncle…’ Panic overwhelmed her as she demanded huskily, ‘My baby…’
His expression softened slightly. ‘You and your baby will both be fine, just so long as you’re sensible,’ he assured her. ‘But being sensible means not worrying—not rushing about exhausting yourself—especially in the last few weeks of your pregnancy. This particular deficiency can result in a premature birth—something we doctors like to avoid.’
He saw that she was looking thoroughly alarmed and added soothingly, ‘However, I’m sure you’re going to behave sensibly and there won’t be any problems. We’ll need to get you into hospital for a couple of days to check just how bad the deficiency is, so that we can decide how we’re going to tackle it—in mild cases, oral vitamin supplements are enough; in more serious ones we prefer to give intravenous shots.
‘My baby…’ she asked anxiously.
‘Will be fine,’ he repeated. ‘Just as long as you behave sensibly. Now, are you actually staying here, or…’
‘At the Dower House,’ Lucy told him tiredly. Her fainting attacks and constant tiredness were now takin
g on a more sinister meaning and she shivered a little despite the warmth of the quilt covering her.
‘Mmm. Well I’d prefer not to move you from here for today. I’ll come back and see you this afternoon—let you know what arrangements I’ve made with the hospital. Is there anyone at the Dower House who…’
‘My aunt,’ Lucy told him, thinking how worried her aunt and uncle would be when they woke up and found her missing. What would have happened to her if Saul hadn’t appeared? If she had fainted when she was alone… But if Saul hadn’t turned up she probably would not have fainted in the first place, she told herself staunchly. It was the shock of seeing him that had brought on her paralysing weakness.
Saul! Where was he now? He must not find out she was pregnant.
‘I’ll leave you now,’ the doctor told her briskly. ‘I advise you to try and get some sleep if you can. I’ll pop in and tell your aunt what’s happening on my way past. Now remember… no worrying.’
She heard the doctor’s footsteps dying away, and then the slam of his car door and the rev of an engine as he drove away.
All around her she could hear the familiar creaks and groans of the house, so familiar that she was only half aware of them. Where was Saul? What on earth would he say when he learned she had to stay here… at least until this afternoon? She should have told the doctor it wasn’t possible, but she had been so concerned about the safety of her baby.
The door opened and Saul walked in carrying a cup of tea. ‘Ellis said you could have this,’ he told her abruptly, placing it down within reach of her hand, but then instead of leaving he walked over to the window, staring out of it for several seconds, with his back to her, before swinging round to face her. His forehead was creased in a frown, his eyes sombre and dark grey.
‘Lucy, we have to talk,’ he announced curtly.
Panic and fear curled protestingly through her stomach. She didn’t want to talk; she wanted to run away… To… But no, she had to face up to him.
‘What about?’ she asked coolly, turning her head slightly away from him as she added half under her breath, ‘I thought you’d already said it all.’
‘Lucy, you know I… What’s past is past,’ he told her in a different, colder tone. ‘And you know damned well what we have to talk about, so stop playing games, and instead start thinking about the future of our child.’
The harshness in his voice grazed her oversensitive nerves. She wanted to deny his words, to tell him that the baby was hers, and hers alone, but she was too shocked by what he had said. How had he discovered?
‘Don’t bother denying it,’ he continued. ‘When Ellis said you were pregnant, I knew immediately the baby must be mine.’
‘Must it?’
His eyes grim, he said cruelly, ‘Unless by some miracle you’ve persuaded Neville to take you to bed, then yes, it must.’
His voice warned her that he wasn’t going to believe any lie she might try to spin him about Neville being the father of her child. Her head lifted proudly as she met his glance head on.
‘Very well then, Saul,’ she agreed tightly. ‘The baby is yours—inasmuch as you’ve fathered it—but you needn’t worry that I shall be making any claims on you, either now or in the future.’
‘You won’t have to,’ he told her tightly. ‘I’ll be right there alongside my son or daughter watching him or her growing up. You’ve two courses Lucy; either you agree to marry me, or I take you through every court in the land to prove that I can give our child a far better life than you could ever manage.’
The shock of it brought her close to fainting again, but somehow she held on to full consciousness, her voice so frail she could barely hear it herself as she demanded huskily,
‘But Saul, why? There’s no reason for you to make yourself responsible for… for what happened. And if you’re so desperate to have children you…’
‘Lucy, we’ve got to try and talk sensibly about this. Ellis has told me about your vitamin deficiency.’ He saw her expression and said harshly, ‘For God’s sake, do you want to lose the baby?’
Her face gave her away, and she turned her head so that he wouldn’t see the weak tears flooding her eyes.
She had not wanted Saul to know she had conceived his child, but she had never, ever dreamed he would react like this, or that he would propose marriage. Pain tightened round her body, encircling her with tormenting fingers. Less than a month ago she would have been overjoyed to receive his proposal, but now… He didn’t want her, he just wanted… What? His child?
‘You need proper care and looking after. Living alone…’
‘I won’t be living alone.’ She saw the colour drain out of his face, a murderous expression darkening his eyes.
‘If you think I’m going to let Summers raise my child…’
‘This has nothing to do with Neville. I’m talking about his parents, my aunt and uncle. They’ve offered me a home.’
‘But I’m not just offering you a home, Lucy. Think about it. Do you really feel you have the right to reject me on behalf of our child? Children need two parents—I think we both know that. How will our son or daughter feel knowing that…’
He broke off as they both heard the front doorbell.
‘That will probably be my aunt and uncle, Saul,’ she told him tiredly. ‘Dr Ellis said he would call at the Dower House.’ Her mouth tightened as she added, ‘It seems unfair that fate should have brought you back here just at this particular moment. I had no intention of telling you about the baby. Why did you come back anyway? Fanny seemed to think you weren’t going to.’
There was a strange expression in his eyes for a moment.
‘Did you think I’d gone for ever as well, Lucy?’ he asked her, his voice oddly husky.
She turned her head away, unable to bear looking at him any longer. If she did, she was bound to betray her pain, to cry out to him that, despite everything that had happened, she had somehow clung to the hope that he had genuinely cared about her, and that, once his anger had cooled, he would regret their quarrel as much as she had herself.
‘I didn’t really give it much thought,’ she said coolly, punishing herself with her denial of her love.
‘No, I suppose you were too busy telling Summers why his little plan wasn’t going to come off,’ he said harshly. ‘By the way,’ he added as he walked over to the door, ‘I’ve decided to keep this place after all—my mother says she’d like to come back and see it. She did grow up here when all’s said and done, and now that I’m to be a father—who knows, maybe my son or daughter might inherit your father’s obsession with the place. Think about it, Lucy,’ he said softly from the door. ‘Think about all you’ll be denying our child, simply for the pleasure of getting at me. Are you really that selfish?’
It was a low blow, and one it took her several seconds to assimilate. Had he really been offering to keep the Manor as a form of bribery, or had she simply allowed her fevered imagination to run away with her?
Marriage to Saul! Once she would have asked nothing more from life, but how could she marry him knowing that he didn’t love her; that he was simply marrying her because they had conceived a child?
‘You can’t want to marry me.’
She said it so quietly, she thought he couldn’t have heard, but he must have done, because he turned in the doorway and said softly, ‘Can’t I? Maybe not. But I promise you I’ll do anything, and everything, that’s necessary to keep my child away from Summers’ influence.’
As he left her his words sank into her mind, leaving her shaken and trembling from head to foot. She was only just beginning to realise how deep the vein of antipathy between the two men ran. As a child she had known it was there, of course, but now as an adult she saw that the schism was much greater than she had perceived. To say they hated one another was perhaps an exaggeration, but it was no exaggeration to say that Neville loathed and detested Saul; and Saul, it seemed, more than returned his feelings—to the extent that he would marry her hims
elf rather than allow his child to be ‘contaminated’ by any relationship she had with Neville.
Once married to Saul she could see that he would soon put a stop to any relationship between Neville and herself—even a cousinly one. But it was all so futile. She cared nothing for Neville—she didn’t even particularly like him. She had told Saul as much.
But she had also told him that she had plotted against him behind his back with Neville, she reminded herself; she had unwittingly fed the resentment Saul felt towards her maternal cousin, not realising how intensely Saul felt about him.
It was perhaps feasible that Saul should think she cared far more for Neville than she actually did, in view of the crush she had had on him when she was twelve.
Her reverie was broken as the door opened to admit her aunt, her plump face creased into worried anxiety.
‘Lucy, my dear. How are you feeling? Dr Ellis called at the Dower House and told us…’
Saul apparently had opted to stay downstairs.
‘He’s talking to your uncle,’ Margaret told her when Lucy enquired. ‘So you’re quite safe if you want a private chat.’
As always her aunt’s shrewdness caught her off guard. Margaret always looked so naïve that it was a surprise to discover just how on the ball she really was.
‘Did Dr Ellis tell you about this vitamin deficiency he thinks I have?’
‘He did mention it briefly, yes,’ Margaret agreed, frowning again. ‘He wants you to go into hospital for some tests, apparently.’
‘Yes. He’s coming back this afternoon to tell me what arrangements he’s made.’
It was plain to Margaret that her niece’s mind was on something else, and she looked at her thoughtfully for a second before saying quietly, ‘What’s really worrying you, Lucy?’