by Unknown
But, as if mistaking her involuntary submission, Matthew was already propelling her away from him. Holding her at arm's length, he forced her to look at him, and Rachel closed her eyes against the penetrating fire of his.
'Rachel,' he muttered, shaking her a little as she continued to evade his searching gaze. 'For God's sake, what's the matter? Do you feel sick? Faint? What?'
'I'm—all right,' she got out at last, endeavouring to free herself from his hands. Forced to open her eyes, she looked anywhere but into his face. 'It—it was just the shock, that's all.
And—and I banged my knee.'
'You did? Where?' Releasing her, he dropped down on to his haunches in front of her, and to her dismay she felt his hands peeling up the leg of her jeans to expose the purpling skin.
'Hell,' he swore grimly, his fingers unbearably gentle as they probed the quivering bones, 'why do you persist in making me feel such a brute?' He tilted his head back to look up at her, and her heart palpitated at the look of naked frustration in his eyes. 'I thought I was doing you a favour, can you believe that? Instead, I've only made you hate me even more than you already did!'
'I—don't—hate you.' She could say that with all certainty.
She wished to God she did. It would have been so much less painful. 'Honestly,' she added unsteadily, bending to roll down the leg of her jeans, and in so doing bringing her face within inches of Matthew's.
Afterwards, she realised that he had recognised the danger at the same moment she did. They both straightened together, and she thought his expression mirrored her own sudden sense of anguish, though there was no trace of it in his abrupt withdrawal.
'I'd better go,' he said, and his voice was almost formally detached. He picked up the chair which had caused the trouble, and deposited it back beside the table. 'Unfortunately, I can't do anything about the phone call, but there's nothing stopping you from ringing him again and putting him straight. I'll have Nurse Douglas fetch you the cordless phone
'
'Don't bother.' Rachel broke in before he had finished what he had to say. 'I—I'll speak to him later. When— when I know when I'm leaving.'
'As you wish.' Matthew made a gesture of indifference, and walked towards the door. 'I'll leave you now. If you want anything—anything at all—just ask Nurse Douglas.'
'Thank you.'
Rachel watched him let himself out of the door, and after it had closed behind him a feeling of total devastation gripped her.
In the last few minutes she had run the gamut of her emotions, and she was left with the unpleasant realisation that only the strongest of these survived. And, in her case, it wasn't the contempt she had believed she would feel when she saw her ex-husband again...
Matthew reined in his mount on the lower slopes of Rothdale Pike. Running soothing hands over Saracen's neck, he surveyed the whole length of the lake, with the roofs of Rothside like stepping-stones below him. In spite of the early hour, there were already one or two white sails dotting the wide expanse of water, with a couple of windsurfers nearer at hand, riding the gentle waves.
'I don't think Marigold's very fit, Daddy!' exclaimed Rosemary, panting a little as she dug her heels into the pony's sides to urge her up the track to join her father.
'I think she's just short of exercise,' responded Matthew drily, reaching over to grasp the pony's bridle and pull her nearer. 'And remember, it could have been several more days before she got some air. I believe you were supposed to be grounded for a week.'
'Oh, it was Grandmama who said that --- '
'/said it, too,' amended her father warningly. 'Which reminds me, you never did tell me where you got those cigarettes. Do you want to tell me now, or is it to remain a bone of contention between us?'
'Oh, Daddy!'
Rosemary sighed, and Matthew knew a moment's contrition.
He hadn't meant to sound so severe, and he half wished he hadn't brought up the subject of the cigarettes—not this morning.
The decision to take his daughter riding had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. He wasn't at all sure why he had invited her to join him, except that it had something to do with what Rachel had said that morning he had caused her accident. And he had been the cause of it, he thought ruefully. Whatever she said, and however much he might justify to himself what had happened, the fact remained that if he had not lost his temper and pushed her she would not have fallen and injured her head.
Still, he had to admit that since that morning he had spent an awful lot of time considering what Rachel had said. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true—he did give little of his time to his daughter. Yet, while Barbara was alive, he had seldom felt a sense of guilt about it.
Perhaps if he had been able to feel that she really was his daughter he would have acted differently, he reflected now. Not that he had ever voiced his doubts to anyone else. Being accused of being incapable of siring a child was not something you discussed with anyone except your wife, particularly if she was the one who was making the accusation.
He shook his head. What a ruinous mess he had made of his life, he thought bitterly. How much different things might have been if he had done as his mother had wanted and married Cecily Bishop in the first place.
And yet, he and Rachel had been happy in those early days, before her career had become more important to her than he was. No one had been able to hurt them; they had been impregnable. But then the rows had begun, and his isolation had grown; and Barbara had seemed so sympathetic...
'What are you thinking about, Daddy?'
Rosemary's anxious voice dragged him back to the present, and the realisation that he had been indulging in maudlin retrospection. What did it matter now what had been said?
Barbara was dead. Rosemary was his daughter. And, as Rachel had pointed out, she needed him if no one else did.
'Nothing,' he said now, forcing a tight smile to his lips.
'Come on, we'll ride down to the village, and get some ice-cream.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'So, WHEN are you coming back?'
Justin's enquiry was pleasant enough, but Rachel sensed the controlled impatience behind the words. And why not? she asked herself unhappily. When she had come north, he had expected her to be away for only two days. Those two days had now stretched to a week, and she still could give him no real definition of when she would actually return.
'I'm sure you're managing to cope,' she ventured lightly, hoping to divert him, but Justin wasn't amused.
'Oh, we're managing to cope very well,' he replied nastily, clearing his throat. 'Perhaps you should be worrying about that.
We may find we manage very well without you.'
Rachel sighed. 'It's not my fault that I'm stuck up here.'
'Well, it's certainly not mine,' retorted Justin. 'If you remember, I didn't want you to go in the first place. I knew something like this would happen. I knew Conroy would find some way to keep you there.'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous!' Rachel was impatient now. 'Matt isn't responsible for what happened. That is—well, he is, I suppose. If you want to be literal about it. But it was an accident! He didn't engineer it. Heavens, I could have fallen without anyone else being involved.'
'But Conroy was involved, wasn't he? However indirectly.
And I have to tell you, I don't like his attitude. Were you too scared to ring and tell me what had happened? I'm telling you, he got a great deal of enjoyment out of giving me the news.'
'Oh, Justin.' Rachel's fingers tightened around the receiver.
'You know you're exaggerating. Matt only rang because he thought I wasn't up to it.' And when had she come to that conclusion? 'I intended phoning you myself. He beat me to it, that's all.'
'And have you stopped to ask yourself why?'
'I've told you why.' Rachel hated Justin in this mood. He could be so objectionable. She had seen him reduce some of the younger reporters and secretaries to tears at times, but it was a new experience for him to turn hi
s bile on her. 'Anyway, I'm ringing you now, aren't I? What more can I do? You know I'll be back as quickly as I can.'
'Do I?' He didn't sound convinced. 'You still haven't told me when that's likely to be.'
'Because I don't know!' exclaimed Rachel in exasperation.
'But—well, I went outdoors yesterday for the first time, and the doctor thinks that in another week '
Justin snorted. 'Another week?'
'That I should be well enough to drive back to town, at least.'
'But not to work?' The sarcasm was back, and Rachel shook her head.
'Not—immediately, perhaps. But in a couple of days '
'So we can't expect you back in the office for at least another two weeks?'
'Well,' Rachel licked her dry lips, 'it's Tuesday today.
Perhaps a week on Thursday, hmm?'
'What choice do I have?'
Justin sounded furious, and justifiably so, thought Rachel unwillingly. But there was no point in prevaricating. Unless she was prepared to override Dr Newman's advice and make her own arrangements, she was compelled to remain where she was.
'I'm sorry,' she murmured now, and she heard his angry intake of breath.
'So am I,' he conceded, without any sigh of compassion, and before she could say anything more he had slammed down his receiver.
Rachel was sliding the small aerial belonging to the cordless phone back into its socket when someone knocked at her door.
Putting the phone down, she rose to her feet as the door was propelled inward, and then sank back into her seat when Rosemary's head appeared. 'Can I come in?'
'Can I stop you?' Rachel pushed the anxieties caused by her call to Justin aside, and smiled at the little girl. 'What do you want?' she asked, glancing towards the windows, where she could see the sun gleaming on the lake. 'Isn't it too nice a day to be indoors?'
'Not 'cording to Grandmama,' replied Rosemary, with a grimace, and Rachel frowned.
'Oh, but I thought—that is—Mrs Moffat said that your father took you riding the other morning.'
'Yes, he did. Yesterday,' Rosemary nodded. 'But— well, anyway, today he's gone off to Carlisle, and Grandmama says I have to do some reading.'
'Reading?' Rachel ran her tongue over her lower lip. 'But you do go to school, don't you?'
'In Rothside,' agreed Rosemary quickly. But then, with a grimace, she added, 'I don't know if I'll be going back, though.
Daddy was awfully cross. And just when he was being nice, too.'
Rachel shook her head. 'Matt—I mean, your daddy was cross about you going to school?' She was confused.
'No!' Rosemary hunched her small shoulders. 'About the cigarettes. He found out, you see. Mrs Reed told him.'
'She did?' Rachel was surprised.
'Well, not on purpose!' exclaimed Rosemary impatiently, realising what she had said. 'It was yesterday, you see. Daddy suggested we should ride down to the village, and get some ice-cream.'
'When you were out riding?' Rachel probed, and the little girl expelled her breath in a noisy assent.
'How was I to know she would think he'd come to complain?' she asked frustratedly. 'I mean, Daddy never—
ever—goes into the village stores. Mrs Moffat gets everything we want delivered.'
'I see.' Rachel was beginning to understand. 'And Mrs Reed spilled the beans, hmm?'
'Mmm.' Rosemary groaned. 'I s'pose it was me being with him, and Daddy asking her how Mr Reed was keeping. Mr Reed has bronc—broncy—a bad cough, and Daddy said he hoped he'd stopped smoking, because cigarettes make coughs worse.'
'And Mrs Reed thought he knew she had been supplying you with cigarettes.'
'I think so. Anyway, she got all flustered, and said she worried a lot about giving cigarettes to children, but that as he was such a good customer she didn't like to refuse.'
'The old ' Rachel had been about to say 'devil', but she managed to bite her tongue. 'So, what happened?'
Rosemary pulled a face. 'Well—Daddy was ever so polite.
He didn't tell her he knew nothing about it, like I thought he would. He said he wouldn't send me to the shop for cigarettes ever again, and that he knew he could trust Mrs Reed not to say anything, because she might lose her licence if she did.'
'Neat.' Rachel couldn't prevent the wry smile that touched her lips at the little girl's words. So, Matthew had defended his daughter at last. And spiked Mrs Reed's guns into the bargain.
'That was then,' added Rosemary gloomily. 'But when we got home he was really angry. He said he had been having second thoughts about sending me to boarding- school—you know, like I told you before—but that if I was prepared to steal to defy him, perhaps he ought to think again.' She sniffed. 'I wasn't stealing really, was I? Mrs Reed knew what I was doing.'
Rachel hesitated. 'Yes. But you were asking her to put them on your father's account. He was paying for them, wasn't he?
Not you.'
'Well, he buys me sweets and Colas all the time.' 'That's different, and you know it.'
Rosemary looked sulky. 'I thought you were my friend.'
'I am your friend. At least, I hope I am. But you have to admit, you were spending money that wasn't yours.'
Rosemary shrugged. 'Oh, well, it doesn't matter now,' she muttered moodily. 'He's hardly likely to give me a second chance.'
'I wouldn't say that.' Rachel regarded her gently. 'And don't say he, say Daddy. You're not going to get anywhere if you revert to being insolent.'
'What do you know about it?' Rosemary gave her a brooding look. 'You'll be leaving soon. Grandmama says so. She says that when you get back to London you'll soon forget all about me.'
'No, I won't.' Rachel knew a moment's irritation at the old lady who, deliberately or otherwise, was helping to give Rosemary such a complex. 'And don't expect the worst of everybody. Your father's had a difficult time, coping—coping with the funeral and everything. Maybe if you tried to understand his position, he'd find it easier to understand yours.'
'Do you think so?' Rosemary's face mirrored her uncertainty.
'He used to like me. At least, I thought he did. When I was little he used to play with me a lot. He even taught me to ride. But for ages now he's always been too busy when I've asked him to go riding with me, and he never takes me to see Auntie Helen and Uncle Gerry like he used to do before.'
'Helen and Gerald,' echoed Rachel softly, remembering Matthew's sister and her husband with some affection. They had not exactly been close friends when she was married to Matthew, but at least they hadn't turned against her when the marriage fell apart.
'Do you know them?' asked Rosemary at once, and Rachel instantly regretted her involuntary admission.
'I—used to,' she conceded, unwilling to explain exactly how she knew them. 'Um—you know, it's such a lovely morning, I think I might go for a walk. Do you want to come with me?'
Rosemary's small face brightened, and then grew doubtful again. 'Well—I'm supposed to stay indoors today,' she admitted slowly. 'Daddy said ------------------------- '
'I would welcome your company,' put in Rachel temptingly, deciding that, no matter what Matthew thought, as long as she was here at Rothmere she would do what she could to make Rosemary's life a little more exciting. It didn't sound as if she had any fun in the normal course of events, and while Barbara's illness must have accounted for part of the problem it was by no means the whole solution. Something had gone wrong here, something more than the trauma created when one member of a family develops a terminal disease. Not that Rachel expected to find out exactly what that problem was, that wasn't her concern.
But if by befriending the child she could help her and her father to understand one another better, then surely it was worth the effort?
'Well...' Rosemary was faltering. 'Perhaps if you need somebody to come with you...'
'Oh, I do.' Rachel smiled. 'How about if you show me your pony, hmm? The walk to and from the stables should be just about right.'
It
was a good morning, and Rachel, just as much as Rosemary, enjoyed the outing. Meeting Jim Ryan again was quite an experience, and if the old Irishman thought it was odd that she and the child who had caused the break-up of her marriage should seem such good friends, he kept his opinion to himself. Instead, he expressed his pleasure at seeing her again, and asked how she was feeling after suffering such an accident.
'Sure, and you won't be wanting Jessica saddled this morning, will you?' he added ruefully. 'Not that she's used much these days anyway. But Mr Matt wouldn't have me get rid of her. You know, I think he's got some affection for the beast.'
Of course, Rosemary was curious to know when Rachel had ridden the old chestnut mare, but she managed to divert the girl by asking to see the other horses in the stables. Particularly the black stallion Matthew had been riding the afternoon they had met on Rothdale Pike. That proud animal, which Rosemary told her was named Saracen, snorted a little nervously when they approached his stall, and Jim Ryan was on hand to advise caution.
'Ah, but he's a fine creature, so he is,' Ryan nodded, dodging the stallion's nodding head. 'But I think he has an aversion to the ladies. Now, watch out, Rosie, his teeth are sharp.'
They walked back to the house in time for lunch, and to Rachel's relief—and Rosemary's too, no doubt—they didn't meet anyone on the way.
'We'll have to do this again,' Rachel said lightly, as they parted at the foot of the stairs, and the little girl nodded eagerly.
'Tomorrow?' she suggested, and Rachel made a gesture of assent.
'Why not?' she agreed, starting up the stairs towards her room. 'Come and see me after breakfast. That is, if your father has no objections.'
Rosemary's expression was eloquent of her feelings, and Rachel guessed they were both thinking the same thing. No one could be sure what Matthew's reaction might be, and if Lady Olivia found out Rachel had no doubt that she would object, very strongly.
The next morning, Dr Newman told her he was dismissing Nurse Douglas. 'Not that I want you to infer from this that I consider you completely recovered,' he added swiftly. 'But, in the circumstances, I don't believe her presence is warranted, particularly as Mr Conroy's staff are more than capable of providing the necessary care.'