For much of the time, her tensions eased, she was content simply to listen and to soak up impressions of a lifestyle which was so very different from her own—where luxury, horses, private planes and exotic travel were everyday experiences.
Not that their wealth was flamboyantly evident— the room in which they ate was pretty and practical rather than ostentatious. It was built in an octagonal shape, opening onto a terrace with steps leading down to a circular swimming pool. The table where they sat was round, draped with cream damask, a bowl of red roses in the centre, all festively gleaming with silver and crystal. The food, unobtrusively served by a pleasant middle-aged woman, was delicious but simple—a chilled soup, grilled lamb chops, tiny and meltingly tender, eaten with a plain salad, and fruit and cheese to complete the meal.
Less simple was the champagne which they drank, and which might have been in part responsible for the atmosphere of relaxed pleasure. And beneath it all was the certainty that here was a happy, united family, much as her own had been, taking pleasure in each other’s company, sharing interests. And, although Jake was inevitably the one who interested Ginny most, she also liked his mother, while his father...
Well, sitting eating was almost the first chance she had had to form opinions, and turning her head to speak, smiling at some remark, provided a perfect opportunity.
Once or twice she’d had a curious feeling, one difficult to identify but disturbingly positive once she became aware of it. A glance which made her hold her breath, a frisson of familiarity at a particular gesture—and something like a trickle of icy water down her spine when she realised she was recognising something of herself through a slightly distorted mirror. Nothing which would be visible to a casual observer, but here and there a flicker of something she recognised. Spooky. Or perhaps mere auto-suggestion.
In spite of this, she still retained a certain reserve, a prejudice about Hugo Vanbrugh, wholly coloured by what she knew of him—and that was unfair. After all, she harboured no such feelings about her mother. If he had cultivated a false image, then Jane had done it just as effectively, and who was Ginny to blame either?
In fact, irresistibly, her eyes settled on the younger man sitting opposite, his eyes crinkling in amusement at some anecdote, white teeth gleaming against dark skin. She was, for the first time, appreciating how potent a force sexual attraction could be...
All at once she saw she was the focus of his attention. His parents continued to toss light-hearted conversation back and forth while Jake raised his glass in what appeared to be a surreptitious salute. He raised it and sipped, his eyes holding hers over the crystal rim.
Heart beating in quite unreasonable excitement, she felt compelled to return the gesture, her whole body suffused with tension and longings which the wine did little to still.
Then their reverie was interrupted. She saw Jake’s eyes move with obvious reluctance towards his father, and an instant later, realised that everyone was waiting for a reply from her.
‘I’m sorry.’ She coloured guiltily and dabbed with her napkin at her hand, where she had spilled a drop of wine. ‘I was still thinking of that story about Jake and the baseball and I didn’t quite catch...’
Not for the first time she diagnosed a ruthless streak, a hardness in Hugo Vanbrugh which seemed not to have surfaced in his son...
‘I was asking how it happened you and Jake met up, since I gather you have just arrived in the country. I would have thought you’d hardly had the time...’ It was the most brutal return to earth, one she wished she might have postponed indefinitely, but...
‘Oh. Yes...’ If all colour had drained from her face, as she thought probable, none of the others noticed. No one rushed forward to support her so it was reasonable to assume there were no outward signals, for which she ought to be grateful. Inwardly in turmoil, she was clinging desperately to calm, to reason, thrusting aside her inclination to rush screaming from the room.
‘I’ve been waiting for the right moment to talk to you... You see, in fact...’ Unflinchingly she held the keen, steady gaze of the man who was her father. She was even, in a detached way, able to spare a second to wonder if he had, at this late stage, some inkling of the truth. ‘In fact, it was you I hoped to see.
‘I’m sure my name didn’t register properly with you—no reason why it should.’ Such an effort to appear calm and at ease. ‘But I was born Ginny Martyn-Browne and I understand you and my...my parents were very good friends when you were in Hong Kong.’
Hugo Vanbrugh stared—it was obvious to her that he was shocked, possibly even angry. In the background she was aware of Jake telling his mother of her unexpected appearance in his office, of Karen’s reluctance to admit her...
‘Martyn-Browne, you say?’ Hugo had regained his composure. ‘Ah, that I do remember. I met Tom at the military hospital; he fixed up a broken tooth.’ Ah, so they had met, Ginny thought, but did not say anything. ‘I remember them both very well.’
It was a relief to hear Jake take up the story. ‘Apparently Ginny’s parents had this plan to come to the States to look you up—that’s right, isn’t it, Ginny?’
‘Yes, but my father died two years ago.’ It was so painful to recall, especially in these fraught circumstances.
‘Oh, I’m sorry about that. And...your mother?’ Hugo Vanbrugh paused. ‘Jane, wasn’t it?’
Something about that hesitation, that hint of vagueness, struck at Ginny. Suppose she was all wrong? That it hadn’t been the love affair of the century? Suppose her mother had been one in a succession of Hugo Vanbrugh’s women and he really had a problem thinking of her name? Her voice shook dangerously. ‘She...she was killed in a traffic accident several months ago.’
‘Oh, my dear.’ Mrs Vanbrugh reached out a comforting hand. ‘How terribly sad for you.’
‘Mmm’ She played with a fork until her composure was regained. ‘Anyway, since I had to come to New York on a quick business trip—’ that lie came easily and might be useful if she were forced to extricate herself hurriedly ‘—and since I knew it was my parents’ plan, I decided on the spur of the moment to look you up, though I had no intention of gate-crashing the way I seem to have done.’ Ignoring the murmurs of dissent, she went on. ‘There are one or two mementoes they planned to let you have.’
‘Well, I’m sorry about your father, Ginny, he was a fine man. And your mother too; I remember she was a formidable opponent at the bridge table. A wonderful woman.’ A faint smile did not wholly disguise Hugo’s shocked expression, but whether that signified distress at the news or merely concern about its implications on his own life it was impossible to say.
‘Yes, she was still that, right to the end of her life.’ Though her voice wobbled again, Ginny was able to smile with a touch of defiance, unaware that her strained expression revealed damaged emotions. ‘She was so active, so full of life...’ She bit at her lower lip then continued. ‘But here am I, casting a blight on what has been such a wonderful day.’ A more genuine smile now as she raised an almost empty glass. ‘Once again, congratulations and very best wishes.’
The older couple murmured appreciatively and a moment later Mrs Vanbrugh spoke reflectively. ‘You mustn’t apologise, Ginny, it does us good to think of other people at such times. And to consider that not everyone has been as fortunate as we have. But one thing you must remember your parents were very fortunate to have a daughter like you. They must have been so proud.’
It took a considerable effort of will to avoid flicking a glance in Hugo’s direction, although she knew he was watching her intently. Most likely he was trying to decide exactly why she was here—blackmail might be one of the possibilities which would occur to him, and serve him right!
But she smiled at his wife with what serenity she could muster. ‘You are very kind. And of course it worked both ways, I had the best of parents.’ Let him remember that when I put him in the picture completely, she prayed mutinously. ‘I was lucky in my relationship with them.’
&nbs
p; After that the conversation became general. Mrs Vanbrugh swept Ginny out through the French doors and down the flight of steps to the paved area about the pool, demonstrating her passion for gardening as they went by naming all the climbing roses and shrubs which rioted colourfully over the surrounding walls. Then they went out through a wrought-iron gate, took a short stroll across the park and came back into the house through the main entrance.
‘Now, my dear.’ Inside the hallway Mrs Vanbrugh paused, apologising with a sigh. ‘Would you mind terribly if I begged to be allowed to go to bed?’ She flashed Ginny a beguiling smile. ‘It has been a hectic day and I feel quite tired—and...more champagne than I’m used to.’
‘More than most people are used to, I imagine, and of course I don’t mind. It would be more surprising if you weren’t exhausted.’ She was about to say she would like to do the same when Jake appeared, his father close on his heels.
‘I’ve got to go out. I hope you don’t mind.’ Jake’s explanation was offered to both women but directed more to Ginny. ‘There’s some trouble with Randy; Miguel just called.’ He was moving towards the door.
‘But don’t go to bed, Ginny. I thought we might have a swim later... I’ll see you before you go to sleep, Mother.’ And, before anyone could reply, he was taking the steps two at a time in his easy, athletic stride. Seconds later a vehicle accelerated down the drive.
His mother stood, one foot resting on the lowest tread of the staircase. ‘Randy is the first stallion Jake had, but he’s getting to be an old fellow now. Miguel is the head groom and he has been worried, anxious for Jake to take a look at him. Anyway, I don’t suppose he’ll be long.’ She swung round towards her husband. ‘I’m going to bed, darling.’ He came across, put an arm about her waist and kissed her cheek.
‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Oh.’ She had just begun to climb the stairs when she obviously had a thought. ‘Isn’t this the perfect time for your chat with Ginny? You won’t have time in the morning. Go on—you can both reminisce like mad and...didn’t you say something about a memento, my dear?’
‘Yes.’ Now that the moment was upon her, Ginny found herself trembling. ‘In fact—’ she determined to be positive ‘—I’ll run up now and pick up the package.’
Having said goodnight to her hostess, she paused inside the spacious bedroom, barely aware of the elegant pink drapes, the soft patina of old colonial furniture. Then, with a sigh, she moved forward, retrieved the taped package from the drawer where she had put it earlier and was about to leave when she caught sight of herself in the cheval-glass.
Surprising that after such a traumatic day she should look so comparatively normal. None of her friends, if they could see her now, would have guessed she was passing through one of the most testing times of her life. Her eyes were softly luminous, cheeks delicately flushed, mouth apparently ready to curve into a smile, but it was all at odds with her quivering nerves.
At least, she assured herself, Hugo Vanbrugh needn’t be ashamed of their relationship, and she blessed the forethought which had prompted her to pack one of her prettiest summer outfits. The silk T-shirt was in her favourite amber colour and she had teamed it with a shortish sarong-style skirt, black, but scribbled all over with topaz. It shrieked ‘Paris’ and gave wonderful exposure to her long shapely legs.
She loved wearing it, and if it wasn’t for her present predicament... She took a moment to brush her hair into a floating nimbus, gave herself a brief spray of perfume, another French extravagance, and then, in a wild urge to get things over, she hurried from the room.
‘Come through here, Ginny.’ He must have been waiting for her, and led her along a corridor to the back of the house. ‘We shan’t be disturbed.’
They were in an obviously male retreat, much darker and more austere than the rest of the house, with much wood panelling, sporting prints and antique guns. He gestured towards a green leather chair, deeply buttoned, and sat in the matching one on the far side of the fireplace sighing deeply.
‘Now perhaps we can get down to some explanations...’
In spite of her deep agitation, Ginny forced herself to look directly into his eyes. After all, she had done nothing to be ashamed of and had no intention of embarrassing him. In fact, she seemed to be the one who would suffer most from the whole confused affair. A sob began in her throat but she choked it back.
‘Before I go on, I want to say how sorry I am that your family is involved. That was the last thing I intended should happen. As explained, I went to your office, asked for you and found myself talking to Jake. After that I seemed to lose control of the situation—Jake simply railroaded me.’
That brought a wry grin to Hugo’s mouth. ‘I can believe that.’
He waited for her to continue, and she found all the little speeches she had prepared simply stuck in her throat—for how to explain to a man that he was looking at a daughter whose existence he had never suspected? The result of a long-abandoned liaison which he scarcely remembered. Was there a painless way to break such news? If there was then she wished she could find it, but...
‘Perhaps it would be better if I were to give you this letter to read first.’
She watched him frown over his own name on the envelope—when he caught his breath did it mean he’d recognised the handwriting? Then he extracted the pages and began to scan the lines, one clenched fist pressed hard against his forehead. That was when Ginny had to avert her face. Once or twice he murmured her mother’s name, but in a voice so distraught she wished she could stop her ears.
She had been wrong! So wrong to seek peace for herself at someone else’s expense. Her own self-interest could not only have repercussions for Hugo but could seriously damage his family. And not only the Vanbrughs. Knowing that soon she would have to leave Jake... Maybe that would be a fitting retribution—certainly it brought a sorrow which was beyond tears.
Hugo had finished reading. The hand holding the pages drooped, and it was a long time before the silence was broken with a desolate sigh. ‘So, Ginny...what you are saying...’
She raised her head, saw dark, slender fingers rake through the silvery hair and was filled with pity for the man who was going through such a cataclysmic reappraisal.
‘It was just as shattering for me. I never had the least suspicion that Tom—I loved him so much—that he wasn’t my real father.’ Pain meant that she was unable to say more.
‘Wouldn’t...?’ There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. He rose, walked past her to the window. ‘Wouldn’t it have been better to leave things as they were?’
‘Maybe.’ Foolish to feel so wounded. It was especially wounding that he was confirming her own immediate thoughts. ‘Only, there was so much passion, such intensity in everything my mother wrote—I felt a tremendous compulsion, for her sake as much as my own. You were so obviously the love of her life...’
‘And she of mine.’ His voice was ragged. His sincerity could not be doubted. He crossed the room and sat down again. ‘I’m sorry, Ginny, the last thing I ought to do is blame you for anything.’ His smile was brief and tortured. ‘It’s just...so...so shocking to think that Jane...that you...’
‘One way I feel I am to blame is how I went about things. There are more discreet ways I ought to have chosen. I could have approached you through a third party—I know very well it could have been done. Instead I rushed over here thinking I could manage it all myself and... Well, you need never worry that I shall say a word to anyone else. You and I are the only two people in the world who need ever know...’
‘Thank you for that. I would hate if Marion were to find out, though...she did know there was someone. Maybe I’d better explain...’ He gave a heavy sigh.
‘We met and married as soon as I graduated from West Point, but almost at once she realised she didn’t like life as an army wife. It was my chosen career, which I loved, but I found it hard going about on my own.
‘Marion stayed here in the family home with her p
arents. All her friends were close by and she loved being on the ranch with her horses. By the time I went to Nam we had been living apart, except for furloughs. Maybe even drifting apart. And then I met Jane when I was in Hong Kong...’
There was a longish silence when it seemed he might have forgotten Ginny’s presence, the deep-set eyes reflecting a mix of happiness and pain.
‘Well...’ He came to with a little shrug. ‘I can’t explain except to say that I fell desperately in love with her—something I’d had no experience of at that level—and for Jane it was the same. If she had agreed to divorce Tom I would have left Marion, we would have married eventually and...how different life might have been for... well, for all of us. But you must know your mother had very committed principles, and nothing I could say would persuade her. And, apart from that, she couldn’t bear to hurt your father.’ As he used that word he frowned, grimaced slightly in pained apology. ‘You can see as much from the letter.’
‘Yes.’ Suffused by a wholly unexpected wave of sympathy for him, Ginny resisted the urge to put out a comforting hand. He was not the kind of man to welcome such gestures. ‘Yes, I can see that.’
‘In the end your father—’ he gave a faintly grim smile as he corrected the slip this time ‘—I mean Tom was due back. Things were building up in Vietnam and we decided to break things off. As it happened, I got wounded pretty badly, came back on a stretcher and had a long spell of recuperation.
‘I tried to accept what Jane had decided, though I won’t pretend it was easy. I went through many dark, bitter nights. We had agreed to have no further contact and that was pretty hard—though it might have been for the best.
‘Marion and I agreed to try to save our marriage for everyone’s sake, for there was Jake to consider as well. I made up my mind to quit the service so we could have a more regular lifestyle and I set up my own company.
‘That, at least, has been a great success. The hard work in the early days might have helped take my mind off the personal problems and Marion was invaluable on the social side and... Well, we’ve been happy for the last twenty or so years.’
A Reckless Affair Page 5