"Adrian!" His name came from between her lips, a bare sliver of sound that cut the air between them as though it were a laser beam.
He frowned. "I'm afraid I don't…" The rest of his sentence died as a dreadful suspicion filtered into his mind. He went on staring at her, as if the intensity of his gaze would cause her to melt away. But she remained a fixed image in front of him: a thin creature of indeterminate age in shabby black clothes. But it was her hands that horrified him the most, for he remembered them as white and delicate, and they were now roughened and red from work, the nails broken, the fingers moving convulsively. It was the sight of those writhing fingers that awakened him to a sense of his responsibility.
"Tanya!" he whispered. "Is it… You can't be Tanya!”
Hearing him say her name, the woman gave a harsh sob and flung herself at his chest. Awkwardly he patted her shoulder, at the same time looking over her head to where his mother and Diana were staring at him in horror. But it was nothing to the horror he felt within himself.
"It's—my—er—it's Tanya," he said aloud. "She must have escaped and—and come straight here."
"Oh my poor Adrian!" His mother's voice rose. "Whatever are we going to do?"
CHAPTER TWO
For as long as she lived, Tanya would never forget the first time she found herself alone with Adrian in his home.
After his mother's horrified question, Adrian had led her into another smaller room whose atmosphere of intimacy went some little way toward restoring her confidence. But the confidence ebbed swiftly when Adrian quickly stepped away from her and motioned her to sit down, carefully placing himself some distance away.
"I wish you had let me know you were coming," he said jerkily. "It was a—a shock to see you." He paused, as though uncertain how to go on, then said: "I take it you've come straight from Rovnia?''
"Yes. I could not let you know because the arrangements were made so quickly."
"You were lucky to escape," he said tonelessly. "Not many of your countrymen do."
"But many wish they could. You know my people, Adrian. You can imagine how much they hate the regime."
"They've lived with it for eight years."
"Eight years of fighting. There is still great resistance. What you would call here—an underground."
"I've read about it," he said, "but one is never sure how true it is."
"It is all true," she said vehemently. "I should know for I was in it myself." She paused, wondering why they should be talking like this when there were so many other things they should be saying. She was with Adrian—her husband—the man she loved with all her heart. Her eyes searched his face, seeing how the years had changed it and knowing that the boy who had kissed her goodbye at the airport was now a man. The slight diffidence in his manner had been replaced by an air of command and the soft-spoken voice had a firmer ring to it. But basically he was still the same. That Adrian was not thinking this about her was obvious from the way he was watching her; as if he were looking at someone he had never seen before.
"When did you leave Rovnia?" he asked.
"Three days ago. But even after I was across the border, I had to be careful. I was in hiding for twenty- four hours and then I was put aboard a train."
"What are your plans?'' he asked stiltedly.
"My plans?" She looked at him blankly. "What plans should I have? I have come here to you. You are my husband."
"Not any longer," he stated. "You divorced me six years ago."
"What?" Tanya jumped up. "It is not true. You are lying!"
"I'm not. Six years ago your government announced that all their citizens who were married to foreigners had divorced them."
"You must have known I would never do that!"
"How could I have known?" He saw her sway and compassion made him step forward and gently place her back in her chair. "Surely you knew about it, Tanya? I didn't blame you for it. I realized you had no choice and—-"
"I knew nothing about it!" she cried. "All I knew was that my letters to you were never answered—that my attempts to get in touch with you came to nothing. It was as though you were dead. I was never told anything about a divorce. Never! All the time we've been apart I have lived for the moment when I would see you… when I would be with you…"
She burst into sobs again and he patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Please don't cry. You are in England and quite safe. I'm sorry if my greeting was rather constrained, but seeing you was something of a shock."
Something of a shock. The words were such an understatement that they almost made her laugh. Except that she was the butt of the joke. Not only was she a foreigner in an alien country, but the man to whom she had come no longer wanted her. Worse than that, for five years he had believed she no longer wanted him.
Carefully she searched his face, trying to read" his thoughts from his expression. But he gave nothing away and she felt as if she were looking at a stranger. Yet he wasn't a stranger. He was still the man she had married; still the man whose ring she wore.
"Naturally you will stay here until you have decided what you want to do," Adrian said. "If there's any way I can help you—"
"I want nothing from you," she burst out. "Nothing!"
"You're only saying that because you're upset. I still feel responsible for you and I want to take care of you."
"I don't want care," she cried. "I want love! "
"I don't think either of us should talk about love. It's eight years since we saw one another and in that time we've changed."
"Not me," she said bitterly. "I am the same. Always the same." Her hands fluttered upward. "Have you forgotten the past so quickly? Doesn't seeing me again make you remember how you felt about me?"
Jerkily he turned away from her. "No. No it doesn't. Six years ago you divorced me. Knowing that, changed the way I felt. I'm sorry, Tanya, but there's no point hiding the truth from you."
Tanya tried to hold herself aloof from his words but painfully, heartbreakingly, they seeped into her. "You mean you no longer love me?"
"I'm saying we're two different people from the man and the girl who married each other eight years ago. Our parting was not something we wanted to happen, but it did happen and—and we can't turn back the clock."
For a long moment she was silent, twisting her hands together, feeling her wedding ring. "Is it because I am no longer beautiful that you do not love me?"
"Oh God!" The words were forced from him. "Don't say that to me. It has nothing to do with the way you look."
"Yes it has," she said. "I am a stranger to you. I can see that now." She stood up again and, doing so, glimpsed herself in the gold-framed mirror above the marble mantelshelf. "Yes," she reiterated, "when I look at myself I can see the face of an old woman. Old before my time." She crossed to the door. "It is not necessary to talk any more. I will go."
"Go where?"
"To London. I am afraid to go to the Rovnian Embassy but there must be a hostel where—"
"Don't be absurd! You must stay here until we have made plans. I know it isn't what you expected it would be but—but at least be sensible."
"Sensible," she echoed. "That is a word you use a lot.
Very well, Adrian, what is the sensible thing you wish me to do?"
"Right now you should go to bed. You look exhausted."
"I have not slept since I left Rovnia," she admitted.
"Then I'll—then my mother will show you to your room and see you settled. After a good night's rest things will look different. I suggest we leave any further discussion until then."
"A very sensible suggestion," she said sedately, and if he saw the mockery in her use of the word, he gave no indication of it.
"I'll have dinner sent up to you on a tray," he said.
"I'm not hungry."
"You may feel like something to eat when you've had a bath and a rest."
Without answering she preceded him into the hall. She could not face going into the drawing room and hovered on
the threshold while he spoke to his mother. She was too far away to hear what he said but she saw the woman's anxiety as she rose and came toward her.
"I think it very wise of Adrian to suggest you go to bed. You must be tired after your exhausting journey."
Not trusting herself to speak, Tanya nodded and followed her mother-in-law up the graceful flight of stairs to the first floor. But the woman walking so rigidly erect in front of her was no longer her mother-in-law, for she herself was no longer Adrian's wife. She was a stranger in a strange house; unwanted and knowing it. The sooner she left the better.
Early morning sunshine filtered into the bedroom and Tanya lay back among the pillows and looked around the beautifully furnished room. A soft green carpet covered the floor, its color picked out in the flowered chintz curtains that made a more vivid splash of color against the cream walls. On a rosewood table beside her bed stood a tray with some half-eaten food on it: the remains of the dinner Adrian had sent up to her last night.
Adrian… She could not think of that forbidding man downstairs as the same man she had married. Through the long years of their separation she had kept his memory alive in her heart, but when memory had come face to face with reality, it was the past which had ceased to exist.
Was it because she had expected him to remain as he had been on the day they had kissed one another goodbye? But no, to say that was to be too kind to him. She had been prepared to find him changed, grown older, made harder by time. What she had not anticipated was that the Adrian of today would make the man of eight years ago seem a total stranger.
How coldly he had looked at her. The horror had been quickly masked but the incredulity had remained. So had the aloofness with which he had put his hands on her shoulders, their light touch showing no lover-like quality; only a recoil which they tried hard to disguise.
She jumped out of bed and peered at her image in the dressing-table mirror. She saw a hollow-cheeked face with large eyes. The skin was still clear but without a trace of color; the blond hair so devoid of luster that it looked grayish. She could not blame Adrian for not recognizing her. Sometimes she hardly recognized herself. Sighing, she began to dress.
She was coming out of the private bathroom which adjoined her bedroom when a maid came in with a breakfast tray.
"Good morning, miss." She placed the tray on the bedside table. "I hope you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you." Tanya looked at the coffee and rolls, "I am ready to go down for breakfast."
"Mr. Chesterton asked me to bring it up to you. He also said he Would like to see you in the library as soon as it is convenient."
"I'll go now." Tanya made a move but the girl shook her head.
"I shouldn't hurry, miss. Have your breakfast first—it will do you good."
Tanya hesitated, then realizing the truth of the remark, perched on the edge of the bed and poured herself some coffee.
It tasted delicious after the synthetic brew to which she had become accustomed in Rovnia; so did the crisp rolls and creamy butter. But she could not eat with appetite and, thinking of the interview ahead, wished it were already over. But the maid had told her not to hurry, and she forced herself to have another cup of coffee, then wandered back to the dressing-table and listlessly combed her hair.
Used to wearing old unfashionable clothes, it was only among these elegant surroundings that she realized how shabby she looked. Her black serge skirt hung almost to her ankles and her blouse had been washed so many times that the brilliant colored embroidery, for which her country was famous, had faded. But there was nothing she could do about it and when she had pinned her hair into its customary neat roll at the back of her head, she went to the library, as Adrian had requested.
He rose from his desk as she went in. "I hope you slept well?" he asked politely.
"Yes, thank you." Without waiting to be asked, she sat down. "I do not think we have much to discuss. The sooner I leave, the better."
"It isn't as simple as that. I've already had a call from someone in the village inquiring if you'd arrived here safely."
"Inquiring?"
"You asked several people the way to get here last night," he replied. "One of them happened to be the village gossip—who also has the memory of an elephant. She remembered I was once married to a foreign girl and she-"
"Guessed I was your wife?" Tanya cut in breathlessly.
"Not that," he said with a shake of his head. "Though if we do anything to make her suspicious she might well put two and two together. At the moment she thinks you came here to—to…" He paused, as though finding it difficult to say what he wanted and then, giving up the struggle, said instead: "I'm not ashamed of having married you, Tanya. I want you to believe that."
"If you say so."
"I do say so." For the first time there was emotion in his voice. "I loved you very much and I only wish that— that things could have worked out differently."
"Thank you. I am glad you said that."
For several seconds they gazed at one another, then Adrian blinked his eyes rapidly, as if trying not see the past. "There's something else you should know," he went on. "I'm standing for Parliament and if it leaks out that I've a wife who comes from behind the Iron Curtain, it could be disastrous for me."
"Why? Anyway, I am no longer your wife."
"I'm not so sure about that. The fact that our divorce was decreed by your government doesn't mean it's valid in this country—especially as we were married at the British Embassy."
"I'm sure you will be able to arrange things to suit you."
He nodded, not commenting on her sarcasm. "There won't be any problem. I'd intended to sort it out once the election was over."
"I still do not understand why my coming here could harm you. My father was imprisoned and murdered because he did not agree with the regime, and I had to be smuggled out of the country for the same reason."
"Intelligent people would realize that," he replied. "But they're not all intelligent."
"Is that the only reason you wish to hide my identity? I do not have great command of your language but that should not make you think I am retarded. And last night I sensed there was another reason why my arrival here was so unwelcome to you."
"If I was hiding anything," he said swiftly, "it was done merely not to hurt you."
"I am used to hurt. Please go on."
There was a pause. "Do you recollect the girl sitting on the settee next to my mother?"
"The one with dark hair? I thought she was your sister."
"No. My sister was still upstairs. The girl you saw was—is—my fiancée."
Tanya swallowed hard. "How can you be engaged when you told me you do not consider yourself free?"
"Of course I'm free. As I just told you, it's only a matter of legalizing the position."
"It's a pity you did not do it six years ago. Then you would not have to bother with me today."
"You aren't a bother," he replied. "You were my wife and I have a duty to look after you."
"I would prefer to leave. I am used to fending for myself. My mother was ill for many years after my father died, and the authorities made it difficult for me to find work. Even our friends were afraid to show their closeness to us and I learned then how to cope on my own."
"Why didn't you try to escape before?"
"I could not leave while my mother was alive."
Adrian colored. "I'm sorry. I should have realized that. But now you're here, I wish you to stay until…"
His voice trailed away but Tanya knew what he had left unsaid. "Until your election is over?"
"Yes. Already everybody in the village knows you're here, and if you go away so soon they'll wonder why."
"Tell them I was a new maid," she said lightly, "and that I was not adequate." His sudden flush made her stare at him harder. "Is that what—what you want me to pretend I am?"
"No, no, not that." His voice was sharp. "But nurse to my sister's children. As a pretense only, of co
urse. My mother suggested it as a way out of the problem. Then you could remain here until I arrange to take care of you properly."
"If I stay, it is only because I do not wish to affect your career. I want nothing from you."
"We'll talk about that later." He avoided her eyes. "You're being extremely cooperative, Tanya."
"Do not thank me. Beggars cannot be choosers, and in the home of my husband I am truly a beggar."
"My dear, don't say that!"
Ignoring the anguish in his voice, because her own anguish was the greater, she fled from the room.
Alone in the hall she stared around with a hunted expression, then pushed open the door directly opposite her and found herself in the room she had first entered last night. It was beautifully furnished with the understated elegance that typified all she had so far seen of the house. Huge bowls of garden flowers perfumed the air and french windows stood wide open to show a view of a York stone terrace. She made for this at once and did not pause until she had reached the shallow steps that led down to the lawn. This too was everything she had supposed an English lawn to be: smooth, flower- bordered and a perfection of green. In the distance a small plantation of silver birches pointed to a lily pond. Overwhelmed by the unexpected beauty, her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them away, knowing it would be fatal if she allowed herself to be overwhelmed by self- pity. She must not think how different her future was going to be from all she had hoped for. Instead she must think how different it was going to be from her past. She might not have Adrian but at least she had her freedom.
The branch of a tree brushed against her hair and she looked up, enthralled by the loveliness of the cherry blossoms. She could not restrain a murmur of joy and she pulled a laden branch down and pressed her face against the blossoms.
Rachel Lindsay - Unwanted Wife Page 2