Peace reigned on the moors. Time stood still, like the pendulum on a broken clock. What an awesome feeling being so small and insignificant against such grandeur. He returned after a time to find her sitting quietly on her horse.
“What happened, Melanie? I waited for you to catch up?” He surveyed her with a brooding, puzzled gaze.
“I suddenly thought of home and Robbie.” A scowl marred his handsome features. “And James too, of course,” she hurriedly added. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to return to Ballarat?”
“I don’t know.” His expression became closed and shuttered. “Later maybe, when things die down. Let’s get back.” Was it the mention of Robbie’s name that caused his eyes to darken with anger? Could he be jealous of a dead man?
He didn’t speak again, but stared straight ahead, his hand clenched tightly on the reins. Their friendly comradeship of before had disappeared. He wore a grim, almost harsh expression causing her feelings of foreboding to grow. Michael in England was not the same as the Michael she had known at home.
What a relief to return to Greystones. They dined together once more, as his parents had still not returned. Without speaking, he concentrated on eating the delicious attractively presented meal.
Hoping to catch him off guard, she asked. “Where’s the Countess?”
His features hardened, yet his voice retained its usual timbre. “She’s gone to Paris for a few days.”
“Won’t she mind me staying here? Wouldn’t the servants gossip and spoil her plans?”
His harsh laughter grated on her nerves. “None of the Greystones servants indulge in gossip. They know it would mean instant dismissal, and work for domestics in England without a reference is hard to come by.”
He sounded so cold-blooded she gasped in dismay.
“I’ve shocked you, my sweet. I’m acting like a swine. Forgive me? I can be a brute sometimes.”
His warm smile allayed all her previous misgivings and she relaxed. He went over to the grand piano, sat down and played several pieces of music.
“How clever you are.” She clapped enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you played so well.”
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” He turned away and stared at the piano keys.
She felt the strangest sensation flickering up her spine, almost as if he were warning her of impending disaster.
***
Over the next two days they explored every corner of the estate, Michael even confessing to having rediscovered things he hadn’t seen since boyhood. The only black cloud marring her horizon was the continued absence of Lord and Lady Guilford and one quite nasty incident with a young maid. The girl had been rude and belligerent when Melanie asked for extra bath water.
“Why don’t you get it yourself? We’re not paid to wait on the Master’s mistress.”
What a strange way of putting it. Not wanting to cause any trouble, she didn’t mention it to Michael. Maybe the girl waited only on Lady Guilford, that’s probably what she meant, but why be so horrible about it? The fact Melanie came from Australia, had an Irish name and a strange accent seemed to make matters worse. Even the lowliest English servant apparently considered Irish colonials to be a class beneath them.
When Michael left her to her own devices one morning, she strolled around the back garden. Four broad avenues ran diagonally from the house until they ended up at a massive stone archway topped with a pyramid. A lake shimmered in the distance. Michael presumably used this for fishing and boating in the warmer weather.
He returned at lunchtime, tense and agitated. “Melanie, I’m sorry, my sweet.” He kissed her hand. “Something urgent has come up. I have to go to London for a few days.”
“Do you want me to pack for us?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you with me. It’s best if you to wait at your friend’s place until I come back for you.”
“Do I have to?” she cried out, feeling suddenly distraught because he wouldn’t be there for her.
“Yes, I'd be frightfully worried if you stayed here on your own.”
She wouldn’t be alone, not with a house full of servants, but he seemed so concerned and anxious, she argued no further. Those previous doubts she had entertained before made her feel mean and petty. He did care.
“Such a big sigh, my love.”
“I’ll miss you so much. Ann and Peter have been kind, but it isn’t the same as being with you.”
“Melanie, you make me feel such a swine sometimes.”
“I don’t mean to.”
His laugh sounded forced. “You must pack at once. We have to leave here within the hour.”
He insisted she take all the new gowns with her. Strange how he didn’t want her to leave anything behind except for the pendant, which he locked away for safe keeping. After the wardrobe was cleared out, no one would ever know that she had stayed in the room.
On arrival at Ann’s, he thrust some money into her hand. At her protest he insisted she give it to Locksleys. He saw her to the door but refused to come in.
“Goodbye, Melanie.”
“Michael.” She threw herself into his arms. “Let me come with you.”
“No, it’s impossible, I’m sorry.”
“Please,” she beseeched, her eyes brimming with frightened tears.
“Oh, my sweet darling, don’t cry. I would take you with me if it were possible. We’ll be together again soon. I want you to promise me you’ll wait here until I come back for you.”
“I promise, but please hurry.”
He gave her one last lingering kiss before striding towards his carriage. With tears glistening on her lashes she watched him drive away.
The front door swung open and she almost fell into an astonished Peter’s arms. “Well, you are anxious to see me, Melanie.”
“Sorry.” She disentangled herself.
“You’ve been weeping. Did you argue with the Honorable Michael?” Peter asked. Sarcasm edged his concern.
“No, he’s gone away for a few days, so he brought me back here in case I got lonely at Greystones. Is it possible for me to stay?”
“You know it is. Ann will be glad as she’s missed your company. Now you’re back it might stop her nagging me.” Grimacing, he motioned a servant to collect her bag, and the trunks Michael had given her.
“Didn’t you only have one piece of luggage when you left?”
“Yes, but Michael bought me some beautiful gowns.” Bribery? A cynical little inward voice asked. Payment? If she didn’t stop thinking like this she would go completely mad. “Michael gave me some money for you.”
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows in derisive query.
“Yes, for my board and lodging,” she explained.
“It’s not necessary.” His half-hearted protest was in stark contrast to the eager way his hand shot out.
Ann met them in the hallway and hugged Melanie joyfully. “I’m glad to see you, but why are you back? No, don’t say anything now. Let’s have tea before you tell me everything. What did you think of the Guilfords?”
“I didn’t actually see them, they got called away urgently.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Ann dismissed the maid who brought in their tea. “Called away? Oh my God! You shouldn’t have stayed there without an adequate chaperone.”
Melanie nibbled her lower lip. “Michael said it wouldn’t be inappropriate. There were lots of servants.”
“It’s not the same. He should have known better. You could leave yourself open to vicious gossip if it ever got out. Besides, where was the Countess all this time?”
“In Paris.”
“Melanie, you’re not safe to let loose on your own.”
Tears filled her eyes at Ann’s tartness.
“I’m sorry, my dear, I’m fond of you and don't want to see you get hurt. Some women can assassinate your character with their gossip. I’ve seen it happen too many times before.”
Peter wandered into the room and on ove
rhearing their conversation butted in. “Just as well the Lord and Lady of the manor weren’t there to greet the little colonial girl of Irish descent. Oh, dear me, Lady Guilford would never allow it. Only the very best people are good enough to associate with her exalted son.”
Even Melanie laughed at the affectation Peter injected into his voice, but later in her bedroom, the words came back to haunt her. Only the best people, meaning high born, and she certainly wasn’t that. The aristocracy always married their own. How many times had she heard or read that. Doubt and fear gripped her in a stranglehold.
***
Days turned into weeks and still no word arrived from Michael. Melanie became frantic. Not only was she worried in case he might have met with an accident, but she was fairly certain, with her limited knowledge of such things that she carried his child. She had tender breasts, no monthly flow and a feeling of nausea on rising in the mornings.
Spring drifted into summer. As the days grew warmer, she spent most of her time going for long walks down the pretty country lanes, or in the wooded areas backing on to Peter’s property. Her skin was tanned to a light honey color from being out of doors so often, but when she glanced into the mirror her hollow cheeks gave her a wraithlike appearance. She told no one of her terrible predicament because Michael would come back for her as he promised. He must.
Ann anxiously fluttered about, offering all kinds of dainty treats to tempt her non-existent appetite. “You must eat something, my dear. You’ll get ill if you don’t.”
Things came to a head one evening in the sitting room. On standing Melanie felt the room sway, a mist rose up before her eyes and everything turned black. She regained consciousness to find Ann plying her with smelling salts.
“You’re fading away. He isn’t worth it. No man is.” Ann massaged her cold hands to bring back some warmth.
“I’ll take you over to Greystones tomorrow.” Peter carried her to the couch and peered anxiously into her face. “I’ll never understand women. After what he’s done, you’re pining away for him. Be glad. Michael Guilford isn’t for you. Any woman married to a cad like him would have a frightful time. They would have to contend with Lord and Lady Guilford as well.”
“Michael loves me.” But did he? The little voice of disquiet raised its ugly head as it had on several occasions before, adding to her turmoil.
“Tomorrow we’ll go over to Greystones and sort this out once and for all,” Peter promised.
Ann, Peter and Melanie left for Greystones early next morning. Peter decided to handle the carriage himself. It was pleasant driving along with the warm summer breeze gently fanning their faces. They packed a picnic lunch to eat on the way.
Greystones at last. The oak trees seemed even taller and more majestic than before. She felt a little thrill at being back here again.
A manservant came out to greet them. When Peter asked for Michael, they were informed he had embarked for the Crimean War.
Michael had gone to fight in a war? Melanie felt the color draining out of her face, and she slumped on to the step. She must have turned so white, Ann pushed her head down between her knees to stop her passing out.
“It can’t be true. It can’t be. Peter, ask if I can speak to Lady Guilford, tell the man it’s urgent. I have to contact Michael. Lady Guilford will have heard of me.”
The servant beckoned for them to enter, but left them standing in the great hall, much to Peter’s fury. His face turned red with rage. He was obviously not used to being treated in such a fashion.
The servant returned within a short time. “Her Ladyship has agreed to see you,” he said stiffly, beckoning them forward.
Peter insisted on coming in, too, fortunately as she was absolutely beyond walking in on her own. He held her arm in a supportive grip. “You look frightful, Melanie.”
“I feel terrible.”
The back view of Lady Guilford showed a slim, tall lady, dressed in brown silk, but when she swung around to face them, Melanie knew there would be no welcome here. The cold aristocratic face might have been hewn from a piece of white marble.
“I’m Melanie O’Dea, Your Ladyship. Michael would have spoken about me.”
“He has mentioned you once or twice.” Her frigid tone was as unbending as her stance.
“Once or twice? Lady Guilford, Michael loves me.”
“My son love the likes of you? Born in the colonies of Irish descent?” Her nostrils flared. “I have never heard anything so preposterous.”
Melanie clenched her hands at her sides. Why was Michael’s mother so antagonistic?
“The servant said Michael went to the Crimean War. It can’t be right, he promised to come and see me. He wouldn’t leave without saying a word. Are you sure he didn’t leave a message?” She was gabbling but had to make this horrible woman understand.
“Certainly not. My son, at the time of his departure to fight for queen and country, had more important things on his mind than the likes of you.”
The Countess chose that moment to sweep into the room. “I heard we had visitors asking for Michael. Have we met before?”
“Yes, at your last party, Countess.” Peter gave a slight bow.
“And you, Miss O’Dea.” Lady Guilford said with a cruel smile. “Have you met Michael’s wife?”
“Wife!”
Melanie woke to find herself lying on the floor.
Peter knelt beside her and frantically fanned her face with his handkerchief.
Groggily she sat up. “I misunderstood, didn’t I, Peter? Michael isn’t married to the Countess?”
“It’s true. I’m sorry, Melanie.”
“Get me out of here, please.” A maid came over with some liquid in a glass, but she turned her head away. “Help me up, Peter, please.”
Her voice sounded flat, lifeless. Just the way she felt. Michael had lied. Betrayed her trust, exploited her naivety. She should be screaming instead of rising slowly to her feet. Her eyes beseeched the two regal women to tell her it wasn’t true, he wasn’t really married. They remained silent, cold, uncaring of her distress.
“Get me out of here. Now,” she pleaded again.
Peter half carried her out of the room. The great hall leading to the outside door stretched for an eternity.
Melanie barely remembered the ride home, or Ann and a maid putting her to bed. After three days she knew it was useless prolonging the agony any more. She had to tell Ann of her condition and suffer the consequences of her own foolish behavior.
She summoned a maid to help her dress. Tottering out on to the terrace she found her friend sitting in the sun sewing embroidery.
Peter who never appeared to work, sat sprawled in a chair, with a drink in one hand.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Ann.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Want me to go?”
“It doesn’t matter, it affects you too.” She took several deep shuddering breaths, willing herself not to go into hysterics. “I’m carrying Michael’s child.”
Peter spluttered into his glass.
“Melanie, you aren’t?” Ann dropped her embroidery and the color drained from her face, leaving it ashen.
“It’s true. I’m sorry. I’ll leave straight away.”
“How could you do such a thing?” Ann wrung her hands. “It reflects badly on us, too.”
“Shut up. It isn’t her fault.” Peter stood up, his body rigid, his hand clenched around his glass. Melanie couldn’t believe he was defending her so staunchly. “Guilford tricked her. He’s an expert at seduction. What chance would an innocent little colonial girl have against a rake like him?”
“But, Peter….”
He waved his sister to silence. Even in her own misery, Melanie noticed that he now looked pale and agitated with perspiration beading his upper lip. Could this be more than her announcement?
“None of us can stay here,” he stated flatly.
“What did you say?” Ann’s voice rose.
He downed
his drink in a gulp and glanced around for the decanter. “We have a week to get out.”
“You’re drunk.”
“No I’m not, only wish I was. David Pendelbury owns this place now, lock, stock and barrel.”
“You lost our home?” Ann hit out at him, alternately screaming and moaning. “You promised me. You swore you would stop gambling.”
He pushed both hands behind her back and held her firm, moving his legs out of the way of her threshing feet. “I’m sorry. I did everything I could to get it back, but my luck ran out. I couldn’t do a thing right.”
A maid rushed in and Peter ordered tea for them. Ann collapsed into a chair and sobs shook her body. Melanie blinked back bitter tears. Why do these terrible things keep happening to me? Her presence had brought bad luck down on her friends as well. Had killed Robbie and James. Was she a jinx?
Ann berated her brother. “Where will we live? We’re destitute.”
“You still own grandfather’s hunting lodge.”
“Isn’t that lodge out in the middle of nowhere? Snowbound in winter?”
“It’s quite comfortable. There’s a village only a mile or so away. I still have some investments to cash in, but that will take time. Later on we could go to Paris. Remember Aunt Helen? She’s a widow and quite wealthy. How often has she begged us to visit? We’re her only living relatives.”
“I hope everything turns out for you both,” Melanie interrupted. At least they had some hope of a future. She had nothing to look forward to except poverty and degradation. “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble. I’ll go and pack.”
“Don’t go, Melanie,” Ann pleaded. “I acted beastly before, it wasn’t your fault. We need each other more than ever now. I couldn’t stay in that lodge without another woman, and you need somewhere to live.”
Ann kissed Melanie on the cheek, and they hugged each other.
A Wicked Deception Page 17