by Penny Jordan
‘You want a child—an heir. For Aldo,’ Giselle guessed. With every word Saul had uttered she had become more and more revolted by what she was hearing, by Saul’s assumption that she would allow any child, never mind her own child, to be used as a living pawn, forced into a life they might not want out of a misguided sense of duty to a family tradition which in Giselle’s eyes had no place in modern society.
The strength of those feelings overwhelmed her guilt and despair for herself. What Saul wanted to propose ran counter to everything she had believed about him, the democratic beliefs she had thought they shared. Her fury at his betrayal was every bit as strong as though he had betrayed her with another woman, and her voice was filled with angry passion and contempt as she told Saul, ‘Even if I wanted to have a child I would never agree to having one because you feel you owe it to Aldo. I would never sacrifice my child on the altar of your deathbed promise to your cousin, trapping him or her into such a set role even before they are conceived, never mind born. I won’t agree, Saul. Not because I don’t want children, but because I could never agree to…to the sacrifice of any child into a life of such rigidity that they can never be free to make their own choices.’
Tears of angry disappointment at him and his values blurred her vision, turning Saul into a tall dark shape whose expression she could not see. She could guess how he was looking, though. He would be staring at her with the same grim hostility she had seen in his eyes the first time they had met and she had stolen his parking spot. Then she had been the one morally at fault, but this time that position was his. She wanted to cry with grief, but she wasn’t going to go back on what she had said. She couldn’t.
‘I don’t want to talk about this any more,’ she told Saul. ‘In fact I couldn’t. I dare say I have made you angry, Saul, but you have disappointed me. I’ve come to accept that there is something in your blood and in your inheritance that means a part of you is claimed by this country and your role in it, but I will not accept or agree to having any part in creating a child because you feel you owe it to Aldo to do so.’
As she hurried past him, intent on escaping, Saul stepped in front of her, his hands locking round her wrists as she raised her hands to push him off, imprisoning her. And then, to her disbelief, Saul bent his head and kissed her—not gently or carefully, but with raw fierce emotion, leaning back against the closed door, ruthlessly dragging her with him, so that she was forced to lean against his body for support or risk losing her balance.
Angrily she fought the domination of his kiss, trying to close her lips against the thrust of his tongue, trying to deny her body its immediate and willing response to the feel of his against it, trying to force back her tears, her emotions, her love for him, until in the end she felt her only means of defiance was to kiss him back as fiercely and passionately as he was kissing her. Sexual intimacy could, after all, express things other than mutual love and desire; it could express bitterness, and contempt, and rage, a desire to hurt and destroy, a desire to…
‘How could you think such a thing of me?’ Saul was demanding against her lips, his hands clasping the sides of her face now. ‘How could you believe that I would ever force any human being, much less a child, into a life they had not chosen for themselves? I could be angry about that, Giselle, but your passionate defence of the values that are so very important to me makes that impossible. I have no intention of us creating a child to assuage the guilt I feel over Aldo. That wasn’t what I was planning to discuss with you at all.’
Giselle could feel herself shaking. She needed the support of his body now, seeking it as a form of haven from the turmoil of her emotions and the effect they were having on her own flesh. ‘Then what were you going to say?’ she asked Saul.
She felt his chest lift and then fall as he breathed in and then exhaled.
‘What I wanted—still want—to discuss with you is your opinion on my wish that we turn this country into a proper democracy. When Aldo asked me to promise that I would do everything I could for his country I know that was not what he had in mind, but sometimes loving something or someone means giving them their freedom, respecting their ability to make their own choices, furnishing them with the tools to make those choices. What I want to give the people of this country is not an heir but the right and ability to govern themselves. I want ultimately to be able to abolish the role of hereditary ruler and the title that goes with it, and of course one of the best ways in which we can do that is by not having a child.
‘This country could be our child, our hostage to fate, Giselle. If we want that. We could protect it and guide it and love it, and eventually watch it grow to maturity and an ability to continue on its journey without us, secure in the knowledge that we have provided it with the tools, the education, the love to make that journey with confidence and skill. If it is my destiny to be here in Aldo’s place then I shall also make it my destiny to give this country the very best gift I can give to it. But I need your support for that. I need your commitment to the work that it will entail, and I need your assurance that you will not change your mind about our mutual decision not to have a child.’
Tears filled Giselle’s eyes and rolled down her face until they met the barrier of Saul’s hands. Very gently he smoothed them away.
‘You are wonderful, Saul. Truly noble and…and visionary. Of course I’ll support you. You know I will. I can’t think of anything I’d want to support more than what you are planning.’
‘And your assurance? Do I have that as well? It’s important, Giselle, because there is bound to be pressure from the old guard here. If we don’t have a child then they won’t have a prospective heir on which to hang their arguments for maintaining the status quo.’
‘You have my assurance,’ Giselle promised him. How she had managed to be so lucky she didn’t know, but whatever the cause of her release from the torment she had been suffering she was grateful to it. ‘I love your plans for a democracy, but you’ll face an awful lot of opposition from Aldo’s ministers and courtiers,’ she warned Saul.
‘I like opposition,’ he responded with a glint in his eyes. ‘You of all people should know that. Remember how you fought against me?’
‘Since I had to fight against you, and against wanting you, it was no wonder I lost. And in losing I won the greatest prize of all,’ Giselle said softly.
Later that day, sitting on the rug they had spread out on the sun-warmed sand of a tiny lakeside bay, with Saul lying stretched out, his head pillowed on her lap, Giselle thought that this day—this afternoon, this minute of time—must be the happiest she had ever had. Her guilt had been lifted from her, to float away as easily and lightly as the small white clouds high above them in the blue sky, and the perfection of their surroundings echoed the perfection of their love and her happiness in it.
There was nothing for her to fear any more, nothing that could hurt her now. She need not worry any longer about what she had been too afraid to tell Saul because it no longer mattered. She was safe. Their love was safe, and would remain safe for ever.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO MONTHS LATER, AS she sat staring at the calendar on her desk, Giselle wondered bleakly how she could ever have been foolish enough to believe that she would escape so easily.
She desperately wanted—no, needed to believe that she was completely and totally wrong in her suspicions, but the calendar could not lie and neither could her body. The first month she had simply assumed that the frightening and unwanted suspension of the familiar regular rhythm of her periods had been caused by the stress and the turmoil of their lives following the shocking news of Aldo’s death. But now she had missed a second period as well.
Initially, when her period had not materialised, she had told herself that it was silly to worry since after all she was losing weight, if anything, not gaining it. Nor had she been sick at all—apart from the time she had felt so desperately nauseous when they had first arrived in the country, and that had been caused by the effects
of Aldo’s death, a long-haul flight, and her fears about the future.
She had certainly not experienced any other changes in her body that she might have attributed to pregnancy. But would she have deliberately ignored them had they manifested themselves? No, she insisted to herself, because she had not had them.
She knew that she hadn’t missed a single birth pill, and after missing that first period she had dismissed the entire matter from her thoughts. Or at least she had tried to pretend to herself that she had. However, as the due date for the start of her next period had grown closer her stomach had started to churn with anxiety. And now that date had come and gone—over a week ago—and still nothing had happened. There was a cold lump of fear and disbelief lodged in the pit of her stomach. She remembered that bout of nausea, and the fact that sickness could eliminate the effectiveness of the birth control pill. But surely she could not be pregnant? Fate could not be so cruel when it knew that she must not be pregnant. Not only because of the secret fear she carried inside her head, but also because Saul had made it clear that they could not have a child.
She had given him her promise that they would not, not knowing then that it was already too late and she had already conceived. Might have conceived, she corrected herself. She had no proof that she had other than her fear caused by the fact that she had now missed two periods. She didn’t feel pregnant, and she certainly didn’t want to be pregnant. But what if she was? She needed to know. She needed to find out the truth—and that could not be done here in Arezzio, where they lived in a closed community in which there still lived a doctor with the title of Royal Court Physician. A bubble of tormented anxiety tried to turn into hysterical panicky laughter in her throat, only for her to ruthlessly suppress it.
She could not carry on like this, not knowing—like a terrified teenager, unable to face the potential consequences of an unwanted pregnancy. These days, though, most modern teenagers were probably far more aware and responsible than she was being, Giselle told herself. She was the one who had been naïve, who had been trying to bury her head in the sand and wanting the whole situation to simply go away. She couldn’t do that any longer, though. Not now. She must find out the truth and if necessary act on it.
For that she needed the anonymity of a big city— London—with medical facilities that would enable her to find out the truth discreetly. And just as discreetly to make arrangements to bring an end to any unwanted pregnancy? Giselle shuddered.
Because she had always assumed that she would never be pregnant she had never given much thought to the termination of pregnancy, other than to feel sorry for those women who for one reason or another felt it necessary to go through with it. Such a prospect had always seemed distant from her—the kind of awful decision she would never have to make. But now she might have to. That thought only increased her fear and despair.
She felt so afraid and vulnerable that she wanted desperately to cling to Saul, be protected by his presence. But that wasn’t possible. Saul could not protect her from what she might be facing. She needed to go to London.
She brought up the subject over lunch—a quick salad and sandwich affair, eaten in the courtyard whilst she and Saul went over the progress being made with the orphanage, and other problems still to be dealt with.
‘I could do with a few days in London—to collect some more of my clothes and then to go up to Yorkshire to see my great-aunt,’ she told Saul as casually as she could. ‘There’s no need for you to come with me.’
‘I need to set up some meetings in London myself. I can deal with most of my work involving the business here, but I do need to see some people it will be easier to meet up with in London,’ Saul responded—so easily that her deceit was even more painful to bear. ‘So we might as well go together.’
Dry-mouthed, Giselle nodded her head. She dared not insist that she wanted to go on her own. That was bound to have Saul asking her more questions than she could answer—especially when normally she always wanted them to do things together.
They flew into London by private jet two days later, and Giselle had to struggle to conceal her relief when Saul asked, when they sat together in the back of their chauffeur-driven car as it left Heathrow for the city, if Giselle would mind going to their Chelsea house without him. He wanted to be dropped off at the office, so that he could get straight to work there.
‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ Saul told her. ‘Shall we eat out tonight? I’ll get Moira to book us a table somewhere. Is there anywhere you’d prefer?’
‘No, you choose,’ Giselle told him. Inwardly, all she could really think about was her need to buy herself a pregnancy testing kit—and the sooner the better. She didn’t want to ask the driver to drop her off at the nearest chemist, and she couldn’t even risk using a chemist local to their Chelsea home, just in case she was recognised.
Saul’s smile and brief kiss as he got out of the car outside the block that housed his company’s offices, and his promise not to be any longer than necessary before joining her, only increased her desperation and misery. If only she could just close her eyes and then open them again to find that all this was just a horrible, horrible nightmare, and that in reality she was safe, and she wasn’t pregnant at all. She might not be, after all. There was nothing yet to prove that she was.
Nothing except those two missed periods, Giselle reminded herself grimly.
After the chauffeur had dropped her off she went into the house, quickly checking that the concierge service they used had stocked the fridge, and ensuring that everything was ready for them to spend a few nights there—the beds freshly made up with the Egyptian cotton sheets that Saul insisted on, towels in the bathroom, and a supply of their favourite toiletries. Then she hurried out again, taking the tube to Oxford Street with its anonymous crowds, and hesitating apprehensively by the entrance to a large nationwide chemist store before going in.
It was easy enough to find what she was looking for. In fact the choice of pregnancy testing kits was so large that it overwhelmed her at first, confusing her as she picked up one pack and then another, her fingers semi-numb with nerves as she tried to read the instructions. She wanted one that she could use immediately, which would show her equally immediately whether or not she was pregnant. In the end, because she was taking so long and because she felt so self-conscious, she quickly picked up three different kits and put them into her basket, moving further down the shelves to add a tube of toothpaste and some other toiletries to cover the kits as she headed for the tills—just in case she saw anyone she knew. She recognised that she was probably overreacting. That was what guilt did to you. It made you feel hyper-aware of danger and hyper-sensitive to your own fear.
It wasn’t the crowds and dusty traffic-fume-filled air of the city that made her break out into a sweat as she stepped back out onto Oxford Street, Giselle knew. It was her own fear and dread. The sudden ring of her mobile made her freeze, and her hands trembled when she saw that it was Saul who was calling her.
‘I thought we’d have dinner at that place on Berkeley Street, seeing as it’s one of your favourites,’ he told her, mentioning an expensive and exclusive London restaurant. ‘But it’s going to be at least an hour before I can get back home.’
‘That’s all right,’ Giselle managed to answer as she gripped the phone tightly.
‘What’s all that noise?’ Saul asked, obviously able to hear the sound of the traffic and other people on the street.
‘Oh, nothing. I’ve had to come out and get some orange juice for the morning. The concierge people had forgotten to get some in for us.’
‘I’ll see you in an hour,’ Saul repeated, before ending the call.
An hour. Giselle felt as though her whole body was bathed in apprehensive sweat as she hurried down into the underground.
The rush hour had begun and the train was packed, the heat in the packed carriage making her feel light-headed and faintly sick. Maybe this was it. Maybe her period was going to start. Giselle
prayed that it might, fighting back her nausea, wincing inwardly at the sight of a heavily pregnant woman seated in front of her, desperate to look away from her. She was thankful when she was finally able to exit the underground and make her way back up into slightly fresher air.
Despite hurrying, and ending up with a stitch in her side from walking so fast, it still took her nearly half an hour from speaking to Saul to get back to the Chelsea house. Once she got inside she leaned against the closed door, welcoming the cool silence. Her head was throbbing and all she wanted to do was have a shower and then lie down—but she couldn’t. She had to do the tests first.
In the master bedroom she read the instructions on the first pack she had removed from the chemist’s bag and then went into the bathroom.
Two minutes later, as she waited for the result, she was so nervous and shaking so much that she could hardly focus on the line in front of her as it relentlessly gave her the news she didn’t want and had dreaded receiving. She was pregnant.
Frantically she repeated the procedure with both the other two tests, hoping against hope for a different result and falling further into despair when those hopes were dashed. She was still staring at the third telltale line when she heard the front door open, followed by Saul’s voice calling up to her.
‘I’m home.’
Appalled, Giselle looked at the wrappings she had strewn on the bathroom floor. There was nowhere to hide them, so in the end she gathered them up and simply stuffed them hurriedly into her handbag, along with the results, forcing it closed just in time as Saul walked into the bedroom, shrugging off the jacket of his suit as he did so.