Marriage at a Distance (Presents, 2093)

by Sara Craven

  Wherever he is, he has it with him, she concluded.

  As she descended the stairs the front door opened and a man came in, his figure a dark outline against the pale wintry sunlight flooding into the hall. Joanna checked instantly, a hand flying to her throat.

  Caught in the act, she thought sickly. And no way out. She’d have to try and bluff.

  He kicked the door shut behind him, blocking out the concealing sunlight, and she saw who it really was.

  A gasp, half-relief, half-incredulity, escaped her.

  ‘Gabriel.’

  ‘Yes.’ He stood hands on hips, looking up at her, the dark face inimical. ‘I was just leaving Sylvia’s house when I saw you drive up. I couldn’t believe it. You’re bruised from head to foot, but you still can’t keep away from him.’ He looked past her. ‘Where have you left him—in bed?’

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘I think that’s my line.’ Suddenly he looked very weary, his mouth set in bitter lines. ‘Jo, he’s no bloody good. I suppose I’d be bound to say that—but in his case it’s true. My poor love, he’s a con man. He’s setting you up.’

  ‘Wrong.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s knocking me down. Gabriel, when I met him on the hill yesterday he was wearing a cream silk scarf. And when I was on the ground he was right there, beside me. But he didn’t try to help. He just—left me there.’

  ‘But why should he do that?’ The amber eyes narrowed.

  She said quietly, ‘You thought there was something between us. There never was. I—I just let you think so.’

  ‘And did he think so too?’ The question was rapped at her.

  Joanna nodded miserably. ‘But I let him know at once that I wasn’t interested. Only he—took some convincing, and he wasn’t pleased.’

  Gabriel said grimly, ‘I could almost feel sorry for the bastard. Go on.’

  She moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘When he saw me coming on Nutkin, he must have hidden among the rocks and flown the scarf at us. He knew what scared Nutkin. He was the only one who did.’ Or almost, she amended silently.

  Gabriel said softly, ‘And he’s now forfeited my sympathy for all eternity. I think I might kill him.’

  ‘No,’ she said, urgently. ‘Gabriel—please. You mustn’t touch him. You were right. He isn’t worth it. And he’s going.’

  ‘If you know all this—what he’s capable of—why did you come here? Why did you take the risk?’

  ‘I wanted to find the scarf. To prove that it could have happened the way I said.’

  ‘I already knew that. You were so insistent that I went up to the Hermitage and looked among the rocks. It was muddy, and he’d left some man-size footprints.’ He looked round. ‘So, if he’s not here, where’s he gone?’

  She hesitated fatally. ‘I—don’t know.’

  ‘Joanna,’ he said gently, ‘don’t lie to me. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not to protect that piece of scum.’

  It’s you I’m trying to protect, she wanted to shout at him. Because if my suspicions are right, you’re going to be so desperately hurt. And I can’t bear it…

  Aloud, she said, ‘I mean—I can’t be sure.’

  He said, ‘Then let’s go and make sure,’ and opened the front door. ‘We’ll take my car.’

  ‘But you don’t know where we’re going,’ she protested as she preceded him out of the Lodge.

  He said, ‘Ah, but I do.’ And his voice was colder than ice.

  Larkspur Cottage looked deserted too, but Cynthia’s car was parked in the lean-to garage.

  Gabriel’s face looked as if it had been chiselled from marble. Joanna ached for him as they went up the path.

  She said in a whisper, ‘Suppose the door is locked this time.’

  ‘I have a key.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said bravely. ‘I—I’d forgotten.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Gabriel, we don’t have to do this.’

  He said almost gently, ‘Yes, Joanna, we do have to.’ He fitted the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened noiselessly and they stepped into the flagged hall. There was an oak chest against one wall, and across it was lying a black leather coat—and a cream silk scarf.

  Joanna bit her lip until she could taste blood. She supposed that for Gabriel’s sake she’d been praying it wasn’t true. That she’d added two and two and come up with millions. She hardly dared look at him.

  She could hear the distant murmur of voices coming from upstairs, and Cynthia’s unmistakable giggle.

  He said, ‘Go and wait in the car, Jo.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Her voice was breathless. ‘Nothing silly—or dangerous—promise me?’

  ‘I’ll do what’s necessary.’ He turned her quietly and firmly towards the door.

  She stood outside for a moment, gulping cold air into her lungs, then went down the path. As she was getting into the car she thought she heard a muffled shriek, then a distant crash, and realised she was shaking.

  It seemed like an eternity before Gabriel came out of the cottage and joined her in the car. He was walking normally, and she couldn’t see any bloodstains, although the knuckles on one hand looked sore.

  She said, ‘Well?’

  ‘Gordon’s going back to London tomorrow. Your stepmother will be leaving too.’ He started the car.

  She said, ‘I see.’ She hesitated. ‘Has—has it been going on long?’

  ‘She’s known him for years. It seems he was some kind of toy boy.’ His voice was flat. ‘The relationship has been on an on-off basis ever since.’

  ‘Even while she was married to my father?’ Joanna felt sick.

  ‘I would guess as much.’

  She bit her lip. ‘They—they must care about each other—if he came down here especially to be with her.’

  Gabriel’s mouth hardened. ‘That wasn’t entirely the reason.’

  The dark face was so forbidding she didn’t dare ask anything more.

  What a fool Cynthia was, she thought, to risk her future for a liaison with someone as worthless as Paul Gordon.

  She couldn’t even guess at how Gabriel must be feeling, but the sense of betrayal had to be acute.

  He must wish that neither of us had ever come near the Manor, she thought wretchedly. But at least she could relieve him of her own presence.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Sylvia and Charles have asked me to stay with them for a little while. I—I’d like to do that.’

  There was a silence, then he said, ‘That might be best. Do you want to come back to the Manor and get your things?’

  ‘I’ll do that later.’ There was a hard, icy lump in her chest. As she’d suspected, he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

  Joanna lifted her chin and tried to speak normally. ‘if you could drop me at the Lodge, I’ll pick up my car and check with Sylvia that it’s convenient for me to arrive today.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be.’ His mouth twisted. ‘She always seems to have a room made up for waifs and strays.’

  It wasn’t a description she relished, she thought, biting her lip. But it probably summed up the situation with fair accuracy.

  Sylvia’s welcome was warm, and mercifully devoid of awkward questions.

  It was late afternoon before Joanna felt able to give her a brief and stilted account of what had happened. Sylvia listened with pursed lips.

  ‘Well, it explains his lifestyle, I suppose,’ she commented. ‘But very little else. What possessed her to allow him down here? Didn’t she realise how Gabriel would react?’

  Joanna bent her head unhappily. ‘Perhaps she thought she wouldn’t be found out.’

  ‘Well, Charles has been down to the Lodge, and the place has been cleared out. The enterprising Mr Gordon has slung his hook,’ she added inelegantly. ‘Off to look for another woman with more money than sense, no doubt.’

  ‘You don’t think he’ll stay with Cynthia?’

  ‘Not since the blow to her financial prospects.’ Sylvia shook her head. ‘O
f course, I never approved of what Gabriel was planning. I think this whole debacle has saved him a lot of problems in the future.’

  But I doubt if he sees it that way, Joanna thought drearily.

  ‘May I ring the Manor?’ she asked after a moment. ‘I’d like Grace to pack me a bag.’

  ‘Of course, dear. And I’ll see about some tea.’

  Joanna dialled the familiar number, and waited. It rang several times before the receiver was lifted at the other end and a voice she hadn’t expected to hear again, said, ‘Westroe Manor. Cynthia Elcott speaking.’

  ‘Cynthia?’ Incredulity and dismay jostled in Joanna’s mind. ‘What are you doing there?’

  Cynthia laughed unpleasantly. ‘Come off it, sweetie. Did you think you were going to get rid of me that easily? Surely not. I’m here to kiss and make up with Gabriel.’

  ‘You really believe he’ll forgive you?’

  ‘Why not? He’s a man of the world—and the pot can hardly call the kettle black. After all, I turned a blind eye to his little diversion with you the other night. I knew he’d be expecting me, and I was right. He’s even arranged it so that we have the house to ourselves, without you behaving like the skeleton at the feast. Wasn’t that tactful of him?’

  She paused. ‘What do you want, anyway?’

  ‘I wanted to arrange to fetch some clothes.’

  ‘All taken care of, darling. Gabriel told Mrs Ashby to pack everything up, and her husband’s bringing it all across to you.’

  ‘Everything?’ Joanna asked, dry-mouthed.

  ‘All your treasured possessions. I don’t think he wants you to have any excuse to call round.’ She laughed again. ‘So make sure you take the hint and stay away from now on. Pretty please?’

  And Joanna heard the phone go down.

  ‘It’s no good,’ Joanna said firmly. ‘I have to start looking for somewhere to live.’

  Sylvia sighed. ‘I don’t think you should rush into anything. You’ve only been here a week, and you’re still looking peaky,’ she said sternly, surveying Joanna as if she was a plant that had failed to bloom. ‘Don’t forget that nasty attack of delayed shock you had on the day you arrived.’

  Joanna gave a constricted smile. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’ It had been the only excuse she could think of when Sylvia had returned with the tea and found her stretched out on the sofa, weeping broken-heartedly and unable to stop, she recalled ruefully.

  She still cried, but only into her pillow at night. During the daytime she managed to put a brave face on things.

  Her luggage had duly arrived, and, as Cynthia had said, nothing had been forgotten. She’d seen Sylvia and Charles exchanging astonished looks as Mr Ashby carried the cases into the hall.

  For the first few days she’d jumped each time the phone rang, wondering if it might be Gabriel calling to offer some explanation, or at least to say goodbye.

  But as time went by without a word from him she realised there was nothing to hope for. And how could she complain? She was the one who’d demanded the clean break originally.

  But I didn’t mean it, she thought desolately. He’d hurt me, and I wanted to hurt him back. To make him think I was over him. That I didn’t care any more. When, in reality, not a day passed that I didn’t think about him and want him back at any price.

  And now I’ve lost him for ever.

  Sometimes she wondered if Charles and Sylvia had heard about Cynthia’s triumphant return. Certainly there was no hint from either of them that they knew she was installed as mistress at the manor.

  No doubt they would come to terms with the situation in their own way. And it would ease things if Joanna was no longer around to divide their loyalties from Gabriel.

  The problem was that she had no idea where she wanted to go.

  Somewhere with hills, and sky, she thought, where early primroses grow in sheltered hollows. Somewhere I can walk, and ride, and heal myself. And learn, somehow, to forget.

  The next morning, at breakfast, there was a letter for her from Henry Fortescue.

  There were papers for her to sign, regarding the financial settlement she had agreed with Gabriel. Perhaps she would telephone him to make the necessary appointment.

  He was his usual friendly, businesslike self when she rang.

  ‘Not tomorrow morning, I’m afraid,’ he said, when she diffidently suggested a time. ‘I shall be at the Manor for the discussions with the Furnival Hotels representatives.’ He paused. ‘No doubt you’re aware of their interest?’

  ‘Yes.’ She kept her voice steady.

  ‘But I shall be free after lunch. Shall we say three p.m. at my office?’

  She agreed quietly, and rang off. So the final chapter in Westroe Manor’s history was about to be written, she thought unhappily. And Cynthia’s victory was complete and entire.

  The next day she told Charles and Sylvia she was going out, ostensibly to make contact with a firm of estate agents in Westroe with branches all over the country.

  In reality, she drove up onto the hill, parked the car at the small plantation, which was a gathering point for ramblers, and walked the mile along the ridge to the Hermitage.

  One last look, she vowed. And perfectly safe, because everyone at the house would be busy at the meeting.

  It was milder today, and sunny, with a gentle breeze that murmured among the stones. She unbuttoned her coat as she leaned back against one of the rocks.

  ‘Joanna.’

  For a moment she thought she was fantasising. Hearing Gabriel’s voice in the song of the breeze. She looked slowly round and saw him, standing a few yards away, his hands thrust into his coat pockets, his dark hair ruffled by the wind.

  She said wildly, ‘You—what are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to find you.’

  ‘But you didn’t know I was here,’ she protested. ‘You couldn’t have done. I didn’t tell a soul.’

  He said quietly, ‘But I knew just the same. As I’ve always known.’

  She was burning up with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you’d be tied up in your meeting.’

  Gabriel shook his head. ‘I cancelled it.’

  ‘Cancelled?’ she echoed dazedly. ‘But why?’

  ‘Because I realised I wasn’t prepared to let it go,’ he said. ‘Not while there was the remotest chance I could still make the life I’d dreamed of become a reality.’

  She’d hoped for this change of heart, so why couldn’t she rejoice in it?

  She said steadily, ‘And can it come true?’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘depends on the woman I love.’

  She swallowed. ‘I suppose you’ve—talked to her about it?’

  ‘No. Communications between us seem to have broken down.’

  In other words, Cynthia didn’t want to know, she thought sadly.

  She tried a pitiful attempt at a smile. ‘Then perhaps you ought to find another dream.’

  ‘Not easy. I’ve carried this one with me for too long. Cherished it through some bitter times. Clung to it when there seemed no hope at all.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not going to give it up, no matter how long it stays just a dream.’

  ‘Then talk to her.’ She forced the words out somehow. ‘Tell her how you feel.’

  ‘I’m scared, Joanna. Scared of screwing up again. I thought I could let her go. I wanted to—but I can’t. She’s in my blood—in my bones. Without her, there’s no life at all.’

  She said hoarsely, raggedly, ‘Don’t tell me these things—please. I can’t bear any more…’ There were tears in her throat, scalding her, choking her. ‘Oh, God, I should never have come here.’

  His voice was suddenly fierce. ‘You came here for the same reason that I did. Because you couldn’t keep away. Because you needed to find me.’

  ‘No.’ There were tears on her face now, burning their way into her skin. ‘No, you mustn’t say that. I won’t listen.’

  ‘I’ll make you liste
n. Wherever you go, I’ll come after you. Whatever you do, I’ll be there. Because without you I’m incomplete.’

  He threw back his head. His face looked hunted, vulnerable. ‘I’ve tried so hard to do the right thing, Jo—to give you the freedom you’ve never had. That’s why I overruled Lionel’s will.’

  He sighed. ‘He wanted us to get back together so badly. He thought if you had to stay in the house, maybe some miracle would happen. But then I saw the effect it was having on you, and I knew I had to release you.

  ‘I wanted you to be independent—to live your life on your own terms. At the same time I hoped, if I was patient, that some day in the future you’d find room for me there.

  ‘But I can’t let you go, Joanna. I’m too selfish—and too frightened. I’m terrified you’ll meet some nice guy who’ll never give you a moment’s grief, and that you’ll settle down with him and be content. But he’ll never take you to the heights, Jo. He’ll never think his way into your mind, or uplift your soul. And when you’re lost, he won’t know where to look. And he’ll never love you as I do.’

  She pressed herself against the rock, her whole body shaking.

  ‘Cynthia,’ she whispered. ‘You love Cynthia. You talked about her. About marrying again.’

  ‘Cynthia,’ he said, slowly and clearly, ‘is a poisonous bitch. She always was and always will be. Lionel saw it from the start. That’s why he put on the pressure for us to marry, because he was worried about the kind of influence she might exert on you. But, whatever she was planning in that tortuous brain of hers, my sole aim has been to get her out of our lives, no matter what the cost. That’s why I let her take whatever furnishings she fancied. I thought she’d get fed up with living at the cottage and move on, without the necessity of a big showdown.’

  ‘But she came back to the Manor that afternoon. I spoke to her on the telephone.’

  ‘Oh, yes, she came back.’ His voice was rough. ‘She seemed to be expecting some kind of pay-off, as an inducement for her to leave us in peace. I showed her the error of her ways, and subsequently the door. I suspect we’ve seen the last of her, and her revolting boyfriend.’