by Jane Corrie
It was certainly not the time to recall his visit to her last night, but she did, and she was forced to get up quickly and pick up her half finished cup of
coffee, remarking as brightly as she was able, 'I think I'd better go and open the post for you—in case there's anything urgent,' she gabbled, seeing the slight lift of his autocratic brows at this rush on her part to get on with the day's work. Not giving him a chance to order her to stay put, she was out of the dining room and heading for the office as if the hounds of hell were on her trail.
When the morning's office work had been attended to, Mark suggested taking her on a tour of the hotel in order to show her the changes he had in mind, and to see whether she approved of his choice of decor. Although Jenny said nothing, the thought struck her that it was a little late in the day for any such approval, as work was well in hand, and if she had not approved, there was nothing that could be done about it
It was, she acknowledged silently, just another way of showing her that he considered her part and parcel of his belongings, and that she belonged by his side. It was not so much that he really cared about her opinion, as Malcolm would have done, anxiously pointing out what changes he thought would be beneficial, and awaiting her approval. She sighed inwardly. Once she had taken it all for granted, not fully realising the unique position she was in—unique and honoured, she thought wretchedly, accepting Malcolm's adoration as her due, yet not realising that it was adoration—and she hadn't had the sense to see it.
By now the work on the first floor had been completed, and Jenny felt a little sad when she found
that the original oak panelling that had been destroyed by the fire had not been replaced—and it could have been, she thought bleakly. It was not as if Mark was short of money, he could well have afforded to replace it, if not with oak, then with a replica of the original wood.
Her gaze lingered on the new white panelling of the corridor with its sculptured ceiling, and could find no fault with it, so it was unreasonable of her not to approve, but somehow she could find nothing to say about it, although she sensed Mark was waiting for some comment from her. In the end she just nodded in a generally approving way, and she knew by the tightening of his lips that he had sensed her true thoughts on the matter.
They then moved on and inspected the rooms. Here again, Jenny could find no fault in his taste of furnishings and decor, but still the sadness was there. It was if she were being shown over one of his other hotels, one that she had never seen before, and her sadness grew as she realised that soon the home she had known would no longer hold any memories for her. It was all being slowly but surely erased.
Her heart was even heavier as she envisaged what would be done to her rooms. After what she had seen there was absolutely no possibility of leaving them as they were. Not unless he wanted them to remain as museum pieces to show what the hotel had once looked like.
Jenny might have found things easier to take had she not noticed Mark's quiet air of satisfaction as their tour continued. He might be displeased with
her reaction to the changes, but it did not apparently detract from his pleasure, and the feeling gradually grew on her that there was a personal element involved.
It did not take long for her to get the answer. He wanted to erase not only the old Peacock's Walk, but all the memories that went with it I Hers, as well as his. She gulped when the realisation hit her. The fire had been a good excuse to get on with his plans, and it hadn't really made any difference, just gave him an earlier start. It wasn't only Peacock's Walk either, she mused unhappily, it was Malcolm, too, this was his way of wanting to erase Malcolm from their life for once and for all.
Remembering her earlier desperate attempts to convince him that there had been nothing between Malcolm and herself, Jenny saw little hope of succeeding now. The only hope lay in his love for her, because he did love her, a love tinged with a bitterness that impinged on hate, and somehow she had to reach through to him.
It wouldn't be today, or tomorrow, she thought sadly, but at some future date, when the bitterness had subsided, and he was able to accept her love without reservation, or recollection of what had gone before.
A short while later they were strolling in the grounds. These too were going to be altered, he told her, explaining how he had decided to have a rock fountain pool built on the lawns facing the hotel entrance.
As before Jenny listened, now with a dull ac-
ceptance of what was to be. A pool such as he was describing would -certainly enhance the scene, but try as she might she could not work up any enthusiasm about it. One day, perhaps, when and if things worked out for them, she would be able to appreciate the scene.
If Jenny had thought she was now immune to any other changes, she soon found she was mistaken. They had now covered the front of the house, and were looking at the back. This was Jenny's place of childhood memories, the old swing that hung from the huge oak tree at the end of the kitchen garden, and the woods behind. Woods that she had played in sometimes with children staying at the hotel, and sometimes with Malcolm, for although that much older than her, he was not averse to playing a game of Cowboys and Indians with her for her amusement.
Until now she hadn't remembered that she had once visualised her children playing with that swing, and darting round the trees in the wood beyond, for such had been her daydreams during her courting days. She had never been clear whether she would still be actually staying there, or whether she and Mark would be visiting Malcolm, and that just went to show, she thought bitterly, how very naïve she had been.
When Mark began to unfold his future plans for this section, Jenny did not think she could take any more, and knew that when he got to the area behind the kitchen garden she would either break
down or scream at him, and that would be disastrous from both their points of view.
In the event, fate intervened in the form of one of the workmen, who appeared from the rear of the house with a message for Mark. 'We'll be starting on the office walls tomorrow, guv'nor, and that safe will have to be moved: We're not sure where we ought to put it, though.'
Mark turned to Jenny, who was saying a silent thank-you for the interruption that had given her time to pull herself together. 'Anything valuable in it?' he queried. 'I confess it's a little too antiquated for my liking. I was going to have it thrown out. There's nothing of mine in there.'
Jenny narrowed her eyes in thought. She hadn't used it either. All valuables had been locked away in the desk in the office, but her father had used it, so had Malcolm. 'Only a few old files, and some personal papers of my father's,' she answered slowly. 'Nothing of much importance, though.'
Mark nodded, and spoke to the waiting man. Put it in the annexe next to the reception. I'll get it moved from there tomorrow.' He looked at his watch. 'About time you knocked off, isn't it?' he commented with a smile. 'Leave it for now. We'll have to get our equipment out before you start anyway.
'I think we'll call it a day, too,' he remarked to
Jenny. 'Let's see if Mrs Cherry has got our tea ready.'
As Jenny walked beside him back to the house,
something was niggling at the back of her mind—
something important. Then she had it, and the
knowledge made her suddenly stumble in her stride as she missed a step.
Only Mark's steadying hand on her arm saved her from a fall, but she was too full of her discovery to notice or thank him. The words `nothing of importance' danced before her eyes. Oh, not important —just Malcolm's letter, that was all! She remembered putting it with the details of Malcolm's will. Just pushing it into the back of the safe, not really aware of what she was doing; she hadn't been thinking too clearly at the time.
Mark must not see that letter; somehow she had to remove it and the rest of the contents of the safe when he was out of the office. 'I'll see to the safe tonight,' she said hurriedly—too hurriedly, then tried to cover up her obvious agitation with, 'It's mostly my f
ather's property. I don't think there's any point in hanging on to the old ledgers, is there?' she asked Mark, trying to sound casual about it.
`No point at all,' he replied, giving her a hard searching look, that made Jenny look quickly away.
For the rest of that day, Jenny was in a fever of impatience waiting for the evening, and Mark's departure for another business appointment. For once, fate was giving her a helping hand. She didn't know what she would have done if he had decided to cancel the appointment and spend the evening with her, but he hadn't, and she had ample time to remove the letter.
That evening she went along to the dining room for her evening meal, cooked for her by the able Mrs Cherry, who was turning out quite a treasure,
for she did not just confine her activities to cooking, but did the odd spell of tidying up after the decorators had finished in the particular area they were working on.
By the time Jenny went to dinner, Mrs Cherry had long since departed home to her Sam, and all Jenny had to do was to try to do justice to the delicious-looking Beef Wellington.
She deliberately lingered over the meal, giving Mark plenty of time to make his departure. She had not heard him leave the previous evening, and as the dining room was at the back of the hotel, was not likely to hear him leave that night, so all she could do was to let a decent time elapse before tackling the contents of the safe.
It was nine-thirty when she considered she had given him enough time to have left for his appointment, and made her way from the dining room to the office.
With fingers that trembled a little she searched in her desk drawer for the large old key to the safe, and finding it drew in a breath of relief. She had been afraid that she might not find it, or that it had been put away somewhere in the change over of proprietors.
Even though she knew there was no likelihood of Mark returning before eleven o'clock, she wasted no time in unlocking the safe. It was as if an inner compulsion drove her on, knowing she would know no peace until she had that letter in her hands.
At last her searching fingers grasped the long white envelope; she sighed again in relief. It was
safe, she had it, and now she would destroy it, as she should have done all that time ago.
'That wouldn't be Malcolm's last letter to you, would it?' asked Mark behind her, his voice sounding silky yet menacing. .
Jenny stiffened and her hand closed round the envelope, crushing it in her palm as she turned to face him. Part of her saw how handsome he was; he had changed into evening dress and as usual looked immaculate, a man to be proud of. The other part of her tried to assimilate the stark fact that he knew about the letter. Her wide eyes stared back at him as she whispered, 'You knew!'
He nodded curtly and moved further into the room, and for a heartstopping second Jenny thought he was going to take the letter from her, but he went past her and stood the other side of his desk. 'He sent me a letter, too,' he said harshly, and inclined his head towards the photograph on his desk—her photograph. 'That's how I got that. It was a nice touch, don't you think?' he said bitterly,
Jenny swallowed. How much did he know? He knew about the letter, but did he know of the contents?
As if she had actually asked the questions his next words proved that he did. 'You didn't care enough
to show it to me, did you?' he accused her harshly. 'Two years I waited for you to show it to me, or tell me about it. I even thought you'd destroyed it, but I had to be sure.'
Her knees felt like jelly and simply refused to support her, and she sat down in het chair by her
desk. 'What can I say ... ?' she got out wearily. 'How can I make you understand how it was?'
'You might have tried,' he replied savagely. 'Oh, I know what Peacock told you about me. How I played with women. How no doubt I was playing with you. I knew I was up against it, but as long as I was sure of your love, nothing else mattered.'
Jenny was bewildered. If he knew the contents of the letter then why ... ? 'If you knew all along that Malcolm had lied about our association ...' she began slowly, beginning to feel a rush of fury seep through her. He had put her through all that ...
'Do you think for one minute I would have left things like that?' he demanded. 'The countless occasions I had to steel myself against acting the way I wanted to. To drag you away from this place, by the roots of your hair if necessary, but the poison had been injected, and it served as a brake against my feelings—as Peacock had known it would. Shall I tell you what he said in the letter he left me?' he said harshly. 'He told me that he'd written to you—even what it was about. He left me no illusions on that score whatsoever. He also told me that if you loved me you would show me that letter, but if you did not, then he had been right all along, that I'd stampeded you into the engagement, not giving you a chance of refusing my attentions.'
He was silent for a second or so, and when he went on there was a weariness in his voice. 'The devil of it was that he could well have been right.' His bleak gaze met Jenny's wide eyes. 'I loved you enough to stampede you into marriage, too, whether
you cared for me or not.' He stared down at his clenched hands. 'However, having it laid on the line like that, my hands were tied. Peacock had issued a challenge to me, and my pride had to accept it. He knew me, and he knew you, and he played on our emotions as a maestro plays a violin.'
He looked back at Jenny, now with her head bent, dumb with misery at the realisation of the unhappiness she had caused both of them. 'I believe you do love me,' he said slowly. 'I don't believe you would have come back here if you hadn't, or accepted my second proposal—a little belatedly perhaps, but nevertheless you accepted. Care to tell me why you held that letter from me?' he asked quietly, yet there was a certain amount of strain in his voice.
Jenny's eyes flew to his, and the love in hers made him take a sharp breath, but he did not move, just sat there waiting. 'Because I thought ' she began in a low voice, and gave him an appealing look. 'I'd never been in love before, Mark. I was a silly spoilt little girl. I can't explain it any other way. I didn't believe what Malcolm said about you—even though I didn't know then that he loved me too, and was trying to break the engagement. I put it down to over-protectiveness on his part, and a little bit of jealousy.' She smiled weakly. 'You did rather outshine him at school, didn't you? I remember hearing all about you, years before I actually met you. He would always hold you up as an example of the sort of person he really wanted to be, although he didn't realise it.'
She stared at her hands. 'I didn't believe what he
said, until you refused to listen to me when I tried to explain about him.' Her eyes met his briefly. 'You gave me no chance of proving my innocence. To be honest, you frightened me. I'd never met anyone like you before—I didn't know what it was like not being believed—and when you called me,' she gulped, 'his mistress, I was sure that you didn't love —couldn't love me,' she gulped. 'Not to hurt me like that. I thought you were looking for a way out of the engagement—and so did everybody else. That ... that's why ...' She couldn't go on, she was too choked.
The next minute Mark was lifting her from her chair and into his arms. 'Don't, my love,' he groaned. `Stop punishing yourself. I played my part too, remember. How do you think I felt when I received that letter one week after the reading of the will? after what I'd accused you of? It was as well for Peacock that he'd already met his destiny,' he added savagely.
He looked down into Jenny's tear-stained eyes. `The only good thing I can say about him was that he loved you—almost as much as I do. He couldn't have loved you more than I do, it's not possible,' he said, burying his face in her soft hair. After a moment or so, he went on, 'I believe in the end he was slightly unhinged. I think he knew that he hadn't a chance with you. Also, I suspect that he knew that you loved me, and he couldn't take it. He could have had a premonition of his death—we'll never know—but he left nothing to chance. Knowing me, he knew what my reaction would be to the
will—particularly after the
lies he'd told me about your association with him.'
He kissed the tip of her nose lightly. 'And he knew you, my love. He gambled on the fact that you'd be too shattered to fight back and to attempt to clear your name.' He sighed gently. 'He was right on both counts, wasn't he?'
Jenny said nothing but nodded her head gently. Mark went on, 'My only hope was that time would work the miracle. That you would miss me as much as I missed you. I knew I only had to push myself back into your life again and make you take me back—but that letter stood as solid as a steel wall between us. I'd never know if Peacock was right—never be sure of your love. So I waited—and waited.' His voice was low. 'The weeks passed into months, then a year, then two years.'
He held her from him and stared searchingly into her eyes. 'I called myself all kinds of a fool, but I wouldn't accept the fact that you didn't love me. I moved around a lot about that time, threw myself into my business commitments, giving myself no time to brood—but it didn't work. I kept tabs on what was happening here when I was abroad. There had been instructions left at each one of my hotels that should any correspondence of a private nature arrive, it should be forwarded to wherever I was at the time. I think,' he said slowly, 'I'd got to the stage when I would have forced the issue anyway. One way or the other I had to know—then I heard that you were considering putting Peacock's Walk on the
market. It was all I needed. At least it gave me a chance to see you again.'
At this point Jenny raised her eyes to his. 'You didn't act as if you wanted to see me again,' she said in a tender yet gently scolding manner. 'If I remember rightly, you were not very nice to me.'
He kissed her hard before defending himself with, 'I meant to be, but seeing you there, looking just as lovely as I remembered, made me forget all my good intentions. I wanted to sweep you into my arms and kiss the living daylights out of you. I wouldn't have left you enough breath to refuse whatever I wanted of you. So I had to do the next best thing, try and goad you into showing me that letter, if only to get your own back on me and show me what a heel I'd been in not believing you. Believe me, my love, if you had, we wouldn't be standing here now wasting precious time.' He kissed her again.