The End of her Innocence

by Sara Craven

  She reached across and extracted an envelope from beneath a pile of house agents’ details.

  ‘He brought you this letter,’ she said, and put it on the table between them. She rose. ‘I expect you’d rather read it alone.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Chloe shook her head. ‘After all, I know what’s in it.’

  And I should have realised for myself from the start. All that business about getting to know each other all over again. The alterations to the cottage. Lindsay’s hostility and the fact that Flare obviously knew her from somewhere. How could I not see it?

  She remembered too Mrs Thursgood’s warning about men going off the boil, and her comment on Lindsay’s departure: ‘You won’t be sorry to see her go, I dare say.’

  Everyone knew but me, she thought. And I was too busy thinking about myself to notice.

  The envelope contained a single sheet of notepaper. ‘Dear Chloe,’ it ran. ‘I know what you must think of me, and I can’t possibly feel more of a louse than I already do. I should have told you from the outset that I’d met someone else, but it never seemed the right moment. My only excuse is that you were gone so long, and I was lonely.

  ‘Trying not to upset you, I ended up hurting Lindsay instead, and matters came to a head just before the dinner party. We had a terrible row and she told me to make up my mind once and for all or she was clearing out.

  ‘She also said I shouldn’t worry about you too much, because she’d bet good money that you had other fish to fry. Maybe you know what she means.

  ‘Whatever, I wish you every happiness in the future. Ian.’

  And good evening, friends, thought Chloe.

  She passed the letter to Aunt Libby. ‘There’s nothing private. It’s really just a confirmation of what he told you.’

  ‘Oh, Chloe,’ her aunt said when she’d read it. ‘My dear, dear girl. I’m so very sorry.’

  ‘Then you mustn’t be.’ Chloe retrieved the kettle and put it on the range. ‘It’s all for the best.’ She paused. ‘I suppose I had this image of Willowford in my mind as a haven, where everything would always be just the same, and I could step back into it whenever I wanted and find my place waiting for me.’ She sighed. ‘A kind of Garden of Eden in miniature.’

  ‘With Mrs Thursgood as the snake,’ Aunt Libby said grimly.

  ‘How true,’ Chloe agreed. ‘But, of course, it was never like that. It was just wishful thinking on my part. And I was having my doubts about settling here permanently,’ she added, choosing her words carefully. ‘So maybe Ian’s done me a favour.’

  ‘I wish I could think so,’ Aunt Libby said unhappily. ‘You always seemed so certain that he was the one, and in many ways I was glad of it. Because I could feel justified about having intervened before, and tell myself I’d done the right thing.’

  Chloe paused in spooning the coffee into the beakers. She said, ‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me. When did you intervene, and why?’

  Her aunt began to tidy the pile of papers, aligning them with acute precision. She said, ‘He wrote, you see, wanting to contact you in London. And because I didn’t answer his letter, he came back. He came here.’

  Chloe was very still. She said huskily, ‘Aunt Libby—are you—can you be talking about—Darius?’

  Her aunt nodded jerkily. ‘He said that he was going abroad almost immediately, but that he had to see you—to talk to you first. That there were things you had to know, that he needed to explain. He wanted your address, or just the name of your college. He—he almost begged.’

  Chloe’s throat was dry. ‘And you said?’

  ‘That he’d ruined enough lives already, and I wouldn’t allow him to spoil yours,’ Mrs Jackson said quietly. ‘That I couldn’t believe he had the gall to show his face in Willowford after what he’d done, and that he should go away and never return, because neither you nor anyone wanted to see him again.

  ‘And I must have convinced him,’ she added. ‘Because he went.’

  She paused. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you—and at a time like this. I never intended to. And I suppose that’s why I tried to be glad about Ian. Because I believed you’d be safe with him.’

  ‘I did too,’ said Chloe, and brought the coffee to the table. ‘So we were both mistaken.’ She bent and dropped a kiss on her aunt’s greying hair. ‘But you mustn’t beat yourself up about Darius. You were absolutely right to send him away.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I—I shall always be grateful for that.’

  And realised, her heart sinking, that it was only the first lie of many she would have to tell in the days to come in order to survive.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE house seemed blessedly quiet as Chloe came downstairs.

  In a way, Ian’s departure, although something of a shock, had provided her with a perfect, indisputable excuse to miss the Birthday Ball, on the genuine grounds that she did not feel up to meeting people, and that she had a lot of thinking to do.

  Except there was only one person she really wished to avoid. Two, she supposed wretchedly, if she counted Penny. As she knew she must.

  Her need to think, of course, was nothing but the truth. She had plans to make, for one thing. And tomorrow the village’s reaction to the news about Ian would break over her like a tidal wave. She therefore needed a story that would somehow show him in a reasonable light, while not presenting herself as a victim.

  And she would be expected to comment on Penny’s return too.

  Lucky Mrs Thursgood, she thought. Two bombshells for the price of one.

  However, it had taken serious perseverance to convince her aunt and uncle that she would be perfectly all right spending the evening alone. That she was planning to have a warm bath and an early night, and that they should go to the dance as arranged.

  And even then they had fussed, asking worriedly if she was quite sure.

  Uncle Hal, of course, had been incandescent about what he saw as Ian’s betrayal, declaring he’d never been so deceived in anyone, and how glad he was that the partnership would soon be ending.

  He had also received a note from Ian, left at the centre, announcing that he was taking a week’s unpaid leave so that he and Lindsay could be married by special licence.

  ‘I’d like to tell him to go on permanent leave,’ he said grimly.

  They were both so concerned for her, so convinced she was heroically concealing her grief over Ian’s loss, and it was best they went on believing that. If she tried to tell them, or anyone else, that she’d been planning to end it anyway, her aunt and uncle would think she was trying desperately to salvage her pride. Other people would probably mutter, ‘Sour grapes.’

  And all of them would be wrong.

  She poured herself a glass of wine and curled herself into a corner of the sofa, tucking the folds of her towelling dressing gown around her.

  Yes, she was shaken by the day’s events—not least by the voice in her head screaming endlessly, Why—why—why?

  But the question, with its jagged, persistent pain which made her want to moan aloud, had nothing to do with Ian, but had been triggered by Aunt Libby’s reluctant revelation that Darius had not simply walked away from her without a backward glance all those years ago.

  On the contrary, that he’d even risked coming back to Willowfold, with all the possible repercussions his visit might lead to, in order to try and find her.

  To explain …

  But how? Chloe wondered wearily. How could one ever explain the indefensible—the unforgivable? Or justify the destruction of his own brother’s marriage and the misery that had been caused?

  The ball tonight might be an attempt to paper over the gaping cracks in the Maynard dynasty, but how could it possibly succeed?

  Lives had indeed been ruined, as Aunt Libby had said, but Chloe was determined that hers was not going to be one of them. That she was going to tread a different road.

  Because Penny was still there in his life and had probably never been away. That was the sickening tru
th she somehow had to face.

  ‘I will get over this,’ she said aloud. And, more strongly, ‘I will get over him.’

  She took a drink of wine, as if toasting her own resolution, but the Sauvignon Blanc tasted oddly bitter in her throat. So she could not even rely on alcohol to numb the torment within her, she thought ruefully, putting down the glass.

  Then sat bolt upright as she heard the rattle of a key in the front door. She stifled a groan. So, her aunt and uncle were back, presumably convinced she should not be left after all.

  The door slammed and she heard footsteps coming hard and swift down the hall. One person. Not two. She sat up, her whole body stiffening with apprehension, her head turning towards the sitting room door as it was flung open and Darius walked in.

  She said hoarsely, ‘What the hell do you want?’

  ‘I was told your so-called engagement was over and you were too heartbroken to leave the house,’ he returned. He came to stand in front of her, elegant in his evening clothes, a crimson cummerbund emphasising his lean waist. His gaze swept her. ‘I must say that the sackcloth and ashes are very becoming. Intriguing too,’ he added softly looking at her bare feet. Chloe hastily covered them, glaring at him.

  ‘Anyway, I decided I must come and see this phenomenon for myself,’ he went on. ‘Especially as I’m willing to bet good money that the disappearance of your errant swain isn’t causing you even a moment’s real regret, apart from a few twinges of damaged pride. So why pretend?’

  ‘What do you know about it?’ she demanded defensively, shaken equally by his sudden arrival and the awareness of her own vulnerability. The soft elderly towelling covering her was no longer a comfort but seemed to be grating against her bare skin like sandpaper.

  ‘More than you think,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget I’ve been a close observer of this curious little triangle since your return.’

  ‘Not just an observer,’ Chloe snapped back. ‘You were dating Lindsay Watson yourself, after all.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I was not. Or not in the way you imagine. Ian had promised her months ago that he’d write to you, tell you it was over. Only he didn’t, and suddenly there you were, back in town, talking about weddings. And he was still dithering. Lindsay was miserable and jealous and needed a friend.’ He paused. ‘Quite understandably, she wanted to make him jealous too, and as I was also involved elsewhere, I was useful.’

  Involved elsewhere … The words cut into her like sharp knives. She moved restively. Changed direction.

  ‘Just how did you manage to get in here?’

  ‘Your Aunt Libby lent me her key.’

  She gasped. ‘I don’t believe it. She would never do such a thing.’

  He shrugged. ‘All right, I lured her into the shrubbery and mugged her for it.’

  She gestured impatiently. ‘She really gave it to you? But why?’

  ‘Maybe she feels she owes me,’ he drawled. ‘Or perhaps when I told her I was coming to collect you and whisk you to the ball like Cinderella, she decided belatedly to play Fairy Godmother. You must ask her sometime.’

  ‘I have news for you,’ said Chloe icily. ‘You are not and never will be Prince Charming.’

  ‘No hardship,’ he said. ‘I’ve always had him down as a total idiot, letting the girl he wanted run out on him because a clock struck twelve. He should have gone after her and dragged her back, rags, tatters and all.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ she said. ‘Now perhaps you’d leave.’

  ‘Not without you.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘So, put your dance dress on and we’ll be going.’

  ‘No,’ she said fiercely. ‘I won’t—and we won’t. I’m staying right here.’

  ‘To perpetuate the myth of the betrayed fiancée?’ He shook his head. ‘That doesn’t work and you know it. If you were so crazy about him, you wouldn’t have gone off and left him alone for all those months. And you’d certainly have been back from time to time to stake your claim, as it were. Make him as happy as you knew how. My God, you wouldn’t have been able to keep away.’

  His voice slowed, became quieter. ‘But that was never a problem for you, was it, Chloe? Keeping away. You must have had that poor guy climbing the walls. I wonder when it first occurred to him you weren’t looking for a real man of your own, but the father you’d never known. That it wasn’t intimacy or passion you were after but a safety net. While you—you couldn’t see what was right under your nose. That if there’d ever been a right time with him, it had run out long ago.’

  She scrambled to her feet. ‘Shut up,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Shut up now. What the hell do you know about love or loyalty, anyway? You’ve never had a faithful bone in your body, so you have no right to talk to me like this. No right at all. Do you hear me?’

  ‘And to hear is to obey?’ He shook his head. ‘Think again, my sweet.’

  ‘You know nothing about it.’ The words were running into each other. ‘About us. Nothing. I loved Ian. I did. There was never anyone else …’

  She stopped, staring at him, hearing the silence between them fill with her own ragged breathing, as she realised her denial was a nonsense born out of sheer desperation and that they both knew it.

  Knew too that there was no longer anywhere for her to hide. From him or from herself.

  And that she was terrified.

  At last Darius said evenly, ‘Shall we agree that is the last lie you will ever tell me? Now, go and change, or we’ll miss the birthday toast.’

  ‘Please—why are you making me do this?’ Her voice was a pleading whisper. ‘What can it matter to you whether I go or stay?’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘is something we might discuss later—when we have more time. Perhaps all the time in the world. As we should have had.’

  The breath caught in her throat. She wanted to fly at him. To hit him with her fists and scream, But why didn’t we? If I meant so much to you, then why did you go away with your sister-in-law? And how can you stand there—saying these things to me—reminding me of the past—when you know she’s back here with you? When she’s the one who’s really waiting for you.

  Except that she’d already gone too far down the path of self-betrayal. She could risk no more.

  Instead, she lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet the intensity in his green gaze. To challenge it.

  She said, ‘Now who’s telling lies?’ Then turned, going out into the hall and up the stairs.

  Darius followed.

  She watched him take the key from her bedroom door and pocket it.

  Cutting off what she’d hoped might be her last line of retreat.

  He lifted the jade dress down from the wardrobe door and removed its protective cover.

  There was a long pause, then he said softly, ‘It’s beautiful. And you will make it even lovelier. Put it on for me, my darling. Please.’

  There was a note in his voice which, in spite of herself, turned her legs to water, and made her quiver inside.

  Under her robe she was naked and they both knew it. He’d seen her without her clothes before, touched her, explored her with lingering intimacy, but that had been in some other lifetime.

  My glorious, radiant girl …

  Shyness paralysed her, and a sudden fear that in seven years her body might have changed. That she would not be as he remembered.

  And besides, there was Penny, whom she could never allow herself to forget, no matter how deep the ache of longing to have him look at her, even touch her again. Penny, who was waiting at the ball, probably checking her wristwatch, wondering why he’d found it necessary to leave her, and how much longer she would be alone.

  Penny, whom, very soon, I shall have to face, she thought.

  She stared across at him mutely, her eyes enormous, begging him to understand why it had become so impossible for her to strip in front of him and heard him sigh. He put the dress carefully on the bed, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  The dress had its own petticoat, so
the underwear it required was minimal, just a pair of French knickers in cream satin, edged in heavy lace.

  She stepped into the dress and drew it up over her body. Fastening the zip was a struggle, but she managed it in the end, because she didn’t dare call him back to ask him for assistance.

  Even now, she thought, and in spite of everything, I dare not trust myself.

  She ranged her cosmetics on her dressing table, but decided her hands were shaking too much to do more than apply some of the clear coral lipstick that matched the polish on her toes and fingers.

  It was not, she thought, a very brave face looking back at her from the mirror, but her pallor would be attributed to the fact that she’d just been jilted. No-one at the ball would expect her to be brimming with joie de vivre.

  She hung small jade drops from her ears, collected the silver evening purse that matched her sandals, then, drawing a deep breath, she went to the door.

  Darius was leaning against the wall opposite, but he straightened instantly as she appeared, his eyes raking her.

  He had no right, she thought, her heartbeat quickening, to look at her with such open hunger. No right at all.

  He said quietly, ‘Dear God, Chloe, you take my breath away.’ Then walked downstairs with her and out to the jeep in silence.

  This Birthday Ball, Chloe soon realised, was a very different proposition from the last one. Last time it had seemed a pretty exclusive affair. Tonight, it appeared that everyone in the village had been invited, including Mrs Thursgood with her husband, a tall man with a heavy moustache, who was as quiet as his wife was talkative.

  As Chloe walked into the ballroom, there was a sudden hush. For a brief instant, she was sharply aware of the rustle of her taffeta skirts and the firmness of Darius’s hand under her elbow, guiding her up the room, then the moment passed and everyone began chatting twice as hard.

  She said in an undertone, not looking at him, ‘Well, you’ve got me here. Perhaps you’ll now permit me to join my aunt and uncle so you can enjoy the rest of your evening.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘After all, I have some keys to return.’