by Margaret Way
For some years now it had been Charles Forsyth’s worst nightmare that his daughter would morph into his father. It was happening right in front of his eyes.
‘There is a bond between them, you know.’ Unwisely he found himself pointing it out. ‘Bryn did save Francey’s life all those years ago.’
Carina’s eyes flashed blue lightning. ‘Bryn—always the hero! Dear little Francey had taken Mum over even then.’
Charles Forsyth was shocked by her tone. ‘Nothing deliberate, Carrie. Francesca was such a lovely child.’
‘And I wasn’t?’ Carina asked fiercely, her creamy flushed cheeks only heightening her knock-out beauty.
‘Of course you were. You were perfect. You are perfect,’ her father lied desperately. Often as a child Carina had been truly horrible. Once she had even ransacked her mother’s study. Horrible! ‘Poor little Francey was an orphan,’ he said, in an effort to win his niece some sympathy. ‘She was in desperate need of tender loving care, which your mother gave her. You were never neglected, Carrie. Not for one moment. Why do you blame your cousin so? She was the innocent victim.’
‘Actually, I was the victim,’ Carina said, never more serious in her life. ‘Though you and Mum never noticed. Francey was no innocent. She might have started out that way, but as time went on she and Mum were always in league in a conspiracy against me.’
Charles Forsyth was torn two ways. Between love for his daughter and a growing fear that he didn’t really know or possibly even like her. ‘That’s not right, Carrie! You should speak to someone about this. What you have is a phobia, and it seems to be growing worse.’
Carina laughed. ‘Sorry, Dad, but I’m spot-on. Mum lived for Francey. Think of it! My own mother loves my cousin far more than she loves me, her only child.’
‘Maybe you wouldn’t let her love you?’ her father countered.
‘How could I, when she was always turning to Francey?’ Carina answered, as though the explanation was obvious. She put up a hand to pat her father’s cheek. Oddly, it caused him to jump as if she had administered an electric shock. ‘Look, Dad, I love Francey. I admire her essential goodness. We’re not only first cousins, we’re the closest of friends. She often comes to me for advice, and I’m delighted to give it. I can’t help it if occasionally I have a little growl about Mum’s affection for her. I’m no saint.’
No, you’re not, God help us! Charles Forsyth felt a blindingly sharp pain in his right temple. Lord knew what might happen if Macallan suddenly switched his attentions from Carina to Francesca. With all he now knew, it could happen. There were all sorts of surprises in life. A huge one was about to hit them like a tidal wave. And there would be hell to pay if ever Carina’s plans were thwarted. Carina had a formidable array of weapons—not the least of them his father’s legendary ruthlessness. He wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of any woman who tried to oust Carina in Macallan’s affections.
Now more than ever early retirement seemed a welcome option for Charles Forsyth. He was ready to quit the stage. He hadn’t really needed to be shoved.
The reading of the will was set for an hour after the last mourner had left. Francesca thought she might faint away from distress and fatigue by then.
‘Are you okay?’ Bryn found her sitting quietly in a corner, partially obscured by a tall and luxuriant indoor palm. He drew up a chair beside her.
‘Sort of,’ she said, enormously grateful for his company. ‘Death is very sobering, isn’t it? What I profoundly regret is the fact I wasn’t able to make a real connection with Grandfather and now I never will. But Carina was his great favourite, after all.’
‘She was so like him,’ Bryn offered by way of explanation.
Francesca smiled faintly. ‘Yes. I always understood it was my job to keep quiet and out of the way. Lord knows how I would have turned out if not for Elizabeth and the innumerable kindnesses shown to me by your family. In a way—’ she looked about them at the daunting opulence of the room ‘—I still feel like I’m in enemy territory in this great terrible house.’
‘It is a bit of a monstrosity,’ Bryn quietly agreed. He’d thought that the first time he had walked into the mansion all those years ago.
‘I used to hope and pray Carrie and I might become inseparable,’ Francesca confided poignantly. ‘The two Forsyth girls.’
‘It never happened.’ A simple statement of fact.
‘No. Our relationship, nevertheless, is close and binding. But somehow, underneath it all, I felt unsettled and confused. I’m much happier now living my own life, standing on my own two feet, looking to the future.’
‘The future is what matters, Francey,’ he told her, continuing to watch her closely. She was very pale, and far more genuinely upset than Carina. ‘You have to let everything else—the bad things—recede into the past. Something inside tells me you’re fated to be a powerful force for good.’
His comment made her heart topple. ‘Oh, Bryn!’ She waved an agitated hand, as if dismissing the very idea.
‘No, I mean it,’ he said. ‘You have a light around you, Francey. You did from your childhood. That light drew me to you.’
She was starting to feel really dizzy. ‘You mean the day I nearly drowned?’ What was going on inside his head? His heart? She couldn’t be mistaken. There was a lot of feeling somewhere there.
‘Then, and now,’ he said.
She gave an involuntary shiver as memories crowded in. ‘I often revisit that day in my dreams. The sense of danger is still with me.’
‘Danger?’ His black brows drew together in a frown. ‘You’ve never spoken of it before.’
‘So much I haven’t put into words.’ She sighed, feeling the weight of her suspicions. Carina, her own flesh and blood, a threat to her? Nothing good could possibly come out of saying that to Bryn. She knew better than anyone the relationship between Carina and him was too close. Her subconscious might grapple with her clouded memories, but she had to keep them under lock and key. Who would believe her anyway? She had often heard Carina describe her as ‘nerve-ridden’, all the while managing to sound deeply concerned. One thing was certain: exposing Carina could only bring heartbreak.
And trouble.
There was always that nagging thought. Crossing people like Carina, who thought what she wanted should be the law of the land, could develop into a life-threatening matter.
‘No point in keeping it locked up inside you.’ Bryn’s frown darkened his handsome face. ‘Better to speak to someone you trust about these things. I’ve told you I’m always ready to listen.’
‘And I appreciate that, Bryn.’ She made no attempt to conceal it. ‘Life can be a lot tougher when you’re rich.’ She gave a little laugh, but the sound was very tense. She didn’t want to be around for the will reading. She wanted to be well away.
Bryn briefly touched her hand, giving her his beautiful magnetic smile. ‘Isn’t that the truth? Look, you sit here quietly. I have to have a word with Frank’s elder sister and her husband. But I’ll be back.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, realising her head was lolling slightly forward. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I’ll be back,’ he repeated, looking every inch the hero.
Hang in there, Francey, she urged herself as Bryn walked away to join the Forsyths. Everything passes.
A moment later, Carina zoomed across the room to chide her. ‘Don’t droop, Francey. We have a duty to support one another.’ Her eyes flicked over Francesca’s slender figure. ‘And couldn’t you have done better than that suit? It’s okay, I guess, but you try much too hard to pretend you don’t have money when the whole damned country knows you have.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. Anyway, you look a billion dollars.’
‘That’s my job. Gramps took such pleasure in how I looked. It’s no easy task to look this good every day—especially when one has to attend the funeral of the person who loved me most in this world.’
Francesca realised that just might be true.
‘I’m sorry, Carrie,’ she murmured. ‘Truly sorry. Grandfather did love you. He adored you.’
‘And he would have loved you too, only there was always something difficult about you, Francey. You didn’t fit in, and you never gave Gramps the reverence he deserved. He was a great man, yet that seemed to mean nothing to you.’
It took an effort, but Francesca had to deny the charge. ‘That’s not true. I gave Grandfather all the respect in the world. I couldn’t rise to reverence. I associate reverence with saintly people—fallen war heroes, great humanitarians and the like. And, let’s face it, I didn’t have your wonderful self-assurance and I didn’t have the Forsyth blonde, blue-eyed good-looks.’
‘No, you missed out there. But you’re attractive enough,’ Carina told her, quite objectively. ‘The pity of it is you don’t do much for yourself.’
‘Well, I intend to make a start,’ Francesca said, making a visible effort to straighten her shoulders. ‘Maybe tomorrow. I apologise if I’m looking a bit fraught. I haven’t had much sleep.’
‘And I have?’ Carina cast her large blue eyes towards the ceiling. ‘You do have dark circles under your eyes. No wonder you were hiding behind those sunglasses. Perhaps I should give you a good shake?’ She glanced at Francesca sidelong. ‘Remember how I used to shake you awake when we were kids? You used to keep me awake with your night terrors. Mum had fixed you up with a nightlight too. Sconces were left burning along the corridor, and if that weren’t enough, I was in the next room. No one seemed to care much if I didn’t like all that light shining in on me.’
‘Poor, poor Carina. I do remember.’ Francesca reached out a hand for the high back of a chair that really should have been in a museum to steady herself.
‘You were always having such terrible dreams. What were they about? Nightmares about drowning?’
Why did Carina always bring that subject up? Was she constantly checking to see if Francesca’s memory of the near tragedy remained dim?
‘They were the worst.’ Francesca gave a shudder. Pitching or being pushed headlong into the dark green lagoon. Even when she woke up she had felt bruised.
‘Needless to say Mum always had to get up to comfort you. You weren’t happy with little me. Mum had to come to pet you and soothe you back to sleep. Pathetic, really. Sometimes I used to think Mum loved you more than me.’ She smiled into Francesca’s eyes as if asking a question: what sort of mother would do that?
‘Have a heart.’ Francesca shook her aching head. ‘I was only a little lost kid, Carrie. Your mother was just looking out for me.’
‘Something she’s doing to this day.’ Carina only just succeeded in covering her intense resentment. ‘Dad and I were terribly upset she sat with the Macallans. We could see that as a betrayal.’
‘Perhaps Elizabeth wasn’t prepared to be hypocritical?’ Francesca suggested, loyal to the woman who had reared her from the age of five. ‘She didn’t have a good relationship with our grandfather, did she? His fault, not hers.’
‘Hey, hey—be fair now!’ Carina was looking more taken aback by the minute. ‘I suppose it was Dad’s fault she couldn’t get far enough away from him?’ she asked heatedly.
Francesca could see Carina was as upset in her way as she was in hers. ‘Look, don’t upset yourself, Carrie. It’s just that your mother didn’t believe it possible to remain locked in a marriage that wasn’t working.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’ Carina’s matt cheeks were hot with blood. ‘You have no insight into relationships. God, you haven’t even had a real one, have you? You can’t count Greg Norbett…or Harry Osbourne,’ she added contemptuously.
‘Certainly not after you made a play for him.’ Francesca surprised herself by making the charge. ‘Why did you do that? You weren’t interested in Harry.’
Carina backed off a notch, touching Francesca’s cheek very gently. ‘I only did it to make you see what he really was. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’ve never wanted to see you suffer, Francey. You’re still my little lost cousin. I have to look out for you. Harry Osbourne was no good for you.’
‘Harry was okay,’ Francesca said. ‘He was never as close to me as you thought. We weren’t lovers. Nothing like that.’
Carina made no effort to conceal her amusement. ‘Gosh, are you still a little virgin? I bet you are!’ She trilled with laughter that caused heads to turn.
‘Maybe, as a Forsyth, I don’t fancy the idea of my affairs getting around.’
That appeared to hit the bullseye. ‘What does that mean?’
Francesca shrugged. ‘Nothing, really.’ What sense was there in baiting Carina? ‘Sadly, not all married couples live happily ever after.’
‘Well, I plan to.’ Carina stared fiercely at her cousin, like a fencing opponent determined on slicing her through. ‘I love Bryn. I’ve always loved him. I was meant to have him and I’m going to make certain I do. So don’t ever be fool enough to get in my way, cousin.’
Threat came off Carina in waves.
Francesca was all too familiar with the look. Just so had their grandfather looked when he was laying down the law. ‘When have I ever done that, Carrie?’ she asked quietly. ‘We could have been good friends if you’d only given me a chance.’
‘Given you a chance?’ Carina couldn’t have looked more taken aback. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. To my mind we’re the best and closest of friends.’
‘Surely it’s time to face the truth? We’re not, Carrie. We might as well stop the pretence.’
Carina was holding her hands so tightly together she might be fearing she would lash out. ‘I don’t believe this. And on this day of days!’
‘Maybe that’s the reason. It’s the end of an era; the end of the old life. I wanted to belong. I wanted us to be more like sisters than cousins. But sadly we were never that.’
Carina’s anger suddenly disappeared like a puff of smoke. ‘I hate to hear you talk like this, Francey,’ she said. ‘It makes me feel quite wounded. You obviously have no memory of all the fondness I showed you. What you’re saying sounds quite neurotic. I can’t help knowing all these years that you’ve been sick with envy. Don’t worry. I forgive you. It’s natural enough. But I’ve always tried to be there for you. I’ve always tried to protect you from unpleasantness. I shielded you from Gramps. You made him angry, always looking at him with those big tragic eyes. Anyone would think you were accusing him of something.’
Francesca shook her head. ‘Nonsense!’
‘Not nonsense at all. If I were you, I’d count myself lucky.’
‘A lot of the time I do,’ Francesca freely admitted. ‘Look, Bryn’s coming over.’
‘He’s coming to me!’ Carina pointed out very sharply, her possessive blue eyes following his progress. ‘I dearly need his support.’
‘Of course you do.’
The life force that was in Bryn Macallan made him fairly blaze. Both young women felt it. Both were electrified by it.
Francesca made her escape as swiftly as she could. She mightn’t know the whole truth of Bryn’s relationship with her cousin, but she knew enough not to interfere.
If only…If only…
She made the mistake of glancing back, and any tiny hope she might have nourished withered and died. Bryn held an anguished-looking Carrie against his breast, his raven head bent over hers, a shining blonde against the funereal black of his jacket.
Who said unrequited love wasn’t hell?
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN Francesca finally made it to the relative sanctuary of her old suite of rooms, she found Dami, the maid, putting a pile of fluffy fresh towels in the en suite bathroom, which was almost as big as the living room in Francesca’s apartment.
‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms Forsyth?’ Dami asked. She had already unpacked Francesca’s things and put them away. ‘Would you like tea?’
Francesca glanced out of the window. It was still brilliantly light. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you, D
ami.’ There had been any amount of food and drink downstairs, but she hadn’t felt able to touch a thing. The ‘mourners’, however, standing in groups holding plates and glasses aloft, had availed themselves of the sumptuous spread. It might have been a wedding, not a wake. ‘Are you settling in well?’ she checked with the maid, who was a fairly recent addition to the staff.
Dami looked shocked to be asked. ‘Yes, thank you, miss.’ She gave a little nervous bob. ‘What kind of tea, please?’ Eagerness was visible in every line of her slight body. She began to sound off a list.
It was Francesca’s turn to smile. ‘Darjeeling will be fine, Dami. Perhaps you could find a sandwich to go with it?’ It struck her all of a sudden that she had better have something to keep up her strength.
‘Of course, miss,’ Dami said, preparing to withdraw. ‘Shall I draw a bath for you later?’ It was her job to look after Francesca’s every need, and she was obviously taking it very seriously.
Francesca shook her head, marvelling that, after a lifetime of it, she still couldn’t get used to the Forsyth lifestyle of being waited on hand and foot. Even her grandfather’s morning papers had had to be pressed with a warm iron before they were brought to him. ‘I’m not sure of my plans, Dami,’ she said gently. ‘In any case, I can manage, thank you.’
‘Yes, miss.’ Dami gave another little cork-like bob, then vanished to carry out Francesca’s wishes.
After Dami had gone Francesca slipped out of the offending black two-piece suit to which Carina had given the thumbs-down. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. In fact it was quite elegant. But Carina, she knew, didn’t go for the understated. She hung the suit away, then pulled a pair of narrow black linen trousers off the hanger. She had brought a silk blouse to wear with it, silver-grey in colour. Her head was aching so badly she pulled the pins out of the confining knot and then shook her hair free. Immediately she experienced a sense of lightness that seemed to lessen the throbbing pain in her temples. It might be a good idea to wait for Dami to return with her tea before taking any medication. She wasn’t used to it. Not that there was a problem with a couple of painkillers.
