Rowan forced a smile. 'That's what I want,' she said.
Livvy had proved to be a large, practical humorous lady whom Rowan liked on sight. The rooms in her tall house had been furnished from junk shops but with flair and imagination, and she liked to keep a motherly eye on her young tenants, while pursuing· a policy of non-interference.
Rowan managed to find a job in a small newsagents and tobacconists a few streets away, and while the pay she received would not have set the Thames on fire, coupled with her allowance, it meant she could get by until she could think coherently about the future.
She received a couple of letters from Grace, full of general news, including that David had finished his exams and was in the depths of despondency, convinced he had failed. About Raven's Crag she said not a word, and Rowan wondered in spite of herself whether Carne and Antonia were married yet.
She wrote back to Grace reassuring her that she was nicely settled, and asking her to arrange to have the rest of her things sent on. She had only brought one small suitcase away with her, and this imposed strict limitations on her wardrobe. Besides, she wanted her typewriter and her manuscript back, even if she did not relish the memories it would inevitably revive.
But at least it would give her something with which to fill her evenings, apart from going down to Livvy's large, untidy, colourful sitting room and sitting watching television programmes she couldn't remember a single detail about afterwards.
There were other alternatives, of course. Two of her fellow-lodgers, both in their early twenties had eyed her appreciatively and made noises about taking her out, but she deliberately remained aloof. She wanted no more emotional involvement, even of the lightest variety, for quite some time to come.
Besides, she was amazed that anyone would seriously consider dating her. She still looked pale. She wasn't sleeping properly, and it was beginning to show in her hair and complexion, and her nails were bitten down to the quicks again. Not an appetising sight, she thought, viewing herself in the long mirror attached to one wall, with a swift grimace.
There was a knock on the door, and Livvy's head appeared round it.
'You have a visitor, petal. Shall I send him up, or will you see him down in the sitting room?'
'I'll come down. It will be someone from my father's solicitors. 1 wrote to them to let them know where 1 was, and also that my stepmother was remarrying shortly, and they said they'd be in touch.'
Rowan was a little on edge as she went into the sitting room. She supposed that technically both she and Antonia had disqualified themselves from their respective allowances, under the terms of the will, and hoped very much that this was not what her unknown caller had come to tell her.
Then she stopped, whatever remark she had been about to make shrivelling on her parted lips as Carne rose unhurriedly from the sofa and stood looking at her.
When she spoke, it was in a whisper. 'What are you doing here?'
He raised an eyebrow. 'Looking for you. And before you start calling Grace names, she kept her word stalwartly to the end. I found your address through the Winslow estate lawyers.'
'But I've only just got in touch with them.'
'So I discovered,' he said. 'I'd asked them to let me know as soon as they heard from you, if they ever did.'
'I see.' She didn't really. She didn't know anything any more, least of all whether seeing him again was more pleasure than pain. 'I-I suppose you had to contact them to let them know you were marrying Antonia.'
'I didn't,' he said. 'And I haven't-married Antonia, that is. I never had any intention of marrying her, although I gather her plans were rather different. She always did take altogether too much for granted. She should have left it at that.' There was a sudden grimness in his voice that made her look at him with dazed comprehension.
'Then-you know?'
He nodded. 'Everything. Or I think I do, and you can fill me in on any points that have been missed.' He looked at her, at the white, strained features, the tears welling up in her eyes, and his voice altered, roughened. 'You stupid, proud little fool! Why did you let me think you'd been helping yourself to Sybilla's things? Why didn't you damn Antonia to hell and tell the truth about her?'
'Because I didn't think that was what you wanted to hear,' she confessed, the tears pouring down her face. 'I thought . . .'
'You thought altogether too bloody much,' he said harshly, and then she was in his arms and his mouth was seeking hers with a demand that combined passion and tenderness. She clung to him, her head swimming, her whole existence crystallised into the reality of his mouth exploring hers, and the gentleness of his hands on her body. He was gentle too as he cradled her face in his hands and looked down at her when the long kiss was over.
'My poor little love! Will you ever forgive me for doubting you? If I'd been thinking straight I'd never have given it credence, but I was haunted by you telling me you'd do anything to get away from me. And I had to admit I hardly knew you. Every time I tried to get near to you, mentally as well as physically, you pushed me away.'
'I didn't want to.' She had to try and explain. 'But Antonia made me believe that you were hers-that 1 embarrassed you even.'
'She hasn't changed.' There was real anger in his voice as he drew her down to sit beside him on the sofa. 'Even as a girl she had a way of twisting everything to suit her own ends. Oh, I admit for a while it seemed as if she was trying to make something of her life. That's why I lent her the money for the boutique, but when I found she was blithely prepared to write it off, and expected me to do the same, I got angry and decided she needed a lesson. That I'd make her work, if it was the last thing I did. Only I soon realised that the plan had misfired when Sybilla told me that you were waiting on her hand and foot.' He was silent for a moment. 'Sybilla's very fond of you. Even when things looked blackest, she told me privately that she couldn't believe you'd stolen her treasures, and pointed out what I'd missed-that you'd never actually admitted having done so, but that you were obviously deeply shocked and upset. So I wrote a list of what was missing and combed every antique shop for miles until I found a man who remembered the candlesticks and the snuflbox and gave me a vivid description of the woman who'd sold him the stuff.' He shook his head wryly. 'It didn't resemble you in the slightest. When I faced Antonia with him, she broke down and admitted everything, including how she'd forced you to come north with her originally.'
'Is she still at the house?'
'She is not,' he said grimly. 'When last heard of, she was staying with "friends" in Keswick. From what I can gather, one of her bridge-playing cronies is a retired industrialist, and she has her sights set on him now.'
'But I thought you loved her. She's so beautiful-and you did paint her portrait.'
'I didn't. I made some preliminary sketches, but Antonia's a lousy model. She wants to be admired, and she won't keep still. Besides, her portrait was very much second best, you know.' He kissed her again. 'Come back to me, dryad. Let me paint what's been filling my head to the exclusion of everything else for weeks.'
She said shyly, 'I thought perhaps you'd brought my things.'
'Your luggage is still at Raven's Crag, waiting for you.
Sybilla's waiting too, not to mention Mrs Ramsden, who informs me you were "a nice young lady" and was quite put out because you fled without saying goodbye to her.'
Rowan said, 'Did I? Oh dear, but I wasn't thinking very clearly . . .'
'None of us were--but her.'
'But Carne---' she hesitated, 'you were her lover. I saw her coming from your room the morning after our quarrel.'
He shrugged. 'Perhaps she was. I don't remember. But I hadn't slept with her, whatever impression she may have given you. Years ago I fancied her-sure, why not? But I soon found that any affair with Antonia would be strictly one-sided. All that sexy,' come-hither stuff is a facade. There's nothing there. No passion, no warmth, no generosity, and every favour granted on a strictly quid pro quo basis. That's no
t love, Rowan. I want more from a wife than the occasional, barely tolerated use of her body in return for a roof over her head, and my money to spend.'
Rowan did not speak, and after a pause he said huskily,' Aren't you going to ask what I do want?' She shook her head, and he gave a slight, shaken laugh. 'Then I'll tell you anyway. I want everything you have to give, and more, Rowan. I want you-all of you, dryad, now and for ever. I'm too old for you. I've made every mistake I could make, I know that. But for God's sake, give me another chance. Things can only get better.'
She said slowly, not looking at him, 'Carne, how can it work? I'm naive and stupid, and I bite my nails. I'm not fit to be married to anyone, especially someone who moves in your sort of sophisticated world. I'd be out of my depth.'
'I'll teach you to swim.'
'You'd regret it within a year,' she gasped. He was touching her again, and her body was melting.
'Darling, without you there'd be nothing but regrets.
And my jet-setting days are over. I told you that some time ago, and I meant it. My life is at Raven's Crag, with you if you'll have me.' He kissed her again, and she yielded against him in passionate abandon, her arms lifting to encircle his neck and draw him even closer. When they drew apart they were both breathless.
'In any case,' said Carne, 'you can't turn me down.
Clive and Grace are making us a dinner service as a wedding present.'
'Oh!' Rowan pummelled his chest in mock rage. 'So you were that sure of me!'
'I was never sure of you at all,' he said seriously. 'I'll only be sure when my ring's on your finger. But I do have a small bribe for you.' He reached down beside the sofa and brought up a portfolio. 'Don't be angry, darling, but the manuscript was there in your room. I had to read it. It was like discovering part of you.'
Wonderingly, she opened the portfolio, and cried out in joy. A cascade of ravens emptied on to her lap-prime City ravens in morning coats with bowler hats and umbrellas, and plump country ravens with knowing twinkles in their eyes and straws in their beaks, each and everyone of them with a character of his own.
'Carne, they're wonderful! They're exactly right. Oh, how did you know?'
'I didn't. But it bodes well for the future, don’t you think?' He put his arm round her, drawing her to him. His voice was gentle. 'Marry me, love. Marry me soon. I'm empty without you.'
'And I've been so unhappy.' She gave a little wondering laugh. 'I can hardly believe this is happening.'
'You'd better believe it,' he said softly, and close in the shelter of his arms, his mouth warm on hers, Rowan surrendered herself to the joy of a dream come true.
Sara Craven - Summer of the Raven Page 21
