‘You can’t expect me to go along with everything you suggest,’ she muttered, sweeping the wet hair back off her face, trying to keep her eyes averted from the strength of his tall, lean body.
‘I don’t make idle suggestions.’ His jaw tightened as he looked at her steadily. ‘This morning’s was for your own good, whatever you choose to think. You look as though a whiff of wind might blow you away,and swimming’s one of the finest exercises you can get.’
‘I got plenty of exercise in France,’ Helen retorted. ‘I don’t need your help to keep fit.’
Grimly he hauled himself up beside her. ‘I could easily wring your lovely neck,’ he murmured idly.
She watched the water running off him back into the pool. Her eyes rounded with fear as the savage expression in his eyes made her suddenly nervous.
‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough?’ she whispered.
He laughed mirthlessly. ‘I told you last night, I haven’t even started.’
Helen felt as if a giant hand was slowly squeezing the breath out of her, as something at last convinced her he meant every word he said. He was possessive and ruthless and might never let her go until he was convinced she was sorry for all the wrong she had done.
Fighting him was no answer. It wouldn’t be easy to be humble all the time, but at least she could try. At the moment she didn’t feel she had the strength to be anything else.
‘I’m sorry, Stein,’ putting out a hand, she touched him tremulously, ‘I know I’ve done wrong and I’ll try and make amends. I’m willing to stay here or go away, whatever you like.’
He withdrew, throwing off her hand impatiently as his eyes narrowed. Dully Helen realised he didn’t trust her, and probably never would. His breath rasped, his eyes regarding her icy, while his mouth thinned. ‘I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you,’ he said harshly, ‘but one thing you can believe. I won’t let you go. I wish I could.’
Afterwards Helen tried to make sense of what Stein had obviously stated in anger. She wasn’t foolish enough to imagine she had any power over him and came to the conclusion that his brief, bitter words before leaving her at the pool had more to do with the punishment he felt compelled to mete out because of Lester than because of himself.
She didn’t see Stein again after they returned to the house. From her room she heard a car draw up outside the front door and drive away. She presumed it was Paul, taking him to London.
She had intended asking Stein at breakfast if he could find her something to do. The thought of being idle all day filled her with dismay. While she had believed she owned Oakfield she had had plenty to occupy her mind, if nothing else. She almost cringed with shame as she recalled the hours she had spent going around the house and grounds trying to calculate how much money Stein had squandered. No wonder he couldn’t forgive her!
To discover she had neither property nor money was frightening but might not have seemed so bad if she had had a job to stop her thinking about it. There was nothing she could do here. She could imagine what Mrs Swinden would say if she offered to help in the house. If Stein hadn’t already told them, she wondered how long it would be before the staff discovered her true position? People living at close quarters with each other, whatever their capacity, had a peculiar knack of discovering exactly what was going on.
She had been going to plead with Stein to help her to find something. She had looked after children in France and would be willing to do this kind of work again. Or, if he wouldn’t allow that, she had hoped he might offer her her old job back in the firm. The firm must now be incorporated with his other companies but would still be there, and if necessary she could travel to town with him each day.
She had to do something. She couldn’t continue living on his charity, she didn’t want to get any deeper I in his debt. She didn’t even have much left for the small, essential items it was necessary to purchase from time to time. With all these thoughts churning feverishly in her mind she had gone upstairs to dry her hair before tackling him, but in her room she began feeling really ill.
Not even a hot shower revived her, and she was still sitting shivering as she heard Stein depart. So much for her immediate plans, she thought unhappily, holding her throbbing head.
Her drenching in the rain, combined with the shock she had received the previous afternoon, must have given her a chill which her swim this morning appeared to have turned into a raging cold. She felt unable to do anything but go back to bed again, where she soon began to feel even worse.
When, in the middle of the morning, Hilary found her she had tossed all her blankets off without actually realising what she was doing. The girl, after one apprehensive glance at her, hurried downstairs in alarm to tell Mrs Swinden. Mrs Swinden, after paying a grumbling visit to Helen’s room, returned double-quick to ring Stein’s secretary. A few minutes later, when she spoke to Stein, he told her to ring for a doctor immediately.
He surprised them by arriving at Oakfield before the doctor, which didn’t appear to please him. He rang the doctor himself, to ask what was keeping him, and returned to Helen’s bedside, violence in his stride as he regarded her flushed face and glazed eyes.
‘Why didn’t you say you were feeling ill?’ he demanded, taking hold of her wrist and frowning at her racing pulse.
‘I had a headache, that’s all,’ Helen murmured feebly.
She wondered what Stein was doing here at this time of day. She couldn’t see his face very well, it was floating above her in the most peculiar way, but she sensed he was frowning and he sounded annoyed.
‘You should have mentioned it, all the same.’
Such terse, angry tones! Hadn’t Hilary said his secretary had mentioned, when Mrs Swinden rang, that he was in the middle of an important conference with some of his directors? They must have told him she was dying and he had come for the pleasure of seeing her draw her last breath. Naturally he would be furious, now that he’d discovered she merely had a chill.
When she accused him of this, in a shrill, disjointed voice, he told her to be quiet. ‘You’re delirious, Helen.
Don’t say another word until you’re-able to talk sense!’
He prowled around her room so restlessly she wished he would sit down. When she grew tired of trying to keep up with him, she closed her eyes wearily.
She heard him opening the door, muttering savagely about there not being a bell in her room. She heard him shouting for Mrs Swinden to bring him something to drink. She couldn’t remember hearing Stein raising his voice before and for several minutes her fevered mind pondered on this curiously.
She felt his fingers on her pulse again and wondered why he should be giving it so much attention. ‘Have you had anything since that cup of tea we had before we went swimming?’ he asked curtly.
She didn’t answer, and he asked Mrs Swinden when she arrived with a laden tray. Helen was faintly surprised, since she had never seen Mrs Swinden carrying a tray before. When the housekeeper replied, somewhat primly, that Helen hadn’t come down for breakfast but they had thought she was just having a lazy morning, he snapped something at the woman which Helen hoped vaguely wasn’t what she thought it was, otherwise he might have made an enemy for life!
He asked Helen if she was thirsty. She was, but she feared if she tried to swallow anything she might be sick. She tried to explain this to him, but he either mustn’t have listened or understood. The next thing she knew he was slipping an arm under her shoulders in order to lift her and press a little brandy to her dry lips.
Again his face floated, grey and strangely tense above her, and she had a sudden desire to cling to him for comfort. ‘Stein …’ she whispered, turning her pale head against his shoulder instead of towards the drink he held.
‘You’d better have something, Helen,’ she heard him draw a harsh breath while his body went rigid. ‘Just a little sip of this might help. I’ve added a lot of water.’
She was relieved when the doctor came, because Stein r
efused to leave her alone. She felt too ill to appreciate his frequent attempts to bathe her brow and tidy her bed. Fretfully she appealed to Mrs Swinden that she didn’t want to be washed and made to drink and have her bed made, but when Mrs Swinden, for once surprisingly sympathetic, spoke up in support of her, Stein practically ordered her out of the room.
Helen was glad when the doctor ordered Stein out too, although he went grimly and with obvious reluctance.
The doctor, who had known Helen since she was a baby, muttered fussily as he examined her. ‘I don’t suppose anyone’s ever told Mr Maddison what to do in his life, at least not for years. He certainly seems to take his responsibilities seriously. Your father couldn’t have left you in better hands.’
Doctor Palmer was right ‘in some ways, Helen reflected bitterly, if not in others. Stein did take her seriously, but she wasn’t exactly his responsibility, and she was grateful that her father had made no attempt to put such a request in his will. He had left Stein a few personal belongings-his gun and some pictures he had prized-s-but hadn’t asked him to take care of Helen. If Stein had a position in her life it was self-appointed. He was concerned for her well-being only because he was determined she wouldn’t cheat him of his revenge.
The doctor diagnosed a severe chill and kept Helen in bed for the next week. She was so ill he was frightened of complications, but fortunately she escaped anything more serious. This might have been due to the competence of the private nurse Stein engaged. Helen couldn’t understand why he went to so much trouble, especially when she was sure she didn’t need any special treatment and Mrs Swinden said she was more than willing to look after her.
The nurse was a pleasant girl and Helen liked her. When the time came she was really sorry to see her go.
‘I’m very grateful for all you’ve done for me,’ Helen said sincerely, as she shook the girl’s hand, ‘but I still feel an awful fraud. There must have been a lot of people who needed you much more than I did.’
‘People need nurses all the time, fortunately-or unfortunately,’ the nurse smiled humorously, ‘but you were very ill, dear. If I hadn’t been here you might have had to go into hospital. However, Mr Maddison didn’t let it come to that.’
‘No,’ Helen murmured, well aware of Jane Smith’s curiosity regarding Stein. She came from London and had apparently heard of him before she had arrived.
She appeared slightly in awe of his reputation as one of the City’s leading tycoons, and Helen wondered if she had fallen in love with him, as she usually flushed whenever he’d entered her room.
He had come to her room so frequently that Helen had begun to suspect he might return the nurse’s feelings. Stein liked women and seemed to prefer those nearer his own age. Jane Smith’s uncle was a famous Harley Street consultant and the girl was very pretty and intelligent. As a possible candidate for the position of his wife-if Stein should ever decide to get married-Jane Smith might be eminently suitable.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE HOUSE seemed very quiet after Jane Smith had gone. She left with Stein, and it gave Helen little pleasure to see them sitting together in the back of the Rolls. As she gazed at them from behind the drawingroom curtains, to where she had furtively sped to watch them depart, she saw that Stein appeared to be giving the girl all his attention. Unhappily Helen frowned thinking she understood why he had insisted that Jane stayed an extra week.
Refusing to admit a bitter surge of jealousy, Helen wandered restlessly until lunch. Her illness had left her easily depressed and the as yet unsolved problem of her future didn’t help. A little winter sunshine crept through the windows but it wasn’t bright enough to cheer her up.
Her thoughts kept returning to Stein and Jane.
Undoubtedly Stein was a brilliant tactician. Helen didn’t know why she hadn’t realised this until now. He had kept the nurse here as much for his own benefit as Helen’s. She must have helped to enliven a few very dull winter evenings.
Angrily Helen wondered what all the care he had lavished on her during the past days really amounted to.
He probably considered it was his fault she had been so ill, as he had made her go swimming. He must have believed he owed her something, because, during the worst nights of her illness, whenever she had opened her eyes he had been there. And once, when she had admittedly been burning up and delirious, she had thought she had heard him quarrelling with the nurse over her. The next morning, when she had been lucid again and asked about it, Jane had muttered crossly something about Mr Maddison being extremely highhanded and trying to teach her her own busines.
It was comforting to know someone else realised he had his faults, Helen thought bitterly, without stopping to consider whether she was being fair or not. He might have been justified in accusing her of throwing her weight about, but she hoped she never did it quite so indiscriminately!
Perhaps, she brooded, she should have done more to encourage his friendship with Jane. Helen was annoyed with herself for not having thought of this sooner. She might have saved herself the trouble of struggling to join them these last few evenings for dinner. She didn' t ask herself why she had, especially when, to begin with anyway, the effort had nearly been too much for her. It wasn’t as if she had contributed a great deal to the conversation either. Usually she had’ sat in a daze of weariness and must have looked as though she was about to pass out any minute. Which, unfortunately, had kept Stein’s eyes on her instead of Jane, as he obviously hadn’t been prepared for the embarrassment of having her fainting all over his dinner table!
Ignoring how the thought of them dining alone had been unendurable, Helen now decided she had been very foolish. If Stein had a fiancee or wife he would have to let her go! No other woman would tolerate her living here alone with him. Somehow she had to convince him he would be better off married and concentrating on a wife and family instead of herself.
She couldn’t understand why such a brilliant idea should make her feel almost ill again.
In fact she felt so miserable and desperately lonely that when a friend rang just before lunch, asking her to tea, she accepted gratefully.
‘I heard you were getting better,’ Beryl said eagerly, ‘and you did promise when I saw you ill the Village, remember? I’m simply dying to hear all your news!’
Helen did remember. It was the day she and Stein had quarrelled over the trees Charlie Parkinson had been cutting down. She had met Beryl in the village that afternoon and promised to call. The Phillips were neighbours, and if they had never been close friends, she and Beryl had met frequently at local events.
She accepted Beryl’s invitation with something akin to relief. She had been going out daily for a walk with Jane and she missed her cheerful company. The rest of the day didn’t seem to stretch so endlessly, now she had something to look forward to.
Beryl promised she would send her brother to pick Helen up as she had no transport and Helen told Mrs Swinden where she was going as she went to get ready.
Mrs Swinden might not have turned over a completely new leaf, but since Helen had been ill she had treated her with much more respect. Helen wasn’t sure if respect was quite the right word, but she didn’t feel up to trying to discover whether Mrs Swinden’s new attitude was genuine or not.
Gary Phillips arrived promptly at three-thirty and drove Helen straight to his home. It had been over four years since she had seen him, as he had’ been abroad.
She smiled as she ran to meet him on the drive, to save him the bother of getting out of his car, and he whistled when he saw her.
‘Who’d have thought it?’ he exclaimed with a laugh, out of the car in a flash, ~s good manners and the extremely attractive picture Helen made prompted him to exert himself. ‘The last time we met I think you had pigtails and a brace on your teeth.’
‘I was still at school,’ she admitted the pigtails but not the brace. ‘That must have been someone else.’
He grinned. ‘Now you’re a beautiful woman.’
; ‘I’m twenty-one,’ she acknowledged that much. ‘Almost.’
‘A great age,‘ he laughed, tucking her in carefully.
She liked Gary. He drove a low, racy sports model and was fun. She discovered he was very easy to talk to and didn’t disturb her the way Stein did. He must be about thirty, she thought, for he was older than Beryl, and she didn’t think he was married.
High Towers, his home, was definitely a showplace.
Helen hadn’t been there for a long time, but it didn’t seem to have changed. Mr. and Mrs Phillips were out but Beryl said her mother would be in later and hoped Helen would stay to dinner.
Helen hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t refuse because of Stein, .as she believed he might be staying in town this evening. She had thought, these last few days, that her lack of interest had annoyed him, but for her own sake she had tried to put some distance between them. One day he would get tired of baiting her and throw her out, and she was becoming increasingly certain that if she escaped with nothing worse than a few bruises she might be lucky. Bruises would fade, but she knew of no cure for a broken heart.
Chains of Regret Page 12
