by Ria
relentlessly. 'I have yet to discover whether there's a total lack of interest, or
whether it's merely a facade behind which you hide your true self.'
Tour efforts will be in vain, and when you discover this ... what then?'
Rudolph shrugged carelessly. 'There are many ways a man can amuse
himself when he has a wife who lacks interest.'
'Divorce?' she offered hopefully.
His tight smile was a mockery. 'That's a subject we won't discuss yet.
We've only been married a little over a month.'
'Does it matter how long we've been married?'
'I don't give up that easily.'
Her heart lurched uncomfortably as she raised her glance to his. 'Don't tell
me you're hoping to make a success of our marriage?'
'A reasonable success, yes. In time you might begin to smile again.' His
glance was thoughtful. 'Have you forgotten how to laugh, Janey?'
'Are you planning a rehabilitation of my character? Like building up a
sand castle you'd previously smashed in a fit of passion?' she demanded
distastefully. 'Is this what your conscience dictates?'
She was unprepared for the leaping flames of anger in his eyes, and the
fierceness of those lean, strong hands as they gripped her wrists and jerked
her to her feet. 'I wouldn't talk about conscience, if I were you, Janey. Your
conscience can't be in such wonderful shape when you think of how you left
me in ignorance for two years about the fact that you'd had my child. If I
hadn't made that chance visit to your home, I would still have been in ignor-
ance.'
The frightened thudding of her heart almost choked her as she lowered her
glance to the cleft in his square, determined chin. 'I did what I thought was
for the best.'
He released her with an exclamation of disgust, and she took an
involuntary step backwards, rubbing her wrists where the marks left by his
fingers were clearly visible.
'I have yet to decipher the workings of a woman's mind,' he said harshly,
'and it appears I have one of the most illogical specimens at hand to observe
at my leisure.'
'If you've quite finished
'
'No, I haven't finished!' he interrupted with force, and she flinched
inwardly. 'You fling accusations around like mud pies in an alley fight, but
you squeal when one happens to strike you. I told you once before, we're in
this thing together, so let's not massacre each other in the process. I'm
prepared to meet you halfway in every respect, but I certainly won't bend
over backwards for someone who's downright stubborn.' His chest heaved as
he drew a deep breath to control himself;'And another thing—if you want
my support during difficult moments with family and friends, then you'll
have to earn it by knocking that chip off your shoulder before it becomes a
boulder, and buries you beneath its weight.'
The truth stung with the viciousness of a whip, but she managed to remain
outwardly calm. 'Was there anything else?'
'No.' Janey turned blindly to leave, but as her fingers touched the polished
brass door-knob, he continued. 'Ex- cept that I thought you looked lovely
last night, and I wouldn't like to see you in Marguerite's outlandish creations
either. If you wish to renew your wardrobe, then go to the place of your own
choice, and stick to the style that suits your slenderness.'
Completely disarmed by this swift change from the censorious to the
complimentary, she could only stand and stare at him in speechless
confusion.
'Esme doesn't have any lectures to attend this morning,' he went on,
apparently unaware of the effect his differing tactics had had on her. 'I've
arranged that she shall drive you into town, and take you to the places she
and my mother usually frequent.'
Was this the reason for Esme's tears? Janey wondered swiftly, regaining
her composure as she murmured her thanks.
'There's something else,' he continued abruptly. 'As soon as you know
your way around, I shall buy you. a small car for your private use. You do
have a driver's licence, I presume?'
'Yes, but- '
'That's settled, then.'
'No, it isn't,' she contradicted, catching her breath. 'I don't want you to buy
me a car. If I need to take a trip to town, I shall take a bus.'
Rudolph's glance was incredulous. 'Am I to understand that you're
refusing my gift?'
Janey's hand tightened nervously on the door-knob. 'Yes, lam.'
'You astonish me,' he laughed cynically. 'I would have * thought you
would jump at the opportunity of having your own conveyance.'
Janey frowned, sensing a dangerous undercurrent to his remark, although
the explanation escaped her.
'I would prefer it if you didn't buy me such an expensive gift,' she said
slowly, choosing her words with care. 'I appreciate the thought, but it isn't
necessary.'
A silence descended between them that made her wonder frantically
whether she had done the right thing by refusing his generosity so
adamantly, for Rudolph's tight- lipped expression looked anything but
promising.
'As you wish,' he said eventually, breaking the silence abruptly. 'But I shall
expect you to make use of the allowance I've provided for you.'
She nodded, avoiding his glance. 'There's something I've wanted to ask
you. Those toys in the nursery—did you buy them?'
'I asked Esme to make a selection for me.'
'Thank you. It was very kind of you.' She caught her trembling lip between
her teeth and turned quickly.
'Are you finding it difficult to accept things from me?'
'It's something I shall have to get used to,' she replied without turning,
opening the door and escaping before the lump in her throat forced the tears
to her eyes.
Driving into town with Esme was a strain on Janey. Although Esme was
polite, she made it perfectly clear that she had no wish to further their
relationship, and Janey eventually lapsed into silence, giving up the effort to
draw her companion into conversation.
Esme's scornful glances watched every move while she did her shopping,
but she determinedly shrugged off her discomfort and concentrated on
purchasing a selection of evening gowns for the formal dinners in the Brink
home. She had never bought such expensive clothing beforehand the total
sum of her purchases left her gasping for breath. But, determined not to give
herself away, she signed her name with a flourish in the.new cheque book,
and adopted an air of casualness.
She thought of suggesting tea somewhere, but Esme's detached behaviour
made her relinquish the idea, and they returned home in silence. Esme
helped her carry some of her parcels up to her room, but, before Janey could
thank her, she turned away and closed the door firmly behind her. Janey's
eyes clouded with hurt, but Dora brought Andrew through from the nursery
at that moment, and everything was forgotten for a time except the
cuddlesome warmth of that little body in her arms.
Before taking Andrew down to the kitchen for his lunch, Dora helped her
unwrap the parcels, giving her approval on every gown before
she hung it in
the wardrobe. Afterwards Janey barely had time to powder her nose and
comb her hair, before she, too, had to rush downstairs to the dining-room.
With Esme attending lectures at the university that afternoon, and Mrs
-Brink retiring to her room, Janey was left with nothing to do. Andrew was
asleep, and Dora was down in the laundry doing the ironing. It would be two
hours at least before he awoke, enough time to explore that room in the attic
which had caught her eye because of the heavy curtains draped in front of
the door. There appeared to be several other bedrooms in their section of the
house, some of them along that short passage leading off the main one. She
had no idea how many there actually were, but she intended to find out.
With Mrs Brink and Esme in the other wing of the house, Janey had the
entire west wing to herself.
An hour later she had discovered that, besides Rudolph's suite, which was
just opposite hers, there were three more bedrooms in that section, with a
linen room and two extra bathrooms for their guests. It was ridiculous, she
thought to herself, giggling at the thought that each section could house a
large family.
The mystery room at the end of the passage, she left for last, nervous now
to discover what lay beyond it. She carefully climbed the narrow flight of
steps, and drew aside the curtain to find the key hanging on a peg beside the
door. Inserting it in the lock, she turned it without difficulty, but her heart
was hammering wildly when she finally turned the handle and stepped
inside.
She was not sure what she had expected to find but this large, sparsely
furnished room took her completely by surprise. Like all the other rooms, it
was obviously cleaned daily, for there was no sign of dust, or cobwebs. The
furnishings were old, and certainly not in keeping with the splendour of the
rest of the house. The heavy silk bedspread had lost several of its tassels, and
the crocheted cloth, covering the round table in the centre of the room, had
yellowed with age. Beside the table stood an old cane chair, with two loose
cushions on it. Comfort and simplicity were the two words that came to
mind as she went across to the window and drew aside the frayed curtains to
let in the light. It was a room that had been lived in once, but it was no
longer in use, although not entirely neglected.
As she turned away from the window, it felt as though every breath had
been squeezed from her body. Against the opposite wall hung the portrait of
a woman dressed in the fashion of the late nineteenth century, but it was not
her mode of dress that caught Janey's eye ... it was the look of sadness in her
clear grey eyes that held her rapt attention. The hair was auburn with a touch
of gold in it as the light caught it, the brows fine and straight, the nose small,
and the mouth decidedly vulnerable. Those eyes seemed to come alive as
Janey continued to stare at her, the sadness giving way to a sudden warmth,
conveying a message Janey could not quite grasp.
This woman was not a stranger to Janey, she had seen her somewhere
before—but where? Why was her portrait hidden away in this attic room and
not among those imposing family portraits lining the wall along the stairs?
Was she perhaps not part of the Brink family? She searched those grey eyes,
but they merely smiled down at her tolerantly, with that touch of sadness in
their depths that caught at her heart. ‘I’ll find out the reason for your
sadness, she told the woman in the portrait. ‘I’ll find out, but I suppose it's
too late to do anything about it. Almost a hundred years too late.
Janey's thoughts dwelled on that portrait hidden away in that attic room,
and for the rest of the afternoon she could think of nothing else but the
strange affinity that seemed to exist between herself and that woman. It was
as though those beautifully shaped hands had reached out and touched her
soul with a gesture of pleading, but pleading for what? Understanding?
Sympathy? Love, perhaps?
She pondered this question while she bathed and changed into the
cinnamon-coloured shantung she had selected to wear that evening. There
was no fault to be found with the expensive cut of this gown, she thought
when she paused in front of the mirror for a final inspection of her
appearance. It clung softly to her small but firm breasts, to fall in soft folds
about her feet.
She had been fortunate enough to regain her figure after Andrew's birth,
but there was a maturity in her grey eyes, she noticed, that belied her girlish
slenderness. She had left her hair down, brushed back from her face to fall in
gentle waves to her shoulders, and the only item of jewellery she chose to
wear was the emerald green brooch Alison had given her on her twenty-first
birthday.
After a last look at Andrew, she went down to the living- room, hovering
only briefly on the landing to glance up at the portrait of a man who bore a
striking resemblance to Rudolph, except for the small moustache on the
upper lip. The eyes met hers with just as much speculation as Rudolph's, she
thought, shivering slightly as she continued on her way.
CHAPTER FIVE
WITHOUT Sybil's distracting influence, the atmosphere at dinner was more
relaxed that evening. Mrs Brink appeared less wary, and Esm6 made polite
conversation, although Janey could tell that her heart was not in it. On
several occasions she caught Rudolph's speculative glance resting on her, but
his eyes would instantly become veiled and impersonal.
Coffee was served in the living-room, and this, Janey discovered, was the
time when the family unwound themselves to discuss the events of the day.
She did not participate in the conversation, but watched in amazement as
Esme shed her cloak of formality to speak enthusiastically about her studies.
Listening intently to what she had to say, Janey recalled nostalgically the
evenings she had spent with Alison, and several other students, comparing
notes on the lectures and events of the day. Her student days had been
carefree days, despite the hours of study involved, she thought with a sigh.
What a pity she had wished those three years away, yearning for the day she
would graduate when, at that moment, she longed to be back in those
draughty corridors of the College building.
Mrs Brink finally excused herself and retired to her room. Janey followed
her example soon afterwards, but, to her surprise, she found Rudolph beside
her as she reached the stairs. She glanced at him nervously, but said nothing
as their footsteps fell silently on the carpeted steps.
'That's my great-grandfather,' he explained when she hesitated
momentarily beside the portrait of the imperious gentleman with the small
moustache.
'The resemblance is quite striking.'
'So I'm told.'
Janey fell silent, conscious of his tallness and the remote expression on his
strong face. Once, so long ago it seemed, she had held that face between her
hands, and had found pleasure in the touch of his lips on her own, but that
was before he
r discovery that he belonged to another.
'May I come in and take a look at Andrew?' Rudolph interrupted her
thoughts, as they stopped outside her door.
Janey nodded, her heart thudding uncomfortably as she led the way and
watched in astonishment as Rudolph lowered the side of the cot, taking that
small hand between his strong fingers and raising it to his lips.
'I wish I had more time to spend with him,' he whispered, not relinquishing
his hold on Andrew's hand. 'Children grow up so swiftly, and there's so little
time to have the pleasure of observing them during the process.'
Astounded at the transformation on that harsh face, she could only stand
and stare in silence. This was the face of the Rudolph she had known ... and
loved once, but she had been deceived by his sincerity, she reminded herself,
and the melting warmth about her heart was instantly checked. She would
not be trapped into loving him again, only to be discarded in favour of the
husky-voiced Sybil Rampling, who so obviously claimed his heart.
He covered the sleeping child and raised the side of the cot, gesturing that
they should leave the nursery.
'I telephoned your parents from the office this morning,' he said once they
were in her room. 'I felt they ought to know you'd arrived safely.'
'That wasn't necessary,' she replied stiffly.
'I know you said you would write to them, but I felt it my duty to assure
them that you were both comfortably settled, and well.'
'Your duty!' she snorted almost derisively. 'How right and proper you make
it all sound. You're all at once so duty-conscious that it sickens me.'
'Janey!' Those strong fingers bruised the softness of her shoulders.
'Don't touch me!' She brushed off his hands, but it was too late. She had
experienced the almost forgotten current of awareness tingling along her
nerves, and it left a trail of weakness she despised.
There was an ominous silence in the room as they faced each other, with
the drapes of the four-poster bed casting deep shadows between them.
'Are we to be enemies, Janey?' he asked eventually, almost incredulously.
'Is that what you want?'
She regained her composure swiftly. 'I wish you'd never come into my life
again!'
His eyes glittered with a frightening anger. 'But, I am in your-life, Janey,
and I intend to remain. So, if it's war you want, allow me to lodge the first
