"I'd rather you knew more about me. I'd certainly like to know about you. I can't think why Helen didn't put me next to you tonight."
"Perhaps she thought I'd find your father more amusing!"
"Oh dear, you're not a fairy after all. Just a pussy cat." He held out his arms. "Would you care to dance with me?"
"Here?"
"And now!"
Smiling, she stepped closer and he started to sing and waltz her over the lawn. Her skirts billowed out as they twirled round and round.
"You're as a light as a blossom," he whispered. "What's your name?"
"Sharon."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
He swung her to stop and, as he did, she saw Adam and Helen come through the French windows.
"We have an audience,"she murmured.
The young man looked behind him. "Hi!" he called. "Come and join the party."
"The party's up here," Helen drawled. "But we don't mind if you'd rather be alone."
Sharon pulled away from Tony's arm and moved toward the house, conscious of Adam's stony gaze. "I was getting a breath of air. It was hot inside."
"You'll hardly cool off by cavorting around the lawn." Helen sounded amused.
"We weren't cavorting," Tony said. "We were dancing on a cloud." He touched Sharon's silver blond hair. "Let's go in and play two-handed bridge; then no one can make nasty remarks!"
"It's time we were leaving," Adam interposed.
"Just my luck!" Tony said, still looking at Sharon. "May I call you during the weekend?"
She hesitated and Helen laughed. "Why ask the obvious, Tony? Sharon will be delighted for you to call her."
"Thanks for answering for me, Helen." Anger tightened Sharon's voice. "When I want a personal secretary I'll know who to ask."
"I'm not open to offers, "Helen drawled.
"I thought you were!"
Tony smothered a laugh and Sharon walked toward the house. She was by the French window when Helen called her.
"By the way, I saw you coming out of the Palace Park Hotel today. But you were so preoccupied you didn't see me." She paused and, when Sharon said nothing, said with amusement, "I hope I haven't said something I shouldn't?"
"Not at all. I was only visiting one of my lovers!"
This time Tony's laugh was loud and, on its echo, Sharon went inside to collect her wrap.
She was waiting in the car when Adam came out.
"You might have said good night to the other guests," he said. "It was rude to leave without a word."
"Blame your lady love. She's the one who's rude."
He did not reply and they drove a little way in silence.
"You made a conquest of Tony," he said at last. "What do you think of him?"
"He's charming."
"Nicer than Simon?"
"They're different."
"Don't try and play one off against the other."
"Which one would you prefer me to play with?" she asked. As she noticed his hands clenching on the wheel, she knew a thrill of triumph.
"Neither. All I want is for you to leave here."
"And to leave you in peace."
"I'll never know that any more," he grated. "You've successfully destroyed any hopes I ever had of…"
She waited, longing for him to see her as she was today and not as he believed her to have been. Yet was Sharon Moore any better than Sharon Peters? The difference lay only in degree, she thought ruefully; the difference between one thousand pounds and several.
"Don't you believe people can change?" she asked huskily.
"Only to a limited extent."
"But some people change entirely. After they've had a traumatic shock or… a religious experience."
"Maybe that Joes happen," he shrugged. "But I've never seen it for myself. And if you're trying to make me believe you're different from when you arrived here…"He paused. "You've one way to prove it."
"How?"
"If you can ask that, you've only proved my belief. All that's changed about you is your hairstyle!"
She moistened her lips. Her conscience urged her to tell him the truth. Tell him and put herself at his mercy. She stole a glance at him and, seeing his firm jaw and strong neck, his narrowed eyes and tightly controlled mouth, knew she could not expect any clemency.
Yet in this moment she also knew she could not follow Sharon Peters's wicked plan. She would leave Green Spinney tomorrow, the moment Adam had left the house. But she would also leave him a letter telling him the whole story and where he could contact his real sister-in-law.
"When I… when I go away," she stammered. "I h-hope you won't think too badly of me. I'm not a very nice person, but I… I could never be as despicable as you think lam."
"At least we're progressing," he said calmly. "For the first time you admit you're not a nice person. Care to confess a bit more?"
His sarcasm completely destroyed the last shreds of any thoughts she had of telling him the truth rather than writing it, and when she answered, her voice was bleak. "The list is far too long to recite. When I've left Green Spinney I'll write you a letter."
"I always knew you—"
But what Adam knew was never disclosed, for just then Green Spinney came in sight, and the lights blazing from the house indicated that something was wrong. In a burst of speed they reached the front door. Adam was the first out of the car, and he raced up to Beryl, who was running toward him.
"I tried to reach you at Miss Helen's but you'd already left."
"Mother?" he said.
"Yes. Nurse has already called the doctor."
With swift strides Adam made for the stairs, Sharon close on his heels. Outside the door of his mother's room he paused, then quietly tapped on the door, pausing again as the nurse appeared.
"It's a gastric attack," she said quietly. "I'd rather you didn't see her until the doctor has seen her."
"Tell her I'm here," Adam said. "Knowing I'm in the house will comfort her."
The nurse nodded and closed the door, and Sharon, not waiting to see what Adam did, hurried to her own room. It was impossible for her to leave Green Spinney now. Until Mrs. Peters had recovered-or died—she was trapped.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
An hour later Beryl knocked on Sharon's door and told her Adam wished to see her in the library.
"Now?"
"Yes. The doctor's just left."
Smoothing her hair, Sharon sped downstairs. Adam was standing beside the mantelpiece, drumming his fingers on its marble top.
"Your mother?" she asked breathlessly.
"She's holding her own. Apparently there's a virus going around, and in her weakened state…"
"If there's anything I can do…"
"There is!" Unexpectedly he stepped closer to her. "You can give me your word you won't leave here until she's fully recovered."
"Do you need my word for that? Don't you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt her? "
For a moment his eyes roved over her face, as though trying to probe it, then he nodded and stepped back.
"It's just that the way you spoke in the car gave me the impression you were leaving."
"Your impression was right," she said, turning to the door "But not now. Now I'll stay."
In her room again, she undressed and, stretching out on the bed, stared into the darkness. Sharon Peters had given her two weeks to fulfill her side of the bargain. If she didn't, the woman would come here. Of course, she could let the woman know she was already named in Mrs. Peters's will—Adam had affirmed this—but the second part of what had to be done—getting a bigger allowance from him—was something that as yet had to be asked for.
The ignominy of doing this brought a wave of shame rushing over her. If only she could leave Green Spinney before the end of the two weeks.
The next morning Mrs. Peters had rallied sufficiently for Sharon to visit her, and though she looked frail, she managed her usual perky smile.
"I can only stay a
few minutes, darling," Sharon said, bending to kiss her. "You need lots of rest today, but I'll come in and see you again tonight."
"I hope you won't be bored being left so much to yourself. I'm afraid I'll wake up one morning and find you've gone."
"Not without saying a very long goodbye! "Sharon chided. "You've made me far too comfortable here."
"This is your home, child. You know that."
If only it was, Sharon thought as she went downstairs for breakfast. Adam had already left the house and for the rest of the day she would be on her own.
At lunchtime Tony rang to ask her to have dinner with him that evening, but she refused, giving her mother-in-law's illness as the excuse.
As she replaced the telephone she half regretted turning him down. After all, she was not doing any good hanging about the house. However it was too late to change her mind and she returned to the dining room.
At tea time Simon called by for a short while. He was as sympathetic as always and she nearly confided her problems to him. Yet if she did she would be establishing an intimacy between them he might easily misconstrue and, for this reason more than any other, she kept her own counsel.
Adam returned while Simon was still talking to her and abruptly called him into the library to discuss some new boundary on the other side of the copse. She did not see Simon again before he left and, hearing his car drive away, took refuge in her room.
But she could not hide there the entire evening, and she was forced to dine with Adam and make an effort at conversation. Both were careful not to say anything controversial, and when the meal was over, his relief appeared as heartfelt as her own.
By the end of the week Mrs. Peters had made a marked improvement and Sharon felt free to leave the house for longer and longer intervals. Sometimes she went walking with Sandy, but mostly she went with Simon, accompanying him on his visits to the various farms on the estate.
Of Adam she saw little. He drove to London more frequently and would often return after dinner, giving the impression that had it not been for his mother's condition, he would not have returned at all.
One morning, two weeks after Helen's dinner party, Sharon went to Mrs. Peters's room and found her walking around.
"Dr. Matthews says I'm so much better he's going to let me get up for a little while today!"
"How marvelous!" Sharon was delighted. "That means you'll soon be downstairs and bossing us all again."
"I can't wait! I told you I was tougher than I looked, didn't I? It won't be long before we'll be going on a shopping expedition again."
No words could more clearly have reminded Sharon that her own days there were numbered. It was a painful realisation, for with each passing week she had grown to feel more at home here and more deeply in love with Adam.
His dark good looks filled her mind, waking and sleeping, and she knew that never to see him again would leave an emptiness in her life that no one else would be able to fill. If only she dared believe he would forgive her when he learned her true identity. But to hope this was to misunderstand his character. He had such a rigid sense of right and wrong that he would never condone her conduct. Indeed, she could not condone it herself.
The telephone shrilled and she stared at it with loathing, afraid it was the call she was dreading. Sharon Peters must be becoming restless and would, without doubt, come here unless she was forestalled.
But luckily it was Simon, and she felt such a sense of reprieve that her greeting bordered on effusion.
'Of course, I'd love to go on a picnic," she said. "But give me time to get it organised."
"I've already done it. I've a hamper packed, the car polished and the day free. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."
Sitting in Simon's sports car a little while later, the countryside unwinding in front of them, Sharon was affected by the high spirits of the man next to her and felt more carefree than she had for some time. How kind he had been to her when she had most needed kindness; how patient when most men would long since have turned their attention to more affectionate sources.
"Penny for your thoughts," he said. "You've been silent so long they must be worth at least that!"
"I was thinking how nice you are," she said impulsively.
"I told you I grow on people!" he joked. "Next thing you know you'll be thinking me handsome."
Soon they turned off the main road and drove down a narrow country lane. The branches of the trees on both sides formed an archway, darkening the day to green shadow. But ahead it glowed bright again, as if they were being heralded to another world.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Wait and see."
He nosed the car into an opening in the hedgerow, stopped it and helped her to alight.
"We'll have to walk the rest of the way," he announced. "But you'll find it's worth it."
She followed him over a stile, across a field and into a wood. Skirting a stream, they walked through an enchanting forest glade and emerged into a bower of green bordered by slender birches. The air was so still and heavy it was almost tangible, and except for the occasional twittering of a bird, the silence was complete.
"It's heavenly!" she exclaimed. "I bet it's where Oberon found Titania."
"You know your Shakespeare," he teased.
"Not only the popular plays. I'm well up on the Tragedies, too." She stopped and frowned. "Now how did I know that?"
"Your memory's coming back. One day you'll remember everything."
Soberly she sat down and he flopped beside her. For a while they lay staring upward at the brilliant blue of the sky. A bee buzzed near her ear, but she was too lazy to move and presently it flew away.
She sat up and looked at Simon. His steady breathing told her he was asleep, and quietly slipping off her sandals, she wandered down the bank to the stream. The water lapped her toes and she shivered with delight.
"Hey there! Fancy sneaking off like that!"
Glancing up, she saw Simon pulling off his shoes and socks. Within a minute they were both wading up and down like a couple of children.
"I don't know about you," he said at last, "but this has given me an appetite for lunch."
"Me, too."
Hand in hand they returned to the glade, where she unpacked the hamper—chicken, salad, tongue, and small individual apple pies—while Simon cooled two cans of beer in the stream.
When they finished eating they strolled through the wood, enjoying its green coolness, and it was only as they retraced their steps that Simon caught her by the arm and turned her to face him.
"I want to talk to you, Sharon. I can't go on pretending to be friends when I love you so much. You know how I feel and—"
"You know how I feel," she interrupted. "And I haven't changed."
"You won't let yourself. You're afraid of being hurt again."
"Again?"
"You couldn't have been happy with Rufus. Adam may have been blind to his brother's faults but I wasn't. Rufus couldn't keep any woman happy for long. That's why you're afraid of*me. You don't want to make another mistake."
"You couldn't be more wrong!"
She almost told him the truth, held back only by a reluctance she couldn't define, as if she didn't want him to know something that Adam didn't.
"I love you," Simon repeated, "and I want to marry you. If only you'd give yourself a chance to care for me, I know I could make you happy."
Her lips formed the word "no" and then stopped. Perhaps marriage to Simon was the solution to her problems. He loved her and she was fond of him; in time she might even come to love him, and at least if she became his wife her future would be assured. If she left Green Spinney she would have nowhere to go and, unless her memory returned, she would live the rest of her life in limbo. With Simon as her husband it would not matter if her past remained a blank.
"I don't know what to say," she murmured. "There's so much about myself I don't know. You'd have to take me on trust. I may have done some awful things in
the past."
"I'd trust you with my life," he said huskily. "And my past hasn't been blameless, either."
Instantly she remembered the conversation she had overhead between him and Adam. "You don't need to tell me anything if you don't want to," she whispered. "I'll take you on trust, too."
"Darling."
He drew her head down to rest on his shoulder. He sensed she didn't wish to be kissed and contented himself with stroking her hair and whispering endearments.
"I have so many things to tell you, Sharon, but I don't want to spoil this moment. Let's not think about anything except us.''
It was dusk when he left her at Green Spinney, promising to call her later.
"I need time to think," she pleaded. "I haven't made up my mind."
"Let me make your decisions. Rely on me, Sharon."
With a shake of her head, she entered the house. She was halfway up the stairs when Adam came out of the library and called her.
"You're late," he said curtly. "Mother's been asking for you."
"Simon and I went on a picnic."
"Still playing around with him!" he exclaimed. "Won't you ever learn?"
"Learn what? That I should obey you when you order me to stop seeing him?"
"Don't you know it's for your own good?"
"You don't give a damn about my good! If you did, you wouldn't be so anxious to get rid of me."
"Do you suggest I keep you here permanently?"
His question reminded her she was not what she pretended, and her anger abated. But her hurt remained and, determined not to let him guess it, she said, "I don't want you to interfere in my life. I may marry Simon and I'd rather you didn't say anything about him that you'll regret."
"All I regret is that I haven't said a few things about him before." Adam was so pale with anger that his tanned skin was robbed of warmth. "Though why I should care if you're cited in a divorce case is beyond me. Maybe you'd enjoy seeing your picture in the tabloids."
"What divorce case?"
"The one Jane will bring when she finds out about you."
"Why should his sister—"
"Sister?" Adam barked. Then he laughed. "So that's what he's told you? Well, I'm sorry to shatter your illusions— though I guess they deserve to be shattered—but Jane happens to be his wife."
Rachel Lindsay - Forgotten Marriage Page 11
