Family Secrets: A Classic Romance

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Your past has come back to haunt you. Some of your party guests may turn out to be much more than they appear. I think it’s time for us to discuss a fee for my silence. Watch for my next note. It will be most important.

  “Oh, no.”

  The words on the page blurred. The old woman felt a buzzing in her ears as if from a great swarm of bees. The letter fell from her hands. The stairs in front of her seemed to waver, then fall away from her. She crumpled to the floor.

  * * *

  Ivy was tired of waiting for the maid. All she wanted was to soak in a nice warm tub, and then dress for dinner. But first she needed her clothes. As she opened her bedroom door and started down the hallway, she heard Gertrude’s muffled exclamation, followed by a muted thump.

  From the top of the stairs, she saw the limp form of the old woman sprawled facedown below her. In an instant she was at her side.

  “Aunt Tru.” She rolled the heavy form over and felt for a pulse at her throat. Relieved to find her alive, she began loosening the buttons at her neck.

  “Chester. Chester.” Frantically kneeling over the prone figure, she vigorously rubbed the cold hands.

  Relief flooded through Ivy at the sight of Caine at the top of the stairs. As he rushed to them, she called “Hurry, Caine. I don’t know what’s happened.”

  The front door opened. The butler ran to them, then, seeing Miss St. Martin’s unconscious form, he hurried to the phone. “I’ll call her doctor.”

  “Chester, is she taking any medication?” Caine touched a hand to Trudy’s forehead.

  “Not that I know of,” the butler called as he dialed the number.

  White Ivy and Caine rubbed her hands, a little color began returning to Trudy’s ashen face. Her lids fluttered open and she stared wordlessly from one to the other.

  “Thank goodness. Aunt Tru, what happened?”

  The old woman stared at Ivy for long moments, then turned to Caine. She could read the concern in their eyes. Looking away, she whispered, “I must have exercised too vigorously. It was nothing. I just fainted.”

  “People don’t faint for no reason,” Caine protested.

  “I’m old, Caine,” she snapped, trying to sit up.

  “Sometimes I think you’re younger than I am. Now lie still. Chester’s calling the doctor.”

  “No. I won’t have it. Chester,” she commanded, “hang up that phone this instant.”

  Confused, the butler glanced at Caine.

  “I want the doctor to look at her,” Caine ordered. Chester began to speak into the phone.

  “You hang that up, do you hear? And help me to my bed.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until the doctor has a look at you.”

  Aunt Trudy’s voice grew stronger. Her face was pink with rage. “I will not be seen lying on the floor. I insist that you take me to my room.”

  As Caine lifted her, she turned to Ivy. “And you can retrieve my mail and bring it to me.”

  Ivy nodded.

  While Caine mounted the stairs with his burden, Ivy bent to her task. The letters had scattered all over the foyer floor. One envelope, she noted, had been torn open. Searching for its contents, she spied a paper tucked into a corner under the stairs. She picked it up, straightened, then placed it on top of the other letters. Quickly scooping up the rest of the mail, she hurried to catch up with Caine.

  In the elegant master bedroom, Caine lowered his aunt to her bed.

  “I don’t want you to get up until the doctor has had a chance to examine you. I’d rather not have you fall again.”

  Gertrude’s temper flared. “I won’t be treated like some weak old woman.”

  In his concern for her, his voice hardened. “Downstairs, you wanted to blame this on being old. Now you’re resisting it. Make up your mind, Trudy.”

  Overhearing him, Ivy resented the way he was browbeating his aunt. “Caine.”

  He turned at the sound of Ivy’s voice.

  “Here’s your aunt’s mail. Where would you like me to put it?”

  Distractedly running a hand through his hair, he muttered, “I don’t care. Anywhere.”

  “I want it,” his aunt commanded.

  Something in her tone caught his attention. He took the mail from Ivy’s hands and began to hand it to Gertrude. His gaze fell on the opened letter on the top of the pile. Turning away, he scanned the strange message. His puzzled look slowly gave way to an angry frown.

  He glanced at his aunt. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave this bed.”

  With his hand firmly gripping Ivy’s arm, he hauled her roughly out of the room. In the hallway, he brandished the letter. “Where the hell did you get this?”

  She yanked her arm away and rubbed it gingerly. “Do you enjoy bruising me?” With a glance at the letter, she said, “I picked it up near the stairs. The envelope was opened. Evidently Aunt Tru was reading it on her way upstairs. Why? What’s wrong?”

  He regarded her suspiciously. “You don’t know what’s in here?”

  She shook her head, and he turned back toward the bedroom.

  “Well, aren’t you going to let me read it?”

  He paused a moment, then turned around to study her questioning look.

  “No. If you’re telling the truth, I think it’s better that you don’t know.”

  “If I’m...” Her voice rose. “You’re calling me a liar?”

  “Look, Ivy. Stay out of this.”

  “I’m already in it. I was the one who found your aunt. Remember?”

  “Yes. And the one who found this letter.” His tone grew ominous. “Very convenient.”

  She followed on his heels as he stormed into his aunt’s bedroom, bewildered by his next words.

  “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”

  For long moments Gertrude stared at the letter in her nephew’s hand. Then she did something completely out of character. She rolled to her side and began to cry.

  Stunned, Ivy and Caine could only stare at this unbelievable scene. In all the years they had known this iron-willed woman, they’d never seen her cry.

  With a strangled sound, Ivy snatched the letter from Caine’s hand and read it quickly. A feeling of revulsion swept over her.

  “Why would someone do this to her?”

  Caine was watching her reaction closely. Glancing at the sobbing woman, he shrugged. “I don’t know. But I intend to get to the bottom of this.” He took the letter from Ivy’s hand and folded it before shoving it in his pocket.

  “But why—”

  “I said stay out of this, Ivy. It isn’t your concern.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. Dropping to the side of the bed, she touched the old woman’s shoulder and watched helplessly as she cried out her fears.

  * * *

  The doctor snapped his bag shut and marched down the stairs to the foyer, where Caine and Ivy were anxiously waiting for him.

  “Your aunt seems fine.” He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. At this moment, she was probably in better health than his wife, who was no doubt pacing the floor over their interrupted dinner plans.

  “People don’t faint for no reason,” Caine said evenly.

  “Your aunt is eighty years old, young man. When we’re her age, we’ll probably do a lot of things for no reason. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  The butler helped him on with his coat and handed him his bag. With a brisk handshake, he was gone.

  * * *

  Ivy made her way downstairs to the music room. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass panels, it overlooked terraced gardens that Ivy remembered as being a riot of spring color. As she entered, Gertrude and Caine, deep in conversation, looked up. Their talk ceased abruptly.

  Embarrassed, Ivy paused in the doorway. “I see I’m early. If you’d like me to wait...”

  “No. Come in. Caine was just going to fix us a drink. What would you like?”

  She hesitated a moment longer, then took several steps into the room. “Wine. So
mething dry and red if you have it.” She recalled the way Aunt Tru’s favorite whiskey had burned. She’d rather not chance it again.

  “And I’ll have my usual,” Gertrude said. Her gaze skimmed Ivy’s dress. “I approve. Much better than those awful jeans.”

  From his vantage point at the bar, Caine studied the slender figure. Her dress of red Chinese silk had a mandarin collar and long, tapered sleeves. The exquisite fabric molded itself to the curves of her softly rounded breasts and hips, then fell in a straight sheath to below her knees. Except for black frog closings, it was unadorned. When she walked, the slits on either side of the skirt revealed an expanse of leg nearly to the thigh.

  Ivy had swept her hair back on one side and fastened it with pearl combs. It cascaded over one shoulder in a stream of soft curls.

  She glanced up to see Caine studying her and felt a blush warm her skin. Immediately, she looked away.

  Caine paused in his work. She had a walk that was just shy of being sinful. Almost too beautiful to be real, she belonged on canvas for the whole world to admire. No model on a magazine cover had ever been as lovely to look at.

  He handed his aunt a crystal tumbler of whiskey. Ivy watched the way he moved. So sleek and sure of himself. The dark suit accentuated his dark hair and eyes. Even the perfectly tailored jacket couldn’t camouflage the muscles of his arms. When he handed Ivy a tulip glass of wine, their eyes met. If someone spoke, she wasn’t aware of it. She knew only that his look was as intimate as a touch. His gaze moved to her mouth and her lips grew warm.

  She sipped the wine, cool and dry, and felt her senses sharpen. She needed to walk, talk, do anything to break his hold on her.

  She walked to the wall of glass and stared at the freshly turned earth.

  “Who does your gardening now, Aunt Tru?”

  “We have a lawn and landscape service. They’re not nearly as good as your father.”

  “That’s because he loved this place. His work made him so happy.”

  Gertrude studied her over the rim of her glass. “He did love it here, didn’t he?”

  Ivy nodded. “When he was injured in that accident and lost his job in the city, it was the low point of his life. But coming back here to his roots was the high point. He said that returning to this land was better than a cure.”

  Gertrude’s tone sharpened. “It’s a pity your mother didn’t share his opinion of us.”

  Caine watched Ivy’s chin lift defiantly.

  “She preferred the city.” Ivy looked away and said nothing more in her mother’s defense. It was no secret that her mother had resented coming back here. She considered being the wife of a gardener beneath her.

  Gertrude sighed. “All the old ways seem to be dying.”

  Ivy searched her mind for a subject that would cheer the old woman. “Have they planted all the spring flowers you always loved? Tulips, crocus, daffodils?”

  Gertrude’s voice warmed. “And those little grape hyacinths. How I love them. Yes, they should all be blooming in a few weeks.”

  Caine walked to the window to stand beside Ivy. “Did you know you’re wearing two different earrings?” He smiled and touched an ebony disk from which several strands of jet beads dangled. In her other earlobe was an earring of shimmering opals.

  “I couldn’t decide which one I liked best. So I wore one of each.”

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who would do that.”

  Suddenly self-conscious, she turned away. Her eyes fastened on the painting over the mantel and she let out a little gasp of surprise.

  “Aunt Tru. When did you buy that?”

  The old woman smiled. “I wondered when you’d notice. Caine told me about it when he saw your exhibit.”

  Ivy turned wide eyes to him. “You were there? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was only in New York for a day, then right out again. There was no time.”

  Ivy walked closer to the fireplace and gazed up at her painting. “It’s a scene from the hill behind the house, overlooking the lake. I must have sat and stared at that site a thousand times while I was growing up here. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Mine too,” Aunt Tru said. “When Caine phoned and told me about the painting, I asked him to buy it for me.”

  “You recognized it?” Ivy asked him.

  “I grew up here, too, remember?”

  She laughed, and he saw the light that had come into her eyes. If possible, she looked even softer, prettier, when she was laughing.

  “Miss St. Martin, your nephew, Darren,” Chester announced from the doorway.

  “Well, here you all are.”

  “Darren.” The old woman beamed. “I wondered when you’d come down.”

  “Sorry. I fell asleep. How are you, Aunt Gertrude?” Darren crossed the room and bent to press his lips to her cheek.

  “Oh, let me look at you.”

  Darren St. Martin’s hair and skin had been kissed by the California sun. Even his hazel eyes looked golden. His suit bore the unmistakable touch of European tailors and his shirt, tie and Italian leather shoes were impeccable. As usual, he cut a dazzling figure. As he leaned over his aunt, Ivy could see why women were attracted to him—but they were always the wrong kind of women.

  Darren turned to Caine. “Hi, big brother. I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you were designing an office building or something in Arizona.”

  Caine smiled and held out his hand. “I was. An office building or something,” he mocked. “It’s finished now. I’m back home for a while until my next project.”

  “I can’t keep track of all your jobs anymore. I guess there’s no rest for the workaholics of this life. You won’t find me killing myself with schedules. I’ve found my niche in life. After watching all those playboys, I’ve decided that there has to be a better way than living from one paycheck to the other. That reminds me, big brother. I’ll have to hit you for a little loan. Just till I get on my feet. Wives are expensive these days. Especially if they’re actresses. I think their first lesson is how to find the most expensive stores in town.”

  Caine lowered his voice. “No problem, Darren. Just let me know how much you need.”

  “Thanks, big brother. What would I do without you?”

  Caine gave a wry laugh. “Probably get a job.”

  “Or rob a bank.”

  Darren turned and at that moment caught sight of Ivy standing near the fireplace. “Ivy, is that you?” He rushed to catch her hand. “You look wonderful.”

  “Hello, Darren. It’s been too long.”

  “It certainly has. I can tell that city life agrees with you. You’re looking gorgeous.”

  As Darren enveloped her in a warm embrace, she smiled up into his face and accepted his kiss. His cologne was an expensive French mixture that she recognized.

  “What happened to that drugstore after-shave you used to splash on?” she teased.

  “I’ve outgrown it. I’m a sophisticated man of the world now. I need something that becomes my stature.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Yuck? Women don’t say things like that to us worldly types.”

  Caine turned away from them and walked to the bar. He surprised himself by pouring a second drink. Why did the friendly banter between his brother and Ivy bother him? It couldn’t be jealousy. He had never been jealous of his younger brother. Protective maybe. Always willing to overlook Darren’s lapses. But never jealous. Besides, Ivy Murdock meant nothing to him. So why this twinge? He fought to dismiss the thought. Maybe what really bothered him was the fact that Ivy was so warm and touching with everyone except him. She had practically fallen into Darren’s arms. Yet she always seemed to be on guard in Caine’s presence. Of course, he could hardly blame her. He’d given her a pretty rough reception. He always seemed a little too grim, a bit too angry in her presence.

  Through narrowed eyes he studied Ivy and Darren. They were two of a kind—both beautiful people. He couldn’t deny that they made a handso
me couple. Darren’s blond good looks were the perfect foil for Ivy’s dark loveliness.

  “Oh, isn’t this nice? We’re all together again. Just like old times. Darren, come and tell me what you’ve been doing.” Gertrude patted the sofa. “Of course we’ve read about the separation.”

  He nodded as he took a seat beside his aunt. “We managed to make the headlines.”

  “Is it true, that Melanie has gone off on that actor’s yacht?”

  Darren gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes. But it won’t last. She’ll come back to me. Melanie made it plain that she craves adventure, excitement and lots of money. As soon as I’m solvent, I’ll have my little wife back at my side.”

  Gertrude touched his arm sympathetically. “I know this is a painful time for you, Darren. But when it’s resolved, you’ll find you’ve come out of this stronger than ever.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going to give me that old lecture about steel being forged in fire? I’m not steel, Aunt Gertrude. I’m a man. And I’ve just been burned.”

  The old woman’s voice lowered. “But you’ll survive, Darren. And be stronger for it. After all, you’re a St. Martin.”

  He stood and crossed the room, staring down at the flames of the fireplace. “No I’m not, Aunt Gertrude. You’re a St. Martin. You act like you’ve never made a mistake. And Caine.” He nodded at his brother.

  “Caine’s a St. Martin. The two of you are too good to ever make a mistake like mine.”

  “We’ve all made them, Darren,” Gertrude’s voice soothed.

  “Have you?” His tone suddenly hardened. “Did your past make you stronger?”

  Gertrude froze.

  Caine snapped to attention at his brother’s sharply issued words.

  At the stunned look on his aunt’s face, Darren turned away. “And what about old Caine there? Always the perfect example for a younger brother. Maybe I’ll take a lesson from him and start living a Spartan existence.”

  “Darren.” Gertrude forced her voice to remain even. “I know you have a right to a certain amount of self-pity. But come over here and talk. We’re family. We’re always on your side. We want you to work things out.”