The Hidden Years

by Penny Jordan

  'Maybe it was,' she agreed lightly, fighting to hide from him how much pain the words cost her.

  The look he gave her almost destroyed her.

  'Do you really mean that?' he demanded harshly, releasing her and stepping back from her as though suddenly he found her contaminated.

  'Was that all it was all the time? Just a game, a diversion? Did you ever intend to leave him, or were you simply playing out some fantasy? A cruel fantasy, since I actually thought…'

  She kept silent, letting him throw all the bitter, hurtful words at her, letting him savage and destroy her, letting him have the outlet he so badly needed, knowing that it was the only gift she could give him, the only panacea he would have.

  As he finally turned away from her he said cruelly, 'Well, all I hope is that someone will some day come in to your life who'll destroy it in the way you've destroyed mine, and you with it… Do you know something, Liz?' He turned to look at her, his eyes cold and bitter. 'I almost feel sorry for that husband of yours… I certainly wish him luck, because he's going to need it…'

  She stood where she was until the dust from his car tyres had died down, and the mist had swallowed it up, obliterating it from her view.

  Even then she didn't cry. Instead she turned and walked stiffly back to her car, driving it slowly and carefully back the way she had come.

  Inside she felt as though she were being torn apart, but no one else must guess what was happening to her… no one else must know her pain.

  This was something she had to endure by herself, something she had to live through alone. She had done the right thing. The only thing… Now all that remained was for her to convince herself that this was so.

  Later she suspected that if it hadn't been for Edward's illness keeping her so physically busy she would have weakened and gone in search of Lewis, begging him to wait, to give her more time, but by the time Edward was well enough to be left for more than half an hour at a time she discovered that Lewis had left, and that no one seemed to know where he had gone.

  Several weeks of nursing Edward constantly while mourning for Lewis was beginning to take its toll of her health. She often felt sick and put it down to nerves until she suddenly realised just what her queasiness might portend. It was too late for her to change her mind about Lewis now, though, she reflected unhappily.

  Even if she could bring herself to leave Edward and to shoulder the emotional burden of guilt that doing so would bring, how could she ever be sure that Lewis believed she had come to him out of love and not simply because she was carrying his child? No… it was too late now to change her mind. And as for the child she suspected she carried…

  She placed her hand over her stomach, trying to suppress the deep, wrenching pain that tore at her heart. It should never have been conceived and could not be allowed to be born. And yet… and yet… She shivered with emotion, knowing how much she wanted to have his child, Lewis's child, and yet at the same time acknowledging that this must be her punishment for what she had done: that she must sacrifice not just her need, but also her child. A week went by and then another.

  She devoted herself to looking after Edward. He clung to her emotionally like a dependent child, and was so full of remorse for the way he had attacked her, constantly begging her to promise him that she would never leave him as though in some way he sensed how close she had come to doing so.

  She was losing weight, growing too thin and finedrawn, as the physical effort of looking after Edward combined with the emotional pain she was suffering took its toll of her, and she had still done nothing to terminate her pregnancy even though she knew she must.

  But how? Abortions were illegal and could only be procured with considerable danger.

  Ian Holmes had seen how thin and pale she had become and was concerned about her. And yet as her health deteriorated, Edward's improved; he was almost back to being his old self again, albeit with the aid of the drug which successfully seemed to keep at bay his earlier violent changes of mood. Physically he was as strong as he had ever been, Ian told her when he complimented her on her devotion to him. As he had already said to Edward himself, without Liz to care for him it was doubtful that he could have pulled through the illness which had devastated him. He was lucky to have a wife like Liz, Ian told him. Very lucky. Edward agreed with him. He was a fortunate man.

  When Ian called to check up on Edward one morning and discovered Liz on his way out, on her hands and knees, frantically tearing up the weeds in one of the long borders, while her body shook with the tears that poured down her face, he knelt down beside her and put his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her towards him.

  He had seen the almost haunted way she had devoted herself to Edward, and had drawn his own conclusions. It had been obvious how Lewis McLaren felt about her, and she about him, and he could only pity them both from the depths of his heart.

  'Liz, my poor girl,' he said now. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

  He thought he already knew the answer. She loved a man she was not free to marry and so had sent him away, but when she turned to him and said wretchedly, 'I'm pregnant,' he couldn't quite keep the shock from his face.

  'I know,' Liz agreed. 'I should never have allowed it to happen…'

  Ian struggled for a moment and then asked her uncomfortably, 'McLaren… Does he…does he know?'

  Liz shook her head. 'No…and I don't intend to tell him… This is my problem, Ian. Mine. Oh, God. I know what I have to do, but doing it…' She shivered. 'Lewis wanted me to leave Edward. Begged me to leave him, in fact, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't have lived with myself if…'

  'And Edward couldn't have lived here without you,' Ian put in sombrely. 'At least not here at Cottingdean, and an institution…'

  'Yes, I know. I wanted to go with Lewis,' she went on painfully, 'I wanted to take my happiness… but in the end I had to send him away, let him believe that I didn't care… I thought then that that was the hardest thing I'd ever have to do, that no matter what pain the rest of my life might hold it would never be greater, sharper, more agonising than the pain of losing him.' Tears were pouring down her face, her normal reserve vanishing, swept away by the force of her emotion, her need… 'I should have realised then.' She turned to Ian.

  'Ian, I'm going to have an abortion. There's no other way. I don't want to do it, God knows, but what alternative do I have? I know I shouldn't ask you, but could you… would you...? You're a doctor—you must know of someone who could do it… safely…'

  For a moment Ian couldn't speak, he was so consumed with pity and compassion for her. She had suffered so much, given up so much… but as to what she was asking him…

  'Are you insane?' he demanded. 'An abortion! Not only is it illegal, but my God, Liz, do you realise how many women lose their lives every year by going to those people? They're untrained, unsanitary, they butcher the women and maim their unborn children; why in the name of God do women go to them…?'

  'Because they don't have any alternative… because they're desperate,' Liz told him grimly. 'As long as our society continues to treat women who conceive illegitimate children as solely responsible for their plight…just as long as it continues to humiliate and condemn them, women will continue to resort to the services of back-street abortionists… They have no option… Edward has already accepted David as his; I cannot—'

  'Do you want this child?' Ian asked her softly.

  Slowly she nodded her head. 'More than I can possibly tell you. It will be all I'll ever have of its father…'

  Her simple words betrayed so much.

  Ian Holmes ached with pity for her.

  'Let me speak to Edward?' he suggested, but she denied him immediately.

  'No, Edward must never know. He has already suffered enough… Promise me you won't mention this to him.'

  When he gave her his promise Ian told himself that in already knowing that he was going to break it he was doing the only thing he could.

  The thought of Liz of
fering herself to death or maiming at the hands of some unqualified butcher sickened him, and yet his own hands were tied… There was nothing he could do to help her… nothing at all…

  'Just don't do anything until I've had a chance to think things over,' he asked. 'To make enquiries… Give me a week.'

  It galled him to lie to her… to deceive her… but he had no alternative.

  He didn't waste any time in talking to Edward. As luck would have it, Liz had been invited to a reception in Bath being held for local industrialists by the Ministry, who were anxious to encourage new development.

  He found Edward alone in the library. Although stronger physically, he looked pale and drawn—his skin was beginning to develop the unhealthy greyness of someone who spent too much time out of the sun. He had aged dramatically; become an old man almost overnight, or so it seemed.

  Ian didn't waste any time, telling him quickly what he had come to tell him and then letting him absorb the shock of it.

  'Did Liz ask you to tell me this?' he wanted to know after some painful minutes had passed.

  Ian shook his head.

  'No, she begged me to say nothing. In point of fact she only told me because… well, because she wanted me to recommend an abortionist to her…'

  He saw the way Edward absorbed his words, and his hopes grew. 'I asked her…about the father, the man…' he continued brusquely. 'She told me…she told me that there was no way she would leave you… That her place was here with you and with David…'

  No need to say that it was his, Edward's need that kept her tethered to him…

  'Think carefully, Edward,' Ian warned him. 'To bring yourself to accept another man's child as your own, to bring up that child in the knowledge that another man has fathered it on your wife… that's a great deal to expect of any man, and only a very brave man could do so. Liz herself would not ask it of you, but my oath as a doctor forbids me to give her the information she requires… If she does go ahead with her plans to abort this child it could result not just in the child's death but also in her own… However, I would counsel any man against taking on the burden of another's child unless—unless he can find it in his heart to truly love that child… and its mother…'

  Liz… pregnant… Liz making love with another man… Liz bearing another man's child… Jealousy raged through Edward, tearing at his flesh, his heart, his soul. For one black moment he actually wished that Ian had not told him this, that Liz had simply gone ahead… better for her to lose her life than… No! The cry was wrung from him in agonised silence… To lose her, and in such a way… And could he really blame her? She was a young and beautiful woman—a woman who had given him so much, who had turned his whole life around… A woman whom he himself had almost killed. He remembered her visit to the hospital and how he had begged her, pleaded with her to take him home. Not to leave him. He remembered too how she had looked at him then and the despair in her eyes and he knew—knew that she had come that day to tell him that their marriage was over. She had sacrificed so much for him—couldn't he sacrifice his pride for her?

  Wasn't he man enough to allow her this small fall from grace? And if he didn't, what were the alternatives? He tried to envisage life without her and instantly it was as though a shadow had come over his world. And yet she had betrayed him with another man. His male pride, so sorely tested by all that he had endured, rose up inside him in anguished outrage.

  'I'll leave you to think things over,' Ian Holmes told him gently, standing up.

  He was praying that he had done the right thing. He knew Liz well enough to know that if he hadn't caught her in a moment of weakness she would never have told him about the pregnancy. He also suspected that the man involved meant far more to her than she was allowing him to know.

  Edward was a lucky man; how many other women in the same circumstances would have put his needs before their own desires? He acquitted Liz of any desire to maintain the marriage because of Cottingdean or any other kind of material advantages, but he had sensed how desperately she wanted to keep her child. He hoped that Edward would find the generosity to allow her to do so… David was not, after all, his either, and it was plain to everyone that he adored the boy…

  Just as he was about to leave the room Edward called out to him in a low voice, 'If… if Liz kept this child… I don't want the whole world and his wife to know that my wife has made me a cuckold,' he told Ian bitterly.

  Ian had been giving the matter a great deal of thought.

  'There is a radical new method of allowing women to conceive that does not involve sexual intercourse.' Quickly he explained the research being undertaken into human artificial insemination. 'We could let it be known that both you and Liz had taken the decision to have another child… And how that child was supposedly conceived…'

  'I would have to be sure that Liz had given up this… this man…' Edward muttered.

  Inclining his head gravely, Ian said quietly, 'I think the fact that she is still here with you tells its own story, don't you? Liz is not a woman to involve herself in some cheap, sordid affair… nor to enter into it lightly…'

  Sensing that he had said enough, he took his leave of Edward. He must be getting old, he reflected tiredly as he drove home. He was beginning to feel the burden of his patients' woes… Edward was not the easiest of men to deal with, and he admired Liz for all that she had done for him. Half of him was inclined to tell her that she must not sacrifice herself any more, that if this man meant as much to her as he suspected he did… But without her he doubted that Edward would survive more than a handful of months. He could not live alone-even with Chivers's help, as there would be little money. He would have to enter an institution…

  He was not God. He could not order people's lives, but he could not help offering up a prayer that if there was a God he would find from somewhere the com-passion to gently urge Edward to ignore the demands of his pride and think not of how Liz had betrayed him, but of all the kindness and love she had given him over the years, and would, Ian suspected, continue to give him at the cost of her own fulfilment and true happiness.

  Duty… It was an old-fashioned word in this brash new modern world, and yet he suspected that Liz was one of those people whose conscience would always incline her to put the needs of others, her duty and responsibility towards them, before her own needs and desires.

  He had asked Liz to give him a week before doing anything irrevocable and he prayed that she would not break her promise to him as he had done his to her.

  Liz didn't. However much she knew that she had no alternative, that no matter how much she longed to be able to keep the child Lewis had given her she could not do so, a stay of execution was still welcome.

  The thought of changing her mind, of leaving Edward and going with Lewis was one she had forbidden herself even to contemplate.

  David, Edward, Cottingdean, the mill—all of them had claims on her that far outweighed her own selfish desire to be with Lewis.

  And yet when the letter came from him begging her to change her mind, pleading with her to leave Edward and go to Australia with him, imploring her to forgive him for so stupidly accusing her of wanting Cottingdean and all that it could offer more than his love, she was so sorely tempted, so desperately, dangerously impelled to change her mind that she had to sit down and write back to him immediately, forbidding him to get in touch with her again, telling him brutally and untruthfully that while she had enjoyed their brief fling that was all it had been to her, and that she had never had any intentions of leaving Edward or giving up Cottingdean.

  It was a cruel, callous letter. Necessarily so. If she once allowed him to suspect how much she still loved him he would never give up… he would waste his life wanting her, and, since she already knew she could not go to him, then she must set him free to find happiness with someone else.

  And yet if she did leave Edward, if she did go with him… she could keep their child…

  Instinctively she placed her hand over he
r stomach, staring down at the letter she had just finished, and then, before she could change her mind, she sealed it in an envelope and addressed it.

  She posted it after lunch, passing Ian on his way to see Edward as she did so.

  Edward had summoned him by telephone, telling him that he had made his decision.

  Ian found him in the library, looking gaunt and withdrawn, and his heart dropped. Edward had about him the look of an executioner…

  'Ian… Good of you to come so promptly,' he said formally. 'Chivers is just making us some tea…'

  Ian's jaw ached with the effort it took to respond to Edward's civilities.

  It was fifteen minutes before the tea arrived, was poured, and Chivers had left them.

  'I've made my decision,' Edward told him abruptly. 'I've decided that she can keep the child… But… But she must give me her solemn promise that she will never see him—her lover—again… I don't wish to know who he is… I don't wish to discuss the matter with her at all. I shall leave it to you to act as an intermediary between us to convey to her my decision… I'm afraid it's something I feel I just cannot discuss with her myself. The child will be brought up as David has been as my son or daughter, but shall of course be excluded from inheriting Cottingdean… The estate will in due course be passed to David, who does, after all, have Danvers blood… This… this child is not a Danvers.' There was a distaste and dislike in his voice every time he referred to the baby and Ian felt his initial relief start to drain from him… Would Edward punish the as yet unborn child for Liz's fall from grace? Would Liz be willing to accept the terms he was laying down?

  'With your assistance we can let it be known as you suggested that Liz and I made a decision for Liz to undergo this new method of conception…'

  'You're a very brave man, Edward, and a very compassionate one,' Ian told him, standing up. 'I know you'll never regret having made such a decision. But remember Liz.' He wanted to remind him that Liz also would be making sacrifices, had already in fact made them, but he was too wary of antagonising Edward and of giving him an excuse to rescind a decision which he suspected was not being made wholeheartedly.