Striding across to the desk, he unlocked the bottom drawer and began to take out the various piles of books. ‘They’re all dated and in order, thank the Lord, so we can soon find any that could be relevant.’
Even as he spoke he was looking through them, putting some aside, pushing the others away.
Bringing a little stack back to the fireside, he offered Elizabeth a thick, spiral-bound book with a blue cover. ‘This is one of the earlier ones, where he talks about Beth. I thought you might like to see that. The others date from around six years ago.’
As though under compulsion, she took it and started to read, while he began to search through the later ones.
It was Quinn who first lifted his head and broke the silence. His voice strained, he said, ‘Well, it’s all here. But it doesn’t make sense…
‘Though he’d married again, it seems he’d never totally given up hope of finding Beth and his child, and over the years had spent a small fortune trying to trace her.
‘But with no idea where she’d head for he had very little to go on. She’d never mentioned anything about her background, or having a family, and Smith is a very common name.
‘It seems his detectives followed endless false trails, and it wasn’t until you were grown-up that they finally managed to get a lead, and began to piece together the facts of your birth and subsequent adoption.
‘By the time you left college, Henry was fairly sure that he’d found his daughter. That’s why he approached Peter Carradine and got him to offer you a job as his secretary. He wanted to get to know you, and be absolutely certain before he said anything… He asked you about your parents?’
‘Yes.’
‘And of course, with you believing that your aunt and uncle were your parents, your answer didn’t help. After thinking it over, he decided to go and see them, and put his cards on the table.
‘They admitted you were adopted, and told him who your natural mother was, but asked him not to say anything, as they wanted to tell you themselves when you reached twenty-one in a few weeks’ time.
‘But then their sudden deaths threw everything into chaos. He decided to wait until you’d got over the shock and things had returned to normal before telling you that he believed he was your father.
‘It was shortly after that that I turned up and events began to move at top speed.
‘Now comes the puzzling part. Henry wrote, and I quote:
“‘Jo is a lovely-natured girl, the sort of daughter any man could be proud of. She has more than a look of Beth, and the same kind of radiance.
“‘Quinn couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and it was clear from the start that those two were in love. When Jo told me they were going to be married, I was absolutely delighted. I admit I don’t understand the need for secrecy, but young people live by their own rules, and Quinn has always been something of an enigma.
“‘When I heard the good news I was tempted to suggest to Jo that, as her father, I gave her away. But to have sprung it on her like that could have proved unsettling, and Quinn might well have objected to having his plans disrupted, so I’ve decided to wait until they return from honeymoon to tell them the truth.”’
Quinn spread his hands in a gesture made up of despair and bafflement. ‘Henry must have realized the implications, so what in God’s name was he playing at? Why didn’t he stop us marrying?’
Elizabeth took a deep breath, and, picking up the notebook she’d been reading, said, ‘I’ve got another puzzle for you. I’ll start at the beginning of the page. Listen to this.
“‘Beth took the earrings I’d given her—perhaps she was wearing them—but either by design or accident she left the brooch… I’m trying to believe that this is a sign, that she’ll change her mind and come back to me.
“‘In the meantime I shall do all I can to trace her. If she won’t come back, at least I’ll be able to help, give her financial support. Please God, she won’t destroy our child. I’ve longed for a child of my own…”’
She lifted wide grey eyes. ‘But he had you then…’
Quinn, who had been sitting momentarily transfixed, leapt to his feet, and started to search through the other notebooks. When he found the one he wanted, he opened it and began to skim through it with undisguised eagerness.
Having paused to read a page, he said quietly, ‘It seems my mother was five months pregnant when she met and married Henry. She and her young lover had been going to get married when he was killed in a motorcycling accident. Though Henry gave me his name, I’m not his son, thank God.’
Looking drained, as if even his magnificent strength and energy had been exhausted, Quinn came back to the hearth and dropped into his chair.
‘What a sorry mix-up the whole thing’s been, and I’m very largely to blame. If I hadn’t been fool enough to believe everything Piery told me… If I’d watched you and Henry together with unbiased eyes—’
‘There are so many ifs,’ she said simply. ‘If Henry had spoken out earlier. If my adoptive parents had told me the truth…’
Quinn looked up, his face sombre. ‘The only one completely free from blame is you, and you’re the one who’s been made to suffer the most. I don’t wonder you came to hate me—’
‘I’ve never hated you.’
‘You left me twice.’
‘I’ve told you, it wasn’t because I hated you.’
‘Well, it certainly wasn’t because you loved me,’ he said sardonically.
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ It was suddenly terribly important to convince him. ‘This may be the only time I’ll ever say this, but, whether you believe it or not, I do love you. I’ve always loved you. But one-sided loving can be humiliating and bitter… That’s what made it so hard to stay with you.’
His voice level, devoid of emotion, he asked, ‘Do you intend to stay with me now?’
‘You said you wanted me…you wanted me to stay until the fever had died.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you. At least not on those terms.’
Suddenly icy cold, she asked, ‘Then on what terms?’
‘I want a lifetime’s commitment. I want you to love me and stay with me for as long as we both shall live. Perhaps it’s what I’ve always wanted, though for many reasons I haven’t been able to say so. It seems utter madness to love a woman who—’
‘Do you love me?’ she broke in with sudden urgency.
‘I’ve called what I feel for you a lot of things, but I guess love is the only word that will do in the end…
‘But you haven’t answered my question. Do you intend to stay with me?’
About to tease him a little, she saw the tenseness in his neck and shoulder muscles, the whiteness of his knuckles where his hand lay clenched on the chair-arm, and said simply, ‘Yes.’
He swallowed hard. ‘Then tomorrow we’ll go and get you a ring.’
‘There’s no need. I already have one.’ Unfastening Henry’s round silver locket, she opened it, and tipped an exquisite chased white-gold wedding-ring into her palm.
‘After I’d left you, I realized I was still wearing it. I wanted to send it back, but somehow, though it was like rubbing salt into a wound, I couldn’t bear to part with it.’
His voice constricted, he said, ‘So you kept it? I imagined you must have sold it years ago.’
Holding it out, she asked, ‘Perhaps you’ll put it on for me?’
Going down on his knees, he slid it on to her third finger and lifted her hand to his lips.
‘My heart’s darling.’ His voice was unsteady.
Putting her arms around him, she cradled his dark head to her breast. ‘Do you remember what you once called me?’
‘My pleasure, my passion, my pain… You’ve been all of those.’
‘And you mine.’
‘Well, from now on we can leave the third emotion out. We’ve had enough pain. As for pleasure and passion—’ lifting his head, he kissed her deeply ‘—we’ve the rest of our li
ves to enjoy those.’
‘Starting now?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Starting now.’
The fire was glowing red. Stripping off her clothes, he laid her down in front of it, her dark head on a cushion, then, his own clothes joining the pile, stretched out beside her.
Pleasure and passion mingled sweetly, finally reaching the heights and exploding, incandescent as a shower of meteorites across a sky of black velvet.
For a while they lay quietly, saying nothing, merely touching. Lovers still.
It was Elizabeth who eventually broke the silence to ask tentatively, ‘Quinn… You will forgive Piery?’
‘Will you?’
‘I already have. If he hadn’t sent you that photograph, we wouldn’t be here together now.’
‘Well, if you look at it that way…’
‘I’m too happy not to.’
She was rewarded with a kiss. Then, showing how close they were, Quinn asked, ‘Something else on your mind?’
‘I was wondering… Even if we live in the States, you’ll keep Saltmarsh, won’t you?’
‘How could I deprive our children of their English heritage? We could even live here for part of the year, if you’d like to.’
She sighed. ‘I hope Henry knows.’
Quinn’s arms tightened around her and, his cheek against her hair, he said firmly, ‘I’m sure he does.’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1097-4
MARRIAGE ON TRIAL
First North American Publication 2000.
Copyright © 1999 by Lee Wilkinson.
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