Daughters of Fortune: A Novel

by Hyland, Tara

  After Lucien’s father, Stéphane, had retired from teaching, he and his wife had moved from the banlieues of Paris to the pretty village of Saint-Robert, in the département of Corrèze in the Limousin region. They had gone there to be closer to Lucien’s older brother, Émile, who lived nearby with his wife, Sophie, and their three children.

  “Although since then we’ve realized there are far better reasons for being here,” Lucien’s father was always fond of joking. Not least the fact that Saint-Robert was picture-postcard perfect. In a commanding position above the surrounding valleys, it was made up of small streets of medieval houses, built around a Romanesque church. There was a strong sense of community in the village, the shops and restaurants always bustling, especially in the sunshine. It reminded Caitlin a little of Valleymount.

  Lucien’s parents lived in a splendid old farmhouse a convenient walk from town. Caitlin and Lucien tried to visit every month or so, but this time they had come out especially to tell his parents in person about the baby and forthcoming wedding.

  “Ah!” Stéphane cried when he heard the news. He embraced Caitlin warmly. “Now I can officially welcome you to the family!”

  Lucien’s mother was next. Farida took Caitlin’s hands and said very solemnly, “I know it will be difficult for you, without your mother around. So let me know what I can do to help. You are already like a daughter to me.”

  Caitlin felt tears spring to her eyes.

  An impromptu celebration spilled over into the evening. When it came time for dinner, the men carried a table outside onto the grass, and they whiled away several more hours, the adults drinking, eating, and laughing as the children played among the fruit and nut trees.

  By the time Caitlin and Lucien finally retired for the night, to a beautifully converted outbuilding that stood adjacent to the farmhouse, she was ready to drop. She was at that early stage of pregnancy when she seemed to be in a permanent state of exhaustion.

  But once she got into the big brass bed, she found she was unable to sleep. Something was unsettling her. Perhaps it was the silence—the nights were so still and dark here, so different from London, where there was always noise and light: streetlamps, traffic, rowdy passersby. But here, when she opened her eyes, it made no difference. It really was pitch black; silent, too, apart from the occasional hoot of an owl.

  “Trouble sleeping?” Lucien’s voice came to her from the dark.

  She felt rather than saw him roll over onto his side to face her. As always these days, his hand went instinctively to the small bump of her stomach.

  “What’s wrong, chérie?” he murmured.

  “Nothing.”

  “If it was nothing, you would not be awake,” he observed.

  She laughed softly. “I’m fine. Honestly.” After a pause, she added, “Just thinking about tonight, I suppose.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, he said, “You know, I do not believe you for a second. But when you want to tell me, I’m here to listen.”

  She smiled into the darkness. She felt better now that she could feel him close, the warmth of his hand through her thin cotton nightdress. But the truth was, she was having a hard time herself figuring out what was wrong. Despite her excitement about the wedding and the baby, something had been bothering her. She felt very . . . alone. And tonight, seeing Lucien with his family—her family now, she reminded herself—well, that had brought her loneliness to a head. Seeing his mother in particular, happy for him, fussing around her, asking about her wedding dress and the baby—it had reminded Caitlin that she wouldn’t be able to do that with her own mother.

  She was thinking about her mam a lot these days. Maybe it was something about getting married and expecting a child of her own that made her want to lay the past to rest. Whatever the reason, she found herself longing to know what had transpired between William and Katie, all those years ago.

  She had never talked about it properly with her father. When she’d first come to Aldringham, she had been too terrified of him to ask questions; once in Paris, she hadn’t been interested in anything he had to say; and then, after his heart attack and their reconciliation, she hadn’t wanted to bring the subject up, to disturb the fragile peace between them.

  But now she needed answers. She was an adult, and she could deal with hearing about what had happened between her parents, however upsetting it might be.

  When she got back to England, she would speak to her father. With the decision made, she was finally able to sleep.

  William guessed what Caitlin wanted to talk to him about as soon as she asked whether they could meet one evening for dinner. He wasn’t sure what exactly gave it away. Maybe it had been on his mind, too, the need to clear the air, now that she was going to be a wife and mother herself.

  He was about to leave his office to meet Caitlin when his phone rang. It was Elizabeth.

  “Are you free for dinner tonight?” she asked. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.” In fact, she wanted badly to speak to him. The speed with which Piers was progressing with the buyout frightened her. She kept thinking that if she could have one last attempt at reconciliation with her father, then maybe she wouldn’t need to go through with the takeover after all. It still wasn’t too late to call it off.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said shortly. “But I can’t tonight.”

  There was a pause as she waited for him to elaborate. But he didn’t.

  “Call Sheila tomorrow morning,” he said instead. “Get her to put something in my diary for later this week.”

  Disappointed, Elizabeth decided to pack up and head home. She left the building ten minutes later, which was unfortunate, because she was just in time to see William walking along Albemarle Street with Caitlin.

  William took Caitlin to the Ritz for dinner. He hadn’t been there for years, but it seemed appropriate for the evening.

  “This is where I first took your mother,” he said, once they were seated.

  Caitlin looked up at him, surprised that he had been the one to bring the subject up first.

  He gave a wry smile. “Well, that’s what we’re here to discuss, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” she admitted. She glanced around at the ornate Louis XVI–style decor, trying to picture her very humble, down-to-earth mother in these elaborate surroundings. “Did she like it here?”

  He smiled a little at the memory. “Oh, yes. Very much so, I think.”

  The waiter came over then to take their order. Once he was gone, William resumed the conversation, more businesslike this time.

  “So tell me, my dear, what do you want to know?”

  “I want to know what happened between you,” she said bluntly. “How it ended.”

  William took a long sip of wine, traveling back in his mind to thirty years earlier. He remembered the first time he’d met Katie in his office, and how he’d been immediately drawn to her, captivated by her quiet, gentle manner. He’d felt compelled to see her again—and, despite his best efforts, found himself falling for her, the first time he’d ever felt that way about anyone. And he remembered the last time he’d seen Katie, the night before he’d left for Lake Como. He had spent the whole vacation thinking about her, missing her more than he’d imagined possible. In the end, he’d come to a decision: it would mean leaving his little daughter Elizabeth, too. But he couldn’t carry on like this.

  “I was relieved that I’d finally made a decision,” he told Caitlin. “I was so tired of sneaking around, of snatching odd moments. I wanted your mother and me to be together properly, whatever the consequences.”

  He stopped talking then, stared off into space, thinking about what could have been.

  “But?” Caitlin prompted.

  He snapped back to the present. “But she had already left,” he said brusquely. “I went to her flat the night I returned. The landlord told me she’d gone, left no forwarding address. The next day at Melville, I went to the store, and she wasn’t there either. It turned o
ut she’d resigned just after I’d left for Como.”

  He hadn’t believed it at the time, that she had gone, left his life forever, without so much as a word, a letter. He’d been alternately furious with her and then worried for her, out there, alone. At one point he’d even considered hiring a firm of private detectives to trace her. But in the end he’d thought it best to respect her decision to go.

  “And that’s the truth,” he told Caitlin sadly, once he’d finished his side of the story. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  Caitlin said nothing for a moment. Of course she wanted to believe him, but . . .

  “But I don’t understand,” she said. “What about the checks?”

  William looked confused. “What checks?”

  She explained about the checks that she had found among her mother’s belongings. “I assumed you knew about me, and that you’d been the one sending them all those years. I thought Mam had lied to protect you.”

  “No!” William’s denial was so vehement that patrons at the adjacent table turned to see what was going on. He apologized and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, although his eyes still flashed fiercely. “I promise you this, Caitlin—I did not send your mother away. And I certainly did not know anything about you.”

  There was a silence, and then Caitlin spoke. “But what did she say when she wrote to you about me?”

  William sighed. “By the time she contacted me . . . well, it was very near the end. She must have thought she had more time.”

  “Yes,” Caitlin said quietly, tears in her eyes. “She went downhill very quickly in those past few days.”

  “She just wrote a couple of lines telling me that I had a beautiful fifteen-year-old daughter and hoping that I would be there for you after . . . after she’d gone.”

  Caitlin shook her head. It was all so frustratingly vague. “So the two of you never spoke, then?”

  It was William’s turn to shake his head. “No. All I had time to do was leave a message at the hospital, letting her know that I was coming. I caught the next plane over, but . . . it was already too late.” He wiped his eyes.

  Caitlin turned everything over in her mind. “Where did those checks come from, then?” she pondered. “Who else could have known about me?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.”

  Caitlin could think of only one person who might have the answer. She looked up at William and said, “I think I should go back to Valleymount and speak to Nuala.” She waited, wanting William’s blessing for what she planned to do, but knowing she would go even if he didn’t give his approval.

  Slowly he nodded.

  Elizabeth chewed at her lip. It was a nervous habit she’d developed lately.

  “I wonder what they were talking about,” she said to Piers. First thing that morning, after a sleepless night, she had come to his office and told him about seeing William and Caitlin leaving together the previous evening.

  Piers watched as Elizabeth’s lip split open and a little blood seeped out. She was looking dreadful these days. Her hair was scruffy, as if she hadn’t had time to style it properly, and her roots needed doing. For the first time, he could see wrinkles on her forehead, her brow furrowed from frown lines. She looked her age. Stress had done that to her. He had done that to her. He felt a pang of guilt. He’d always liked Elizabeth and hated using her. But she was crucial to his plan. That night in Tokyo, he had placed the first seed of doubt in Elizabeth’s mind. Now he could see it growing, nurtured by her long-held fear that William favored Caitlin.

  “Do you have any ideas?” she asked Piers for the twentieth time. Her imagination was clearly on overdrive.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Piers said slowly.

  Elizabeth got to her feet. “Well, I want to know. I have a right to know,” she said aggressively. “I’m going to ask him straight out.”

  Piers watched her make for the door. The usually haughty, poised heiress was paranoid and skittish. “Wait,” he said now. She turned, frowning. He moved toward her. “Why don’t I have a word with your father instead? He might be more likely to open up to me.”

  Usually Elizabeth would never let anyone tell her what to do. But now she hesitated. In the past few weeks, she had started to doubt herself, and it was making her weak.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Maybe that’s a good idea.” She gave Piers a sad smile. “Thanks, Uncle Piers. It’s good to have someone I can count on.”

  The last part was said with a touch of wistfulness. Piers patted her arm. “That’s quite all right, my dear. You know I’ll do anything I can to help you.” He paused and asked, “And what about that other business?” He was referring to the buyout plans. He’d taken on the organization himself—finding the financial backer and preparing the legal work. Everything was nearly in place. He just needed Elizabeth to give the go-ahead. “Have you made a decision yet?”

  She looked away. “No, I haven’t.” Her voice broke a little. “I can’t decide what to do.”

  Piers sensed the worst thing he could do was pressure her. “You take whatever time you need,” he said gently. “You have to be sure about this.”

  Piers didn’t ask William about Caitlin straight out. He was a master at extracting information and knew the best way to approach the matter was to bring it up casually, as though it meant nothing to him. He waited until he was about to leave his older brother’s office and then, almost as an afterthought, said, “I called here last night but you’d already left—with Caitlin, as I understand it. Is everything all right?”

  William took a moment to consider his answer. He and Caitlin had agreed that they would tell no one about her trip. But he didn’t like lying to his brother.

  “She’s going back to Valleymount, where she grew up,” he said truthfully. Then he told Piers about the mysterious checks that had turned up in Katie’s belongings. “She wants to speak to Nuala in person,” he told him, “and try to find out the truth about what happened to make her mother leave London all those years ago.”

  William saw the blood drain from Piers’s face as he spoke. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

  Piers forced a smile. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine. Just the beginnings of a migraine. I’ve got some tablets somewhere. If you’ll excuse me . . .”

  Back in his own office, Piers shut the door, leaned against it, and closed his eyes. He’d thought the secret was well and truly buried. But Nuala knew just enough for Caitlin to connect all the dots. He would need to speed up his timetable and put everything in motion before she had a chance to go back to Valleymount.

  54

  _________

  When Caitlin stepped off the plane in Dublin, she felt a rush of bittersweet nostalgia. For a moment, she was fifteen again, grieving for her mother and being packed off to live with a family who she was certain didn’t want her. She’d come a long way since then. Ireland had, too. Over the past decade, the Celtic Tiger had woken, stretched, and roared. Eire was no longer the butt of Europe’s jokes—it was a thriving, prosperous country, a desirable place to live.

  She got through the airport quickly. William and Lucien had both offered to accompany her, but she had turned them down, explaining that this was something she needed to do herself. Her fiancé hadn’t been happy about her undertaking such a stressful and emotional trip.

  “I don’t want you upsetting yourself, chérie.” His gaze had instinctively moved to her stomach. “Not when it could be bad for the baby.”

  She’d smiled softly at him, touched by his concern but not swayed by it. “Lucien, I know you’re worried. But this is something I need to do.”

  He’d wanted to argue back. But seeing the determined look in her eyes, he’d known she would not be dissuaded.

  Outside the airport, she found the car that she had booked to take her out to Valleymount. As she settled into the back, she was surprised at how nervous she felt. She had kept up her annual pilgrimage to her mother’s grave, scraping together th
e airfare even during the lean times in Paris and then New York. But she had always stayed in Dublin and made the trip up there for a day, never dropping in on the people she had once known.

  That’s why the call to Nuala had been so difficult. But if she’d been worried that her mother’s old friend might not be pleased to hear from her after all these years, she couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, the woman had sounded delighted, saying that she’d followed Caitlin’s career in the paper.

  “We’re all so proud of you,” she’d said. “And your mam would be, too.”

  Caitlin had choked up at that.

  They had spent some time on the phone. Róisín was no longer around—she had moved to Australia with her husband and two children.

  “And all the others have moved out, too, so there’s plenty of room for you to stay.”

  “Oh no,” Caitlin had said quickly, not sure if she could handle the memories. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Ah, sure.” Nuala had sounded embarrassed. “You’ll be wanting to stay at the hotel.”

  That had done it for Caitlin. Snobbery had been the furthest thing from her mind.

  “Well, if it’s really no trouble, then of course I’d love to stay,” she’d said warmly.

  Time hadn’t changed Valleymount. The pretty stone cottages looked the same; the neighbors had aged but not altered. Caitlin couldn’t help wondering what her life would have been like if her mother had lived, if she’d never found out about her heritage or the Melville family.

  Nuala still lived at the same house. Apart from a lick of paint, that hadn’t changed either. She opened the door covered with crayon and with two grandchildren hanging on her. They belonged to Róisín’s elder sister, Evelyn, Nuala explained; she babysat while her daughter was at work.

  “There’s another asleep in the cradle upstairs,” she told Caitlin, inviting her in. She smelled of warm milk and talcum powder and looked perfectly happy about that.