by Margaret Way
“Yes, really. We’re attracted to one another. I can’t possibly be that wrong?”
“And I can’t possibly deny it.”
“Do you want to deny it? You have only to tell me, Carol. You’re young. You have so many issues to cope with, so much to learn. I don’t fancy putting any pressure on you. What happened, happened. I didn’t have the power to stop it. But I can and will in future. I was caught off-guard.”
He looked very much on his mettle. “Don’t get angry, Damon. I know that.”
“I hope so.” His sombre expression didn’t change. “Our attraction obviously shows. Plenty of people would be trying to figure out my ‘agenda,’ as Troy called it. You’re right about Amber Coleman—she’s a born troublemaker. She’ll do as much damage as she can. Your cousin will help her—they must keep in touch. Obviously, Troy has put doubts about me into your mind. I can only tell you Amber Coleman and I never came remotely close to discussing marriage. For that matter, I’ve never talked marriage with any woman.” He was shattered to think she mightn’t believe him. But there was nothing he could do about it if she didn’t.
“That’s not why I’m sad, Damon.”
“Then tell me. I’m being completely honest with you, Carol. I’d like you to be honest with me. What’s really causing your upset? I have a strong feeling it’s what you’ve remembered about that day in the attic when you were a little girl.”
She stared into his eyes. They were so dark, yet lustrous, as if a light were behind them. “If I tell you, you must promise me you’ll tell no one else.”
Instantly Damon the lawyer was wary. “I don’t know if I can promise that, Carol. Did someone harm you, God forbid?”
She covered her eyes with her hands, much like a child. “I did go up to the attic on my own,” she confided. “I wanted to explore. It’s such a marvellous place, even now. I was a very imaginative child. I did think someone might come after me—my nanny—but it wasn’t nanny and they weren’t after me. They wanted to be alone. As soon as I saw them, I hid behind a chest. I was just a child but I knew what was happening.” She uncovered her eyes looking up at him. Her blue eyes grew wide as she told Damon what she had seen. It was so very, very wrong.
* * *
Breakfast was served between seven and nine. Carol stayed away the whole time. She had orange juice, tea and toast in her room. She wasn’t in the least hungry; she hadn’t had a good night. Why would she have? At long last she had discovered the truth. Was her beloved father a victim of the truth? She would die herself finding out.
Her mother and Jeff were in their room.
“What do you want?” Roxanne asked in surprise. She was wearing a lacy white top with white skinny jeans, her glossy dark hair drawn back from her face. She really was a beautiful woman, on the outside.
“A talk with you, Roxanne,” Carol said, while looking at Jeff. “Do you mind, Jeff? This is private. I should warn you, afterwards I want you both to leave. You’ve had breakfast. You’re not staying for Christmas dinner.”
Roxanne broke into a derisive laugh.
“What’s the problem, love?” Jeff looked at his stepdaughter, his expression earnest. He really was very fond of Carol. He was only human. He couldn’t help it if he thought her a luscious little thing. But he would never hurt her.
“That’s between my mother and me, Jeff. If you wouldn’t mind leaving.”
Jeff shook his head. “If you want me to, I will,” he said. “You’re going to be okay?”
“Of course she is, Jeff, don’t be so stupid.” Roxanne turned on him scathingly.
“Come off it, Roxy. We all know you’re a total bitch.”
Roxanne laughed bitterly. “Divorce me, then.”
“Maybe I will.” Jeff walked to the door, shutting it hard after him.
Roxanne now turned on Carol, her anger powerful to see. “So what is it? Don’t you just love being in a position to throw your weight around?” she accused.
“There are times when I’m glad of it, Roxanne.”
“Not Mother?”
“You haven’t been much of a mother to me,” Carol said without emotion. “You weren’t much of a wife to my father, either. Even Jeff could leave you.”
“Do you really think I’d care?” Roxanne scoffed. “Plenty more where he came from. What is it you want to talk to me about?”
“I think you know already,” Carol said. “That day in the attic when I caught you and Uncle Maurice kissing passionately. You—my mother, my father’s wife—he, my uncle. My father was away with Poppy on a business trip.”
Roxanne’s flawless skin took on a deep flush. But she’d had time to come up with her explanation. “So you saw us?” she said as though it was of little consequence. “Nothing much happened. I can’t help it when men fall in love with me. They do it all the time.”
“Uncle Maurice hurt me,” Carol said, feeling the imprint of his fingers on her delicate five-year-old shoulders.
“He did not!” Roxanne rejected that out of hand. “He only dragged you out from behind that chest. He might have given you a few shakes.”
“He said if I told anyone bad things would happen to me,” Carol reminded her mother. “He shook me very hard. He made me cry. You didn’t stop him. My own mother didn’t stop him.”
“I was going to.” Roxanne tried to defend herself. “But Carol, I was in shock. If you had talked to anyone, Adam or your grandfather, think of the damage you could have done.”
“When the damage you did was just dreadful. I don’t know how you can live with it. Were you in love with Uncle Maurice?” She had to realise her uncle was even now a very handsome man.
Roxanne responded with great bitterness. “At least he was more in love with me than your father.”
“So that’s why Dallas hates you. She knew.”
“She didn’t know,” Roxanne shot back sullenly. “She guessed. We women are good at guessing, but she never, ever had proof. We were extremely careful. You were the only one to surprise us. In a way, it was your own fault. You always were a little monkey.” An odd expression flitted across her face. “Do you realise Maurice could very well be your father?”
Carol was so shocked she felt a pain in her chest and a tightness in her throat. “That is the most wicked lie!” she gasped.
“Is it?” Roxanne countered, collapsing on the chintz upholstered bench at the end of the bed. “Think, Carol. You mightn’t be the Chancellor heiress after all.”
“For God’s sake, don’t you know? Were you having sex with both brothers?”
Roxanne laced her long fingers together. “The short answer is, yes. I’ve always been a highly sexed woman. Adam was always away with your grandfather, the favoured son, the one most like him. That’s the way it goes, isn’t it? Parents favour the child most like them.”
“Obviously. You never favoured me. There’s such a thing as DNA, you know.”
“Can they really tell the difference in the DNA of brothers?” When Roxanne looked up, she actually had tears in her eyes.
“Crocodile tears, Mother.” Roxanne was a born actor, like all narcissists. “I’m reasonably certain they can. Now you’re in your confessing mode, tell me, did you and Uncle Maurice plan on pushing my father overboard?”
Roxanne could barely collect herself. “Don’t remind me of the worst day of my life, Carol. Adam was the love of my life. It was a terrible accident. I was such a ninny on boats. Adam never did show me what to do in case of an accident. I never thought there could be one. He was a very experienced yachtsman. I went into a complete panic—it paralysed me. I ran down to the back of the boat to unfasten the lifebuoy but it remained attached. I started pitching everything that would float into the water for him to grab hold of. But the boat kept on going. Adam was in the water. I couldn’t swim. God! It was a ghastly experience. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And there was more to come.”
“A lot of people didn’t believe you,” Carol supplied bleakly. She had t
o wait for her mother to collect herself. Roxanne appeared distraught for the first time Carol was witness to.
“There was a good reason for that. I was too beautiful and too rich. There are big downsides to both. Another thing, I keep my emotions hidden. I didn’t play the weeping widow. People demand that. I did the opposite. I had done no wrong, but I didn’t look right. I was condemned for that. Your grandfather acted like the hanging judge. Your so-sensitive little grandmother accused me to my face. I told her, I swore, I wasn’t capable of such a thing. I wasn’t capable of murder.”
“They say we all are, given enough provocation,” Carol said with grim horror. “Wives shoot their long-abusive husbands.”
“I’m all for that.” Roxanne pulled herself together. In her own way she was a strong woman. But in the space of minutes she looked older, more vulnerable. “I’m innocent, Carol. Believe that if nothing else. As for who your biological father is, I genuinely don’t know.”
“God!” Carol felt her sense of shock mounting to a mind-bending level. “But I look like my father.” She felt so sick, she thought she might pass out.
“Listen to you, Carol!” Roxanne cried out as though Carol were completely stupid. “Adam and Maurice both had deep-blue eyes and that red-setter hair. You look like both of them. You must know that. Unfortunately, you got your grandmother’s height. She was a fey little thing, wasn’t she? No one was surprised when she took her own life.”
Carol rallied. “Leave my grandmother out of this, Roxanne,” she said, beyond being shocked by her mother. “At least we know she is my grandmother. She was a lovely lady, too sensitive for the likes of you and Dallas. Think how much help two supportive daughters-in-law might have been. Instead of that, she got you two.”
“So what do we do now?” Roxanne conjectured. “As far as I’m concerned, we share this secret. You wouldn’t want to lose your grand inheritance. I wouldn’t want you to lose it. You are my daughter. It would all go to Maurice, that gutless wimp. He was going to divorce Dallas, you know.”
“After which you would marry him?” Carol couldn’t jettison her suspicions, for all her mother’s tearful explanations. Perhaps her father’s death had not been premeditated. It couldn’t have been engineered by Roxanne, but when face to face with a life-changing opportunity could she have allowed her husband’s body to slip away? Where was the evidence to say she hadn’t?
Shame on you, Carol.
“Maurice was a better lover than Adam. As for Jeff, whatever mojo he had, he’s lost. The two of them have one thing in common—lots of money.”
Carol took successive deep breaths. “Do you know, Roxanne, I think you’re really sick. We’re going to share our secret, are we? I think not. You would have something to hold over me. It wouldn’t take you long before you started into blackmail. Now, I’ll leave you to pack your things.” Carol started walking to the door. “I want you and Jeff out of here within the hour. I’ll sort my own life out, I promise you. We’ll be in touch.”
* * *
When she went downstairs some time later, she found Amanda and Summer standing in front of the Christmas tree in the entrance hall. Their heads were together. They were in deep conversation like long-time friends. Such were the curiosities of life. Both looked up in relief as they saw Carol descend the staircase.
Honouring her allotted role in life, Amanda was the first to speak. “Caro, what’s going on here?” she asked, her expressive face agog. “Troy took off, leaving Summer in the lurch—”
“Not that I mind in the least,” Summer broke in. “You did say I could stay, Carol?” she asked, looking embarrassed.
“You’re very welcome, Summer,” Carol said warmly, joining them in front of the glittering tree surrounded by yet-unopened presents. What a Christmas!
“What about your mother and stepfather?” Amanda asked. “Give it to us straight-up. They whizzed past ten minutes ago. We were standing here. Your mother ignored us like we were the lowest of the low. She sure didn’t shout Christmas. But Jeff wished us a merry Christmas. He didn’t look too merry, either. Have they left?” Amada sounded like she was delighted to see them go.
“They have, Amanda. Pressing business for Jeff.”
“Over Christmas?” Amanda’s tone went up a couple of notches. “You’re kidding me.”
“Well, they’ve gone. That’s the bottom line.” She looked them over. “Where are you two going?” Both girls wore casual T-shirts and jeans, trainers on their feet.
“We thought we’d explore,” Amanda said, giving her new best friend a smile. “You have a whole big botanical park out there, and woodlands. Then we plan a bit of a run around. That’s if I can borrow your car. This place is so beautiful, Carol. No wonder Troy talks about it all the time.”
“Does he? And there I was thinking he’s strictly an indoors man. Take the car, by all means. It’s not locked. The key is under the mat of the driver’s seat. There’s plenty of petrol. You’ll be back in time for Christmas dinner, of course?”
“You bet!” Both girls said together. This was the ritziest place both could ever imagine.
“By the way, Damon was looking for you,” Amanda said. “You two look great together.”
“Don’t be silly, Amanda. There is absolutely nothing going on between Damon and me. He’s my lawyer and a very good friend.”
Amanda gave her a huge grin. “I reckon he aims to be a whole lot more than that. Friendship doesn’t always continue in a straight line, kiddo. Damon is every girl’s dream.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAROL WALKED TO the rear of the house to the informal living area, a light-filled family area with a series of tall French doors on two walls affording views over the beautiful rear gardens. Maurice, a stony-faced Dallas and their smiling friends were seated comfortably in very comfortable custom-made sofas and armchairs upholstered in cream with a robust blue stripe.
The men jumped to their feet as soon as she walked in. Everyone was appropriately attired for a festive Christmas. She greeted them all pleasantly—even Dallas—wished them a Happy Christmas, made small talk—she was getting very good at it—and told them presents would be opened before Christmas dinner which would start at 2:00 p.m.
“I’m off for a walk now,” she said, giving a parting wave. “See you then.”
“A moment, Carol.” Maurice closed the short distance between them, taking her arm in avuncular fashion. “A few words, if I may?”
“Of course, Uncle Maurice.”
They moved off. The others went back to their conversation. There was lots to talk about. Everyone considered that Maurice Chancellor was behaving in an exemplary manner, considering he had been bypassed by his own father for his young niece. Not that she didn’t look or sound capable of picking up the reins. They had all been surprised by Carol’s considerable intelligence, her grasp on both legal and business matters. She had considerable presence for one so young. A Chancellor, of course, bred in the bone.
Maurice directed Carol to his study, or what had been his father’s study. He continued to use it as his own. His niece—highly intelligent, admittedly—was but a slip of a girl. Would to God he’d had a daughter like that! Troy was such a disappointment, ruined by his mother.
“Take a seat, Carol,” he invited.
She moved into a leather armchair facing the massive desk. Maurice retreated behind it, putting several feet between them. The cedar-panelled room was very impressive. There was a hush to it, like an exclusive men’s club.
“You first, Uncle Maurice,” she said, not about to waste a moment on politeness. That was all over. She felt exhausted beyond merely physical. She was mentally exhausted. What more was there for her to learn? Whatever it was, she couldn’t shrink from it.
“Whatever do you mean, ‘you first’?” he asked in astonishment.
“Exactly what I said. I assume you have a problem with my mother’s leaving?”
He actually laughed. “I had a problem with your mother coming, m
y dear girl. Roxanne and I had little to say to each other for years.”
“Far cry from the old days?” she said bluntly.
He appeared staggered. “Carol, I don’t know what you mean.”
“You hoped I’d never remember, didn’t you?” Carol said. “You thought you’d frightened me into forgetting. You shook me and shook me, a five-year-old girl. You threatened me, come to that.”
“Carol.” He stretched out an imploring hand.
“Don’t deny it,” she said sharply, jerking back. “The truth is finally out. You and my mother were having an affair. I caught you kissing and fondling one another. Even as a child I knew that was all wrong.”
Maurice Chancellor bent his tawny head, as though in shame. “Carol, I am so sorry.”
“Who would believe you?” she said bleakly. “All you and my mother were sorry about was being caught. No wonder Dallas hates her.”
Maurice lifted his head. “Dallas didn’t know.” He sounded emphatic.
“Maybe she didn’t know, but she guessed. The same old story—a woman’s intuition. I don’t even know if the grand affair came to an end after my father’s death.”
“Of course it did. Adam’s death was a tragedy for us all, not just my parents. I was always very envious of Adam—my father and my mother loved him far better than me—but I knew it wasn’t his fault. I loved my brother. I want you to believe that.”
“But you had no difficulty deceiving him with his own wife?”
“God help me, I did,” Maurice groaned. “It was quite unforgivable, I know. But Roxanne was such a temptress, the ultimate provocateur. She does it on purpose, always flaunting her powers. She knew I got nothing much in the way of sex from Dallas—little love from my parents, even from my own son. He’s nothing more than a spoiled rotten dilettante. Roxanne was a huge mistake.”
