The Sister Secret (Family Ties)

by Jessica Steele

  Damn you, she fumed inwardly, on the instant as furious as he. He would not believe her when she told him the truth, so to hell with him. She swallowed hard on her fury and, ready now to lie her head off if need be, agreed, ‘Very well.’ Though what her sexual activity had to do with what they were discussing, she failed to see. Who was she? Merely the—

  ‘So, go on.’ Apparently he felt he had waited long enough for her to begin speaking truthfully about anything.

  ‘What about?’

  His eyes narrowed, and she guessed from that narrow-eyed look that he suspected she was messing him about—and was not prepared to put up with too much more of it. ‘About,’ he clipped, ‘your sister.’

  Belvia hesitated. ‘I’m—not sure...’ she began.

  ‘Get on with it!’ he ordered, giving her an impatient look. And Belvia knew then that, if she did not soon start talking, any minute now Latham would be striding out of the room and would almost immediately renew his pursuit of Josy.

  ‘Can—can I trust you?’ Belvia asked, knowing that she had to tell him more than that her sister was extremely shy, but not wanting to tell him anything.

  ‘More than I can trust you, I’d say!’ he rapped.

  ‘Damn you!’ she erupted, and felt so het-up suddenly that she could not bear to be seated either. Since, however, he was occupying the floor-space over by the fireplace, she opted to go and stand looking out of the window. Though as she weighed up just how much she should tell him, and centred her thoughts on Josy and the dreadful time the dear love was going through, to her horror, she felt the prickle of tears in her eyes.

  Appalled, she wanted to escape, to get herself under control. But she gulped down tears, and realised she could not escape—could not, because Latham had moved and had come to stand close by, and she dared not so much as turn to glance his way.

  And then she had no need to, for Latham was right behind her. ‘You’re distressed!’ he exclaimed. She shook her head to deny any such thing. But all at once she felt his hands on her arms, turning her to face him, and never had she heard his voice so kind, so gentle, as when, his hands falling from her arms, he placed sensitive fingers under her chin and tilted her head so she should look at him as he asked, ‘What is it, Belvia?’

  She looked at him, looked into warm grey eyes, and felt in that moment that she could tell him anything. ‘Josy,’ she choked. ‘She’s a rare person, a precious person.’ She was still striving for control as she added, ‘She hasn’t an evil thought in her head, an ill deed in her body.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So—I don’t want her hurt.’

  Quietly Latham studied her. ‘I won’t hurt her,’ he stated equally quietly.

  ‘But you are hurting her,’ Belvia told him urgently. ‘Just by asking her out, you’re hurting her.’

  ‘She’s that sensitive?’ he questioned disbelievingly.

  ‘It isn’t just that—’ She broke off—there was no more she could add.

  But Latham seemed to think that there was. ‘Tell me about it?’ he requested, looking at her levelly.

  Staring into his eyes, she saw nothing but encouragement there. But still she hesitated. ‘I... I’m...’

  ‘Afraid?’ he guessed. Wordlessly she nodded. ‘Don’t be,’ he murmured. ‘You can trust me, I promise you.’

  Oh, Latham, she inwardly cried, in turmoil within herself. Josy wanted nothing but to be left alone—yet Belvia had a feeling that nothing would make this man back off from what he was going after—unless he knew of a very good reason why he should do so. She stared into his eyes again, into his face, and saw nothing but understanding there, a willingness to understand.

  She turned from him and his hand dropped from her. She stared unseeingly out of the window, still in turmoil, but heard every word when Latham asked, ‘Tell me why, when other men must want to date your sister, I should not.’ A knife turned in her and added to Belvia’s torment—it hurt that Latham wanted to date Josy and not her. ‘She must have been out with other men,’ he added.

  Belvia buried her own pain, but somehow then felt strangely that she could trust him with absolutely anything. ‘Only one—and he was very special to her,’ she heard her own voice answer.

  ‘Was?’ he picked up.

  Belvia bit her lip. They did not come any sharper than Latham Tavenner. ‘He—died.’

  ‘Recently?’

  ‘Not four months ago.’

  Latham was silent for a moment or two, and again she would have given anything to know what he was thinking. ‘Why didn’t your father say?’ he asked, and from that Belvia guessed that Latham would have soft-pedalled a bit had he known. A warmth for the man she loved washed over her and she moved from the window to her chair, afraid this time that some of her warmth of feeling for him might show.

  Latham returned to his seat on the couch, but when he looked at her, just sat and looked at her without saying a word, she knew that he was silently reminding her that there was an answer outstanding.

  ‘My father...he knows next to nothing about it,’ she had to confess.

  ‘He doesn’t know your sister had someone very special in her life—and lost him?’ Latham questioned, keeping any incredulity that he might feel out of his voice, but his enquiry nevertheless telling Belvia that, having got her to open up, he would insist on knowing all that there was to know—that he wanted every i dotted and every t crossed.

  ‘Josy—didn’t want him to know,’ Belvia found herself telling him.

  ‘So you kept quiet about it too?’

  ‘Josy asked me not to say anything,’ she replied—and soon had any hopes that that might be the end of his questioning dashed.

  For, ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Why?’ she repeated, and saw from his face that he knew she was playing for time—and was insisting on an answer. ‘Why, because... Well, as you know...’ She looked at him and saw there was no let-up in his want-to-know-everything expression. ‘Well,’ she set off again, ‘as you know, my sister is painfully shy—always has been with strangers.’

  ‘Yes, I know that,’ he agreed quietly, and there was something in his voice which seemed to Belvia just then to be totally sensitive to what she was saying.

  She looked across at him, saw the hint of an encouraging smile on his face, and loved him—and found she was going on to reveal, ‘But while she has always been shy with humans, Josy has always been in her element with animals—horses in particular.’

  ‘She owns a horse, I believe.’

  Belvia nodded, warming to him for his kind tone. ‘We inherited some money from our mother when we were twenty-one, eighteen months ago, and Josy bought Hetty with some of her money, and—’

  ‘What did you do with yours?’

  Belvia blinked. His question was unexpected; they had been talking about Josy. ‘Oh, I threw in the job I was doing at the time and went into training for something I really wanted to do,’ she replied with a smile. She saw his serious glance seem to pause a moment, then move to her curving mouth, and a flutter of emotion washed over her just at being in the same room with him. ‘Er—anyhow, it was a lovely time for us both. I was doing something I enjoyed, and Josy had Hetty. We haven’t room for stabling ourselves,’ she went on, ‘but that was no problem because there’s a riding-stables a couple of miles from here and Josy arranged to have Hetty stabled there.’

  ‘Presumably she went to see her horse every day?’

  ‘Oh, she did. It was such a happy time for her,’ Belvia replied, remembering how it had been. ‘As soon as she had her chores for the day done she would be up at the stables, Saturday, Sunday, rain or shine. Over a period of time, though,’ she continued, her voice starting to dip as she remembered, ‘the more she went to the stables, the more she began to relax with a man who was a groom there. Then one day she confided to me about Marc...’ Her voice faded, Josy’s pain her pain.

  ‘She had fallen in love?’ Latham queried gently.

  Belvia nodded, too f
ull of emotion to speak. She made a coughing sound to clear her constricted throat, and was remembering it as it had been when she went on to reveal, ‘It was a very big moment for her on the day she asked Father if she could invite Marc home to introduce him.’

  ‘Your father was not too pleased with the idea.’

  ‘How did you...?’ Her voice tailed off. Good grief, where was her brain? Her father was trying to impress Latham, yet here she was within an ace of revealing what an out-and-out snob her father was! ‘My father wants only what’s best for Josy. For me too,’ she added hastily, in her hope to make him see her father in a better light.

  ‘But you didn’t want to marry a groom,’ Latham pointed out, and she wished she had not included herself in this. Neither she nor anything to do with her was why he was here.

  ‘How did you know that Josy wanted to marry Marc?’ She opted for diversionary tactics.

  ‘It’s obvious.’

  She realised it probably was, and her glance slid from him. ‘I suppose it is,’ she agreed.

  ‘But your father said no, that he didn’t wish your sister to marry her love.’

  ‘Josy didn’t ask for either his blessing or consent.’

  ‘Didn’t she, now?’

  Belvia shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied, and knew he wanted more, but she could not tell him more.

  That was, she was certain she could not tell him more while he was seated on the couch. But when suddenly, although completely without haste, he left his seat and came and sat on the arm of her chair, her certainty became clouded by confusion. He was close, too close; his nearness was making a nonsense of her. When he bent down and gently took her hands in his, and queried softly, ‘So?’ Belvia had the hardest work in the world to hide from him her innermost feelings for him.

  ‘So she married, without telling him,’ she replied—and was aghast at what she had just said. ‘I...’

  ‘Your father didn’t know one of his daughters got married?’ Latham asked, his surprise evident.

  ‘He—he still doesn’t know,’ she stammered in a rush, as, appalled by what she had revealed, she hastened to repair what she had done—for Josy’s sake she had to get Latham to promise not to say a word to her father. ‘Josy proved stronger and more spirited than I’d have thought when she decided to marry Marc and tell Father after the honeymoon. But...’

  ‘Was that when Marc died, on their honeymoon?’ Latham asked.

  Belvia realised that, since she had said Josy had been going to tell their father after her honeymoon, it was not so very difficult to work out that a tragedy had befallen Marc before the honeymoon was over.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘Josy told father she was going away for a few days—which stretched. I was at the wedding. Just me and another witness. I cried buckets, I was so happy for her,’ she inserted, but went swiftly on, anxious, now that she had said so much, to get it all said. ‘They went away to Marc’s people in France, to tell them of their marriage and to honeymoon there. But only the next day Josy phoned from France to say Marc was dead.’

  ‘You flew at once to her,’ Latham stated, as if he knew it for a fact.

  ‘That’s about it. I took a few minutes out to leave a message with my father’s secretary to the effect that I’d decided to take a short holiday too—and went. Josy was in shock—we flew back after the funeral.’

  ‘And you still didn’t tell your father what had happened?’ Latham queried, his incredulity straining at the leash.

  ‘It’s the way Josy wants it,’ Belvia replied, clamping her lips firmly shut on words such as: who could blame her sister after the way their father had been about Marc?

  ‘You’re reiterating that your father knows nothing of your sister’s marriage?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘That he has no idea that she’s a widow?’

  ‘He doesn’t,’ she answered, adding quickly, ‘And I’d ask you to respect what I’ve told you. Give me your w—’

  ‘Didn’t your father notice she was in a state of shock?’ Latham cut through what she was saying to question her.

  ‘Josy’s always been incapacitated by shyness.’

  ‘Within her own family?’ he asked, an eyebrow arching in surprise.

  ‘No, of course not. But she’s always been quiet, so— Well, my father’s a busy man—he probably wouldn’t notice if she was a little more quiet than usual, and anyhow...’ Her voice tailed off, but he would not allow her to leave it there.

  ‘Anyhow—what?’ he pressed.

  She shrugged. ‘Anyhow, I covered for her every time she dashed from the room to howl somewhere in private.’

  Momentarily she felt the grip he still had on her hands tighten. Then he abruptly let go and, getting up from the arm of her chair, he went and stood again over by the fireplace.

  And it was from there that, to her astonishment, he clearly stated, ‘All of which goes to show that you’re a pretty wonderful sister.’

  Her mouth fell open. What had brought that on? They had been talking about Josy, not her. He had made a nonsense of her again—just one compliment from him, that was all it took, and she went weak. But, for Josy’s sake, she had to be strong.

  That knowledge left her struggling and searching around for some comment which would for a second time take attention away from herself. ‘I’ve heard tell that you’re a pretty wonderful brother,’ she found out of nowhere, with no idea just then where she’d heard it, and, her head still not together, little more idea about anything else either.

  Her comment had the desired effect, however, in that Latham threw her a far from complimentary look and scowled at her, as if being reminded of his sister had brought to mind some unpleasant memory. Was he perhaps not such good friends with his sister as she had believed? she wondered.

  Whatever the case, Belvia saw, as he drummed his fingers on the mantelpiece while, deep in thought, he stared hostilely at her, that his mood had undergone a sudden change.

  Nor was it for the better, she discovered, when, all sign of gentleness and understanding gone, he asked harshly, ‘Bearing in mind your mammoth propensity for telling lies—how much of what you’ve just told me should I believe?’

  The swine! To get her talking—and then to turn on her! In the next moment she was on her feet, facing him, staring him straight in the eye. ‘Everything I’ve told you about my sister is true!’ she snapped. She was starting to shake inside but did not know whether it was from anger, or just from an emotional reaction to him; all she knew then was that, before he left her home, she wanted his word that he would repeat none of what she had told him. ‘And,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘I’d like your promise that you won’t say anything to my father of what I’ve told you.’

  For an answer he favoured her with an arrogant stare. ‘Is that all?’ he questioned curtly.

  He was annoying her again—an indulgence she could not afford. To hide her annoyance she wandered to the back of the couch when she thought she had got herself sufficiently under control to answer his question. ‘As a matter of fact, no,’ she replied. Raising her head, her eyes, she looked at him. God, he looked tough. ‘I should also like your promise that you’ll back off,’ she made herself go on.

  ‘Back off?’

  Ooh, what she would not give to have another crack at him. The baiting brute, he knew damn well what she was talking about. ‘Josy,’ she stated succinctly. ‘My sister. Will you leave her alone?’ Confound it, what was this man doing to her? A moment ago she had been more or less demanding that he leave Josy alone, yet now, in less than five seconds, she was almost pleading with him to leave her alone. ‘It can’t be that you l-love her, can it?’ she asked, and did not know, as she waited for him to answer, how she would be able to take it if he answered that he did love her sister.

  But he did not answer and, even while her heart beat anxiously, Belvia began to hate him because, without saying a word, he could—because of force of circumstances—make her go from demanding to pleading.<
br />
  ‘Please,’ she requested, and was left having to ask, ‘Please tell me what you intend to do.’

  Latham moved away from the fireplace, and as he came nearer so her heart beat the faster. But the couch was still between them when, after studying her earnest expression for a few moments more, he began, ‘I’ll...’ He paused. ‘Let you know.’

  ‘Oh, please!’ she cried—really, this just was not good enough.

  But he was already on his way to the door, and the only promise she got was the, ‘I’ll be in touch,’ which he threw over his shoulder on his way out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BELVIA spent the following hours in an agony of anguish, and that anguish was still with her when she awoke on Thursday morning. No sooner had Latham departed the day before than she had realised that, by telling him all she had about Josy, he could have her jumping through hoops! If he so desired he could make her do anything he wanted and—if she was to protect her sister from him—there was not a thing she could do about it. She was at his mercy whatever he, with his ‘I’ll be in touch,’ decided.

  She knew why she had told him so much, of course. From the love she bore him, she had felt she could trust him. That he had seemed sensitive and understanding had gone a long way towards that trust, but it was of no help to her now. And while it was unfortunately true that the love that had grown in her for him—which had come unannounced and unwanted—was of such strength that she thought that there was nothing she would not do for him, the wealth of love she had for her still-vulnerable sister meant that she would do all in her power to protect her.

  Belvia got out of bed wondering when Latham would be ‘in touch’. She had half expected him to ring last night, and had half jumped out of her skin when the phone had rung. But the call had not been for her but for her father, in connection with a golf tournament Fereday Products were co-sponsoring on Sunday. How, when Fereday Products were next door to broke, they could co-sponsor anything, defeated her. Though, according to her father, to be seen to be prosperous was everything.