The End of her Innocence

by Sara Craven

  As she got Orion settled and refilled his water bucket, she could hear restless movements from the box opposite and found a pair of glittering dark eyes in a handsome black head with a white blaze watching her with suspicion.

  So this was Samson, she thought, feeling a stir of interest and excitement. Big with powerful shoulders and quarters, he certainly lived up to his name.

  Chloe spoke to him softly, saying his name and he backed away, nostrils flaring.

  She went a little closer. ‘Beauty,’ she crooned. ‘Gorgeous boy. What’s the matter, then?’

  ‘Not a great deal. He’s simply wondering how to get you near enough to take a piece out of your arm,’ Darius said from the doorway. ‘I don’t advise you give him the opportunity.’

  It was Chloe’s turn to step backwards. She said with faint breathlessness, ‘I thought you were at Warne Cross.’

  ‘I have been,’ he said tersely. ‘But I realised I couldn’t hang around there all day, even to oblige you. As it was, I was asking Crosby so many stupid questions, he must have thought I was losing my mind.’

  He came in. Stood, blocking her path to the door. ‘Arthur having his lunch?’

  ‘I suppose he must be.’ She turned hurriedly to pick up the saddle from the door of Orion’s box. ‘I—I’ll just take this over to the tack room.’

  ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it later.’

  ‘It’s no trouble—really.’

  He said with faint amusement, ‘Or at least it’s the kind of trouble you can handle. Isn’t that what you actually mean? But you have no need to worry, sweetheart. After all, you’re sacrosanct. Promised to another in the shape of our worthy junior vet.’

  ‘And that’s supposed to be some safeguard?’ The words were out before she could stop them. ‘Your brother didn’t find it so.’

  ‘No,’ he said very quietly. ‘He didn’t.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have reminded me of that salient fact—and particularly not here. And not now.’

  There was another of those odd intense silences. Chloe had the odd impression that she could hear the rush of blood through her veins. The whisper of the breath she was holding.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was small, husky. ‘I had no right to say that. No reason either.’

  ‘No?’ Darius asked. He took a step nearer. ‘Can you put your hand on your heart and swear that?’

  She swallowed. ‘I’ve apologised. That should be enough.’

  ‘Enough?’ he repeated. ‘That’s a paltry kind of word, Chloe, when you consider some of the memories we share.’

  She lifted her chin, her heart going like a trip hammer. ‘I only remember a girl, little more than a child, who once nearly made a fool of herself and was only saved from a lifetime of regret because you remembered just in time that you wanted another man’s woman far more.

  ‘You were a disaster that didn’t happen, Darius. That’s all. So let’s not pretend anything else.’ She took a breath. ‘And if you come any closer, I warn you I’m going to scream until Arthur and everyone else in the household hears me and comes running.’

  For a moment, he was very still, then he moved ostentatiously to one side, leaning against the door of an empty box.

  As she walked past him, staring rigidly in front of her, he said quietly, ‘One day, darling, you’re going to realise you’re the one who’s pretending. And when you do, I shall be waiting.’ He paused. ‘See you around.’

  And to Chloe, trying desperately not to run to her car, his words were a threat, not a promise.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘NEVER again.’ Chloe hit the steering wheel with clenched fists, her words grating through gritted teeth. ‘Never again.’

  She’d headed for one of her favourite spots, driving pretty much on autopilot. But having arrived there and parked on the short grass, she found the car suddenly seemed confining, claustrophobic. She flung open her door and almost scrambled out, standing for a moment, drawing deep breaths of the warm, still air to calm herself.

  Ahead of her, the ground sloped away down to where the Willow, glinting in the sunlight, pursued its leisurely course down the valley. She walked slowly down the narrow track towards the water until she came to a large flat boulder a few yards from the bank, and climbed up onto its smooth surface, resting her chin on her drawn-up knees.

  How many times, she wondered, had she cycled out here over the years, to swim in the deep calm pool under the trees a few yards downstream, then sunbathe stretched out on this same rock?

  But maybe she’d chosen the wrong refuge today, she thought, gazing unseeingly at the view. After all, this was also where she’d always come to think, not escape from her thoughts.

  Besides, it held altogether too many memories, reminding her that once she’d been tempted into a dangerous, impossible dream that had no place in the kind of life she’d envisaged for herself. A dream from which, thankfully, she’d been swiftly and brutally awoken.

  And the intervening years had only reinforced that awakening, teaching her to concentrate on a future that would provide stability as well as true happiness. The things, she told herself, that she’d grown up with, and which were what really mattered in life. So in a way, the past had taught her a valuable lesson.

  Yet ever since she’d come back, she’d had the disturbing sensation that everything was changing, and that, in some strange way, the ground was being cut away from under her feet.

  If I’d known that Darius was here, I’d never have come back, Chloe thought, closing her eyes. Or, at least, not to stay. I thought the past was safely buried, so how could I have guessed?

  Well maybe by reading Aunt Libby’s letters properly and asking the right follow-up questions, she thought, biting her lip with swift savagery. Only I didn’t and now I have to live with the consequences—but perhaps not permanently.

  She wondered restively just how committed Ian was to Willowford. If it wasn’t too late to persuade him that they should also embark on a new start together somewhere completely different. But, naturally, he would want to know why, and what explanation could she possibly offer that would make some kind of sense without involving any potential damaging admissions?

  Those vows made by a deceitful tongue …

  The Countess Almaviva’s words once more wound their sad way through her mind and her throat tightened.

  Except, of course, there had been no vows of any kind.

  In fact, nothing happened with Darius, she assured herself with a kind of desperation. Nothing. Not then. Not now.

  But it could have done so easily. So terribly, even fatally easily. And I can never let myself forget that. Not for a single, solitary moment.

  So why on earth did I go within a mile of the Hall today? Why did I believe he’d keep his distance and let myself succumb to the temptation to ride his beautiful horse? Didn’t the events of seven years ago teach me anything? And, if so, why didn’t I see what was coming?

  However, she thought, pushing a hand through her dishevelled hair, Darius’s behaviour does suggest a reason for Lindsay Watson’s hostility. Something may have been said or merely implied which has caused her to see me as some kind of rival.

  And I can’t even take her on one side and say, ‘Look, frankly, you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. If you want the glamorous Mr Maynard, have him and good luck to you, because you’ll need it. ‘

  Especially, she reminded herself quickly, when no-one seems to know if Penny is completely out of the picture, or simply waiting in the wings, and found she was suddenly shivering in spite of the warmth of the day.

  She slipped down from the rock and walked back to the car.

  She didn’t want to be alone, she thought as she started the engine. She wanted to adjust her focus back to the things that mattered, therefore she needed to see Ian, to sit with him and talk quietly like they used to. Like they should still be doing, because surely, by now, it was time they began to formulate some plans, even if they weren’
t the ones she’d had in mind when she returned?

  Maybe we could both work abroad, she thought suddenly. I could suggest that to him—make it sound like an adventure. Establish completely new roots before we start a family.

  But for that I need to see him face to face. Convince him it’s not just some crazy whim.

  It occurred to her that he usually went back to the cottage for his lunch break if he wasn’t too busy. Maybe instead of continuing to wait patiently for an invitation which seemed a very long time in coming, she should simply pay him a surprise visit.

  I’d have done it a year ago without thinking twice, she thought. So why not now? Carpe diem, as the saying is. Seize the day.

  But there was no sign of Ian’s jeep on the patch of waste ground by his fence where he normally parked. And the door and windows were all firmly closed.

  Chloe gave a small defeated sigh. She’d already turned the car to head back towards the Grange when some impulse made her switch off the engine and get out. While she was here, she thought, she might as well take another look at her future home, even if it was to be only temporary, and, at the same time, see for herself the kind of chaos Ian seemed content, if apologetic, to live in.

  It couldn’t go on, of course, she told herself with mock-sternness. She would have to take the situation in hand at some point, especially if he went along with her idea of a move and agreed to put the place on the market.

  The kitchen and dining room were at the front of the house, with the sitting room, and Ian’s office at the back, overlooking the small garden.

  Bracing herself, Chloe decided to face the kitchen first, always supposing its windows were clean enough to look through, she added silently, wrinkling her nose.

  But the panes were surprisingly grime-free, offering an uninterrupted view of the room beyond. Eyes widening, Chloe saw a row of herbs in pots on the windowsill, a new Belfast sink, crockery neatly set out on a small dresser, a gleaming white cooker and a square pine table with a bowl of fruit at its centre. And the room wasn’t just tidy, she thought. It looked clean too. And herbs? She’d thought scrambled eggs represented the height of Ian’s culinary ambitions.

  The dining room told the same story, with an oak table, six chairs and a matching sideboard all neatly set out. None of them new, admittedly, and certainly not antique, either, but all gleaming with polish. And on the table this time two pottery candle-holders and a vase of flowers.

  Chloe stepped back, frowning in bewilderment. What on earth had Ian been talking about? she asked herself. Because if this was a mess, then the Grange must be a pigsty. None of it made any sense.

  She walked slowly round to the back of the house. The sitting room boasted a cream leather sofa and a matching recliner, neither of which she’d seen before, and the office with its desk, computer and filing cabinet was a picture of order.

  So what had happened to all the cheerful squalor she’d been expecting?

  She could only think he’d been overcome by guilt and hired a team of industrial cleaners to sort him out. But they would only do the basics. It must be Ian’s own efforts that had made the cottage look so homelike and cosy.

  I told Tanya I wanted to surprise him, she thought wryly. He must have been thinking on the same lines, and he’s certainly succeeded. I’m the most surprised female in Willowford. And when I’m asked to pay my official visit, I’ll jump for joy and praise him lavishly.

  It was how she’d always visualised the cottage. Just how she’d wanted it to be, apart, possibly, from the cream leather seating, but perhaps that was a man thing. Yet she’d played no part in its transformation.

  And while it was undoubtedly carping and churlish to feel disappointed over this, somehow she couldn’t help herself.

  I just wish he’d told me what he was planning, she thought restively. She wondered what improvements and modernisation had been carried out upstairs, but she’d need a ladder to find out, and anyway she was almost relieved not to know.

  The house seemed to be beckoning to her—inviting her to enter and share its welcoming charm—but it was securely locked, and there was no way in, she thought, rattling at the handle of the back door in sudden frustration.

  Her future home—and she was excluded. As if she was merely an outsider condemned to remain on the other side of a few panes of glass, looking in.

  And, while she knew she was totally overreacting, she could not prevent this disturbing thought accompanying her all the way back to the Grange.

  Where another unwelcome surprise awaited her.

  ‘An invitation,’ said Aunt Libby. ‘Dinner at the Hall, no less. It used to be a regular occurrence, of course, when Lady Maynard was alive,’ she went on. ‘But rather fell into abeyance afterwards. I suppose these occasions really need a hostess, and Andrew’s wife never gave the impression she was keen on indulging the locals. The Birthday Ball was as far as she was prepared to go, and that turned out to be the last, of course.’

  ‘Yes.’ Chloe bit her lip as she looked down at the note in Darius’s imperious and unmistakable black handwriting.

  And now, she thought, the Hall has a hostess again …

  She took a swift, uneven breath. ‘What excuse can we possibly give?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ her aunt returned briskly. ‘This is the equivalent of a royal summons. I gather from Mrs Vernon, who brought the note round herself, that Sir Gregory is now well enough to see visitors, which is really good news, although he won’t actually be joining us for the meal.’

  ‘Well, I can’t go,’ Chloe insisted stubbornly. ‘Ian and I have plans for next Wednesday.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to change them,’ Mrs Jackson said firmly. ‘Ian’s also being invited, and as the Hall is a client of the practice, he certainly won’t refuse. He can’t afford to. And nor can we. Something you have to learn when you’re in business in a small community.’

  She shook her head at Chloe’s mutinous expression. ‘For heaven’s sake, my girl, it’s only a couple of hours or so out of your life, and Mrs Denver is still a superlative cook. What on earth is your problem?’

  One, Chloe thought bleakly, that I cannot possibly share.

  She shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m not very interested in the rehabilitation of Darius Maynard. I imagine this is what it’s all about.’

  He’d told her himself he intended to become a good neighbour, so maybe she should have seen this coming.

  I’m being manipulated again, she thought, bitterly. And I don’t like it.

  So it was almost a comfort to know that Lindsay Watson would probably like it even less.

  ‘Well, it’s only to be expected, as he’s the heir apparent. And if his father can accept the situation, who are we to quibble?’ Aunt Libby paused.

  ‘Besides, he was very young when it all happened, and we all do foolish things that we regret when we’re young.’

  Twenty-five, thought Chloe. He was twenty-five. Just as I am now.

  She said expressionlessly, ‘I suppose so.’

  But I don’t intend to regret anything. Not again. Never again …

  Ian took her to East Ledwick that evening, to a small bistro that had recently opened to considerable acclaim.

  ‘One of these evenings, you’ll have to cook for me yourself,’ she said, scanning the menu appreciatively.

  ‘Have a heart, Clo. You know my limitations,’ Ian said as he summoned the wine waiter and ordered a bottle of Rioja.

  All evidence to the contrary, thought Chloe.

  Aloud, she said lightly, ‘I’m no longer sure you have any—something I find very intriguing.’

  She paused. ‘So, how do you think our renewed acquaintance is progressing?’

  He flushed a little. ‘What do you mean?’

  Once again, it was hardly the response she’d hoped for, but Chloe persevered.

  ‘I was thinking that maybe it was time we began to consider the future again. To talk about what we both want from life.’

  H
e fiddled with his cutlery. ‘I guess we should. Sooner or later.’

  He was not, she thought, making it easier for her.

  She said, ‘Would it help if I told you I was wrong to take that job? To spend so much time away from here?’

  ‘You had your reasons, Clo. You wanted to earn big money fast. No-one can blame you for that.’

  ‘But it’s as if I’ve come back to a different world,’ she said. ‘One that I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, nothing stands still. Circumstances change. People change.’ He smiled awkwardly. ‘You’re probably not the same person who went away either.’

  ‘But that’s what I came back to be,’ she said slowly. ‘I thought you knew that.’

  He was about to answer when he looked past her towards the doorway, his gaze sharpening.

  He said, ‘It seems as if this is the venue of the moment,’ and got to his feet.

  Chloe did not need to turn her head to know who had just come in. The butterflies suddenly cartwheeling in her stomach told her all that was necessary.

  Oh, God, this can’t be happening to me. Not a second time.

  ‘What a very pleasant surprise,’ Darius said lightly as he and Lindsay came to stand beside their table. She was wearing black tonight, a shade that set off her blond hair and pale skin, making her look oddly ethereal. He was totally casual in chinos with a dark red, open-necked shirt, and a light cashmere jacket slung over one shoulder, yet, at the same time, managed in some mysterious way to make every other man in the room look ordinary. ‘Why don’t we join forces—with you as my guests naturally?’

  Chloe could think of all kinds of reasons and was sure that his companion could double the number, but as her lips parted in startled negation, she was instantly checked by Ian’s stiffly uttered, ‘Thank you, we’d be delighted.’

  Aunt Libby’s wise words about business and small communities nudged at her brain, as she rose silently to accompany them to a larger table, but surely there were limits?

  Although they had apparently ceased to apply, she thought when, inevitably, she found herself placed directly opposite Darius.