by Sara Craven
Also, in less than ten days’ time there would be the ordeal of the Birthday Ball to be endured with all its particular resonances that she would still give so much to forget.
I can’t look back, she thought. I dare not. And I must never let him near me again.
I have to plan for the future and disregard everything else, including all the strange things Sir Gregory said to me the other night. Particularly those.
And wondered why they suddenly seemed so important.
‘So that young nurse is leaving the Hall, I hear,’ said Mrs Thursgood. ‘Must mean that the old gentleman is properly on the mend.’ She gave Chloe a bland smile. ‘You won’t be so sorry to see her go, I dare say.’
‘I’m certainly glad Sir Gregory is well enough not to need anyone,’ Chloe returned carefully, aware that her heart had skipped a beat at the news.
‘And that’s not all,’ the other woman went on. ‘That other one—Mr Andrew’s widow—is coming back.’ She nodded in satisfaction at Chloe’s startled expression. ‘She’ll be here the day after tomorrow for the Ball, by all accounts. So, there’s a turn up for the books, and no mistake. I never thought we’d set eyes on her again.’
She sniffed. ‘But it’s all forgive and forget, seemingly. And maybe we’ll be having another wedding, if Mr Darius decides to do the right thing by her, that is.’
‘Yes,’ Chloe said, in a voice she didn’t recognise. ‘Perhaps so.’
She paid for what she’d bought as if she was on autopilot, and went out into the relentless sunshine, releasing the leash of a delighted Flare from the rail provided for the purpose.
Penny, she thought in stupefaction. Penny, no longer in disgrace, and returning to Willowford to be with her lover—the man for whom she’d once abandoned everything. To be reinstated—accepted as Sir Gregory’s daughter-in-law all over again. It couldn’t possibly be true—could it?
But if it was, if the incredible, the unthinkable, was really happening, then small wonder that Lindsay Watson had decided to cut her losses and go.
Yet, I can’t, she thought numbly, staring down at the footpath with eyes that saw nothing, as she began to walk out of the village, heading for the fields the dog loved.
Because I have to stay here somehow and watch it take place. Live with the knowledge that she and Darius are together and happy. As they may have been all this time.
Oh, dear God, to be confronted by it all on a daily basis and have to pretend that it doesn’t matter, because I have my own life. To make everyone believe that I don’t care. To try to make myself believe it.
What am I going to do? How can I possibly bear it?
She stopped dead in the middle of the lane, shocked by what she was thinking. Horrified by the sheer enormity of the revelation that had come to her at last, and was now tearing her apart.
The realisation that the man she’d really fallen in love with seven years ago—the man she had never ceased to want in her secret heart, despite everything he’d done—was Darius Maynard.
That it had always been him and always would be.
That all her efforts to rip her memories of him, her longing for him out of her mind had been totally in vain. That they were what drew her like a magnet back to Willowford, in spite of the time and distance between them, because one day she’d known she would find him here.
I must be insane, she thought with a kind of desperation. Because this isn’t happening to me. It can’t be. I won’t allow it. I came back to Ian, to make a home with him. That was the plan for my life—wasn’t it?
Feeling safe, knowing that he was waiting for me. That I could trust him to make everything all right.
Telling myself over and over again that I loved him. That I cared for him in a way that was good—and real, knowing he was kind and reliable, and that I would never have to worry about being hurt again.
She took a deep, wrenching breath, recognising that she’d treated all these hopes as certainties, wrapping them round her like some kind of security blanket, and hiding there. Unable—unwilling—to face the truth about her inmost feelings.
But just how secret had they really been? she wondered, as she went over her interview with Sir Gregory once again. Was he aware of her brief, wretched involvement with Darius seven years ago, and had he been trying to warn her that she still had nothing to hope for and that she would have done better to stay away for good?
Judging by her undisguised disapproval of Darius, Aunt Libby too must have guessed, and done her best to deflect her vulnerable niece from inevitable heartbreak.
And had Penny also known, and maybe even encouraged Darius to pay attention to a moonstruck teenager in order to conceal what was really going on between herself and her brother-in-law?
Although, she certainly wouldn’t have expected matters to escalate towards a full-scale seduction, unless, of course, sexual fidelity didn’t weigh very heavily with either of them.
Perhaps to Darius, I’m simply unfinished business, Chloe thought, feeling sick. A way to amuse himself while waiting to be reunited with Penny.
But at least the whole pitiful situation seemed to have escaped Mrs Thursgood’s far-reaching antennae, although that was little enough to be thankful for.
Flare barked sharply, pulling at her leash, eager to resume her walk, startling Chloe out of her unhappy reverie and back to the immediate present.
Oh, God, she thought guiltily, realising she was still standing like a statue in the middle of the lane, if a car had come round the corner at speed, it couldn’t have avoided us, and Flare at least doesn’t deserve it.
She moved hurriedly over to the verge and set off again, her mind teeming endlessly, wretchedly.
‘What am I going to do?’ she whispered under her breath. ‘What can I do?’
She remembered she’d once thought of trying to persuade Ian to move away and start again elsewhere. Now there seemed even less chance of his agreement, and maybe, now she’d faced up to her real feelings, she should cut Ian out of the equation altogether.
I’ve led him up the garden path for quite long enough, she thought, steeling herself, even if I meant it all for the very best, and would have done all I could to make him happy.
But if I’d loved him as I should, I would never have kept him waiting all this time. I’d have wanted to give myself—be his in every way, married or not. How could I not see that?
I’ve got everything so very wrong, she told herself. Treated him so badly. But now I must start putting it all right—for my own sake as well as his.
Because my next priority will be to contact my agency in London for a long-term job abroad in Europe or even America. Cut myself off completely and pray that time and distance will do its work.
Whatever happens here, she thought bleakly, I can’t be around to witness it. And the fact that my aunt and uncle are moving away too will help, because their news will be about another place and other people.
She recalled how Sir Gregory had asked her if she was the same person who had gone away all those years ago.
I said I was and I am, she thought bitterly, swallowing past the harsh tightness in her throat. Which is my own private tragedy. Because I was cut to ribbons through loving Darius when I first left—when I went away to university. It took me a year just to get my head together and start to do some work. I was amazed they didn’t throw me out.
He said the other night that he’d let me off lightly, but it isn’t true, because he nearly destroyed me.
Now, here I am, loving him still, and facing heartbreak all over again. And I haven’t even the excuse of being a teenager any more.
Flare was tugging her towards a favourite gateway, and she lifted the iron latch, unclipped the leash and let the dog bound into the empty meadow beyond, while she followed more slowly. The grass sloped down to a narrow stream and Chloe sank down in the shade of the solitary copper beech which grew on its edge, leaning thankfully back against its trunk.
Flare splashed straight
into the water, emerging damp, joyous and, after she’d shaken herself vigorously, ready for a game with the squeaky toy which she knew her silent companion had in the pocket of her jeans.
She’s so much wiser than me, thought Chloe, caught between tears and laughter. She knows that life simply goes on.
And however I may feel now, one day there’ll be another place far from here with a tree at my back and sunlight on water, and I’ll be healed. Or that’s what I have to believe. And then I may even be ready for a love and trust that will last for the rest of my life.
Her dress, classically strapless and full-skirted in jade-green taffeta, was hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. It was the last thing she’d seen before going to sleep the night before, and the first she glimpsed when she woke on the morning of the ball itself.
She sat up, hugging her knees, and warily contemplating its glowing magnificence through the shrouding plastic cover. No Lizzie Bennet lookalike this time, and not what she’d intended to buy at all.
It had been extremely expensive for one thing, and wearing it would almost certainly be a one-off. A dramatic statement that could not be repeated.
But there would never be any need for that, she thought, because in twenty four hours it would all be over. And the new Chloe Benson would be preparing once more for flight to a new life, having first sloughed off the half-truths and pathetic self deceptions of the old one. So maybe it was worth it.
Of course, there were still hurdles to be negotiated, like the essential long talk with her aunt and uncle, even if she could not be entirely frank with them about her motives for leaving.
A change of heart, she told herself. That was what she would say. And it was at least an approximation of the truth.
But Ian would have to be told first, and in spite of the personal difficulties they’d experienced since her return, she was not going to find it easy. Because she’d seen him for a drink the previous evening, and it had been strangely like old times in so many ways, with Ian quietly relaxed and in a reminiscent mood, as well as holding her with real tenderness as they said goodnight.
It had made her see why she’d thought she could make it work, she admitted ruefully. Even if the need for him—the ache for his touch—had never actually come between her and sleep. Which, in itself, should have warned her.
It was only when he’d driven off that she realised they hadn’t actually finalised what time he would pick her up for the ball.
Their last date, she thought, even though she had no real right to be going anywhere as his partner. Not any more. But she needed to dance, laugh and look like a girl without a care in the world. Someone with nothing but a lifetime of happiness in front of her.
The alternative, of course, was to invent some minor ailment—a stomach upset perhaps—and cry off. But she had not given that serious consideration.
Because she needed to know, she told herself. To see Darius and Penny together, the future baronet and his lady, and understand once and for all that she had nothing to hope for and it was time to draw a line and move on. After she had said a silent and final farewell.
She felt her throat muscles contract harshly, and closed her eyes, deliberately putting Darius out of her mind. She would deal with that situation when she had to, and not before.
She would think instead of other—minor—leave-takings. People and places she would miss. And, of course, saying goodbye to Flare.
Lizbeth Crane’s wrist was better now, and her husband had returned from Brussels the previous day, so her dog-walking services were no longer required.
‘You’ve been an absolute star.’ Mrs Crane had hugged her exuberantly. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘I was happy to do it,’ Chloe assured her. She paused. ‘I suppose I’ll see you at the ball.’
‘We wouldn’t miss it,’ said Lizbeth and hesitated in turn. ‘Although there are all kinds of strange rumours concerning it floating round the village.’ She gave Chloe an odd look. ‘And some of them, if they were true, could cause the most terrible damage. But I’m sure it’s all a pack of lies, and there’s nothing to worry about.’
She shook her head. ‘John’s always said that, in more enlightened times, Mrs Thursgood would have been ducked in the village pond.’
‘Almost certainly,’ Chloe said, forcing a smile, and wondering just how far the gossip about Darius and herself had spread in the past few days, and what had triggered it.
But at least it did not seem to have reached Ian, she reflected now as she made herself get out of bed and off to the bathroom for her shower. And she could only hope it never would. She did not want to add to the hurt she was bound to inflict anyway.
But, in that case, why was she maintaining the illusion they were still a couple? How unkind and unfair was that? She had stifled her pangs of conscience by telling herself it was dire necessity for her to go to the ball with an escort.
Now she had to face facts. I’m using him, she thought unhappily, as the hot water streamed over her. And that’s entirely wrong. I should have the guts to tell him first that it’s over between us, but that, although it’s a lot to ask, I’d still value his company this evening, and let him make the choice.
The chances were, of course, that he’d refuse, and angrily too. But that was a risk she’d have to take, even if it meant reverting to Plan B and staying away from the ball altogether.
‘Is Ian on duty at the centre this morning?’ she asked her uncle, who was swallowing the last of his coffee en route to the door.
‘No, he asked if he could have the time off for some reason, so I’m covering for him.’
‘Probably wants a rest before tonight’s frivolity,’ Chloe said lightly. It would be much easier, she thought, to talk at the cottage, although, ironically, it would be her first as well as her last visit to the Mark II version of it. But at least the alterations there were all Ian’s doing, and she had no vested interest in it.
Uncle Hal snorted. ‘Just as long as he’s not indulging in some Dutch courage as well, as he obviously did before that dinner party,’ he said drily, and left.
And just as long as nothing about tonight resembles that dinner party in any way, shape or form, Chloe thought, sliding bread into the toaster.
She was just finishing breakfast when Aunt Libby bustled in looking, harassed. ‘The agents have just rung to say they want to bring some people round at eleven o’clock for a viewing. And everywhere’s such a mess.’
The house was fine, Chloe knew, as it had been for the previous three viewings, but her aunt needed it to be immaculate.
She rose, putting her crockery in the dishwasher. ‘Then let’s get cracking,’ she said briskly. ‘Give the place the hardsell treatment.’
‘But you have an appointment at the Charm School in East Ledwick.’
‘Yes, but not till half-past eleven. I can lend a hand here first.’
Although it meant she wouldn’t have time to call on Ian on the way to the beauty salon as she’d planned, she thought. But the return trip would serve just as well. And maybe being manicured, pedicured and facialled first would provide her with a form of emotional body armour.
It was good to relax under the skilled hands of Bethany, the Charm School’s owner, and by the time the face mask was being removed Chloe felt totally refreshed, and had rehearsed exactly what she needed to say to Ian.
Except that he wasn’t there. The door of the cottage was locked, the curtains were half-drawn, and his car was gone.
I should have phoned first, Chloe told herself, as she went back to her own vehicle. Made sure he was around. Now I’ll just have to catch him later.
The first thing she noticed when she arrived back at the Grange was a ‘sold’ sticker across the house agent’s board in the garden.
‘Wonderful news,’ she called out as she entered the house. ‘Is the champagne on ice?’
To her surprise, there was no reply. And when she walked into the kitchen, she foun
d Aunt Libby sitting, staring into space, an untouched cup of coffee going cold on the table in front of her.
Oh, heavens, thought Chloe. It’s suddenly hit her that it’s done now, and there’s no going back. And that leaving is going to be a bigger wrench than she bargained for.
She said gently, ‘Listen, darling, it’s all for the best, and I’m sure, in your heart, you know that. And you’ll find another house you really love …’
But Mrs Jackson was shaking her head. ‘It’s got nothing to do with the house, Chloe. It’s something—completely different.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Ian’s been here. He arrived just after the other people had left.’
‘Which explains why I missed him at the cottage.’ Chloe refilled the kettle. ‘I suppose he came to say what time he’d pick me up tonight.’
‘No,’ said her aunt. ‘No, he didn’t. Because he won’t be going to the ball. He’s off on a week’s unpaid leave instead.’ She was silent for a moment, then said in a sudden burst, ‘Oh, Chloe, my dearest, he’s gone away with Lindsay Watson—to be married.’
Chloe put the kettle down very carefully, her head whirling.
She said carefully, ‘Ian—and Lindsay? I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, the gossip about them started not long after she arrived,’ Mrs Jackson said bitterly. ‘But I took no notice. They were both single, so I thought it was just—Willowford putting two and two together to make half a dozen.’
She paused. ‘But the rumours seemed to persist. Only then you announced you were coming back, and you seemed so confident about your relationship that I decided to say nothing. That maybe you’d both had flings while you were apart, because that’s how things are these days.’
‘No,’ Chloe said. ‘I didn’t.’ But not for Ian’s sake, although I made myself believe that it was, but because I wanted someone else to the exclusion of all others.
‘I suspected that things weren’t right between you,’ Mrs Jackson went on. ‘And wondered if I should say something, but I didn’t want to interfere, not again, and now I wish that I had, although I had no real evidence. They were both very discreet.’
