The Knapthorne Conspiracy

by Malcolm Ballard

  Bella couldn’t find it in herself to speak and remained where she was, resting her head on her mother’s knee and clutching her legs as if she didn’t want to let her go, now or ever. Sensibly, Maria let her have her tears, happy to wait until her daughter had regained some composure, content to stroke her hair as she had many times, waiting for her to go to sleep when she was a child. When Bella finally found her voice, they spoke of times such as those. Good times, of which there had been many. Times when they had laughed, and cried. Times which brought the memories flooding back, drawing them closer together, so that Maria knew the moment had come.

  “I know you don’t remember much of Patrick, your father, do you, bella mia?” The mention of his name had been unexpected, sending a shiver across her back and raising gooseflesh on her arms. Was her mother about to enlighten her, after all this time? Panic seized Bella and suddenly she wasn’t sure if she were better off only knowing what she already did, thinking of how she’d inspired Kyle into action and what had happened as a result.

  “It all seems so long ago, now, mama. Maybe it’s not so important any more.” Maria gave her a benevolent look.

  “Families are important, Arabella. And family history. Why not make yourself comfortable, in your chair. There are things you should know. Things I must tell you.” Bella couldn’t remember her mother ever sounding so melodramatic though she had been an actress in her younger days. As instructed, she resumed her seat then tucked her feet up beneath her. With a flick of her head she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and waited for her mother to begin.

  “Where to start?” As she voiced the rhetorical question, in her mind’s eye Maria took herself back down the years to a time when she had been a young married woman in a strange country. Wife of a flamboyant, eccentric Irishman, second son of a peer of the realm and living just outside of London.

  “Your father was such an attractive man,” she began. “Not the way he looked only, you understand. It was his personality.” She paused, thoughtful. “His charm,” she said, with a smile, having found the word she was looking for. “He came to watch Shakespeare, in Milano. Much Ado About Nothing, I remember, and we met afterwards at the party. Such a big, strong man. There was immediately the buzz between us! You know what I am saying?”

  “Yes, mama. I know! Go on.”

  “Well it was love at first sight for the two of us. Mind you, all the girls at the party felt the same about Patrick. He was a devil for the women!”

  Maria went on to talk about the early years of their relationship, how they had married and had their first child, her brother, Liam. The painful memory was evident in her eyes as she spoke of discovering Patrick’s infidelity. Even worse was the fact that he had embarked on the affair while she had been pregnant. Not until some years later did she discover that it probably wasn’t the first time he’d strayed either. They were living in London while Maria pursued her acting career and she had been too naïve, too much in love with him at the time to notice, she had confessed. Then Laura had come along and, for a while, Patrick changed, playing the part of the perfect father to the daughter that was so obviously his. Same eyes, same hair, same temperament.

  “Your father had a temper, too,” Maria said, “especially when he had been drinking, but when we were first married it didn’t seem to matter so much. He was bigger than life, it seemed.” Bella corrected her before Maria added that in those days she could be fiery too. “Patrick’s temper started getting him into trouble and one day he came home looking pretty beaten up. He had been away on business for his brother and, when I ask him what happened, he would only say that he had been in accident. What accident I do not know, I never find out.”

  “When was this?” Bella asked.

  “Oh, not long after you were born, carissima. When you came along, that’s when the real trouble started!”

  “In what way?”

  “Everything slowly got worse. Your father thought you were the most beautiful baby he had ever seen and your sister was immediately jealous. At first Patrick was besotted with you then I think he found being in the house with three children was just too much for him. After doting on Laura, he suddenly began to act as if she did not exist. So, Laura began to take his neglect out on you. I don’t know whether Patrick’s drinking got worse because his temper became more uncontrollable or whether it was the drinking that affected his temper. Anyway, by the time you were four years old, I was on the point of leaving him when he was killed in a hunting accident.”

  “And that’s about all I really knew of him,” Bella confirmed. Maria’s revelations had stunned her since, before now, Bella had simply assumed that the marriage had been a happy one.

  “It is all I wanted you to know, before now. You were so young when he died, what did it matter?”

  “Then why should it matter now, mama? Wouldn’t it have been better to have left things as they were? It must be painful for you to talk about.” Maria’s face softened as she held her daughter’s inquisitive gaze.

  “It is, cara mia, but I am not certain how it will be, after the operation. If anything should happen to me, I will be happier because you know the truth of these things.” Bella didn’t want to break down again and forced herself to be strong, for Maria’s sake. “Your father went from being lovable rogue to something I do not have the words to describe.” Trying to imagine what life had been like for her mother, Bella contemplated what effect her father’s change in personality must have had on his marriage.

  “Was Patrick unfaithful right from the start?”

  “I cannot say, bellissima, but it is more than likely. To your father it was like an addiction, I think. Sex was his drug. You may be thinking, like I did, why does a man like that marry? I don’t know! I’m not even sure if he could explain it.”

  “You haven’t told me everything, have you, mama?” Bella had fetched a brandy for them both, then returned to her armchair. Whilst pouring their drinks she couldn’t shake off the feeling that Maria’s story hadn’t finished. Surely being diagnosed with cancer wouldn’t convince her to confess to a failed marriage. There had to be more. Maria stared down at her brandy glass as she toyed with it in her lap, swirling the liquid around first one way then the other.

  “You are as perceptive as your mother, Arabella. The world can be an unpleasant place and sometimes people act in a way that is foreign to them. I loved Patrick, bella mia.” There were tears in her eyes as she looked at her daughter. “I loved him with all my heart, but he was not worthy of that love. When he became abusive and violent he turned me away. He crushed that love beneath his angry words and his fists and I turned to the one person I trusted and respected…”

  “Rupert!” Bella whispered.

  “Yes, his brother who had always been so kind and understanding.” A flicker of thought somewhere deep in the recesses of Bella’s mind was suddenly ignited into a firestorm as everything became clear. It was there in her mother’s eyes. As plain as the headline on the front page of a morning newspaper.

  “You and Rupert…” Her voice could barely be heard.

  “Yes,” Maria acknowledged the unspoken assumption. “Rupert is your father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Does Laura know?” It was the first thing that entered Bella’s head, knowing that Maria had been to see her sister first.

  “Good God, no!” her mother replied, looking appalled. “What do you take me for? Your sister is so"....she searched for the word... "unpredictable I wouldn’t dare. I see so much of Patrick in her it frightens me. The news is for your ears only. Laura I tell only about my illness, nothing more.” Maria’s eyes shone in the lamplight, perhaps reflecting an inner peace now that Bella knew the truth.

  “You are not shocked? Surprised even? Maybe a little disgusted with the morals of your mother?” In truth Bella was still coming to terms with what she had just found out. Maybe if she had been twenty years younger it would have meant a great deal more. Certainly, had Patrick still
been alive. Now her instinctive reaction had been to be secretly thrilled at the discovery. Instantly, the warm glow of affection she had always felt for the man became something deeper and stronger. The love of a daughter for her father. Caught up somewhere in the tidal surge of her emotions was a feeling of sympathy for Maria and a sense of being pleased for her mother in that she had found love in the arms of someone else. As for being shocked or surprised? That was the last thing she had felt. It was more a matter of everything seeming to make a kind of sense, finally. Her new-found knowledge went a long way towards explaining the feelings she had experienced as a young girl, and through her adult years, the origins of which had always been a mystery to her. Bella felt she should have known. Little pointers along the way which she should have picked up on she had chosen to dismiss. In hindsight now it seemed so obvious. Overwhelmed by the need to express her love for her mother Bella went to her and helped her up from the chair. They fell into each other’s arms and Bella clasped her mother to her. No words were necessary as they held each other tight, their cheeks wet with silent tears. A lonely, ageing woman and her loving daughter drawn even closer by the events of the past and an uncertain future.

  Not long after Maria succumbed to the tiredness which she had been trying to keep at bay for the previous two hours. Bella had noticed her struggling to keep her eyes open and suggested it was time for bed even though it was relatively early. For someone who was carrying the burden of an illness, who had driven on strange roads for many hours and then been through a traumatic emotional experience, it was time to rest.

  “That was a lovely meal and a nice evening, thank you.” She kissed her daughter lightly, on both cheeks.

  “An interesting evening, certainly.” Maria started to mount the stairs, eager to get bed as soon as possible. “If you’re up to it, tomorrow,” Bella said, “I’ll tell you all the exciting things that have happened to me since I’ve been living here.”

  “I can’t wait,” Maria replied, wearily, from the top of the stairs. “Buona notte.”

  Bella woke feeling invigorated from a restful night with no interruptions. It was the best night’s sleep she could remember having in a long time. Her most immediate thought, on waking, was that she wished her mother had have told her while Rupert was still alive. Now, Willow Cottage held an even more special place in her heart. Content to let her mother lay in until she was ready to get up, Bella found one or two little jobs to do to in an attempt to keep herself occupied until Maria appeared. When there was still no sign of her, for no other reason than it was a joy to be outside, she took a stroll around the garden savouring her mother’s recent news with every step. By the time she got back in the kitchen Maria, still in her robe, was in the act of taking a large container of juice from the refrigerator.

  “Good morning, mama! You obviously slept well.” She did indeed look rested and relaxed. “I thought we might take a walk later. Either through the woods or across the fields, whichever you wish.”

  “Sounds wonderful, cara mia. Will it be alright if I have a bath first?” Bella couldn’t help but smile.

  “You and your baths! Of course it will.” The Roffino house had no bath, only a shower. Every time Maria came to visit, Bella swore it was only because she wanted to use the bath. “Take your time, we’ll go out when you're ready.”

  “How are you feeling this morning? Any different?” Bella thought about it for a moment, then spoke with a slight look of uncertainty.

  “If I said I sort of felt complete now would you understand?” Her mother nodded, giving a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s not a very good way of putting it but you’ve not only filled in a missing part of my life…” She paused to find the right words. “You’ve also given me something to be proud of.” Maria raised her eyebrows, in surprise.

  “How is this so?”

  “I’ve always had a lot of respect for Rupert, as have many others, I know. To discover that I am his daughter gives me a very special feeling. And because you’re my mother,” she added swiftly.

  “Ah, what nonsense!” Maria scoffed. “I will go and have my bath quickly then we will go for this walk you speak of.” She turned to leave, clutching the glass of juice she had poured.

  “Take your time!” Bella shouted after her. “Relax for a change!”

  They walked in leisurely fashion, arm in arm, down the driveway talking about trivial things in an excited fashion, their laughter ringing in the cloister-like atmosphere beneath the trees. When they came to the point where the drive met Spinney Lane, Bella put the decision to her mother.

  “Which way do you want to go? Straight on, over there, leads to a small stream about twenty minutes to half-an-hour away. “Or,” she continued, gently swinging her mother around to the left, “we can go this way and cut across the fields. It’s up to you.” Maria thought about it, briefly.

  “The fields, I think. We will remain in the sun, hm?”

  “Good choice. Let’s go!” They set off the short distance down the lane that would bring them to the track. “If only I could do this sort of thing with your sister. It would be so pleasant. She seems always so…”

  “Uptight?”

  “Yes, that is very good word. Uptight. It is great pity.”

  “And you say you can see a lot of Patrick in her?” They had never talked like this before.

  “The bad things only. He had great humour, once, and could be very kind too. Everyone who did not really know him as I did liked him.” They had arrived at the beginning of the track, on their left, and Bella pointed to indicate to her mother where they were going.

  “What came over him, then? Why did he change like that?” Maria began to walk a little faster, to get the full benefit of their exercise.

  “Come, a little more speed, I think.” Bella followed her mother’s example as she waited for an answer. They were almost at the top of the rise before Maria replied.

  “Patrick always had the short fuse but, as he got older, he suddenly seemed to get worse. I wanted him to see the doctor but he was impossible. Could you imagine trying to tell your sister to do the same thing?” They both laughed at the thought, shaking their heads.

  “Don’t you mean my step-sister, mama?” Bella reminded her.

  “Whatever she is, it would be as difficult.” Momentarily, it seemed, her humour had deserted her.

  “So, what happened?

  “Patrick had a friend. A particular friend he went to the racing with.” Having reached the point where they now overlooked the village, they could either go straight on down the slope, or right, along the track that ran on the level across the crest of the hill.

  “Which way?” Maria asked, a little breathlessly. Rather than having to come back up the slope, Bella pointed to their right and they set off once again.

  “Racing? How do you mean racing?”

  “The horses. Patrick liked to gamble. So did his friend, the doctor.”

  “Ah, I see!”

  “One time he brought Patrick home, a little drunk. I put Patrick to bed and then I talk to the doctor.” Bella could see that Maria was having difficulty with both walking and trying to hold a conversation at the same time so she took hold of her mother’s arm.

  “Mother! Let’s slow down a little so that it’s easier to talk, alright?”

  “Si, It is a good idea. Perhaps I am not as fit as I think, eh?”

  At Bella’s insistence they turned around and began to make their way back, casually strolling along the track as Maria picked up from where she had left off.

  “Patrick’s friend convinced him to see a…” she paused, at a loss to remember the word.

  “A specialist?”

  “Si, grazi. This man did tests and found, maybe, a reason why Patrick is getting so mad.”

  “Patrick told you this?” Bella asked, in amazement.

  “Are you joking? Everything I find out from his friend, the doctor. By this time Patrick and I are talking very little. He got medicine, pills I t
hink, to control him but knowing my Patrick he probably wouldn’t have taken them. He hated taking pills.” The memory of those times still caused her pain but the passing of the years had made it more bearable. Maria reached for her daughter’s hand, feeling happier than she had done for a long, long time but Bella wanted to hear more, fearing that she might never get another opportunity like this.

  “Are you up to telling me how it finished, mama, what exactly happened to Patrick?” Her mother sighed, a despairing sound from deep within her, and closed her eyes briefly knowing that this moment was always going to happen.

  “Patrick and I had had a blazing row. Don’t ask me how but he had found out about Rupert and me. It was a terrible scene.” Bella squeezed her hand, sympathetically.

  “Maria, you poor thing. It must have been awful for you!” Her mother gazed bleakly at the rolling landscape, recalling the details as if it were yesterday.

  “He asked me about you, if you were his. I think he must have known but I told him. Told him that I was in love with Rupert and that you were his child and then he hit me. Slapped me so hard across the face it nearly knocked me over.” Recalling the memory, she rubbed her cheek softly as Bella slipped an arm around her mother’s shoulder and they stopped walking. Maria lay her head against her daughter and continued, in a soft voice.

  “For a moment, I thought he would hit me once more, perhaps even kill me. His face was red like it would burst and he was spitting like a madman.”

  “Spluttering.”

  “Is that the word?” Bella nodded. “Si, spluttering. Then he says he is going to kill Rupert, and dashes out. It is the last time I ever see him.” Having never been exposed to such violence, Bella couldn’t begin to imagine what must have been going through her mother’s mind at the time.”