Betrayed. Part 13

Then, with a friendly wave for her father, who had accompanied them to the door, he set the powerful estate car in motion.

Beyond the courtyard in front of the house, a short drive gave on to the lane that led to the village. It was an uneven track at the best of times, and the dry spell, following on a period of rain, had left corrugated grooves in its surface. But the Mercedes handled them magnificently, its suspension ironing out all but the most rugged furrows. And Olivia, compelled to make some effort to break the uneasy silence that seemed in danger of continuing, murmured ruefully, 'This can't be doing your car any good, coming down here twice or three times in as many days.'

It's four days since I was here last,' replied Matthew, without expression, and Olivia realised his cordiality towards her didn't extend outside her parents' presence.

'Nevertheless----' she persisted, prepared to pursue it, but the look he gave her made her change her mind, and she looked out of the window instead. It was obvious he had no desire to debate anything with her, and she told herself she was glad. This way, she was not going to have to contend with him as well as his parents.

The journey to Rycroft took a little less than fifteen minutes, but by the time Matthew brought the car to a halt before the rambling old manor house Olivia was wishing she had persevered in her efforts to talk to him. She badly needed an ally, and no amount of self-justification could wholly a.s.suage the way she had treated him.

The engine died as he turned off the ignition, but before he could get out of the car, Olivia touched his arm. 'Matt----'

'Well?'

His response was barely encouraging, and she had the feeling he wouldn't have answered at all if he hadn't been aware, as she was, that other eyes could be on them.

'Do----' She choked, and started again. 'D-do you know why your mother's invited me here?' she ventured, and Matthew paused to regard her with cool-eyed indifference.

'What's the matter?' he enquired. 'Got cold feet?'

Olivia pressed her lips together. 'Yes,' she said at last, deciding not to prevaricate. 'Yes. As a matter of fact, I have. Are you surprised?'

'Nothing about you ever surprises me,' retorted Matthew coldly, thrusting open his door. 'Come on. As far as I know, you're not about to face a firing squad.'

'And that's supposed to rea.s.sure me?' exclaimed Olivia, somewhat bitterly, and in spite of himself Matthew stayed in this seat.

'No one's going to embarra.s.s you,' he replied wearily. 'Least of all me.' And Olivia's heart twisted at the dead expression in his eyes.

'Matt,' she began unwisely, 'about"about the other day----'

But evidently there were limits to how far he was prepared to go, and Matthew's mouth was grim when he came round the car to yank open her door. 'Forget it,' he said, and those few moments of tolerance might never have been. 'I have,' he added bleakly. 'Shall we go in?'

Olivia got out of the car with obvious reluctance. If it hadn't been for her father, she was sure she would have asked Matthew to take her home again. She didn't feel at all well, and the idea of sitting down to supper, of actually swallowing food, was nauseating. If nothing else, her grandmother had appreciated the position she was in. No one else seemed to.

But she was here now, and she had to go through with it, and, looking up at the wistaria-clad walls of the house, she thought how unchanging some things were. There had been a house on this land for hundreds of years, and although the present inc.u.mbent only owed its origins to the turn of the eighteenth century, it had a timeless quality. Of course, it had been added to over the years by its subsequent owners, and although it was substantially Georgian in design its raffish appearance possessed more charm than elegance. Nevertheless, it had beauty, and character, and Olivia had always liked coming here.

Maybe because this was her real heritage, she reflected bitterly, but somehow the thought lacked conviction. She was the product of her environment, not her heritage. A test case, if there ever was one.

Mrs Platt, the Ryans' housekeeper, was waiting in the open doorway, and her plump cheeks flushed with becoming colour when Olivia revealed she remembered her name, it's good to see you again, Miss Stoner,' she responded, closing the heavy door behind them, and Olivia wondered when she had graduated from being called by her Christian name to the more formal salutation.

'Are my mother and father in the library?'

Matthew was behind her, and Olivia moved aside to let him lead the way. Not that she didn't remember where the library was, of course, she thought unwillingly. Matthew had once made love to her there, while his parents were holidaying in the South of France---- 'Yes. They're waiting for you, Mr Matt,' Mrs Platt answered, fortunately interrupting Olivia's train of thought. But it was difficult to dispel the memories here, when there were so many to haunt her.

'Thanks.'

Matthew's smile was free of artifice and, watching him with the housekeeper, Olivia thought how carelessly she had once accepted his affection. He had used to smile at her like that, she remembered, his love enveloping her in a protecting cloak. She had taken so much for granted, in those halcyon days. Was it just because she was young, or had they really cared that much for one another?

As Matthew led the way along the hall to the library she tried to concentrate her attention on the house. This corridor, with its long windows overlooking the lawns and shrubbery at the front of the house, was usually called the gallery. Because of the many paintings hung between the windows, Matthew had explained.

Paintings of long dead inhabitants of Rycroft; though not all of them were his father's ancestors, he had a.s.sured her. Everyone knew the Ryans had only owned the estate since the middle of the last century. All the same, Olivia used to fancy she could see Matthew's likeness in a handsome young courtier, dressed in Tudor garb. Tonight, however, she had no time to study the paintings, even if she would have liked to. Matthew's parents were waiting, and he paused at the heavy door to the library, allowing her to catch up with him.

'Don't look so scared,' he said roughly, as if compelled to offer a support he had no real wish to give, and Olivia closed her eyes. d.a.m.n them, she thought bitterly: her mother and Matthew's father. They had really screwed up their children's lives.

'Olivia.'

The door was open now, and Matthew's father was coming forward to take her limp hand in a welcoming grip. He smiled, and she made an effort to respond, but her enthusiasm was lacking, and he must have sensed it.

'h.e.l.lo, Olivia.'

Lady Lavinia was behind her husband, and Olivia managed to put a little more feeling into her expression. After all, it wasn't Lady Lavinia's fault. She was just another innocent victim.

'h.e.l.lo,' she answered, managing to include them both in her greeting. 'I hope we haven't kept you waiting.'

'Would you like a drink?'

Matthew's voice was achingly familiar, extracting her from prolonged politenesses, and giving her a reason to cross the room to his side.

'Um"a dry sherry, if you have it,' she said, her eyes meeting his without volition. She couldn't help wondering what she would have done if he hadn't been here. Where the Ryans were concerned, she still felt like a schoolgirl.

'Matthew's been telling us you're a successful businesswoman these days,' his father declared approvingly, and, taking a rea.s.suring sip of her sherry, Olivia turned to face him.

'I run a small agency,' she admitted deprecatingly, suddenly noticing how much older Matthew's father looked. On the day of the funeral she had been more concerned with his behaviour than his appearance, but now she could see the changes his circ.u.mstances had wrought.

And yet he was still amazingly cheerful, she acknowledged, remembering the way he had always treated her with kindness and respect. Of course, with hindsight, it was possible to regard his friendliness towards her as a belated sense of guilt towards her mother, but Olivia preferred not to think of it that way.

Biased she might be, but in her opinion Matthew's father was one of nature's gentlemen. Which was ironic really, considering he had behaved in a most ungentlemanly fashion towards her mother.

She wondered if there was any resemblance between them.

She could see none, but perhaps she was just being optimistic.

Still, if anyone might have been expected to notice, surely it would have been him. Yet his att.i.tude towards her seemed just as impartial as ever.

'An agency for child-minders, I understand,' Lady Lavinia remarked now, and Olivia thought how typical it was of Matthew's mother to make it sound so trivial. She and her grandmother were two of a kind, she reflected drily.

'For nannies,' she amended, mildly, and Lady Lavinia arched an enquiring brow.

'But you were not trained as a nanny,' she pointed out smoothly, and Olivia lost a little of her nervousness as she went on to explain that, whatever her own lack of qualifications, the agency dealt only with fully qualified nurses.

'Well, anyway, I think Olivia's done very well,' said Matthew's father, inviting her to take a seat. 'I'm a great admirer of entrepreneurs, in any field. I wish I had had ideas like that.'

'I can't see you running an agency for nursemaids,' put in Matthew mildly, lightening the situation, and everyone laughed at the incongruity.

'Even so...'

Mr Ryan grimaced, and went off to get himself another Scotch and soda, and Lady Lavinia took the opportunity to ask Olivia if her parents were well, and bearing up in the present unhappy circ.u.mstances.

It was comparatively easy to talk about her parents, Olivia found. In spite of Matthew's father's past relationship with her mother, telling them what she knew about her grandmother's death was not controversial. It nicely filled the time between her arrival and Mrs Platt's announcement that the meal was ready, and when she sat down at the table she was almost ready to believe she had been worrying unnecessarily.

The food was impeccably served, as always. Olivia didn't know who had prepared the meal, but she actually enjoyed it, chatting with Matthew's father as if their relationship was no different from what it had ever been. It was the only way to cope with it, she realised. If she could pretend it had never happened, perhaps she could eventually find some peace of mind. But not with Matthew, she reminded herself tautly. Never with Matthew.

Afterwards they adjourned to the drawing-room for coffee, and Olivia accepted a small brandy, in lieu of a liqueur. It was only as she was enjoying the taste of the fiery liquid on her tongue that she realised she had been a little hasty in taking it.

Sherry, wine with the rack of lamb, and now brandy was quite a quant.i.ty of alcohol for someone whose head for such things had already proved unreliable, and she was further disconcerted when Lady Lavinia came to join her on the plush green sofa. Like her guest, Matthew's mother was carrying a goblet containing a measure of brandy, but Olivia felt herself stiffening again as the older woman's eyes speared hers.

'So,' she said softly, 'you decided to come back.'

'O-only for the funeral,' murmured Olivia quickly, aware of Matthew sitting at the piano, picking out a tune on the keys. The impressive grand piano was in the window embrasure some distance away, and she wondered if he could hear what his mother was saying. Probably not, she decided, and then changed her mind when he looked up and found her gaze upon him.

'Um" I'm going back to New York in a few days.'

'Are you?' She couldn't tell whether Lady Lavinia was relieved or not. 'You must like living in the United States.'

'Well, it's my home,' said Olivia, wishing her words held more conviction. She looked up at Matthew's father, who was standing beside the flower-filled fireplace, it" it was very kind of you to invite me here.'

'After everything that's happened? Yes.' Lady Lavinia didn't dispute the fact, and earned an impatient sigh from her husband.

'But, as I said on the phone, I prefer not to incite gossip. There has been enough talk about this family in recent years----'

'Oh, Mother!'

Matthew broke off his playing then to give his mother an imploring look, but Lady Lavinia merely tilted her head, it's true,'

she said. 'With Olivia running off like that, causing everyone to think she must be pregnant, and that you'd refused to marry her.

And then Helen proving to be so mercenary----'

I don't think Olivia wants to hear this, Vinnie,' her husband exclaimed wearily, but Lady Lavinia wouldn't be silent.

'Why not?' she demanded. She turned to Olivia. 'Were you pregnant? Was that why you left? If I do have a grandchild somewhere, that I've never been allowed to meet, I'd like to know.'

Olivia felt terrible now. 'There"there was no"baby,' she said, incapable of meeting Matthew's eyes. 'I'm sorry if people thought there was, but it wasn't true. I"I wouldn't have done that to"to anyone.'

Or would she? If she had found out she was pregnant, after what her grandmother had told her, it would have been the only thing to do.

Lady Lavinia's nostrils flared. 'Then it was as Matthew said: you simply didn't want to settle down?'

Olivia expelled an unsteady breath. 'Yes.'

Lady Lavinia shook her head. 'I find that very hard to believe, Olivia.'

'Why?' It was Matthew who spoke now, and Olivia realised he had left the piano to come and stand beside his father. 'Why should you find it hard to believe, Mother? You were never entirely in accord with our relationship, were you? Perhaps Olivia felt she couldn't stand the opposition.'

'Oh, no.' His mother looked up at him now, and her face was strangely anguished. 'No, I won't have that accusation levelled at me, Matthew. Not again. I may not always have approved of your a.s.sociation with Olivia, but I never stopped you from seeing her. Not once. You can't still blame me for what she did.

Dear G.o.d, haven't I suffered----?'

'I think we've all said enough about the past,' broke in Mr Ryan heavily, and for once his normally good-humoured features were grave. 'Vinnie, I'm sure Olivia didn't come here to listen to a catechism about what she did more than ten years ago. All right, we all felt pretty bad about it at the time, including Olivia herself, I dare say. But her reasons are no longer valid. For pity's sake, let it rest in peace!'

There was silence after this announcement, and Olivia forgot her misgivings and drank the brandy, because it gave her something to do. She should never have come here, she thought.

No matter what her father had said, she should have refused Lady Lavinia's invitation. She should have known something like this was bound to happen. The Ryans were only human, after all.

And in their eyes her behaviour must seem inexcusable.

Eventually, Mr Ryan tried to ease the situation by saying something about the current dry spell to Matthew, and Matthew responded in kind by telling his father that one of the old men in the village had a.s.sured him that rain was coming. They had a brief discussion about the merits of amateur forecasters, and then Olivia put her empty gla.s.s aside, and got determinedly to her feet.

'I think I ought to go,' she said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. 'Er"we keep early hours at home. Dad has to be up for milking at half-past five.'

'Of course.' Predictably, it was Matthew's father who answered her, and she was grateful to him for his understanding.

'I'll"er"I'll run you home myself.'

'That won't be necessary.' Matthew looked at his father now, and they exchanged a telling glance. 'I'll take Olivia home,' he said, and his mother breathed a sigh of relief.

'Thanks.'

Olivia felt obliged to make the expected rejoinder, and then the elder Ryans accompanied them to the door.

it has been good to see you again, Olivia,' Matthew's father a.s.sured her, as Matthew collected a jacket from the cloakroom, and even Lady Lavinia unbent sufficiently to add her endors.e.m.e.nt to her husband's.

'Perhaps one day you'll come back and see us again,' she said, and Olivia couldn't tell from her expression whether she meant it or not.

'Perhaps so,' Olivia murmured non-committally, and then Matthew was back, his leather jacket complementing his dark appearance.

'Let's go,' he said briskly, and Olivia made a final apologetic gesture before following him out to the car.

Although it wasn't a cold evening, the air outside was much fresher than it had been indoors, and Olivia immediately felt the effects of the incautious amount of alcohol she had consumed.

She wasn't used to mixing her drinks, and it took an amazing amount of determination to reach the car without deviating. She didn't feel drunk, just a little light-headed; but she wished she hadn't accepted the brandy, which had evidently been larger than she thought.

Still, once she was safely inside the car, she relaxed a little.

The evening was over, and she had succeeded in handling it with comparative restraint. After all, it wasn't every day she was expected to sit down to supper with a man who didn't know she was his daughter. Or with the man she loved more than life itself, she reflected bitterly, but who was forever denied to her...

CHAPTER TWELVE.

'Are you all right?'

Matthew was speaking to her now, and Olivia turned her head to look at him. His expression was hidden from her, but his profile was achingly familiar, and it took an actual physical effort not to reach out and touch him.