Betrayed. Part 16

Felicity hesitated. 'I was pregnant, too.'

Olivia couldn't speak now. She just stared at her mother in disbelief, and Felicity, misinterpreting her silence, gave a rueful shake of her head. 'I know,' she said. 'You're shocked. I would be, too, if it was my mother telling me these things, but I think you're old enough now to understand that we can't always control our feelings. And"I was young, as I say. And Matt was just like his son"a very attractive man.'

Olivia could feel the hysteria rising in her throat, but she fought it back. 'So"so what did you do?' she asked, in a voice that didn't sound anything like her own, and her mother bent her head.

'I didn't have to do anything. I miscarried at three months, so the problem didn't arise. As to what I would have done, well"I suppose I could have gone away to have the baby, and then had it adopted. That was also what young women did in those days.

Being a single mother wasn't the accepted thing it is today.'

'And"and Mr Ryan?'

'Oh, Matt never knew. I did compose a letter once, but it was never sent. I wanted to tell him, you see. Foolishly, I suppose.

But he'd always wanted children, and it looked as though he and Lavinia couldn't have any. Then, as I say, Lavinia found she was expecting Matthew, and I miscarried----'

Olivia was trembling now, and she was glad she was sitting on her hands so her mother wouldn't notice. 'So" you told no one.'

'Only your father,' said Mrs Stoner gently. 'I told him before we got married. I wasn't a virgin, you see. And, that too, was of some significance then. But"he loved me enough to forgive me, and that's all that mattered. Not that your grandmother would have forgiven me, if she'd known. But happily these letters are from Matt to me, so she'd have found out nothing d.a.m.ning from them.'

Except that they're not all from Matthew Ryan to you, thought Olivia weakly, realising that her mother mustn't ever find out what Harriet Stoner had done. At present, Felicity was annoyed, and a little disturbed, that the old woman had hung on to the letters all these years. If she must ponder her reasons for doing so, let the doubts still remain.

'Would"would you like me to destroy them?' Olivia suggested now, and for the first time her mother noticed her discomfort.

'You're shivering, Livvy,' she said. 'Are you cold?'

'Just"just a bit,' murmured Olivia, not "altogether truthfully.

Although the colour had receded from her face, her racing pulse defied moderation.

I suppose you're surprised now that I encouraged your relationship with Matt's son, aren't you?' her mother asked, misinterpreting her expression. 'But I don't bear him any malice, you know. Matt loved me. I know he did. And nothing would have made us happier than if his son and my daughter had fallen in love.' She shrugged. 'But it wasn't to be. Though for quite a time we thought it was.'

Olivia wanted to weep; but that would come later. Right now, she had to protect her mother. 'Um"shall I burn the letters?' she suggested, keeping her voice light. 'I"don't think"Dad"would appreciate Gran's motives for keeping them either.'

'No. No, you're right.' Her mother nodded, and without examining them any further she thrust them into her daughter's hand. 'Yes. Get rid of them, Livvy. I don't think we should mention them at all. It can be our secret.'

Our secret!

As she lay in bed that night, those words repeated themselves over and over in Olivia's brain, until she thought she would go mad. Our secret! But not her secret, or her grandmother's secret, but her mother's secret. A secret that had been history before she had ever been born.

All these years, she had been believing a lie. Or, if not a lie, then at least a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding! Dear G.o.d, if only she had had a little more faith in her mother and gone to her when her grandmother had first told her about the letters. If only she had been more trusting, the last ten years could have been so different.

And yet, the fact remained that even now she was unable to tell her mother what had happened. And besides, what if it had been true? What if her grandmother's suspicions had been correct? She might have precipitated the kind of argument that could have only ended in disaster. And if her father had had no knowledge of the affair, how might he have reacted to her revelations? Not to mention her mother herself...

No, on reflection, her behaviour was justifiable, even if it didn't alter the mess she had made of her life. Before finally destroying the letters, she had read the letter her mother had written, and never sent, to Matthew Ryan, one last time, and it was amazing how things leapt out at her, now that she was seeing it in a different light. The bit where her mother had said she had wanted to tell him about the baby, because it was what he had always wanted, for instance. If she had thought about that seriously, she might have wondered at the wording. After all, she had a.s.sumed the letter had been written after Matthew was born, so why would her mother use those words? And Matthew, too.

He wasn't mentioned at all. Surely her mother would have mentioned him, in the same way that she had mentioned Lady Lavinia. But she hadn't. Because he wasn't around. Because he hadn't even been born!

Of course, it was easy now to see the discrepancies.

Everything was easier with hindsight. And she couldn't help wondering if her grandmother really had believed what she had told her. Harriet Stoner had been very astute, too astute, surely, to be taken in by a mistake. Yet, if she had known the true story, why had she done it? There seemed no sense in destroying Olivia's life for no apparent reason.

Olivia slept badly, and was up at first light, leaning on the window sill, breathing in the cool country air. There was nothing like the smell of the country, she thought. And to someone who had spent the last ten years in the city, it was doubly appealing.

She doubted Perry would agree with her. He turned up his nose at country smells, and country ways, and she knew he was happiest in the air-conditioned luxury of his New York apartment. Although he insisted on eating natural foods, he had no real desire to know where they had come from. His housekeeper did his shopping in the most exclusive health stores available.

Which made his trip to Lower Mychett so uncharacteristic.

He had evidently been concerned about her, and she appreciated it. But she had the guilty feeling she was going to disappoint him, as she had once disappointed Matthew. Because she knew she couldn't marry him now. If nothing else, the past twenty-four hours had convinced her of that. So long as she and Matthew were not related, there was always a chance that one day they might come together. Though when that was likely to be was much less easy to hazard.

For, in the dark reaches of the night, after the euphoria of learning that Matthew was not her brother had died down, common sense had rea.s.serted itself. She knew it was all very well thinking how wonderful it was that the emotions she had for Matthew need no longer be denied, to herself at least, but basically the situation as it was now hadn't changed. Oh, she could stop feeling bad for loving him, that was true; but he was still married to Helen, and that was unlikely to be altered. What had Matthew said? That Helen would give him a divorce for a price. But would that price mean her father's livelihood? And if it did, how could she jeopardise his future?

In one respect, at least, she suspected Helen might be right.

If"and it was only a hypothetical if"if she were to ask Matthew to divorce Helen and marry her, he might do it, whatever the cost. She had some idea now of how Matthew had suffered when she went away, and, although she might not deserve it, given an ultimatum, he might be prepared to do it.

But she couldn't risk that. Indeed, as the night had worn on, she had come to the awful conclusion that she and Matthew would never have a future together. After all, Helen needed money. That much was obvious. And, without the incentive of some reward for her cooperation, she wasn't going to make it easy for them. There seemed no way Matthew could free himself without disabling the estate completely.

That was why Olivia was up at dawn, knowing it was probably the last time she would spend the night in Lower Mychett. She was going back to New York. She had decided that in the wee small hours. And if she left now, she knew she would never come back. Whatever happened, Matthew would never understand, never forgive her...

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The phone rang, and Agnes Reina picked it up. It's Perry,'

she said, pressing the b.u.t.ton that cut her voice off from the caller. 'Do you want to speak to him?'

Olivia sighed, and shook her head. 'No,' she said quickly, and then, as her conscience p.r.i.c.ked her, she held out her hand for the receiver. 'Oh"all right. Give it to me. I suppose you can't go on saying I'm in a meeting. But I wish he wouldn't keep calling me.'

Agnes shrugged her slim shoulders. She was a tall, dark, attractive woman, in her mid-thirties, whose part-Asian ancestry was only evident in the olive-tinged smoothness of her skin. She and Olivia had known one another for almost eight years, and for the past seven they had shared the running of the child-nursing agency. With one failed marriage behind her, and a distinct aversion to trying another, Agnes had proved a good friend to the English girl, and she was the only person, outside of Olivia's own family, who knew why she had come to the United States in the first place.

'Why don't you tell him there's someone else?' Agnes suggested now, returning to the pile of applications she had been vetting before the phone rang. 'I find that's a sure-fire put-off.'

'But how can I?' protested Olivia, without releasing the b.u.t.ton. 'He'd know that wasn't true.'

'Then make it true,' retorted Agnes flatly. 'You know Glenn Forrester would jump at the chance to----'

'But that would only complicate the situation even more,'

exclaimed Olivia unhappily. The young lawyer in the office down the hall had made several attempts to date her, but although she liked him she had no more desire to get involved with him than she had to continue her a.s.sociation with Perry.

'Then it's up to you,' said Agnes, washing her hands of the whole problem. 'By the way, did you get around to ringing Gillian Stevens? I interviewed her while you were away, as I said, and I really think you'll be impressed with her credentials.'

Olivia propped her head on one hand. 'No,' she said now.

'No, I didn't ring her. I forgot, I'm afraid. Just give me a minute to deal with this, and I'll get round to it.' Her head was aching, as she released the hold b.u.t.ton. 'h.e.l.lo, Perry. Can I help you?'

'You can start answering my calls yourself,' Perry retorted testily, and she heaved a heavy sigh.

'I'm sorry---'

'So you should be. Do you realise I've not seen you once since we got back?'

Olivia shook her head. 'I have been busy, Perry----'

'Not that busy. I've called your apartment a dozen times, and all I get is your answering machine.'

Olivia felt guilty. She had left the answerphone on deliberately. It wasn't that she had been out. Only when she got home in the evenings she was usually too weary to take any more calls.

'What can I say?' she murmured now, and Agnes looked up from her desk to give her a resigned look.

'You can say you'll have dinner with me tonight,' Perry declared forcefully. 'I think you owe it to me, Olivia. If this is the brush-off, at least have the guts to tell me so in person.'

'All right.'

Olivia gave in, and as if unable to believe in her unqualified submission Perry added, 'All right"what?' rather warily.

'All right. I'll have dinner with you,' said Olivia equably, ignoring Agnes's knowing shake of her head. 'Um"call for me at seven-thirty, will you? I may be late home, and I'll need some time to shower and change.'

'OK.'.

Perry sounded as surprised as he obviously felt, but Olivia replaced her receiver with the air of someone who had achieved a minor victory. 'Well,' she said, before Agnes could make any biting comment, 'I do owe it to him, to be honest. Tonight, I'll tell him I can't see him again. I should have done it weeks ago.'

'Really?'

Agnes didn't sound convinced, and Olivia couldn't altogether blame her. It was three weeks since she had returned from England, and since then she had been making excuses for not seeing Perry. She knew why, of course. They had been friends for a lot of years, and she had depended upon him in the past.

Seeing Matthew again had weakened her, she realised that now.

Without his influence, she wouldn't be finding her independence so daunting, or putting off making the final break with Perry. But the truth was, for the first time in her life, she was afraid of facing the future alone.

Still, she had no right to use Perry as she had been doing, and that was why she was going to do what she should have done when she first got back from England. She hoped he would understand. He had been a good friend, and she didn't like hurting him. But, whatever happened, he had to know she couldn't marry him. Not now. Not ever.

In the event, Olivia arrived home earlier than she had antic.i.p.ated. In a fit of generosity, Agnes had suggested she take the rest of the afternoon off to prepare for the evening. 'You look tired,' she said frankly, and Olivia pulled a wry face. 'Have a rest,' she added. 'You look as though you need it. And stop worrying. Everything will turn out for the best. You'll see.'

Olivia wished she could believe her. As she shed her shoes and jacket in the foyer of her apartment, she could see no glimmer of light in the dark tunnel of her days, no shred of hope in the fabric of her despair.

She would get over it. She told herself that. She had got over Matthew before, and she would do it again. Or so she hoped.

The trouble was, she was older now, and she felt everything much more strongly. And now she knew that time didn't heal all wounds. Some were simply too deep to heal. And she had the feeling that even the catharsis of leaving England, of putting more than three thousand miles between them, was not going to help her this time.

Leaving England had not proved to be a problem, she recalled, treading heavily into her sunlit living-room. Oh, her parents"and she could really think of both of them as her parents now"had been sorry to see her go, but they thought she loved Perry, and she hadn't disillusioned them. It was easier that way. If she had even intimated that anything else was the case, she would have been bogged down with explanations"explanations she didn't want to give. For how could she explain why she had left home ten years ago, if she admitted now that she loved Matthew? Besides, even if she could have got over that obstacle, there was still Helen to think of, and, whatever Matthew said, she was his wife.

Still, it had been quite a relief not to see Matthew again before she left. Given what she now knew, would she have been strong enough to tell him goodbye, or would the inherent weakness she had where he was concerned have overwhelmed her? Happily, she had not had to put it to the test, and she and Perry had left without hindrance, the day after that disturbing conversation with her mother.

Now, Olivia padded into her bedroom, dropping her shoes in the bottom of her wardrobe and taking off the rest of her clothes before going into the adjoining bathroom. She was hot, and tired, as Agnes had said, and after a shower she was going to take her friend's advice and have a rest. She would need all her strength to face Perry this evening.

Actually, she did fall asleep, for a short time at least, and when she awakened she did feel a little more refreshed.

Sufficiently so to take the time to choose something attractive from her wardrobe, so that when Perry rang her bell she knew she was looking her best.

She opened the door at once, the folds of her amethyst-coloured silk georgette culotte suit swinging about her slim legs. With her hair loose, and silky-soft about her shoulders, she looked young and appealing, and only the dusky shadows beneath her eyes betrayed her inner conflict.

'At last,' remarked Perry tersely, stepping forward, so that she was obliged to move aside to let him into the apartment. 'I was beginning to think I'd offended you.'

'Offended me?' Olivia used his words to give herself time to think of a reply. 'No. Why should you think that? I told you, I've been busy, that's all.'

'Have you?'

Perry paused in the middle of her living-room and folded his arms, and Olivia wondered if, when they first met, she had not been subconsciously looking for someone who was the exact opposite of Matthew. Perry was fairly tall, it was true, but that was the only resemblance between them. Where Matthew was broad-shouldered and muscular, Perry was slim and slightly effete, and although his hair was expertly tinted these days he had always been fair. Fair-skinned, and fair-minded, she hoped, dreading having to tell him that she couldn't see him again.

'Well"not precisely,' she admitted now. 'Perry, there's something I have to tell you---'

'Surprise me,' he remarked, shaking his head. 'Doesn't the condemned man even get a drink before the axe falls?'

Olivia's face flooded with colour. 'I"don't know what you mean.'

'Oh, don't give me that, Olivia, please.' Perry regarded her with asperity. 'I'd have to be particularly wooden not to know that you've been avoiding me since we came back from England.

I a.s.sumed there was someone else. So why don't you put me out of my misery?'

'Oh, Perry.' Conversely, Olivia felt awful now, and crossing to the liquor cabinet, she poured him the gimlet she knew he preferred. 'I'm going to miss you.'

'Are you?' Perry came to take the drink from her, and sipped it thoughtfully. Then, finding it to his liking, he added, 'Does it have to be like that?'

Olivia looked puzzled. 'Like what?'

'Us. Not seeing one another,' explained Perry, looking at her over the rim of his gla.s.s. 'I'd like to think we could still be"friends.'

Olivia blinked. 'You would?'

'Why not? You might just get tired of this new man, whoever he is. And I'd like to be around to pick up the pieces.'

'Oh.' Olivia shook her head now. 'I'm not seeing anyone else.'

Perry put his drink down and stared at her. 'You're not serious!'

Olivia swallowed. 'I am.'

Perry was amazed. 'But then why----?'

'It's a long story,' said Olivia, turning away from him, and putting some distance between them. She crossed her arms across her body, and gripped her elbows. 'There is someone; someone in England. But"he's married, and"he can't get a divorce.'