His Convenient Marriage (16 page)

She glanced up, a little startled. 'Well, yes, but...'

'But Nurse Taylor is waiting to settle my father down for the night. Besides, he doesn't understand a word you're saying,' he added with a shrug.

'You can't know that,' Chessie objected. She turned back to Sir Robert, and squeezed his hand. 'I hope you'll let me come back and see you again very soon,' she told him softly.

As she followed Alastair to the door she turned back, lifting her hand in farewell, and realised the sick man's gaze was still fixed on her, almost as if he was silently pleading with her. Or was she just being fanciful?

She smiled at Nurse Taylor who was waiting impas¬sively. 'I'm sorry if I've interrupted your routine.'

'Please don't apologise. I'm sure it's done him good,' the older woman returned. She lowered her voice. 'And you're quite right. He understands far more than people credit,' she added, casting a significant glance at Alastair's retreating figure.

As Chessie joined him Alastair sent her a faintly derisive look. `I never took you for Florence Nightingale, my sweet. Is this something you've learned from coping with your fiancé?'

She stared at him with frank distaste. 'That's a thor¬oughly unpleasant suggestion. What on earth's happening to you, Alastair?'

He shrugged defensively. 'Sorry, Chess, I'm just a bit wound up. To be honest, bringing Dad back here isn't working—for any of us.'

'But I thought this was where he wanted to be.'

'That was before he had the second stroke.'

'Oh.' Chessie shook her head. `I didn't realise there'd been more than one.' She halted, gesturing round her. 'But surely being in his own environment again—back in the house he loves...'

'I'm not convinced he knows where he is, whatever that nurse says,' Alastair said moodily. 'After all, it's her job to boost his chances. Where there's life, there's hope and all that.'

'But people do make amazing recoveries...'

'Yes, but at what cost?' he demanded, impatient again. 'This house is a dinosaur. It eats money. And Dad's had so many chances to sell it, even before he went to Spain. A hotel chain were after it, and one of the private health companies, as well as property developers. It has to go, and as far as I'm concerned it should be sooner rather than later. Just as soon as I get control of my father's affairs, in fact.'

'But it's your family home,' Chessie protested. 'There have been Markhams here for generations.'

'Well, here's a Markham that has very different plans.' He saw her white face, the sudden tears in her eyes, and softened his tone. 'Chessie, my father would be far better off in a good nursing home. You must see that.'

'Would he?' she asked bitterly. 'All I can think about is how he'd hate to know these decisions were being made for him. In spite of him, even.' There was a choke in her voice. `I remember what he was like—before. The way he'd stride about, giving his orders. He was so strong, so full of life, and now he's totally helpless in that ghastly chair—and it's so awful,' she added passionately. I—I can't bear seeing him like that.'

Alastair put his arms around her, drawing her forward to lean against his shoulder. 'Poor Chess,' he muttered. 'But it's terrible for me, too, you know. And I have to decide what's best for everyone.'

For everyone? Chessie wondered. Or for yourself—and Linnet...

Distressed as she was, she experienced a sudden uneasy prickle of awareness. Looking round, she saw Miles stand-ing at the end of the corridor, leaning on his cane. He was watching them, his face expressionless.

'Oh.' She detached herself hurriedly, aware that she was blushing. 'Alastair—you haven't actually met my fiancé, Miles Hunter.' Her words seemed to tumble over them¬selves. 'Miles, this is Alastair Markham.'

Miles limped forward, extending his hand. 'How do you do?' he said with cool politeness. 'Lady Markham wanted you to know that dinner is served.'

'Oh, dear. Have we kept you all waiting?' Alastair smiled with easy charm. 'But Chessie and I had things to talk over.' He gave her a swift, almost caressing smile. 'I'd better go and grovel to Stepmother.'

He disappeared, leaving Chessie and Miles alone to¬gether.

There was a taut silence. Then: 'That,' Chessie said in a fierce whisper, 'was not what you think.'

'Unless you've become a mind-reader,' Miles drawled scornfully, 'you can't possibly know what I think.'

`I can make an educated guess,' she flung back at him. 'But you're wrong. His father's in a bad way, almost com-pletely paralysed, and I was upset, that's all.' She dragged a hand across her damp cheeks. I just wasn't prepared— not when I remember how things used to be...' she added in a muffled voice.

'I'm sorry,' Miles said quietly, after a lengthy pause. 'It can't be easy for you.'

'I'll survive.' She lifted her chin, forcing a smile. 'Now I'd better do something about my face.' And she walked quickly away.

The meal that followed did little to raise her spirits. Linnet dominated the conversation, talking with open dis¬content about the wonderful life she'd been forced to aban¬don in Spain, and how she couldn't wait to return.

Which would happen, Chessie supposed bitterly, when Wenmore Court was sold to the highest bidder, and Sir Robert was safely hidden away in some private facility.

She sighed quietly, then looked up to find Miles' reflec¬tive gaze fixed on her. She offered him a tentative smile, but it was not returned. Instead he turned to Linnet with some bread and butter question about the Spanish property market.

She bit her lip, then switched her attention to Alastair. 'Is the Midsummer Party still going ahead?'

He offered her more wine, and, when she declined, filled his own glass. 'We thought we'd give it a whirl,' he agreed carelessly. 'Go out on a high note. There isn't time to or¬ganise the usual full-scale fete, of course. So it will just be the evening party.'

To which I was never invited, Chessie thought.

'Which reminds me,' Linnet broke in. She gave Miles a seductive smile, making great play with her eyelashes. 'As the party's for charity, I thought it would be fun to have a celebrity speaker during supper. Just ten minutes' light chat about past career and future plans, you know the kind of thing. And you'd be ideal.' She put a coaxing hand on his arm. 'So you will be a darling, and help us out, won't you?'

'I'm afraid not,' Miles returned, unmoved. 'I'll gladly make a donation, but I don't do public appearances.'

'But you've no need to feel self-conscious,' Linnet purred. 'And nearly everyone there will be local, so they'll understand, anyway.'

Chessie found she was holding her breath, but Miles was imperturbable.

'Thank you for being so reassuring,' he said, 'but my answer still has to be "no".' He paused. 'For one thing, I'm not sure what my plans will be around that time.'

'Oh, well.' Linnet gave a fatalistic shrug. 'I'll have to think of something else. Unless of course you were sweet enough to change your mind,' she added with another daz¬zling smile. 'But I suppose that's too much to hope for.'

'I'm convinced of it,' Miles said gently, and changed the subject.

Leaving Chessie to ponder exactly what those plans he'd referred to might be...

'Did you say these people were friends of yours?' Steffie enquired caustically.

Dinner was over, and Linnet had swept both her female guests up to her bedroom 'to freshen up' as she'd coyly put it. She'd left them there to their own devices, merely telling them that there would be coffee in the drawing room when they came down.

Chessie fiddled with her lipstick. 'Not exactly,' she re¬turned reluctantly. 'The summer I left school, I spent some time with Alastair, that's all.'

Steffie's brows lifted. 'Really? Was it serious?'

`I thought so then. But it was just a boy/girl thing. It petered out when his father sent him to business school in America.' She hesitated.` I don't actually think Sir Robert approved, anyway.'

`I see.' Steffie dabbed scent on her wrists. Her voice was level. 'And is that why you were gone for such ages before dinner—because you were catching up on old times?'

'No, of course not. I was trying to talk to Sir Robert.' She shook her head. 'He seemed to know who I was, but it wasn't easy. He can't move—or speak.'

Steffie was silent for a long moment, then she said qui¬etly, 'That—does not bear thinking about. Poor man.'

She sighed abruptly, then determinedly took herself in hand. 'So what about the glamorous Lady Markham, then?' She glanced round her surroundings with unholy appreci¬ation.` I suppose this is what they mean by a boudoir. I love the curtained bed and fluffy rugs—just like an old-fashioned Hollywood film set. I keep expecting someone to shout "Camera! Action!"' She chuckled. 'The tub for two in the en suite bathroom is fairly special, as well.' She paused, thoughtfully.` I wonder who shares it with her.'

`I suppose Sir Robert used to.' Chessie tried to visualise this, and failed. In fact, she couldn't imagine him forging a path through the bedroom's floating draperies either.

Steffie put her scent back in her bag, and closed it. 'Did you tell Miles how bad he was?' Her tone was over-casual.

'I didn't really have a choice. He could see I was upset.' Chessie gave her a puzzled look. 'Why do you ask?'

Steffie sighed again. 'It's just that it could have stirred up a hornet's nest for him.' She hesitated. 'Has he told you why he still walks with a limp?'

'He rarely mentions any of it.'

'After the incident, they had to operate to remove steel fragments, and the X-rays showed one piece embedded near his spine.' Steffie's face relived the nightmare. 'He was told that removing it was not going to be easy, and that even if they succeeded there was a fifty-fifty chance that he'd be left paralysed.'

She shuddered. 'It was a ghastly possibility, and he was emotionally shattered anyway, while Sandie was having hysterics all over the place, so—he told them not to risk it.' She gave Chessie a wan smile. 'But it's still a sensitive topic'

'Yes,' Chessie said slowly. 'I—I can see it would be. I'm glad you told me.'

'However, it's well in the past,' Steffie continued more robustly. 'And now he has the future to look forward to— with you. So no need to raise it, really—unless he does.'

No, Chessie thought as she followed her downstairs. No need at all.

She couldn't wait for the evening to be over, but it seemed to drag on for ever. In the drawing room, she found that Linnet had stationed herself next to Miles on one of the sofas, and embarked on the kind of murmured conver¬sation that required her to lean intimately towards him, and touch his arm a lot.

Alastair, looking moody, was fiddling with the small pile of sheet music on top of the grand piano.

'Chessie—do you remember this?' He'd picked up one of the pieces, and was beckoning to her. Reluctantly she went over to him. 'It's that duet we used to play.' He smiled at her coaxingly. 'Shall we try it out again?'

'Oh, no,' she protested. 'I—I haven't played the piano in years. I really can't...'

'Of course you can.' He was arranging the music on the stand, placing the piano stool correctly. 'Come on, it'll be fun.'

'Yes, why not?' Steffie urged, smiling. 'Did you know your fiancée could play the piano, Miles?'

His smile was cool, almost cynical. 'No, but then Chessie has so many little secrets.'

Biting her lip, she joined Alastair on the piano stool. It was the kind of bravura piece that sounded more difficult than it actually was, and after a nervous start she acquitted herself well.

'There you are.' Alastair gave her a lingering smile as the others applauded. 'Perfect harmony.' Chessie wanted to scream.

'Well, that was a barrel of laughs,' Steffie observed as the car made its way down the drive at last. 'Lady Markham was paying you a lot of attention, brother dear. Practising for when she's a merry widow?'

`I don't think she needs to.' Miles' tone was sardonic. 'I'd say her plans are already made.'

When they reached Silvertrees, Steffie excused herself almost immediately, and went to bed. 'Too much excite¬ment is bad for me,' she explained.

'And what about you, Francesca?' Miles said softly when she'd gone. 'Are you going to be too excited to sleep to¬night?'

'Why should I be?'

He shrugged. 'You had quite an eventful time. That was—a virtuoso performance you gave.'

'My piano playing has never been more than mediocre,' she denied curtly.

'Ah,' he said. 'But perhaps I wasn't talking about the duet.'

'Then say what you really mean.' Chessie rounded on him with sudden fierceness. 'Because I've had it up to here tonight. I was snubbed by that bitch,' she went on hotly. `I had to watch someone I once respected suffering and help¬less. And to cap it all, the Court's going to be sold off as ghastly flats or something—and—and they're all going to leave...'

And, to her own surprise, she burst into tears.

Miles said wearily, 'Oh, dear God.' He led her over to a sofa, made her sit, pressed an immaculate handkerchief into her hand, and brought her a glass of brandy as she sat, hiccupping, her eyes streaming.

'No, drink it,' he directed as she tried to demur.

She wanted him to sit beside her so that she could throw herself into his arms and weep all down his shirt, but he took a seat on the sofa opposite instead.

After a while, he said, 'You really care, don't you?'

'I didn't think so.' She drank some of the brandy. 'But I suppose I must.'

How can I explain, she thought, that Sir Robert's face doesn't belong to him any more, and his clothes all seem too big as if he's shrunk? And instead of being the master in his own house, he's just a nuisance that they'll shunt into a home and forget, because Linnet wants to go back to Spain, and Alastair's got a job in the City, and they're both vile and shallow.

And, worst of all, how I keep thinking that it could be you in that wheelchair, unable to move. You—my dear love...

And that is the unbearable thing. Which I cannot tell you because I'm not supposed to know.

She put down the glass. 'I'm sorry. I've behaved like an idiot. I—I'll go to bed now.'