Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (58 page)

‘Darling,’ Izzie said very quietly so as not to frighten her, dropping down on to the floor herself, ‘darling, what is it? Tell me, come on, come and sit on my knee.’

‘It’s Daddy,’ said Clio, climbing into Izzie’s arms, her voice broken with tears. ‘He didn’t come. He kept saying he wanted to see me being a bridesmaid, in his letters, and I thought he would, I thought he’d come today, but he didn’t, he didn’t even ring up, I don’t think he loves me any more, I think he’s forgotten all about me—’

She stopped, tears drowning her voice. Izzie sat holding her very tightly, guilt rushing at her in a tidal wave, guilt, sorrow, and a sharp memory of how it felt to have a father who seemed not to love you.

‘Darling Clio, he does love you,’ she said, tears heavy in her own voice, ‘he loves you very, very much. More than anyone else in the world.’

‘But he isn’t here, why isn’t he here?’

‘Because – well, because he couldn’t be. He’s so far away—’

‘You’re here,’ said Clio with blinding logic.

‘Darling, I know, but . . . but—’

‘I don’t like it here, I want to go home. I want to go home so much.’

‘Oh sweetie, don’t you want to have your picture taken, with Kit and Clemmie? Don’t you want to have a lovely lunch at your granny’s house—’

‘No, I want to go home,
now
, he might be there, he might, he might have come, and not know where we are, please, please take me home—’

She was crying harder now, sounded almost hysterical, her little body shaking with grief.

‘Clio, I can’t take you home, I—’ She stopped. She could; she perfectly well could, she could get a taxi, and take her home.

She stood up suddenly. ‘Yes, darling, all right, I’ll take you home. Here, take my hand, and we’ll go very quietly, out of that side door, look, so no one sees us. Come on, no more crying now, just do what I say—’

She saw the verger suddenly, went up to him.

‘Could you, please, tell one of the wedding party, preferably Lady Arden, that I’ve taken Clio home, that she wasn’t very well—’

And then they were out of the side door and out of the church gate, the small one at the side, and into the road, and the pair of them were running, running as fast as Clio’s little legs would go, away up Old Church Street, and towards the Kings Road.

And so it was that when Celia and Venetia reached the house in Montpelier Street just over an hour later, they found Izzie and Clio sitting on the stairs, wrapped in each other’s arms, and, in her bedroom, a very pale and tear-stained Adele, lying back on her pillows, with a heap of pills and a half-empty bottle of champagne on her bedside table, and her doctor sitting beside her, taking her pulse and holding her hand.

CHAPTER 30

They were all mad, these Lyttons, Jenna had decided: in their various ways. She was awfully glad she wasn’t one.

But at least she was going to be allowed to go and see the Millers again. She was to go down there to stay for a few days. Her mother had a lot of work to get through she said, at the office, ‘and various other things’. Jenna didn’t know what they were, but Barty had gone off rather mysteriously the morning after the wedding to an appointment somewhere in a place called Chancery Lane. Jenna had hoped it might be in the country and asked if she could go, but Barty had said absolutely the reverse, and that it was going to be a very boring meeting with some lawyers. But they were to be in England for another week, and so, she said, Jenna might just as well be down there where she was happy. Joan and Billy had said she should come for as long as she liked. ‘Maybe for ever?’ said Jenna, laughing; but she didn’t quite mean it. She loved the farm and she loved the Millers, but, like her mother, she felt her heart was very largely in America. ‘But mostly at South Lodge. I love it so much. Just thinking about it makes me feel – kind of calm. I know my dad loved it, maybe that’s why. It’s the most I’ve got of him.’

‘Yes,’ said Barty, feeling a catch at her heart, ‘it’s the most I’ve got of him too. Apart from you, of course.’

Cathy was staying with the Warwicks: having managed to become Lucy’s best friend, in a performance of such revolting cunning that Jenna had felt quite sick, while forced to admire her tactics. Even Barty had been taken in by it; Jenna had felt tempted to tell her, but then realised it might mean Cathy coming to the farm, and she certainly didn’t want that, having her thrusting her cleavage at Joe and simpering at him across the cow shed. Not that she’d have gone into the cow shed; she might have got her new, pointy-toed shoes dirty.

Jenna had enjoyed the wedding a lot; she had had a lovely time at the lunch, sitting between Lord Arden, who was perfectly sweet, she thought, and Sebastian, who was even nicer. They both kept telling her it must be very boring for her sitting next to two old men, but she assured them she was enjoying it. It was true; she much preferred talking to Sebastian about his books and Lord Arden about his own farm, to putting up with Fergal’s awful flirting. She really couldn’t imagine how Cathy could like him. She was disappointed not to be sitting next to Lucas again; but she still had fun.

Anyway, she was off in the morning, for three wonderful days; it would be just – just perfect.

The wedding had gone off pretty well, everyone seemed very pleased. Jenna liked Kit, and Clementine even more. She thought it terribly romantic and brave of her to marry someone blind. She must love him very much.

Of course there had been the fuss about Adele, who’d been taken ill, apparently, and now was in some sort of hospital, but she was all right; Venetia had had to miss the wedding lunch, which was a shame, but she had arrived at the end, looking a bit tearful, to wave the couple off and had said Adele was in good hands.

Poor Izzie had been very upset by it all; she had come back to the wedding halfway through the meal, looking very subdued, but bringing little Clio, also rather pale, but much more cheerful; she said she had spoken to her father and he was coming to see her very soon.

‘And I can go and see him in America, he says,’ she said to Jenna, to whom she had taken rather a fancy.

‘That’s good. You can both come and stay with us at our house by the sea. I like your daddy, he’s great. I’ll take you out in my boat.’

‘Have you got a boat?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Jenna airily.

She had asked her mother what had been wrong with Izzie, but her mother had said it was very complicated, and she couldn’t really explain. Grown-ups always said that when what they meant was you were too young to be told about it; she decided to ask Noni, beautiful Noni who talked all the time and wore false eyelashes. She had promised to give Jenna a pair and show her how to put them on; maybe she could talk to her then. But when she asked her about Izzie, Noni said she had no idea, she supposed it had been horrid for her, finding Adele so ill and that she must ask Izzie herself.

Jenna decided that it would have to wait for a while. She found herself missing Charlie, and kept thinking how much he would have enjoyed the wedding; she told her mother who smiled at her rather vaguely.

‘You must be missing him.’

‘Yes, of course I am.’

‘Is he all right? Have you heard from him?’

‘No. America is a long way away, phone calls are terribly expensive. But I will ring, just to see how Cathy’s grandmother is.’

‘Give him my love, won’t you?’

Her mother said, as she often did, that she was glad Jenna liked Charlie so much and changed the subject, told her they must go to Lillywhites that day and buy her some jodhpurs and some riding boots for her visit to the farm. ‘And a hat. Just in case you fall off again.’

‘I won’t,’ said Jenna loftily.

Izzie wished she was allowed to go and see Adele, but she wasn’t. She had to be kept absolutely quiet, she was allowed no visitors except Venetia. But at least she was alive.

It had been one of the most dreadful moments of her life, finding her already half asleep, the pile of pills at her side, the half-empty bottle of champagne held in her thin hand, spilling on to the bedspread.

Izzie had told Clio to go to her room, to find one of her dolls and dress it ready for the wedding lunch, while she made Mummy more comfortable, she obviously wanted a little sleep, ‘and then I’ll try to telephone your daddy, I’ll call you if I get to speak to him.’

To her surprise, Clio trotted obediently off down the corridor. Having established her father was not at the house, looking for her, she had become quite calm and cheerful again.

Izzie began slapping Adele round the face over and over again, trying to make her say how many pills she had actually had, while trying to stab the telephone on her bedside table into life at the same time. It seemed to be dead.

‘Off the hook,’ Adele had said drowsily.

Izzie left her, raced down to the hall, started to ring 999, and then changed her mind and phoned Adele’s own doctor instead. It could be quicker. His number was on the pull-out tray on the telephone, as she had known it would be; everyone kept important numbers there. By some miracle, he was in his surgery and spoke to her.

‘Know how many she’s taken?’

‘She says six, but she’s not making much sense. She’s very confused.’

‘I dare say she is. Now, mix up some mustard in a jug of warm water, about three tablespoons, and try to make her drink it somehow, make her sick. Get her walking about, if you can. I’ll be there in – let me see – less than ten minutes.’

Izzie ran into the kitchen, made up the revolting mixture, grabbed a bowl and a glass, and raced upstairs again. Clio was sitting on the stairs now, singing happily, brushing her doll’s hair; she smiled at Izzie as she passed.

‘We’re nearly ready.’

‘Good.’

Adele was even drowsier, her head lolling about; when Izzie slapped her face again, her eyes rolled upwards.

‘Adele, you’ve got to drink this, absolutely got to. Come on now, please, please, just a bit.’

She wouldn’t swallow it from the glass, so Izzie fetched a big spoon and started tipping it into her; she managed to get a bit of it down her, not nearly enough, she was sure, but then Adele was suddenly sick anyway; Izzie was still cleaning her up, washing her face, trying to get her disgusting dress off, when the doctor arrived.

‘All right,’ he said, sitting down on the bed, feeling for Adele’s pulse, ‘well done. I’ll take over. As you said, she doesn’t seem too bad.’

‘Can I – can I help?’ She hoped not.

‘No, no, you go and look after that dear little thing on the stairs, keep her occupied.’

Gratefully, Izzie did what she was told; five minutes later, Celia and Venetia arrived.

‘Apparently, she’s going to be all right,’ said Celia, coming out of Adele’s room. She looked very shaken. ‘She’s been very sick again, but she seems pretty alert, just horribly upset. Naturally. Poor child. Poor, poor child.’

‘Could I see her? Just for a moment?’

‘Not now. Venetia wants to be with her. The doctor has phoned some nursing homes, is arranging for her to be taken in immediately. Oh, Isabella,’ she sighed; she looked very old suddenly, her face somehow collapsed, ‘what a dreadful thing.’

If only you knew, Izzie thought, just how dreadful a thing it was. And that a lot of it was my fault.

She wasn’t allowed to see Adele; she was carried off on a stretcher, bound for a nursing home in Kensington, Venetia went with her. Celia said firmly they must go back to the wedding reception.

‘We mustn’t spoil Kit’s day more than is necessary, they’ll all be so worried about us. Where’s Clio?’

‘Listening to her own heartbeat through the doctor’s stethoscope. She’s giggling, she seems all right. I’ve promised we’ll phone Geordie later, Barty will have his number. Celia, I must tell you something, something important—’

‘Not now, darling. After the wedding. There’s a time and place for everything.’

Somehow Izzie got through the afternoon, smiling automatically, mouthing platitudes, pretending she was someone she was not, someone nice and kind and good, not an adulteress who had also almost become a murderess. What was she going to do, how was she going to live with herself for the rest of her life? Making someone so unhappy that they had tried to kill themselves. Probably not even Nick would want to know her any more now . . .

Her father had seen there was something very wrong with her; she told him everything as soon as they got home. He was sweetly supportive, although sad that his beloved daughter should have been involved in something so wretched.

‘But I, of all people, have no right to judge you, Izzie. And I blame Geordie far more than I blame you. You must have been so unhappy. I wish I’d known.’

‘So do I,’ she said sombrely, ‘even if only to have one confession off my chest. Oh, Father, how am I ever going to forgive myself?’

‘You must,’ he said. ‘From everything you’ve told me, you were only partly to blame.’

‘I don’t see it that way, I’m afraid. And now I have to go and make another confession. To Celia.’

‘I don’t think she’ll be too hard on you,’ he said, ‘she certainly shouldn’t be.’

Celia’s only rebuke was that Izzie should have told her earlier.

‘You know you can trust me. And I needed to know, Adele being so desperate.’

She seemed more upset about that than anything, said it was a terrible indictment of her as a mother. What about me as a friend, Izzie had wailed.

‘Of course what you did was wrong,’ Celia said. ‘You should have known better. But Geordie is very persuasive and charming and clearly very deceitful as well. I’m very shocked at him, I must say.’

‘No Celia, I can’t let you make excuses for me. I knew what I was doing, I knew how much it would hurt Adele, I just – just – oh dear.’

She started to cry again; Celia patted her hand.

‘We all do things we regret, Isabella. I certainly have. The only thing, having done them, is to put them behind us, try to make amends, not let them dominate our lives. I’ve learned that much at least. You can’t undo your actions, or your words; you can only try to limit the harm they do. And you did save her life. Don’t forget that.’

‘I wish I could see her.’

‘I think the last thing you should do is rush over to the nursing home and indulge in a lot of emotional outpouring to Adele. She isn’t up to it, and it won’t help at the moment. I would suggest you explain everything you can to Venetia, and leave her to judge when and how to tell Adele. Now, I want to hear about your being in love with one of those charming young men.’

Venetia telephoned her the next day.

‘Hallo, Izzie. I think we should have a little talk. Would you like to meet at Browns for tea?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.’

‘Four o’clock, then. Don’t be late.’

As if she would. She arrived fifteen minutes early and sat waiting for Venetia, as if for her executioner.

‘I thought I should say a few things to you,’ said Venetia, her voice rather stern; she was beginning to sound like Celia, Izzie thought irrelevantly. ‘I’ll pour, shall I? Sugar?’

‘No thank you.’

‘First of all, I wanted to thank you for saving Adele’s life.’

‘I didn’t. Not really. Well – only by accident.’

‘However it was, you did. The doctor said you were marvellous. And for looking after Clio as well. Can’t have been easy. We should have spotted how upset she was, in church, none of us did except you.’

‘Well—’

‘Now don’t get me wrong. I think what you did was appalling, sleeping with Geordie. Really appalling. When Adele had been so good to you. I’ll never understand it. But—’

‘Venetia—’

‘Don’t interrupt, please. Mummy told me what you’d told her. About having no idea Adele was ill, him telling you the marriage was over. And I do know he’s a smooth bastard. He once – ’ she took a cigarette out of her case, and lit it, blew a cloud of smoke into the air ‘ – he once made a pass at me. I’ve never told anyone that. He’s the only man who ever tried to come between us, you know? Unbelievable, isn’t it? My sister’s husband.’

Izzie sat very still, almost afraid to blink.

‘I tried to tell myself it was just because he was drunk and upset about Lucas. But there was no excuse for it. I’m afraid – he’s a bad lot. Not all bad of course, but very, very spoilt and charming and used to getting his own way. Especially with ladies. He’s always been the most popular boy in the school, and that’s very bad for a person. You end up thinking you can have anything, walk on water. Anyway – where was I? Oh yes. The other thing is that Adele has been ill for a long time. Long before Geordie ever went to New York. They’ve been suggesting electric shock treatment, as a matter of fact, for ages.’

‘Oh God,’ said Izzie. ‘How horrible.’

‘Yes. She’s going to have it now, her psychiatrist is very hopeful that it will help. Apparently her problems go right back to the war, to her experiences getting out of France, Luc being shot, never saying goodbye to him, all that sort of thing. She feels terribly guilty about it all. So – yesterday wasn’t really just about you. It really wasn’t and it would be wrong of us to let you think that. She would have tried it anyway, almost certainly, the psychiatrist said. People don’t just decide to do it for one single reason, there are usually several, apparently. Or, of course, a psychiatric condition. He said it was important we all knew that.’ She sighed; she looked exhausted.