Ivory Innocence (17 page)

"Only if
I
choose to tell him!" She lifted her head, wondering how he could be so dense. But from the expression on his face she knew he had not foreseen the consequences of his innocent revelation. "He was furious. Couldn't you tell he was furious?"

Rob shook his head, propping himself on the table beside her. "He went a bit quiet, but he kept asking questions. Then he thanked me and went off into the woods. Do you want a hanky?"

"I've got one, thank you." She pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve, still damp from earlier tears, and wiped her face dry.

"Vengeance never did anybody any good," Rob said sagely. "George Kendrake's dead, Ivory. You can't undo the past. I tried to tell you that the other day, but you wouldn't listen."

"Oh, Rob!" she sighed. "I did listen. You were right. I'd decided not to say anything, not ever. I knew it would ruin everything. And now it has. Don't you understand: by telling Matthew, you've spoiled every chance of our happiness. Or is that why you did it?"

Avoiding her eyes, he slid off the table and went to pour boiling water into the teapot. "You wouldn't have been happy, anyway."

"And that's why you did this?" Ivory breathed.

His shoulders slumped as he turned toward her. "I didn't think about it at the time. I'm not that clever. Honestly, I—I was just passing the time of day. I don't find it easy, talking to him. We've got nothing in common—except you. So it was a relief to find a subject he seemed to be interested in. It was only afterwards I wondered if… But it can't do any harm. It's not a real sort of marriage. It would be different if you were in love with him."

"Oh, but I am, Rob," she said sadly, a fresh tear running down her cheek. "I love him so much I can hardly bear it, and now he—he thinks I married him just to get the Hall back."

"Isn't that the truth?" he asked, setting the teapot on the table.

Ivory looked at her hands; they were pale and trembling, tearing at her handkerchief. "It was the excuse I gave myself, that, and Janey's security. But now I know that Matthew was my real reason. I've loved him from the start, from that very first day when I could see how vulnerable he was under all that toughness, when he tried so valiantly, so hopelessly, to handle Janey. I've been lying to myself all along. If only he would let me explain…"

"Well, give him a chance. His pride's been dented. But he won't stay angry with you for long. He'd have to be inhuman. Here, have some tea, and then I'll walk you home. If he's really what you want, I hope it all works out."

She ought to have been angry with him, she thought, but he just hadn't understood what he was doing. He had been hurt, too. By coming back to Hedley Magna she had caused nothing but harm, except for Janey. At least Janey still needed her. And Matthew… Matthew had gone to soothe his hurts in the willing arms of Carla Forsythe.

She and Rob walked back through the dusk to the side gate of the Hall almost opposite the cottage, where she turned impulsively in the shadows beneath the trees, bursting out, "Suppose he doesn't come home, Rob? If he stays out all night again, I—I just don't think I could bear it!"

"Hush, love." His arms came round her comfortingly, and she leaned on his broad chest as she might have leaned on a brother. "He'd be a fool to stay away when he's got you waiting for him. Where's he going to go, anyway?"

Somewhere with Carla Forsythe, she thought, biting her lip to stop the words from slipping out. Rob must never know about Matthew and Carla.

"He'll be home," he murmured soothingly, stroking her hair as he pressed her head to his shoulder.

A car swept over the hill, catching them full in its headlights before it rushed past. Ivory pulled away from Rob, watching with thudding heart as the car slowed to turn in at the main gates on the corner below.

"It's Matthew!" she breathed. "Oh, Rob. If he saw us—"

"He must have," Rob said, shaking his head. "And unfortunately, there's no other woman around here with hair the color of yours. Lord, I'm sorry. I seem to have done nothing but complicate matters. Look, maybe I'd better come in with you and we'll explain to him together. I'll tell him you were upset and came to the farm to see Mum, like you used to do in the old days."

"That might not be such a good idea," she said dubiously.

"You forget I've seen him in a temper. I'm not leaving you to face him alone. No, don't argue. Come on."

He took her hand, and Ivory, feeling as though she had no will of her own and didn't care what happened, let him lead her through the gate and along the path.

There was no light on in the hall, but as she felt for the switch the lights blazed out, momentarily blinding her. As she blinked, she heard Matthew say tightly, "If you're coming to tell me you're leaving me, Ivory, you can save your breath. I'll never let you go."

"Oh, look here, Mr. Kendrake," Rob began. "It's not what—"

"Stay out of this!" Matthew snapped, striding to separate Ivory from the farmer, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. "She's my wife. She doesn't need you to protect her from me. Get out of here, Garth, or we'll both be sorry."

"I should never have let her marry you!" Rob exclaimed.

"As I remember," Matthew said coldly, "you weren't given any say in the matter. It was none of your business then and it's even less your business now. Get out of here!"

Rob glanced at Ivory, about to say something, but then he thought better of it and departed. Ivory stood waiting, dismally certain that fate had chosen her as its plaything.

When Matthew turned his blue eyes on her, his contempt struck her like a physical blow. He had been drinking. She could smell the fumes from where she stood.

"I thought you'd gone out with Carla!" she flung at him.

"So you retaliate by running to your boyfriend?" he returned scornfully. "Or should I be more accurate and say your lover? You've been seeing him, haven't you?"

Her eyes grew huge in her white face. "Matthew, no!"

"Don't lie to me! I don't want to hear any more of your lies. God! I always swore it would never happen again, but I walked right into the same old trap. You're just like her—like Andrea. It's not just Rob Garth, is it? You've had Corin here while I was away. Or are you going to deny that, too?"

"Don't be ridiculous! He never—"

"I know what he's like," he cut in roughly, his eyes raking over her. "You weren't fighting him off at the party that night, were you? I thought you were different, Ivory. I really thought you were. Coming here all prim and proper. I even persuaded myself you weren't tempting me, but you were. That first day, when I found you in the pool, you knew exactly what you were doing. And that night, wearing that low-cut dress—you knew then you had me hooked, so you played the waiting game. It was all very clever."

"It wasn't deliberate!" she said desperately.

"That's what
she
said!" He caught her by the arms and swung her against the bannister, holding her there with hands like steel bands around her upper arms. She could smell the whisky strong on his breath, though he wasn't drunk. "She lied to me, too. But I'm not being made a fool of twice. You'll not see Rob Garth again, or Corin Forsythe, if I have to lock you up. You're my wife!"

"That doesn't make me your possession!" Ivory gasped. "You wouldn't dare lock me up in my own house."

His teeth bared in a snarl as he brought his face close to hers. "It isn't your house. It's mine. Mine to do with as I choose. Unless you do as I say, I shall sell it. There's been an American making inquiries about it."

"You can't! You wouldn't!"

With a wordless growl he released her and stepped back, a demonic light in his eyes. "That gets to you, doesn't it? You really care about this house. It's all you do care about, isn't it? For two pins I'd burn the place down. How would you like to watch it go up in flames?"

A wave of nausea made her sway, her sight clouding as she remembered all too vividly how her grandmother had died. She had been plagued by nightmares about fire for months afterwards. And now Matthew was threatening…

Sickly pallor robbed her face of all its color. As she crumpled, Matthew lunged forward to catch her in his arms. He lifted her bodily and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, gently laying her on the bed and bending over her anxiously.

"Ivory? Ivory!"

As she opened her eyes, his face swam into focus. For a moment she wondered where she was. Then the whole awful scene came back to her. She turned her face into the pillow, weeping.

There was silence in the room. She could feel his weight on the bed beside her and sensed his uncertainty, but she no longer cared. If he could believe that she would use her body to ensnare him, if he could believe that she would be unfaithful with two other men so soon after her marriage to him, then let him believe it. He had hurt her too much for her ever to forgive him.

Into the silence came Mrs. Barnes' voice, calling from somewhere along the corridor. "Janey? Janey, where are you?"

"Oh, God!" Matthew breathed, as if he too were at the end of his endurance. He left the bed and threw open the door. "What's wrong, Mrs. Barnes?"

"Oh, Mr. Kendrake," the housekeeper's voice came worriedly. "Janey's not in her room. I came to check because I looked out of my window just now and I thought I saw someone among the trees."

Still feeling dizzy, Ivory made her way to the door and saw Matthew check Janey's room. When he turned, his face was gray beneath its tan.

"You stay here," he ordered Ivory. "Mrs. Barnes, we'll search the house first. If we can't find her, you'll have to go up to Top Farm. She may have gone to find Becky Garth."

Mrs. Barnes ran down the stairs and began looking in all the rooms.

"Matthew," Ivory breathed in horror. "You don't think Janey heard us?"

"I think she very probably did," he said bitterly. "We should have thought of that before we started yelling at each other in the hall. Go and lie down. We'll find her. Don't worry."

It was all very well for him to tell her not to worry, but as Ivory paced the bedroom she was imagining what their quarrel might have done to Janey. The little girl must have seen her world being shattered again, so she had run away, heaven only knew where.

Janey was not in the house. Unable to stay in the bedroom, Ivory went downstairs and saw Matthew set off into the woods while Mrs. Barnes dispatched her husband to Top Farm to alert the Garths. Ivory waited, her nerves in knots. She would never forgive herself if something had happened to Janey.

Mr. Barnes returned with the news that Rob was keeping a watch for the child.

"Should we tell the police?" Mrs. Barnes asked Ivory.

"No, not yet. Matthew may find her, or Rob might. She can't have gone far, can she?"

But Janey was eight years old, alone in the dark countryside, and unhappy. Silently, Ivory prayed that her stepdaughter might be found safe and well. The child had been through enough misery in her short life without being used by fate to punish her father and her new stepmother for their stupid adult quarrels.

When she heard the main door open, she rushed into the hall and stopped dead, gulping down her relief. Matthew had returned. In his arms was Janey, bedraggled and weary, her curly head drooping.

"She's all right," he said in a strangled voice. "Just worn out. She's been crying. Mrs. Barnes, will you warm some milk for her?"

He climbed the stairs. Beside him, Ivory peered at the tear-stained little face nestling into his shoulder. He laid Janey very gently on her bed, stroked her hair and leaned to press his lips to her forehead. Watching through her tears, Ivory thought with amazement, Why, he does love her! Why doesn't he let himself show it?

Janey lifted mournful wet eyes to look at Ivory, holding out her hand. When Ivory sat down on the bed opposite Matthew, the child threw cold arms around her neck.

"You won't leave me, Ivory, will you?" she sobbed. "Oh, please don't leave me!"

"I'll never leave you, Janey," Ivory promised, tears choking her own voice. "Never. Everything's all right."

Tucking the blankets round the child, she glanced at Matthew. Pain shot through her as she saw the anguish in his eyes. But he quickly blanked the expression and got up as Mrs. Barnes came in with the hot milk.

Ivory remained with her stepdaughter, talking quietly and singing lullabies. Gradually Janey calmed down, her eyelids drooping. But even after she was asleep Ivory remained on the bed, still crooning softly so that reassurance should creep into the little girl's dreams.

It was a chastened Ivory who eventually crept away, quietly closing the door of Janey's room before she trailed along to the master suite.

In the dim light she saw Matthew by the window staring out at the dark trees with smoke drifting from a thin cheroot between his fingers. He was still wearing slacks, but he had removed his shirt and put on his silk robe.

"I didn't know you smoked," she said quietly.

"I don't, as a rule," he replied. He turned toward her; the lamplight fell on smooth brown skin beneath the open robe. His face was somber, his eyes veiled by dark lashes. "We're to blame for what happened tonight, Ivory. I can't risk it happening again. Janey has a right to some real security."

"I know that. That's why I'm here."

His smile was cynical. "I almost believe it was partly for Janey that you married me. But it was the house, too. The only way the Meldrums could return to their ancestral home was by your marrying me. Isn't that the way your mind was running?"

"I'm too tired to have another argument, Matthew," she said with a sigh, making for the dressing room.

Out of his sight, she undressed and put on a cotton nightgown, removing her makeup before she returned to the bedroom. Matthew sat brooding in one of the low chairs by the window, the cheroot still trickling smoke toward the ceiling. He watched as she walked across the room and threw back the sheet to climb into the bed.

"Perhaps I should tell you the full truth about Janey," he said in a low voice, the glow from the lamp showing her the frown on his face.

"About her accident, you mean? Mrs. Barnes said—" She stopped herself, fearing that he might be angry if he knew the housekeeper had been gossiping.