Marriage at a Distance (11 page)

‘Practical indeed,’ she agreed expressionlessly.

And also bloody impossible, she wanted to scream at him. Because I wouldn’t touch Paul Gordon if he were the last man on earth—even before he let the mask slip.

Because the only man I want to father my child is right here in front of me now, God help me.

Aloud, she said, ‘Then perhaps you’d allow me a favour in return.’

‘If it’s possible. What do you want?’

I want you, she thought. Now, and for all eternity.

She said, ‘I’d like to take Minnie with me, when I go.’ She paused. ‘And I want you to sell me Nutkin. I gather from Sadie you’re not going to keep him yourself.’

Gabriel’s brows lifted in undisguised surprise. ‘You’re going to have your own stable?’

‘Eventually.’ She nodded. ‘And in the meantime I can keep them at a livery.’

He said drily, ‘You seem to have it all worked out.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Of course you can have Minnie, but I’m not sure about Nutkin. He’s not easy to manage—even for me.’

‘Nevertheless, I’d like to try. I think we belong together, Nutkin and I.’

His mouth twisted. ‘I’d like to know what you base that on.’

Both of us outsiders. Neither of us wanted around any more.

Aloud, she said, ‘Instinct, I suppose.’

‘That’s not enough. You’d need to prove to me you could handle him.’

‘Are you saying I don’t ride well enough?’

‘On the contrary,’ he drawled. ‘You had an excellent teacher.’

‘Yes,’ she said, deliberately misinterpreting his words. ‘Lionel had endless patience.’

He winced elaborately. ‘What ingratitude. And hardly the way to gain a favour.’

She shrugged. ‘I haven’t agreed to yours yet, either.’

Something came and went in his face. For a moment the atmosphere shimmered with tension. But tension laced with some other element, which Joanna sensed but could not analyse. The horses felt it too, and began to move uneasily.

Joanna watched Gabriel quieten Nutkin with effortless assurance. Horses had always been such an important part of his life, she thought desolately. How could he contemplate a life without them in London? Did he really believe Cynthia was worth this kind of sea change in his existence?

Across the space that divided them, their eyes met. He said quietly, ‘But I hope you will.’

‘
Quid pro quo
, Gabriel. One good turn deserves another.’

His smile was wintry. ‘I’m not sure I’d describe Nutkin as a good turn. But if you show me you can ride him, then I’ll give him to you.’

‘I said I’d buy him,’ she reminded him.

‘We’ve settled the broad basis for our separation,’ he said wearily. ‘For God’s sake, let’s not fight over trivial details. I’ve given you little enough during our ill-starred relationship. Just take the bloody horse, will you?’

‘May I take him now? Prove to you I can stay on him?’

‘It isn’t the right saddle for you.’

‘All the same.’ She tried to smile. ‘I want the deal done—before you change your mind.’

‘It’s not something I make a habit of.’

No? she wanted to scream at him. Then what was last night about?

But that, of course, she could never say.

Instead, ‘I hear you’ve changed your mind about staying at the Manor,’ she said as she slid off Minnie’s back.

Gabriel’s head turned sharply. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

She shrugged. ‘I gather Furnival Hotels are back in the picture.’

‘They’re preparing an offer.’ He turned his attention to the stirrup leathers he was shortening.

She swallowed. ‘Which you mean to accept?’

‘Which I mean to consider.’

‘Oh.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’

‘Why not?’ His tone was matter-of-fact. ‘It’s a valuable piece of real estate.’

‘But it’s your home.’

‘Not for the past two years.’ His gaze rested ironically on her flushed face. ‘And absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.’

‘I—see.’

‘I doubt very much that you do,’ he returned shortly. ‘In any case, it’s none of your business—apart from the sum from the sale that would become due to you under the divorce settlement.’

She gasped. ‘You really think I’d accept—blood money like that?’

‘I suspect that’s something that our respective lawyers will decide.’ His drawl became more pronounced. ‘And it’s hardly blood money. I didn’t kill anyone for it.’

‘But you’re destroying the house. Turning it into something it was never meant to be. Ripping the heart out of a family home and everyone who works for it and supports it.’

‘My God, Joanna,’ he said softly. ‘Such vehemence. Perhaps you should go into politics.’

She said between her teeth, ‘And maybe you should go to hell.’ She put a foot into the stirrup, swung herself onto Nutkin’s back, and took off.

She heard him shout after her, telling her to stop, to wait for him. But she took no notice. Just sat down in the saddle and let the horse run.

She needed to distance herself. To come to terms with the fact that, as he’d said, it was none of her business. No longer her house. No longer her home. Separate ways. Separate lives.

Anyway, it occurred to her that she’d probably already used up any reserves of his goodwill there might be. So what did she have to lose?

Nutkin carried her like a dream, strong, effortless and eager.

‘You and me against the world,’ she shouted into the wind. She tried to laugh, but the laugh cracked in her throat and turned into a sob.

They were nearing the Hermitage. It was time to slow Nutkin and turn for home. She glanced over her shoulder, but Gabriel wasn’t even in sight.

As she turned back again she saw it. Ahead of them. Something white, billowing out on the breeze from between the fallen stones. She knew in the same split second that Nutkin had seen it too. Felt his muscles bunch and heard his frightened squeal as he reared.

And saw the ground coming up to meet her as she fell.

T
HERE
were faces, swimming in and out of her vision. Usually she could put names to them, but not always. There were voices, too, which seemed to come from the bottom of some deep sea. And words that she recognised, like ‘slight concussion’ and ‘nothing broken.’

Which didn’t stop her whole body feeling like one enormous bruise, even against the softness of her bed.

She forced her eyes open, searching for one particular face. Found it stark and grey with shock. She wanted to hold his head between her hands and kiss away the nightmare from his eyes, but she couldn’t. Because he didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t even tell him that she loved him, promise that everything would be all right.

Instead, she heard her own voice, oddly small and strained, say, ‘You mustn’t blame Nutkin. It wasn’t his fault.’

And his bitter response. ‘You could have been killed, Joanna, and all you can think of is that bloody animal.’

The doctor intervened at this point, saying that she needed rest and quiet, and that it might be better to move her to a local nursing home where these could be guaranteed.

‘No,’ Joanna said, with all the force she could summon. ‘No, thank you. I—I want to stay here. I’ll be fine.’

She couldn’t bear to be sent away, even for her own good. As if something—some inner voice—warned that once she left, she would never return. That this would serve as an excuse to distance her for ever.

The faces round the bed retreated. The voices faded and she was alone, cocooned in a soreness that couldn’t even touch the all-encompassing ache in her heart.

She swallowed the painkillers the doctor had left and settled back against her pillows, seeking the promised oblivion.

She dozed eventually, but restlessly, dreaming of pounding hooves, the wind in her face, and that billowing gleam of whiteness which had ended it all with such dramatic suddenness.

White fabric, she thought feverishly, flowing all around her, wrapping itself across her face so that she couldn’t see—so that she couldn’t breathe…

She sat up with a little cry, wincing as her bruises protested at the sudden movement.

What was it? she asked herself. What on earth could it have been?

‘So you’re awake.’ Cynthia spoke from the doorway. She was wearing a woollen suit in deep crimson, the collar and cuffs trimmed with fur, and her lips and nails were painted to match her suit. She looked like some exotic but poisonous flower. ‘I just came to say goodbye. I’m moving into my cottage as from now.’

She surveyed Joanna’s white face and shadowed eyes with undisguised malice. ‘You look like hell, sweetie. And all for nothing. Or did you think Gabriel would be impressed with your dramatic attempt to break your neck?’

Joanna stared at her. She said slowly, ‘Are you implying I came off on purpose? Because it’s not true. Something spooked Nutkin. Something white floating about between the rocks near the Hermitage.’

Cynthia’s lips curled. ‘Another runaway newspaper, perhaps? You have a vivid imagination, my dear. Not that it matters.’ Her laugh jarred tinnily. ‘All you’ve accomplished is to embarrass Gabriel and damage a valuable horse.’

‘Nutkin’s hurt?’ Joanna asked sharply. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

Cynthia shrugged. ‘How should I know? Something to do with one of his legs, I think. Anyway, the vet’s coming later to put the wretched animal out of its misery.’

‘No.’ The word burst out of Joanna. ‘No, he can’t do that. It can’t be that bad.’ She threw back the covers and shuffled painfully to the edge of the bed. ‘I’ve got to see Gabriel—talk to him.’

‘Gabriel’s gone out, my pet. I really don’t think he could bear to stay in the house with you. I’ve never known him so angry.’ She studied an imaginary fleck on one immaculate nail. ‘But I could always give him a message for you when I see him. Naturally he’ll want to make sure that I’m safely settled in.’

Joanna bit her lip. ‘He’ll need to be here when the vet comes. I’ll talk to him then.’

‘Oh, well—if you’re determined to humiliate yourself even further.’ Cynthia shook her head. ‘Poor, confused Joanna. You just don’t know how to give up gracefully.’

She turned and went out of the room. The scent she was wearing remained, hanging heavily in the air, making Joanna feel faintly nauseous.

She limped doggedly into the bathroom and filled the tub, adding a generous handful of herbal bath salts. Getting into the bath wasn’t easy, but the hot water welcomed and soothed her, and gradually her shaking body began to relax.

She dried herself carefully, patting the towel over her bruises, and put on fresh underwear. The first outer garment that came to hand was the green velvet housecoat, which she dropped as if it had suddenly burst into flames. Instead, she chose a simple navy jogging suit. Safe and sexless, she thought, zipping up its tunic top to the throat.

Then she brushed her hair back from her face and secured it at the nape of her neck with an elastic band.

‘The doctor said you had to rest.’ Grace Ashby met her grimly at the foot of the stairs. ‘And I don’t know what Mr Verne will say.’

Joanna’s heart missed a beat. ‘Is he back?’

‘Just this minute. He’s making a phone call before he goes down to the stables. He’s expecting the vet.’

‘Yes—yes, I know.’ Joanna took a deep breath. ‘I—just want a word with him first.’

The study door was ajar, and she could hear no sound of conversation. Joanna pushed the door fully open and went in. Gabriel was standing with his back to her, staring out of the window. He gave the impression of someone who’d been there for an eternity.

As she entered he swung round, and she remembered what Cynthia had said about his anger.

There was a coldness in him which reached out and touched her, freezing her to the bone.

‘You wanted something?’

‘I need to tell you what happened on the hill. Why I fell. Because it wasn’t Nutkin’s fault.’

She paused, searching his face, but it told her nothing. Biting her lip, she ploughed on. ‘He has one fault, but I think I could cure it. He freaks at white fluttering things. And there was something among the fallen stones at the Hermitage. The wind caught it, and blew it towards us, and it frightened him.’

His look was sceptical. ‘What kind of something?’

‘I don’t know. It’s all still confused, but I think it was a piece of material.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he said, his tone a mixture of derision and bitterness. ‘Your loyalty to that bloody horse astounds me. You’ll go to any lengths to make excuses for him.’

‘I’m just protecting my property.’ She straightened aching shoulders. ‘I want you to know the deal still stands—and send the vet away.’

He said roughly, ‘The horse is a rogue, Joanna. I haven’t forgotten what happened to my father. And this morning you could have been killed too. Although it would have been your own fault,’ he added grimly. ‘How dared you go off, hell for leather, like that?’

‘Because I wanted to prove I could ride him. And I did. Nutkin getting spooked again was just unlucky…’

‘Oh, stop it, Joanna.’ His voice bit. ‘I found you, remember, and there was no material blowing in the wind, white or any other damned colour. Just you in a crumpled heap on the ground and that fool of a horse dancing round you.’ He threw back his head and looked at her, his face oddly haggard, a muscle working beside his mouth. ‘I thought you were dead.’

She forced her mouth into a travesty of a smile. ‘Yet here I am—alive and kicking in spite of it all. And begging you to give Nutkin another chance—with me. Please don’t let the vet put him down.’

‘Put him down?’ There was genuine astonishment in his voice. ‘What are you talking about? He’s got a strained tendon, that’s all. I want the vet to take a look at it.’

‘But I thought…’ Joanna began, then stopped. So it had all been just another piece of Cynthia’s malice, she realised bitterly. And not something that Gabriel would want to know about. Eventually, she supposed, he would find out what the woman he loved was really like.

He can’t live in Cloud-Cuckoo-Land for ever, she thought painfully. But he’s not going to hear the truth from me.

‘What did you think?’

She shrugged. ‘I knew you weren’t impressed with him, and I heard he’d been injured, so I put two and two together and made thousands. I’m sorry.’

Gabriel nodded abruptly. ‘I can’t make an immediate decision about our deal. I’m still not happy about it.’ He paused, a small, hard smile playing about his lips. ‘But you make out a good case, Joanna. Maybe it’s a pity I’m not a horse. You might have given me another chance too.’

And he went past her out of the room, leaving her staring after him, one hand pressed to her trembling mouth.

‘You could have been killed,’ Sylvia said reproachfully.

It was the following day, and the older woman had arrived for coffee and ‘a look at the walking wounded’, as she put it.

Joanna sighed. ‘I know. It was a genuinely stupid thing to do, and I’ve no defence.’ She paused. ‘I was just so—needled by everything that I didn’t stop to think. To weigh the consequences.’

‘Well, we’ve all done that,’ Sylvia said comfortably. ‘But not usually on the back of an edgy thoroughbred.’

‘No,’ Joanna admitted. ‘Anyway, it was good of Gabriel to tell you what had happened, and very kind of you to come over.’

‘Nonsense,’ Sylvia said robustly. ‘Naturally, I’m concerned about you both.’ She put down her coffee cup and studied the younger woman with a frown. ‘You’re still very pale. How are you feeling?’

‘Stiff as a board,’ Joanna said with a grimace. ‘But that’s what a close encounter with the hill does for you.’ She hesitated. ‘And it worries me that I can’t remember much between coming off Nutkin and finding myself back here.’

‘What does the doctor say?’

‘To stop worrying and let nature take its course.’ Joanna’s brows drew together. ‘I can remember someone bending over me at some point.’

‘Well, that would be Gabriel, of course.’ Sylvia gazed pensively at her rings. ‘I gather he carried you down here.’

Joanna bit her lip. ‘So I believe,’ she said neutrally. ‘But it isn’t just the accident. I have this feeling that there’s something I should remember—something that’s been said to me since that’s important.’

‘Oh, that’s maddening.’ Sylvia directed a searching look at her. ‘Could it be to do with whatever needled you into your headlong flight? May I know what that was?’

Joanna’s expression was troubled. ‘It’s pretty much an open secret. I’d heard that Gabriel’s planning to sell the Manor to Furnival Hotels.’

‘I think the possibility exists.’ Sylvia nodded. ‘But why should the idea upset you so much?’

Joanna gasped. ‘You—of all people—to ask that.’ She gestured around her. ‘This is his home—his heritage.’

‘It’s certainly a beautiful old house, or Furnivals wouldn’t want it,’ Sylvia said drily. ‘I think Gabriel’s attitude to it is rather more ambivalent.’

‘What do you mean?’

Sylvia considered for a moment. ‘You speak of it as his home. Well, it hasn’t provided much of a home life for him over the past three years—and I’m not apportioning blame here,’ she added quickly. ‘Gabriel’s no angel, and never has been.’

‘Yes, but all that is going to change.’ Joanna’s voice sounded small and suffocated. ‘Once we’re divorced.’

‘Divorce causes a pretty dramatic change in peoples’ lives,’ Sylvia agreed. ‘As to the heritage point— Gabriel has no son to whom he can hand on the estate, nor any likelihood of one.’

Joanna made a business of refilling the coffee cups. ‘But that’s not necessarily true,’ she said with constraint. ‘When he remarries…’

Sylvia shook her head. ‘Not so. He’s entirely ruled out the possibility of having a family. He told me so himself. So you can see why his inheritance no longer has much relevance for him. A home without children becomes simply—a house.’

Joanna mechanically busied herself with the cream jug, her mind whirling.

How could Gabriel possibly have accepted such a drastic denial of a basic human need? she asked herself. Cynthia was still a comparatively young woman—and, anyway, having children in the late thirties, and older, had become a commonplace these days. If there was some physical problem, there was a whole range of treatment for which Gabriel could easily afford to pay.

Or did Cynthia simply not wish to be burdened with the responsibility?

Whatever, it confirmed once more the depth of Gabriel’s feeling for her, if he was prepared to forgo fatherhood for her sake.

She said, half to herself, ‘What a terrible—tragic waste.’

‘I agree,’ Sylvia said levelly. ‘But he’s totally adamant. It grieves me to say it, but I think he can’t get rid of the place quickly enough.’ She paused. ‘I understand that your stepmother has finally moved out?’

‘Yes. She’s now living at Larkspur Cottage.’
And Gabriel didn’t come home last night, indicating that, to all intents and purposes, he’s moved in with her.

‘Well, I hope she proves a more reliable tenant than ours,’ Sylvia said tartly. ‘He’s just given notice, right out of the blue.’ She snorted. ‘Not that Charles and I are sorry. Engaging young men with no visible means of support are not favourites of ours.’

Joanna frowned, glad that the conversation had shifted to a less personal and thus less painful topic.

‘But he’s a writer, isn’t he?’

Sylvia gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘I believe he tells some such story. But his rent is paid by the local social security office. Not that he allows that to cramp his style particularly,’ she added austerely. ‘Crates of wine, and hampers of food from Fortnum’s and Harrods. Nice work if you can get it.’

‘But how can he afford that if he’s unemployed?’

Sylvia’s smile was cynical. ‘We imagined he had someone else to foot his bills.’ She paused. ‘At one point we were afraid it was going to be you.’

‘Because I had dinner with him once?’ Joanna asked. ‘For which he paid—or at least I thought he did.’

‘I expect the cheque is still bouncing.’ Her gaze was shrewd. ‘Not sorry to see him go, I hope, my dear?’