Ivory Innocence (14 page)

Exhausted after sleepless nights and the morning's traumas, she fell into a troubled sleep. Hours later, she awoke with a head that felt like lead and limbs that ached. Rain still dripped down the window and the light was gray, but her watch told her it was late afternoon. Time to be thinking about making something for dinner, something special that would celebrate, if that was the word, the consummation of their marriage. Despite his harshness, she remembered the way he had made her feel earlier. When she thought of the coming night, the same fire ran through her veins. Perhaps she could make him forget his first wife.

On the table in the kitchen there was a jewelry box, and a note. She opened the box first and was thrilled by the sight of an emerald pendant that matched her engagement ring. Thinking that Matthew had repented his harshness, she snatched up the note and opened it, seeing the slashing black handwriting that typified him. It said, "Telegram from Harry Drummond. Urgent business. Will walk down to Beck Farm for a lift. Keys for the Hall are in the car, if you want to go home. Sorry. Matthew."

Ivory read it three times before the truth sank into her stunned mind. He had gone. Just like that. That casual "Sorry" was like a blow across the face. And the pendant, what was that—a bribe to keep her sweet, or a reward for services rendered? How dare he walk out and leave her?

She shut the jewelry box and tossed it into the nearest drawer, slamming the drawer so hard that it shook. She ran up to the smaller bedroom and found all his clothes gone, and his suitcase. Not a trace of him remained in the cottage. He had packed his things, and gone, without even bothering to wake her to explain.

She sank down onto the settee where only a few hours before she had been taught what physical love could be like. Physical it had been, and only that, for him—and perhaps for her, too. Perhaps he had been right when he said she had simply enjoyed his lovemaking. She couldn't believe she would be stupid enough to fall in love with a man as heartless as Matthew Kendrake.

Having endured one restless, lonely night in the cottage, she packed her belongings into the Mercedes and drove down to Beck Farm to inform the Wheelers that she was leaving. Mrs. Wheeler seemed most concerned at the abrupt ending to the honeymoon. She said that Matthew had seemed distracted the previous afternoon, but her husband had driven him to the station to catch a train for London and she hoped it wouldn't be too long before Ivory and her husband returned to the cottage.

Driving the Mercedes was easy once she accustomed herself to the controls. It had automatic gears and traveled effortlessly along country roads and highways, giving her plenty of time to muse over Kendrake callousness. For a while she had allowed her relationship with Matthew and Janey to distract her from her original intention, but now she was determined to fulfill the vow she had made to herself: not just to regain the Hall, since she was already its mistress, but to find out the truth so that she could prove to Matthew that his "good old Uncle George" had been little better than a thief.

By mid-afternoon she was driving through the gates and up through the trees toward Hedley Hall. She would be alone there, with the Barneses off on a well-earned holiday and Janey at Top Farm, but for the moment she preferred it that way. There were things she had to do.

She installed herself in the master suite, which had its own sumptuous bathroom and dressing room with fitted wardrobes and drawer units. The bedroom was spacious, decorated in autumnal shades of brown and tan with splashes of orange. This is your home, Ivory told herself. Meldrums belong here. You're mistress of Hedley Hall.

Having stopped to buy essential provisions on her journey, she soon made herself a meal and had the washing machine churning merrily in the utility room. But her mind was on the study, which remained locked as it always was unless Matthew was working in there. She had a feeling it might contain clues that would help in her search for the truth.

Presumably Mrs. Barnes had a key, since she must clean the study. But Ivory could not find the housekeeper's keys; the Barneses' flat was securely locked. Telling herself that she had every right to look through her own husband's belongings, she returned to the master suite and made a systematic search of the dressing room. Eventually she found what she was looking for: a small bunch of keys, casually tossed into a handkerchief drawer.

As she went down the stairs, she began to feel uneasy. Matthew might be angry if he knew she was using his absence to spy on him. Except that she wasn't spying on him, not exactly; it was his uncle's activities that interested her. She promised herself she would not pry into anything unless it had some connection with George Kendrake.

The study was tidy; the big desk held only a blotter, a tray for pens, and a telephone. Ivory walked round the room, breathing in the scent of wax polish and old books. One wall was filled entirely with bookshelves on which a variety of volumes rested. There was a swivel chair behind the desk, a row of filing cabinets, and near the window, a leather couch stood by a low table. Outside, the trees stirred in the evening breeze.

Looking at the bunch of keys in her hand, she tried some of them in the lock of the filing cabinet. But access to it only showed her copy files connected with Matthew's business interests, particularly Kendrake Enterprises, of which he was chairman. The letter heading named Harry Drummond as managing director, which was interesting information but not what she was looking for.

She turned to the desk and stood for a moment frowning over the doodles on the blotter: flowers, trees, and one tiny sketch that looked like Janey. She had not suspected that her husband had a talent for art. But when she unlocked the drawers, her search proved fruitless. There was nothing that had any connection with George Kendrake.

Sighing, Ivory locked the desk. Perhaps there was no evidence left. It was, after all, forty years since her grandfather had had to sell the Hall.

As she turned to the door, she noticed a framed photograph on the wall. It was a picture of her grandparents in their youth, standing on the steps of the Hall. And behind them, central to the picture, stood the tall, slender figure of George Kendrake. He appeared to be hovering like a vulture over the innocent, youthful pair in front of him. It took all Ivory's willpower not to tear the photograph from the frame and destroy it. Her grandmother's words repeated in her head: "He pretended to be our friend, but all the time he was plotting to ruin your grandfather and take the Hall."

It was for her gentle grandfather's sake that Ivory wanted to discover exactly how the villainy had been perpetrated. John Meldrum's best friend had betrayed him, leaving him nothing, not even his pride.

And now another Meldrum had walked into the same trap, she thought with despair. She had come with vengeance in her heart, but Matthew had somehow made her quest seem less and less important. Why had she been fool enough to marry him?

She jumped and clutched at her throat as the phone rang from the Hall, its shrill ring echoing through the empty house. Wondering who could be calling when no one knew she was there, Ivory stared at the study door. The phone rang on and on, jangling along her nerves, until it occurred to her that the caller might be Matthew, with news of his return. She wrenched open the door and started out into the hall. But as she reached the phone, its ringing stopped.

Disappointment swept through her, and she realized how much she longed for the sound of his voice. She despaired of herself for wanting him so badly when she knew he was cold and unfeeling. But she knew that if he walked into the house at that moment, she would forgive him for everything.

The next morning, she breakfasted in the kitchen, missing Janey's bright inquisitiveness. Her stepdaughter ought to know she was home, so she decided to walk up to Top Farm to see the Garths before making a foray to the Home Farm, to the estate manager's office. It was possible that Angus Firth might have records going back for forty years.

It was a brisk, windy day with fluffy white clouds sailing across the sky. Alternate sunshine and shadow chased across the land. Ivory enjoyed her walk to the farm. It put color in her cheeks and made her eyes shine despite her restless night.

She was about to knock on the back door of Top Farm when Rob's voice said from behind her, "What are you doing back so soon?"

"My husband," Ivory said levelly, turning to face him, "was called away on urgent business, so I came home. Where's Janey?"

"Gone into town with Mum and Becky." He strolled toward her, the wind lifting a curly strand of fair hair as his glance took in her casual attire and her taut expression. "What's wrong, Ivory? Isn't it working out?"

"It's perfectly fine," she lied. "I'm annoyed that he rushed away, but then who wouldn't be? I expect it was some crisis they couldn't handle without him. My husband's quite a whiz kid, you know."

"Didn't he tell you what it was?" Rob asked.

"No. Actually I was asleep. A telegram came and he just left me a brief note. So I drove home alone yesterday."

"Oh, he did leave you the car?"

"Yes. Kind of him, wasn't it?"

Rob stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overalls, looking at her thoughtfully. "What did you marry him for, Ivory? I thought you must be in love with him, but I had doubts at the wedding. Has he got some hold on you?"

"I don't know what you mean," she snapped. The only "hold" Matthew had was one of the senses: a touch from him, even a glance from those blue eyes, could melt her. And of course there was Janey.

"You're not, er…" He looked her up and down, gauging the slenderness of her waist with speculative eyes.

Ivory's face flamed. "No, I'm not pregnant! What do you take me for? What's between him and me is our business, Rob. I only came to see Janey. I'll come back later and take her home. She might as well be with me."

"You know what Mum thinks, don't you?" Rob said.

"About what?"

"About your reasons for marrying Kendrake. She says you did it because he's rich and can give you all the things your grandmother made you feel you were entitled to."

Ivory's face paled with shock. Such a thought had never crossed her mind. Impulsively she laid a hand on Rob's arm. "You don't believe that, do you? Rob, it isn't like that. Oh, it's true he's able to give me material things, but I had quite a substantial legacy from my father, you know. I didn't marry Matthew just because—"

"Then why did you do it? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you love him?"

"I—I'm not sure," she said, unable to lie to him. "He's a complicated man, Rob. He's badly hurt and that makes him hard, at times. But I believe I can help him, if I try hard enough. And for Janey's sake…"

"Yes, I had a feeling it would be Janey," Rob said quietly. "I've always known there was a soft streak in you for motherless kids. It comes from being an orphan yourself. But it's no good reason for staying with a man you don't love." He laid his hands on her shoulders, pleading with her. "Leave him, Ivory. You can stay here until you decide what to do, but please don't stay with him any longer. You can't feel anything for a man like that. He's a human tiger. He'll eat you alive. I could see at that farce of a reception that you were afraid of him."

"I'm not!" she denied, startled that he could read her so accurately. "I can't just walk out. After a week? What would it do to Janey?"

"What will it do to you?" Rob returned.

She shrugged free of his hands and half turned away, holding a head that was suddenly throbbing. "It doesn't matter about me. Janey's the important one. To both of us. Rob—" Somehow she had to get him off this dangerous subject before she broke down and told him the truth, the shaming truth that she was sexually enslaved to a man she didn't even like, except the few times when she was allowed a glimpse behind his hard exterior. "Listen, Rob, I'm on my way to see Mr. Firth, the estate manager. You remember what happened forty years ago, how George Kendrake robbed my grandfather?"

Worriedly, Rob nodded. "I've heard the tale. What about it?"

"I'm going to see if I can find some concrete evidence to prove it. I feel I owe it to my grandparents to find out the truth. I'm not sure what I can do about it, but even so—"

"You must be mad!" Rob interrupted. "Why rake up ancient history? You wouldn't be able to do anything about it. What would you do, sue your own husband in the courts for something his uncle did? Take the Hall away from him?"

"I have a right to know the truth!" Ivory exclaimed. "Just to set the record straight, that's all. My grandmother was never clear about the details. I've got to know what really happened."

"And what do you expect to find, a signed confession? There won't be any evidence, Ivory. And if there was, what do you want to know for? So that you can tell your children—Kendrake children—about an old feud? Good grief, you're a Kendrake wife. You're mistress of the Hall. I'll bet your grandmother's jumping up and down with excitement. You've already set matters right, haven't you? You married George Kendrake's heir!"

Stunned, Ivory backed away. "Don't talk about my grandmother that way! She was a wonderful woman. She always did her best for me."

"She taught you to think yourself a cut above the rest of us," Rob retorted. "She filled your head with her own prejudices. Who knows what the truth really is? You'd best leave it alone, Ivory."

She could hardly believe that Rob, her oldest and dearest friend, had turned against her. Muttering something about coming back for Janey later, she swung away and marched back up the track, the wind tossing her pale hair.

Instead of making for Home Farm, she returned to the Hall, her thoughts in turmoil. Rob's casual remark about children—Kendrake children—had stupefied her. It had never occurred to her there might be children other than Janey. But suppose there were? They would be Kendrakes, great-nieces and -nephews of the nefarious George. Kendrake children: hers and Matthew's.

Curled on the huge bed in the master suite, Ivory found herself facing the reality of the situation into which she had plunged herself. So far she had been borne along by the memory of her grandmother's teaching, but now it was as though a window had been opened in her mind. There was no way of taking revenge. George Kendrake was dead; her grandparents were dead. No action of hers could alter their lives. Rob was right—even if she found proof, what could she do but anger Matthew? Her quest would drive the wedge deeper between them, when in her heart she knew she wanted to close the gap, not widen it.