Past All Forgetting (12 page)

'Oh, Mother!' Janna leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. 'For a start, no one really knows whether Fleur is illegitimate or not, except possibly Mrs Parsons, and I know that she hasn't told Beth or her mother. I don't even know.'

'Rian has frankly admitted it,' her mother said with some bitterness. 'Apparently Beth met him in the market square the day before she went to London, and was asking him about the little girl. Then she asked him when he would be bringing his wife to Carrisford.'

'Beth would,' Janna muttered.

'That's as maybe. Rian, if you please, replied that he was unable to do so, because he wasn't married and never had been.'

An unwilling laugh broke from Janna. 'I'd give something to have seen her face,' she said. 'Is it too much to hope that her mother was with her at the time?'

'Don't be flippant,' her mother said tartly. 'My sympathy, of course, is for that innocent child.'

'I think you're wasting it,' Janna told her ruefully. 'She seems incredibly self-sufficient—bright, too. In terms of age, she really ought not to be in my class at all, but I know she won't have any trouble in keeping up with them.' She glanced at her mother and saw she was wearing that preoccupied look again. 'You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?'

Her mother started visibly. 'I'm sorry, dear. I was just thinking, that's all.'

'About what? You look very solemn.'

Her mother gave her a clear-eyed look. 'That I'm very glad you're safely engaged to Colin. I'm not blind, Janna. I knew all about that crush you had on Rian years ago. I was so worried for you, and never more thankful than when he went away as he did.'

Janna sat very still. 'And yet you never said anything— until now,' she said slowly.

'I never knew quite what to say,' her mother admitted. 'I was afraid that we might quarrel about it, and that I might drive you away. Girls of that age are so strange and touchy sometimes. Then it all seemed to resolve itself, and you suddenly became so much more mature, so I felt I didn't need to mention it after that.' She paused. 'After Deirdre had gone this afternoon, I realised how unsettled you had been this week—all that talk about doubts, and I felt so frightened. Don't do anything foolish, Janna, I beg of you. He—he's too old for you. He was old the day he was born, I think. And deep.' She shook heir head. 'People like him alarm me. I want you to be happy, dear, and know peace. The Rian Tempests of this world thrive on conflict and upheaval. He couldn't do that job of his otherwise.'

Janna gave her a long, quiet look. 'I never realised you disliked him so much,' she said wryly.

Mrs Prentiss sighed again. 'I don't dislike him, Janna. I've told you—he frightens me. I can't fell at ease with him. I was never at ease all that summer when he was home for the last time. I was so anxious for you, although your father always said that he would never overstep the mark. It was such a relief when he went away like that. I can't help thinking of this other poor girl—the mother of his baby— and thinking that it might have been you.'

Janna shook her head gently. 'No, Mother,' she said. 'That would have been quite impossible.'

Her mother drew a quick, relieved breath. 'I'm so glad,' she said simply. 'It—it isn't easy to bring up a daughter, as you'll find out one day. There are so many times that you want to pry and you daren't, because you have to respect her privacy. But I can tell you this now, Janna. I'm thankful that you can go to Colin with your head high and nothing to reproach yourself with.'

Janna got to her feet, very pale but with a spot of colour burning in each cheek. 'Colin is equally thankful,' she said. 'You and he seem to think alike on a lot of points. But I don't share your satisfaction, I'm afraid. I may not have slept with Rian Tempest, but I have plenty to reproach myself with just the same—perhaps the very fact that I didn't, sleep with him, for one thing.'

'Janna!' Mrs Prentiss looked up at her, appalled. 'You don't know what you're saying.'

Janna shrugged as she turned to the door. 'If it comforts you to think that, Mother, then do so. It seems to make plenty of sense to me. Excuse me now, please. I have some marking to do before tea.'

Safely in her room, she sank limply down on to her bed, staring with unseeing eyes at the cheerful flowered pattern on the wallpaper. So her mother had known about her pursuit of Rian, and had secretly agonised over it.

Perhaps, after all, she could have told her mother about that night at the party and its aftermath, and not had to carry its burden in solitary guilt all these years. Her mother might have understood—then. Yet Janna had deliberately lied to Colonel and Mrs Tempest mainly to protect her mother from the heartache of finding out about her wanton behaviour. Now it seemed as if that tragic lie had all been to no purpose.

She gave a long trembling sigh, and ran her fingers through her hair tangling
it
. She had protected no one, she thought bitterly. All she had done was delay the day of reckoning for seven years. But there would be no escape for her a second time.

There was snow on the surrounding hills at the end of the second week, and the first wave of winter coughs and colds had hit the school, exacerbated by the damp chill of the weather.

Janna was not surprised to find that Fleur was among the first crop of casualties. The child had bones like a bird's, and was underweight, though not drastically so, for her age. When a week passed, and Fleur had still not returned to school, she became concerned, particularly as most of the invalids had returned, most of them carrying bottles of medicine and plastic spoons. Janna was adept at administering doses of the various syrups, and resigned that her classroom often had the smell and appearance of a dispensary.

She was using one wet lunch hour to change the wall-display, when Mrs Parsons came in. After helping her fix the remaining section of the frieze and commenting favourably on the work that had gone into it, the headmistress came to the point.

'Mr Tempest has phoned me to say that the doctor won't allow Fleur back to school for at least another week,' she announced. 'He says the child is fretting because she feels she will fall behind in her work, and I was wondering if you could take some work round for her to do.'

It was the most normal of requests, and as the seconds ticked past and she stood immobile, Janna knew that Mrs Parsons was watching her in increasing perplexity.

'Is there some problem?' she asked at last, her brows
raised. '

Janna moistened her lips. 'None at all. I-I'd be happy to take some books round for her. Is she—are they staying at the White Hart still?'

Mrs Parsons looked' even more astonished. 'Mr Tempest has moved into Carrisbeck House. I thought you knew that.'

Janna's sense of shock deepened. 'No, I had no idea. That's very quick, isn't it? I thought there would be all sorts of preliminaries to go through—contracts to sign.'

Mrs Parsons shrugged. 'Presumably all this has been dealt with,' she commented indifferently. 'In any case, it isn't really any of our business. So, if you could work out something for Fleur—not too arduous, of course—I'd be grateful. Apparently she has some sort of chest weakness. I'm afraid she may find this winter very trying until she becomes acclimatised.'

Janna had by no means finished her display, but when Mrs Parsons had departed, she swept, the remaining items back into their folder and sat down at her desk. She was so accustomed to preparing home lessons for children who were to be absent for any length of time that this request should not have come as any great surprise. It was part of her job, she told herself insistently, and she could not avoid it simply because it would mean her being forced to make contact once again with Rian Tempest. She had taken such care to keep but of his way up to now, making minor alterations each day in the time she arrived at the school, and left in the evening, and it had been wholly successful. She had neither heard from him, nor set eyes on him, although she knew from casual gossip in the staff room that he brought Fleur to school each day and fetched her in the evenings.

There were times when she had even felt optimistically that perhaps he would never follow up his threats. Maybe he ;felt that his mere presence in Carrisford, and his occupation of the house that had been intended as her future home were punishment enough.

But now she felt that she had been too hopeful, and even an innocent occurrence like a child's illness was part of the web in which she was inextricably entangled.

She got up with a deep sigh,, and began to look out some books for Fleur, slipping a set of work sheets into a gaily coloured folder with the child's name on it, and adding some simple puzzles and crosswords of her own devising as light relief.

In spite of the fact that she had a genuine reason for being there, her heart was thumping as she walked up the drive towards Carrisbeck House after school that day. There were some lights on in the house to combat the fast-gathering darkness outside, and Janna thought with a pang, as she had always thought, what a gracious old house it was and what a welcoming appearance it presented. But she must stop herself thinking along those lines, she told herself wistfully. The house was not for her, and she was deluding herself if she imagined it had a welcome for her.

After a momentary hesitation, she rang the bell. She would have given a great deal merely to dump the books she had brought on the step and leave, but she had also brought a load of get-well cards that the children had made for Fleur and she knew that any such action on her part would be inexcusable.

The front door swung open and Rian stood, looking down at her.

'Can I help you?' His brows rose interrogatively—as if she was trying to sell him something at the door, she thought furiously.

She looked back at him defiantly. 'I would like to see Fleur, if I may.'

'Of course.' He stood back so that she could precede him into the hall. 1 hadn't realised that the school provided quite so speedy a service. You didn't have to rush round here immediately, you know.'

She shrugged. 'It won't help Fleur's convalescence if she's bored. I would do the same for any child.'

'What dedication,' he said sarcastically. 'Do you mind if I don't come up with you? I'm making soup and it's reached a rather critical stage. Fleur is in my old room. I'm sure you can remember your way.'

He turned away and Janna began to climb the stairs alone. Stripped of the dark red Turkey carpet she remembered, they had a forlorn look. In fact the whole house seemed forlorn with its bare floors and windows and unshaded lightbulbs.

She had to summon up all her courage to enter the bedroom. Somehow, foolishly, she had expected it to look just the same. But of course, it was now as sparsely furnished as the rest of the house. There was a small single divan bed, where Fleur lay propped up by pillows, a chest of drawers, a wooden chair painted white, and a small twisted pile rug beside the bed, and that was all. No concessions had been made to the fact that this was a little girl's room at all, Janna thought, staring around her. She walked over to the bed with an encouraging smile and drew up the chair.