The Hidden Years (70 page)

He was shaking her, his fingers pressed against her
windpipe so that even if she had wanted to speak it would have been
impossible.

A red mist filled her vision, darkening the world around
her, so that she felt as though it were covered in blood.

From a distance she could hear Edward's voice, loud and
angry. Her chest felt tight, so tight that she couldn't
breathe… There was an unbearable pain… She could
feel her consciousness receding in ebbing waves despite her attempts to
hang on to it.

She was going to die, she recognised floatingly. She was
going to die but somehow it didn't matter because if she was dead she
would be free of this awful pain, of this inability to breathe.

And then, just as the red mist turned black, she heard
Lewis calling her name, the sound of feet running along the gravel
path, and then blessedly, unbelievably, Edward's fingers were wrenched
away from her throat. She collapsed on to the path, dragging air into
her tortured lungs while above her Lewis was demanding fiercely,
'Chivers, get the doctor… Now, man! Hurry! I ought to kill
you for this,' he told Edward bitterly.

She tried to struggle to her feet, to speak… to
tell him that it wasn't Edward's fault, that he wasn't responsible, but
the words wouldn't come.

In the distance she could hear someone crying and thought
that the tears were her own until she realised it was Edward who sobbed
as helplessly as a child, and as always her fear subsided overtaken by
her pity and her guilt. Poor Edward—it wasn't his fault.

She closed her eyes. She felt so tired. Too tired to do
anything other than lie here on the path.

She was still lying there semi-conscious when Chivers came
hurrying back, panting for breath as he told Lewis, 'The doctor's on
his way… I'd better get the Major inside,' he added gruffly,
avoiding looking at Lewis's set face.

'Yes, get him inside,' Lewis agreed curtly. The sound of
Edward's sobs, the sight of him cringing in his chair like a whipped
child, the knowledge that the man was not really responsible for what
he had done, did nothing to soften his anger against him.

If he hadn't arrived when he had… if he hadn't
decided to ignore Liz's dictate that she did not want to see him again,
Edward would have killed her, he was sure of it. As it was…

He dropped to the path beside her, gently taking her body
in his arms and holding her to him, while he whispered her name over
and over again, tenderly kissing the bruise marks already purpling her
throat.

Dear God, she would have to leave Edward now. The man was
insane—he had to be… To have attacked her like
that.

When Ian Holmes arrived at the house, an ashen-faced
Chivers explained to him what had happened.

'If Mr McLaren hadn't arrived when he did I don't know
what would have happened,' he told Ian. 'I was just showing him out
into the garden. We both saw what was happening…' He
shuddered and Ian patted him gently on the back.

'How is Edward now?' he asked him.

Chivers looked uncomfortably at him.

'The way he always is after one of his attacks,
sir… I've given him two of those special sleeping tablets of
his and put him to bed. He should sleep like a baby for a good twelve
hours now. Always does after…well, afterwards…'

'Right. Where's Liz?'

'She's still out in the garden. Fainted, she
had…'

He stopped speaking as Ian walked past him, hurrying out
into the garden.

He hoped that all she had done was faint, Ian thought
worriedly. From Chivers's description of the way Edward had been
gripping Liz's throat, it was a mercy she was actually still alive.

When Liz opened her eyes she was in Lewis's arms. He was
gazing down at her, and as she looked hazily back at him she thought
that heaven itself must be like this, must feel like this—a
protective haven which she never wanted to leave… but as
awareness returned fully to her she knew that no matter how much she
might ache to stay here, protected from the world by the warmth and
strength of his arms, she could not do so.

She heard footsteps on the gravel and pushed herself away
from him.

'Liz, my dear, are you all right?'

Ian was kneeling on the path beside her, Lewis answering
for her as he said bitingly, 'Of course she's not damned well all
right. That… that… that idiot damn near killed
her.'

'I'm fine, Ian,' Liz told him, smiling shakily at him.

'She's not fine at all,' Lewis contradicted flatly. 'Look
at her, man, look at what he's done to her. Another minute—'

'It was an accident,' Liz protested. 'Edward didn't
mean…' She looked appealingly at Ian but he was shaking his
head.

'I'm sorry, my dear. I know you only want to protect him,
but for his own good I'm afraid we must get him into hospital. These
moods of his…' He shook his head. 'If Mr McLaren hadn't
arrived so fortuitously—'

'He'd have killed her,' Lewis supplied for him.

'No… that's not true,' Liz protested.

'I'm sorry, Liz, but you
must
see we
can't allow you to take any more risks. I know how Edward feels about
taking stronger drugs, but I'm afraid I'm now going to have to insist
that he at least undergoes trials to see if they could help him, and
the best place for that is in the controlled atmosphere of a hospital.
Don't worry about him. You'll be able to visit him as often as you
wish.'

'He'll be so afraid,' Liz protested.

'He's a grown man, my dear,' Ian told her quietly, 'not a
child, and think… At the moment his anger, his bitterness is
focused on
you
, but what if it happened that he
started to focus it on someone else? Chivers, or David—or
even a stranger? You might have the right to take risks with your own
life, but if Edward should injure someone else—kill them,
even—how would you then feel?'

He hated having to be so cruel to her, but it was
necessary, and he could see that the words had hit home from the
whiteness of her face.

'You shouldn't be with me,' Liz told him shakily. 'You
should be with Edward, he needs you more.'

'Chivers has very wisely given Edward a couple of strong
sleeping tablets. Now, let's get you upstairs where I can examine you
properly. If Mr McLaren could carry you…?'

'No.' The sharpness of the way she said it made Ian frown
and hesitate. 'No, it's all right. I can walk,' Liz told them both.

She could, but only just, and she had to lean on Lewis
more than once on her way upstairs to her room.

Once she was there, Ian tactfully but firmly banished
Lewis while he examined her.

Afterwards he sat down on her bed and told her quietly,
'You are very, very lucky to be alive. And Edward is very, very lucky
that it's only hospital he's going to right now and not prison.'

'Lucky… I don't feel it, not with my throat so
sore that I can hardly speak,' Liz told him ruefully, trying to make
light of what had happened.

'Yes, it will be sore,' Ian agreed. 'Liz, you do
understand, don't you, that it is imperative now that we get Edward
into hospital? As his doctor I have to insist, in fact, that we make
immediate arrangements. If I could use your telephone…?'

'But what can you do for him there that can't be done at
home?' Liz protested.

'Many things. For instance we can monitor his responses to
the drug tests much more closely, in much more controlled conditions.
It
is
necessary, Liz, and I'm afraid on this
occasion you must accept my judgement on that. You must see that if I
don't do something now and at some later stage Edward attacks you
again, or someone else, I would virtually be to blame… I
don't want your death on my conscience.

'Now, you try to get some rest. I'm going downstairs to
ring the hospital and organise a bed for Edward. I'll go with him and
see him settled in, and I promise you that just as soon as he wakes up
I'll be there to explain to him what's happening.'

He saw that she was trying to speak and shook his head.

'No. You must rest that throat of yours, and anyway I know
what you're going to say.
You
want to be there.
Well, for once Edward is going to have to do without you, and I promise
you when you wake up tomorrow morning that throat of yours is going to
be so stiff and sore that you'll be glad I'm insisting on your staying
in bed. In fact, if necessary, I'll tell Chivers he has to lock you in
here and remove the key,' he warned her, smiling at her as he got up
and walked over to the door.

Downstairs he found Lewis pacing the library floor waiting
for him. 'What's happening? How is she?' he burst out as Ian walked in.

'Her throat is very badly bruised and she's shocked, of
course, but there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage.'

'No permanent damage…' He wheeled and stared
blindly out of the window, his voice shaking as he demanded, 'Do you
know what he was trying to do to her? He was trying to
kill
her.'

'Yes. Yes, I do know,' Ian agreed quietly.

There was another silence and still Lewis couldn't bring
himself to turn round and look at the other man in case he read his
feelings in his eyes; for Liz's sake he couldn't allow those feelings
to be seen, no matter how much he might want to stand on the highest
hill he could find and shout his love for her to the world.

'Then why in God's name does she stay with him?
Why
?'

He couldn't keep the words back nor the pain out of his
voice. Ian watched him for a moment and asked him quietly, 'How much do
you know about them… about Liz herself and her relationship
with Edward?'

He could see Lewis's back stiffening.

'In many ways I agree with you, but I know Liz. She'll
never leave him.'

'But why?
Why
?'

'Because he needs her,' Ian told him gently.

'Does he? It didn't look like it when I saw him
today— he was trying to kill her.'

'Yes, I know. Look, come and sit down and I'll try to
explain.'

Unwillingly Lewis did as he asked. He still hadn't got
over the shock of discovering Edward with his hands wrapped round Liz's
throat, his eyes bulging with maniacal hatred as he tried to squeeze
the life out of her.

'Edward loves Liz. He's also paranoically jealous of
her—and of any man she comes into contact with,' he added
warningly. 'He's obsessed with the fear that he's going to lose her, a
fear that's exacerbated by the frustration of the desire he feels for
her but can never physically express. He is mortally afraid of losing
her to another man, a man who could be a husband and a lover to her in
all the ways that he cannot.'

Slowly Lewis stared at Ian, the colour receding from his
skin as he said, 'But they have a child—a son…'

The pain in his voice made Ian wince. Perhaps he had said
too much, but it was too late for him to stop now. '
Liz
has a son,' he corrected him. 'I shouldn't be telling you any of this
and I don't know really why I am, except that I happen to think a great
deal of Liz and I just wish…' He stopped and sighed. Quite
what he wished for Liz he wasn't sure. That she could find fulfilment
as a woman; that she could be relieved of believing that the burden of
a lack of sexual responsiveness to Kit Danvers was hers when he was
pretty sure it belonged on Kit's own shoulders… So what was
he trying to do? Push Liz into the arms of this man who so plainly
wanted her?

'It isn't my place to tell you any more,' he said slowly.
'I'm going to ring the hospital now and arrange for an ambulance to
come and collect Edward. I want him to go into hospital for a few days
so that we can run some tests on him with a new drug that I'm hoping
we'll be able to use to control these violent depressions he's been
getting. It isn't easy for him either, you know,' he told Lewis. 'He
loves
her.'

'He would have killed her,' Lewis told him tiredly,
repeating, as though he could hardly believe it himself, 'He would have
killed
her.'

'But fortunately he didn't,' Ian returned. 'I've given
Chivers instructions to make a cup of tea into which he's going to slip
a sleeping powder. If I know Liz she'll refuse to take anything I
prescribe, but she needs to sleep, to give her body time to heal.'

While Ian was making arrangements for the ambulance to
come and collect Edward, Lewis walked out into the garden, his
footsteps automatically taking him to the beginning of the walk between
the double borders. At the top of it he stopped and stared down it, his
throat going dry with tension and fear as he remembered how he had
stood there and seen Liz—his Liz—and that fiend of
a husband of hers with his hands round her throat…

He started to shake; to feel sick with rage and love. The
stones on the path were scattered unevenly where she had fallen. If he
had only been seconds later… Was this fate's way of
punishing him? First his wife and his child, now Liz… What
had he ever done to warrant such pain? He had married Elaine in good
faith, believing it was what she wanted, believing they would be happy
together. He had intended to make her a good and faithful husband, a
good father to their children even if he had not loved her, at least
not as a woman… Had there been signs he had missed, warnings
he should have picked up but which he had been too busy running the
station to notice? Had she made silent cries for help which he had
ignored? How many times had he asked himself these questions? How many
times during the dark, lonely hours of the night had he longed to turn
back time, to save her and their child?

When he had come to England there had been no purpose to
his life, only a vast, wasting emptiness. And then he had met Liz and
everything had changed.

'I can't,' she had told him. 'I can't leave Edward.' But
surely now…?