The Right Bride? (15 page)

‘This is a good time for them—a happy time. I wouldn’t want anything to spoil that.’

‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘I begin to see. You think to appeal to my sentimental side,
ma belle. Pas de chance
.’

He walked past her, using the remote control to unlock his car.

‘Remy—listen—please.’ She turned desperately. ‘They’ve—
found each other. After all these years. They want to spend the time they have left together.’

‘And your point is?’

‘If there’s a court case over Tom it will force them to take sides. It could ruin their hopes for the future.’ She took a step nearer. ‘Isn’t punishing me enough for you? Do they have to suffer too? Please think about what you’re doing before it’s too late.’

His laugh was harsh. ‘Since when,
madame,
have you cared so much for the feelings—the happiness—of other people?’

Her chin lifted in challenge. ‘And since when have
you
cared so little—Dr de Brizat?’ She paused. ‘If you—leave Tom with me, I swear that you’ll still see him. As often as I can arrange. Once Tante and your grandfather are married, no one will think it strange if I visit Trehel.’

His brows lifted. ‘Occasional visits?’ he questioned jeeringly. ‘More pretence? I don’t think so. But there does not have to be a court case. You may, if you wish, voluntarily grant me custody of my son. A private matter between us, with no vulgar publicity. I might even allow you to visit him sometimes—if I am offered sufficient inducement,’ he added softly.

There was a silence, then Allie said bitterly, ‘I would never have believed you could be so cruel.’

His smile was hard. ‘Everything I know, I learned from you,
ma belle
.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I must go. Let me know if you wish to—negotiate terms.’ He walked across and bent over the buggy, kissing the top of Tom’s head.
‘Au revoir, mon brave.’
He straightened, his eyes meeting hers. ‘When you have a moment, you might teach him to say Papa,’ he told her mockingly.
‘A bientôt, Alys.’

She stood gripping the handle of the buggy, watching him drive away.

That did no good at all, she thought wretchedly. In fact I’ve probably made things a damned sight worse.

She began to make her way back to where her own car was parked, so lost in her unhappy thoughts that she never noticed
the figure standing motionless in the shade of the building. Or realised that Solange Geran’s gaze was following her like a dark, malignant shadow in the sun.

‘Are you really returning to England at the weekend?’ Tante asked sadly. ‘Can I not persuade you to stay for a little longer? Thomas so loves it here,’ she added persuasively. ‘He is a different child since he came. He is walking well, and he talks all the time—although it is not always certain what he is saying, of course. And he laughs and plays, and is not shy with anyone.’

‘He’s been transformed,’ Allie admitted, her eyes travelling to her son, who was chasing a butterfly between intervals of falling over amid squeals of delight. ‘And it’s wonderful. But—the ferry’s all booked.’

She leaned back in her chair, a hand shading her eyes from the sun dappling through the leaves of the tree. ‘Besides, it would be better if I went as planned. I feel that, at the very least, I—I’m something of an embarrassment.’

‘But there is so much still to be resolved,’ her great-aunt protested. ‘How can you leave—feeling as you do for Remy—and not tell him?’

‘Because it wouldn’t be something he wants to hear,’ Allie said tonelessly. ‘Too much has happened that he can’t possibly forgive.’

Tante looked at her gravely. ‘But you have given him a child, Alys.’ She saw Allie’s eyes widen in shock, and nodded. ‘Let us now speak openly,
ma mie,
and forget this myth that Thomas is a child of the Marchingtons. One has only to look at him to know the truth. Ask Madame Drouac, if you do not believe me,’ she added drily. ‘And Remy has a right to know this.’

Allie bent her head. She said in a low voice, ‘He knows already. He came here unexpectedly a few days ago and—saw Tom.’

Tante gasped. ‘Remy was here?’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘But why?’

‘I don’t know. He simply—arrived.’

‘
Mon Dieu.
And you said nothing?’

‘I didn’t know how to tell you.’ Allie shuddered. ‘It was a nightmare. We—quarrelled terribly, because I’d kept the baby’s existence from him along with everything else, and now he hates me more than ever.’ She closed her eyes. ‘In fact he’s so angry he’s threatening to take Tom away from me. Assume sole custody.’

There was a horrified silence, then, ‘No—and no,’ Tante declared strongly. ‘I do not believe it. I cannot. To part a young child and his mother? Remy would not do such a thing.’

Allie’s smile was bitter. ‘Maybe he thinks I’m not fit to be Tom’s mother.’ She sighed. ‘He’s changed—and I’m afraid that’s my fault.’

‘Not in his heart,
chérie
.’ Madame’s voice gentled. ‘That is impossible.’ She paused. ‘Remy has the de Brizat temper, but, like a summer storm, it is soon over. Once he is over the shock of knowing he has a son, he will listen to reason. Agree to—some compromise. I am certain of it.’

Allie shrugged unhappily. ‘All the same, I’m just waiting to hear from his lawyer,’ she said. ‘Expecting the axe to fall, but not knowing exactly when.’ She bit her lip. ‘I thought that if I wasn’t around, if I went back to England, he might become a little less angry, perhaps.’

She took a deep breath. ‘And, of course, somehow I have to break the news to Lady Marchington. God knows what
her
reaction will be.’

Tante looked austere. ‘It can hardly be any surprise to her. She must have known the truth would emerge one day.’

‘No,’ Allie said. ‘I—don’t think she ever did. She wanted Hugo’s son to carry on the Marchington name—and together they invented this fantasy that Tom was Hugo’s child. Only for Grace it’s become a reality, and she’ll fight to keep it. In fact, I dread to think what she might do.’

She sighed again. ‘Oh, God, what a mess I’ve made of everything.’

Tante patted her hand. ‘It has not been completely of your making,
chérie.
That marriage of yours—a disaster. If your
father had lived, he would never have permitted it. Never! But your mother—all she could see was the title, the money, and the grand estate. Nothing else concerned her.’

And all I could see, Allie thought sadly, was a man in a wheelchair who said he needed me. Whose very survival seemed to be somehow my responsibility. So I put on my idealist’s hat and walked into the trap.

‘I should have stood up to them when I knew I was pregnant,’ she said slowly. ‘Instead of going along with this—madness. I should have walked out there and then. Made my own life.’

‘Perhaps. Yet it is not so easy when there is a child to consider. It is a woman’s instinct to protect, I think. To do what is necessary for the well-being of her baby, even if there has to be sacrifice.’

Sacrifice, Allie thought with a shudder. That’s a terrible word.

Tom came trotting over to present her with a handful of grass and a pebble. She admired them and thanked him for them with due solemnity, and was rewarded by his father’s slanting smile before he toddled off.

She watched him go, her heart twisting uncontrollably.

I’ve lost the only man I ever loved, she thought. If I lose my baby as well, what will I do? How can I live if I have nothing?
Nothing?

And prayed that she would never have to find out.

A
DAY
passed, and then another, but there was still no word from Remy. No communication from a lawyer. No request for Tom to be subjected to any form of test.

This is what it must be like to be standing in the dock, thought Allie. Waiting for the judge to pass sentence. Knowing that no plea of mitigation—no appeal—is going to make the slightest difference.

‘I feel as if I’m living on a knife-edge,’ she told Tante restlessly. ‘I can only suppose he’s biding his time. Waiting until I get back to England. I don’t know what the legal procedure is in cases like this.’

She paused. ‘Does anyone at Trehel know what he’s planning? Has—has anything been said?’

‘Not one word.’ Tante shook her head. ‘And if Georges knew, he would have told me.’ Her face was strained. ‘After all, Thomas is his great-grandson. He could not have kept such a thing to himself.’

Allie bit her lip. ‘When he finds out—will it make trouble between you? Because that’s the last thing I want.’

Tante sighed. ‘That,
mon enfant,
is in the lap of the gods. But life must go on,’ she added briskly. ‘And I have business in Ignac. Do you wish to come with me?’

Allie shook her head. ‘Tom’s in a scratchy mood. I think he’s cutting another tooth.’ Or maybe he’s picking up on my tensions, she thought. If I just knew what I was up against. If only something—anything would happen…

But there was nothing like coping with a fractious toddler for taking your mind off your problems, she thought a couple of hours later, when Tom had finally fallen asleep on her lap after a heavy-duty session with his favourite nursery rhyme book.

She’d sung the old verses to him over and over again until she was practically hoarse, letting her voice sink lower as his eyelids drooped.

She eased him gently into the corner of the sofa and got up, stretching, to make herself some coffee. She was waiting for the kettle to boil when the telephone sounded shrilly.

‘Wake Tom, whoever you are, and I’ll kill you,’ she muttered under her breath as she flew to answer it.

‘Alice, is that you?’

She’d almost forgotten how icily autocratic Grace Marchington could sound—even at a distance. And this was a reminder she certainly hadn’t bargained for.

She said slowly, ‘Lady Marchington—this is a surprise. Is there something I can do for you?’

‘Yes,’ Grace Marchington said. ‘I’d like you to bring my grandson home where he belongs. At once.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not prepared to do that,’ Allie returned. ‘We’ll be returning at the weekend, as arranged.’

‘But it should be perfectly possible to book an earlier crossing—this evening or early tomorrow—and I require you to do that.’

Alice took a deep breath. ‘Lady Marchington, you seem to have forgotten I came to spend some time with my great-aunt.’

‘Ah, yes.’ There was sudden venom in the other woman’s tone. ‘The famous sick woman who has, in fact, nothing wrong with her at all. Quite the contrary, I’m told. I suppose this was a scheme you cooked up together—to get Thomas away from me? Well, it won’t work. You are to bring him back immediately, Alice. After which I shall consider your position very carefully. So be warned. The child belongs here—with me.’

Allie stiffened. The point of no return, she thought, had finally been reached.

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘He doesn’t. And you know that as
well as I do. I should also warn you that his real father knows it too, and intends to sue for custody.’

There was a silence. Then, ‘My dear Alice,’ said Grace Marchington. She sounded almost amused. ‘You have either been drinking or had too much sun, because you are clearly delusional. My beloved Hugo was Thomas’s father. And that is the end of the matter.’

‘No,’ Alice said strongly. ‘It’s just the beginning. And all this pretending has to stop. You have to see that. Remy wants his child, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get him.’

‘Remy?’ the older woman said slowly. ‘I suppose you’re referring to that wild-eyed young Frenchman who appeared here one morning after your last ill-advised trip to Brittany, demanding to see you. Claiming he wished you to accompany him to—Brazil, perhaps? I did not pay much attention.’

‘Remy came to Marchington Hall?’ For a moment Allie felt as if her heart had stopped beating. ‘And you sent him away—without letting him speak to me?’

‘Naturally. You were my son’s wife. I told him that you were not there. That you had confessed everything to Hugo and been forgiven, and that you had both gone away for a few days. A second honeymoon to enable you to put an—essentially trivial piece of foolishness behind you.’

She paused. ‘I may even have hinted that it was not the first time you had—strayed, but that in the end you would never seriously jeopardise your comfortable lifestyle in England. That you would always know which side your bread was buttered.’

She gave a light laugh. ‘A vulgarity, but he seemed to understand what I meant, and left without further protest.’

‘Oh, dear God.’ Allie’s voice was hushed with shock. ‘He came for me, and you told him—all that?’

‘I would have done more,’ said Lady Marchington. ‘To prevent our family name being tarnished by a slut like you. And you have not changed. Because now, it seems, you are using my grandchild in a pathetic attempt to get your former lover back. Using any lie, any subterfuge, to rekindle your
affaire
with him—just as she said.’

‘She
said?’ Allie repeated. ‘What are you talking about? Who is
she
?’

‘I had a hysterical phone call from a young woman—a Mademoiselle Geran. It appears she once read some magazine article about your wedding to Hugo, and remembered our name. Traced me because of it,’ she added with distaste.

‘Solange?’ Allie found she was fighting for breath. ‘Oh, God—I don’t believe it.’

‘I suppose I should be grateful to her. She said you were pursuing this man—throwing yourself at him—although she was on the point of getting engaged to him herself. She told me that she had seen you together, and she was convinced you were trying to make him believe Thomas might be his by pretending that some—superficial resemblance meant more than it did. She thinks you should be stopped. And I, my dear Alice, tend to agree with her.’

Alice felt sick. She said curtly, ‘I can’t speak for Mademoiselle Geran’s relationship with Remy, but there’s no question of my being reconciled with him. Quite the opposite, in fact. And he saw Tom completely by accident and drew his own conclusions, so she’s wrong about that too.’

‘But you—you stupid little bitch—you told him the truth?’ Grace’s voice was a menacing snarl.

‘Grace—modern science will provide him with all the proof he needs.’ Allie spoke wearily. ‘Denial was totally pointless. And, anyway, I wasn’t prepared to lie to him. Not now, or in the future when—if—it goes to court.’

‘Thomas is my grandson.’ The older woman’s voice rose furiously. ‘A Marchington, and the last of his name. I will admit nothing different, and I will
not
allow this Frenchman to have him. Now, you will bring the boy back to England within twenty-four hours. Do I make myself clear?’

‘As crystal,’ Allie flung back at her. ‘But it doesn’t change a thing. Tom is my child, and Remy’s his natural father. And, the way things are, I stand to lose him too. So I’m fighting for myself here, Grace. Not an inheritance to which my son isn’t entitled, and which doesn’t really matter a damn.’

She paused. ‘No doubt the lawyers will be able to come up with some long-forgotten distant cousin to take his place, and you’ll just have to bite the bullet and retire. You’ve played and lost, Grace, and you have to accept it. My only regret is that I ever let you do it. I must have been crazy.’

And she replaced the receiver and stood for a while, staring into space, her arms wrapped tightly round her body.

So, she thought, it’s all out in the open at last—and that has to be totally the right thing. So why am I feeling more scared now than I’ve ever been before?

And she shivered.

‘I’ve decided to go back to England, but not to Marchington Hall,’ Allie said quietly as she and Tante sat together that evening. ‘That’s quite impossible. There’s no point in turning to my mother either, so I’ll try and find somewhere cheap, look for a day nursery for Tom, and get a job before what money I have runs out.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’m sure Grace will already have taken steps to cancel my allowance from the estate.’

She added with difficulty, ‘If you could just make it clear to Remy that I’m—not running away or hiding. Just trying to get my life in order. And that as soon as I have a permanent address you’ll pass it on to him, so that things can be settled—one way or the other.’

‘No, Alys.’ Tante’s voice was anguished. ‘I cannot let you do this. Remy would never wish it, I know. You must stay here, so that you can meet with him and talk calmly. Decide what is best for your child. That is the only way.’

‘I don’t think Remy and I can do calm.’ Allie tried to speak lightly. ‘Too much has happened. But perhaps if I’m not around, and he has time to think—to weigh up everything involved—perhaps there could be—some kind of compromise.’

She shook her head. ‘Otherwise it means a court case, scandal and tabloid headlines. All the sordid details. And I don’t want that kind of stigma attached to my son. Because he won’t be a baby for ever, and one day he’ll know. And I—I couldn’t bear that.’

‘It will not come to that,’ Madame Colville said fiercely. ‘It cannot.’

‘That,’ Allie said sadly, ‘is what I’m trying very hard to believe.’

She was restless the next day, unable to settle to anything, her mind in turmoil. And Tom was in full grizzling mode over the new tooth, one reddened cheek advertising his discomfort.

Between us, we’re the pair from hell, Allie thought wryly.

‘I think I’ll drive into Ignac,’ she announced. ‘Go to the pharmacy before it closes, and see if they can recommend something for him.’

And maybe, she thought, give it one last shot with Remy before she departed for England.

It took all the nerve she possessed to walk into the medical centre and ask for him. But she was to be disappointed. The receptionist told her that Dr de Brizat had left for the day, and asked if she wished for an appointment for the following morning.

Allie thanked her, but refused.

I shall be packing tomorrow, she thought. And perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea anyway.

She applied some of the teething remedy to Tom’s sore gum, and gave him a spoonful of the pink medicine that had also been suggested, and he fell asleep halfway back to Les Sables.

About half a mile from the house, she saw a car parked on the verge, and realised that someone had stepped into the road and was waving frantically at her. To her astonishment, she saw it was Madame Drouac.

She pulled over and opened the window. ‘What’s the matter,’ she gasped in French. ‘Is it
madame
? Has something happened?’

‘Non, non,’
the other woman assured her. She pushed a folded sheet of paper into Allie’s hand.
‘Lisez, madame.”

It had begun, Allie saw, as a shopping list, then abruptly changed.

Do not come to the house. Your mother-in-law is here, with a woman she claims is a psychiatric nurse. She
says you are suffering a breakdown caused by postnatal depression and grief for your late husband, and she is here to take charge of Thomas. I am afraid for you, my child, and for your little son. Go to the Hotel du Parc in Ignac and I will contact you there when it is safe.

‘Oh, dear God,’ Allie whispered. She looked numbly at Madame Drouac. ‘Will you go back to
madame
? Make sure she’s safe.’

A warm, capable hand descended on her shoulder and patted it.
‘Allez, madame. Allez vite.’

Allie turned the car and set off. But after she’d gone about a mile she pulled into the side of the road and stopped. She was shaking and nauseous, her mind reeling.

She smoothed the crumpled paper and read it again.

Grace is mad, she thought. Completely mad. She has to be—to imagine she can get away with something like this.

Yet why shouldn’t she? said a voice in her head. You were ill after Tom was born, so the medical evidence is there. And she’s already discussed your ‘problems’ with Dr Lennard. Therefore, what’s to prevent you being whisked into some convenient nursing home and kept there, under sedation if necessary, while she does as she wishes with Tom?

And somehow she’ll make bloody sure that Remy never sees him again—even if she has to take him to the other side of the world.

While I—I’ll have just—disappeared.

She shook her head. Oh, come on, she adjured herself. This is conspiracy theory gone berserk. People don’t behave like this. Grace couldn’t. She wouldn’t…

She stopped. Forced herself to consider. To remember. Grace and Hugo, she thought. Hugo and Grace. Both single-minded, both suffering from tunnel vision where the Marchington name and inheritance were concerned. At what point, she wondered, did obsession tip over into something even darker? A place where ordinary rules no longer applied?

Had there always been some flaw—some genetic kink—that made them feel they were somehow immune from the demands of normal conduct? Had she secretly suspected this all along—which was why she’d originally decided not to marry Hugo? Because there was always—something?

Thank God Tom isn’t his child, she thought. Thank God he belongs to Remy, who may have a temper, but who’s also decent and dedicated, tough and vulnerable, passionate and gentle. And who once loved me so much more than I deserved.

And who would now love his son and protect him always. If he had the chance.

Allie raised her head, gazing sightlessly ahead of her through the windscreen.

Grace will find me, she thought. She only has to tell the police that I’m mentally incapable and I have a child with me, and they’re bound to start searching. I thought I could deal with her. But that was before I realised the lengths she might go to.

I don’t care what she does to me, but I have to stop her taking Tom. Destroying his innocence and his pleasure in life for her own twisted purpose. I have to find somewhere safe for him that she can’t reach.