The Right Bride? (16 page)

And I know now where I must turn. Because I realise that there’s only ever been one place—one person.

What was it Tante had said? That a woman with a child had to do what was necessary, even if there had to be sacrifice?

The tears were hot and thick in her throat, but she choked them back. There was no time to cry now. She would weep afterwards. After she had done what she had to do. What was necessary.

She started the car and drove to Trehel.

Tom was still asleep when she got there, so she left the car quietly and walked to the door alone.

They said in Ignac that you’d gone home, she whispered silently. So be here. Please be here.

She knocked and waited. Then the door opened and he was standing there, the dark brows snapping into a frown.

‘Alys?’ There was a note of incredulity in his tone. ‘What are you doing here?’

He was wearing close-fitting charcoal pants, and his white shirt hung open over them. His bare feet were thrust into espadrilles, and his hair was still damp from the shower. Her aching senses picked up the tormenting fragrance of soap and warm clean skin. Taunted her with them.

‘I—I had to see you.’ She hesitated. ‘But I seem to have picked a bad time. Are you going out?’

‘Later.’

‘With Solange?’ The question was uttered before she could stop herself.

Remy propped a shoulder against the door frame. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There is a card game tonight at the Café des Sports.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Does that satisfy your curiosity?’

Her face was burning. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘It—it’s none of my business.’

‘No,’ he said with a touch of bleakness. ‘It is not.’ He paused. ‘What do you want with me, Alys? Why are you here?’

She stared at him across the abyss of her own making. The great pit of misunderstanding and bitterness that seemed to be widening—deepening between them with every moment that passed. Somehow she had to reach out to him. Not for her own sake—she had already forfeited all chance of that. But for Tom, who was precious to them both. For Tom…

Her voice was a stranger’s, small and strained. ‘I came to say that I—I’m giving you the baby.’

Once the impossible, the agonising words had been spoken, others came, in an urgent, stumbling rush.

‘I’ve brought him to you. Our child—our little son. I want you to take him for me. To love him and keep him safe. Because I realise that you’re the only one who can.’

‘In the name of God,’ he said. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m telling you I’ve changed my mind. Because we can’t
fight over him, Remy. It’s—wrong. He’s part of you—part of me. We’d just be tearing ourselves in pieces.’

‘Alys,’ he said. ‘Listen…’

‘No, you listen—please. He’ll have a good life with you. I know that. This is a wonderful place to grow up in. He won’t be imprisoned here—or warped—or any of the things I dread might happen to him if I’m not around to protect him.’

She swallowed, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, her nails scoring her palms. ‘If you—take him, I—I won’t interfere. I promise. I won’t be a nuisance, or make any demands. He’ll be yours. But you said—once—that you’d let me see him sometimes.’

She spread her hands in a gesture of supplication. Of surrender. ‘So you can impose any conditions you like. I—I’ll do whatever you want—be whatever you want—if—if that’s how it must be…But please—dear God—please let me come here occasionally—so he doesn’t forget me.’

Her voice cracked, and with it the last remnants of her control. The tears she’d tried to dam back were suddenly smothering her. Crushing her. And she sank under their weight down to the ground at his feet and knelt there, her whole body shaking under the force of her sobbing.

Dimly, she heard him swear, softly and succinctly. Then she found herself being raised, lifted into his arms, and carried into the house.

A sofa received her, and she shrank into its softness, an arm hiding her blurred and swollen eyes. She was aware of him moving about. The chink of glass. Then a bunch of tissues being pushed into her hand and a tumbler held to her lips.

She winced away from the smell of spirits. ‘What is it?’ Her voice was drowned and shaking.

‘Whisky,’ he said. ‘Drink it.’

She obeyed, choking a little. Felt warmth begin to penetrate the Arctic night within her.

Eventually, she dared to look at him. He was seated at the other end of the sofa, his own glass clasped between his hands as he gazed down at the floor.

He said quietly, ‘You say you have—brought our child to me? Without warning—or discussion? But how could you do such a thing. And why?’

Mutely, she fumbled in the pocket of her skirt and passed him Tante’s warning note. She saw him read it, then go back to the beginning and examine it again, his sudden frown deepening thunderously.

‘How did you get this?’

She said tonelessly, ‘Madame Drouac was waiting for me on the road. Tante Madelon must have pretended she was sending her shopping.’

She swallowed. ‘My mother-in-law is a very plausible, very powerful woman. The family doctor in England is totally under her thumb, and I know she’s already put the idea into his head that I need therapy. I—I didn’t take it seriously at the time, but I do now. I also realise I’d have a problem protecting Tom from her in England. That she wouldn’t hesitate to use him as leverage against me if necessary.

‘So, I—turned around and came here. You see, I was desperate. I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Ah,’ Remy said quietly.
‘Oui, je comprends.’
He downed his whisky in one swift movement and rose to his feet. ‘You have left Thomas in the car?’

She nodded. ‘He’s asleep. He’s been teething. I bought some stuff from the pharmacy. But I thought, as you’re a doctor, you’ll know what’s best to do for him.’

‘Will I?’ His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘I hope you are right.’ He walked to the door and disappeared outside.

As Allie turned to put her glass on a table beside the sofa, her hand brushed something that moved, and she realised she was holding a little red and white horse on wheels. She stared at it for a long moment, then gently put it back where she’d found it.

It was some time before Remy returned, and he was alone.

Allie reared up in alarm. ‘Where is he? Oh, God—has something happened?’

‘He is at the house,’ he said. ‘Being worshipped by my
father and grandfather. Also by Madame Lastaine.’ His mouth twisted. ‘He will need to be rescued before she attempts to feed him.’

She sank back against the cushions. ‘I thought for one awful moment that Grace might have found him.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m still scared that she’ll find a way of taking Tom from me and keeping him.’

‘But Thomas is with me now,’ he said. ‘So that cannot happen.’ He paused. ‘It does not concern you that I might do the same?’

‘Yes.’ She did not look at him. ‘But I have to risk that. Because Tom’s safety and happiness are all that matters.’

His head lifted sharply. ‘All?’

‘All that can be allowed to matter, anyway.’ She got to her feet, still clutching the damp ball of tissues. ‘And now I’d better go back to Les Sables and face her. Convince her to give it all up as a bad job.’

‘An excellent notion. But not yet,’ Remy said. ‘Now we need to talk. So sit down, Alys.’

She complied reluctantly. ‘My great-aunt…’

‘My grandfather has telephoned Madame Madelon, and all is well. But she has agreed to spend the night here at Trehel, and bring your clothes and those of Thomas.’

‘Oh?’ she said. ‘And—Lady Marchington?’

‘Your mother-in-law was at last persuaded to leave, on the grounds that guests were expected, but she intends to return tomorrow at ten o’clock. At which time we shall confront her together, you and I. Mother and father.’ He paused. ‘And husband and wife.’

She said swiftly, ‘But we’re not—husband and wife.’

‘There is the matter of a ceremony,’ Remy agreed. ‘But that is no great obstacle. And a child should have two parents, don’t you think?’

‘And so he will,’ she said. ‘But we certainly don’t have to—live under the same roof.’ She added hastily, ‘If that’s what you’re suggesting.’

‘You asked me if I would let you see Thomas.’ He
shrugged. ‘If you stay, you can see him every day, and probably several times during the night also.’

She bit her lip. ‘I—can’t do that.’
I can’t live in this house where we were so happy together. Not without love
—
or passion or tenderness. I can’t lie beside you at night and know that I’m just
—
a convenient body. Because it would kill me.

I’m not just Tom’s mother
—
I’m the woman who adores and needs you
—
and I won’t settle for some sterile limbo of an existence. It would turn me into some kind of shadow person, and that’s no good for Tom either.

I don’t want him to grow up knowing that I’m simply
—
tolerated for his sake.

‘No?’ He did not sound particularly concerned. ‘You have some other plan?’

‘Naturally.’ She forced an insanely bright note into her voice. ‘I have to go back to England and look for a job, somewhere to live. Start to make a—a new life for myself. That—was the original deal, I think.’

‘But circumstances change.’ Remy paused. ‘The Marchington woman—you are not afraid she will seek to be revenged on you in some way?’

‘She’s going to have her own troubles,’ she said. ‘Anyway, knowing that I’m homeless and penniless will probably be enough to satisfy her.’

‘And that is the life you would choose rather than be married to me?’ He sounded politely interested.

‘Yes,’ Allie said baldly.
Because it won’t be as hard or as lonely as living here on sufferance. Wanting you, but having to guard every word
—
every look.

‘A pity,’ he said. ‘It means I will have to find a nanny for Thomas. Do you wish to help with the choice of a suitable candidate?’

‘No,’ she said, smarting under the pain of his careless words. ‘Thank you. I’m sure you’ll choose the right person.’

‘So,’ Remy said softly. ‘You trust me in something at last.’

Anguish clawed at her. She said with difficulty, ‘Don’t—
please. For Tom’s sake we have to put everything that happened behind us. Try to forget.’

‘And you can do this?’ Remy’s voice was suddenly raw. ‘I congratulate you,
madame.
Because I am not so fortunate. I,
tu comprends,
I cannot forget. It is not possible.’ He drew a harsh breath. ‘When I opened the door earlier, and saw you, for one moment I allowed myself to hope that you had come to me. That you wanted me. But I was wrong. You spoke only of Thomas.’

He shook his head. ‘How could you—ask me to take our child without you? Do you truly think so little of me? Am I really such a monster? Do you think I can live only seeing you—sometimes? And that just for the sake of our baby?’

His voice rose. ‘
Mon Dieu,
Alys, how many more times are you going to break my heart?’

She stared at him, feeling hope tremble into life inside her, but hardly daring to believe it. ‘You—love me?’

‘Always—always.’ He moved, sitting beside her, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly. He said, ‘When I reached Paris two years ago, I was hurt and bitter, but I already knew that leaving you was a terrible mistake. That, in spite of everything, you were the only girl I would ever love, and that I should go back, and make you see this. Fight for you, whatever the cost.’

‘You followed me to England,’ she whispered.
‘She
told me that—and what she’d said to you. Second honeymoon! I was probably upstairs—throwing up.’

‘Ah,
mon ange.
But I did not know what to believe. It seemed that maybe you had been making a fool of me after all, and that I should go, try to put you out of my mind for ever.’

He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them reverently. ‘But I could not. You were there in my mind—in my heart—wherever I went, whatever I did. I could not escape the memory of what we had shared. I also had a dream, Alys, of you as my wife, and the mother of my children. A life together here in this house. As that seemed impossible, I thought—Stop running. Go back and make another life.’

She looked down. ‘With Solange?’

‘What are you saying? Are you mad?’ Incredulity mixed with horror in his voice. ‘You think I would involve myself with the woman who gloated over the destruction of our happiness? I swear to you that I have never given her a moment’s encouragement.’

‘But she thinks—’

‘Then that is her problem,’ he said. ‘Not ours. Because this house held only memories of you.’

‘Yet when we met you didn’t seem very pleased to see me.’

Remy groaned. ‘I was terrified. Because it had occurred to me that your life could have changed so completely that there was no longer any place in it for me.’ His smile was wry. ‘When you exist for so long on a thread of hope, Alys, you have no wish to see it broken.

‘And then, as I feared, you told me that it was over. And I—I reacted badly. I make no excuse for that. But I could not sleep that night for thinking of the touch of your lips, the sweetness of your body in my arms. And I knew I could not—just give up. That I had to try once more to get you back.

‘When I came to Les Sables the next day, it was to tell you that I loved you and ask you to be my wife. Then I saw Thomas, and it was as if you had taken all that I felt for you and thrown it back in my face. I felt you must hate me very much if you could have borne my child and not told me.

‘And just for a moment I wanted to take him away from you. To destroy your happiness as you had destroyed mine. But when I heard him call you Maman I realised that, although I might threaten, I would never do it. I could not.’

‘Is that why you took his toy—the little horse?’ Allie asked gently.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A gift that you had touched. That he had played with and loved. A small part of something I thought I would have no share in.

‘But I still wanted to punish you for trying to hide Thomas from me. I thought if I treated you with equal contempt it would be no more than you deserved.’ His mouth curved
ruefully. ‘But I did not expect my bluff to be called—never believed that you would offer yourself as you did.