Rachel Lindsay - Forgotten Marriage Read online

  "Shall I carry you?"

  "No, thank you. I just felt faint for a second."

  He looked down at her. "You haven't been out of bed long. Perhaps you'd prefer to go straight to your room and meet my mother tomorrow?"

  "I'd much rather meet her now."

  "Then come and sit in here while I fetch her."

  He guided Sharon to an armchair in a long, L-shaped room. When the door closed behind him she sat up straighter and glanced around. The windows were hung with brocade curtains, their muted pastel shades picking out the colours of the Aubusson carpet on the floor and the faded, yet still-beautiful tapestry that covered the settees.

  It was much more luxurious than anything she had envisaged, and she was dismayed at the prospect of living among people who were used to this type of environment. And if Adam Peters was an example of Rufus's family, the sooner she left here, the better! The impending meeting with her mother-in-law—to which she had looked forward since the previous day—was now something she dreaded. She sprang to her feet, intent on escape.

  But it was too late. The door opened and Adam and an elderly woman entered. Sharon had time to notice that the woman was small and plump with a gentle face and faded brown hair, before she was enfolded in soft arms.

  "My dear child, how lovely to have you with us. I can't tell you how pleased I am." The woman drew back and looked at her son. "Ring for tea, darling. I'm sure you must both be longing for some." She crossed to the sofa, keeping hold of Sharon's hand. "There's no need to look frightened. You're among your family now and we'll look after you."

  "You're very kind." Sharon's voice was thick with tears as she sat beside her mother-in-law. "I'm sure my…I'm sure Rufus told me about you, but I can't remember."

  "Don't worry about it. You're here now and you'll be able to get to know us for yourself. If Rufus could have been with you it would have been perfect." A spasm of pain crossed Mrs. Peter's face. "I still can't believe he's dead. He was always so full of fun and high spirits."

  Sharon touched the plump shoulder. "It must be painful for you to remember.''

  ''Memories are all I have left.''

  "And I have none." Unconsciously Sharon clasped her hands tightly on her lap to stop them from trembling.

  "I suggest we keep off the past, mother." Adam came into the conversation, his eyes fixed on Sharon's hands. "The first thing for Sharon to do is to get to know us. After all, we might be the biggest villains unhung!"

  "What a silly thing to say," his mother expostulated. "You'll scare the poor girl out of her wits."

  "I couldn't be afraid in a lovely house like this," Sharon said with a smile. "It speaks for itself."

  "I'm sure it does."

  The edge to Adam's voice told Sharon he was referring to something else, though she had no way of guessing what.

  "When you said you were bringing me to Green Spinney Lodge," she said hastily, "I thought it was a cottage."

  "A thirty-roomed cottage," he replied. "I can supply you with an inventory if you like.''

  "Adam!" Mrs. Peters looked reproving. "That isn't a very good joke."

  The man opened his mouth as though to speak, then closed it again and crossed to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have some work to do. I'll see you both later."

  The moment they were alone Mrs. Peters edged closer to Sharon. "Don't take any notice of Adam, my dear. He still feels Rufus's death very badly. There was nearly seven years' difference between them and Adam always played the big brother."

  Sharon sighed. "I suppose I remind him of things he'd rather forget."

  "Adam will never forget Rufus. He doesn't talk about him but I know he broods."

  Once again Sharon sensed something deeper in these words than appeared on the surface. But before she could glean any more, a maid wheeled a tea trolley into the room.

  "Mr. Adam said he won't come in for tea. He's gone down to the home farm to have a word with Wilkins."

  "Thank you, Beryl. My daughter-in-law will pour for me."

  Nervously Sharon lifted the heavy silver teapot. "At least I haven't forgotten how to pour tea," she remarked with a smile. "It's so frightening not to know anything about myself."

  "Try not to worry, my dear. I'm sure your memory will come back as suddenly as it went."

  Sharon sighed. "I hope so. At the moment I must seem rather unfeeling when you talk about your… about Rufus."

  "No one looking at you could accuse you of being unfeeling." Mrs. Peters accepted her cup. "You're not a bit as I imagined you. You're younger and more… more gentle. But then Rufus always had perfect taste."

  Sharon dropped her gaze to her lap. "You're very complimentary."

  "I am honest. It is an old woman's privilege."

  When they had finished tea, Mrs. Peters offered to show Sharon to her room. "It was thoughtless of me not to have asked if you wanted to go there when you first arrived. But I was so excited to see you that I forgot."

  Walking with a slight limp she led the way to the second floor. Bedrooms ran along either side of a wide corridor and she traversed its entire length before entering a room at the end. It was large and had a magnificent view of the lake and small wood. But it was not the scenery so much as the room itself that held Sharon's attention, for it had obviously belonged to Rufus. On the walls hung football pennants, models of aircraft and cartoons of famous cricketers. Battered textbooks overflowed the bookshelves and were ranged along the dressing table, side by side with a profusion of photographs.

  Quickly she scanned them, seeing Rufus in white shorts and sweater, then in cricket flannels and finally in tropical kit.

  "As you see, I've put you in Rufus's room,"Mrs. Peters said, picking up a photograph and handing it to Sharon. "This is the most recent one." She hesitated. "Does it bring back any memories?"

  Sharon looked intently at the fair-haired man smiling back at her. There was no resemblance to Adam in the boyish face and careless pose.

  "I'm afraid not," she said and glanced along the bookshelves. But the schoolboy classics and sporting annuals gave no indication of the character of the man she had married.

  "If you'd like me to tell you about Rufus, I'll gladly do so,'' Mrs. Peters offered.

  "That's very kind of you but…" Sharon put her hand to her head. "It's all so confusing. I don't quite know where I am."

  "You're among your family. That's all you need think about. Why don't you lie down until dinner? Or would you prefer to have it up here on a tray?"

  "Please don't go to such trouble. I'll be fine once I've had a rest."

  "Good. You'll find a change of clothes in the wardrobe and some lingerie in the drawer. Tomorrow, if you feel strong enough, we can go to London and get you some new clothes."

  "Not for the moment," Sharon said hastily. "I don't know my financial position and—"

  "I doubt if you have any money," her mother-in- law intervened ruefully. "Rufus was an extravagant boy and didn't leave you well provided for. But that mustn't worry you any more. As I said before, we're your family now and we'll be happy to take care of you."

  "I can't let you do that." Sharon took a step forward."It isn't that I'm ungrateful—there's nothing I'd like more than to regard you as my family—but I'm young and healthy, apart from having no memory, and I have to make a new life for myself."

  "Then make it with us. You're Rufus's widow and-"

  "Adam doesn't like me,"Sharon blurted.

  "What nonsense! I told you before not to take any notice of his manner. Now you must forget these silly notions of independence and promise to stay here—at least until you've fully recovered."

  Sharon half smiled, realising it was childish to argue further. While her past was a blank, it would be wonderful to know she had a home to stay in.

  Alone in the bedroom, she allowed the atmosphere to seep into her. How peaceful and gracious everything was. If it were not for Adam's hostility she would like nothing better than to be a part of this lovely place. Yet
he so clearly resented her presence, had made so many slighting references to her not being what she seemed, that she knew she would never be at ease with him. She shivered. If only she could remember!

  Idly she picked up the photograph of Rufus from the bureau and peered at it. Was this the type of man who attracted her? It must be so, since she had married him, yet she had a feeling she preferred tall, dark men. Immediately she thought of Adam. Her temples began to throb and anxiety took possession of her. It was useless trying to guess the sort of girl she was. She would learn about herself slowly, the way she had learned in the car that she didn't like to smoke.

  "But I do prefer dark-haired men," she murmured. "I'm sure of that."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sharon was awakened by the sound of a gong. She felt more rested and the return of physical strength brought with it a decrease in the vague forebodings that had filled her earlier.

  She washed in the modern bathroom adjoining the bedroom, looking around curiously as she did so. Everything was on a luxurious scale: the sunken bath, the fleecy towels and tablets of expensive, perfumed soap. There was even make-up on the shelf above the washbasin and as she applied it, she noticed it was the right shade for a fair-skinned woman. Looking at herself in the mirror was still like looking at a stranger; she moved and gesticulated, watching herself critically as she did so.

  The gong sounded again and hurriedly she made for the stairs. She was halfway down when she saw Adam watching her from the hall. In a dinner jacket he looked even more austere, his shirt startlingly white against his dark hair and tanned skin. He waited until she reached the bottom step before he spoke.

  "You look better."

  "I feel it. I'm not late, am I?"

  "This isn't a hotel," he said briefly. "You're at liberty to be late if you wish. We'll go straight into the dining room."

  They entered a large, square room with mahogany furniture and a Persian carpet. She glanced at the table and saw it was only set for two.

  "Isn't your mother coming down?"

  "No. She has a weak heart and meeting you was a strain."

  "I'm sorry."

  He shrugged. "At least it's over with. Thank heavens you gave a good performance."

  She opened her mouth to protest, then wordlessly took the chair he indicated. They remained silent as Beryl served the meal, and when she had gone, Sharon searched for something to say. But what was the point of making conversation with a man who disliked her? Resolutely she picked up her fork and ate.

  The food was delicious and they had reached dessert when she noticed Adam watching her with a strange expression.

  "What's the matter?" she asked.

  "I'm amazed that you know your likes and dislikes in food, despite having no memory. You enjoy spinach, you declined carrots and peas, and you had two helpings of potato but firmly declined gravy. Now you're displaying a sweet tooth with total disregard for calories."

  She looked at her plate, which was piled high with meringue, fruit and whipped cream. "How strange,"she exclaimed. "It must be my subconscious. They say that's always a giveaway!"

  "You're much too clever to give anything away!"

  "Am I? I don't feel particularly clever." She straightened her shoulders. "But perhaps you know me better than I know myself."

  "Perhaps I do."

  She bit her lip, determined not to let him bait her into losing her temper.

  "Were you happy with Rufus?"

  The words were barked out and her fork clattered to the table. Immediately Adam leaned forward and retrieved it.

  "I'm sorry," he went on more gently. "I thought I might… get more reaction from you if I questioned you abruptly."

  "I'd rather you didn't just yet," she said tremulously. "I… find you frightening enough as it is, without having you shout at me."

  "My God!" It was an explosion of fury. "How can you sound so innocent? You know damn well I could never frighten you!"

  "I don't know anything. I keep telling you that." Her voice was trembling, but the look she gave him was steady. "I'm tired of having you treat me as if I'm some kind of criminal. What have I done to make you dislike me?"

  "You married Rufus."

  "So that's it." There was a pause while she gave careful thought to his statement. "As his older brother, I suppose you tried to dominate his life and keep him under your thumb?"

  "As somewhat distorted view."

  "Is it? And is it equally distorted to think he went to South Africa to escape from you?"

  Adam went on eating, giving away nothing of his thoughts.

  "Did Rufus ask for your permission before he married me?" she continued. "Obviously you didn't give it, or you wouldn't be so rude to me now. But at least your mother didn't object."

  "My mother wasn't asked." The words seemed to be forced from him. "Nor did she know the reason Rufus went to Africa.''

  "What was it?"

  Adam looked levelly at her. "I suggest we don't continue this conversation. You appear not to remember and I don't want to give you a shock… bearing in mind your request of a moment ago."

  "Stop being so hypocritical. You'd like nothing better than to shock me. Answer my question and get it over with."

  "Very well. But don't say I didn't warn you." He pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair. "I sent Rufus to South Africa to keep him out of prison."

  "Prison!" She clenched her hands. "What had he done?"

  "Forged my signature on a cheque, among other things."

  "Why?"

  "He needed money. Rather more than I was prepared to give him. It was to settle a gambling debt.

  I felt that if he had to sweat it out a bit, it wouldn't do him any harm. I refused to help him and—"

  "He forged your name on a cheque."

  "Yes. The sum was large and my bank manager rang me to query it. Rufus and I had a row and I threatened to prosecute him unless he went to South Africa to work."

  "Why there?"

  "I believed that on my uncle's farm, in a new country, he might find his feet."

  She pondered for a moment. "That still doesn't explain why you dislike me.''

  "Because you married my brother for what you could get out of him. If you'd loved him you wouldn't have forced him to remain in Cape Town. Nor would you have encouraged him to gamble and drink and write to me every month for money."

  Astonishment held her silent. This man couldn't be talking about her. He must be thinking of another woman. She hated gambling and she loathed a man who drank too much. She knew it in her bones, felt it in every cell of her body.

  "If you had genuinely cared for Rufus,"Adam continued,"you could have helped him to make something of himself! As it was—"

  "You're wrong!" She pushed hack her chair. "Not about Rufus—I daresay you knew your brother better than I did—but you're wrong about me. I'm not the sort of person you think I am."

  "If you like, I can show you some of the letters Rufus wrote to me. They refer to you and your insatiable demands. They—"

  "No! "she cried. "It isn't true. It can't be."

  She ran to the door but before she could open it, it swung forward and a man came in. He was nearly as tall as Adam but heavier in build, with reddish hair, and a weather-beaten face.

  "I'm sorry, Adam," he murmured. "I didn't know you had a guest."

  "Sharon is family." Adam rose. "Allow me to introduce you. Sharon, this is Simon Lennox, my bailiff."

  A large hand engulfed Sharon's. "So you're Rufus's wife, I mean, widow."

  She smiled faintly, wincing slightly at his hearty grip. He released her hand and stepped aside to let her go out.

  "I hope you're not leaving because of me," he said with a grin.

  "I was going anyway." For some unaccountable reason she felt the colour suffuse her face and knew he did not close the door of the dining room until she was halfway up the stairs.

  At the top of the steps she hesitated, then walked slowly along the hall until sh
e saw light seeping from under a door. She paused again, then knocked softly and entered. Mrs. Peters was sitting up in bed, her dinner tray pushed to one side.

  "Why, Sharon, how nice of you to come and see me!"

  "I wondered if I could get you anything?"

  "No thank you, dear. I'm sorry I couldn't come down to dinner but I felt too tired. Anyway, it gave you and Adam a chance to get to know each other. I hope he behaved himself?"

  "We had an interesting talk," Sharon said evasively.

  "Good. In a few days I'm sure you'll begin to understand him and be friends. Now run along to bed, child. You look as pale as a ghost."

  "I do feel rather tired."

  "I'm not surprised. It's your first day out of hospital, and meeting Rufus's family for the first time, too…You'll be better after a night's sleep."

  But sleep did not come easily to Sharon and for several hours she pondered everything Adam had said, more than ever determined to leave as soon as she knew where to go and what to do.

  Did the airline have her South African address and would she find out more about herself if she went back there? Many possibilities occurred to her but none were to her liking. According to Adam she had come to England to better herself financially from the Peters family, and though she found this alien to her way of thinking, she had to stay until some other kind of truth emerged.

  With this thought she fell into an uneasy slumber, only awakening as a sunbeam filtered through a chink in the curtains and slanted across her eyes. She reached for her watch, then flung aside the bedclothes.

  A clock was delicately chiming nine in the distance as she descended the stairs and saw Beryl entering through a green baize door.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Rufus. I didn't know you were coming down for breakfast. The master left instructions not to disturb you."

  "Doesn't anyone come down for it?"

  "Only Mr. Adam. He always has breakfast in the sun parlour."

  Following the girl along a narrow passage behind the stairs, Sharon found herself in a glass-covered porch. She stopped in dismay as she saw Adam seated at a round table, a newspaper in one hand, a piece of toast in the other. This morning he wore jodhpurs and a polo-necked sweater. Its colour—bright canary yellow—accentuated his dark good looks.