Читать книгу Dangerous to Know - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 10

Long after Jack had left, I prowled around the house, stacking the dishwasher, clearing up, making the den and the dining room neat and tidy.

At one moment I even had another stab at my story, hoping to do the final edit, but I was not very successful. I would try again tomorrow, and if my concentration still eluded me I would have to let it go out as it was. The piece had to be at the newspaper in London by Friday at the latest, and I would have to FedEx it on Wednesday, no matter what.

The hall clock was striking midnight by the time I climbed the stairs of Ridgehill and went to my room, feeling weary and worn down.

I, like all of my female forebears, occupied the master bedroom that stretched almost the entire length of the house. Situated at the back, rather than the front, it was a charming room with rafters, many windows, and an imposing stone fireplace. French doors on either side of the fireplace opened out onto a wide balcony suspended over the garden. This was the most marvelous spot in the world for breakfast on spring and summer mornings, especially when the lilacs were in bloom.

Ridgehill stood at the top of Tinker Hill Road. Set amidst a copse of centuries-old maples, it looked out over Lake Waramaug. When my illustrious ancestor Henrietta Bailey had built this house she had thought things out most prudently, had chosen well when situating the master bedroom within the overall architectural plan. The views were spectacular from the many windows, were panoramic in their vistas.

I went and stood at one of the windows, moving the curtain slightly, staring out across the tops of the trees toward the large body of water far below. The lake was as flat and as unmoving as black glass, and above it the sky was littered with tiny bright stars. There was a harvest moon tonight, silvery and perfectly spherical, riding the black clouds. It cast a sheen across the murky waters of the lake, touched the tops of the trees with brilliance.

What a beautiful night, I thought, as I let the curtain drop and turned away. After undressing, I slipped into a nightgown and climbed into the grand old four-poster. Turning out the bedside lamp, I pulled the covers up over me and settled down for the night, hoping to fall asleep quickly. It had been such an exhausting day emotionally. A day of shock. A day of sorrow.

Moonlight filled the room. The silence was a balm. I lay there drifting with my thoughts; Sebastian was foremost in them. We had shared so much in this room. So much pleasure. So much heartbreak. I am convinced that I conceived my child in this room, his child, the child I lost in miscarriage. And, once again, I found myself wondering if Sebastian and I would have remained together if that child had been born. Perhaps.

Cradled in his arms, I had lain in this bed, weeping on his shoulder, and he had comforted me about the loss of our baby. How could Jack believe he was a monster? Nothing was further from the truth. Sebastian had always comforted and nurtured me. And everyone else, for that matter. Jack was so terribly wrong about him; his judgment about Sebastian was flawed, just as it was flawed about most things in his personal life. He had made a mess of it and he loved to blame others, especially his father. I loved Jack like a brother, but I saw him with clear eyes.

Sebastian had always been there for me, for as long as I could remember, since my childhood. I recall so well the afternoon he had come to me, after my mother had been found dead at the bottom of the cellar steps at his farm. I had just arrived from Manhattan; Jess, my mother’s housekeeper, had phoned him the instant I had walked through the front door and he had rushed over to Ridgehill immediately, full of concern for me.

It had been such a warm June day, unnaturally hot for that time of year, and I had been sitting on the balcony of this room, distraught, sobbing, my heart breaking, when he had come looking for me.

Eighteen years ago.

I had been eighteen when my mother died. So long ago now. Half my life ago. Yet it might have been yesterday, so vividly did I recall it.

I found myself focusing on the past yet again, and I walked back into that June afternoon of 1976.

“Vivienne…darling…I’m here! I’m here for you,” Sebastian said, coming through the bedroom and out onto the balcony like a whirlwind.

I lifted my head and blinked, staring at him, my eyes blinded by my tears and the bright sunlight streaming out behind him.

He was by my side in an instant, sitting down next to me on the long bench. Worriedly he looked into my face and his own was bleak, strained. A muscle pulsed in his temple, and his startlingly blue eyes were dulled by sadness.

Wiping away the tears on my cheeks with his fingertips, he enveloped me in his arms, held me close, soothed me as though soothing a wounded child.

“It’s such a terrible tragedy,” he murmured against my hair. “I cared for her too, Vivienne, so I know what you’re suffering. I’m suffering myself.” As he spoke his arms tightened around me.

I clutched him. “It’s not fair,” I sobbed. “She was so young. Only forty-two. I don’t understand how it happened. How did it happen? How did my mother fall down the basement steps, Sebastian? Do you think she got dizzy and lost her balance? And why was she going into the basement, anyway?”

“I don’t know. No one knows. It was an accident,” he replied, then drew slightly away and looked down into my face. “You’re aware she’d come to stay with me, whilst some of the rooms at Ridgehill were being painted, but I wasn’t in Connecticut last night. I was in the city for a Locke Foundation dinner. I got up at the crack of dawn and drove out to the farm, wanting to have breakfast with her. And also hoping to go riding with her later. When I arrived, the whole place was in an uproar. Aldred had found her body earlier and had called the police. Then he’d spoken to Jess, told her to get in touch with you. By the time I got hold of her, you were already on your way to New Preston.”

I nodded, and before I could say anything my grief overcame me once more, and fresh tears flowed. Sebastian continued to comfort me; he was so kind.

At last, I managed to say to him, “Jess believes my mother died instantly. Do you think she did? I couldn’t bear it if I thought she’d suffered.”

“I’m sure Jess is right. When someone tumbles down a steep flight of stairs I think it must go very fast…in a terrible rush. There’s no question in my mind that she did die immediately. She couldn’t have suffered, rest assured of that.”

Conjuring up the image of my mother falling to meet her doom, I suddenly cried out in my anguish. He held me closer, calming me as best he could. “I know, I know,” he said softly against my hair.

“You’re going to miss her, Sebastian,” I eventually muttered. “You loved her, too.”

“Yes.”

I buried my face against his chest and held onto him as if he were the only thing I had left in the world. In a way, he was; and he was my safe haven.

Sebastian stroked my hair, smoothed his hand down my arm, continuing to murmur gentle words. I pressed myself even closer, and I felt as though I were somehow drawing strength from him.

We sat together like this on the balcony for a long time, and eventually a kind of peacefulness drifted over me and my tears finally ceased altogether. But he made no move to get up, and neither did I; and so we continued to sit on the old bench.

At one moment I stiffened inside and held my breath, hardly daring to move. Something quite strange was happening to me. My heart was pumping rapidly; my throat had gone dry and was suddenly constricted.

The blood rushed up into my face; I understood exactly what was happening, understood myself only too well. I wanted him to stop kissing my hair and kiss me instead. I wanted his mouth on mine. I wanted his hand stroking my breast, not my arm. I wanted him to make love to me. Without knowing it, he was arousing me sexually, and I discovered I didn’t want him to stop. When I realized how damp I was between my legs my face flamed. I was mortified.

I did not dare to stir in his arms. I did not dare to look at him. He could read my mind; he’d always known what I was thinking ever since I was a little girl.

And so I continued to sit there, waiting for these extraordinary feelings to subside, to go away. I was confused and embarrassed. How could I be experiencing such feelings, today of all days? My mother was lying dead in the morgue at Farmington, probably being autopsied by the Chief Medical Examiner at this very moment.

I shuddered inside. Sebastian had been her lover for more than six years. And now I wanted him for myself. I shuddered again, hating myself for my dreadful thoughts about him, hating my body, which was so betraying me at this moment.

Thankfully, at last, Sebastian’s arms slackened and he let go of me. Tilting my face to his, he kissed me lightly on the forehead. He attempted a smile, looked as if he were about to speak, but remained silent.

Eventually, he said in a low, concerned voice, “I realize you must be feeling very much alone, but you do have me, Vivienne dear. And you mustn’t worry about a thing. I will look after you. I know it’s impossible for me to take your mother’s place, but I am your friend, and I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

“Ever since that day you found me in the gazebo, that first day we met, I’ve felt protected by you,” I replied, and I meant every word.

Again he tried to smile, but without much success. After a brief moment, he said, “You must always come to me, whatever the problem. I won’t let you down, I promise.” A small sigh escaped him, and he said, almost to himself, “You were such a lovely child. You touched my heart.”

And now he was dead, and no longer there to protect me, and my life would be that much poorer without him. I pushed my face into the pillow and it was a long time before I could stem the tears.

I must have eventually fallen asleep, for when I awakened with a start sunlight was streaming in through the many windows. Last night I had forgotten to draw the curtains and a new day had dawned. I could hear the chirping of the birds outside, and far away, in the distance, the cawk cawk of the Canada geese circling the lake.

I eyed the clock on the bedside table, saw that it was almost seven, and slid down into the bed, luxuriating for a few moments longer in the comfort and warmth. And then reality thrust itself into my consciousness, and with a rush of sudden intense pain I remembered the events of yesterday.

Sebastian was dead. I would never see him again.

I held myself still, breathing deeply, thinking about him, recalling so much about him, so many little things. We had been divorced for eight years, and I hadn’t seen all that much of him in the last three. But before then he had been such an important and integral part of my life for over twenty-one years. Twenty-one. An auspicious number to me. I had been twenty-one years old when Sebastian had first made love to me.

His image was so very clear in my mind at this moment. I saw him exactly as he was that year, 1979. I was twenty-one. He was forty-one. Twenty years older than I, but he never seemed it, not ever.

Closing my eyes, I pictured him walking into the library downstairs. It was the night of my twenty-first birthday. Sebastian had thrown a fantastic party for me at Laurel Creek Farm, held in two flower-decked marquees in the garden. The food had been delicious, the wine superb, the band the best, imported for the occasion from Manhattan. It had been a glorious evening. Until Luciana had ruined it. She had been so nasty to me toward the end of the evening I had been taken by surprise, thrown off balance, and horrified by the mean and hateful things she had said to me. Stunned and hurt, I had fled. I had come home to Ridgehill…

Tires screeched, slowed to a stop on the gravel. A car door banged ferociously.

A split-second later Sebastian stormed into the library, his body taut, his face white.

Forlornly, I stood by the French windows leading out to the garden. My handkerchief was screwed into a damp ball in my hand; tears were still close to the surface.

I had never seen him looking so furious before, and as I stared at him I realized he was terribly upset.

He stared back at me, and his eyes were chips of blue ice in his drawn face. “Why did you run away like that? Like a frightened colt?” he demanded in a stern voice. Then he crossed the room in a few long strides and drew to a standstill in front of me, stood looking down at me.

I was silent.

“Why?” he demanded again.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything, and you know it! You’ve been confiding in me since you were a little girl,” he said, his anger still apparent but under tight control.

“I just can’t. Not about this.”

“Why not?”

I continued to gape at him stupidly. Then I shook my head emphatically. “I can’t.”

“Come along,” he exclaimed in a warmer, more cajoling tone. “We’ve always been such good friends, you and I. Real pals. Vivienne, please tell me what happened, what made you bolt.”

When I said nothing, he went on swiftly, “It was Luciana, wasn’t it? She upset you.”

I nodded, but still I did not open my mouth.

“She hurt you…she said something…contemptible. Didn’t she?”

“How do you know?”

“I know my daughter only too well,” he snapped. “Tell me what she said.”

“Sebastian, I can’t. I’m not a snitch.”

He scrutinized me a little more intently, and nodded to himself. “Integrity’s bred in the bone, especially in your bones. Do you know, Vivienne, you’re the most honorable person I’ve ever met, and whilst I understand your reluctance to tell tales out of school, I do think you ought to confide in me. After all, the party was very special…to us both. Certainly giving it for you meant a great deal to me, and I was startled when you ran off the way you did, looking so upset. In all fairness, I think you should tell me exactly what happened.”

He was right, of course he was. Taking a deep breath, I plunged: “She said I was a problem to you. A nuisance. That you wanted to be rid of me. She said you resented me, resented having to look after me, having to pay my tuition at Wellesley. She said I was a charity case, a nobody, just the brat of one of your—” I stopped short, unable to continue, and swallowed hard.

“Go on,” he commanded in a clipped, rather brusque tone.

“Luciana…She said I was just the brat of…of one of your whores,” I whispered.

His mouth tightened in anger, and I waited for him to explode. But he did not. He merely shook his head, looking dismayed, and muttered in a tight voice, “She’s a liar, my daughter. There are times, Vivienne, when I believe she’s the cleverest liar I’ve ever known. A better liar than Cyrus, and that’s saying something. But she’s very often foolhardy, stupid in the lies she tells. As she has been tonight. Yes, Luciana is a little fool.”

“I’m not a nuisance to you, am I?” I whispered.

“Of course not! Surely you must know that by now. Haven’t I proved to you that I care about you, care about your well-being? And what about your party? I wanted to give it for you, and I enjoyed doing so.”

I nodded. I could not say a word. It wasn’t that I was tongue-tied. Rather, I was mortified and angry with myself. I realized how ridiculous I must look to him, how untrusting of him I must appear. He had never let me down, and I knew him to be a scrupulous man, a man of his word. Naturally he didn’t resent me. Nor did it matter to him what my school fees cost, or my clothes and my upkeep. Money had never mattered to him. He had so much of it, he was almost contemptuous of it. Or so it seemed to me. Certainly he gave a great deal of it away. I had been an idiot, listening to Luciana. She had driven me away because she was jealous of me and my relationship with her father. All of a sudden I thought of her jealousy when we were children. She had manipulated me tonight; worst of all, I had allowed that manipulation.

He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face to his. “Tears, Vivienne? Oh dear, what a sad ending to such a beautiful evening.”

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” I answered, sounding choked. “I’m so very sorry.”

Wiping my damp cheeks with his hand, he murmured, “Hush, darling, hush, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed. “And remember, don’t pay attention to a thing she says in the future. Or anything Jack says, for that matter. He’s not quite as bad as she is, and he’s not a liar, but he can be devious.”

“I won’t listen to either of them,” I promised. I took a step forward, looked up into those bright blue eyes which were so carefully regarding me. My own expression was intense. “Please say it’s all right between us.”

His sudden wide smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Nothing will ever come between us, Vivienne. We’re far too close, and we always have been. We’re friends for life, you and I. There’s a very special bond there. Well, there is, isn’t there?”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I was overwhelmed by him, by the potency of his looks, his sexuality; and I was engulfed by my own erupting emotions. I wanted him to belong to me, I wanted to belong to him in the truest sense. I tried to say something but no words would come.

Looking momentarily puzzled, he gave me a questioning glance, his eyes narrowing as he said, “You’ve got the most peculiar expression on your face. What are you thinking?”

I took another step nearer, leaned into him, and kissed him on the cheek. Finally finding my voice, I said, “I was thinking how wonderful you are, and how wonderful you’ve always been to me. And I want to thank you for my birthday party. My very special party.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

Holding my head on one side, I gazed up into his face. “I’m twenty-one. I’m grown up.”

“You are indeed,” he said with a faintly amused smile.

“Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“I’m a woman now.”

There must have been something unusual in my expression, or perhaps it was the inflection in my voice. But whatever it was, he stared back at me in the oddest way and for the longest moment, that puzzled look more pronounced. Unexpectedly, he took a step toward me, then he stopped abruptly.

We exchanged a long look, one so deep, so knowing, so full of longing, I felt my breath catch in my throat. Before I could stop myself, and almost against my own volition, I began to move forward, drawing closer to him.

It seemed to me that he watched every step I took, and then without uttering a word, Sebastian reached out for me. He pulled me into his arms with such fierceness, I was startled. And he held me so tightly I could scarcely breathe.

And everything changed. I changed. Sebastian changed. Our lives changed irrevocably. The past was demolished. Only the present remained. The present and the future. Our future together. We were meant to be, he and I. At least, so I believed. It had always been so. Our course had long been set. Somehow I knew this. Moving his head slightly, Sebastian bent down and kissed me. When he moved his tongue lightly against my lips, I parted them quite naturally. Our tongues touched. My legs felt weak and I held onto him tighter than ever for support, as he continued to kiss me in this most intimate manner. Without warning, he stopped, held me away from him almost roughly and looked down into my face.

Again our eyes locked. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. He had already told me so without uttering a word. And yet I detected hesitation in him.

I took hold of his hand and led him upstairs. Once inside the room, he let go of my hand and moved away from me, hovered in the center of the floor. I felt, rather than observed, his uncertainty. After a moment, he said in a strangled voice, “I came to take you back to your birthday party…” His voice trailed off.

“No! I don’t want to go back. I want to be here. To be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Sebastian.”

“Vivienne…”

We moved at the same time.

We were in each other’s arms, holding onto each other. Eventually we drew apart. He struggled out of his dinner jacket, threw it on a chair, undid his bow tie as he walked to the bedroom door. With one hand he locked it; with the other he began to remove the sapphire studs from his evening shirt, and his eyes never left my face as he walked back to me.

I opened my arms to him. He came into them swiftly, held me close to him. He undid my zipper and suddenly my evening dress was a pile of white lace at my feet. Drawing me toward the bed without a word, he pushed me down on it, lay next to me, took me in his arms once more. His mouth found mine. He caressed every part of me, his hands moving over me with such expertise I was soon fully aroused, spiralling into ecstasy. When he entered me a moment later, I gasped, cried out and he stopped, staring down at me. I assured him I was all right, urged him on, wrapping my arms around him. My hands were firm and strong on his broad back and I found his rhythm, moved with him, inflamed by his passion and my own urgent desire. And so we soared upward together, and as we reached the peak I cried out again, as did he.

We lay together silently. Sebastian’s breathing was labored and his body was damp. I went to the bathroom, found a towel, came back and rubbed him dry. He half smiled at me, pulled me to him, wrapped his long legs around my body, and rested against me, still without speaking. But there was no awkwardness in our silence, only eloquence, ease.

I let my fingers slide into his thick black hair; I ran my hands over his shoulders and his back. I kissed him as I wanted to kiss him. It was not long before we made love again and we did so without constraint.

Satiated and a little sore, we eventually lay still. After a while, Sebastian raised himself on one elbow, looked down at me. Moving a strand of hair, he said quietly, “If I’d known you were a virgin, I wouldn’t—”

I pressed my fingers against his lips. “Don’t say it.”

He shook his head. “It never occurred to me, Vivi, not in this day and age…” His sentence trickled away and he shook his head, a little helplessly, I thought.

I said, “I was saving myself.”

A dark brow lifted above those piercing blue eyes.

“For you,” I explained with a smug smile. “I saved myself for you, Sebastian. I’ve wanted you to make love to me for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh Vivi, and I never even guessed.”

I reached out, touched his face. “I love you, Sebastian Locke. I’ve always loved you. And I always will…all the days of my life.”

He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips, and then he put his arms around me, holding me close to him, keeping me safe.

The phone was screaming in my ear.

I roused myself from my half-dozing state and my memories instantly retreated. Reaching out, I lifted the receiver and mumbled, “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Jack said. “I’m coming over. With the newspapers.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” I groaned. “Lousy headlines, I’ve no doubt. And obituaries.”

“You got it, kid.”

“You’re going to be besieged by the press,” I muttered. “Perhaps you are better off coming here. Maybe you should bring Luciana with you, Jack.”

“She ain’t here, Viv. She’s skipped it, gone back to Manhattan.”

“I see,” I said and sat bolt upright. “Well, that’s not surprising.” Sliding my legs out of bed, I continued, “I’ll put coffee on. See you in about half an hour.”

“Make that twenty minutes,” he answered brusquely and hung up.