Emma's Secret

  Momentarily startled, she had suddenly resented the intrusion, had excused herself and hurried away. A moment later Gideon had been by her side asking her what the man had been talking to her about. He had been upset, a little angry.

  She had explained everything to him but he hadn’t seemed satisfied, and somehow the incident had cast a pall over the dinner later.

  Even this morning, on the private jet flying to Douglas in the Isle of Man, he had been a little curt with her, and moody. After they had checked in at the hotel he had disappeared almost at once, telling her he had to meet with Christian Palmer. She had fully understood–that was the reason they had flown over to this little island in the middle of the Irish Sea–yet it had upset her because he was so…cold. Yes that was it, that’s what bothered her. His coldness. Until last night he had always been warm, loving and considerate.

  She wondered if he wanted to break up with her, and then dismissed that thought at once. After five months, almost six, she knew him well. He was too straightforward and open to play games. If he wanted to end the relationship, he would. He would tell her in his usual frank way, which she had found refreshing and disarming. Some men were devious. Not Gideon Harte. He was almost too honest at times.

  He had told her he would be back after lunch, and would meet her at the hotel. It was called The Nunnery, and if she hadn’t been so upset she would have teased him about the name. After all, he had signed them into a suite as Mr. and Mrs. G. Harte.

  Did she want to be Mrs. Gideon Harte? She wasn’t sure. Yes, she wanted Gideon, the man, but her father had tried to put her off him, telling her she wasn’t in his league, that he was a Harte, and came from a different world. It struck her again that her father had been strange on the phone in the last few months, especially when it came to that particular family.

  Jumping up, Evan shrugged into her cotton windbreaker and, shoving her hands in her trouser pockets, walked along the pretty beach, wishing they could stay in the Isle of Man for the weekend and work things out. But they had to go to Yorkshire.

  Lifting her head, she glanced up. The sky was a lovely blue, filled with hazy clouds, and out on the bay there were sailboats and several yachts. It was a charming spot, and she certainly wanted to come back. There were quaint little houses and shops, and ancient-looking pubs, and she had noticed that the surrounding landscape was quite breathtaking. Did it remind her of Nantucket, this unique spot? Or somewhere else? Somewhere she had been with her grandfather when she was young? Somewhere in France, she thought.

  Paula O’Neill had been so nice last night, and Evan was relieved that those now-famous diaries contained nothing odd or unpleasant about her darling gran. Glynnis Hughes had been the centre of her world when she was a child, and she had loved her deeply, looked up to her. She couldn’t have borne it if there had been something wrong about her gran.

  The sunny weather, the pretty surroundings, helped to calm Evan, and soon her morose mood fled. Blown away by the Irish wind from across the sea, she thought, and taking a deep breath she decided she was going to be…on an even keel when Gideon returned from his meeting. She hoped that the famous and brilliant newspaperman would agree to come back to work for the Hartes…certainly that would put Gideon in a better mood, if nothing else would.

  Leaving the beach, Evan wandered up into the town, and soon found a charming little café for lunch. After ordering a bottle of still water, she looked at the menu, and when the waitress arrived she ordered fish and chips.

  Gideon found Evan sitting in the garden of The Nunnery when he returned from his meeting with Christian Palmer. She was reading a magazine, but put it down when she heard his step.

  Looking up at him, smiling, she said, ‘I hope everything went all right, Gideon. Is Christian coming back?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ he said, sitting down next to her in one of the garden chairs. ‘It’s a kind of compromise.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked him, genuinely interested in his work.

  ‘He’s coming back part of the time. It’s not exactly what my father wanted, but it’s better than nothing, I suppose. He just loves it here in Douglas so much he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. What we’ve agreed is that he works for three weeks and then gets a week off. Also, quite a few free months in the summer. He loves sailing, the beach life.’ Gideon sighed. ‘I’m going to have to cover us by finding a really bright young journalist to train, somebody who can fill the gap when Christian’s away.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  Gideon fell silent, lost in thought.

  Looking across at him, Evan said, ‘Can we talk about last night, Gideon? Please?’

  ‘If you want to, yes,’ he agreed in a neutral tone.

  ‘I do. Not that there’s a lot to talk about…I just don’t understand why you were so angry…about that guy speaking to me.’ She shrugged, half laughed. ‘He didn’t mean any harm.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Gideon asked, sitting up straighter, giving her a hard stare. He didn’t want to tell her how angry his father had been when he had seen Jonathan Ainsley and Evan chatting. Ainsley’s presence at the retrospective had infuriated Winston, and then he had suddenly grown suspicious, asking him if Evan knew Ainsley from somewhere. But basically, deep down, Gideon knew it was an innocent encounter on her part. On the other hand, a Harte didn’t talk about a Harte to somebody who wasn’t a Harte. Family rule. Emma’s rule. And so he didn’t mention his father being upset, just fudged it a little and finally said, ‘The man who came over to chat to you is a somewhat disreputable member of our family. His name’s Jonathan Ainsley, and I was upset that he was…accosting you, Evan. And curious to know what he actually talked to you about.’

  ‘But Gideon, darling, I told you,’ she responded, being careful to keep her voice soft, very low. ‘He asked if I was related to Paula O’Neill, who I was, did I work at Harte’s, what I did there. And so I told him, but then I began to think he seemed a bit…creepy, you know, really weird, so I edged away. And then suddenly you were at my side and steaming.’

  He nodded, realizing he had perhaps been out of line a little last night. Forcing a laugh he said, ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you I might have been jealous?’

  Evan started at him askance, and grinned. ‘But he’s old enough to be my father! This Jonathan Ainsley guy is easily sixty! Really, Gid!’

  ‘Ainsley’s not a nice man. If you ever run into him again, walk in the other direction. And walk fast.’

  ‘I won’t run into him again.’

  ‘You never know.’

  Evan decided he was goading her again, and she said quietly, ‘Enough of this relative of yours. Are you angry about something else?’

  ‘Not angry. No. Just disappointed,’ he admitted.

  ‘In me?’ she asked, her voice suddenly rising an octave.

  ‘No, not actually in you. I’m disappointed that you seem to be pulling away from me…I’ve never been in a serious relationship before, Evan. I am serious about you…I’d hoped that you would have been able to commit to me, as I have to you…but you’re so elusive.’ He sighed. ‘Don’t you feel the same way any more?’

  ‘Oh Gideon, yes, yes, I do. I just want to be sure. We’ve only known each other five months…’

  ‘Sometimes you can know someone all of your life, and never truly know them…then again, you can know someone totally in only a few days.’

  ‘I do love you, Gideon…’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘But there’s a but?’

  ‘Not really. It’s my father—’ She cut herself off, shocked that she had mentioned his name, and stared at Gideon, unexpectedly lost for words and furious with herself.

  ‘Your father doesn’t even know me. Are you saying he objects to me?’

  ‘No, no, not at all!’ she cried, her expression earnest, seeing the colour flooding into his face. She knew he was a very proud man. ‘He thinks that we’re from different worlds, that it might not work out in the long haul.’

/>   ‘That’s your father. What do you think?’

  Evan did not speak for a moment; she sat in the other chair, looking at him, loving him, knowing now that if she wasn’t careful she would end up losing Gideon Harte. And that she did not want to risk.

  ‘I don’t think it matters at all that we’re from different worlds.’ Reaching out, taking hold of his hand, she smiled at him.

  He stood up, went over and tilted her face to his, kissed her cheek. ‘Let’s not quarrel any more.’ Pulling her to her feet, he added, ‘I just can’t stand it when we do.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  A shaft of bright light suddenly cut through the dim greyness of the bedroom, and Tessa blinked and endeavoured to sit up. She saw Mark silhouetted in the doorway, and instinctively she knew he was in one of his hostile moods. Over the last few weeks she had grown more and more atuned to him, knew what to expect.

  Taking a deep breath, she said in a steady voice, ‘Hello, darling. We missed you tonight.’

  ‘Where were you?’ he asked in a dull, low tone, coming into the room, closing the door behind him.

  Reaching out, Tessa turned on the little brass lamp she used for reading. But it cast only a small pool of light near the bed, and she could not quite make out the expression on his face. He remained standing near the door.

  ‘It was the retrospective at the store,’ she explained. ‘The fashion retrospective. I kept thinking you would arrive.’

  ‘I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it,’ he muttered.

  He had done nothing of the sort, but Tessa ignored this and said, ‘Never mind. We did miss you at dinner, though. My mother was asking for you.’

  ‘I left you messages.’

  This wasn’t true either. However, she went along with it, having learned of late not to argue, exclaiming, ‘Oh dear, and I never got them. Were you working late, Mark?’

  ‘Yes, at the office.’

  ‘Haven’t you had any dinner? Do you want me to go downstairs and make you something?’ She pushed herself up in the bed, her eyes on him. She was suddenly wary.

  ‘No. I’ve eaten.’ He slouched into the room, beginning to undress as he did, throwing his jacket on a chair, pulling off his tie, stepping out of his trousers and underpants. Then he went into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door.

  After a moment Tessa heard the toilet flush, the water running. She stared at the door, her mind racing, wondering about his condition. He hadn’t been drinking, she was fairly certain of that, but there was a strangeness about him. He spoke in a mumble, and he had moved in slow motion. It alerted her. Was he on something again? Feeling suddenly extremely vulnerable in bed, Tessa threw back the bedclothes and got up.

  At that moment the bathroom door flew open and Mark stepped into the bedroom. There was an aura of anger around him.

  They stared at each other across the bed.

  Mark spoke first. ‘Why did you get up? Don’t you want to share my bed anymore? Perform your wifely duties?’

  Tessa forced a faint laugh before saying, ‘Don’t be silly, Mark, of course I do.’ She laughed again even more weakly and added, ‘I was just going to check on Adele.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought I heard a noise.’

  ‘No you didn’t! You just want to leave my bed. Who are you screwing these days? Is it Toby Harte? Are you still having it off with your cousin?’

  Tessa tensed up, but she kept total control of herself, edged toward the door.

  ‘Answer me!’

  ‘You know there’s no truth in what you suggest,’ she replied, keeping her voice low, controlled, taking a few small steps again.

  ‘I don’t trust you, you bitch!’ Mark rushed to the door, locked it, and then moved in on her, his fury finally coming to the surface, bursting out of him.

  Tessa backed away, but he was fast, and he suddenly had his hands on her shoulders. Pulling her toward him roughly, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. She struggled, trying to avert her face without much success; he gripped her even tighter, and pushed her up against the wall, then slammed her back against it as she tried to push him away again, wanting to escape him. But tonight he was stronger than usual. Now he flattened his body against hers, brought his mouth to hers, pushed his tongue in it, then with one hand he sought her breast. She tried harder to extract herself, and almost did, but he lunged at her, snatched at the neck of her nightgown, and ripped it down to the hem. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her to the bed, threw her on it, and flung himself on top of her. As his face came down to hers, he mumbled, ‘You’re not going to get away from me.’

  ‘Please, Mark, don’t do this. I don’t want you to make love to me like this. You’re hurting me. Please, Mark, calm down. I’m saying no, to you, Mark. No. No. NO. Please stop!’

  ‘It’s Toby you want. I know that. Everyone knows that. The whole world knows that. But you can’t have him. I won’t let you. You’re mine, bitch. And you’re going to submit to me.’

  ‘No, Mark, no. Not this way. This is rape, Mark.’ Tessa began to sob, and tried once more to slither out from under him, but he was a dead weight on her body. She could not move, could barely breath.

  His face, hovering above hers, was engorged, and there was a look of pure hatred in his eyes. Unexpectedly, he threw back his head, and a shout of laughter escaped him. ‘Rape? You call this rape? Then you’d better get used to it, you little whore. Because this is the way it’s going to be from now on. You must submit to my will, submit to whatever it is I want from you.’

  ‘Oh please, don’t do this,’ she cried, tears running down her face. She grabbed at his shirt, tried to pull herself upright.

  Mark Longden paid no attention to her pleas. Instead he plunged into her, forcing himself inside her, thrusting against her, making grunting noises as he did, his breathing ragged.

  Fight though she did, Tessa was no match for him, and she finally gave up, exhausted. She lay still, let him have his way with her, vowing it was never going to happen again. He was raping her for the last time.

  Finally he rolled off her, fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, breathing heavily.

  Tessa waited for a while and then she turned off the small brass reading lamp, slid out of bed and crept towards the door. Unlocking it as quietly as possible, she slipped out into the corridor, shut the door softly behind her. After looking in on Adele, checking that she was asleep, Tessa went down the corridor to her own private suite of rooms.

  After taking off her torn nightgown, and throwing it in the wastepaper basket, she stepped into the shower and let the hot water sluice over her for some time, leaning against the tiled wall in the showerstall, sobbing as if her heart would break. But after a while the tears ceased, and she shampooed her hair, washed herself thoroughly, wanting to remove all traces of Mark. And she was thankful that she had started to use birth control pills again…the last thing she wanted now was to find herself pregnant by him again.

  After drying herself and her hair, Tessa got dressed, pulling on tights, a pair of grey lightweight gabardine trousers, and a white cotton top. Pushing her feet into a pair of comfortable brown loafers, she began to pack a few clothes to see her through the weekend. Later she would prepare a case for Adele, whilst Elvira got herself ready and packed for a trip to the country.

  Later, sitting at her desk in her office in the private suite, Tessa wracked her brains, wondering where to take her daughter and the nanny. Certainly she did not want to go to Yorkshire; she didn’t want her mother and Shane to know about Mark’s treatment of her. She was far too humiliated to confide in them. I’m an abused woman, and I’m fitting the profile perfectly. Hide the facts. Don’t tell a soul. Forgive him. Accept his contriteness and apologies. Until he does it again. And again. And again. Until he kills you.

  Tessa had now read enough about abuse to understand…and she did understand many of the reasons for it. And yet Mark did not exactly fit the profile of an abuser. She knew without a doubt
that he was on something, drugs of some kind. And he was drinking.

  Sitting back in the chair, staring blankly at the computer screen, Tessa unexpectedly had a moment of absolute clarity: yes, there was only one place for her to go: Pennistone Royal. There was nowhere else she was truly safe from Mark Longden. For undoubtedly, he would try to find her and their child. He would come after her with deadly intent in his heart.

  Anyway, she belonged there, didn’t she? Belonged in her mother’s house.

  It struck her that she knew exactly who she was at this precise moment in time. She was the daughter of Paula O’Neill, the great-granddaughter of Emma Harte. She was very much a Fairley in many ways, but she was a Harte. And therefore she must stand tall, be strong, take control of her life. And it must be a life without Mark Longden.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Paula stared at her pad, scanning the list of guests she and Shane expected at Pennistone Royal for the weekend. It was more than she had originally thought.

  Some of their children would be there. Emsie; Desmond, who was coming home from boarding school and Linnet. And Linnet had invited Evan Hughes, and so she wrote Blue Room next to her name, and moved on to Julian Kallinski. He would be comfortable in the Gold Room, she decided. Grandfather Bryan came to stay with them every weekend these days, so he had his permanent suite, which he loved. He would stay put.

  Smiling, feeling a sudden surge of happiness, Paula sat back in the chair, thinking about her daughter’s forthcoming engagement to Julian. How happy Grandy would have been, and David Kallinski, Emma’s dear old friend. Emma, in particular, had longed for the three clans to be joined in matrimony, and finally it was going to happen. She and Shane had elected to announce the engagement and throw a family dinner the night before the upcoming birthday party for Shane and Winston, two weeks from now.

  Aside from Evan Hughes, all of the guests at the dinner would be family members. She hoped there would be no family squabbles….