Dangerous to Know (37 page)

Ariel fathered by my own son. My mind shut down whenever I thought of this.

252Barbara 71or Bradford

“After a great deal of soul-searching I realized there was only one thing to do. I must go to New York and start digging for the facts. I had to know the truth for my own sanity. As I explained to you, I hired a private investigator and asked him to obtain certain documents for me I also told him I wanted him to provide me with information about Cyrus Locke. I was vaguely aware that, after divorcing me, he had eventually remarried and fathered children. I had noticed the occasional item about him in newspapers over the years, but wanting to forget that painful period in my life I had paid little attention.

“Several days later the private investigator reported to me at the Pierre Hotel. He brought with him various documents and a detailed summary of Cyrus Locke’s life.

“The most important document was a copy of Sebastian’s birth certificate . And there in black and white was the date of his birth: June the third, 1938. The father’s name was given as Cyrus Lyon Locke.

The mother’s name was Mary Ellen Rafferty Locke. Me. The place of birth was shown as Reddington Farm, Somerset County, New Jersey. As I had requested, the private investigator had also obtained a copy of my marriage certificate.

“The report about Cyrus Locke explained additional things to me.

Apparently he had moved to Maine after selling the farm in New Jersey and lived in a mansion he had owned since December of 1937.

Obviously he had bought this immediately after marrying me. There was no doubt in my mind that he took the baby to Maine with a nurse, installed them in that house, and brought up the child himself until he remarried several years later.

“I think he always planned to do this, Vivienne. When he raped me he was thirty-three years old, unmarried, and childless. Once he discovered he had made me pregnant, he married me to get the child. He did not want me. I was of no further use to him. But he did want an their. The more I pondered it the more convinced I became this was the only explanation. Otherwise why would he have stolen my baby?

“That night at the Pierre Hotel my world was shattered. I was so devastated I was unable to function properly for almost a week.

Finally I managed to pull myself together and flew back to France. I had a life there, a husband and family who adored me.

“But it was not easy for me to go on, and for some months I was desperately ill. The doctors were baffled as was Edouard. I was not.

I I knew what was wrong with me. I carried a terrible secret in my heart.

It was a secret I could not confide to anyone on this earth. It was the greatest burden I’ve ever had to bear, and I was concerned about Ariel.

At twenty-two my daughter was beautiful and a brilliant student.

Everyone predicted she would have an extraordinary career in medicine .

I knew there had been no genetic damage; nonetheless, I fretted about her.

“It was Edouard who helped me to recover my health. He was no longer young, but he was a robust and active man, and he devoted all of his time to me. He was always at my side, always encouraging me.

And he was full of love.

“Gradually, I began to feel better. I stopped blaming myself. I accepted that I could not change what had happened so long ago; there fore, I must live with it.

“Once I was finally on my feet I put every’ ounce of strength and energy into loving Edouard, Ariel, and Charles. I survived because I am a survivor by nature. In 1985 I received a letter postmarked Chi cogo. My heart missed a beat when I saw the name S. Loring on the back of the envelope. The letter was from Sam Loring’s daughter Samantha.

She had written to tell me her father had died. One of his last requests of her was that she write to let me know he had passed away.

She told me that he thanked me for my aid in his time of need.

So, my blackmailer was dead.

“When my beloved Edouard died in 1986 I felt that my life had come to an end too. We had been very close for the last twenty-odd years of our marriage. He had been my great love and my cherished companion; he had been my whole life. Without him I believed there was no reason for me to exist. But I went on. I drew immense pleasure from Ariel and Charles, from my daughter-in4aw Marguerite and grandson Gerard. As the years slid by I somehow managed to obliterate Joe Anthony from my mind and I put the past behind me.

“And then one night last September the past came back to hit me in the face. Ariel returned from Zaire, and she brought her fiance to meet me.

His name was Sebastian Locke.

“I will never forget that night, Vivienne. How I got through it I will never know. My mind was floundering, my senses swimming. Mso, I saw what a wonderful man he was; I ached inside because I had been so cruelly deprived of my son.”

I leaned back against the cushions, feeling depleted, then I finally finished, “And that is the story of my life. Now you know it all . .

Drawing closer, Vivienne took hold of my hand and held it in hers.

“You have moved me so much, Countess Zoe’. My heart aches for you when I think of what you’ve suffered. I don’t know how you’ve lived through it.”

“Very few people have an easy time in this world, Vivienne. What counts most is that we survive, endure.”

Vivienne was silent for a few moments and then she said in a voice so low I could hardly hear it, “You told Sebastian, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. What else could I do?”

“And that’s why he killed himself, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“Yes, Vivienne, I believe it is.”

“You must have told him after he and I had lunch together on that Monday.”

“Yes, that’s so. I saw him on Wednesday.”

“You came to New York?”

I nodded. “Ariel went back to Zaire. Sebastian flew to New York.

I followed him. I telephoned him at the Locke Foundation, explained that I was in New York and had to see him urgently. He agreed. Why wouldn’t he? I was the mother of the woman he was planning to marry.”

“Where did you meet?”

“At his townhouse. I must admit, I was extremely distressed, in a turmoil inside. But I managed to hide it. I plunged right into my story.

I told him I had once been married to Cyrus Locke, that he was my son who had been stolen from me by his father. And then I told him I was also Genevieve Brunot. He was stunned, reeling from shock. And of course he didn’t believe a word of it. Not at first.

“However, I had the documents to bear me out. His birth certificate And my own. My marriage license. Ariel’s birth certificate. And the photograph of Joe Anthony and Genevie Brunot, taken at La Chunga in July of 1960. The thing that baffled him was that this woman confronting him with a most horrifiing story was Genevie, the pretty young woman he had known in Cannes. I convinced him she and I were the same person. I explained that I lied about my age, had dropped ten years because he was so young. I had too many pertinent details about those four days we’d spent together. He had no option but to believe me. I also showed him some other photographs of me that had been taken that year. They helped to convince him that I was Genevieve Brunot.

“When he asked how I had found out about everything, I explained how Sam Loring had contacted me in Paris, blackmailed me, and told me of Joe Anthony’s real identity. Before I could stop myself I confided some of the things I’ve told you today, Vivienne. About Cyrus Locke’s abuse of me-” I paused for a moment, then I said slowly, “I destroyed Sebastian, of course. I know that. But I had to prevent a great tragedy from occur ring. I told him he must never again see Ariel.”

Vivienne gave me a hard stare and shook her head. “And later that week Sebastian took his life. But he needn’t have done that. He could have broken off his engagement to Ariel, and he didn’t even have to explain why he was doing so.”

“Yes, Vivienne, you’re right.” I let out a long sigh, clasped her hand all that much tighter. “Mi I knew that day was that I had to stop them from marrying. I never imagined he would kill himself. But I should have known, I should have guessed when he said, ‘However am I going to live without her. She’s the only person I’ve ever really loved.” I wept when he said that and so did he.”

Vivienne was very still. Her eyes were brimming and slowly the tears ran down her cheeks. She could not speak. Neither could I. We just sat there holding each other’s hands, caught up in our own thoughts.

After a while Vivienne roused herself. “You told me at the beginning that no one else knows any of this. Why did you tell me?”

“Because you had such a need to understand why Sebastian killed himself.

I realized that if I didn’t explain everything, you would be haunted by it for the rest of your days.”

“Thank you Countess Zoe”, for confiding in me,” she answered very softly.

“You know, Vivienne dear, I’ve never understood why it all happened … why I had to meet Joe Anthony in Cannes all those many years ago.

Chance? Fate? I cannot explain … I don’t think anyone could . .

“How tragic it is,” Vivienne murmured. She looked at me closely.

“I loved him so very much. Mways.”

“I know you did … and that’s another reason why you had to know the truth. The truth sets us free, Vivienne.”

VIVIENNE

llQQll A Countess Zoe’s house on the Faubourg Saint-Germain was very quiet when Hubert let me in. Quieter than usual, I thought as I followed him across the grand marble foyer.

“How is Countess de Grenaille?” I asked him as we went up the wide curving staircase together.

“A little better today,” he said. “She has rallied again. She is a most remarkable woman, Madame Trent. And she is looking forward to seeing you.”

“As I am her, Hubert.”

He led the way down the corridor, opened the big double doors to her bedroom, ushered me in, excused himself, and disappeared, as always the perfect butler.

I glanced toward the antique bed and saw to my surprise that it was draped in its silk coverlets and was empty.

“I’m over here, Vivienne, sitting near the fire,” Countess Zoe said in a voice that was stronger than I had expected. This morning, on the phone, she had sounded weak. I had been alarmed, worried for her health.

I turned to her, and, smiling, I walked across the room in the direction of the fireplace. And I could not help thinking how well she looked.

Hubert was right, she was remarkable, extraordinary really.

Her chestnut hair was stylishly coiffed and she wore makeup, expertly applied. I was again struck by the arresting looks of this seventy-three year-old woman.

This afternoon she was wearing delphinium-blue silk lounging pajamas , most obviously couture, and sapphire earrings. The color of the silk outfit and the sapphires exactly matched her wonderful eyes.

From the first moment I met her I had recognized her great beauty, and there had been odd moments when she had seemed very familiar to me.

Pwed, I had not been able to fathom out why this was so.I knew now.

She reminded me of Sebastian. It was her eyes, of course. Bits of sky, I thought, as his had been, and their mouths were identical.

Sensitive , vulnerable mouths.

As I drew to a standstill at her side, she said, “I’m glad you’re back in Paris, Vivienne, I’ve been longing to see you. Thank you for coming my dear.”

“I was planning to run over today,” I answered bending down, kissing her on both cheeks. “I was just about to phone you and invite myself to tea, when you called the hotel.”

Smiling at me, she patted my hand resting on her arm. “You’ve become very special to me, Vivienne.”

“As you have to me, Countess Zoe’.” I was carrying a shopping bag of books and I placed them next to her chair and went on, “These are for you, I hope you like them.”

“I’m sure I will, you seem to know my tastes very well, and how kind you are, my dear. Thank you.”

I went and sat down on the chair opposite and looked at her expectantly

.

“I wanted to see you because I have something for you.” As she was speaking she turned toward the Louis XV end table next to her chair and picked up a small package. Leaning forward slightly, she offered it to me and added, “This is for you, Vivienne.”

I was surprised, and as I took it from her I exclaimed, “But Countess Zoe’, you don’t have to give me gifts!”

She laughed lightly. “I know I don’t … come along, open it.”

I did as she said, removing the ribbon and the gold wrapping paper.

The small velvet box in my hands looked old, and when I lifted the lid I gasped, more surprised than ever. Lying on the dark red velvet was a heart-shaped brooch covered entirely with small diamonds and there was a slightly larger diamond set in the center. “Countess Zoe!

It’s beautiful! But I can’t accept this, it’s far too valuable!”

“I want you to have it. Harry Robson gave it to me when we were married in 1944 and I’ve always liked it. I think you will enjoy it too.

It’s a pendant as well as a brooch. If you look on the back you will see how it works. There’s a little hook, so it can hang on a chain.”

“But this is something you should give to Ariel or your daughter-in law.”

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that you are my daughter-inAaw? Or were, when you were married to Sebastian.”

I simply stared at her without speaking. Md of course she was correct.

But the brooch was obviously extremely valuable and I was reluctant to take it.

She continued, “However, that is not the reason I am giving it to you. I want you to have a memento, something special to remember me by “Oh Countess Zoe, I’ll never forget you, how could I! You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met in my whole life.”

“Please accept the brooch, Vivienne, you’ll make me very happy if you do. It gladdens my heart to think that every time you put it on you’ll be reminded of an old lady who has grown very attached to you.”

“You sound as if you’re not going to see me again. And you are!

Every time I come to Paris!” I exclaimed.

“I sincerely hope so. But let us be realistic, my dear. I am an old woman and I am very ill. You know that, Vivienne. And I am not going to be on this earth forever. But enough! Let us not get maudlin today.