Dark inheritance (27 page)

"I was that child, and the man and woman I have always thought of as my parents are no relation to whatsoever. My cousin was so convinced I would want to keep my adoption a secret that he thought I would pay him to be silent."

Gina looked at Mark with a flicker of contemptuous amusement before she turned to Dominic. "But does this affect your position here?"

He shrugged. "Only that Mark's the rightful heir to Crags' Height—it's entailed and must go to the actual next-of-kin. Although I can assure you my dear cousin was only too eager to forgo his inheritance if I made it worth his while."

Barbara heard the sound of a car and a few seconds later saw the village taxi coming up the drive. She moved tentatively towards the door, but Rockwood seemed oblivious of everything except the sound of his own voice.

"Mark didn't bargain for the fact that being an adopted son has set me free in a way I'd never dared to hope. If he had I'm sure he wouldn't have taken such trouble to find out the truth about my past. If I were to pay him at all it would be simply as a thank-offering!"

Barbara glanced quickly through the door to where Evans was hovering expectantly, and then cast a look behind her. Much as she wanted to hear the end of the story it was impossible to stay any longer for the taxi-horn was blowing urgently. But the three people in the centre of the room were too engrossed to notice her departure. Rockwood was staring in triumph at Mark who seemed to shrink under his gaze, and Gina looked from one to the other in silent bewilderment, while over the three figures brooded the portrait, the secret of whose enigmatic smile had been discovered at last. Quietly she closed the door behind her and out in the hall leant back against the panelling for an instant. Then, refusing even to look around her, she walked down the three shallow steps, said good-bye to Evans and Emily, and entered the car. Resolutely she did not look back as the taxi halted at the end of the drive and kept her eyes on the road
ahead, knowing that unless that was her attitude about the past she would never be able to face the future.

Barbara found it difficult to adjust herself to life in
London and after the quiet solitude of the Welsh hills the noisy throb of the metropolis was hard to bear. Her boarding-house room although quite adequate, seemed confined after the spaciousness of her room
at Crags Height, her bed narrow compared with the
four-poster she had left, the food uninteresting and meagre after Emily's excellent cooking of the fresh farm produce. But although she tried to forget that
Crags Height existed, everything she did seemed to
remind her of it and she felt lonelier than she had ever
felt in her life before, aching for the sight of Dominic's
arrogant figure and dark red hair, longing to hear his heavy tread and deep voice.

Before she began the thankless task of job-hunting she visited Sir Edward Lawton again, hoping against
hope that he might have good news for her. But after
examining her throat he was only able to reiterate what he had said seven months ago and enjoin her to have a little more patience.

She could hardly believe it was only seven months since her first visit to him, for so much had happened in that time. Her whole outlook on life had changed, her emotional attitude had deepened and matured, and she knew that if the intervening months had done
nothing else they had given her a richness of experience
that would stand her in good stead for the rest of her
life. But this was no consolation to her yet and although
she knew that time was supposed to heal all wounds, her hurt was too new for her to believe it.

Once more she began the depressing rounds of the
agencies and once more became miserably aware of her lack of qualifications.

It was nearly ten days after she had left Wales that Barbara returned to her boarding house early one afternoon to find a sealed envelope awaiting her on the
ball table. It contained a typewritten note asking her to
call at a well-known hotel to be interviewed for position as companion, and she was thankful that at least one agency had not forgotten her.

As she walked up the wide, carpeted corridor to Room 39 of the hotel she was forcibly reminded of
the interview she had had with Dominic, and when the
page ushered her into a room she looked around al
most apprehensively. How different this was from the
darkened sitting-room of that other hotel! Here everything was in pale sycamore and pastel colouring, with
bowls of tulips and lilac lending additional splashes of
colour. The room formed part of a suite and she looked towards the two doors at the further side,
wondering whether her prospective employer knew she
had arrived. Moving across to the window she looked
down at the traffic below, at the cars scurrying like ants on the ribbon of road and the cool green of the
park opposite almost unreal amidst the tall buildings
surrounding it.

A door clicked behind her and before she could turn
a familiar voice echoed across the room.

"Hullo, Barbara."

With a gasp she wheeled round and found herself face to face with Dominic—an unfamiliar Dominic in a light grey suit, a strange carefree expression on his face.

"I daresay you're surprised to see me."

Her heart was beating so fast that her tongue seemed unable to move and she could only stare at him silently as he went on:

"I wondered whether you'd guess the note was from me."

At last she found her voice. 'Why should I? I didn't
even know you were in London. Arc you playing a joke on me, Dominic?"

She moved towards the door but he was there
before her, barring her way. "Please don't go. There's
something I want to say to you."

"There's nothing left for you to say. Please let me go."

"Not until you've heard what I want to tell you."

He caught her arm and at his touch the magic of his nearness stole over her. She steeled herself against him and moved towards the settee reluctantly, her face composed, her eyes refusing to meet his.

Dominic did not sit down but remained standing in front of her, his figure dwarfing the room.

"You left Crag's Height in rather a hurry, Barbara."

"Not at all. You knew very well I was going."

"I didn't think you'd go when you'd heard my story."

"Why should I stay? It could make no difference to
me."

For a moment he was at a loss.

"Couldn't it? Perhaps I was cleverer than I realized." With a familiar gesture he reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette, tapping it thoughtfully against his hand before he lit it. "I thought that when you heard what Mark had discovered you'd realize that there was no need for you to leave at all."

"I can't see that a change in your position could affect me."

"Can't you? Don't you realize what Mark's discovery
means—that it's set me free from everything I've dreaded?"

"Free?" she echoed.

"Yes, Barbara. Free from the shadow of madness,
free from the torment of believing that if I married, my
wife would have to forfeit her natural desire to have children in case I passed on an inherited taint! With a suddenness that took her by surprise he pulled her up into his arms and she felt his heart thudding, his
breath quick against her hair. "Darling girl, don't you
realize what it means?"

Although she longed with every instinct to respond to him she held back, refusing to allow his touch to sway her into an easy surrender.

"I realize what it means to you, Dominic, but I don't sec how it can change your feeling for me."

"But I love you." He shook her by the shoulders. "I've always loved you."

She passed a hand over her eyes. "I find that difficult to believe when I remember Gina."

'But, my darling, I
had
to bring her hi—don't you
understand? Oh, Barbara, don't you know what torture it was to behave as I did? To thrust you away when all I longed for was to hold you in my arms? It was because I loved you so much that I had to make you hate me. Don't you think I was tempted to take the easy way out and accept your sacrifice? It was because I knew how easy it
would
be that I had to make you believe I no longer loved you. The only
way I could do that was to pretend I was in love with
Gina."

Barbara stared at him incredulously and started to tremble as she realized the full implication of what he was saying. "Then you don't love Gina?"

"I hate her as much new M I did when she broke off our engagement and taunted me with madness."

"Oh, Dominic, what a dreadful thing for her to do!"

He nodded, "I can look back on it without bitterness
now because I know it isn't true, but at the time it hurt so deeply that it made a hermit out of mc, afraid
that other people might laugh at me as she had done. I
don't think you'll ever know what it cost mc to ask her to Crags' Height." A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "Although I think I was rewarded when I told her why I'd invited her!"

Barbara smiled too. "You told her that? I'd like to have seen her face!" Then: "But what about Crags' Height? What will happen to it now?"

The man drew a deep breath. "Mark's more than welcome to it. It holds nothing but unhappy memories for me."

"Your father—I mean your adopted father—could have saved you so much suffering if he'd told you this "I imagine he intended to when I came of age, he said quietly. "I think he wanted to cherish the illusion that I was' really his son for as long as possible and was afraid that if I found out the truth I might try to fad my mother's relatives."

"Will you do so now?"

He shook his head. "Even if I did there could never be any real intimacy between us—that only comes with memories. No, the best thing is to go on from here—refuse to look back at what might have been s id only look ahead into a happy future that I never thought could be mine. I have my health and, thank God, my sanity, and that's made it possible for me to take you in my arms and hold you close against me and never let you go."

His last words were murmured against her lips and
then it was as if time stood still as Barbara responded to his embrace with an ardour matching his own. All the pent-up longing of their months of estrangement
was assuaged in this deep kiss of tenderness and desire,
and she twined her arms around his neck and held his
head between her hands, losing her fingers in the rich
ness of his hair.

When she drew away at last there were still many
questions clamouring to be answered, and she refused to move back into the pleading circle of his arms,
knowing that if she did so speech would be impossible.
"Dominic darling, I must ask you—what will happen
to Mark and Aunt Ellie?" She perched on the edge of a chair and shook her head as he moved towards her. "No—answer me first."

"So you're chiding me for impetuosity now!" Smil
ingly Dominic stepped back. "My deluded cousin envisaged a lifetime of security based on blackmail, and he had the shock of his life when I agreed to his rightful ownership of Crags Height. You see. he didn't reckon with the fact that the money was not entailed.
My father—I cannot think of him as anything else—
worked hard for every penny and it had nothing to do
with the estate, so he's now in a position of being the
proud owner of a large house and numerous acres of and that will be a constant drain on his financial resources."

"What do you think he'll do?" "Probably sell it at a loss, if he can. Hell get rid of the land quite easily—my manager will gladly buy the
home farm. But the house is a white elephant No one'll
want it, I should think, least of all Mark himself."

"And Aunt Ellie?"

"At the moment she's still there. She's looks old to be
moved around, but there's a small cottage that belongs
to me in which I shall settle her. She'll be quite happy
there with her companion and Emily, and III see she has everything she wants."

"So my ogre has a heart of gold after all?"

"Gold is too hard to describe my heart at the moment—it's so full of love for you."

He opened his arms and Barbara ran into them with
a
little
murmur, resting her head against his shoulder
while he stroked her hair.

"Oh, Dominic, I thought I'd die when you were so cruel to me after the cruise. I couldn't believe you didn't love mc or want me.'

"Want you!" he said urgently. "There wasn't an hour
of any day or night when I didn't want you." His voice
was husky. "Oh, /y
nghalon,
I'll never stop wanting you"
We've so much to make up for that I'm not letting you
go any more. We'll be married right away and go abroad
for a long honeymoon, my darling. Then we'll come back and start our life together in London."

"But you'll hate that, Dominic. You couldn't bear to
live in a city after the peace and quiet of Crags' Height?"