An Introduction to the Pink Collection (11 page)

“The man who built that house knew what he was doing when he added the tower,” Wyngate said abruptly.

“The tower isn't part of the original structure,” Rena pointed out. “It was added a hundred years later by the seventh Earl.”

“Then he knew what he was doing. A man could climb up to the top of that and be monarch of all he surveys. That's what a tower is for. It should be bigger. Much bigger.”

“It's already too large for the house,” Rena objected.

“It should be bigger,” Wyngate said obstinately.

An uneasy feeling was creeping over her. They had seen this man off the day before, and now he was back as though nothing had happened. Had his mind actually taken in the fact that John had refused? She began to think it hadn't.

Wyngate's gaze was still fixed on the tower. He spoke to Rena without looking at her.

“The trouble with my daughter is that she never seems to be interested in the men I want her to be interested in.”

“Maybe that's because you can't choose for another person,” Rena replied. “It's up to her and I think it would be foolish of her to marry someone unless she was very much in love with him.”

Her voice unconsciously softened on the last words. She felt as though a dream had come over her, but she was startled out of it by his furious voice.

“Matilda will love and marry the man I want her to. What woman is capable of choosing well, when her father is as rich as I am?

“Of course men will want to marry her because they know I am rattling with golden sovereigns, but I know what is best.”

“Then it seems to me that your money is her misfortune,” Rena replied quietly.

“Rubbish! Don't talk in that drivelling fashion. I know who will make her happy, not only for a short time, but for the rest of her life. That is why she must learn to obey me!”

“You care nothing for her happiness but only for your own,” Rena said. “You think only of trying to make yourself bigger and more important than you really are.”

“What did you say?”

Her temper was beginning to rise. “You heard exactly what I said. Love comes from the heart and only God can bestow it.”

At last he withdrew his gaze from the house, and turned to stare at her.

“Are you serious?” he asked. “Are you saying that love is something religious?”

“Of course it is,” Rena replied. “People search for it, hoping that if they can't find it in this life, they will do so in the world to come.”

“Stuff and nonsense! Marriage is what women are there for and to produce children who will carry on the name and position of their father.”

“That is what you think,” Rena retorted. “I believe that love comes from God. When we fall in love it is something holy and it mustn't be thrown aside by money, position or anything which is of importance in this world.”

He stared at her as though unable to believe his ears.

“I think you really believe all that stuff.”

“Passionately!”

He gave a grunt that might almost have been humorous.

“Well, maybe you think you do. You'll change your tune when you hear what I have to say.”

“Mr Wyngate, I am not interested in anything you have to say.”

“Everyone is interested in money, Mrs. Colwell. Or should I say, Miss Colwell?”

If he had hoped to disconcert her he was disappointed. To his astonishment Rena laughed.

“Miss is correct. My father was the vicar here until recently, now I'm Lord Lansdale's housekeeper. He invented a husband for me to prevent you thinking exactly what you are thinking.”

“You're very frank.”

“Ah, but I don't care in the least what you think of me, Mr Wyngate.” She could hardly believe that it was herself who had said those words. Was she really this cool, composed female who challenged this unpleasant man, and refused to let him disconcert her?

It was he who backed down, pretending not to hear her last remark.

“So your father was a clergyman. They always think that God will turn up at the last moment and do for them what they should have done for themselves a long time ago. But people who want money, have to fight for it.”

“And what about the people who don't want money, Mr Wyngate?”

“They don't exist,” he said savagely.

“They exist, but in a world you can't enter.” She added softly, “That's why you hate them.”

He swung round on her and the malevolence was there in his eyes again. She had flicked him on the raw this time.

“I don't hate them,” he said at last. “I despise them. Once you have money you can buy many things which make a human being happy.”

“Yes,” she said unexpectedly. “Many things. But not all. Your tragedy is that you don't know the difference.”

“What do you mean, tragedy?”

“The greatest tragedy in the world.”

“Don't feel sorry for me!” he screamed.

She didn't answer.

“Don't feel sorry for me,” he repeated emphatically.

“It's time I was going in.”

“Wait! I haven't said what I came to say to you. recognise you as a formidable woman. I respect that.”

She was silent.

“Name your price,” he said at last.

“Please stand aside and let me pass. I have work to do.”

“I said name your price. You can make it a high one. You're an obstacle in my way, and I'm prepared to remove you in a way that's pleasant to yourself. You get out of here and you can have a comfortable life on my money.”

“You don't really think you can bribe me?” she demanded. “You must have taken leave of your senses.”

“Look, there's no need for outraged virtue. I've said I'll pay you well, so don't waste my time with meaningless mouthings.”

Rena regarded him curiously, as she might have studied a loathsome insect.

“You'll – pay – well?” she mused.

“Extremely well.”

“That sounds splendid, but it isn't very specific.”

“So you want figures. Five thousand pounds.”

She laughed.

“Very well, ten thousand!”

“I thought you were a serious man, Mr Wyngate. Good day to you.”

She tried to move past him but he grasped her arm and snapped, “If I go higher than that I'll want more than your silence in return. Is that what you're after, you grasping little doxy?”

Before she could answer this insult he said something that took her breath away.

“Very well, you can have it. I'll set you up in a fine house in Park Lane. You can have jewels, servants, cash, a box at the opera, all the clothes you want. And you'll belong to me, any hour of the day or night that it pleases me.”

He meant it, she thought, her mind reeling. She had a wild desire to laugh. A moment ago she had felt insulted, but this was too monstrous for that.

And then came the wicked thought –

“I must share this joke with John. How we'll laugh together!”

She pulled herself together. Her own reprehensible amusement was surely the most shocking thing of all.

“There is no point in discussing this further,” she said. “I'm going now.”

“You'll discuss it as long as I want,” he shouted, tightening his hand on her arm.

“There is nothing to say,” she shouted back. “You do not appeal to me, sir. Is that plain enough for you?”

“Don't tell me my money doesn't appeal to you. What'll happen if you stay here? A drudge all your life, ending up destitute? You don't think he'll marry you, do you?”

She froze, meeting his eyes in horrified self-discovery.

How had this cruel demon put his finger on a secret buried so deep that she hadn't even seen it herself until now?

“All this fancy talk about love,” Wyngate sneered. “Weaving pretty dreams for yourself, aren't you? Dreams and nothing else. His mistress is all you'll ever be. He needs money and you don't have it.

“Well, if you can be his mistress, you can be mine, and I'll give you a better time than he could. I know how to treat a woman, you see – in bed and out of it.”

“Until you throw her out and she's just as destitute as before,” Rena snapped.

“Then you'll have to keep me happy so that I don't, won't you? By God, I'm going to enjoy owning you! What a fight of it we'll have, my lady. I'll enjoy that. I'll overcome you in the end, but it'll be a pleasure showing you who's the master. You're a worthy opponent, you see, and I haven't had one of those for a long time.”

Disgust had silenced her, but now she found her tongue.

“Let go of me at once,” she said breathlessly. “I will not be your mistress, now or ever. I will not accept your money on any pretext, and I will not be driven out.”

“Then we will be enemies,” he said coldly. “People who make an enemy of me always regret it. For your own sake, don't be my enemy, Miss Colwell.”

She met his eyes, refusing to back down.

“I have been your enemy since the moment I saw you,” she said with calm deliberation, “and I shall be your enemy until the moment of my death.”

“Which may be sooner than you think, if you continue to be so unwise.”

“Don't try to frighten me – ” she began.

And then she screamed.

For she had seen two of him.

Another Wyngate had appeared behind him, standing quietly, watching them.

In her overwrought state the sight terrified her as nothing else could have done.

“Shut up, damn you!” Wyngate raged.

For answer she pointed over his shoulder, screaming again and again. Wyngate turned to follow her finger, and then he grew very still, and his grasp on her relaxed enough for her to escape.

She ran for her life. The terrible sight seemed to have drained all the strength from her body, so that each step was an effort, but she kept going.

A turn in the road gave her the chance to look back, and what she saw increased her horror.

The two Wyngate s were walking towards each other.

She knew now what was going to happen. When these demons met they would merge into one. And if she saw it happen she would be damned.

She turned away and ran on, desperately, stumbling, falling, gasping, sobbing, desperate to reach the safety of the house, and John.

“John,” she cried. “John!”

And then, as though by some blessed miracle, he appeared through the French windows.

“Rena, what on earth – ? My poor girl, what is it?”

It was a blessed mercy to feel his strong, human arms about her, hear his down to earth voice that seemed to have the power to drive out that other, fearful world that had seemed to threaten her.

“Wyngate,” she gasped, “he was here.”

“He dared to come back?”

“Yes – he was in the grounds – he talked to me – such terrible things – but then – John, there were two of him.”

“I don't understand.”

“He was there twice. I was talking to him and then he appeared again behind himself.”

“Rena – ”

“No, no, I'm not mad. I saw it. There were two of him, and I screamed so hard that he let me go, and I ran away. And when I looked back they were walking towards each other.”

“Where was this?”

“Just past the bridge. You can see them from here.”

He looked over her head, and a slight frown came over his face. Then he walked forward to a place where he could get a better view, showing the land sweeping down to the stream, and beyond it the trees.

Rena came to stand beside him, and then she felt the hairs begin to stand up on the back of her neck.

There was nobody there.

“Are you sure you haven't been raiding the wine cellar?” John asked solicitously, as they went back inside. “You're very welcome, but it may not be doing you much good – no, no of course not,” he amended hastily, meeting her fulminating eye.

“John, I know what I saw.”

“You saw two copies of Wyngate, who merged into each other, and then vanished into thin air.”

“I didn't actually see them merge. I just knew they were going to.”

He looked at her.

“All right, I know what I sound like.”

“You sound like someone who's been under too much strain, and needs to have somebody else cook breakfast for her,” he said, shepherding her into the kitchen. “Now sit down. Clara has outdone herself this morning. Two beautiful eggs. What are you doing?”

She was moving towards the kettle.

“It's my job to make the breakfast.”

“And I've said I'm doing it, so sit down.”

“But – ”

“Sit!” he finished sternly, standing over her and wagging an admonitory finger.

“Yes John,” she said meekly.

How dear this practical man was, and how easily he could drive her fears away with his kindly common sense.

And oh, how much she loved him!

It had been there, waiting to spring out and surprise her all the time. Then Wyngate had thrust it brutally into the light, forcing her to face what otherwise she might have tried not to see.

For how could she love him? What future could they have, when he didn't love her, and knew his duty to his neighbours?

Those neighbours had always been her friends, kindly people who trusted her to do her best for them, as they had trusted her father. They had nursed her when she was ill, given to her out of their own poverty and refused to take a penny in return.

Now they needed something back from her.

It mustn't be Wyngate's daughter. She was more resolved on that than ever. But there were other heiresses. An Earl would have no trouble attracting them, especially if he was young and handsome with laughing eyes, a sweet temper and a kind heart. And in one of them he would find the woman he could truly love. That was as it should be.

“Here you are, my lady,” he said, serving up. While she had been lost in her dream he had made breakfast.