Ivory Innocence (22 page)

"I think I do," he said, and began to kiss her again. "You're so lovely, little wife of mine. Like an ivory statue. Only softer, and warmer. I feel like a bridegroom. Is this how it was? I'm lucky to be able to experience it twice. Ivory, darling Ivory."

She gave herself to the joy of being loved. It was a guilty joy, though, because she was stealing it from him. When he knew she had deceived him about their relationship, would he hate her even more than he had hated her before his accident?

The following day, they drove farther north toward the Yorkshire moors, with Janey in the back seat talking excitedly about the coming holiday. Once more Ivory was prey to a flood of alternating hopes and fears as she followed the same route Matthew had used on their honeymoon journey. But this time he seemed content just to watch the scenery of soft greens counterpointed with scarlet and tan in the trees. Occasionally he laid his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently, and she glanced round to exchange a smile with him. They were almost reliving their honeymoon, the way it should have been the first time, without the animosity that had dogged their original journey.

They reached the cottage by mid-afternoon. Ivory had asked Mrs. Wheeler to prepare for their arrival but not to bother baking; she herself intended to do all the cooking, to provide a real family life for Matthew and Janey.

"Oh, it's lovely!" Janey exclaimed, rushing around to look at everything. "Which is my room? Can I go upstairs?"

She scampered away, while Matthew stood in the middle of the kitchen taking a low, slow look all around him. Ivory watched, her heart thudding.

At last he looked at her, trying to conceal his disappointment. "What's this place called?"

"I'm not sure. You christened it Honeymoon Cottage the first time we came."

His smile was bleak. "Appropriate, I suppose. Now we're here on a second honeymoon. For a moment I thought—something about the smell of the place. But it's gone, whatever it was."

"You must let it take its own time," she said.

"I know, but it's so damnably… Sometimes I think I'm on the verge of remembering, then it's as if the curtain falls again. Like being lost in impenetrable fog. I even wonder if I really want to remember. The doctor did say that amnesia sometimes happens because the patient has been through some trauma that he wants to forget. Is that how it was with me? Did that bump on the head give me an opportunity that I grabbed to slip into limbo?"

Ivory ran to him, clasping her arms around him to hold him tightly. "Whatever it was, it doesn't matter. We'll be quiet here. Just you and me and Janey. You can go walking, and sketching, if you like. I've brought the materials."

"Sketching?" He reached into the back pocket of his slacks and took out his wallet, opening it to extract a sheet of folded paper. It was his sketch of her. "Did I do this myself?"

"Yes, apparently you did." Her hand trembled as she took the paper from him, seeing the simple line drawing that managed to make her look beautiful. "It's flattering."

"If it is, it's probably because I looked at you with the eyes of a lover. Personally, I don't think it does you justice."

She refolded the paper, keeping her head bent. If he knew she was crying again he would wonder why, and she just might have to tell him. She escaped on the pretext of looking for Janey.

Days filled with autumn color followed. On the moor the heather was dying, turning dark brown. The bracken beside the stream glowed orange, and the sycamores dripped golden leaves that shimmered in the sunlight.

Now and then Matthew's impatience came to the surface, but mostly he was careful to hide it. Ivory was aware of it simmering beneath the apparent calm. If he had just accepted his condition, he wouldn't have been Matthew. Nevertheless, she was surprised by his forbearance. But the slow, simple life of the cottage seemed to soothe him, and at night he found respite in her arms. Whatever the future held, she knew she would never regret those nights—or those days when she was simply his wife and Janey's mother.

One evening, as she washed the dishes after seeing Janey safely to bed, Matthew came in looking for a screwdriver to fix a wobbly hinge on the sitting room door.

"I think there are some tools in that far drawer," Ivory said.

She heard him rooting in the drawer, then there was a silence that made her glance round. Her heart almost stopped as she saw what he had in his hand: the jewelry box she had thrown into that drawer after he left her alone at the cottage. Hardly daring to breathe, she watched as he opened the box and looked at the pendant inside it.

"That's a strange place to keep jewelry," he said slowly. "Is it yours?"

"Yes."

Her voice was so faint that he looked up sharply and saw how pale she had grown. "Why is it in a tool drawer?"

"I threw it in there. I was angry. I'd forgotten all about it until—"

For a split second she fancied she saw the blue demon glare at her, then it was gone and Matthew said, "Why were you angry?"

"Because—because you had been called away on business. In the middle of our honeymoon. That pendant seemed like an easy way of placating me. I wasn't thinking straight. I just hurled it into the first drawer that came to hand and—and forgot about it."

Very slowly, he picked the pendant out of its box, letting it dangle from its chain. He walked across the kitchen and fastened the emerald round her neck, his fingers caressing her skin. Cupping her face in both hands, he looked somberly down into her eyes. "Am I such an ogre?"

"No!" She flung her arms round his neck and clung to him, her face against his throat. "Sometimes there's a devil that gets into you, that's all. But I'm not perfect myself. I love you just the way you are."

"I love you, too," he said, his arms tightening around her. "I'll just fix that hinge and… Shall we have an early night?"

Ivory concurred, but her happiness was spoiled, as it always was, by the guilt that grew worse with every day that passed. He said he loved her, but she didn't know if it was true. He used the phrase as a convention, when what he meant was that he wanted her—as he had once made her say to him. Matthew in his right senses scorned the word love. He had made that very clear. And if he didn't soon remember, she would have to tell him. This false happiness was tearing her apart.

The following morning, while she helped Janey with sums, Matthew went out with his sketchbook. Ivory was so absorbed in watching the way her stepdaughter's mind was expanding that she failed to notice the weather until the light in the kitchen grew so gloomy she almost needed to switch on a light. Alarmed, she saw mist floating across the windows. It had crept up suddenly, as it could do on the moors.

"Stay here, Janey," she said hurriedly. "I'm just going out to see if I can see Daddy coming. It's nearly time for lunch."

Throwing on an anorak, she went out into the creeping gray ness that cloaked the valley. She began to walk to where the track petered out in short grass, but paused and looked back as the sound of an engine reached her. A car came slowly up the track and stopped a few yards from where she stood transfixed with dismay. It was a low red sports car.

"Well, this really is the back of beyond, isn't it?" Carla Forsythe said, strolling toward Ivory with a smile that had no warmth in it.

"What are you doing here?" Ivory demanded, her throat suddenly thick with apprehension. Carla could ruin everything.

"I came to see Matthew, of course," the redhead said. She wore a pink track suit with very tight pants and a blouse fastened by tiestrings at waist and neck, the hood thrown back to reveal her bright hair. "Though I must say, you've hidden him away pretty well. Even knowing the address I've had a terrible time finding this place."

"Who gave you the address?" Ivory managed.

Carla looked her up and down, her green eyes glittering with malice. "Your gullible Mrs. Barnes, of course. I told her I wanted to send a get-well card, but I was coming up here for a break, anyway—I've got friends in Scarborough—so I thought I'd bring my good wishes in person. Where is he?"

"Out. Out walking."

"In this weather?" The green eyes grew round with amazement. "My dear girl, is he fit enough to be traipsing around the moors in a fog? Alone?"

"He's perfectly fit." Ivory was trembling, her hands clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. "Carla, you'll have to leave. You can't see him yet. There isn't any point. He won't know you."

"I'm aware of that. But hasn't it occurred to you that the sight of me might jog his memory? I've known him for a very long time, you know. Or does it suit you better to have him totally under your control? Isn't that why you took him away from Hedley Hall?"

"No, it isn't. Please, Carla. Please go away. You'll only upset him."

The redhead's eyes narrowed, then flicked beyond Ivory's pale face. Her malicious smile reappeared. "Too late, I'm afraid. Here he comes now."

She set off up the track, where Matthew's tall figure was visible as he came slowly down from the moor. He had had the foresight to take a sheepskin jacket with him, for which Ivory was thankful. But her head seemed about to burst with the terror of what Carla's arrival might do. She herself began to walk up the track, knowing that nothing could stop Carla from creating whatever mischief she had planned.

"Darling, hello!" Carla called as she came within hailing distance of Matthew. "Your wife's furious with me, but I told her you wouldn't mind a visit from an old friend."

"Old friend?" Matthew's voice came to Ivory. His eyes sought her and he walked past Carla, who turned to trot beside him.

"I'm Carla," she told him. "Carla Forsythe. Don't you remember?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Matthew said, making straight for Ivory. He slipped an arm round her shoulders and bent to kiss her tenderly. "Hello, darling. Sorry I've been so long. Were you worried?"

"Yes, a little bit," she confessed, hugging him. "You're cold."

"I'm fine," he said, smiling down at her.

Carla's mouth had pinched into a moue of spiteful-ness. "This is a tender scene, Matthew, but you ought to know your wife isn't the perfect little helpmeet she appears to be. I don't doubt she's been putting up a good show, but has she told you she only married you for your money? She came as your daughter's nanny, and got her greedy little hooks into you within a few weeks. When you found out what she was really like, you left her."

Held in the grip of an awful panic, Ivory stared up at her husband's face, her arms locked round his waist as if she could protect him from Carla's words. She saw him frown with puzzlement.

"Did you say you were an old friend?" he asked Carla.

"Of very long standing," she replied meaningfully. "In fact, if this little golddigger hadn't come along, I'd probably be your wife by now."

Matthew's frown deepened, but his voice was calm enough. "Then all I can say is, thank God Ivory saved me from that fate. You've been here five minutes, and in that short time you've tried to wreck my marriage and put doubts into a mind that's confused enough already. You're no friend of mine, Miss… whatever your name is."

"My God!" Carla got out. "She's really conned you, hasn't she? Well, when you do finally come to your senses, don't come running to me for consolation. I've had it with you, Matthew Kendrake." She glared at Ivory, who was nestled close in her husband's arms. "I wish you joy of each other," was her parting jibe as she swung away to stride back to her car.

Ivory rubbed her face on the soft lapel of Matthew's coat, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh, Matthew!" she said brokenly. "I hope you won't ever regret that. In a way, she's right. I haven't been entirely honest with—"

His hand lifted her chin and his lips prevented the confession she had been about to make. She let herself enjoy his embrace one last bittersweet time before she told him the truth. She had to tell him now, whatever came of it.

But it seemed that he didn't want her to speak. One hand held her head in a viselike grip and his other arm was so tight about her she could hardly breathe. His mouth had become savage; his body was rigid against hers. The despair she sensed in him frightened her.

When he lifted his head, she stared at him through a film of tears, and opened her mouth to say something. It died in her throat as she saw the expression on his face. The bitter lines about his lips; the glinting blue eyes—they belonged to a Matthew who remembered all that lay between them, a Matthew whose devil had come back.

She eased herself away from him, her heart pounding in her throat. "Matthew? You remember?"

"Everything," he said hoarsely, turning his shoulder to her as he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his sheepskin and stared at the mist. "When I saw the clouds coming… I remembered looking for you that time. The rest followed as though someone had turned a switch. Good God"— he dashed a hand through his hair distractedly—"why didn't you
tell
me?"

Hopelessly, she slumped inside her jacket. The mist seemed twice as cold, swirling round them as if they were trapped in some netherworld of grayness. "There didn't seem to be any point. I didn't want to deceive you, but they told me to let you remember in your own good time. I can't apologize for it. I know I've stolen these last few days from you, but—"

"
You
have?" He whirled on her, his face contorted with anguish. "
I'm
the one who's been taking everything. After the way I treated you, you ought to have left me to stew!"

"Matthew, no!"

"Yes! Don't be kind any longer, for God's sake. I remember the way I behaved. I don't deserve what you've done for me, Ivory. I'm grateful, but— Dear heaven, is there any wonder I blanked it all out?" He walked to the stone wall that surrounded the cottage and sat down there, his head in his hands.

"But it was my own fault," she said, following him. "Please, Matthew, I'm not being kind, I'm being honest. My motives for coming back to the Hall
were
muddled. I admit that. I had a crazy idea I could even the score. But that isn't why I married you. I realized it wasn't important anymore, even before I found out the truth."