The Guilty Wife (10 page)

After he'd rolled off her, he drew her to him and said, 'What is it, Lucie, my love? What's the matter?'

"The matter?' She tried to sound puzzled. 'Why, nothing; I'm fine.' She yawned. 'Tired, though. Goodnight, darling.'

'But it wasn't good for you,' Seton stated.

Lucie went to protest, but then said, 'I'm sorry.'

'Oh, Lucie, I don't want you to apologise! Maybe it's being pregnant. When are you due to see the doctor?'

'Tomorrow morning.'

'Then promise me you'll ask him for something to help.'

'I'm not ill,' she objected.

'Promise me,' Seton persisted.

'Oh, all right.'

But when Lucie went to keep her appointment she didn't mention being tired. What was the point? There was nothing the doctor could give her that would take this terrible burden of secrecy and dread from her. During that week two more fax messages came from Rick, and also a letter delivered by hand one lunchtime when she was collecting Sam from nursery school. He was, Lucie realised, playing cat and mouse with her. The messages made it clear that he had been watching her; he knew the make and colour of her little red Fiat, said he liked her new hairstyle. The letter referred to Sam. 'Nice little kid you've got. Pity his life is going to be spoilt.'

When Lucie read that she seethed with rage. No one was going to harm her son. No one!

That evening Seton hurried home as he was due to play in the first round of his Draw for a Partner tournament with Anna. His parents came round to babysit and they drove to the club. Seton no longer had the Jaguar; he had traded it in for a Range Rover soon after Sam was born as it was so much more convenient. Lucie sat at the side to watch as the two couples played. It was an indoor court, brightly lit, and as all four players were good there were quite a few spectators. Anna looked good in tennis gear; she was dark-haired so could wear white, and had long legs that she kept always tanned, her little tennis skirt flicking up as she ran around the court. She and Seton looked to be enjoying themselves; Anna often put her hand on his arm, leaning close as they discussed their game strategy. But then Anna was a tactile sort of person; everyone she liked was treated as an intimate friend, especially men. Lucie knew that, knew that she had nothing to fear, but couldn't prevent a quiver of jealousy running through her.

Anna and Seton won the
first
set, but lost the second on a tie-break. During the rest period before the last set they sat at the side of the court and Lucie saw Anna lean towards Seton, her head dose to his as she said something, a mischievous smile on her face. Seton listened, then stiffened, his eyes searching the spectators till he found Lucie. She smiled encouragingly back, but to her surprise Seton frowned before giving a brief nod. The game started again, but Seton seemed to want the match to end, because he sent powerhouse aces and volleys spinning across the net. Unreturnable, they won the last set hi a very short time.

Lucie went to the bar to wait white he showered and changed, but he joined her within just a few minutes, still in his tennis clothes and carrying his sports bag. 'Let's go,' he bit out.

'But I've got you a drink.' She looked at him in surprise, then saw that there was a set look to his chin and knew that something had happened to upset him. 'What is it?'

Taking hold of her elbow, he pulled her to her feet. 'Forget the drink. Come on.'

She went with him to the car and got in as he threw the bag in the back. Lucie looked at him with foreboding, wondering what on earth had happened, but he kept his eyes on the road and was silent, his mouth dosed in a grim line. He didn't drive home but took a road that ted to open country and turned off into a lane that ended in a local beauty spot, on a high piece of ground overlooking a valley—a beautiful view in the daytime but lost now in the darkness.

Flicking on the overhead light, Seton turned to face her. 'Do you mind telling me why you told Anna you were pregnant when we haven't even told my parents yet, when it hasn't even been confirmed?'

So that was it. Lucie cursed Anna for her indiscretion. 'She wanted me to go on the tennis-club committee,' Lucie explained. 'I said no, but she kept on and on about it. In the end I had to tell her.'

She expected him to understand, to forgive her at once, but his face didn't relax any. Lucie could understand his being annoyed, because they'd agreed to keep it a secret until they knew for sure, but she didn't think that it was such a terrible thing to have done, that it warranted so much anger. It didn't. It was the other thing that Anna had said that had made him angry.

'And what's all this about me sending you red roses with a sexy message?' Seton demanded. 'You don't even like red roses.'

'It was a mistake,' Lucie said hurriedly. 'The florist sent them to the wrong house. I rang them and they came and collected them. They were very apologetic.' She was protesting too much, Lucie knew, but she felt so afraid that she couldn't help it.

Still frowning, Seton said, 'But Anna said the florist asked for you by name.'

Groaning inwardly, Lucie found another lie. 'Yes, that was the mistake; they were for another Mrs Wallace. In the next village. Not for me .at all,' she said firmly. Desperately she went from defence to attack. 'Why, what were you thinking?'

Seton gave a short laugh and pushed his hair off his forehead. 'I didn't know what to think,' he admitted. 'It was just so strange that someone had sent you flowers and you'd said nothing about it, that I'd never even
seen
the things at home.'

Lucie managed to give him a pert smile. 'Why, Mr Wallace, I do believe you're jealous!'

'Of course I'm damn well jealous,' he retorted, reaching out for her. 'I know when I'm on to a good thing, and I don't want anyone else trying to take over.'

'As if they could,' Lucie murmured. She put her face against his throat. 'You smell of sweat.'

'Sorry. I was in rather a hurry to find out what it was all about.'

'So I noticed. Idiot. I rather like you all sweaty; it makes me think of cavemen bringing home a dinosaur for dinner.'

'It does, huh?' Reaching up, he turned off the light, then pulled her across his lap. 'I bet you looked lovely when you were little. What a pity you don't have any photographs of yourself when you were young,' he said with true regret. He had undone the buttons of her blouse and pulled aside the strap of her bra so that he could kiss her shoulder.

'I told you, they all got destroyed in a fire.' Which was near enough true. One of her father's girlfriends had once flown into a tantrum of jealousy and had burnt all the photos of Lucie and her mother. Seton wasn't really listening; he had found her nipple and was gently teasing it into hard awareness. 'When was the last time we made love in the car?'

'Seton! We can't. We're an old married couple. Only people who're desperate do that kind of thing.'

'In that case we definitely have to do it.' He guided her hand to touch him. 'Because I am very, very desperate, my love.'

When they got home Seton told his parents about the baby. They were, of course, over the moon, and stayed for ages, excitedly discussing the news. Seton opened a bottle of champagne and they drank to a successful pregnancy, his mother saying as she lifted her glass to Lucie, 'You've made us so happy, my dear. We couldn't possibly have hoped for a better wife for Seton, for a more perfect daughter-in-law.'

Lucie went over to kiss her, feeling a complete hypocrite, realising that if the truth ever came out it would rum not only Seton's and Sam's lives but also those of his parents. The new baby's too, probably. There was so much at stake, so much happiness that would be lost.

When they'd gone, Seton said, 'How about drinking the rest of the champagne in bed?' She laughed and stood up.

'Warm champagne?' ‘I’ll cool it off in some ice for a few minutes.' Lucie undressed and got into bed to wait for him. But, as always when she was alone, her mind went feverishly back to Rick and his threats. She realised that his phone call, the fax messages and letters were all part of a programme of victimisation, intended to wear her down and make her afraid. But they had all come to the house when she was alone, so it would seem that Rick's intention wasn't to include Seton in this. Lucie had no idea why, but the thought gave her a little comfort. Her mind began to drift and she turned onto her side. When Seton came up with the champagne a few minutes later, she was already fast asleep.

He teased her about it a few days later as they drove down to spend the weekend with friends at their cottage in Wales. The other couple had three children, the youngest a little older than Sam, and the two days were pretty hectic as they did a lot of sailing, walking and had barbecues in the evenings. Seton wanted to make love, but Lucie put him off, saying that the walls were too thin and the others would hear.

'We'll be very quiet,' he urged.

'No, the bed creaks.'

'We could go outside,' he suggested hopefully.

'No. What would they think?'

'They'd think I was a very lucky man.'

'Well, you're not going to be lucky tonight, so go to steep.'

'Tyrant,' he complained. 'Wait till I get you home.'

But when they did get home and he made love to her it was too late. Lucie tried to be receptive, tried to respond as she had always done, but she was too tense. There had been a small pile of letters on the mat and Seton had picked them up and flicked through them, passing one over to her; the address had been written in a hand that she recognised.

'One for you.'

Quickly Lucie had slipped it into the pocket of her jeans and run up the stairs to put Sam to bed, hiding the letter hi a drawer. When she came down Seton had already gone through his post, and casually said, 'Who was your letter from?'

'Aunt Kate's neighbour,' Lucie lied. 'Just to tell me that everything at her house is OK.'

Seton raised his eyebrows. 'Don't you usually speak to her on the phone?'

'She—she enclosed a postcard Aunt Kate had sent her; she thought I might like to see it,' Lucie improvised. There had been no opportunity to read the letter that evening, but she could think of nothing else, and certainly couldn't relax now they were making love.

Seton must have felt it. He put his hand on her face, said her name questioningly. Not wanting him to think that anything was wrong, Lucie kissed him— and then, God help her, pretended to feelings that had always come completely naturally before. She gasped and cried out as she would have done ordinarily, but it was all a sham, an act, done only to keep him happy.

When it was over, Seton rolled onto his back, then said, 'Am I losing my touch, Lucie?'

Immediately she knew that he had seen through her, but, biting her lip, she tried to brazen it out. 'What a thing to say! Of course not.'

Sitting up, he thumbed the switch on the bedside lamps, then swung round to look down at her. "Then just why did you find it necessary to pretend what you didn't feel?' There wasn't anger in his tone, but his voice was full of puzzlement and harsh concern.

Because she felt so wretched about it, Lucie turned guilt into attack. 'I
wanted
to feel something. Do you think
I
didn't? It's not my fault if I couldn't.'

'I didn't say it was. But why pretend?'

'Because I didn't want to spoil it for you, of course.' Lucie's tone was belligerent. 'Surely you can see that? But if you don't like it, then next time I won't bother!'

She went to turn onto her side, but Seton put his hand on her shoulder to hold her still. 'No, Lucie, I don't like it. If you're too tired to make love or you just don't feel like it, then OK, I understand and I accept it, but please don't insult us both by pretending an excitement you don't feel. Can't you see that such a false act, such a physical lie, belittles what we have, what has always been wonderful and true between us?' Putting his arm round her, he lifted her so that she was leaning her head against his bare shoulder. 'Darling,' he said forcefully, 'even less do I like the fact that you couldn't feel anything. I'm getting worried about you; you just haven't been yourself lately. You must realise it.'

Knowing how insistent, how determined he could be, Lucie began to be afraid and said waspishly, 'All this just because the sex wasn't good enough for you.'

His hand tightened on her arm. 'Since when did it become sex and not love?' he demanded, his voice rough. Lucie bit her lip, hating herself, and said in a more conciliatory tone, 'Look, I'm sorry. OK? Now can we please go to sleep?'

'No, darling, not yet. We really do have to sort this out.'

'There's nothing to sort out,' she said shortly, and tried to push herself away from him, her hand against his chest. She was hi mental torture and desperately sought for a means of escape from his questions. 'Seton, I've had enough of this. I'm not—'

'Perhaps it's being pregnant. Although you were absolutely fine when you were having Sam.'

She grew still, realising that he had handed her an excuse on a plate. It would again mean taking advantage of a lie, of course, but by now Lucie was so despairing that she was ready to grab at any straw. She let out a long breath.

'Oh. Oh, do you think so?'

'It is the only thing that's different, isn't it?'

She nodded, avoiding another outright lie, and said cautiously, 'Being well last time doesn't necessarily mean I'll be the same this time, I suppose. And I— I do feel pretty low.'

'You must go and see the doctor again.'

'I've already
seen
him once.'

"Then maybe you ought to see a gynaecologist,' Seton suggested.

'Surely that isn't necessary?' Lucie protested. 'I'D probably feel better before too long.'

'But why on earth wait and be miserable when you could get some help and be happy again? If you won't make an appointment to see the doctor, then I will, and I'll take you there myself,' Seton threatened. Knowing she was beaten, and afraid that he might even insist on going to see the doctor with her, Lucie said stiffly,

'That won't be necessary. I shall phone for an appointment tomorrow.'