trembling lips together, she held up her head. ‘So,’ she said, adopting a deliberately mild tone, ‘why don’t you tell me about your wife? Who is she? Do I know her?’
Matthew gave her a contemptuous look. ‘Why should I talk to you about my wife?’ he demanded. ‘You don’t have to humour me, Olivia. I won’t embarrass you in front of your parents, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’
Olivia sighed. ‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ she retorted heavily. ‘For heaven’s sake, Matt, I’m just trying to find some common ground between us. Something we can talk about, without ending up at one another’s throats——’
‘And do you imagine talking about my marriage will accomplish that?’ Matthew demanded scathingly. ‘I hardly think so. Still, Helen is nothing like you, I can tell you that.’
‘Helen?’ Olivia frowned. ‘Not—Helen Berrenger?’
‘No. Helen Ryan,’ said Matthew succinctly. ‘We’ve been married nearly ten years.’
‘You mean …’
But Olivia found she couldn’t go on. It was too painful. To think that he must have married Helen only months after they split up! It hurt. Helen Berrenger, she thought disbelievingly. Helen, who had always been more interested in horses than anything else. But eminently suitable, she couldn’t deny that. Her lineage went back almost as far as Matthew’s, and her father, Conrad Berrenger, owned a string of racehorses, as well as a generous portion of the county.
Her silence was noticeable, and eventually Matthew cast a glance in her direction. ‘Well?’ he demanded harshly. ‘What did you expect? An undying commitment?’
‘No!’ Olivia was defensive. ‘Of course not. But—Helen Berrenger!’
‘Why not?’ Matthew’s dark brows ascended. ‘I wasn’t about to make another mistake.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, Helen would never have done what you did,’ he retorted coldly. ‘She understands about things like—honour—and integrity.’
‘And I don’t, is that it?’ Olivia flared, using some of the hurt she was feeling to fuel her defence. ‘Oh, don’t tell me—it’s the old class system, isn’t it? My father is only one of your father’s tenants, so naturally I don’t have the right pedigree——’
‘Don’t you dare say that,’ Matthew overrode her angrily. ‘And don’t think you can assuage your own guilt by turning it on me. You know damn well there was never any question of your not being good enough for my family. Both my parents liked you, you know that. You were always made to feel at home at Rycroft. Hell, they were as shocked as I was when you walked out!’
‘Even so——’
‘Even so nothing. Any contempt they feel for you now is entirely justified. My God, my father actually wanted me to go after you. He offered to pay my fare, so I could try and persuade you to come back.’
Olivia swallowed. ‘But you didn’t.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Matthew’s lips twisted. ‘I still had some pride. And besides, your grandmother told me your leaving wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. Apparently, you’d been planning it for some time.’
‘That’s not—oh!’
Olivia pressed a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from voicing the instinctive denial. What good would it do now to try and explain herself? How could she explain herself, without betraying the very people she had gone away to protect? It was ironic, really, that Matthew’s father should have wanted him to go after her. But then, he was as ignorant of his responsibilities as Matthew himself.
‘That’s not what?’ Matthew asked now, as the traffic thinned, and he was able to give her more of his attention. ‘The way it was? Well? How was it? You tell me. Tell me how you came to get that job with the Kramers, if you didn’t answer an advertisement?’ He grimaced. ‘An advertisement I knew nothing about.’
Olivia sighed. What was the point? she thought tiredly. She could have explained that her brother, Andrew, had met Stephen Kramer, when they were at school, and that, although Stephen was older, when his family had moved away to London the two of them had kept in touch, but she didn’t. It was probably better if Matthew continued to believe what her grandmother had told him. Although she might feel better if he stopped hating her, what would that really achieve?
‘All right,’ she said, twisting to stare out of the window. ‘I behaved badly. I admit it. But——’ her skin prickled ‘—as you and Helen got together so—quickly, I probably did you a favour.’ She turned her head. ‘Didn’t I?’
A pulse in Matthew’s jaw was beating rapidly, but he didn’t say anything. He just gave her a contemptuous look, and Olivia had to be content with knowing she had averted any chance of a reconciliation.
They left the M3 at Winchester, and after circling the old Roman town took the road to Abbot’s Norton. They didn’t stop again, even though Olivia would have welcomed another drink, and by half-past eleven they were cresting the hill that ran down into Lower Mychett.
It was all achingly familiar now, and Olivia had to press the palms of her hands together to prevent herself from revealing how nervous she was. She had to force herself to sit still, too. The need to pluck the legs of her trousers away from her damp body was almost overwhelming.
Lower Mychett lay in some of the most beautiful countryside in England, and as Matthew drove down the winding road to the village Olivia had plenty of time to absorb the view. The grey spire of the church was still the most obvious landmark, with the River Mychett embracing the churchyard, before flowing under Fox Bridge. The river divided Lower Mychett from its neighbour, Upper Mychett, and the Rycroft estate owned most of both.
Fortunately, as it was almost lunchtime, there were not a lot of people about, although there were children playing outside the post office cum general stores, and several old people were seated on the bench beside the green. Of course, they all recognised Matthew’s car, thought Olivia bitterly, as he raised his hand again, in acknowledgement of someone’s greeting. Everyone knew and respected the Ryans. And not just because they controlled the village’s livelihood.
‘Isn’t that Jenny Mason?’ exclaimed Olivia, suddenly, stung out of her reticence by the sight of a girl she had once gone to school with, wheeling a twin pushchair containing two toddlers across the street. A third child, of perhaps four or five, trailed along behind, and Olivia stared at her disbelievingly, hardly recognising her friend.
‘That’s right,’ said Matthew flatly, apparently realising that they were nearing their destination, and that he would have to appear to be sociable for her parents’ sake. ‘Except that she’s Jenny Innes now. She married your brother’s friend, Tony.’
Olivia shook her head. ‘Jenny married Tony Innes,’ she echoed blankly. ‘But she was the cleverest girl in the class. I thought she was going to university. She always wanted to be a teacher.’
‘Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?’ observed Matthew, his hands flexing on the steering-wheel. ‘She obviously thought more about Innes than getting a degree.’ He shrugged. ‘Some people do the craziest things when they’re in love.’
Olivia
