He lifted his glass. 'Success and happiness, Adrien.'
As the words echoed round the table, and they drank to her, Adrien saw Arlena Travis's brows lift, and the other women exchanging surprised looks with their husbands. She bent her head, her skin warming with faint colour. She had not expected such a public dismissal.
'There's one more thing.' Chay reached into an inside pocket in his dinner jacket and extracted a slim flat box. He walked round the table to Adrien's side.
'I have a farewell present for you,' he said. 'A keepsake to remind you of all the time we've spent together.' He put the box on the table in front of her. His face was still, his eyes unreadable. Her fingers shook as she removed the lid, because she knew what she was going to see and she didn't know how to deal with it. She made a small choked sound as the dark red stones of the garnet pendant gleamed up at her, and Chay lifted it from its white satin bed and fastened its slender golden chain round her neck.
'The original clasp was faulty,' he said. 'But I've had it fixed.'
She had almost forgotten how beautiful it was. How the stones seemed to possess their own inner flame. She looked down, watching them shimmer against her pale skin, and touched them with one finger delicately, fearfully, as if they might burn.
'Thank you.' Her voice was a stranger's. I never expected—anything like this.'
She looked up at him, searching his cool, enigmatic face, begging silently for enlightenment. But he turned away and went back to his seat.
'My stars.' Arlena Travis leaned forward. 'That is one glorious piece of jewellery, honey.' She gave it the shrewd look of a connoisseur, then nodded.
'And very old, as well as valuable. Does it have a history?'
'Oh, yes.' It was Margaret Stretton who spoke, her tone reflective. 'Originally it was bought by a young man as a birthday gift for the girl he wanted to marry. But his parents, rightly or wrongly, felt she was too young to make such a serious commitment, and that any mention of marriage might even scare her away.'
Adrien realised she had almost stopped breathing. She found herself staring at the older woman as if she was mesmerised.
'There were other obstacles, too,' Margaret Stretton went on. 'Quite serious ones. So it was agreed it would be safer to offer the pendant as simply a family gift, without strings, and that the young man should start to woo her gently and without pressure.'
She sighed. 'But unfortunately it all went wrong, and instead they parted in great bitterness.'
She smiled round the table. 'Not a very happy story, but all in the past. It certainly doesn't matter any more. And I'm glad the pendant's found a good home at last.'
And what about me? Adrien wanted to shout aloud, her hands gripping each other in her lap until her fingers ached. Don't I matter any more either?
Well, she had the answer to that round her throat. The pendant was a farewell gift. What was sometimes known as a 'kiss-off—except that there hadn't been that many kisses...
As a mistress, she'd hardly even registered, she acknowledged with a wry twist of her heart. She stared across at Chay, willing him to look at her, but he was talking to Nathalie Byron and she could only see his profile, strong but oddly remote. Unreachable, she thought as pain wrenched at her.
She pushed back her chair and rose, a smile pinned on. 'Ladies, I think our coffee will be in the drawing room by now. Shall we go?'
It was not an easy interlude. No one asked Adrien directly why she was leaving, but she could feel curiosity simmering around her and she poured the coffee and handed the cups, and smiled and chatted as if she didn't have a care in the world. Barbara James came and sat with her, talking generally and gently about the restoration of the house, and the problems it had thrown up, then asking for advice on the re-decoration of a rather cold north-facing bathroom in her London home.
Adrien responded gratefully, thankful for a question she could actually answer. When Barbara moved on, her place was taken by Arlena Travis.
'I've come for a closer look at that necklace,' she announced, putting on her glasses. 'Antique jewellery is my passion, so I guess my husband is real glad someone beat him to this piece.'
She gave a deep sigh of appreciation. 'That is some love-token, honey. Now, I'd have done the conventional thing and picked emeralds to go with your hair. But these rubies are just so right for you, somehow. And with that dress— magnificent.'
Adrien put down her coffee cup very carefully on the table in front of her.
She said politely, 'I'm sorry, Mrs. Travis. I don't quite understand. These are garnets.'
Mrs. Travis gave her an old-fashioned look.
'Oh, come on, honey, are you crazy? These are rubies, and particularly fine ones, too.' She patted Adrien's hand. 'But if you won't take my word for it just get them appraised for insurance. You'll find out.'
Adrien's lips felt numb. She managed, 'I'll be sure and do that.' She gave her companion a meaningless smile and got to her feet. 'Would you excuse me, please?'
She walked across the room to Margaret Stretton. She said, 'Would you take over for me, Mrs. Stretton? I—I have a splitting headache and I'd like to go to my room.'
She didn't wait for the reply, just murmuring a general goodnight before she fled.
Safety upstairs, she shut her door behind her and leaned against it, gasping for breath.
Rubies, she thought, her mind reeling. When she was eighteen, Chay had bought her rubies. But hadn't told her. Had let her think the pendant was just a semi-precious trinket.
He couldn't steal his own gift, so why had the pendant vanished, to resurface in his room?
It was Piers, she thought, her throat tightening. How couldn't she have seen it before? Piers, who would also have known the real value of the pendant. And Piers, because it had ostensibly come from Angus Stretton, would have regarded it as part of his inheritance. And resented it being given away.
He'd clearly had no idea that Chay was his cousin. He'd been and always would be 'the housekeeper's bastard'.
But stealing the pendant and planting it in Chay's room must have seemed an ideal way of ridding himself permanently of a hated rival. Because of the value of the stones, Chay would be bound to be arrested. That was how Piers would have reasoned. And, as a bonus, it would drive a permanent wedge between Chay and the girl he loved. Destroy the new understanding that had arisen since his previous attempt to separate them. And it hadn't been because Piers had ever wanted her for herself, she realised. Right to the end she'd simply been someone he could use. Even when he'd arrived at the cottage the previous day he'd been able to rum it to his advantage.
And I fell for it, she acknowledged miserably. But why, when everyone knew the truth about the pendant, was he allowed to get away with it? It makes no sense.
Why hadn't Angus Stretton challenged him and thrown him out? And why had Chay been sent away when he was guiltless?
She began to walk up and down the room, her arms wrapped tightly round her body.
She remembered the snatches of conversation between her parents, the harsh, damaging comments that she'd assumed alluded to Chay. But it had been Piers they'd been talking about. Piers who had always been demanding money. Piers who was dangerous.
She thought desolately, How could I have been so wrong—so blind?
There was still so much she didn't know. And now she probably never would discover the whole tangled truth.
She undressed and put on her robe, but she didn't get into bed. She felt too wretched and too restless, and sleep was a million miles away. Instead she curled up on the window seat and stared out into the darkness, unhappy thoughts chasing themselves round in her head.
Eventually she heard the sound of voices as the rest of the party came upstairs to bed. And then, shortly afterwards, there was a quiet tap at the door.
'Adrien?' It was Margaret Stretton's voice. 'Are you all right? May I come in?'
For a moment Adrien was sorely tempted to stay quiet, and pretend she was asleep. Then she realised that the light from her lamp would be visible under the door, so she padded across and turned the handle.
'We were concerned about you.' Mrs. Stretton walked into the room. T wondered if you'd like some hot chocolate.'
Adrien said stiltedly, 'That's—kind of you. But, no, thanks.'
The grey eyes surveyed her keenly. 'Poor child,' she said gently. 'You've had so many shocks this weekend. I'm not surprised you had to run away.'
'I can't believe I didn't guess.' Adrien's tone was hushed, as if she was talking to herself. 'That I couldn't see Angus and Chay were father and son— when I thought I knew them both so well.'
'You weren't the only one,' Mrs. Stretton comforted her. 'And you weren't meant to know—not then. In fact, it was vitally important that no one did.'
'Especially—Piers Mendoza?'
'Yes,' Mrs. Stretton said heavily. 'Him above all.'
'But why?'
'Come and sit with me.' Margaret Stretton took Adrien's unwilling hand and led her back to the window seat.
'You never knew Angus's sister Helen,' she began. 'But she was the loveliest girl,-and only eighteen when she met Luiz Mendoza, Piers's father, and married him in spite of all Angus could do. He disliked him instinctively, you see, and distrusted him too. He felt that under all the good looks and charm there was genuine evil. Something he'd rarely encountered before.
'He made enquiries through, some high-powered connections of his and discovered that Luiz was a minor racketeer, with a finger in all kinds of unsavoury pies in Brazil, and a heavy gambler, a fool who lost more often than he won.
'When Piers was still a baby when Helen died—killed in a road accident, apparently by a hit-and-run driver. Her life had been heavily insured the year before by her husband.'
Adrien's hand went to her mouth. 'Oh, God—you mean...?'
Mrs. Stretton nodded. 'There was never any proof, but Angus knew that Luiz had arranged it. He'd already got through Helen's own money, and was badly in debt to some very nasty people.' She grimaced. 'Like father, like son.'
She was silent for a moment. 'Luiz knew that Angus's wife was in a private hospital, and would never give him another child, and that Piers was his sole male heir. Angus was convinced he would allow nothing and no one to stand in Piers's way, and he couldn't risk any further threat to his family. So Chay, for his own safety, had to be—the housekeeper's son.
'When Luiz died, Angus was prepared to give Piers a chance, for Helen's sake, but he soon discovered his mistake.' She shook her head. 'Piers might lack his father's complete ruthlessness, but he's adept at dirty tricks—and blackmail. He didn't guess the truth, but he recognised the affection between the two of them and set out to destroy it. Anyone that Angus loved was seen as a threat to his prospects. That's why he pretended to send both of us away and moved to Spain. To let Piers think he'd won.'
'You mentioned—blackmail... ?'
Margaret Stretton nodded. 'Piers guessed about us—Angus and I—and threatened to tell his wife. Ruth was so ill—not just physically, but mentally too. She used to have terrible fits of hysteria and depression, even attempting suicide at one point. Angus paid to protect her. To keep her illusions intact. Because she'd become convinced, you see, that one day there'd be a miracle cure and she'd come back—to her home and her marriage.'
There were sudden tears in her eyes. 'She had to be allowed to go on believing that for the short time she had left.'
'Yes,' Adrien said slowly. 'But—it must have been very hard on Chay—as well as you.'
Margaret Stretton smiled. 'Chay is a realist, like me. And he was always determined to carve out his own path to success. He knew, as well, that Piers would never keep the Grange. That he only had to be patient.'
Adrien bit her lip. 'Yes,' she said. 'He's been very— patient.'
Mrs. Stretton rose. 'Try and sleep now.' Her voice was kind. 'And don't worry about getting up tomorrow. I'm taking Arlena and the others to the antiques fair. You don't have to do that.'
'Does that mean I'm free to leave?' Adrien asked woodenly.
At the door, Margaret Stretton turned and smiled at her again. 'Of course,' she said. 'If that's what you really want. And only you know that, Adrien. It's your decision entirely. Goodnight, my dear, and sleep well.'
After she'd gone, Adrien sat where she was for a long time.
Then she went to the chest of drawers in the bedroom and found the empty velvet case that had housed the pendant originally. All these years it had reminded her of heartbreak and betrayal. Now it was time to set the record straight. And to fight.
She arranged the pendant meticulously on its satin bed, then let herself quietly out into the corridor and went to Chay's room.
She didn't knock. Just turned the handle and walked in.
He was standing by the window, staring out. He'd discarded his dinner jacket and black tie, but apart from that he was still fully dressed.
He turned slowly and surveyed her, his face cool, his mouth set. 'Isn't it rather late for social calls?'
'This is the last one, I promise. I won't trouble you again. I came to give you this.' She held the velvet case out to him. T can't take it, Chay.' Her voice trembled a little. 'It's cost too much—in all sorts of ways.'
'My God,' he said. 'Have you kept that box all this time? Why, Adrien? To remind yourself how much you hated me?'
She winced. 'Something like that. But it isn't necessary any longer. So, I'm giving it back, along with the rubies.'
'Consider them a productivity bonus.' He made no attempt to take it from her. His eyes were hard. 'Most people expect some kind of golden handshake at the end of a contract.'
'Well, I'm not most people.' She glared at him.
'And I'm not playing your damned games any longer.'
'Games?' he came back at her savagely. 'Who the hell are you to talk to me about playing games?'
He shook his head. 'I really thought you were over Piers—that you'd seen through him at last. But, oh, no. At the first opportunity you're back in his arms.