Authors: Jane Corrie
She looked quickly away from those searching-- eyes of his, and down to her hands again. She didn't want to tell him that that had been the only reason she had wanted to see him—to try and find out about her family, for he must have met them. But the urge to know compelled her to ask the question. 'Did you meet my people?' she asked quickly before her conscience stopped her.
To her, disappointment Carl did not answer her question, but posed one of his own. It was clear that his mind was on other matters. 'What happened?' he asked quietly.
It took a second for Teresa to understand the question, and although she was disappointed that he had disregarded hers, conceded that he had a right to know. 'I fell,' she said slowly, wrinkling her forehead in an effort of memory. 'I was doing some wallpapering, my uncle said, and I hit my head somehow as I fell.'
She looked up at him expectantly. Perhaps now he would answer her question? Again she was disappointed, for his expression had hardened, and she saw he was too incensed by her answer to give her satisfaction.
'Wallpapering!' he exclaimed in disgust, and Teresa saw his hands clench into fists again. 'And that old fool let you do it!'
She lifted her brows at this bald statement. 'I must have wanted to do it,' she said mildly.
Carl's gaze left her, and centred on the window. 'If only I'd stopped you from leaving that day,' he said bitterly, 'none of this would have happened.' He looked back at her. 'I oughtn't to have let that old devil get under my skin.'
Teresa was coming out of the sad state fast. 'If you're referring to Uncle Patrick,' she said indignantly, 'from
what I've heard, he didn't hav
e any option in the matter!'
His blue eyes probed hers, then he gave a half-weary smile. 'Seems he convinced you, at any rate,' he answered.
It was Teresa who looked away first; she felt awkward and longed for the end of this rather embarrassing interview.
'I love you, Teresa,' he said softly, 'never lose sight of that.' There was a wealth of sincerity in his words that made her look back at him swiftly. `I'm not going to try and whitewash my reactions that day, but I do want you to try and understand how it was.'
Carl walked towards her, and sat on the arm of her chair, catching hold of one of her hands. 'You've no doubt heard about the feud—how it started; and how it went on year after year. I'm not excusing my family's part in it, any more than the Raffertys', but there've been times in the past when we would willingly have called a halt to the whole wretched business.' He frowned and studied her small hand that still lay in his. Teresa would have liked to have pulled it away, but felt powerless to do so.
`Unfortunately,' he went on, 'as you've probably heard from your uncle, the Raffertys' fortunes went 'from bad to worse, and we got blamed for what almost certainly was bad management on their side. Instead of pulling themselves together, they were content to snipe away at old grievances.' His free arm swept in an arc, encompassing the room
and its rich furnishings. 'As you see,' he said sardonically, 'they didn't impede our progress.'
He was silent for a moment or so, then his hand clenched once more into a fist. 'What they did do was to start a smear campaign that damn near came off, only not quite. It split the town; half on the Raffertys' side, and half on ours.' He gave a sigh. 'I guess human nature has a lot to do with it—the underdog will always find a champion.' His voice grew harder. 'But we've worked for what we've got, and we didn't climb on the backs of the Raffertys to achieve success.'
Teresa wondered if he had forgotten that she was a Rafferty too, and she attempted to remove her hand, but he kept a firm hold on it.
'It's over and done with, Teresa,' he said slowly. 'I meant what I said about not letting the past stand in our way.' His eyes travelled slowly over her face. 'I know you don't remember the past—not at the moment, anyhow—but you've got to trust me, and know that what I'm telling you is the truth. You loved me as much as I loved you.' He gave a twisted grin. 'Well,' he amended, 'I don't think it's possible for you to care for me as much as I care for you—and I can prove that to you,' he said softly.
His glance once again encompassed the room and then travelled towards the window and out beyond to the rich pastures in the distance. 'This land has been in my family's possession for over a decade, and I love every inch of it—but for your sake, I'm prepared to turn my back on it and start anew. It won't be an easy break for me; the place I eventually settled on is no comparison to Sunset Ridge, I
couldn't have hoped to find one that was.' His firm lips clamped together on this thought, then he shrugged half-wearily, 'But I'll do it for your sake. I couldn't lose you. Are you beginning to understand now?' he said gently.
Teresa's lovely eyes met his and she nodded slowly, if still a little warily, but Carl appeared satisfied. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, and would have taken her in his arms had she not forestalled the movement by slipping past him and walking to the window, where she stood gazing out.
She felt helpless, and knew she had to be very careful not to commit herself to his persuasive methods. She had walked out on him, hadn't she? and she must have had a good reason for doing so. She sighed inwardly; it appeared she hadn't loved him as much as he had thought she had.
'I didn't cancel the wedding, Teresa,' he said abruptly, now close behind her.
She turned towards him, the surprise in her eyes clearly evident.
'It's in ten days,' he added significantly.
Ten days !
Teresa's brain whirled; she couldn't possibly marry him—he ought to realise that now. She swallowed. 'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, 'but you must see I couldn't possibly ...' She couldn't go on. He must know what she meant.
His autocratic features hardened as he said harshly, 'You didn't believe me, then?'
Teresa shook her head vehemently. 'How could I either believe or not believe?' she said bewilderedly. Her eyes met his. 'I only know I walked out on you,' she said, adding in a low voice, 'That's all I know, and it doesn't look as if I really loved you, does it?'
she asked gently, hoping that this time he would understand what she was trying to tell him.
Carl moved closer to her, but did not touch her. 'I can answer that one,' he said bitterly. 'Not that it's to my credit, and in a way I gave you no option but to do just that.' His voice now held a touch of weariness as well as bitterness in it. 'If your uncle Patrick had chosen a less flamboyant way of introducing himself, chances were that I would have accepted the situation.'
He moved yet closer to Teresa and she could almost feel his arms around her, but he still did not touch her. 'Think, Teresa,' he said softly, 'we were celebrating our engagement, and I doubt if there were two people in the whole world as happy as we were.' He was silent for a second or two as if marshalling his thoughts, then went on in a low tone, 'It was a full house, as the saying goes. There were a hundred and fifty guests in this house—all friends of mine and all fully aware of that damned feud. I'd grown up with most of them—and in walks your uncle, and calmly an
nounces that you're a Rafferty !
No asking to see me in private—oh, no he must let the whole world know who you are. If he'd done it any other way, I might have been able to keep the lid down on that particular disclosure. It wouldn't have mattered a damn if it had come out after we'd married. You would by then have been an Elton, and woe betide anyone who said different.'
Teresa heard, but it didn't help her one bit; it only served to reinforce her earlier argument. She had chosen to stand by her uncle—a relative, yes, but someone she hadn't known.
As if sensing her thoughts, Carl said, 'Yes, you're
right. Why did you choose to go with him? I think I can tell you that, too.' His arm slid round her waist, making her stiffen at the contact, but he did not remove his arm although he could not have been unaware of her reaction.
was still reeling from your uncle's bombshell—oh, yes,' he asserted grimly, meeting her startled eyes, 'he meant it to be just that. I must say he thoroughly enjoyed the shock he gave me.' He shrugged, as if to throw off the memory, and continued, 'When I took you somewhere where we could talk in private, I had some crazy idea that you were in on the whole thing,' he smiled wryly at her. The Raffertys get you thinking that way, I'm afraid. You weren't, of course,' he added quickly, 'but I was hardly in a position to think straight at that particular time. I'm afraid you caught the overflow.'
His arm tightened around her waist. 'I don't remember now exactly what I did say to you—something on the lines of wanting confirmation that he was your uncle.' His voice softened, 'Forgive me, my love. You needed as much reassurance at that time as I did, only I was too full of myself to see it. I don't blame you for walking out on me. I deserved it.'
Even knowing why she had walked out on him, Teresa was still of the opinion that she would not have done such a thing if she had loved him. Surely she would have understood why he had acted as he had? If you loved someone you stood by them, didn't you? So her original thoughts had been correct; she had jumped at the chance of freedom. She felt that touch of sadness again that she couldn't give him the response he wanted.
'I wish ...' she began hesitantly, then started again, this time on a firmer note. 'I can't pretend to remember,' she said as she passed a hand over her forehead where she could feel the throbbing ache beginning to start up again. 'I can only say I'm very sorry—about everything.' Her lovely eyes met his with a pleading look. 'Can't you see it's better forgotten? Even I can see that the marriage wouldn't have worked. How could it, with so much bitterness behind it?'
Carl gave her an intense look that said more than words. He needn't have spoken, for his thoughts were there in his eyes. 'I'm not giving up, Teresa,' he said implacably. 'If I have to wait years for you, then I'll do just that. Sooner or later your memory is going to come back, and I'll be around to pick up where we left off. Is Turnbull treating you?' he asked tersely.
Teresa, busy sorting out the implication of his words, started. He meant Dr Turnbull, of course. She nodded wordlessly.
'I'll have a word with him,' Carl said abruptly. 'If I don't get any satisfaction, I'll call in a specialist. Turnbull's good, but a bit out of touch with up-todate methods.'
Teresa stared at him; there was no doubt that he meant every word, and she felt a wave of panic flow through her. He simply refused to take no for an answer. Nor was he prepared to let nature run its course, as Dr Turnbull had intimated would be the best way to handle the situation. But not Carl Elton! she thought angrily. He was so used to getting his own way. It did occur to her that that might have
been the reason why she had walked out on him; it was beginning to look as if she had had a narrow escape! 'I think my uncle might have something to say about that,' she said coldly, hoping to show him he wasn't going to have things all his own way, but she need not have bothered.
'It might suit him to keep things as they are,' he answered grimly, then meeting her indignant eyes, he added softly, 'And you? Don't you want to know the past, or remember your family?'
Teresa swallowed quickly, acknowledging his skilful thrust into her frail armour. Of course she wanted to remember—her family more than anything. She had to concede that Carl had chosen his weapons well. Only he held the key, and she had a feeling that he was now waiting for her to ask all the questions she had wanted to have answered earlier, only she knew he would only grant her so much at a time. Subtle blackmail, in fact! On such conditions she did want to get her memory back.
'Of course,' she answered swiftly, and added bitterly, 'According to Dr Turnbull, losing one's memory sometimes acts as a release from stress. Nature's way of easing grief,' she added for good measure, but as she saw him wince visibly at her words, she wished she had held her tongue. She had to remember why he was acting as he did. He had a lot at stake, and this time it wasn't pride but love that spurred him on; love, she thought disconsolately, that could never be returned.
She looked hastily away, feeling ashamed of herself, and said in a low tone, 'I'll ask Dr Turnbull if he has any other suggestions.'
'We will ask Turnbull,' he replied firmly.
The subject was then closed, and to Teresa's surprise and relief, Carl did not press her to stay and have dinner with him, but remarked lightly that as she appeared to have a conscience about getting her uncle's meal, he had better take her back to the chalet.
It was only a small concession on his part, but she was grateful for it.
WHEN the car drew up outside the chalet, Teresa-saw that Uncle Patrick must have been on the watch for them, for he was standing by the front door, his slight figure stiff and erect, and it occurred to her that Michael might have told him of her encounter with Carl.
As she opened the front gate Carl was beside her, and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach when she realised he had every intention of stating his views to her uncle.
'There's no need fer you to come any nearer,' her uncle growled to Carl, 'and I'll thank you to keep your distance from Teresa in future. Sure, haven't you brought the poor girl enough trouble?' He turned to Teresa. 'You jist run in and get yerself a cup of tea.'