Master of Falcon's Head Page 14

  Tamar shook her head vigorously. ‘Of course not. I - I couldn’t have asked him a thing like that! Besides, I felt so sick ...’ She rubbed a tear from her cheek. ‘When - when Trevor suggested I go away with him, I couldn’t wait to leave. I never wanted to see Ross again, as long as I lived!’

  ‘Yet you came back. Why?’

  Tamar sighed. ‘I suppose because I still love him. Oh, Father, it’s no use going over the past, like this. Last - last night Ross told me that Lucy was born a full year after their marriage. Virginia had either made a mistake - or she was lying.’

  ‘Lying, yes, Tamar, lying! My dear child, Virginia might well have had an affair with Steven, she might well have thought she was pregnant, she might well have been upset, but she wanted Ross because he was the elder son and the owner of that house, and that’s all! Believe me! She thought once she was married to Ross she would be able to spend some of his money having a good time elsewhere. That was why she went to Dublin - you’ve heard she went to Dublin, I suppose?’

  Tamar’s eyes were wide. ‘Y - yes!’

  ‘Only the fact that she was pregnant brought her back again. But she and Ross had been married more than six months then.’

  ‘So she did have his child,’ said Tamar dully.

  ‘Yes, she had his child. Tamar, don’t be naive! When you left here without leaving any message - any forwarding address - Ross was like a man demented! He did try to trace you, but London is a big place and the solicitors who had handled your grandfather’s affairs did not help.’

  ‘We - I mean - my father changed his address when he took me back to London. The flat he had had was too small, so we moved.’

  “Yes. That’s what the solicitors said, and after a while we began to hear things about you, about your work, in periodicals and so on, and then Ross became completely embittered.’

  Tamar shook her head bewilderedly, ‘When did he marry Virginia?’

  ‘When he couldn’t trace you - when it became obvious that you had no intention of contacting him. It was what his mother had wanted all along, after all, and he didn’t seem to care any more. I understand it was a normal marriage for a couple of months only, and then Virginia went to Dublin, alone.’

  Tamar hunched her shoulders. She had never felt so unutterably depressed. Everything Virginia had said came back to her with vivid clarity, her imagination fed by her own fears at that time. She had loved Ross, yes, but he had always seemed so much older, remote, somehow, that she had been afraid his lovemaking had meant something else. When Virginia had told her those terrible things, she had had a willing listener, someone already half-way to believing them because of her own lack of confidence.

  ‘So that’s why he hates me,’ she said, shivering. ‘And I thought I hated him.’

  Father Donahue nodded wisely. ‘Yes, my child. You must go to tell him the truth, explain what Virginia said—’

  ‘No!’ Tamar was shaking her head blindly, ‘No, Father, I couldn’t do that. Besides, it would do no good. Ross wouldn’t believe me. Virginia was his wife, Lucy’s mother, he must have felt something for her. And anyway, I ought to have known, I ought to have believed in him, I ought to have at least had the courage to face him with my suspicions. There’s no excuse for my running away. That’s all I ever seem to do,’ she finished sadly.

  Father Donahue caught her shoulders, shaking her a little. ‘Tamar, you can’t do this, not again. If you leave now, you’ll never see Ross again. Can you do that? To him? To yourself?’

  ‘It’s my only course,’ she replied quietly. ‘Can’t you see, Father? All that we’ve been talking about happened seven years ago. Maybe Ross did love me then, maybe he did try to find me, and maybe if he had we would have been happy. But now - well, too many things have happened, Lucy; Virginia’s death; Mrs. Falcon’s heart attack. I suppose they are all my fault as Ross said.’

  ‘He said that!’ The priest’s hands fell away.

  ‘Yes.’

  Tamar rose to her feet. ‘I must go, Father. I want to pack. I - I’m leaving this afternoon. I think that would be best. Then I can drive back to Limerick, return the car to the garage, and arrange a flight home for tomorrow.’

  ‘But you said - tomorrow.’ His lined old face was anxious.

  ‘It’s better today,’ she said, sighing. ‘Believe me!’

  The plane landed at London Airport at seven in the evening, and Tamar was longing to get home to the apartment, to see Emma again, and to try and forget all the mistakes of the past. Ben was right. She needed to come home, to London, to get things into perspective.

  If Emma was surprised to see her when she opened the door to Tamar’s ring, she hid it successfully, and said:

  ‘You should have cabled, or telephoned, Miss Tamar. There’s nothing much in the refrigerator.’

  Tamar gave a tired smile. ‘Emma darling, food is the least of my worries. Oh, it’s good to see you again!’

  And it was good to be back, surprisingly good. She took a deliciously deep bath, washed her hair, and when she emerged, dressed only in a long royal blue quilted housecoat, Emma had a delicious omelette waiting for her, accompanied by a green salad, and followed by a raspberry souffle.

  ‘You’re amazing, Emma,’ Tamar exclaimed, as she tried to do justice to the food with the help of several glasses of wine, ‘How have you managed? Have you missed me?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ said Emma dryly, standing hoveringly near the kitchen door .

  ‘Oh, sit down, Emma,’ said Tamar, sighing. ‘I’m in need of company, your company, undemanding company.’

  Emma gave a brief smile, and perched on the edge of a chair.

  ‘How have you been?’ she asked. ‘You look tired and drawn. Haven’t you been sleeping?’

  Tamar shrugged. ‘I didn’t sleep much last night, actually, but otherwise I’ve managed. Did you know Ben came over?’ She held out her hand. ‘Like it?’

  ‘Pearls for tears,’ remarked Emma dourly. ‘So you did it, then.’

  Tamar slid the ring off her finger and laid it on the table. ‘Yes, I did it, but I’m not sure whether it’s on or off.’

  Emma looked amazed. ‘You’re not what!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Oh, Emma, I wonder if I should tell you.’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Tamar finished the souffle with a sigh, and lay back. ‘About my reasons for going to Ireland.’

  ‘There was a man,’ said Emma shortly.

  ‘Yes, of course. There’s always a man.’ Tamar studied her wine reflectively. ‘But this was something else again. Something that happened seven years ago.’

  ‘I’ll get the coffee,’ said Emma, standing up.

  ‘Bring two cups,’ said Tamar, lighting a cigarette, and Emma gave a brief nod before taking the tray with the food away.

  The coffee was delicious, and Tamar drank several cups appreciatively. ‘You make delicious coffee, Emma,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed that too.’

  Emma smiled. ‘I think you’ve something more than coffee on your mind,’ she said. ‘Is it to do with the painting of that old house?’

  ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘Quite easily. You refuse to sell it. Obviously it has sentimental value.’

  ‘Yes, it has. It’s the home of the Falcon family. The house is in Falcon’s Wherry, the village where I was born, and it’s called Falcon’s Head, The man who owns the land is called Ross Falcon. His father died when he was quite young, and he and his mother run the estate.’

  ‘I see.’ Emma nodded. ‘And this was the man from your past?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tamar bent her head. ‘I’ve never talked about it, because it was always painful to think about him. But yesterday I learned that the reason I ran away, and believe me, I did run, was not relevant. It was all a lie. The thing I ran from never happened.’

  ‘And did he - did he marry someone else? When you left?’

  ‘Yes. She’s dead now, though. She died when their child was born - Lucy. She’s s
ix. She’s deaf and dumb.’

  ‘Oh, the poor wee thing!’ Emma shook her head compassionately. ‘And you’ve met them again? This man - and the child?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, Emma, that’s the awful thing. You see, I still love him. I’ve only been fooling myself all these years. I thought I’d got over it, but I hadn’t.’

  ‘But where’s the problem? If he’s a widower, surely—’

  ‘Oh, it’s not that simple,’ said Tamar heavily. ‘It’s not simple at all. Ross hates me. He - he thinks I left Falcon’s Wherry to further my career. He thinks that was all I was interested in, and when I became famous, that only deepened his belief.’

  ‘But haven’t you told him that it wasn’t so?’

  Tamar felt the hot tears pricking her eyes. ‘No,’ she said fiercely, ‘I haven’t told him. He wouldn’t believe me, anyway.’ She sniffed. ‘No, I’ve run away again, only this time it’s for good. He won’t try to find me again. That seems to be all I’m good for - running away!’

  ‘Oh, nonsense, child! Heavens, you give a great deal of pleasure with your paintings. Why, that in itself constitutes an achievement.’

  ‘An empty achievement,’ muttered Tamar miserably. ‘As for Ben - well, I don’t know.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of marrying him still? Does he know about this man - this Ross Falcon?’

  ‘Yes, he knows. I told him yesterday too. He was shocked, of course. We only bought the ring two days ago.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re a very foolish girl!’ said Emma shortly, looking at her a little annoyedly. ‘You’ve got yourself into an impossible situation. Once you asked for my advice, and I didn’t give it. Now I will. You can’t marry Mr. Hastings now. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘You mean I should remain a spinster?’

  ‘Like me? God help me, no! You want to book yourself on the next flight back to Shannon, and go and see this man you’re in love with. He’s the only man you should marry, and well you know it.’

  ‘Oh, Emma, I couldn’t do that!’

  ‘Why?’ Emma snorted. ‘You’re too proud, is that it?’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ Tamar sought about in her mind

  for her reasons. ‘Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is pride. But I did try to be friendly with Ross, but like I said - he hates me!’

  Emma heaved a sigh. ‘Stubborn, too,’ she said bleakly, and Tamar stubbed out her cigarette wearily.

  Suddenly there was a ring at the doorbell. Tamar started and glanced at the clock on the nearby mantel. It was after eleven.

  ‘Who can it be?’ exclaimed Emma, frowning. Tamar shrugged, drawing her housecoat closer about her. ‘It could be Ben, I suppose,’ she said, ‘but he would hardly come so late.’

  ‘Should I open it?’ asked Emma anxiously, as the bell rang a second time.

  ‘Oh, yes, I suppose so. Whoever it is, they’ll have seen the light. We can hardly pretend to be in bed. Besides, it’s probably one of the neighbours. A thief would hardly announce himself.’

  Emma tutted a little as she went out to the hall, and when the door was opened, she said shortly: ‘Yes? What is it?’ in an unfriendly tone, so that Tamar knew it was no one she knew.

  ‘I want to see Miss Tamar Sheridan,’ said a voice that caused Tamar’s heart to pound thunderously. ‘She does live here, doesn’t she?’

  Tamar got unsteadily to her feet, as she heard Emma say: ‘Yes, she lives here. But this is no time to be calling on decent folk!’

  ‘Emma,’ said Tamar tremulously, ‘it’s all right. Let him come in. This - this is Ross Falcon.’

  Emma gave an involuntary start. ‘Oh! Oh, well, you’d better come in, I suppose,’ she said grudgingly, while Tamar stood nervously by the couch, hugging herself in the housecoat. ‘Will you be needing me?’ she asked, of her mistress, but Tamar said:

  ‘I - I don’t think so, thank you, Emma. Good - good night!’

  ‘Good night.’ Emma glanced at Ross speculatively, then, shrugging, she turned and left them.

  Ross came into the room slowly, looking strange and unfamiliar in a thick overcoat and a dark suit. It was a wet night outside, and raindrops sparkled on his dark hair.

  ‘Won’t you sit down?’ said Tamar uncomfortably, wondering desperately why he was here. ‘Ta-take your coat off.’

  Ross unbuttoned his coat slowly, then said: ‘So this is where the famous Tamar Sheridan produces her masterpieces,’ in a lazy, sardonic tone. He looked about him interestedly.

  Tamar turned away, unable to bear it any longer. ‘Why have you come, Ross?’ she asked unsteadily.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ His voice was still mocking.

  ‘No, of course not. If I did I wouldn’t be asking!’ she snapped shortly, and walked jerkily over to the tray of drinks. ‘W - would you like some whisky?’

  ‘Is it Irish?’

  ‘No, Scotch.’

  ‘All right, maybe a small one.’ Ross removed his coat

  and walked lazily about the room, stopping now and then to admire paintings and prints that adorned the white walls. Tamar turned and handed him his drink, conscious of the scarcity of her attire. She had not expected to be entertaining anyone.

  ‘Won’t you join me? he asked, indicating the whisky.

  ‘Thank you, no. I - I don’t drink a lot, and I had some wine with the meal Emma made me.’

  ‘Ah, yes, you’ve eaten.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’

  Ross half-smiled. ‘Not since this morning, actually. Why? Are you any good in the kitchen? Could you provide me with some food?’

  Tamar hesitated, unsure as to whether he was joking or not, then shrugged. ‘I — I could make you an omelette, and some salad,’ she said awkwardly.

  ‘That sounds delightful!’ He gave a small bow, and Tamar compressed her lips and marched across to the kitchen.

  He followed her, and stood leaning against the doorpost while she beat up eggs, heated the pan, and finally poured them into it. She added cheese and flavouring, then took a dish of salad from the fridge. She took a plate, put out some salad, and folded the omelette on to it. She pulled out the breakfast bar, placed a stool beside it, produced cutlery, and said: ‘Coffee?’

  He nodded. ‘Fine,’ and she turned on the percolator. She was conscious of getting more and more on edge, and somehow angry too. She had the feeling he was playing with her, like a cat plays with a mouse before destroying it, and she was very much afraid that Ross was going to destroy her, if not physically, then certainly mentally.

  He seated himself at the bar, and ate the omelette and salad with some relish, and when she found some raspberries in the fridge, and added some cream, he ate those as well. By then the coffee was ready, and she poured two cups, perching on a stool nearby, waiting for him to finish.

  She thought of how she had only picked at her meal, and felt a sense of resentment that he could eat with so much enjoyment, uncaring of her feelings. Just why had he come to England at all, and why had he come to see her at this hour of the night? It was almost midnight. Didn’t he know how unconventional he was being? But then he was not like Ben, she reminded herself. Ross Falcon was always unpredictable.

  Replete, he rose from the bar and said: ‘You make a delicious omelette, Tamar. You must make me more, some time.’

  Tamar stifled a retort and walked back into the lounge. Ross joined her, turning out the main light by the door, leaving only a standard lamp for illumination.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘That’s much more attractive and comfortable, don’t you think?’

  Ignoring the way she hovered uncertainly by the table, he seated himself lazily on the couch, loosening his tie, and relaxing completely.

  Tamar clenched her fists. ‘Ross, have you any idea what time it is? It’s almost midnight. Most people are in bed by now.’

  ‘What? Even the swinging London crowd?’

  ‘Those of the swinging London crowd who have to work, yes,’ she retorted coolly.

  ‘We
ll, all right, let’s go to bed.’ He smiled lazily. ‘Come here, Tamar.’

  Tamar’s whole body was suffused with colour. ‘Ross, for God’s sake,’ she muttered, turning away, leaning against the table shakily.

  Then she felt his arms sliding around her from behind, drawing her back against him, while the warmth of his mouth sought the nape of her neck. His hands caressed her waist as he kissed her, and he said huskily: ‘If I tell you I love you, will you stop being frightened of me?’

  Tamar went weak, allowing her whole body to rest against the hardness of his. ‘Ross, what do you mean?’ she murmured unevenly.

  He twisted her round to face him, his eyes dark and tender for the first time since she had seen him again. ‘It’s simple,’ he muttered, in a low voices ‘Father Donahue told me the truth.’

  ‘And - and you believed it?’

  ‘Wasn’t it the truth, then?’ His eyes were alert.

  ‘Oh, God, Ross, of course it was the truth,’ she groaned achingly, sliding her arms round his middle and pressing herself against him. ‘But I never thought you’d ever believe me.’

  ‘Why?’ He smoothed her hair with gentle hands.

  ‘Virginia was your wife. I was sure—’

  ‘You should never be sure of anything.’ Ross’s fingers slid to her throat. ‘Oh, God, Tamar, you have no idea what this is like, finding you and holding you, and knowing I have the right to love you, and want you, and need you. And I do need you, believe me!’ His mouth found hers, gently at first, but as passion flared between them, he was no longer gentle, but violently demanding. He caressed her passionately, and muttered, a trifle thickly: ‘Is this all you’ve got on?’ ‘Hmm!’