Marriage Reclaimed. Sara Craven

everything, he’s being manipulated again.’

      ‘But he doesn’t have to be,’ Joanna said flatly. ‘I’ve told him I’ll renounce my bequest. Go somewhere else. Start a new life. Only he won’t allow it.’

      ‘Well, of course not. However muddled his motives, Lionel has provided you with a future. Gabriel wouldn’t let you deprive yourself of that.’ She shook her head. ‘Verne men, my dear. Pride, stubbornness, and a keen sense of honour—particularly where their dependants are concerned.’

      ‘I,’ Joanna said very clearly, ‘have no wish to be a dependant of Gabriel’s.’

      ‘A view he shares, no doubt.’ Sylvia paused. ‘I thought he was coming with you. What have you done—murdered him and shoved his body out of the car?’

      For the first time in many days Joanna heard herself laugh out loud.

      ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ She shook her head. ‘He’s joining us presently. I—I had some shopping to do, so we decided to arrive here separately.’

      As soon as she’d composed herself that morning, Joanna had changed out of her riding gear into skirt and sweater, topped them with her trenchcoat, and driven into Westroe.

      She’d lunched on scrambled eggs on toast in a local tea room, and spent the rest of the time mooching grimly round the parade of shops, eventually buying a cream silk shirt that she didn’t need simply for appearances.

      ‘Separately, but not that far apart.’ Sylvia looked past her through the window. ‘Gabriel’s here now, surveying the frost damage in the garden with Charles.’ She patted Joanna’s arm. ‘Come and give me a hand with the tea things. In awkward situations, I always find it helps to appear busy.’

      No one could feel uptight in Sylvia’s kitchen, Joanna thought, arranging sandwiches on plates and filling dishes with jam and cream for the batch of feather-light scones still cooling from the Aga.

      Sylvia loved to cook, and she’d created an environment for herself that was warm and homely, as well as being an efficient workspace. Pans and utensils hung from racks, and the huge built-in dresser groaned under the weight of her favourite blue and white china.

      ‘I made a Dundee cake too.’ Sylvia passed it to her. ‘It’s Gabriel’s favourite.’

      ‘So it is,’ Joanna said slowly. ‘I—I’d forgotten.’

      ‘Well, why should you remember?’ Sylvia asked robustly. ‘It isn’t as if you ever cooked for him, after all, and got to know his likes and dislikes. As soon as the honeymoon was over, it was straight back to the Manor and the status quo. Not exactly the usual start in marriage that most young wives experience,’ she added drily.

      Joanna smiled wanly. ‘I don’t think it made much difference in the long run. As you’ve already pointed out, it wasn’t a marriage made in heaven.’

      ‘But it didn’t have to end up in hell, either. Perhaps if you’d had a home of your own—some privacy where you could have slogged out your problems—it might have helped.’

      ‘There was never any question of that.’ Joanna arranged cups and saucers carefully on a tray. Because Gabriel never wanted to be tied down like that. It was convenient for him to leave me at Westroe while he got on with his own life.

      ‘And there were compensations too,’ she said. ‘When things were really bad, at least I wasn’t alone.’

      ‘No,’ Sylvia said with a snap. ‘You always had your stepmother, of course. A terrific consolation.’ She gave Joanna a steely look. ‘I suppose she’s sticking to the Manor like glue?’

      ‘Not exactly.’ Joanna’s hand shook as she poured milk into a silver jug, causing her to spill some on the worktop. ‘She’s moving to Larkspur Cottage for the next twelve months or so.’ She fetched a cloth and wiped up the milk drops. ‘It—it was Gabriel’s idea.’

      ‘Ah,’ Sylvia said neutrally, ‘I see.’ She spooned tea into the pot and poured on boiling water. ‘So you and Gabriel will be on your own together at last.’ She sounded meditative.

      ‘Only to fulfil the terms of the will.’ Joanna tipped sugar cubes into a bowl and placed it on the tray. ‘And through no wish of mine, believe me.’

      ‘You blame Gabriel for everything, don’t you?’ Sylvia’s voice was wry. ‘Would it help if I told you he knew about Lionel’s will and did his damnedest to talk him out of it?’

      ‘For his own good reasons, no doubt,’ Joanna retorted tightly.

      ‘No, for your sake,’ Sylvia returned. ‘He wanted you to have your freedom, and without strings. He thought he’d persuaded Lionel to agree.’

      For a moment they stood looking at each other, then Joanna turned away.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said wearily. ‘I keep forgetting that he’s your godson, and you’re bound to be on his side.’

      ‘Nothing of the kind,’ Sylvia said briskly. ‘I don’t condone his past behaviour, and he knows it. He’s not a fool, but he’s certainly acted like one. I only wish he’d transfer some of his business acumen to his private life.’

      She gave a brief sigh, then glanced around her. ‘Now, if we’re all ready, let’s take the tea in.’

      Sylvia was right about one thing, Joanna realised. Between the affectionate, exuberant greeting she received from Charles and the handing round of cups and plates of food, Gabriel’s cool politeness went almost unnoticed. Almost.

      And as the conversation ranged, from the state of the garden to the amount of painting Sylvia had achieved in Portugal, the fact that Joanna and he barely exchanged a word with each other wasn’t so painfully evident either.

      ‘Did you know we’d let the Lodge at last?’ Charles turned to Gabriel. ‘We’d almost begun to give up hope, but the agents found someone while we were away and he’s already moved in.’

      ‘Pity we didn’t know that Cynthia Elcott was looking for a place.’ Sylvia busied herself with the teapot. ‘Not that I’d particularly want her for a neighbour, of course, but better the devil you know…’

      Joanna stared down at her plate, not daring to see what effect this implied criticism of his new fancy might be having on Gabriel.

      However, he only sounded amused. ‘Your tenant has demonic qualities?’

      ‘Well, he wouldn’t have been our first choice,’ Charles said. ‘We’d have preferred a couple to a single man, but at least the rent is guaranteed, and you can’t have everything.’

      Good God, Joanna thought blankly. They must be talking about Paul Gordon, the man I met this morning. So, he’s actually living quite close by.

      She was aware that her colour had risen suddenly, and, looking up, saw that Gabriel had noticed too, and was staring at her narrow-eyed. She took a hasty bite of a sandwich.

      When tea was over, Charles asked Gabriel for a word of advice on a letter he’d had from his broker, and the two men went off together.

      Joanna offered to help with the washing up, but was quietly relieved when her hostess scoffed at the very idea.

      Sylvia accompanied her out to the car. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she said with mock severity. ‘If life at the Manor gets you down, you can always use this as a bolthole.’

      Joanna returned her heartening embrace, and drove away.

      She hadn’t really noticed the Lodge as she drove in, but now, as she approached it, she realised there was smoke coming from the chimney. As she slowed to negotiate the gateway Paul Gordon emerged from the front door and waved to her. She pulled over, and parked on the verge.

      ‘Well, hello again.’ He leaned in at the car window. ‘I thought I caught a glimpse