Ivy Secrets (35 page)

Her eyes drifted to the second story. She wondered which was his bedroom, which was the room where he shared his marriage bed, his intimate thoughts, his familiar touches with his wife of sixteen years. A wave of sadness washed over Marina. She wondered if Edward ever thought of her, and what he would have done had he known about their baby.

Now, he would never know. She would keep her promise to Charlie and Peter never to make contact, never to know her child. It would be difficult. Charlie was such a good friend—the best friend Marina had ever had. But now Marina must sacrifice not only her child, but also her friend.
It was, she knew, the best decision for all concerned—especially the baby, who would not have to be raised imprisoned as a princess, who would know no other parents than Charlie and Peter, and have no other name but Hobart.

She held her stomach now and raised her head. “We should turn back now,” she said to Nicholas. “I am feeling a little tired.” Then she whispered a silent farewell to Edward James, the father of Charlie and Peter’s baby, the man who had loved Marina, the woman, so well.

    Six weeks later, in the middle of the night, the pains began. Marina awoke in the small bed of the attic room of Tess’s house. Water gushed between her legs. She gripped the post of the headboard and screamed.

“Tess!”

In an instant, Tess was there. She took one frantic look at Marina and headed for the stairs.

“Where the hell are you going?” Marina yelled.

“To the phone. I’ve got to call Nicholas in the studio. “God,” Marina heard Tess mutter as she fled down the stairs, “I hope I remember the fucking number. I never call myself out there.… I never should have put in a separate phone line.…”

Marina lay back and squeezed her eyes shut.

Quickly, Tess returned.

“He’s on his way to get Dell,” Tess told her.

Marina cried out. Tess looked around the room. Then gave the princess her hand.

“The baby is coming quickly,” Tess said.

“How do you know?” Marina screamed. “What the fuck do you know about—” Another pain stopped her words. She dug her fingernails into Tess’s palm. Tess didn’t flinch.

Marina remembered little of what happened next. She knew she felt sweat on her brow. She knew she wanted to wipe it off. She wanted to go to sleep. She stared at the low, slanted ceiling and she simply wanted to die. Another pain strangled her abdomen.

“Breathe,” Tess commanded. “The way Dell showed you. Come on.” Marina watched through glazed eyes as Tess
began to pant. Marina tried to follow, but another pain came quickly.

“Breathe!” Tess shouted.

Marina began to pant.

The cramping eased. “Where is Charlie? Did anyone call Charlie?”

Tess squeezed her hand. “Nicholas will.”

“Charlie should be here.”

“She will.”

“I am glad they are back from Cape Cod. I am glad they had a nice honeymoon …” The pain returned.

“Shut up and breathe,” Tess said.

Dell rushed into the room. She carried towels and a basin of water.

“Can’t we get her downstairs?” Marina heard Tess ask.

Marina felt the covers being pulled from her. She felt someone pull her knees up, then spread her legs.

“We’d better not move her,” Dell’s voice answered, then more loudly, “Breathe, Marina.”

“I
am
breathing for chrissake. Where is Charlie?”

“On her way.” It was Nicholas’s voice from the doorway.

“God, Nicholas,” Marina gasped. “Do you have to watch?”

“Yes. It is my duty.”

“Christ,” Marina muttered and turned her head away. “At least this baby will not have to suffer.”

“This baby won’t be born, let alone suffer, unless you push,” Dell said.

Marina pushed again until the veins inside her head threatened to explode, until the muscles in her stomach twisted from the pain, until she could no longer pant, or even breathe.

“Push again,” Dell commanded.

“Fuck you,” Marina replied.

“Push, dammit!” Dell shouted. “Push, or else!”

“Or else what? You will steal this baby from me, the way that you stole Viktor?” Marina didn’t know where the words had come from. She didn’t realize she even thought of Viktor anymore.

“I didn’t steal Viktor,” Dell said seethingly. “But if you
don’t grow up and push, I’ll tell him what a spoiled brat you are. Not that he doesn’t know.”

“What?” Marina screeched and tried to sit up. “What do you know about Viktor?” Another cramp took a vise grip on her stomach. She tried to pant then felt Dell pry open her legs.

“I know enough to keep Viktor’s secrets,” Dell responded. “The same way I’m going to keep yours. Now push.”

Marina pushed until the room started to grow black, until Tess’s hand around her own no longer felt like a hand but a spongelike warmth that didn’t falter, didn’t move.

And then Marina heard a tiny cry.

“Marina?” It was Charlie’s voice.

“You’re just in time,” said Dell.

Marina opened her eyes. Dell was passing a toweled bundle into Charlie’s arms. “It’s a girl,” Dell said.

Marina closed her eyes again and slumped back against the pillow.
A girl
, she thought.
A girl. A little princess. A healthy, safe, free little princess.

Charlie leaned over the white satin bassinet in the nursery and watched Jenny sleep. On the bureau, a small china music box played a soothing lullaby. Charlie reached down and smoothed the silky black hair of the infant.

“You are such a beautiful baby,” she whispered, “such a beautiful, lucky baby.” She kissed the infant’s soft forehead, the warm, pink flesh like satin to her lips, the powdery, sweet scent misting the air.

Charlie smiled. She sat up, hummed the gentle sounds of the music box, and rocked the bassinet. Jenny, indeed, was a beautiful baby. Beautiful, and lucky. Charlie looked around the room. It was a vision of eyelet and lace, perfectly groomed porcelain dolls, and one special doll—a redheaded, smiling rag doll from Dell. Peter had given Charlie a blank check to decorate the nursery, which was adjacent to their suite. Now, six weeks after their arrival at Hobart Manor, the room was complete. Charlie had been anxious to prove that, despite her upbringing, her elegant taste would complement the grand house. Elegant taste, she quickly learned, was rather simple to acquire when there were unlimited funds.

Still, Charlie was eager to show the room off to Peter tomorrow, when he returned from Hong Kong, from the business trip that had taken him away for nearly a month. Or rather, Charlie suspected, a trip on which Elizabeth Hobart had
sent
her son.

Jenny gurgled. Charlie kissed the tip of her finger and touched it to the infant’s smooth cheek, just as the door to the nursery opened.

Elizabeth stepped onto the thick white carpet and snaked her gaze over the room.

Charlie had seen little of her mother-in-law since their arrival: keeping busy, staying out of her way, had seemed the most sensible things to do. She wondered how long she would go on feeling like a guest in what was supposed to be her home.

The woman’s eyes landed on Jenny, and Charlie placed a protective hand on the baby’s back.

“I need to speak to you,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll be in my study.” Elizabeth turned on her heel and left.

Charlie willed herself not to cry. She wondered what she had done wrong. Had she spent too much money decorating the nursery? Had she bought the wrong draperies? Was white the wrong color? She gripped the edge of the bassinet and wondered why, at twenty-two, with a husband and a child, she now felt like a child about to be scolded.

“Close the door,” Elizabeth demanded as Charlie entered the study. Her mother-in-law was seated at her desk, her back toward the door. Charlie saw no need to close it. Except for the servants, there was no one else at the manor. But Elizabeth Hobart had spoken. Charlie closed the door.

Elizabeth swiveled to face Charlie. “How much do you want?”

Charlie ran her fingers through her hair. “Excuse me?”

“How much do you want to end this ruse of a marriage and give my son his freedom?”

Charlie’s knees weakened. She saw a stiff, high-backed chair positioned in front of the desk. She wondered if she should sit or wait until Elizabeth said she could sit. She decided she’d better remain standing. “I—I,” she stammered, “I don’t want any money.”

Elizabeth snorted. “My dear, of course you want money. It’s the only reason you’re here, isn’t it?” She reached into a desk drawer and withdrew a long, flat, leather book, then plucked a silver pen from its sleek silver stand. She began to scrawl across a page in the book.

Charlie tightened the muscles in her legs to keep them from buckling.

“I think one hundred thousand dollars is more than generous.” Elizabeth tore off a check and held it in the air.

Charlie moved to the stiff chair and sat down. “I don’t want any money.” She wondered if Peter had any idea his mother was going to do this. “And I don’t want to divorce Peter.”

Elizabeth tossed the check on the desktop and leaned back in her chair. “If you’re trying to drive a hard bargain, it won’t work,” she said. “One hundred thousand is my first and final offer. Take it or leave it.”

Charlie tried again. “I … I don’t want the money. I’m not going to leave Peter.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I think it’s best if you leave tonight. Before my son returns from Hong Kong.”

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck. “Why are you doing this now, Mrs. Hobart? Why have you waited until the nursery was finished?”

“I wanted to see how far you would go, once you had your hands on some play money. I will admit that you’ve surprised me. You’ve done a decent job. It’s a pity the child will not grow up here. Tell me, my dear, just between us girls. Who is the child’s real father?”

The knot in Charlie’s neck tightened. “Peter is Jenny’s father,” she said without strength.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “If you think you’re fooling anyone, you’re wrong. That child looks nothing like a Hobart. The hair is too dark; the eyes are too dark.”

Charlie looked away from her mother-in-law. She scanned the rows of bookcases filled with leather volumes she suspected Elizabeth had never read. The woman had been too busy making money to read. Making money, and making people’s lives miserable. She dropped her gaze to her lap and thought of Jenny. And of Marina. The girl who had given her so much, and had asked for nothing in return.

“Mrs. Hobart,” Charlie said, her voice growing stronger, “I know you don’t like me. Arid I know you don’t want Jenny and me here. But the fact is, we belong here. We are now as much Peter’s family as you are.” She stopped and took a short breath. “As for Jenny’s looks, well, I’m sure it doesn’t please you, but my family is of Irish descent. Many Irish families have dark hair.” Pushing her hair back from her face, she looked up at Elizabeth. The woman had fire in her eyes.

“I can prove the child is not my son’s.”

Charlie’s mind raced. Marina, she thought. Think of Marina. She quickly blinked. “You can prove no such thing.”

“A simple blood test will prove paternity.”

“Not unless you have one done on Jenny.”

“I can order it.”

“Not on my child. You will not touch my child.”

“There are ways, my dear.”

Charlie stood. “I think you’d better check with Peter first. He knows Jenny is his daughter. You’re forgetting that he would have to have a blood test as well.”

Elizabeth looked Charlie square in the eyes. “Peter will do as I say.”

Charlie stepped back. “Not this time, Mrs. Hobart.” A tide of relief flooded through her. She could not believe she was being so bold. She could not believe it felt so good.

“You think you’re a very clever girl, don’t you?” She picked up the check and ripped it in half. “We’ll see how clever you are, dearie. Now get out of my sight. I have more important things to do.”

The tide of relief turned to an eddy of thunder, and Charlie left the study, wondering how long it would be before she was sucked down by the undertow.

    “Do you think she knows?” Charlie questioned Peter when he returned the following day.