If what Melanie had told her had been the truth, then she would never be happy again, she thought bewilderedly, as her still partially shocked gaze rested on a ranch-styled building a little ahead of her that was Kade's quarters, near enough to the main house to enable him to stroll over in the evenings to partake dinner with his boss, and far enough away to provide privacy for each if required. Not that he had ever taken dinner with Tanya; she had never asked him for the simple reason that she knew that he would refuse.
Her mother and Kade !
Tanya still couldn't take it in. She didn't want to believe it, yet Melanie's spiteful outburst had had a nasty ring of truth in it. If it was a lie then it could be exposed at any time and she must have known that.
Tanya closed her eyes. Her head felt light, as if it didn't really belong to her. She wasn't really there at all, and not one of the horrible things Melanie had said were true. She must be dreaming. 'Please let it be a bad dream,' she whispered, 'don't let it be true.'
WHEN Tanya reached Orchard House, she went straight up to her room. Connie Dean, the middle-aged housekeeper, would at that time be in the kitchen supervising the dinner arrangements, and as fond as she was of Connie, she had no wish to run into her at that precise moment in time.
Connie must have known, she thought dully, as she closed her bedroom door behind her and sank down on to her bed with legs that suddenly refused to support her. Everyone must have known, she thought bitterly, everyone but her.
So many things were now becoming clearer to her; Kade's cool, offhand manner, his dislike of her, for it could not be called embarrassment, not with a man like Kade. But how very unfair of him to transfer his dislike of her mother to her daughter!
Her soft lips twisted at this thought. Was it dislike or disgust? A bit of both probably. She closed her eyes; it was disgusting! Her mother must have been years older than Kade, and to have thrown herself at him like that—Tanya's small hands clenched into fists; how could she face him now, knowing what she now knew? She couldn't! She simply couldn't!
Her anguished eyes fell on a large signed photograph of her mother on the dressing table opposite her. 'How could you!' she whispered to the image of the beautiful woman who had brought her into the world. Her
eyes left the photograph and met her own reflection in the mirror of the dressing table. Yes, she was like her mother, the same white-blonde hair, the same winged eyebrows above the large eyes, only her mother's eyes had been dark blue, but that was really the only difference between them, to see one was to see the other, and Tanya had never before had cause to regret this likeness.
It had once been a source of pride to her, and she had basked in the shadow of her mother's beauty, for such was Drusilla Hume's personality that the lovely daughter by her side appeared to be a pale reflection of the mother.
If was from her mother that Tanya had learned how to accept a compliment gracefully and never let it go to her head. She had also been taught how to rebuff an unwanted suitor without giving offence, and there had been occasion enough to watch this practice being carried out. There had been no shortage of admirers no matter where they went, but they were all held at a distance.
Tanya had never had occasion to wonder why, or if she had given the matter some thought, she would have presumed that her mother had had one failure behind her in the marriage stakes, and had no intention of repeating it. Willing would-be suitors were allowed to escort them to various dinners or dances, but that was as far as it went, and Tanya's mother had kept as careful a watch on her daughter's escort's behaviour as she had on her own. There was time enough, she had often told Tanya, for her to settle down in marriage.
Tanya had never queried her mother's words, for she adored her, and whatever she said went without opposition. There were times when Tanya had sensed
that she was unhappy, she could tell when these were by the sad pensive look that would come into her wide dark blue eyes as her thoughts lingered on the past, and Tanya had longed to comfort her but was at a loss to know how, for she had never spoken to her about the past; all she had ever said about that time was that it was better that she had left.
She shook her head wearily. It didn't make sense. She had thought she had known her mother well enough to be able to refute the malicious story that Melanie had told her, but had she? She thought of all the admirers who had dogged their footsteps during the years after they had left Orchard Farm, most of them presentable, for the rich circles Drusilla Hume had moved in excluded any gatecrashers. She thought of one particular man who had been the most persistent, Lloyd Warren, a cattle king from Oregon who had no intention of taking no for an answer, but her mother's death had finally extinguished this determined bid. Even in his grief in losing the woman that he had set his heart on capturing as his wife, he had offered Tanya a home, she was part of Drusilla and he wanted to look after her, such was his devotion to her mother. Tanya had hated having to refuse this kind offer, but even if she hadn't had anywhere else to go, she would not have accepted; it would have been a painful association for both of them, and would not have helped either of them to heal the deep wound left by the loss of the person they both loved.
Tanya swallowed on these thoughts as she recalled Lloyd's last words to her before she left Austria for Tasmania. 'Remember, honey, I'm always here if you want me,' and he had given her a card with his home
address on. 'That number will find me no matter where I am, you just shout, and I'll be there.'
She saw again the tall chestnut-haired American, his lean tanned features now tight in grief, and his brown eyes that used to twinkle with amusement at some airy quip of her mother's, now bleak with sorrow. Of all her mother's admirers Lloyd was the one Tanya had heartily wished success to. He was good-looking and easy-going, yet one had a feeling that behind his lazy good humour lay a sense of purpose, and where her mother was concerned the purpose was quite dear, he made no bones about it.
Yet her mother had been just as determined to hold him at a distance as she had the others, and this had puzzled Tanya. She swallowed painfully as she recalled her feelings at that time—she hadn't known about Kade and her mother then, things might have made more sense if she had known. Lloyd was handsome, but there was only one Kade; Lloyd's eyes were brown, Kade's were a brilliant blue that went right through you.
The cascade of tears splashed on to her cheeks, but she did not shake them away. How could Kade have resisted her mother when other men vied for her attention? He was human, wasn't he? and he certainly wasn't a monk, in fact he had a reputation of loving and leaving those who dared to cross his path, indulging in an affair in an attempt to snare him. He had never married, had he? She gulped. Had he loved her mother? Was that why he hadn't married? As there was only one Kade, so there had been only one Drusilla Hume.
Her mother had had pride too, and Tanya simply couldn't see her throwing herself at him as hinted by
Melanie. Her lips folded tightly together. Kade must have encouraged her, and then got tired of the game. The words, 'He had to take a horsewhip to her to make her see that he wasn't interested', then seared through her brain, and her teeth clenched together tightly. How dared he! And how could her lovely mother have allowed things to get to that state?
Tanya got up slowly from the bed; she had to go down and let Connie know that she was back. As for. Kade Player, she hated him for the humiliation he had heaped upon her mother, and fervently wished that she could avenge her in some way, but she couldn't see how, since she had no intention of throwing herself into the fray and confronting him with her thoughts on the matter. She didn't think she could even bear to look at him, let alone be in the same room with him. One thing Melanie and she had in common right then was that the sooner she learned the business the happier they would all be. She wanted Kade out, and she wanted him out fast. The place wasn't big enough for the two of them, and she wasn't going anywhere!
Tanya went down to the homely sitting-room and settled herself in her favourite chair by the window. There was a magazine story that she had been perusing the evening before and had not finished, so she picked it up again and attempted to lose herself in the story. After a few moments she found her eyes could not concentrate on the print. It was becoming blurred—like her life, she thought wildly.
A heavy step outside the door made her hastily blink back the tears that threatened to gush out at any moment. She couldn't let Connie see her like this, she
thought, and got up and stood looking out of the window with her back to the door.
The door opened and Connie entered. 'You're back early, aren't you?' she said, with a hint of surprise in her voice.
'Oh, I had a bit of a headache,' replied Tanya, desperately trying to keep her voice on an even keel.
'In that case I'll get you a cup of tea and a tablet,' replied Connie kindly, as she walked back to the door.
'Please don't bother ! Tanya's voice cracked on the last word, as if tea would solve her problems! She just wanted to be left alone.
She felt Connie's gaze rest on her bent head and prayed that she would let well alone until she was more in command of herself, but she ought to have known better. Connie had nursed her when she was a child and knew her too well to be fobbed off by the lame excuse of a headache.
'Like to tell me about it?' Connie asked gently, making the tears Tanya had held at bay escape and course down her cheeks.
'I can't! ' was all Tanya could say. 'Leave it, Con, there's a pet. Perhaps later, but not now.'
'Been hearing things, have you?' asked Connie astutely, and Tanya turned to face her. Connie gave a deep sigh. 'I guess it had to come out some time,' she said slowly, and walked over to a chair opposite to where Tanya had been sitting. 'Sit down, Tanya,' she said gently, and sat down herself. 'Who told you?' she asked as Tanya's slight frame sunk into her chair.
Tanya's listless eyes met the sympathetic brown ones of Connie. 'Does it matter?' she asked miserably. 'It's true, isn't it?'
'It matters a great deal,' answered Connie firmly. 'There's ways of telling a story—the right way or the wrong way. It's my guess you heard the wrong version, am I right?' she demanded.
Tanya swallowed. 'I don't see that it does,' she replied dully, 'either way it's—' she closed her eyes. 'It's disgusting!' she got out, 'and I can't see how ...' she could get no further.
'And what's disgusting about it?' demanded Connie with a light in her eyes. 'Well, go on, tell me?'
Tanya couldn't meet her eyes, she looked away quickly then said in a low voice, 'She must have been m
uch older than him, that's why !
'
'Five years!' exclaimed Connie, in a matter-of-fact voice, then added firmly, 'You're forgetting the fact that your mother was only twenty when she had you, and that made her thirty years old when Kade first came to Orchard Farm, and Kade was twenty-five. Five years between them, that was all, so what's so disgusting about that?' She leaned towards the despondent Tanya. 'I don't know what you've heard or who told you, but I'd lay odds it was a woman, and a jealous one at that, am I right?' she queried persistently.
Tanya nodded wearily, and Connie went on firmly, 'Well, let me tell you how it really was. I won't have you blaming your mother for what was a nasty quirk of fate. I loved her,' at this point her eyes misted over. 'Some folk are born to happiness, others are not,' she said simply. 'Your mother never really stood a chance. If she'd been a plain girl then she might have stood a chance of some happiness, but she wasn't, she was a beauty with an ambitious father who ruled her with a rod of iron and picked out a rich husband for her when
she was barely eighteen.' She gave a deep sigh. 'I remember her mother, your grandmother, she was a gentle, timid woman, but just as much under her husband's thumb as Drusilla was. It wouldn't have occurred to either of them to oppose his plans for his daughter's future, and to be honest I have a feeling Drusilla was only too glad to be given a chance to escape from her father's presence.'
At Tanya's half impatient shake of the head she went on firmly, 'You have to know how it was, otherwise you'll never understand any of it. She did try to make a go of the marriage, Tanya, and if it hadn't been for Kade—' she moved her plump hands in a vague gesture and drew her breath in sharply, 'but then I'm not sure, I know she was unhappy. It didn't take her long to find out that she had exchanged one kind of prison for another. Oh, your father was good to her, but he was too old for her, and set in his ways. He was forty-two when he married her and he adored her to the point of suffocation. He was a quiet man, too, and they really had nothing in common, except you, and you were the reason I believe she stayed as long as she did.
'I'm not trying to whitewash the whole thing or trying to find excuses for her, I'm just trying to make you see how it was.' She gave another sigh. 'But that's exactly what I'm doing, isn't it? Finding excuses for her, but there she was, not living in the true sense of the word but just existing from one dreary day to another. Your father wasn't one for social occasions, and she couldn't very well attend them on her own, and he ought to have thought of things like that, but he didn't.'