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‘No, not since I knew you wanted our baby, too,’ she told him, pulling away a little, her eyes glowing with love now. ‘That little life was loved by both of us; that makes the difference. We can let it go—and there will be others. And before Mrs Moody comes back with that tea—’ she held out the two sheets of paper ‘—read these. This one first.’
With a brief look at her, he took from her what appeared to be two separate letters, and scanned them quickly. One was from Vivienne, written to her daughter, and, as Georgia had indicated, he read that first.
The tone was jerky, almost hysterical, and told of her desire for a reconciliation, mentioned the unfinished letter she’d left behind on the island. Told of the way she couldn’t blind herself any longer to Harold’s furtive affairs. Of her shame and remorse at the way she’d made herself believe Harold’s version of events when she’d walked in and found them wrapped around each other.
If I’d believed you, I couldn’t have gone on living with him. And I didn’t want to lose what I’d got. So I told myself I believed him and washed my hands of you. I was a lousy mother, greedy and self-centred, and I have come to hate myself.
So that was why Georgia had shed those tears! Not speaking, he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, then read what Harold had written. Not much, just an apology and an explanation.
On his return to Lytham, after hearing of Vivienne’s fatal accident, he’d found the letter she’d written among her things.
I realised then what harm I’d done, to both of you. It changed me. But I still didn’t have the courage to send the letter on to you. I give it to you now, and leave all I own to you. An attempt at recompense.
As he read, Georgia could see the relief on his face and she knew. She had always suspected that Jason believed she’d slept her way into her inheritance, that her relationship with her stepfather had been murky.
She took the sheets of paper from him, folded them and tucked them into her handbag, her face set. ‘As I said before, you get the quaintest ideas.’ She poked his flat midriff with her forefinger. ‘You thought Harold was my sugar-daddy, and I let him be because I wanted his money. All of it.’ She gave another jab. ‘Admit it!’
He felt cold all over now, and at any moment he would start to shake. There was a tight knot in his chest and he couldn’t breathe.
Was she about to tell him she couldn’t marry, let alone love, a man who was capable of harbouring such hateful, demeaning thoughts? Walk out of his life again and leave him broken?
Unbelievably, though, her golden eyes were dancing now, and she was smiling. But he couldn’t. He felt like a worm. ‘I’m sorry, Georgia. So sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She was actually grinning, and his heart began to beat again. ‘You still wanted to marry me, even though you thought I was that dreadful. You must really love me, warts and all!’
And wasn’t that the truth! He loved her more with each beat of his heart. She was wonderful, and he didn’t deserve her, but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to!
His strong teeth gleamed whitely as he returned her smile. ‘I really, truly do.’ He pi
cked her up and swung her round. ‘But I am relieved to have finally got rid of those warts!’
‘Tea,’ Mrs Moody said from the doorway, and cleared her throat, smiling at their antics.
Jason put Georgia back on her feet, sliding her down his body. She looked flushed, radiant, utterly, utterly gorgeous. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers. ‘Mrs Moody, very soon I’m going to frogmarch this little darling to the altar. Will you be the first to congratulate me?’
‘And about time too, if you don’t mind me saying it. I always knew you were right for each other,’ the housekeeper said as Jason took the heavy tray from her and carried it to the table.
‘Right.’ He surveyed the silver teapot, the plates of thinly cut smoked salmon sandwiches, the rich fruitcake and the tiny sausage rolls. ‘Make a start on this, both of you. I’m going to fetch some of Harold’s champagne. I think the occasion demands it.’
Georgia poured the tea and handed a cup to Mrs Moody. ‘Do sit down,’ she said, and passed her the plate of sandwiches and saw her settled in the chair near the fire. She took her own tea to the sofa that flanked the table, so that Jason could sit beside her. ‘Have you thought where you might live when this house is sold?’
‘Well…’ Mrs Moody put her teacup down on the delicate tripod table beside her. ‘There’s a cottage to let in the village. I’ve always fancied it—it’s right next to the church. And with that generous pension—’ her cheeks went pink with excitement ‘—I could easily afford it.’
‘Then go for it!’ Georgia nibbled at a triangular sandwich. ‘I think I know the one you mean—it has a lovely front garden, full of flowers in the summer, and a rose arch over the gate?’
The older woman nodded vigorously, her mouth full of fruitcake, and Georgia wondered why she’d ever been frightened of her. ‘See the estate agent first thing in the morning and take it,’ she advised. ‘Get in there before someone else does. And if you fancy anything from here—furnishings, bedlinen, china, anything—then do take what you want. Jason and I will have no use for it.’
They would find the right house for them, turn it into a real home, not a showplace, and there would be space for lots of children, and their pets, and it would be full of love and laughter.
‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’ Mrs Moody had gone even more pink. ‘But I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll keep an eye on the folks who buy this place. You never know, it might turn out to be a happy home. It’s the people, isn’t it, who make a house happy?’
Georgia would have wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment, but Jason walked in with two bottles of champagne and three glasses. The very best champagne, she noted. Harold had never stinted himself. Up until Vivienne’s death he had indulged in every hedonistic pleasure that presented itself, but he had never known what it was like to be truly happy.
Neither had her mother.
Georgia said a silent goodbye to both of them and raised her foaming glass to Jason, to her future. And after they’d all toasted each other, and Mrs Moody had got decidedly giggly, Jason raised an eyebrow to Georgia.
‘We could stay here tonight. What do you think?’
