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She chewed at her lip. ‘You see, I paid Andre a visit at his hotel one afternoon, and one of the chambermaids saw me leaving his room. By the time I got back, the word had spread as far as Welburn Manor.
‘Jon came right out with it. Demanded I tell him what had happened.’ She shrugged. ‘And I said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” and handed back his ring.
‘So I had to tell Mother,’ she added wryly. ‘And then all the real hell broke loose.’
She shuddered. ‘She started screaming at me, telling me I must be insane. That I’d humiliated her in front of the entire neighbourhood, and she’d never forgive me. That I could starve in the gutter because there wasn’t a chance in hell of her letting me scrounge off her, or saddling Howard with me either.’
Ginny’s head was spinning, but she managed to ask, ‘Who is Howard?’
‘The man she met playing bridge at our hotel. Quiet, quite nice-looking, living in Hampstead and all set to be our next stepfather. Or mine, anyway,’ she added. ‘I don’t think she’s mentioned you.’
‘But she’s only just been widowed,’ said Ginny. ‘Does he know that?’
‘Don’t be silly. She spotted him and had him attached to her side before the end of the first week. She’s quite an operator, our ma.
‘And, of course, this time the marriage will have no strings attached because he has a son and heir already.’
‘What do you mean?’
Cilla shrugged again. ‘Apparently she and Andrew had an agreement. He wanted a legitimate heir. She promised she could provide him with one. But she’d had a bad time when I was born, and somehow persuaded her doctor to perform some procedure to ensure she’d never get pregnant again. A “tubal ligation”, she called it. She thought that she could fob Andrew off with some excuse for her failure to produce, but eventually he insisted they both had tests, and the truth came out.’
Ginny drew a sharp breath. ‘Oh, my God. He must have told Andre and that’s why he called her a cheat.’
‘But she didn’t see it like that,’ said Cilla. ‘She wanted money and comfort, so, to her, the end justified the means. It still does, because I don’t think she’s any more in love with Howard than she was with Andrew.’
She glanced round the spacious, pretty room. ‘After all, you seem to have fallen on your feet,’ she commented with acerbity. ‘Who would have thought it?’
Ginny bit her lip and rose. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a difficult time, but I’m sure Mother will come round eventually. In the meantime, I’m sure Andre will let you remain with us while you sort out your future.’
‘Oh, I know that already,’ Cilla said, smiling up at her with a kind of lazy contentment, her eyes shining. ‘He visited me earlier—so sweet of him— and said I could stay as long as I wanted. So that’s all right.’
Ginny nodded and headed for the door, where she turned, longing to leave but impelled to speak.
Her voice shook a little. ‘Cilla, tell me, please. What did happen in Andre’s hotel room that afternoon?’
Her sister’s smile deepened to mockery. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she said.
And she began to laugh as Ginny, feeling sick, stumbled from the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AS THE LONG, agonisingly slow days passed into weeks, Ginny began to feel that she’d become a bystander in her own life, watching helplessly from a distance as Cilla morphed into the role of Andre’s future wife.
It was achieved with great charm and an eagerness to learn she had never displayed before. Baron Bertrand, having recovered from the shock of her arrival, was now openly indulgent. Even Madame Rameau, inclined at first to eye the newcomer askance, had been won over and was actually teaching Cilla the basics of cooking.
She’d pretty much taken over the daily shopping too, Ginny watching and listening in envious admiration as Cilla chatted away to the shopkeepers and stallholders in what seemed to be flawless French, courtesy, of course, of her stay at that exclusive establishment in Switzerland.
At other times, she was immersing herself in every aspect of the life of the domaine, displaying what seemed to be a genuine interest in the complex production of fine wines, and spending several hours a day among the vines or in the chai. Discussing what she had learned in the evening, over the dinner table.
As I never did, Ginny acknowledged unhappily. Because I told myself that it was dangerous to become too involved. That to do so would only make it harder to say goodbye when the time came.
