Claiming His Child. Margaret WayЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “YOU’RE very quiet, darling. Is everything all right?” Suzannah glanced away from the road to check on her small daughter riding in the passenger seat. Usually Charley chattered endlessly on their trips to school. This was their private time together free from the constraints of Marcus Sheffield’s uncertain tempers and pinched moods. The reversals in their lifestyle had changed him greatly, his unhappiness exacerbated by the effects of his stroke. They were living now in one of the “cottages” Marcus Sheffield, still owned, a comfortable small residence set on a quiet cul-de-sac near the river. Most people would have been very pleased to own it—it had an exceptionally beautiful garden—but Marcus Sheffield was making himself truly ill with misery. Sheffields had owned Bellemont Farm since the early days of the colony. The quality of wool from Bellemont sheep had been famous. Bellemont horses, too. The yield from their wines had been small but of great quality. Above all the property and the homestead were magnificent. Bellemont had a lot of history attached to it and Marcus Sheffield, had enjoyed tremendous standing. And then to have lost it all?

      “Grandpa is very cranky,” Charley said and heaved a great sigh. Grandpa had thundered at her to eat up all of her breakfast. “It’s really funny living at the cottage. It’s such a little house. I can run from one end to the other in a minute.”

      “But pretty, darling.” Suzannah threw her a comforting smile. We’ll get used to it. We have one another.”

      “I’d like us to be alone,” Charley said in a little voice, looking down at the hands in her lap.

      “But, darling, who would look after Grandpa?”

      “I’m sorry,” muttered Charley.

      “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re such a good girl. I know Grandpa has been speaking sharply lately but he’s very upset.”

      “So are you but your voice is always lovely. Grandpa is just plain rude.”

      “I’ll talk to him about it, sweetheart. It’s just that he yearns to be back at Bellemont.”

      “So do L It’s the bestest place in all the world,” Charley answered quite passionately. “I’m going to miss it when all the jacarandas are out.”

      “We can take walks along the river,” Suzannah told her consolingly. “The road is lined with jacarandas.”

      “It’s not the same,” Charley maintained sadly. “When is this person who bought Bellemont going to move in? Is he going to live there? Does he have children? I’ll bet they want a pony, but they can’t have mine.”

      “No one is going to have your pony, Charley,” Suzannah reassured her. “Lady is being well looked after. You can get to ride her at the weekend. As for the owners, I know nothing about them. The farm was bought in a company name. I’m going to take a run out there after I drop you off at school.”

      “What for? Won’t it be terribly sad?” Charley turned huge blue-green eyes on her mother, loving the way she looked, the scent of her, the way her shining dark hair curved in under her chin. Her mother was beautiful. Everyone said so.

      “It will be sad, darling.” Suzannah could hardly deny it. “But we have to be brave.”

      “Okay.” Charley leaned over and touched her mother’s hand, sharing their love. “Do you miss Daddy?” she asked.

      It caught Suzannah unawares. “Of course I do, darling,” she said on a wave of love and protectiveness. It was unlikely Charley had been spared all the rumours at school. Small children could be cruel.

      “He didn’t like me very much.” Charley pulled vigorously at her plait, her eyes darkening to jade.

      “Darling, he loved you.” Suzannah bit at her lip.

      “Did he really?” The question sounded more philosophical than vital to Charley’s interest. “He never wanted to take me anywhere. He never listened to me play the piano. He never rode with us.”

      “Daddy wasn’t a horse person like we are.” Suzannah quickly mustered an excuse for Martin’s behaviour. “Besides, he had lots of things to attend to for Grandpa. Grandpa kept him very busy.”

      Charley consulted her mother’s face again. “Grandpa said Daddy made a lot of terrible mistakes. He said some of them made us lose our home.”

      “He didn’t say this to you, Charley, surely?” Suzannah’s fine arched brows drew together.

      “He said it to Mr. Henderson when he came to call.”

      “And where were you, young lady?” Suzannah asked quietly. Henderson & Associates was her father’s law firm.

      “Behind a chair,” Charlie admitted. “I wanted to move but Grandpa walked into the room with Mr. Henderson. He was talking very loudly. I knew he was angry. I sort of froze.”

      “And you were there all the time?” Suzannah gasped.

      “Until they went into the library. Grandpa said a lot of things about Daddy.”

      Of course Martin had made terrible mistakes. “That’s because he had no idea you were there,” Suzannah answered.

      “He was really angry about all the...talk.” Charley threw her mother an uneasy glance.

      “People always talk, Charley,” Suzannah said. “We must honour your father’s memory and move on. Daddy did his best in a difficult situation.”

      “That’s because he loved you, Mummy,” Charley answered her.

      The wattles were out all over the rolling hillsides. Golden masses of puffball blossoms, so typically Australian, the wattle was the country’s floral emblem, wreaths of it entwined around the coat of arms. It was a glorious day, the scent of the profuse blossoming carried in heady wafts on the breeze. All the flowering prunus, the peaches, plums and cherries were out, too. “Roses by other names,” Suzannah thought, her eyes delighted by the sight of a whole line of them decorating a whitefenced property line. Another few weeks and her beloved jacarandas would burst into bloom, hazing the hillsides in indescribable shades of mauve-blue. In Australia the flowering of the great trees means exam time for all students, most crucial to school leavers vying for a place at university. She had passed her leaving exams with flying colours, Nick with a perfect score. Both of them had attended Sydney University, Nick boarding with a couple who took in the occasional student, while she lived in at one of the university women’s colleges. Both of them went home at weekends and holidays. The halcyon days when they revelled in the freedom of each other’s company. She finished her Arts course first and returned home to the father who had missed her dreadfully. Nick continued on with his studies, a brilliant student of whom great things were predicted.

      It was when Nick was in Sydney she and Martin had grown closer. She had known Martin all her life. He was almost like a cousin. She was much liked by his family whose dream was the two of them should marry. They went to dances. They went to parties. They went to country club dinners. Suzannah never asked, but Martin always took her. He had other dates, of course, which pleased her. Martin had only been her friend. He had been madly in love with her. She could see that now. But then he had kept the depth of his feelings under wraps, never going beyond a quick kiss goodnight, content it seemed to be her escort. The trouble always started when Nick came home, so stunning, such an achiever, the girls all raved about him. She might have been fiercely jealous with all her friends pursuing him, only the bond between them grew deeper and deeper, dominating their existence.

      They never had sex though sex was on everyone’s mind. Courting. Pairing off. Nick continued to take care of her. It was as simple as that. Didn’t they know in their hearts one day they would get married? But first Nick had to gain his Masters degree after which he would be offered the world. Such were their dreams. Dreams that would be cruelly shattered. Her father’s dream had been vastly different. Nicholas Konrads had no part in it. Nick, her