Second Chance with the Millionaire(20)

'Lucy, my dear, thank goodness. We were just about to send for the doctor. How are you feeling?'

'Fine …  I'm fine. There's no need to send for anyone,' Lucy protested,  trying to sit up and finding weakly that she could not. 'It was just a  faint.'

'Maybe …  It is a warm day, and of course you must have been shocked to  learn that Saul intends to sell the house without so much as discussing  it with you, but my dear, you look so thin and fine-drawn …  I really … '

Firmly Lucy brushed aside her aunt's concern, assuring her that she was  perfectly all right, and at last, although unwillingly, that lady gave  in.

'Very well, but I absolutely insist that you spend the night here at the very least.'

Lucy shook her head. 'I'm afraid I can't.' Quickly she explained about Pasha, her feline charge.

'A Siamese! I've always loved them,' her aunt exclaimed. 'Well that's no problem. He can stay as well.'

She wanted to protest, to insist that she was perfectly all right, but  all at once it required too much effort. It would be lovely to stay here  and be pampered by her aunt. Knowing she was being weak, but totally  unable to stop herself, Lucy gave her uncle instructions as to how to  find her flat, handing him the key while her aunt gave him instructions  as to what Lucy and Pasha would need.

To tell the truth she hadn't been feeling well for the past few days.  Initially she had put her inertia and lack of desire to eat down to the  fact that she was too wrought up over her quarrel with Saul, but as the  days had gone by and her appetite had continued to desert her a heavy  listlessness had seemed to envelop her.

It was delicious to simply lie back and be saved the necessity of making  any decision, of doing anything other than be pampered. That alone told  Lucy how seriously depleted her physical and emotional resources must  be. Normally she was so independent and self-reliant. For some reason  she felt acutely weepy, gladly accepting Margaret's suggestion that she  simply lie quietly in the cool of the study until her uncle got back.

In the event, what was to have been merely an overnight stay stretched  into nearly a week, with Margaret resolutely stating that she was far  from well enough to be living alone and Lucy weakly giving in and  enjoying her aunt's cosseting.

It was a long time since she had been so thoroughly spoiled, the calm  atmosphere of the riverside house and the placidness of its two  semi-elderly inhabitants having a beneficial effect on her  over-stretched nerves.

If it wasn't for the lassitude that continued to envelop her Lucy  thought she might have felt more inclined to make a move back to her  flat, but every time she said as much she found herself thoroughly  overruled.                       
       
           



       

When she remarked to her uncle one morning that she felt very guilty for  causing her aunt so much work, he replied with a twinkle in his eyes  that Margaret was enjoying keeping busy.

'She looks on you as the daughter she never had, Lucy,' he told her. 'And as for that cat!'

If Lucy was enjoying the spoiling then so was Pasha. The Siamese had  quickly discovered a devoted slave in Margaret, and one moreover who was  willing to feed him on such delicacies as fresh salmon instead of the  canned food which was his normal fare.

Every day he accompanied Margaret on her tour of her garden, padding  delicately over the grass with a proudly disdainful air before returning  to join Lucy in the study.

When it had become clear that her stay was going to be more than an  overnight one, her uncle had returned to the flat to collect her papers  and notebooks, and most afternoons Lucy made an attempt to get down to  work, although an attempt was usually all it was.

This morning she had been ferociously nauseous after breakfast, for the  second day running, and she was now lying outside in the garden, shaded  by an umbrella, watching her aunt deadhead her roses.

As she eyed her aunt's stooping back Lucy knew there was something that could not be put off any more.

When Margaret straightened and suggested, 'Coffee?' she held out her hand.

'In a minute. There's something I have to tell you first. I think I might be pregnant.'

She said it abruptly, wondering if her aunt would be as shocked as she  had been when she first began to suspect the reason for her continued  lassitude and sickness. She hated having to hurt her aunt with such an  announcement but her own honesty forced her to admit it. She could not  continue to remain under her uncle's roof being pampered and indulged  like a Victorian invalid when she was really nothing of the sort.

'Yes, I suspected as much.'

The calm acceptance in her aunt's voice made her lift startled brown eyes to Margaret's placid blue ones.

'You knew?'

'I recognised the signs,' Margaret told her wryly. 'I suffered a very  similar tiredness with Neville, and then again later with the one I  lost.'

'You must have wondered why I didn't say anything, but until the other day it never occurred to me …  That is … '

Her aunt sat down at her side, taking hold of her hand.

'Lucy, you're an adult woman, and the world has changed a good deal  since I was a girl. Even so, I don't see you as someone who would want  to bring a child into the world outside marriage and with no father to  help care for it.'

'I'm not,' Lucy agreed. 'Much as I hate to admit it, I've behaved as  irresponsibly as a teenager, never even giving a thought to the  consequences. Worse than a teenager,' she added wryly. 'Nowadays I think  they're far more sensible than I've been.'

'I take it that there's no chance of you and the father … ' Margaret  probed delicately, stopping when she saw the bright flash of tears in  her niece's eyes as she shook her head.

'He knows nothing about this, Margaret, nor would he want to know. I  thought he loved me, but I know now that he doesn't; I'm on my own in  this.'

'No you're not,' Margaret told her gently, 'you have your uncle and myself.'

Lucy gave her a watery smile.

'That's sweet of you, but I must leave now, Margaret, I can't embarrass  you and Uncle Leo by staying. There's bound to be gossip.'

'So what?' The grey eyebrows arched faintly. 'We might be getting on in  years, Lucy, but we aren't completely behind the times. An illegitimate  baby these days is nothing and what gossip there is will quickly die  down. You don't think your uncle and I would let you live alone now, do  you? No …  you're staying here.'

It was so unusual to hear her gentle aunt speaking so firmly that Lucy was silenced.

'I take it that you intend to continue with the pregnancy?'

'As opposed to an abortion? Yes.' Right from the moment two days ago  when she had realised she must be pregnant Lucy had known she would keep  the child-Saul's child. Already, despite her shock, the thought of the  baby soothed the ache in her heart. Becoming pregnant was not something  she would have chosen to do, but now that she was she discovered she was  not as unhappy at the thought as she might have been.                       
       
           



       

'You must see Dr Carter now,' Margaret informed her. 'I'll give him a ring tomorrow and get him to come round.'

'Margaret, before you make any plans I must tell Uncle Leo. He might not feel the same way as you do.'

'He does,' Margaret further stunned her by saying. 'We've already  discussed it, Lucy,' she told her niece. 'You see, almost from the start  I suspected what might be wrong. Leo wants you and your baby here just  as much as I do.'

She saw the glitter of tears darkening Lucy's eyes and with a small  murmur went to her and put her arms round her, wisely knowing that it  was best to let her cry.

'I promise you we won't ask any questions,' she said later when they were drinking their coffee, but Lucy shook her head firmly.

'No …  If I'm going to stay here with you, you should know the truth.'

It was at the back of her mind that since her pregnancy could not be  kept a total secret it was inevitable that if her aunt and uncle did not  know who the father was, they could quite innocently mention it to  Fanny, from whom it might get back to Saul-always supposing he returned  from the States-and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. If he  learned about the child, Saul might feel he was under some sort of  obligation towards it-and possibly to her-and she didn't want that. If  she couldn't have his love, then she didn't want anything from him.

Margaret listened silently as Lucy went briefly through what had happened, carefully editing Neville's role in the affair.

'He was so shocked to discover that he was my first lover that I knew then that he didn't love me.'

'Lucy, are you sure? You could be wrong. It seems to me that you almost  deliberately encouraged him to believe the worst of you.'

'But if he had loved me he wouldn't have believed it, would he?' she protested.

Margaret sighed. 'Perhaps not, but human emotions are tricky things, my  dear, and from what you've said to me it seems as though he would be  bitterly resentful of any part Neville played in your life. People in  love are notorious for not behaving in a logical fashion. Given the  past, perhaps he was just testing you …  hoping you would deny his  accusations.'