Page 20 of Miss Debenham's Secret
Her heart ached at the memory, as if it was yesterday instead of twenty years ago, the words and feelings of her younger self clamouring to be heard.But she forced them down, forced herself to be calm and cool, the headmistress again.
Clarissa knew she shouldn’t ask anything personal of him and yet it seemed churlish not to.She needed to behave as if all that they felt was in the past, for her at least, and they could chat like old acquaintances.
“And your wife, Mr.McKay?She is well?”
He frowned and then looked away.He appeared uncomfortable and then he looked directly at her.“I am unmarried, Miss Debenham.”
But that couldn’t be right?He had written to her telling her he was to be married.All these years she had imagined him cosily domesticated with some other woman.She realised she was staring at him.“I thought ...”she began, but her voice trailed off.
He was still watching her with that intense gaze.“I have never married.”
She put a hand to her hair as if to smooth it back into place and found her fingers were trembling.“I thought ...that is you said in your letter ...Surely I am not mistaken about that?”she finished, her voice trembling too.
He hesitated.“It was a very long time ago, Miss Debenham,” he replied at last.“I hardly remember what I said.”
That was cruel; he knew it was cruel and she could see he knew it.Didn’t he want to talk about it?Had the woman he planned to marry broken his heart?And yet there was something wrong.She knew it and she realised suddenly that she had known it all along.
“It was strange,” she said, and her eyes were on his, narrowed, searching, “but someone thought they saw you on the Cobb, before your letter arrived, and that you were injured.They were certain it was you but if you had come back to Lyme I thought you would surely have come to visit me.Wouldn’t you?Have come to visit me?”
Alistair glanced away.“They must have been mistaken,” he said woodenly.“Now, I’d best go.There are matters to deal with.Meredith and my sister,” he shrugged.
She wanted him to stay; she was disappointed by his evasiveness but she could hardly insist.They were near enough to strangers.“Very well.I think we are done here.”
He started to get to his feet and she let him, rising too, wondering whether or not to offer her hand.But he wasn’t looking at her; he wasn’t meeting her eyes.
He was at the door before she knew it, turning with a polite bow and then closing it after him.
Chapter sixteen
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Alistair’s mouth tightened, harsh lines appearing either side of his lips, a frown on his forehead.He was a fool; he must be a fool to have imagined for a moment that he could meet the famous Miss Debenham with impunity.
On his way here he’d tried to make himself believe that he would be seeing someone else, that Clarissa was in too lofty a position to be interviewing late-payers, and yet he’d known in his heart he would see her.And hadn’t there been some small dash of hope, that when she saw him they might fall into each other’s arms and be reunited?
Idiot.
He had lied to her all those years ago; he had hurt her and she would not forget that.Or was he giving his younger self too much importance?Clarissa had done well for herself, achieved her dreams.As far as she was concerned he was a happily married man who had moved on with his life.She probably never gave him a thought.
The truth was very different for Alistair.
There wasn’t a day went by when he did not think of her and wish things had been different.He hadn’t married and it had taken him quite a while to settle into a new life, one that satisfied him as much as the old one.He still missed the sea but he was content with his estate—his uncle had left it to him—and his farms, and prided himself on being a good landlord.
When his sister’s daughter had begun looking for a finishing school and Miss Debenham’s name had come up, at first he’d thought it must be a coincidence, but the more he thought about it the more it seemed very possible that Clarissa had managed to make a success of her chosen career.When Meredith began her term there she came home singing the praises of the place, and when Alistair questioned her—subtly he was sure—her description of the headmistress tallied with his memory of Clarissa.
“She’s fair and pretty and she has lovely laughing blue eyes.Even when she is telling us off, as she sometimes does, her eyes are still kindly.”
Clarissa, his one and only love.It was as if fate were punishing him for denying his feelings, for letting his own past get in the way of their happiness.He’d had a chance and it had slipped away from him.
Or had it?
Sometimes, in his more impulsive moments, he toyed with the idea of riding down to Hampshire and visiting her and then he would imagine her confusion, or worse, her pity, or worse still, her complete disinterest.Just as well he’d never gone ahead and done it.But then his sister became ill and Meredith’s fees were neglected and suddenly he had the opportunity to fulfil his romantic wish.
He really was a fool to think she would still care for him.And now she knew he’d lied to her; she was always so clever, she was working it out as they spoke.She would hate him for that.And she had every right to.
Which was a shame, thought Alistair, because it only took one look for him to realise how much he still loved her.She’d been his love, always, and he’d been an idiot not to ask her to marry him that day outside the school, when he’d said goodbye.Perhaps then everything might have ended differently.
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