Hidden Legacy. Margaret Way
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her hand.
“I hardly know what I’m saying. But why should I sit here and listen to you destroying all my illusions about the Zizi I loved?”
“The closer the link, the more intense the pain,” he said. “Elizabeth Calvert was a riddle. Secrets were her way of life.”
“Secrets and secret lovers!” Alyssa laughed bitterly.
“I’m sorry, but it’s all too far-fetched for me. Sadly Zizi’s not here to defend herself. Julian Wainwright might well be delusional. It’s not uncommon. Even so, lovers are one thing, but saying Zizi was an unmarried mother not even sure of the identity of her child’s father is quite another. Zizi may have been different, but she was much loved by her family. They would’ve looked after her. They would have protected her. She had her sister, as you seem to know—my grandmother, Mariel. Do you really believe Mariel would have let Zizi go through a pregnancy by herself?”
“Very possibly Mariel didn’t know about it,” he suggested. “Based on the little I saw of Elizabeth, I’d say she would try to see it through by herself. Again, not uncommon.”
Alyssa found herself grinding her teeth. If all of this was true, nothing could restore her faith in Zizi. “There’s never been one word about any unwanted pregnancy.”
“Who said it was unwanted?” he asked.
Anger spurted again. Had Zizi really had such a tempestuous past? What was I really? she thought wretchedly, as doubts started to pour through her breached defenses. The perennial seven-year-old who implicitly accepted whatever Zizi told her? Of course she was.
“Elizabeth was only starting to open up,” Adam Hunt was saying. “She’d committed her youth to the deepest vault. I suspect that whatever happened to her so traumatized her, she withdrew from the world. The further tragedy was her accidental death.”
Alyssa lifted her hands helplessly. “Something I just don’t understand. Zizi didn’t use that bath, not since she had a near-accident some time back.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. There was no hint of anything untoward. It was a tragic accident. One that’s quite common in that age group.”
It was difficult to deny. “That must have been awful for you.” Her beautiful eyes welled with tears she blinked away.
“Devastating,” he said, still seared by the memory.
“When I first entered the bathroom, for some reason, suicide came to mind.”
Alyssa drew back obviously, astounded. “Suicide? I can’t consider that for a moment. Zizi wasn’t the type.”
“Is there a type?” he asked. “Might she have thought of it as a way out?”
“Out of what, damn it!” Alyssa exploded. “I think I’d like you to leave.”
“I don’t blame you.” There was a grim understanding in his voice. “In my own defense, please remember that I’m carrying around my own burden of shock and bitterness. Julian held fast to his secrets, too. Only his impending death has fully opened up the past.”
She had to concentrate. “You believe this story about a child?” she ventured.
“You’d better believe it, too,” he said, his voice oddly harsh. “Julian called in a private investigator. You would know that the Freedom of Information Act changed things overnight. Julian could never quite accept Elizabeth’s story. He now knows the child lived.”
Alyssa shut her eyes, appalled. “And no doubt his whereabouts. Are you going to share this big secret with me?”
“Certainly, but not today.” He stood up, pushing in his chair. “I can see the anguish on your face. We’ll talk again later.”
“I don’t think so,” she said coldly, rising to join him.
“I do!” He spoke as though it was a foregone conclusion. “I can’t leave here without the truth. I explained that to Elizabeth. Now I’m telling you. I look on it as a duty to my great-uncle, a good man, a dying man.”
“And you’re expecting to get this supposed truth out of me?” She laughed as if he’d made a bizarre joke. “I don’t know anything.”
“There must be letters, papers, documents,” he suggested. “Some sort of written confirmation. It would be a first step.”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t gone in search of them,” she snapped. “You would’ve had the run of the house before I arrived.”
Anger was apparent beneath the calm. “I doubt anyone but you could get away with talking to me like that. I’d been hoping we could work this out together, Alyssa. Time is running out for Julian.”
She released a breath. “If you know the identity of Zizi’s child, why don’t you just go and speak to him?”
“Her,” he corrected.
She looked at him sharply.
“Elizabeth had a daughter, not a son. DNA testing would confirm the identity of the biological father if certain people were prepared to cooperate. No one can be forced. As I said, the whole story was news to me until very recently. Julian had always clung to the idea that the child was his, not Langford’s. There was apparently some incident that made him think so.”
“Good God!” She was swamped by feelings of utter unreality. “I don’t know what to make of all this. I’d hate to have to live with the thought that Zizi kept such secrets from us. I’m certain my mother knows nothing. She’d be horrified. So would my grandmother.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” She made an effort to calm down. “My mother wouldn’t keep something like that to herself. As far as we all knew, Zizi had no all-important man in her life.” Even as she said it, she realized it sounded absolutely ludicrous. Zizi would have been a beautiful vibrant young woman. She was bound to have had some sort of sex life, even if things went drastically wrong.
“That’s unbelievable and you know it,” he said. “Elizabeth may have elected to live alone after Langford was lost at sea, but Julian told me she was brimming over with life when she was young. She was the honeypot for the bees. Men fell for her in droves, and why not? She was very beautiful and very gifted.”
“And she lied to us all?” Bombarded with information, she couldn’t figure it out. “Why? Zizi wouldn’t have been abandoned by her family. They loved her. Come to that, I have no proof that you’re who you say you are. I don’t know whether to see you as friend or foe. You could be a journalist poking your nose into an old story. You could be part of some art conspiracy. Maybe you know that I’ve wanted to arrange a showing of Zizi’s paintings. I’m positive it would be an enormous success even without publicity stunts. People play so many devious games.”
“No games,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re welcome to check me out. My license is in the car.”
“I’ll come out with you,” she said, walking toward the kitchen door. “What do I owe you for the groceries?”
“Nothing. Just a friendly gesture.”
“Except we’re not friends nor are we likely to be. I’d prefer to pay you.”
“As you wish. The bill’s in my wallet.”
“Where exactly are you living?” She turned to confront him, hating him for making so many allegations. She was being asked to take in so much information yet given no time for the information to settle. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t also drawn to him. Was the attraction real, or were her defenses down? Never for a moment had she pictured anything like this.
“I’ve rented the old Gambaro farm,” he said.
She nodded curtly. “I know it. How long