Without Trust. Penny Jordan
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that he did not.’
She said it with such quiet sincerity that Lark felt a lump rise in her throat. This woman was the antithesis of everything she had expected before she came for the interview. She realised now that she had been guilty of judging her on surface evidence alone.
‘My husband was a wealthy man,’ Mrs Mayers continued quietly. ‘Very wealthy. I used some of the money he had left me to set up the charity. In those days my first thoughts were that perhaps somehow we might be able to find out what caused the hereditary defect which gave rise to his death and that of our child. Those early days were probably what saved my sanity, but that was a long time ago. Now it’s very different. These days we’re far better organised, and the money we’ve raised has helped with research into the causes and possible treatment for the deficiency. A lot of work has been done. We’ve now managed to isolate the genes that cause the problem, but there is still an awful lot more work to be done, which is where you and I come in, my dear,’ she added briskly.
‘My role of chairwoman involves me in having overall control of our fund-raising activities both here and in Boston. I think you already know that I spend part of the year over there working for the charity.’ When Lark nodded, she went on quietly, ‘I’m not a young woman any more, unfortunately. In fact, my son claims that I’m too old to be doing as much work as I do, but I’m loath to give it up, so he and I have compromised. He has made me promise to get myself an assistant, which is where you come in, my dear. I do hope you’re going to take the job,’ she added whimsically, ‘because if you don’t, I’m afraid my son is going to insist I give up a very important part of my life.’
Her son, she had said, which meant that she must have married a second time. Almost as though she had read Lark’s mind, Mrs Mayers continued, ‘I have been married twice. I was devastated when John died. He and our child were the most important things in my life. I thought I would never, ever recover from the blow of losing them, but then I met Charles.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘He was exactly as I’d always imagined an English gentleman to be. He was a surgeon, and I was introduced to him by a mutual friend in Boston.’
‘And you have just the one son?’ Lark prodded, conscious of an air of sadness settling on her companion’s face.
‘Yes, it is probably just as well. He is a typical Taurean, incredibly stubborn, but I shan’t bore you by being a doting mother and telling you how wonderful he is. Did your solicitor tell you that the job would involve living in?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I know that wouldn’t appeal to most young girls these days, but I’m afraid that it’s really a necessity. You see, sometimes, because of the very nature of the work I do, it means working odd hours. We hold a variety of charity events to raise funds, and I would want you to help me with all of those. Plus there’s a great deal of correspondence which always needs answering. Does the thought of living in deter you?’
Deter her? If only Mrs Mayers knew! Lark thought wryly. She glanced round the sitting-room again, comparing its warmth and loveliness with the shabby bareness of her bedsit. What person in their right mind would prefer living in that to living in something like this—or rather, living alone, to living with someone like Mrs Mayers? Her stubborn Taurean son apparently did, because with the next breath she was explaining to Lark that there would only be the two of them in the house, plus Cora.
‘It’s very much an all-female household, I’m afraid. Do you have a … a boyfriend?’
She looked rather hesitant as she asked the question. Lark shook her head quickly.
‘Would you like to see your rooms?’
Rooms? Lark felt as though she had wandered into some sort of daydream.
‘Mrs Mayers,’ she said gently, ‘you do know who I am, don’t you? You do know about the court case?’ Suddenly she had had the uncomfortable suspicion that her solicitor had not been totally open and honest with this charming woman, and that she had absolutely no idea of Lark’s recent history.
To her surprise, Mrs Mayers said quickly, ‘Oh, yes, I know all about that. It must have been awful for you, my dear.’
‘They weren’t true—all those things they said,’ Lark told her desperately. ‘None of it was true. I’d absolutely no idea what Gary was doing.’ To her chagrin, tears suddenly filled her eyes. What on earth was happening to her—giving way like this?
‘My dear, you must try to put it all out of your mind. It’s over. It was a terrible thing to endure, I know.’
‘I could have gone to prison,’ Lark sobbed helplessly, suddenly overwhelmed by the terror of those dreadful months. ‘That’s what he wanted to happen to me. He wanted me to be sentenced to prison,’ she hiccuped between sobs.
‘He?’ Mrs Mayers questioned uncertainly, coming to sit beside her and putting a comforting arm round her shoulder.
‘The prosecuting counsel,’ Lark told her. ‘He believed that I was guilty. I know he did. I could see it in his eyes.’
She looked up at Mrs Mayers, and was astounded to see a rather odd expression in her eyes—an almost guilty expression, she realised.
‘No, no, I’m sure you’re wrong. Oh, dear, let me call Cora and she can make us a fresh cup of tea. You mustn’t get upset like this. You must put it all behind you and make a fresh start.’
But could she? Could she put it all behind her? Lark wondered miserably as she fished for a handkerchief and dried her face. What on earth had possessed her to break down like that, and in front of her prospective employer as well?
She refused the offer of a cup of tea and tried to restore what she could of her dignity.
‘You will take the job, won’t you?’ Mrs Mayers implored. ‘It would be such a relief to tell my son that I have found someone.’
She wanted to take it. The duties Mrs Mayers had outlined to her had seemed far more interesting than onerous, and yet she couldn’t help feeling that she was taking advantage of the older woman’s generosity. It was all very well for her to say that she knew all about the court case, but did she really realise the enormity of the crimes of which Lark had so nearly been convicted? And this son of hers, whom she seemed so in awe of, what would he feel about Lark working for his mother?
‘I don’t know. I think we should both think about it,’ she managed to say, guiltily aware of the disappointment in her prospective employer’s eyes.
‘Oh, dear, I’ve gone and done everything the wrong way, haven’t I? And I did so want you to take the job.’
‘I want to take it,’ Lark told her honestly. ‘But I’m not sure if it would be fair to you. Does your son …?’
‘The choice is mine,’ Mrs Mayers told her, surprisingly firmly. ‘And you are my choice, Lark.’
How reassuring those words sounded. How they warmed the coldness of her heart; a coldness which had grown steadily more intense over the months, starting with Gary’s accusations and then her aunt and uncle’s rejection of her.
What ought she to do? she wondered on her way back to her bedsit. She wanted desperately to take the job, but her conscience wouldn’t let her.
Mrs Mayers’ son didn’t sound like the kind of man who would neglect to check up on his mother’s prospective employee. And once he did and he discovered what had happened, surely he would not allow his mother to employ her. Could she take the risk of that kind of rejection? Would it be fair of her to expose Mrs Mayers to her son’s anger when he discovered the truth?
And yet, being with her today was like being given a taste of warmth after enduring the most icy cold. Perhaps the work would not tax her skills and abilities to the full, but it would give her an opportunity to regain the self-confidence she had lost during the months leading up to the trial. It would give her the chance to put the past behind her and start life afresh.
People in the kind of circle Mrs Mayers obviously moved in were hardly likely to concern themselves with