“Not at all, Countess. It's lovely.” It seemed odd to be calling her that, particularly with her easy smile and happy laughter, but he thought she might have expected the formality, and he wanted her as his ally. “I'm afraid I'm here on a rather sensitive matter. I've been hired by Arthur Patterson.” He waited for the name to have an effect on her, but she didn't look as though she knew it. “He was a partner of Mr. Gorham's many years ago, and he was instrumental in bringing Alexandra Walker to you for adoption.” He watched her eyes, and she suddenly looked as though she were going to faint. Her face went pale as she watched him. She waited for him to go on without saying a word. But it was obvious that she now remembered Arthur.

“He is very ill now, and for whatever reasons, all of them personal, I assume, he is anxious to find all three Walker girls. Their parents were close friends of his, and he feels an obligation to know that they're all right, before he …” As he groped for the right word, she interrupted.

“Isn't it a little late, Mr. Chapman? They're certainly no longer children.”

“I agree. But he seems to have let it go until the eleventh hour, and now he wants the reassurance that they've had a good life.”

“At whose expense?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She looked angry. And she stood up and began to pace the room, walking through the shower of rainbows. “At whose expense does he want that reassurance? Surely those young women no longer care about Arthur Patterson, if they even knew him. And if they did, they won't remember him now. They were all very young children.” Chapman's heart sank at the look in her eyes. It was obvious that she was prepared to do anything to keep him from her daughter. “What on God's earth does it matter? They're all grown up. They don't know him. They don't even know each other.”

John Chapman sighed. In a way she was right. But he was working for Arthur. “That is part of the reason for my investigation.” He spoke in a gentle voice, anxious to calm her down and show her that she could trust him. “Mr. Patterson wants to bring the sisters back together.”

“Oh, my God.” She sat down hard again, in one of the uncomfortable small Louis XV chairs. And then, with intransigence, “I won't allow it. What need is there to torture them? My daughter is thirty-five years old, God only knows how old the others are. Why would they want to discover two unknown sisters? It can only be an embarrassment to them, not to mention painful. Do you know what the circumstances of their parents' deaths were, Mr. Chapman?” He nodded, and she went on, “So do I. But my daughter does not, and there is no need for her to know it. George and I loved her very much, like our own, and the count took her in as his own daughter. She has grown up as our child, with every advantage that could be given her, she has a happy life with a husband and children of her own. She does not need this heartache.” Not to mention how she would keep it from her husband. The very thought terrified Margaret. Not only was she adopted but her real father had murdered her mother.

“I understand that, but maybe she would like to meet her sisters … it's possible … maybe she has a right to make that choice herself. Does she know she's adopted?”

Margaret hesitated thoughtfully. “Yes. And no. We told her … a long time ago … but I'm not sure she remembers. It's no longer of any importance. To anyone, Mr. Chapman. I will not tell her about your visit.”

“That's not fair to her.” He spoke in a quiet voice. “And if you force me to, I'll find her. I would prefer it if you spoke to her, and explained the reason for my visit. I think that would be a lot easier for her.”

Margaret de Borne's eyes filled with tears of anger. “That's blackmail. You're forcing me to tell her something that will make her very unhappy.”

“If she doesn't wish to see them, she doesn't have to. She has a right to refuse to see them herself. No one can force her. But she has the right to choose. Maybe she'd like to see them.”

“Why? Why after thirty years? What kind of people are they now? What does she have in common with them? Nothing.” It was certainly true in the case of Hilary, but he didn't yet know about Megan. While Hilary was being kicked around and raped by her uncle and living in nightmarish foster homes, her sister was riding ponies in Paris. It seemed an unfair turn of fate, but at least one of them had been blessed, from all appearances, but it only made him ache more for Hilary. Life had not been kind to her for a single moment.

“Countess … please … help me make it easy for her. She has a right to know. And I have an obligation to tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“That she has two sisters somewhere in the world, and perhaps they want to see her.”

“Have you found them yet?”

He shook his head. “No, but I think we will.” He was being optimistic, but he didn't want to share his fears with her.

“Why don't you come back when you've found them.”

“I can't afford to waste a moment. I've already told you, Mr. Patterson is dying.”

“It's a shame he didn't die before he decided to ruin everyone's life.” She sounded bitter and very angry. For years, she had shielded Alexandra from the truth, and now this stranger, this man was coming to hurt her. It made her want to kill him, and John felt sorry for her. She was a nice woman, and it was unfortunate that this was so upsetting for her.

“I'm sorry. Truly, I am.”

She looked at him long and hard. “Perhaps you are. Can't you just tell him you couldn't find her?” John shook his head and she sighed.

“I'll have to think about this. It will come as a great shock to her, particularly if I have to tell her about her parents.” But at least, John thought to himself, she was old enough to withstand it. She wasn't a young girl, or a child. Maybe it was just as well he had waited. “I'll be seeing her tomorrow for lunch. I'll speak to her about it then, if I find an appropriate moment.”

He nodded. He couldn't ask for much more. “I'm at the Bristol. I would like to speak to her myself, after you've told her.”

“She may not wish to see you, Mr. Chapman. In fact, I hope she doesn't.” Margaret de Borne stood to her full height and did not hold out her hand, as she rang for the butler. “Thank you for your visit. Good day, Mr. Chapman.”

“Thank you, Countess.”

He was escorted downstairs by André, who wore a stern look of disapproval. It was obvious to him by the way the countess had said good-bye that John Chapman was persona non grata, and he treated him accordingly as he closed the door resoundingly behind him.





Chapter 20




Alexandra found her mother, as usual, in the small flowery sitting room she preferred, but she was not doing needlepoint when she arrived, and most uncharacteristically, her mother was wearing a navy blue dress and very little jewelry.

“You look very serious today, Maman. Did you have a meeting at the bank this morning?” Alexandra kissed her warmly, and Margaret smiled up at her, but the smile looked distracted and halfhearted. She had barely slept the night before, after Chapman's visit that morning.

“No, no, I'm fine.” Margaret said distractedly, and looked around the room, as though hoping for an escape. And Alexandra frowned, watching her.

“Is something wrong?” She hadn't seen her that nervous since her father died, and wondered if something had happened to upset her.

“No, just some unpleasant business meetings yesterday.” She smiled nervously. “Nothing to worry about, darling. Ah, here's lunch.” She looked enormously relieved, and dove into her salad, giving Alexandra the latest gossip she had heard at her hairdresser's, and it was a relief to Alexandra to hear her mother laughing. But it was obvious that she was troubled about something, and as the meal drew to a close, she fell strangely silent.

“Maman.” She eyed her mother seriously. “What's bothering you? I can tell, something's wrong. Now what is it?” She hoped it wasn't her health. She was remarkably youthful, but nonetheless. And then suddenly she worried that that was why she had just gone to New York the week before. Perhaps it was to see a doctor, and not go shopping. She had brought back marvelous things for the girls, and a beautiful new Galanos for Alexandra.

But Margaret only looked at her mournfully, wishing she had never heard of John Chapman. She took a deep breath, and waited while André poured their coffee, and then discreetly left the room. Not that it mattered, he was terribly deaf, and spoke no English. But nonetheless, Margaret waited.

“I had a rather unpleasant visit yesterday. Sort of a ghost from the past.” She looked at her daughter, and her eyes filled with tears, and Alexandra was shocked. She had never seen her mother look so worried.

“What kind of a ghost?”

“Ohhh …” Margaret dragged her feet, unable to find her footing. And she looked at her daughter and dabbed at her eyes. “I don't know where to begin. It's such a long and confusing story.” She blew her nose discreetly in a lace handkerchief she'd had tucked in her sleeve, and held out a hand to Alexandra. Alexandra moved closer to her, and held her mother's hand tightly in her own. It was obvious that whatever the news from this man had been, it had been ghastly. Margaret was looking up at her and fighting back tears as Alexandra gently stroked her hand to reassure her. “Do you remember a long time ago, a very long time ago, before I married Pierre?”

“Not really, Maman.” It was all a distant blur now. She supposed if she tried very hard, she might remember something. “Why? What is it that I'm supposed to remember?”

“Do you remember that I was married to someone before your father? I mean before Pierre …” It was going to be just as difficult as she expected, and Alexandra narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, and then nodded.