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.
***
Clarissa sat at her desk, wondering why suddenly her world felt topsy turvy. Not just because she had been brought face to face with the man she loved all those years ago, but because there was something wrong. His evasiveness, his wary expression, the fact he had never married after all.
Clarissa closed her eyes and instead of trying to fend off the memories she let them sweep over her.
She was back in time; it was twenty years ago.
She had come into the cottage after school finished, hoping as always there would be a letter from Alistair, and . . .
No, she must go back further. To a week before, and a morning as she was leaving for school. Her father was saying that there was someone coming to see him and not to come back to the cottage. He’d had such an odd look on his face but she’d thought nothing much of it. An old friend, he’d said, but as far as Clarissa was aware he had no old friends.
That was the day that Annie had come to Lyme for her lessons, and she said she’d seen Alistair on the Cobb—she was so sure it was him. She’d even mentioned his hair was sticking up in the wind and reminded her of that day they’d first met. He was injured, she’d said.
At first Annie had been so sure it was him but Clarissa had talked her out of it and in the end she was no longer sure. But the incident had worried her, and she’d even mentioned it to her father, and wondered why he suddenly looked so uncomfortable. He’d become angry with her and told her to let the subject be. Shortly afterwards Alistair’s letter had arrived and she forgot Annie’s words, too busy wallowing in her own misery.
And now she knew he wasn’t married.
He’d never married.
In a flash she saw it all laid out before her, the whole wicked plot her father had woven to keep her with him. Alistair had come back but her father had persuaded him that he would be a burden on her. Her father had persuaded him to write the letter so that she would not keep hoping. She could almost hear him saying it, “Better to give her a short swift shock than a long drawn out one.”
Alistair had come back because he loved her and he had allowed her father to persuade him to fob her off. All these years she had mourned him when she could have been his wife.
He had never married.
The significance of those words brought Clarissa back from the past. She heard the ormolu clock striking again.
She had to find him!
In a flash she was out of her chair and flinging open the door. Annie started up, mouth agape, but Clarissa was already out into the hallway and running in a most unladylike manner. Where was he? Was it too late yet again? Had he already left?
“Oh please,” she murmured to herself, “don’t let him be gone.”
But there he was!