The Illusion of Deception
Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Marianne had never been interested in anything but music. It had been her life since childhoodher mother and the piano. At twenty-eight, she was unmarried, having briefly dated a fellow musician, but their paths divergedtoo complicated when both were talented and lost in their own worlds.
For the past three months, however, she had been seeing Oliver, a solicitor. Theyd met by chance in a café near the academy. She hadnt wanted to go homeher mother had recently passed, and the house was filled with silence and loneliness.
«You look awfully sad,» Oliver had said, watching her over his coffee. «My names Oliver. And you?»
She was beautiful, yet distant. He decided to take his chance.
«Marianne,» she murmured softly, offering a faint smile.
From then on, they saw each other often. Oliver stayed over frequently, even proposing marriage, but she hesitated.
«I cant say yes yet, Ollie. Not so soon after losing Mum.»
Her mother had raised her alone. Marianne had never known her fatherwho he was, where hed gone. She never asked, sensing it was a painful topic. Now, with her mother gone, the weight of grief pressed down. She wondered, should she try to find him?
«I dont even know how to feel about it,» she confessed to Oliver. «Ive never met him. What if he doesnt want me?»
Marianne had lived sheltered in music, oblivious to household matters. Bills, taxesher mother handled everything, warning her, «Marianne, you must learn these things. What will you do when Im gone? Youre too dreamylife will be hard on you.»
«But you manage so well! Why should I bother?» Marianne would laugh.
Life, however, was cruel and unpredictable. Her mother fell ill suddenly, fading before anyone noticed. The doctors could only shrug. «It was too late. She must have hidden itdidnt want to worry you.»
Oliver was sharp. The first time he visited Mariannes flat, he was stunned. Expensive paintings hung on the wallsthough she had no interest in art, shed grown up with them. He, however, recognised their worth.
In the evenings, Marianne played the piano, preparing for concerts, while Oliver listenedor pretended to. Hed already realised she had assets worth securing. Rifling through her mothers letters and documents, he found mention of an aunt, Evelyn, who lived in the Scottish Highlands. He resolved to marry Marianne quicklyshe was the sole heir.
Her reluctance frustrated him. She barely knew him, and something in her heart whispered doubts. But Oliver persisted, waiting, pressing. Then he discovered she wanted to find her father.
One evening, he announced, «Were having guests tonight. Lets pop to the shops for champagne.»
«Guests?»
«Ive found your father.»
«Oliverreally? Where? I always imagined he lived abroad.»
«Right here in London.»
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Oliver answered, revealing a tall, dark-haired man.
«My daughter,» the man breathed, rushing to embrace her. «Ive never seen youyoure beautiful. Im Robert Thornton.»
Her middle name was indeed Roberta.
«Your mother and I parted ways, but she never told me she was expecting,» Robert explained.
Seizing the moment, Oliver interjected, «Mr. Thornton, with your blessing, Id like to ask for Mariannes hand.»
Stunned, Marianne blinked as Robert smiled. «If Oliver loves you, Ive no objections. Ill expect a wedding invitation.»
Robert became a frequent visitor, though he offered little about his past with Mariannes mother. «It was brief,» hed say.
Marianne sent an invitation to Aunt Evelyn and her husband. They arrived early, eager to help with wedding plans. One evening, the doorbell chimed.
«Goodness, what a journey!» Evelyn exclaimed. «We took the train.»
After introductions, Oliver left, allowing Marianne time with family.
«Auntie, I found my fatherwell, Oliver did. His name is Robert Thornton.»
Evelyn exchanged a glance with her husband. «Oh dear.»
«Whats wrong?»
«Your father isnt Robert. Hes WilliamWilliam Hartley. Your mother invented your middle name. She didnt want you to know. William was the dean of your conservatoire.»
«William Hartley? Buthe was my music professor! Then who is Robert?»
«Thats what we must ask Oliver. Why the charade? And Marianneyou havent claimed your inheritance yet. The six-month wait after your mothers death ends soon.»
«Inheritance? Just the flat, surely»
«Good Lord, child! Youre not poor. Your grandparents left a fortunethose paintings alone are worth a fortune. And with no children of our own, youre our heir too.»
Marianne cancelled the wedding, packing Olivers things in front of Evelyn and her husband. He left without protest, knowing hed been exposed.
«I feel relieved,» Marianne admitted. «Something about Oliver always felt off.»
The next evening, Evelyn announced a visitor.
«Who now?» Marianne asked warily.
«Wait and see.»
The doorbell rang. Evelyn returned, arm-in-arm with William Hartley.
«My God,» he whispered, arms outstretched. «You look just like me. Forgive meI never knew. Evelyn told me everything.»
They talked late into the night. Marianne learned of a half-brother, an army officer stationed overseas.
«Only you inherited my love for music,» William said. «Im so proud.»
Marianne smiled. «I always wondered where it came from.»
In time, she grew close to her father, visiting her mothers grave together. He introduced her to his wife, Catherine, a kind woman, and later, to her brother on his leave.
A year later, Marianne married Edward, the son of Williams old friend. Hed fallen for her instantlyan economics lecturer at Kings College. Evelyn and her husband attended, pleased with her choice. Steady, reliable. Just what she needed.
