BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD

Just Rewards

Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2005

Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2005

Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780007197583

Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780007290055

Version: 2017-10-25

Dedication

For Bob, with my love

THE THREE CLANS

The Hartes shown in line of descent

Emma Harte: Matriarch: Founder of the dynasty and business empire

HER CHILDREN

Edwina: Dowager Countess of Dunvale. Emma’s daughter by Edwin Fairley (illegitimate). First-born

Christopher ‘Kit’ Lowther: Emma’s son by her first husband Joe Lowther. Second-born

Robin Ainsley: Emma’s son by her second husband Arthur Ainsley. Third-born

Elizabeth Ainsley Deboyne: Emma’s daughter by her second husband Arthur Ainsley. Robin’s twin. Third-born

Daisy Ainsley: Emma’s daughter by Paul McGill (illegitimate). Fourth-born

HER GRANDCHILDREN

Shown in line of descent

Anthony Standish: Earl of Dunvale. Son of Edwina and Jeremy Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale

Sarah Lowther Pascal: Daughter of Kit and June Lowther

Owen Hughes: Son of Robin Ainsley and Glynnis Hughes(illegitimate)

Jonathan Ainsley: Son of Robin and Valerie Ainsley

Paula McGill Harte Amory Fairley O’Neill: Daughter of Daisy and David Amory

Philip McGill Harte Amory: Son of Daisy and David Amory. Brother of Paula

Alexander Barkstone: Son of Elizabeth Ainsley and Tony Barkstone. Brother of Emily, Amanda and Francesca. (Deceased)

Emily Barkstone Harte: Daughter of Elizabeth Ainsley and Tony Barkstone. Half-sister of Amanda and Francesca

Amanda Linde: Daughter of Elizabeth and her second husband Derek Linde. Twin of Francesca, half-sister of Emily

Francesca Linde Weston: Daughter of Elizabeth and her second husband, Derek Linde. Twin of Amanda, half-sister of Emily

EMMA’S GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN

Tessa Fairley Longden: Daughter of Paula and Jim Fairley (Paula’s first husband)

Lorne Fairley: Son of Paula and Jim Fairley. Twin of Tessa

Lord Jeremy Standish: Son of Anthony and Sally Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale. Brother of Giles and India

Toby Harte: Son of Emily and Winston Harte II. Brother of Gideon and Natalie

Gideon Harte: Son of Emily and Winston Harte II. Brother of Toby and Natalie

Natalie Harte: Daughter of Emily and Winston Harte II. Sister of Toby and Gideon

Hon. Giles Standish: Son of Anthony and Sally Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale. Brother of Jeremy and India

Lady India Standish: Daughter of Anthony Standish and Sally Harte, Earl and Countess of Dunvale. Sister of Jeremy and Giles

Patrick O’Neill: Son of Paula and Shane O’Neill (Paula’s second husband). Brother of Linnet, Emsie and Desmond. (Deceased)

Linnet O’Neill: Daughter of Paula and Shane O’Neill. (Paula’s second husband). Half-sister of Tessa and Lorne. Sister of Emsie and Desmond

Chloe Pascal: Daughter of Sarah Lowther Pascal and Yves Pascal

Fiona McGill Amory: Daughter of Philip McGill Amory and the late Madelana O’Shea Amory

Emsie O’Neill: Daughter of Paula and Shane O’Neill. Sister of Linnet and Desmond. Half-sister of Tessa and Lorne

Desmond O’Neill: Son of Paula and Shane O’Neill. Brother of Linnet and Emsie. Half-brother of Tessa and Lorne

Evan Hughes: Daughter of Owen and Marietta Hughes

THE HARTES continued

Winston Harte: Emma’s older brother and business partner

Randolph Harte: Son of Winston and Charlotte Harte

Winston Harte II: Son of Randolph and Georgina Harte

Sally Harte Standish: Countess of Dunvale. Daughter of Randolph and Georgina Harte. Sister of Winston II and Vivienne

Vivienne Harte Leslie: Daughter of Randolph and Georgina. Sister of Winston Harte II and Sally Harte Standish

Toby Harte: Son of Winston Harte II and Emily Harte. Brother of Gideon and Natalie

Gideon Harte: Son of Winston Harte II and Emily Harte. Brother of Toby and Natalie

Natalie Harte: Daughter of Winston Harte II and Emily Harte. Sister of Toby and Gideon

Frank Harte: Emma’s younger brother

Rosamunde Harte: Daughter of Frank and Natalie Harte

Simon Harte: Son of Frank and Natalie Harte. Brother of Rosamunde

THE O’NEILLS

Shane Patrick Desmond ‘Blackie’ O’Neill: Founding father of the dynasty and business empire

Bryan O’Neill: Son of Blackie and Laura Spencer O’Neill

Shane O’Neill: Son of Bryan and Geraldine O’Neill

Miranda O’Neill James: Daughter of Bryan and Geraldine O’Neill. Sister of Shane and Laura

Laura O’Neill Nettleton: Daughter of Bryan and Geraldine O’Neill. Sister of Shane and Miranda

Patrick O’Neill: Son of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Brother of Linnet, Emsie and Desmond. (Deceased)

Linnet O’Neill: Daughter of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Sister of Emsie and Desmond

Emsie O’Neill: Daughter of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Sister of Desmond and Linnet

Desmond O’Neill: Son of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Brother of Linnet and Emsie

THE KALLINSKIS

David Kallinski: Founding father of the dynasty and business empire

Sir Ronald Kallinski: Son of David and Rebecca Kallinski

Michael Kallinski: Son of Ronald and Helen ‘Posy’ Kallinski

Mark Kallinski: Son of Ronald and Helen ‘Posy’ Kallinski. Brother of Michael

Julian Kallinski: Son of Michael Kallinski and his former wife, Valentine Kallinski

Arielle Kallinski: Daughter of Michael Kallinski and his former wife, Valentine Kallinski. Sister of Julian

Jessica Kallinski: Daughter of Michael Kallinski and his former wife, Valentine Kallinski. Sister of Julian and Arielle

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

The Three Clans

PROLOGUE

London: 2000

PART ONE

Quartet

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

PART TWO

Trio

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

PART THREE

Duo

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

PART FOUR

Solo

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

EPILOGUE

Keep Reading

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About the Publisher

PROLOGUE
London: 2000

The man stood in the doorway of the shop, huddled in a corner, sheltering from the icy wind. It was freezing on this bitter January morning, and he felt tempted to hurry off to the nearby Hyde Park Hotel for a cooked English breakfast.

Yet he was unable to tear himself away from this doorway, where he had always had a perfect view of the building opposite, one which he had for so long coveted as his own.

Leaning forward, he stared at the grand and impressive edifice across the road. It had been standing there for over eighty years, but it was unscathed, untouched by the passage of time and impregnable. He thought of it as a bastion of prestige, privilege and wealth.

And it should have been his.

Tragically, he had been cheated. It had fallen into the hands of Paula O’Neill, who now thought of it as her own, when in reality it was his by rights.

In the mid-1980s he had almost wrested the flagship Knightsbridge emporium and the provincial Harte stores away from her, when she had made a series of mistakes in a deal related to the stores. So flawed was her judgement that she had played right into his waiting hands.

Unfortunately, just as he reached out, had the stores almost in his grasp, he had been betrayed. As a consequence of this unwarranted and unexpected betrayal, Paula O’Neill had managed to outwit him.

She had been his nemesis for years, but it was from this precise moment that he had become her sworn enemy, had vowed to wreak his revenge on her. And soon he would do that; he would finally triumph over her.

Abruptly, the man stepped forward, moving out of the doorway, his attention on two young women who had hurried out of the store and were studying the windows fronting onto Knightsbridge.

One of them was a redhead, and he knew her at once. She was Linnet O’Neill, Paula’s daughter; however, she was now a Kallinski, after marrying the Kallinski heir last month. His thoughts settled on the little church in Pennistone village where they had been married. How easily it would have burned to the ground, killing everyone in it, and his problems with the Hartes would have been solved for ever more.

He cursed Mark Longden under his breath for losing his nerve. What a weak-kneed hypocrite he had turned out to be; he had been exiled to Australia by Paula O’Neill, and good riddance to bad rubbish.

For a moment the man was baffled, unable to pinpoint the other woman’s identity. She was bundled up in a loden cape and long scarf, and her face was obscured. But then she turned and he instantly recognized the distinctive chiselled profile.

His chest tightened, and a virulent anger surged through him as he gazed at Evan Hughes. She was his new nemesis, the American woman who had insinuated herself into the family and was about to become a Harte. He muttered an expletive … she was already a Harte, thanks in no small measure to his father’s long-ago lust. And now she threatened everybody by her very existence, especially himself. She, too, was now a target along with Paula and her redheaded brat.

A smile slid onto his handsome face; he stared hard at the two women for a very long moment before setting out in the direction of the hotel for breakfast.

That self-satisfied smile remained intact as he turned up the collar of his expensive and impeccably-tailored vicuna coat and increased his pace.

As he walked, he considered a plan he had recently formulated … one so devilishly clever it might have been devised by Prince Machiavelli himself. How ingenious it was and it would surely help to bring about the fall of the house of Harte. He was convinced of this outcome.

Jonathan Ainsley laughed out loud. They were going to get their just rewards. He would see to that.

PART ONE
Quartet

Envy slays itself by its own arrows.

Medieval saying: Anonymous

CHAPTER ONE

Flurries of silvery snowflakes were blowing in the wind, sticking to the plate-glass windows of Harte’s and on the faces of the two pretty young women gazing so intently into those windows.

Evan Hughes brought a gloved hand to her cheek and wiped the dampness away. Then she drew closer to Linnet O’Neill, shivering and hunching into her dark-green loden cape, feeling the sharp bite of the intense cold.

Instantly, Linnet glanced at Evan, and exclaimed, ‘I’m so thoughtless, dragging you outside to look at our windows on a day like this! You’re freezing. Come on, let’s go inside. We’ve seen enough.’

Linnet took hold of Evan’s arm and hurried her towards one of the double doors leading into Harte’s.

‘I’m all right, honestly,’ Evan protested as she was propelled across the floor of the cosmetics department, adding irately, ‘I’m not a cream puff, you know, I’m not going to melt away.’

‘You’ve got guts of steel, I’m very well aware of that!’ Linnet shot back. ‘It just became frightfully cold all of a sudden, and if you catch a cold, or get sick, Gideon will have my guts for garters.’

Evan burst out laughing, as usual amused by Linnet’s penchant for quaint, rather odd sayings; she was frequently startled by the other girl’s bluntness, as well as her pithiness, which could be quite stringent at times. Evan considered her recently-discovered cousin to be unique. She had never met anyone quite like her, and in this past year of working together they had become close, the very best of friends.

Moving through the eye-catching, glamorous displays of cosmetics and perfumes, Evan felt her icy limbs beginning to thaw in the warmth of the store, and she loosened her scarf, opened her cape. Smoothing her hand over her huge, bulging stomach, she confided, ‘I feel like an enormous beached whale, Linny. I can’t wait to give birth.’

Linnet’s expression was sympathetic. ‘I know. But just imagine, Evan, you’re about to have twins. TWINS! You’ve certainly given Tessa, India and me pause for thought. We forgot that twins run in this family, that they’re quite the norm. Grandy had twins, and so did Mummy the first time around, when she was married to Jim Fairley. It’s only just struck us that we also might be candidates, have the same fate as you.’ Linnet smiled engagingly. ‘What do you think?’

‘We share a lot of the same genes, I guess, so you’re probably right.’

‘Julian’s hoping so, and actually so am I. It makes life easier, having twins. Two children born together … an instant family and less time off work!’

‘Very well put,’ Evan responded softly, laughter filling her eyes. She couldn’t help thinking that Linnet’s inborn pragmatism inevitably came to the fore, but she admired her for being so down to earth.

By now the two women had arrived at a bank of elevators, and they stepped into one as soon as its doors slid open. Falling silent, they rode up to the management offices and hurried down the long corridor.

When they reached the alcove in the centre, where the famous portrait of Emma Harte hung, the two of them automatically came to a standstill, looked at each other, smiled, and then briskly saluted their great-grandmother and moved on. It had become something of a ritual with them of late, whether they were together or alone. It signified their pride in being her progeny and of working in the renowned store she had founded.

A few minutes later, settled comfortably in Evan’s office, Linnet said, ‘So, give me your opinion about the windows.’

‘I have to agree with you, they are a bit outdated. Oh, they’re beautiful, Linnet, of course. So well dressed. And they do evoke the kind of image we want for Harte’s, but they could be a bit … fresher.’

‘Not enough pizazz, perhaps?’ Linnet suggested.

‘Not pizazz, that’s not quite right for Harte’s, is it?’

‘I suppose not,’ Linnet agreed, sitting back in the chair, her eyes on Evan, whose opinion she valued.

Evan bit her lip, then shook her head. ‘I think the word I’m looking for is … glamorous. I’m talking about the fashion windows per se, Linnet, and they ought to be just a tad more eye-catching and inviting. Listen, they should say something to the customer … they should say come in, try me on, buy me.’

Linnet nodded, her face lighting up. ‘That’s true. You’ve put your finger on it.’

Evan said, ‘You’ve only recently come back from New York, and you’ve seen the store windows there. I believe you’re now finding our windows somewhat flat.’ Evan’s grey eyes rested on Linnet thoughtfully. When Linnet made no response, she asked, ‘Am I not correct?’

‘I think you are … but I’m not sure Mummy would agree.’

‘Have you discussed the windows with Paula?’ Evan probed, sounding anxious.

‘No, I haven’t had a chance, and she and Dad are staying in Yorkshire this week, recovering from Christmas, the New Year and all of their entertaining. Anyway, they’re taking a week off from work, and they just want to stay put, potter around at Pennistone Royal. They enjoy being at home with each other, doing what they’ve always done since they were kids growing up together.’ Linnet shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’m not going to say a word until she’s back here at work. Actually, Evan, there are some other things I want to discuss with her, certain changes I believe we should make at the store.’

Evan sat up straighter but said nothing, merely raised a brow quizzically, her eyes full of questions.

‘You look surprised,’ Linnet exclaimed, eyeing her carefully.

‘I am. What kind of changes do you have in mind?’

‘I’ll get to those in a minute, just let me say this first. As you well know, the fashion retrospective was a big success last summer. We gained lots of new customers, and we did terrifically well, but eventually sales dipped. What we need to do is keep our customers coming in, and we need to garner those important new ones as well. I truly believe we’re in a new age of retailing. We have to make shopping a unique experience, and offer other services.’

‘Obviously you’ve studied this carefully, and come up with some fresh ideas,’ Evan ventured cautiously, wondering if Paula would permit any changes at the Knightsbridge store.

‘I have,’ Linnet asserted. ‘For example, Harte’s ought to have a day spa, a really beautiful spa offering every kind of treatment.’

‘That would be great!’ Evan was swift to agree, and then thought to ask, ‘But where would you put it?’

Linnet grinned, and explained, ‘I think one of those boring departments such as mattresses would have to go. But seriously, we could carve out space. I know this store inside out and we could do it.’

‘I guess it doesn’t have to be a huge spa, just unique.’

‘That’s it exactly. Evan, listen, don’t you think we ought to have more places to eat? Snack bars, for instance. Especially on the ground floor near the food halls. We could feature shellfish, pizza, hot dogs, deli sandwiches, and pastas. The kind of fast food that’s actually tasty. I’m sure they’d be successful, and they would appeal to people who work in Knightsbridge and the areas nearby, as well as our customers.’

‘That’s a great suggestion,’ Evan agreed, ‘and the bars would be popular. I can feel my mouth watering just at the thought. What I wouldn’t give for a plate of oysters right now.’

‘And ice cream on top, I’ve no doubt,’ Linnet said, grinning at her. ‘Isn’t that your favourite lunch these days?’

Evan shook her head. ‘Not quite, although I have had a few peculiar longings for some very strange food combinations.’

Linnet leaned forward, her expression intense. ‘I’d appreciate any ideas you might have, Evan, you’re always so creative, and I do think we really have to revamp the store. A little bit anyway.’

Evan nodded. ‘I agree …’ She paused, hesitating, and then confided, ‘I did have an idea a while back. A floor devoted to brides. Called … BRIDE. Naturally we would feature bridal gowns, bridesmaids’ dresses, page-boy suits, and all those things. But we could also sell bridal shoes, jewellery, gifts for the bridesmaids, and even bridal lingerie. And there’s another thing: in the States wedding-planners are very popular, and we could offer that kind of service as well. People would welcome it.’

‘Evan, I love it! What a brilliant idea. And what about the Evan Hughes Bridal Collection? You know you’d love to design bridal gowns. How about it?’

Evan considered Linnet’s words. ‘I think I’d enjoy that. I guess I’ve been itching to design again.’ Evan’s enthusiasm was apparent. ‘Actually, the store has had inquiries about your wedding gown. There were lots of photographs in the newspapers, and women seemed taken with it.’

‘I don’t blame them, you created something out of this world. So, let’s sell it to them,’ Linnet replied in a rush, and at the same pace she continued, ‘Also, I think your idea for an entire floor for brides is inspirational. I’d really appreciate it if you could give me something on paper. As soon as possible.’

‘I’ve got a lot of stuff on my computer already. I’ll print it out for you before I go to Yorkshire.’

‘Thanks. When are you going to Pennistone Royal?’

‘In three days. Gideon and I are driving up on Saturday. I’m glad. I’m already a bit panicky to tell you the truth, I feel as if I’m about to give birth at any moment.’ She said this lightly, laughing as she spoke, but she was genuinely worried that this actually might happen.

So was Linnet, although she also laughed and tried to reassure Evan. ‘You’ll be fine, darling. Julian and I will be there for the weekend, so I can help with any last-minute details for your wedding.’

‘That’s lovely, thanks for offering, but there’s not much to do. It’s only the family, after all.’

‘Your parents are coming over though, aren’t they?’

‘Oh yes, and my sisters. My mother’s already here, she arrived several days ago, and the others will be flying in next week. Robin’s being wonderful, very kind, and he’s invited my parents and sisters to stay at Lackland Priory.’

‘Well, that’s nice of him, of course, but don’t forget you’ve given him a new lease of life, Evan. Mummy says he’s never looked better. And India tells me that Great-Aunt Edwina is bursting with joie de vivre, at the top of her form.’

‘So I’ve heard, but that’s surely because India is going to marry Dusty at Clonloughlin this summer. A big fancy wedding is just up Great-Aunt Edwina’s alley,’ Evan pointed out with a huge grin.

Linnet agreed, then pushed herself to her feet and picked up her coat. ‘I’d better go, I’ve loads of paperwork to catch up with. Thanks for listening, and for your input. It was just what I needed.’ She paused at the door, blew a kiss. ‘I’ll see you later.’ Smiling, she was gone.

Evan gazed at the door, her face already clouding over.

She was fully aware that Linnet’s nonchalance was assumed, that in fact she was concerned, worried what her mother’s reaction would be to her ideas for the Knightsbridge store. Although they were not particularly radical, Evan knew they would fall flat. As a newcomer, she saw Paula O’Neill from an entirely different viewpoint from her daughters and India Standish, Paula’s niece. Evan was aware that their boss was a woman who had become a trifle set in her ways. She was also determined to keep Harte’s in its traditional mode, to keep its image intact. What Linnet wanted to do wouldn’t destroy Harte’s image. On the other hand, Paula would be upset. She was Emma Harte’s granddaughter and heiress, and she never deviated from the rules set down by Emma. Having run Harte’s in exactly the same way for well over thirty years, since before Emma’s death, she wasn’t likely to make any changes now.

There’ll be trouble between them, Evan suddenly thought with a sense of foreboding. Real trouble.

Endeavouring to brush this irrational feeling aside, she turned to her computer, went to her plans for the bridal floor. She hoped to lose herself in her work, but this did not happen. That peculiar sense of uneasiness persisted, and it disturbed her.

CHAPTER TWO

He could see her in the distance, high above him riding on the escalator, obviously heading for the upper floors of the store.

The bright red hair was a fiery halo around her face, impossible to miss, as was the sleek silhouette of her smartly-tailored black suit, austere except for the touches of white at the collar and cuffs.

She was the spitting image of Emma Harte and knew that she was, because everyone had told her this for years. And they had also told her how smart she was and canny, like her great-grandmother, and that she had inherited her intelligence, vivaciousness and drive. But, Jack Figg, head of Security and old family friend, suddenly wondered, had anyone ever told her that she, and only she in the entire family, had been lucky enough to inherit Emma’s enormous glamour as well. Certainly Linnet was much more glamorous than Paula or her half-sister, Tessa Fairley. In fact, Linnet stole everyone’s thunder on that score.

Such a hard thing to define, glamour, Jack thought, walking towards the escalator. It couldn’t be acquired. A person was either born with it or not … glamour was innate, something which came from within. It had nothing to do with the length of a woman’s hair or its colour, or the beauty of her skin, or her face and figure. Glamour had much more to do with enormous presence and charisma, rather than anything else. And those lucky enough to possess it, be it man or woman, made an impact wherever they went, always caused heads to turn, induced people to make a beeline for them.

A small smile flickered on Jack’s face as he stepped onto the escalator, and he acknowledged, somewhat ruefully, that he was prejudiced when it came to Linnet O’Neill. She was his favourite and always had been. To Jack she was the smartest of the younger generation in this family. She and her cousin Gideon Harte were the best and the brightest of the whole bunch. Not that their siblings or cousins were dullards or dimwits – far from it. Very simply put, it was these two who outshone the rest in almost every way. As a whole, though, the family was quite spectacular, with plenty of brain power between them. Hard-working, diligent, loyal and trustworthy, each and every Harte was also extremely good-looking, just like Emma and her two brothers had been.

His thoughts swung to Gideon Harte, who was to marry Evan Hughes in ten days.

Evan Hughes … now there was a name to conjure with. The newly-found American relative … quite a story that was. Sent to London a year ago by her dying British grandmother Glynnis Hughes, to seek out Emma Harte … who Evan quickly found out had been dead for thirty years. Evan stumbling into the midst of the Hartes, meeting Gideon that first day in the store and falling under his spell … as he had fallen under hers. Instantly. Love at first sight was grand when it happened. Evan impressing Linnet enough to be hired to work at the store … eventually causing Paula to wonder about her origins and delve into the past to uncover the truth about Evan’s antecedents … Paula discovering that Evan was the granddaughter of her uncle, Robin Ainsley, Emma’s favourite son.

And then another story had emerged and unravelled. Robin had had a secret liaison with Glynnis during the Second World War. Glynnis had borne Robin a son called Owen, soon after her marriage to her G.I. boyfriend, Richard Hughes, who had brought the boy up as his own. At the end of the war Richard had taken his Welsh bride and the boy to New York, and there she had lived until her death. But there was a much more complex story to the relationship between Robin and Glynnis, Jack knew that now. They all knew it.

Everything was out in the open; there were no more secrets, and with their typical generosity of spirit the entire family had welcomed Evan, made her feel at home amongst them. And later they had welcomed Evan’s parents, Owen and Marietta Hughes, brought them into the clan without a murmur or qualm.

And then there was Jonathan Ainsley. He hadn’t welcomed the Hughes family at all. Now there’s the rub, Jack thought with a grimace, as he considered Robin’s legitimate son, who had been thrown out of the family years ago for double-dealing, disloyalty, and cheating the division of Harte Enterprises which he ran.

Paula, her father David Amory and her cousin Alexander had dispatched him, and he had become their sworn enemy. David was long dead, and all of Jonathan’s hatred had been focused on Paula for years. He considered her his great nemesis.

Because of his dangerous games, Jack had Ainsley under surveillance at all times wherever he was in the world, as it happened mostly in Paris and Hong Kong. Jack needed to know what Ainsley was up to, when he was up to it, and most importantly, where.

Ainsley was currently in London, and this disturbed Jack. Now that he was once again running Harte’s security on a full-time basis, he felt responsible for every member of the family. Ainsley’s sudden presence was like a time-bomb ticking.

There was Evan’s and Gideon’s marriage to think of and it was uppermost in his mind at this moment. It was taking place on Saturday, January 19th, in the little church in the village of Pennistone. Small though the wedding was going to be, most of the immediate family would be present and undoubtedly they offered great temptation to Jonathan Ainsley.

Jack was convinced that Evan and her father were undoubtedly targets now, just as Paula and Linnet were. Linnet’s resemblance to Emma must inflame Ainsley no end, get his hackles up. And he must loathe Owen Hughes, his newly-found half-brother, albeit an illegitimate brother. As for Evan, she was the grandchild Robin had always craved. Jonathan, who had been married and divorced, had never produced any children.

Stepping onto the top floor of the store, Jack glanced around. Linnet, who had been in his line of vision a moment ago, had disappeared.

After walking around the top floor for a few minutes, Jack spotted Linnet in the auditorium. Pushing open the glass doors, he called out, ‘Linnet! Good morning.’

Swinging around, a smile struck her face at the sight of Jack; she sped over to him and gave him a hug, then stepped back, and said, ‘What a lovely surprise! And how did you know where to find me?’

He grinned. ‘I’m good at that, finding people, you know. Actually, I spotted you on the escalator and jumped on behind you. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Beauty. I’m glad you’re back. How was your honeymoon?’

‘Brilliant. Barbados was hot. New York cold. And exciting. We had a great time, enjoyed both places. But it’s nice to be home, and to see you.’

Linnet had known Jack Figg all of her life, and he was more like a favourite uncle than a colleague; now she tucked her arm through his in an intimate way, and together they walked across the floor to a grouping of chairs near the stage.

Linnet said, ‘I was going to phone you a little later, to talk about Gideon’s wedding.’

As they sat down, Jack told her, ‘Everything’s in place, and the security will be as extensive as it was for your wedding last month. Truly, there’s nothing to worry about.’

Linnet nodded and leaned forward. ‘Mummy’s staying in Yorkshire to have a rest. Ostensibly. But she felt she’d better be there to help Aunt Emily and Uncle Robin with the plans for the reception, since it’ll be at Pennistone Royal. Mums could do it by herself, but the others want to be involved. Insist, actually. Robin because of Evan, and Emily because Gideon’s her favourite child. Nothing’s too good for him.’

‘Does anyone ever admit to having a favourite?’ Jack asked, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Especially in this family?’

Linnet laughed, amused by his tone. ‘No. But they have them. Any everyone loves Gid, you know that. He’s special.’

Immediately Jack thought of Gideon’s brother Toby, whom he found highly competitive when it came to his younger sibling. Toby was jealous. But Jack decided not to comment on this. He merely said, ‘True enough,’ and continued, ‘Your mother gave me Emily’s guest list, and I received Gideon’s a couple of days ago. It seems to me that family only have been invited.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

There was a small silence.

Jack broke it finally, his voice grown more serious when he said, ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Linnet … Jonathan Ainsley’s back in London, I wanted you to be aware of that.’

‘He always manages to show up at the wrong time!’ she cried, her voice rising.

‘I have everything under control,’ Jack reassured her swiftly. ‘My people have him under surveillance on a permanent basis, that’s how we know he’s back here.’ Having no wish to upset her unduly, he refrained from telling her that Ainsley had been spotted that very morning watching the store from across the road. And so he went on quietly, his voice as always calm and soothing, ‘I’m simply telling you this because I promised to keep you informed about him. I just want you to be aware … and on your guard, so to speak.’

‘I will be. Have you mentioned it to Gideon?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Shall I say something to Evan?’

‘No, don’t. It could upset her, and, after all, she’s very, very pregnant.’

‘She’s holding her own, though. And the babies are not due until the last week of March. But it’s probably better she doesn’t know Ainsley’s around. She and Gideon are going to Yorkshire to stay at Pennistone Royal until the wedding. She can take it easy up there, have a rest.’

‘And she’ll certainly be safe,’ he murmured in response. ‘That place is like Fort Knox these days.’

‘Thanks to you! And no doubt Gid’s had you working on Beck House. Installing a security system, I bet.’

‘He has indeed,’ Jack answered, smiling. ‘It’s a lovely old house and they’re both thrilled it came on the market when it did. Gideon especially, since his father owned it once.’

‘With Daddy when they were gay young blades,’ Linnet pointed out. ‘Gid told me it’s almost ready for them to move in.’

‘I know. But getting back to the guest lists, do you think there might be any last-minute invitations? To non-family members?’

‘I doubt it. You see, Jack, Evan hasn’t really made any friends, I mean outside the family. She’s been caught up with Gideon most of the time, and with India, Tessa and me. Oh wait a minute, there’s that couple who own the hotel … George and Arlette Thomas. Her father’s friends. I’m sure she would probably invite them, but—’

‘She did,’ Jack cut in, ‘they’re on Gideon’s list.’

‘Then I can’t think of anyone else.’

Jack nodded. ‘As I said, there’ll be plenty of security, but I do need your help with one thing, if you don’t mind.’

‘Tell me.’

‘More than anyone else, you know every person who’s going to attend the wedding. You would spot a stranger in a crowd, and instantly. Far quicker, certainly, than me. Or any of my people. And also, although I’m acquainted with every member of the family, I obviously can’t be everywhere at once. So, here’s what I want you to do … Keep your eyes peeled, make a mental note of everyone who’s there, and particularly strangers, and tell me or one of my operatives if you see anyone you don’t know. Immediately.’

Linnet nodded her head. ‘I could wear a wire, or whatever you call it. A mike and an earpiece. Like you did at my wedding.’

Jack burst out laughing, and sat back in the chair, staring at her, amusement reflected in his eyes. There was no one quite like her … except for Emma when she was alive. She would have made exactly the same kind of outrageous suggestion as Linnet just had.

‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked, looking baffled.

‘Because only you or your great-grandmother would have said that to me. My God, you’re so like her.’

‘I’m glad I am, but getting back to the wedding, I could wear an earpiece and a mike, couldn’t I, Jack? I mean, why not? What’s to stop me? Or who?’

‘No one really, but don’t you think it might alarm some members of the family? Like Great-Aunt Edwina, for instance.’

‘Oh come on, Jack, not Edwina! You know better than that. Anyway, if Edwina were to spot me with a mike on my lapel she’d want one, too. You know she’s the general in the family, bossing everyone around and taking charge at the drop of a hat. But she’s a good egg.’

‘Indeed,’ he murmured, biting back a smile. There was no denying it, at times Linnet took his breath away, but he had no doubts about her whatsoever. She was brave and determined as well as smart, and one day she would take charge, be the one to run the Harte stores. She was a star.

‘Jack, what about it?’ she pressed. ‘Can I wear a mike?’

‘It’s not a bad idea at that, Linny,’ he replied at last, thinking: But would Paula stand for it? Wouldn’t she balk at her daughter being miked-up at a family wedding?

Almost as if she had read his mind, Linnet announced, ‘Mummy might object. If she knew. But she doesn’t have to know. I’m sure I can hide the mike on my lapel, behind a large flower. And nobody would notice an earpiece. My hair’s longer.’ As she spoke she fluffed out her auburn bob, staring at him pointedly, her green eyes intense.

‘Your hair is longer, that’s true,’ he murmured and stood up, glancing at his watch as he did. ‘Listen, I’ll get back to you on that idea later in the day. Let me think it through. Basically, I don’t believe it will be necessary. It is a small wedding, after all.’

As Jack moved away, heading for the door, he turned, and said, ‘Oh, there is one other thing. Your mother told me that all of the help at the reception are locals, who’ve been employed at Pennistone Royal in the past. Just scan them for me on the day, okay?’

She nodded, and rose, walked over to him. ‘I’ll mention it to Margaret this weekend, make sure they’re old hands. And of course I’ll keep my eyes open at the reception.’

‘Thanks, Beauty.’

Linnet fell in step with him, and just before they reached the door of the auditorium she touched his arm lightly. ‘Jack?’

‘Yes?’ He looked down at her questioningly.

‘Do you really think Jonathan Ainsley might try to cause trouble? Do something insane?’

‘No, I don’t think he will. He’s too smart. On the other hand, I like to be one step ahead of the other guys. So I play it safe.’

CHAPTER THREE

Evan picked up a thick, felt-tipped pen and in her bold, flowing handwriting wrote across the manila folder the word BRIDE. Then she pushed the folder to one side of the desk, smiling to herself as she patted it almost lovingly. She had not realized how much work she had already done on the idea of creating an entire floor devoted to brides until she had gone into her computer an hour ago and printed everything out.

After reading all of the pages written weeks ago, she knew she had a workable and comprehensive blueprint for the bridal floor, and she was pleased. She hoped that Linnet would also be pleased. More than likely she would be. But what about Paula O’Neill? Would their boss really let them create a floor catering only to brides at the expense of other departments?

The question hung there in the air for a moment. It was a tantalizing question for which she had no answer. A sense that problems were brewing, a premonition of trouble ahead still lingered in her mind. Very determinedly she tried to push this away, disinclined to ponder problems today. As Linnet would say, in her quaint way, there were better fish to fry.

Rising, Evan walked across the floor to her long work table at the other side of her office. The top of the table was covered with photographs of the house Gideon had bought in Yorkshire, and she had an overwhelming desire to look at the pictures again.

Sitting down at the table, she stared at those which she had laid out days ago. Once more she experienced the now-familiar pleasure and excitement that knowing this would be her home engendered in her, as well as a genuine longing to be there. Such feelings were paramount in her these days, and she could hardly wait to move in.

As she shuffled through photographs of the grounds and the exterior of the house, she thought of that Saturday morning last October, only three months ago, when she had first seen the house.

Gideon had driven her over to the small, picturesque village of West Tanfield, and had explained on the way that he wanted her to look at an old house with him. ‘It’s a house I’ve always liked, and it’s on the market,’ he had said. ‘My only worry is that it might be a bit ramshackle and need too much work. But we can walk through it, and see how we feel about it, can’t we?’

Evan had immediately agreed, even though she was taken by surprise that he wanted a house in Yorkshire when they both lived and worked in London, especially since they could stay with his parents or at Pennistone Royal whenever they felt the need to escape the city. But then she had suddenly realized that he wanted a place of their own, especially after the twins were born, because his apartment in London, where they were currently living together, would become rather cramped. The idea of a house in the Dales appealed to her.

On the drive over she learned that West Tanfield was halfway between Pennistone Royal, the great stately home which had been Emma’s and was now Paula’s, and Allington Hall, his parents’ family home, which had been inherited from his grandfather, Randolph Harte.

Just before they reached the village Gideon had begun to laugh softly, and had confided that many years earlier his father and Shane O’Neill had actually owned the house they were about to see. Winston and Shane were the same age, the closest of friends since childhood, and had been at Oxford together. They had apparently bought the house originally as a property investment, intending to renovate it and then sell it for a vast profit.

Instead the two young bachelors had become so attached to the house whilst working on it they had finally decided to move in themselves. It became their weekend retreat until Winston married Emily Barkstone, Gideon’s mother. Shane had continued to live at Beck House for a year, but in the end he had felt lonely without his old sparring partner, and had finally told Winston he thought they ought to put the house on the market. Winston had agreed they should sell, and the house was snapped up almost immediately. And in the ensuing years it had changed hands only once.

‘Dad told me it was on the market,’ Gideon had gone on, as he parked outside the house which stood at the bottom of a small hill at the edge of the village. ‘He said that whatever its state I shouldn’t worry too much, because he and Shane had practically rebuilt it. Anyway, come on, darling, I have the key from the estate agents. Let’s go and take a look at what might become our family home.’

He had jumped out of the car and run around to the passenger side to help her alight, and then led her to the black iron gate set in an ancient stone wall. It was quite a high wall with lichen and moss growing between the stones, and many tall trees were visible above it.

‘Beck House,’ she had read aloud when they finally stood in front of the gate. ‘I like the name, Gid.’

He had merely smiled and led her through the gate, along the path to the house. ‘It’s called Beck House because there’s a little stream, a beck, running through the grounds.’

The minute she saw it Evan was instantly enchanted, and she knew whatever its condition she wanted to live there. It was positively beautiful.

Situated in a small dell, it was surrounded by sycamore trees and huge old oaks which encircled the back. Elizabethan in origin, it was a charming house, rather picturesque, low and rambling, made of local stone. It had tall chimneys, leaded windows, and a half-timbered front façade that was Tudor in style.

In her mind’s eye Evan had always had an image of what an English country house should look like, an image instilled in her by her grandmother Glynnis Hughes. And on that cool and sunny October Saturday morning, she had seen this image in her mind’s eye take shape in reality. And when he put the big old key in the lock of the front door, her excitement knew no bounds; she couldn’t wait to step inside.

Evan knew she would never forget how she had felt when she stepped over the threshold and looked around the front hall … she filled with a wonderful sense of joy, and she felt, deep within herself, that she was going to live here with Gideon and their children … and she knew without any doubt whatsoever that they were going to be happy here. The house had a good feeling, and she was at ease, felt welcomed.

She remembered that morning so well … walking through the big empty rooms … empty of furniture, but full of atmosphere and sunlight and dust motes rising in the brilliant shimmering air. She thought now of the enormous, old-fashioned kitchen with its dark-wood ceiling beams, mullioned windows and huge stone hearth. It was a family kitchen, the core of the house, the kind every woman loved. To her relief the reception rooms on the ground floor were spacious and well proportioned, while the upstairs bedrooms were cosy and intimate.

‘It’s the perfect house for a family,’ she had told Gideon without a qualm. ‘It’s just right for us, and it has family history as well, doesn’t it?’

‘Indeed it does,’ he had replied, his eyes full of laughter as he kissed her cheek, and asked, ‘Shall we buy it then?’

‘Yes, please,’ she had answered him, and then wrinkled her nose. ‘If it isn’t too ramshackle.’

Gideon had laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s a bit ramshackle, actually, at least not the interiors. The outside woodwork needs a few coats of paint, and the stone wall needs repairing, but otherwise, I think it’s rather … a beauty. Dad said the structure was solid, the bones good, and he was correct.’

And so a decision was made in the middle of what would become their living room before they left, and three weeks later the house was theirs.

Evan picked up some of the pictures and looked through them for the umpteenth time. The interiors had all been repaired and renovated, the walls and doors painted, the floors restored and polished, the chimneys swept by the local chimneysweep, and every window had been washed by the window-cleaner.

Beck House was ready. It awaited them. And next week, whilst they were in Yorkshire getting ready for their wedding, she and Gideon and his mother Emily were going to supervise the hanging of the draperies, the laying of the carpets and rugs, and the placement of the furniture. Many of the wood pieces, which were mostly antiques, had been gifts from Emily and Paula. Both women had hunted through their attics and come up with some really wonderful finds.

Evan had sent computer photographs of the best pieces to her father in New York, and he had sent her an email almost immediately, telling her how good the furniture was, in his opinion. All were Georgian, he was certain of that, he had written, and he had told her he couldn’t wait to look them over when he arrived next week.

Evan sat back, reading his latest, very loving email, relieved and happy that their relationship was back on an even keel. Her father was now warm and caring; it was as if there had never been a rift between them.

A light knock on the door brought Evan’s head up from the photographs, but before she could utter a word, Ruth Snelling, her new secretary, poked her blonde head around the door.

‘Do you need anything, Evan?’ she asked in her breezy voice, with a bright smile. As usual, she was showing her concern for her boss, as solicitous of her as she had been from her first day of working at Harte’s.

‘I’m fine thanks, Ruth. But perhaps you could get me a bottle of water, flat not fizzy, please?’

‘No problem. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

‘Don’t go, Ruth,’ Evan exclaimed. ‘I have something for Linnet. Do you mind dropping it off in her office?’ As she spoke Evan rose, moved slowly across the floor, picked up the manila folder and held it out.

Still smiling, Ruth came and took it from her. ‘See you in a minute,’ she said as she disappeared, almost running out of the office, intent in her purpose.

Evan smiled to herself. The young woman was extremely eager to please and efficient; nothing was too much trouble for her. Things had been running smoothly since her arrival a few weeks ago, and Evan kept asking herself how she had ever managed without Ruth. I was always slightly behind the eight ball, that was the problem, Evan thought now as she sat down in her chair and glanced at her computer, needing to know if she had any emails. There were none so far this morning, which pleased her. Work had begun to pall on her lately, and all she wanted now was to be settled in the peace and quiet of Pennistone Royal.

Paula had insisted she stay there until the wedding in ten days’ time, and she was happy to do so. Evan felt at ease in that great house, where she had spent most weekends for the past year. It had been bought in the 1930s by her great-grandmother; she loved being there because she felt the presence and spirit of Emma Harte within its walls. Not only that, it was truly familiar by now and beloved by her. Everyone had made her feel at home, and Margaret, the housekeeper, never stopped fussing over her, was kind, motherly, and also protective of her these days.

Emily hadn’t minded that she wasn’t going to stay at Allington Hall, and had insisted she had completely understood why Evan would want to be in such a familiar place as Pennistone Royal. Gideon’s mother was one of the sweetest women she had ever met, and hilariously funny at times, frequently a little bit blunt, just as Linnet was.

When Evan had mentioned this to Paula she had laughed and nodded, her violet eyes twinkling. ‘They both take after Emma, I’m afraid. She was blunt, too, and Linnet, in particular, has inherited Emma’s penchant for genuine pithiness. My grandmother always said what she meant, and so does Linnet.’

‘And what you see is what you get,’ Evan had replied, and the two of them had laughed.

Winston Harte, Gideon’s father, was just as lovely as Emily. Both of them had made her feel really special from the moment she had started going out with Gideon. Like everyone else in the family, they had welcomed her graciously, and had shown their approval of her as a wife for their son. She couldn’t have wished for nicer parents-in-law; or for a more lovely sister-in-law than Natalie, now back from Australia. She was pretty, and a charming girl, and they had taken to each other immediately.

The only person who seemed somewhat aloof and in a sense rather removed was Gideon’s brother, Toby. Linnet had once confided to her that Toby was inordinately jealous of Gideon, in every possible way. ‘And his marriage to the actress faltered almost immediately, so I guess his nose is now out of joint because Gid’s got lovely you.’

Not wanting to get into a long discussion about Toby, for fear of seeming disloyal to Gideon, she had merely nodded; luckily, Linnet had suddenly realized she was late for a meeting and had rushed off, much to Evan’s relief. The subject matter had never arisen again.

Pushing herself to her feet, Evan went back to the work table where she sat down, and slowly began to look through the numerous photographs Gideon had taken of their wedding presents. Everyone had been extremely generous, had sent extraordinary gifts, which were not only costly but beautiful as well. As Gideon had said, with a chuckle, ‘We don’t have to put any of these in the attic to be forgotten. We can use everything.’ She had agreed, also laughing.

‘Hi there! How’re you doin’?’

Evan sat up with a jerk, not having heard the door open. But she stared at it now, in disbelief. Standing on the threshold, larger than life, was her twenty-three-year-old sister, Angharad, completely decked out in brilliant red, from her long cashmere muffler to her high-heeled leather boots. Not only that, she had dyed her hair, was now a platinum blonde.

Evan’s jaw dropped, so startled was she, and it took her a moment to find her voice. ‘Heavens to Betsy!’ she said at last. ‘What are you doing here? I mean, Mom told me you weren’t coming to London ‘til next week.’

‘I decided to come early. I wanted to mosey around London before heading north.’

Rising, Evan went over to her sister and kissed her cheek; her expression was warm as she went on, ‘Well, goodness, don’t stand there, come in, come in.’

Angharad did as Evan suggested, her eager and curious brown eyes glancing around the room as she sauntered across the floor. ‘This office is fab. But then you always do manage to get a nice place to work, nicer than most people.’

Ignoring this hostile jibe, Evan murmured, ‘It’s warm in here, you’d better hang your coat and scarf in the closet behind you.’ Evan padded across her office to the work table, where she began to pick up some of the photographs spread out on it, knowing it would be wiser to put them away before Angharad saw them. She was extremely nosey. But Evan was too late; her sister was heading her way. Turning away from the table, standing in front of it, Evan said, ‘Let’s sit on the sofa over there, it’s comfortable. And would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?’

Angharad shook her head, standing stock still in the middle of the room, staring at Evan intently. After a moment, she exclaimed, ‘I can’t believe your size! It’s unbelievable. You’re so huge.’ She began to laugh, the laughter sounding harsh, brittle, and not at all warm. ‘You look as if you’re about to give birth to baby elephants not twin boys.’

Wincing at these words, Evan did not respond, and in a gesture that was totally involuntary she found herself putting both of her hands on her stomach, almost protectively, as if safeguarding her boys. She hadn’t appreciated Angharad’s tone; she recognized it only too well. It held that hint of envy which the younger woman had never been able to disguise, not even as a child. It was indicative of her competitiveness, her absolute need to put Evan down whenever she could. She had always been jealous.

Taking a deep breath, Evan now said softly, ‘I suppose you’re staying at George’s hotel with Mom.’

‘Yes. And Mom’s coming over soon. To meet me here. We thought we could all have lunch together. What do you think?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Evan swiftly agreed, although she was annoyed that her mother hadn’t seen fit to phone first. She had a lot to do before the end of the day, and lunch had not been on her agenda. She wanted to fulfil her work schedule before taking maternity leave.

Stepping around her, Angharad was suddenly at the work table, looking down at the photographs of Beck House, and within seconds she had zeroed in on the pictures of the furniture.

‘This is all Georgian,’ she remarked, her voice rising, her eyes scanning everything with total absorption. Picking up one picture, she scrutinized it intently. Then turning to Evan she asked, ‘Where did this piece come from?’

‘Out of the attics at Pennistone Royal. That’s Emma Harte’s former home. Now her granddaughter, my boss Paula O’Neill, lives there. Paula gave that sideboard to Gideon and me. It was a discard, found in the attic.’

‘A discard. Who would ever do that? It’s a treasure. Have you had it evaluated?’

‘No, we haven’t. I was waiting for Dad. I sent him a set of the pictures, so he could look at them… after all, he is one of the great experts on Georgian.’

‘I know that. I work with him, don’t I? When did you send them?’

‘Oh, three or four weeks ago now,’ Evan answered, staring at Angharad.

‘I wonder why he didn’t show them to me.’ Angharad frowned, her dark eyes filled with puzzlement, her mouth settling in a tight line. She appeared to be annoyed.

‘Maybe he glanced at them and put them away without thinking,’ Evan suggested, wondering herself why their father had not shown them to the daughter who worked alongside him in his antiques gallery in Connecticut. The daughter who was actually his protégée.

‘Is this the house?’ Angharad asked, leaning over the table, peering at the other set of photographs.

‘Yes, that’s it. Beck House it’s called.’

‘Very nice. Very nice indeed,’ Angharad murmured, without turning around, her interest captured by the pictures of the various rooms, as well as the other snaps of the furniture which Emily and Paula had unearthed at Allington Hall and Pennistone Royal and given to them.

After a while, she straightened, almost angrily, and turned away from the many pictures. With a swift glance at Evan, her eyes bitter, cold, she said, ‘Well, you’ve done all right for yourself, haven’t you? But then you usually do land on your feet, Evan. For as long as I can remember. You had everyone wrapped around your little finger when you lived at home. Mom, Grandma Glynnis, and particularly Dad and Grandfather. You were always their favourite. Elayne was second. I came last.’

‘But it wasn’t like that,’ Evan said in a soft tone. ‘You weren’t last. No one was last … and I certainly didn’t come first. Dad treated the three of us alike.’

‘That’s a laugh. It’s me you’re talking to, Evan. Not Elayne. Me. I saw things very clearly. I was adopted and therefore I was not blood … I didn’t have the Hughes blood running through my veins. Not like you. Oh no. You were the precious one, the peach darling.’

‘Oh Angharad, please, don’t be like this. Elayne is adopted, too, and Dad loves you both as much as he loves me,’ Evan exclaimed.

‘If you believe that I’ll sell you a bridge. In Brooklyn.’

Evan shook her head and began to walk to her chair, suddenly feeling sick, needing to sit down. This was an old story, and seemingly one which had not lost any of its colour or drama over the years. Angharad had been repeating it for years, fully convinced that she was the lowest of the low on the family totem pole. It had always annoyed their grandmother, this attitude, this complaining, and whining. Their father had simply ignored it, while their mother had tutted and cooed and embraced Angharad closer than ever, spoiling her in a way that made Elayne, the other adopted child, feel neglected.

‘You’re his princess!’ Angharad cried. ‘The best, the smartest, the brightest, the most beautiful. You were always held up to us as the golden girl. You were the great example. We had to shine like you.’

‘You’re being really silly,’ Evan remonstrated, trying to remain calm. ‘It was never like that.’ Her protest fell on deaf ears.

‘You’re still the example, even today. But you must know that, by now. Evan the glorious one. The great-granddaughter of the famous Emma Harte. Talented and smart enough to get herself a top position at Harte’s. Without blinking an eyelash. So beautiful and bewitching she captures the Prince Charming of the Harte family. The super good-looking, super rich Gideon. And now she’s fulfilled Gideon’s desire to present his father with an heir. But golly gee whiz, not one heir. Oh no, not Evan. She’s producing two. And his father’s equally besotted with the great Evan, who’s going to present him with two instant grandsons.’

‘Please don’t do this,’ Evan pleaded, anxiety taking hold, her annoyance with her younger sister making her unexpectedly tense. It seemed to her that her anxiety was suddenly spiralling upwards into a cloud that settled around her.

‘Do what?’ Angharad asked, her voice icy.

‘Pick a fight like this. The way you did when we were little. Nobody wins in the end.’

‘I’m not doing any such thing,’ she shot back, her face flushing darkly with anger. ‘I’m telling you the truth is all. And Elayne’s as sick as I am of hearing about your damned wedding. Dad never stops talking about walking you down the aisle. Or talking about you. The bride of all brides.’

‘So why did you come?’ Evan demanded sharply, her indignation flaring. ‘If this is the way you feel, why didn’t you boycott my marriage to Gideon?’

‘Mom wanted us here.’

‘Don’t do me any favours,’ Evan shouted, losing her temper, and took a step backward, one hand groping for the arm of the comfortable typing chair. As her hand touched the arm it rolled away on its casters, and she fell, crashing heavily onto the floor. Evan cried out, and clutched her stomach.

Frightened by what had happened, Angharad remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. Her eyes were wide with shock. Swallowing hard, she asked in a whisper, ‘Are you all right? Evan? Evan? Are you all right?’

Evan moaned and brought her knees up to curl in a ball, still holding her stomach. Her face was now chalk white and she did not answer.

‘Evan, please say something,’ Angharad begged, and stepped closer to her. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I don’t know,’ Evan responded faintly. ‘Go and look for my secretary … Ruth.’

There was no need for Angharad to search for help. At that precise moment Ruth came into the office carrying a glass and a bottle of water, followed by Linnet and Marietta Hughes.

‘Oh my God!’ Marietta cried out when she saw her daughter sprawled on the floor, and unceremoniously, not heeding the others, she pushed past Ruth and Linnet, hardly looking at them.

‘What’s happened? My God, what’s happened to you, Evan?’ Marietta fell to her knees next to Evan, peering at her daughter, alarm racing through her.

‘Call my doctor. I can’t lose my babies, I can’t,’ Evan whimpered, tears sliding down her cheeks.

CHAPTER FOUR

Gideon Harte pushed open the door of the waiting room at Queen Charlotte’s in Chelsea, the hospital where Evan had been taken, and hurried into the room, his expression tense and worried.

Three pairs of female eyes instantly focused on him, and before he could say a word Linnet jumped up and rushed over to him.

‘Evan’s all right, Gid!’ Linnet exclaimed, wanting to reassure him at once. ‘She’s not hurt,’ she added, taking hold of his arm in a proprietary way.

‘Thank God,’ he answered, a surge of relief rushing through him. ‘I’ve been anxious all the way here.’

Marietta came to join them, and leaning towards Gideon she kissed his cheek. He put his arm around his future mother-in-law, a woman he genuinely liked, and asked, ‘What happened to Evan, Marietta? When Linnet rang me at the paper she said you were in Evan’s office when she had the accident.’

‘I wasn’t in the room, Gideon,’ Marietta answered swiftly, shaking her head. ‘Evan was already lying on the floor when I arrived. I’d no idea what had happened. I ran to her, of course, and when I was kneeling next to her she said she’d had a fluke accident with the chair. She then asked me to call the doctor. Linnet, who was with me, did so, and then we brought her here to the hospital.’

Gideon was frowning when he asked, ‘Did she fall out of the chair? Is that what you mean?’

‘Not exactly. Evan told me she had reached behind her with one hand, pulled the chair towards her and then sat down. Somehow the chair rolled away, and down she went on the floor. But she’s fine, Gideon, just as Linnet said. The fall scared her more than anything else, I think.’

‘I understand. The nurse at reception told me the doctor’s still with her. Why is that? Do you know, Marietta? Linnet?’ He looked from one woman to the other questioningly.

‘The doctor gave her a thorough examination when we arrived and came to tell us she was not injured, that all was well. Then he went back to her room.’ Marietta shrugged lightly, shaking her head. ‘I’m not sure why, he didn’t say.’

‘I hope he won’t be too long,’ Gideon responded, and then glanced across at the silent, blonde young woman who was sitting in a corner. She was dressed entirely in red, which he thought somewhat flamboyant. He wondered who she was. He had never seen her before.

Marietta, noticing his sudden curious glance across the room, exclaimed, ‘How rude I’m being, I must introduce you to my youngest daughter Angharad. Evan’s sister.’

On hearing her name Angharad immediately jumped to her feet. Thrusting out her hand she said, ‘Hello, Gideon. It sure is great to meet you.’

Gideon took an instant dislike to her, discovered he had no desire to go anywhere near her. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to take hold of the outstretched hand. It was unnaturally cold, icy, in fact, and he dropped it after giving it a swift shake.

‘How do you do?’ he said in a most formal voice, his manner reserved and coolly indifferent.

She stared at him, looking him up and down in a brazen way.

He stared back, rapidly taking everything in. There was no question that she was pretty, with finely-wrought features, perfect complexion, and large, dark brown eyes. And yet Gideon found her curiously repellent; he took a step backward. His guard went up and his gut instinct kicked in, warning him to be wary of this one. Danger signals went off in his head. She’s trouble, he thought.

It struck him that the platinum blonde hair did nothing to lighten the darkness he sensed lived deep within her, and suddenly, in a flash of cold clarity, he saw her in his mind’s eye as she really was … a small, dark, furtive creature, hiding in corners, peering through keyholes, spying on people, eavesdropping, forever seeking her own advantage. Momentarily, he was startled by these curious thoughts, and yet he was convinced he was accurate in his assessment of Angharad Hughes. He sensed that wickedness dwelt there.

Moving away from her, anxious to put distance between them, he strode across the floor, then turned, glanced at Linnet, his hand on the door knob. ‘I’m going to talk to the nurse at reception. I must see Evan, and right away.’ As he jerked open the door, he found himself staring into the face of Charles Addney, Evan’s obstetrician.

The doctor, who had been about to enter the room, exclaimed, ‘There you are, Mr Harte! I was just coming to fetch you. Let’s go and see Miss Hughes, shall we?’

Gideon nodded and stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. ‘I understand she’s all right. She is, isn’t she?’

‘Absolutely. Except for a bruised coccyx. That’s the tail bone at the end of the spine. She went down rather hard, I’m afraid. But there’s no real damage, and the babies are perfectly fine.’

Gideon heaved a sigh of relief, then asked, ‘So I can take her home, can’t I?’

The doctor paused in the corridor and turned to face Gideon. ‘There’s no reason why you can’t, but she must have bed rest for the remainder of the day. I’ve done a thorough examination, and no harm’s been done, but I do think she should start her maternity leave from her job. Immediately.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Gideon responded as they began to walk along the corridor again. ‘I’ve been trying to persuade her to do that for several weeks now. We’re going up to Yorkshire on Saturday, but perhaps we ought to leave tomorrow. Her problem is that she’s a workaholic …’ His voice trailed off.

‘I know that, and I’ve just had a long talk with her about her work. I told her to put it on hold for the moment. I think you’ll find she’s now most amenable about leaving for Yorkshire tomorrow.’ Dr Addney chuckled. ‘Although she did say she was going to take her laptop with her.’

‘Naturally,’ Gideon exclaimed, and laughed with him.

‘Well, here we are,’ the doctor said, pausing at one of the doors. ‘Let’s go in, shall we?’ A moment later he was ushering Gideon into Evan’s room.

Gideon hurried over to the bed, relieved that Evan looked exactly the same as she had this morning, except that she was somewhat paler than usual. She was sitting up in the bed, surrounded by pillows, quite obviously none the worse for the fall.

‘Gideon!’ she exclaimed the moment she saw him. ‘Don’t look so upset! I’m all right.’ She beamed at him, her smile warm and welcoming, her large expressive grey-blue eyes full of love for him.

‘I’ve been so worried,’ he whispered as he bent over her, put his arms around her, kissed her cheek, then stroked her dark head. ‘Actually, I was quite beside myself. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you and the twins, Evan. I love you all so much.’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to us, Gideon darling. The three of us are perfect. Truly. And I love you, too. So will the boys, once they … pop out.’

Watching them, Charles Addney felt a flush of pleasure. How wonderful it was to see two people as much in love as they were. It did his heart good to know that they had each other, had managed to find each other in this dangerous and uncertain world in which they all lived these days. He closed the door quietly behind him as he slipped out and left them alone with their happiness in each other.

‘How on earth did you manage to fall?’ Gideon asked. He was sitting on the side of the bed, holding Evan’s hand, gazing into that face he had come to know so intimately in the past year and now loved so much.

She shook her head, gave a small laugh. ‘I don’t know, darling. Just clumsy, I suppose.’

‘Clumsy? You? Never. You’re the most graceful person I know, have ever known, actually. Your mother said it was a fluke accident, so come on, tell me what exactly happened.’

Evan pursed her lips together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she wondered how best to explain. She wasn’t quite sure herself how she had managed to fall in the way she had. Clearing her throat, she explained, ‘I was standing in front of my desk, talking to Angharad … Oh, have you met her? She came to the hospital with Mom and Linnet.’ Her dark brows lifted questioningly.

‘Yes, I’ve met her,’ he murmured, staring hard at her. ‘Are you saying she was in the room with you?’

‘Oh yes, she’d come over to the store to see me. It was very unexpected, I didn’t even know she was in England.’

Gideon felt his hackles rising, and he sat up a little straighter on the bed, looking intently at Evan. ‘So, she was in the room. You were talking to her from behind the desk. And then what?’

‘I reached behind me, pulled the chair towards me, the typing chair I use at my desk. I was quite sure it was right behind me, and I sat down. But it had rolled away, off to one side, and naturally I fell on the floor. With a very hard bump, too.’

Gideon nodded but said nothing. He couldn’t help wondering if Angharad had caused the accident. But how could she have? She was at the other side of the desk … Evan had just told him that. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help thinking she was responsible in some way for Evan’s nasty spill.

‘When you fell did she come to help you?’ he wondered out loud.

‘Yes, she came over to me, but she was really terrified, you know, that I might have badly injured myself, and so she just stood there, asking me if I was okay. I’d felt a stab of pain in my stomach and so I’d brought my legs up, as if trying to protect the boys. Then suddenly Ruth appeared with the water I’d asked her to bring me earlier, and Mom and Linnet were with her. Mom ran to me, got down onto the floor next to me, and I told her to call the doctor.’

Evan now lay back against the pillows, her expression one of bafflement as she murmured, ‘I just don’t know how I could have been so careless, falling like that.’

‘You weren’t careless, sweetheart, it’s as you said it was, a freak accident. Thank God you didn’t injure yourself. Now, let’s get you dressed. Dr Addney says I can take you home, but you have to rest all day. And tonight. Tomorrow evening we’re going to Pennistone Royal instead of on Saturday.’

‘But I—’

‘No buts, Evan, and no arguments. That’s it. I’ve made the decision. The doctor told me you should start maternity leave now. So I’m afraid it’s no more Harte’s, not until well after the twins are born.’

‘Oh, don’t say that! I hope there’ll be lots more Hartes. Well, one Harte in particular,’ Evan said, smiling at him.

‘I certainly hope you’re referring to me.’

‘Of course I am, silly. Who else do I love but you?’

Little things kept coming back to her, things she had forgotten long ago. And yet they had been significant when they happened. Pushed resolutely to the back of her mind, they were now coming to the fore, clear and vivid as they took shape once more. And each memory was shaped and defined by one thing … Angharad’s jealousy and envy of her.

Evan lay under the duvet in the bedroom of Gideon’s flat. Their bedroom now, since she had moved in with him months ago. They had wanted to live together once she had become pregnant; this apart, Gideon’s sister Natalie had returned from her sojourn in Sydney, and because it was her flat Evan was occupying, moving out had become mandatory.

‘And why not live with me, your future husband?’ Gideon had asked, adding, ‘Come live with me, and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove.’

‘What lovely words.’

‘Yes. But they’re not mine, Evan. They’re Christopher Marlowe’s. However, they truly do reflect my sentiments entirely.’

And mine as well, she thought now, pulling the duvet up around her shoulders, making herself comfortable. Both Dr Addney and Gideon had impressed upon her that she should rest all day and evening, and she knew they were correct. She was all right, no harm had been done, but she’d had a bit of a shock. Rest was the best medicine, just as they had said to her.

Angharad.

The name hung there, floating in mid-air before her eyes.

Evan had not failed to miss the distaste in Gideon’s voice when he had mentioned her sister earlier. And she completely understood why he had sounded that way. With the innovation of the platinum blonde hair and all that awful red clothing she had looked flashy, and just a little bit cheap. And especially when contrasted with their mother, perfectly groomed and turned out in a mélange of soft beiges, and Linnet in her smart black Chanel suit with its pristine white-satin collar and cuffs.

Evan cringed inside at the memory of all that dreadful red. Pretty though Angharad was, she had never looked worse than she did today. It was the hair as well; it did not suit her, was totally inappropriate. Unexpectedly, a thought struck her. Angharad had looked like Mrs Santa Claus in the red outfit and with her platinum blonde hair. Under other circumstances it might have been amusing and she would have laughed, but not today; her coming to the store dressed like that was embarrassing. And how mean-spirited she had been.

Then it came, a sudden flash of memory – and remembrances of a Christmas long ago. In Connecticut. She had been seven, or thereabouts, and Angharad around three and a half, and very jealous of her, competitive even then … It was the Christmas that Evan’s grandmother had given her a puppy, a beautiful chocolate-brown Lab with unusual green eyes. They had named him Hudson, after the river.

‘Gran, Gran, I can’t find Hudson! He’s disappeared,’ Evan wailed, worry ringing her face as she ran into the big family kitchen where her grandmother stood at the long oak table cooking for the Christmas holidays.

Glynnis was making stuffing for the turkey, giblet gravy, apple sauce and all sorts of other good things to eat.

Glancing over her shoulder at Evan, she said, ‘I saw him trotting after Angharad a few minutes ago. Try the solarium, lovey. Perhaps you’ll find them there, playing with his tennis ball.’

Rushing back out into the front hall, Evan now raced down the corridor in the direction of the solarium. When she came to the door which led into the room she was stunned to see Angharad pushing the puppy outside into the snow and then locking the door.

‘Angharad! What are you doing?’ Evan shrieked in alarm, her shoes clattering against the terracotta flagstones as she flew into the solarium. ‘It’s freezing outside, Hudson will die out there. It’s too cold for a little puppy. He’s only nine weeks old! You’re a bad girl, very bad.’

Evan pulled Angharad away from the door, pushed her out of the way roughly, glaring at her and exclaiming, ‘You’re very bad. Bad.’ Frantically unlocking the door, wrenching it open, she ran outside, glanced around, her eyes seeking the puppy. He was nowhere to be seen and her eyes filled up with tears.

‘Hudson, Hudson, where are you?’ she shouted, her voice quavering. He couldn’t be far away, surely not, she thought desperately.

Angharad had come outside and was standing on the steps of the solarium. ‘I’m not a bad girl,’ she yelled at Evan. ‘I hate that puppy. I hate you. It’s the dog that’s bad. It wee-weed in my room. So there, Miss Big Shot!’ She went back inside, banged the solarium door and locked it.

Evan paid no attention to her. She was far too worried about Hudson, intent on finding her puppy. Then she suddenly spotted the little paw prints in the snow, and began to follow them, pulling her cardigan around her shoulders, shivering in the icy wind, regretting she had not stopped to get her coat.

It didn’t take Evan long to find Hudson. The dog had sunk down into a snowdrift against the terrace wall, and was whimpering.

Bending over the snowdrift she almost fell into it herself as she reached down to retrieve Hudson. He was wet and cold, trembling with fright, and still whimpering as she took hold of him firmly and lifted him out.

‘Little Hudsy, here I am. You’re safe,’ Evan soothed. ‘I’ll soon have you warm,’ she whispered against his wet hair, bundling him inside her cardigan, wrapping it around him, cradling him in her arms. Holding him close to her body for extra warmth, she hurried back to the solarium.

Evan turned the knob only to discover that the door had been locked by Angharad. The child stood on the other side of the French doors, making faces at her; she stuck out her tongue, then laughed.

‘Open this door!’ Evan demanded, banging on one of the glass panes, filled with irritation. It was cold in the garden.

‘No, I won’t.’ Angharad put her tongue out again, swung around and ran away from the French doors.

Racing along the path, Evan went to the back door of the house which led straight into the kitchen. Stumbling inside, she brought a blast of cold air with her, which made Glynnis swing around. She looked startled when she saw Evan.

‘You’re going to catch your death of cold, my girl, going out without a coat in this weather,’ Glynnis chastised, then stopped when she saw that Evan had the puppy dog in her arms. She also noticed that the two of them were shivering.

‘Goodness me, whatever happened to Hudson? He looks very wet,’ Glynnis exclaimed, frowning in concern. ‘Here, give him to me, Evan, I’ll wrap him in this warm kitchen towel. As for you, lovey, take off that damp cardigan at once and stand in front of the fire. You’ll be warm and dry in a jiffy.’

‘Yes, Gran,’ Evan said dutifully, handing over the puppy, then struggling out of her damp cardigan which she then laid on the hearth.

Once the puppy was dry and nestling in a cosy bed of thick towels in his basket, Glynnis said, ‘Do you want to tell me what happened, Evan?’

Evan let out a long sigh. ‘I’m not a snitch.’

‘I know that. But how did the puppy get outside in the first place?’

‘I found him in a snowdrift,’ Evan muttered, avoiding answering the question.

‘Certainly Hudson can’t open doors, so somebody must’ve put him outside, Evan. That’s the obvious answer. Perhaps a little girl called Angharad, eh?’

Evan was silent.

‘It was Angharad,’ Elayne announced clearly, walking into the kitchen. ‘I saw her shoving Hudson out into the snow, Grandma.’ Elayne made a face. ‘She’s always jealous of Evan, and me, too.’

Glynnis nodded. ‘I understand. Well, please go and find her, Elayne, and bring her to me. At once.’

Elayne rushed off.

Glynnis looked pointedly at Evan. ‘I know you never want to confront her, but this time Angharad has gone too far.’

When Evan was silent, Glynnis said, ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Gran.’

Within minutes Elayne came back into the kitchen, pulling Angharad along by the hand. At five she was taller and stronger, and so she was able to control the younger child, who was struggling and looked sullen.

When they came to a stop in front of Glynnis, she said in a quiet voice, ‘Angharad, what you did was a cruel thing, putting that defenceless little puppy out in the freezing cold. Hudson would have soon died in that snowdrift, there’s no doubt about that. You’ve been a wicked girl. I don’t often use such a strong word with you, even though you are frequently extremely naughty. However, this time you deserve it.’ Leaning closer, bending slightly, looking into the child’s face, Glynnis asked, ‘Now, explain why you did such a cruel thing.’

‘The dog wee-weed in my room,’ Angharad mumbled.

‘Oh really. That’s surprising, since you usually keep the door closed. Let’s go upstairs, shall we? All of us.’

Glynnis, her face still grim, shepherded her three granddaughters up the front stairs and into the bedroom shared by Angharad and Elayne.

‘Now, show me where the puppy had an accident,’ she said.

Angharad hung back for a split second, then ran to a small, damp spot visible on the light-coloured carpet. She pointed to it. ‘There! It’s there.’

‘It doesn’t look like urine to me,’ Glynnis muttered, and kneeling down, she sniffed the spot, then looked up at Angharad, her face grim again. She said, ‘This spot doesn’t have a smell at all. I think it’s water.’

‘Yes, it is, Grandma,’ Elayne told her. ‘She spilled it last night.’

‘I thought it was something like that,’ Glynnis replied, getting up from the floor. ‘And now you’ve resorted to fibbing, Angharad. Well there’s only one thing to do with a girl who lies. She’s got to be left alone to think about what telling the truth means, how important it is. Girls who lie are not fit for decent company.’

‘I didn’t lie!’ Angharad cried, glaring at Elayne.

‘I believe you did,’ Glynnis exclaimed. ‘And it’s not the first time. You’re to stay here in your room until your father and mother get back from New York with Grandpa. Then we’ll see what happens.’

She walked across the bedroom floor, beckoning to the other two girls. After ushering them out, Glynnis turned and looked at Angharad. ‘I’m not going to lock this door, but don’t you dare come out.’

Once they were back in the kitchen, Glynnis served Evan and Elayne large bowls of chicken vegetable soup and small chicken sandwiches. They ate their lunch dutifully and in total silence, afraid to speak. And Glynnis didn’t say a word either.

It was much later that afternoon, when she was playing with the puppy at one end of the kitchen, that Evan heard her grandmother talking to her mother. ‘There’s something wicked in her, Marietta,’ Glynnis said at one moment. ‘Angharad tells lies, and she has a cruel streak.’ As Marietta began to protest, Glynnis went on firmly, ‘She was an abandoned child … we know nothing about her genes, now admit that’s true, Marietta.’

‘I’m not denying it,’ Marietta finally answered in a low voice. ‘But she is pretty, and she can be very sweet, you know. Very loving.’

‘Yes, most certainly she can, when you’re giving into her, spoiling her,’ Glynnis pointed out.

Marietta did not answer.

Evan, who had listened to this exchange, kept herself hidden at the back of the kitchen, not wanting the two women to become aware of her presence.

As the memory slowly faded, Evan once again accepted that Angharad had not changed very much. She was just as envious and spiteful as she had always been. It struck Evan that Angharad had come to the store today spoiling for a fight, had wanted to upset her intentionally. And if they hadn’t quarrelled she wouldn’t have fallen, would she?

Evan shivered slightly and huddled deeper into the bedclothes. And then she was filled with relief that she hadn’t mentioned their quarrel to Gideon. She was certain he had already spotted something in Angharad which he didn’t like. His tone of voice had given him away. Angharad would never find favour with him, of that she was aware.

CHAPTER FIVE

It’s exquisite,’ India Standish said, looking at the diamond tiara resting on a square of black velvet laid on the dining room table at Niddersley House. ‘And I would love to wear it on my wedding day …’ Her voice trailed off and there was a moment’s hesitation before she asked, ‘As long as you don’t think it’s too much, Grandma?’

‘Do you mean too grand, India?’ Edwina asked. Edwina, Dowager Countess of Dunvale, gazed across the table at her only granddaughter and favourite grandchild.

‘Well, yes, sort of,’ India admitted. ‘Is it a bit over the top?’ She raised a blonde brow questioningly, her eyes focused on her grandmother. ‘I mean, for these days?’

Edwina did not answer for a moment. Instead she stared at the tiara, her head on one side, her eyes thoughtful. After a moment she murmured, ‘No, it’s not too grand for today, nor was it ever, for any day, my dear, and it’s certainly not very elaborate … just two bands of diamonds linked by interlocking circles of diamonds, with the large circle at the front holding a diamond star in a smaller circle.’

Nodding to herself, Edwina informed India, ‘It’s Victorian, you know. It belonged to Adele Fairley, my grandmother and your great-great-grandmother. That’s why it occurred to me you might like to wear it on such an important day in your life. It’s part of your family history.’

India responded, ‘Yes, I understand, and it is beautiful, Gran. Perhaps I should try it on to see how it looks.’

‘Yes, why don’t you do that.’ Edwina motioned to the end wall. ‘There’s a looking glass over there, and plenty of light from the windows on either side.’

India rose, leaned over the table, and lifted the tiara with both hands. Moving across to the mirror, she placed the diamond circle on her head and stared at herself. She saw at once that Edwina was correct. Once the tiara was on her head, it didn’t look quite so grand after all, perhaps because of the cloud of hair around her face and the simple design. And it did suit her, no two ways about that; much to her surprise, it was also comfortable to wear. For a moment India attempted to visualize herself in her wedding veil and the tiara, and unexpectedly she liked the image floating in her head. She turned around and exclaimed, ‘What do you think, Gran?’

Edwina’s answer was to beam at her. ‘It suits you, India, and it doesn’t look … over the top, as you call it. Your veil will be held in place perfectly. Now, tell me, what is your wedding gown going to be like? You told me Evan was designing it.’

‘Yes, she is, and I’ve only seen the first sketches of it, but I love her design. We’ve chosen the fabric already, a pale-ivory taffeta, light in weight, because when the dress is finished it’s going to be worn over an underskirt of layered net, for a very bouffant effect like an old-fashioned ballgown. The bodice is tightly fitted and there are big, puffy sleeves, slightly off the shoulder. Actually, it’s Victorian in style, Gran, now that I think about it. I’ve asked Evan to keep it plain and understated, no embroidery on it.’

‘It sounds as if it will be lovely, my dear, and I feel sure the tiara will be the perfect adornment since it is Victorian like the gown. So, are you going to wear it on your wedding day to please an old lady?’

India smiled at her grandmother, then turned again to the mirror, gazing at herself for a split second. As she swung around to face Edwina, she exclaimed, ‘Yes, Grandma, I’d love to wear your tiara and thank you for thinking of it.’

Edwina returned India’s smile with one equally as loving. ‘Adele’s tiara, that’s how I regard it. Would you like to take it with you today? Or do you prefer to leave it here for safe-keeping?’

‘I think I’d better do that, actually. You have that enormous safe and I don’t even have a small one in my flat. Besides, it’s only January, Gran, I’m not getting married until June. So yes, it would be much safer here for the next six months, I think.’

‘I understand …’ Edwina sat back in the chair and watched India as she walked over to the dining table, took off the tiara and placed it on the black velvet, thinking what a lovely young woman she had become. She had the finely-drawn aristocratic looks and pale-blonde colouring of Adele Fairley, as did her cousin Tessa Fairley; in fact, the two could easily be mistaken for sisters, and often were by strangers.

‘Shall I put the tiara in its box, Grandma? Or do you want Frome to do it?’

Edwina laughed. ‘You’d better do it, he’s far too slow these days. It’ll take him half an hour to get the tiara in its box, never mind into the safe. Old age creeping up, I’m afraid.’

India’s mouth twitched with laughter. ‘You are funny, Gran, the way you go on about Frome getting old. He can’t be more than fifty if he’s a day.’

‘Fifty’s about right,’ Edwina confirmed, still chuckling to herself. ‘But he’s dreadfully slow lately. You know very well I’m much faster at everything, even though I am ninety-five.’

‘And quite remarkable!’ India exclaimed.

‘Imagine, Emma was only sixteen when I was born. She took me off to her cousin Freda’s in Ripon to be brought up, at least when I was a baby …’ Edwina stopped somewhat abruptly and sat there staring out of the window, as if remembering something from long, long ago, her eyes full of a curious yearning.

After a moment of watching her, India asked softly, ‘Are you all right, Grandmother?’

‘Oh, yes, I am, India, I am. And I hope I remain so. At least until I see you well and truly married to Dusty.’ Pushing herself to her feet, she continued, ‘And shouldn’t we be on our way to have lunch with him at Willows Hall?’

‘Yes, we had better go,’ India agreed, and put the tiara back in the worn, black-leather box where it belonged, then laid the black velvet cover over it. Closing the lid and fastening the small catch, India looked across at her grandmother and said, ‘Shall I put it in the safe?’

‘Absolutely. It’ll be quicker, as I just said, if you do it. Come along, my dear, I’ll take you to the safe. And then we’ll be off. It was nice of you to come and fetch me, India. I could’ve been driven over to Dusty’s by Rupert, you know. He doesn’t have much driving to do, as it is.’

‘Oh that’s all right, Grandma. I wanted to come. To see you and to spend a little extra time with you.’

They crossed the hall together and went down a corridor towards the room where an enormous safe was housed. As she followed Edwina, India went on, ‘I think you’d better wear a warm coat, Grandma, it’s bitterly cold today, and it could snow again.’

‘I will, my dear. I have a lovely quilted coat Paula got for me. From Harte’s, of course.’

‘Mr Rhodes, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s a Mrs Roebotham here. With Atlanta,’ Paddy Whitaker said from the doorway of the studio.

Dusty’s head came up with a jerk, surprise flickering in his eyes. ‘Atlanta?’

‘Yes, Mr Rhodes,’ the house manager confirmed. ‘They’re in the kitchen at the moment. Atlanta likes Angelina, as you well know.’

Alarmed though he was by this altogether unexpected news, Russell Rhodes, one of the world’s greatest artists, managed to keep his face neutral. Dusty, as he was commonly known, put the paintbrush down carefully, even though his stomach was churning all of a sudden; he managed somehow to keep his movements deliberate and totally controlled. His mind was racing, trying to fathom what had happened to the child’s grandmother. Obviously something had. That was why Atlanta was here.

Turning away from the easel, Dusty asked, ‘What’s the problem? Did this Mrs Roebotham say?’

‘No, but she has a suitcase. It’s Atlanta’s. And the woman appears to be nervous and obviously quite worried. However, she wouldn’t say a word to me, Mr Rhodes. She just repeated several times that she had to speak to you and only you.’

‘I understand. I’ll come up to the house with you right away, Paddy.’ Moving across the floor of the studio swiftly, Dusty glanced at his watch and asked, ‘Is everything under control for lunch?’

Paddy, still framed in the doorway of the studio, nodded his head. ‘Angelina has finished setting the table in the dining room, and Valetta’s in the middle of cooking lunch. Everything smells delicious, as usual. I have the white wine cooling. Pouilly Fumé. No problems, at least not with lunch, sir.’

‘I’m sure not. Thanks, Paddy. By the way, you’d better make sure the dining room is warm. The countess feels the cold these days, so Lady India tells me.’

‘The fire’s blazing and I turned the central heating on a while ago. Kept it low, though.’

‘That’s fine.’ Dusty paused at the door and, doubting that he would be returning to his studio today, he switched off all the lights. After grabbing his sheepskin coat from the wall peg, he locked the door and walked with Paddy to the beautiful Palladian house set at the top of the hill just a few yards away.

Once inside the house, Dusty murmured, ‘I’d better see Mrs Roebotham first before I greet Atlanta, find out what this is all about. Give me a couple of minutes to freshen up, then bring her to the library.’

‘I’ll do that, sir. And in the meantime, I’ll try to get her to have a cup of tea. She wouldn’t have anything before. But perhaps she will now that she knows you’ll be talking to her in a short while.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Dusty answered, and then he hurried across the marble entrance hall and into the spacious library. The first thing he did was go into the adjoining bathroom where he washed the paint off his hands, splashed cold water on his face, and then ran a comb through his thick black hair.

He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that he looked tired, drained. And also worried. Taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself and stay calm, he returned to the library, straightening his sweater as he went to his desk. Lifting the tweed jacket from the back of the desk chair he slipped it on, then sat down at the desk, his mind in a turmoil.

Something must have happened to Molly Caldwell, Melinda’s mother, he decided, or why would a stranger be here with his child? Unless it was Melinda who was in trouble, and her mother had gone to the clinic to see her. But if that were the case why hadn’t Mrs Caldwell phoned him? She usually did, wanting always to keep him informed of everything that affected his child. She was a good woman.

Propping his elbows on the desk, Dusty dropped his head into his hands. Why today? he muttered under his breath. Why did it have to be today of all days? India was on her way to have lunch, bringing her grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Dunvale, and he wanted everything to go right.

Trouble he didn’t want or need.

But there was no doubt in his mind that trouble was about to come and hit him smack in the face.

He braced himself. Everything was about to go wrong; his gut instinct told him that, and he trusted his instinct. Always had.

‘Tell me about Emma, tell me about Grandy,’ India said as she drove down the driveway of Niddersley House and turned left onto the Knaresborough Road. ‘You promised you would ages ago and you never have.’

‘There’s so much to tell, I wouldn’t know where to begin,’ Edwina murmured, settling herself in the car seat. ‘Do you like this car, India?’ she then asked, changing the subject. ‘I gave it to your father, you know.’

‘Yes, he told me. And I love my Aston Martin.’ Giving her a quick look through the corner of her eye, she then asked, ‘Are you comfortable, Gran?’

‘Very. Thank you for asking,’ Edwina answered, glancing out of the window.

‘So, getting back to Emma Harte. Here’s an idea, why don’t I just ask you questions?’

‘That’s a very good idea, India. But surely you know a lot from your father. He was devoted to her.’

‘Oh yes, I do, and from Mummy as well. Daddy always says he was one of the Praetorian Guards.’

Edwina burst out laughing, and chuckled for a second or two. ‘He spoke the truth. He and Paula, Emily and her late brother Sandy, and Winston felt it was their duty to surround and protect her in every way. I must admit, I did sometimes tease your father, asking him if he and the others were ever tempted to do away with her, as the original Roman Praetorian Guards had often had an urge to slay their leader.’ Edwina chuckled again.

India laughed with her grandmother, and asked, ‘And what did my father say?’

‘He was horrified that I could even countenance such an idea. I’m afraid that my teasing fell flat. He and his cousins were utterly devoted to her.’

‘And you weren’t, were you, Gran?’ When Edwina did not answer, India pressed, ‘You were estranged from her for quite some time. I know that because Daddy told me.’

A low sigh escaped Edwina, and she remained silent for a moment longer before finally saying, ‘Yes, it’s true, I was. I became estranged from her just before I went off to finishing school in Switzerland, and we weren’t very close for a number of years after that.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘It’s such a long story, India dear, and I always get upset when I discuss it these days. I will tell you the details some other time, I promise. Let’s just say, for now, that I was totally wrong. I was the one at fault, not my mother, and when I finally realized that I tried to make amends. And we became devoted to each other at long last.’

‘You sound very regretful, Grandma,’ India said softly, sympathy echoing in her voice.

‘I am, even to this day. I think what I regret most are the years I missed knowing her, being with her, when I was a young woman. I was married to your grandfather, Jeremy, and living with him at Clonloughlin. I was so happy with him and we were devoted to your father, our only child, and I didn’t give a thought to my mother. Not for a very long time.’

‘My father told me he went and sought her out, that he didn’t even tell you.’

‘That’s correct. And it was my uncle, Emma’s brother Winston Harte, who told me that the moment they met was memorable. He said it was instantaneous and absolute infatuation between Emma and Anthony. And they always remained devoted to each other.’ Turning to India, Edwina finished in a low voice, ‘I’m glad your father had the guts to defy me and went to meet his grandmother on his own. They became close and remained close for the rest of her life, and they both benefited from the relationship.’

‘You said earlier that Emma sent you off to live in Ripon with her cousin, Freda. Was that one of the things that upset you?’

Again Edwina was silent as if mulling over her answer, and when at last she spoke she found herself telling the truth. ‘No, not really. I was a baby and I was given a lot of love, care and attention, and it was a pretty, pastoral place to live. Freda was a loving young woman. I knew deep down, when I was older, that Emma had done the best thing for me. We were poor and she had to work hard to support us, and she just couldn’t look after me. Nor was there anyone in Armley who could. Yes, it was the right decision, even though later there were moments when I resented her for doing it. But I was far too young to understand all the ramifications. Later, I did.’

‘You know, Grandma, I really admire you. The way you admit your mistakes, take responsibility for things you did which you now regret. Most people can’t do that … admit they’ve been wrong.’

‘Only too true, India,’ Edwina murmured, ‘and for you to understand that now, at your age, makes you a very smart young woman indeed. I’m proud of you, my dear. Now, enough of the past and Emma. Tell me about your plans.’

‘Just one more question, Gran, and then I’ll stop,’ India pleaded. ‘I’ll talk about my plans, and anything else you want to talk about.’

‘All right. One more question then. What is it?’

‘Everyone says Linnet is Emma’s clone? Is that true? You’d know better than any other member of the family.’

‘Oh yes, she’s the spitting image of her, as Emma looked at that age when I was growing up and living with her. But it’s not only the looks, you know. Linnet is like her in other ways. It’s in the genes, I suppose. She has inherited many of my mother’s mannerisms, and she even sounds like her at times. And quite aside from those things, her personality is similar to Emma’s. Linnet can be brusque and blunt, just as my mother was, and she speaks her mind. Very plainly. I’ve always said to Paula that with Linnet what you see is what you get, and Emma Harte was exactly the same way.’

Edwina sat up straighter in the car seat, and looked at her granddaughter. ‘You might find this hard to believe, but do you know, India, sometimes when I’m with Linnet I feel as if I’m a little girl again and actually with my mother. I fall back into my memories, and I’m transported back in time. It’s rather strange, I must admit.’

‘I suppose it is, but every time I pass that portrait of Emma in the store, I think I’m looking at Linnet – well, the woman Linnet will be when she’s much older.’

A fleeting smile touched Edwina’s face, and after a moment she said, ‘Now come along, you promised to tell me your plans, yours and Dusty’s. And what about his little girl? Will she come and live with you when you’re married?’

‘I don’t think so, Grandma … Dusty feels she should remain with Mrs Caldwell, that’s the child’s grandmother. He doesn’t want to uproot her, bring her to live at Willows Hall with us. Anyway, he always promised Melinda, that’s the little girl’s mother, that he wouldn’t take Atlanta away from her.’

‘I understand his reasoning. And that’s just as well, wouldn’t you say? Surely she’s better with her mother?’

As Edwina said this, she felt a sudden surge of apprehension. She saw trouble on the horizon.

PART TWO
Trio

‘The three clans stand together as one family. Harte, O’Neill and Kallinski against all foes.’

Emma Harte, A Woman of Substance

CHAPTER SIX

Linnet wished she could go up to the moors, but she knew that it was impossible this morning. Snow had fallen during the night and the hills soaring above her along the rim of the horizon were topped with glistening white.

She had to admit that it would be unbearably cold on the ‘tops’, as the locals called the highest parts of the moorland and the high fells that dropped down into the Dales. The snow would make them impossible to traverse, and then there was the wind. It was always blowing up there, even in the best of weather, and today it was bound to be a bitterly cold wind.

For as long as she could remember Linnet had loved the moors above Pennistone Royal, the lovely, ancient house in Yorkshire where she had been born, and which had belonged to her great-grandmother, Emma Harte.

One day it would be hers. Her mother had told her that in great confidence. It was a big secret; no one else could know.

When she was still only a toddler, her mother had taken her up there to play amongst the heather and bracken, under a perfect sky as blue as the tiny speedwells growing in the lower fields below in the warm weather.

The moors were Linnet’s special place, her haven whenever something ailed her. Her mother had told her a long time ago that she had inherited Emma’s love of them.

‘You’re just like Grandy,’ Paula would often tell her, smiling indulgently. ‘Whenever you get a chance, you go rushing up there, especially when you’re troubled or worried about something. That’s exactly what your great-grandmother did for her entire life.’

Linnet was beset by problems on this chilly Saturday morning, all manner of troubling thoughts jostling around in her head. Sighing, she walked down the gravel path towards the Rhododendron Walk, and tried to sort out her worries in the order of their importance.

Uppermost in her mind at this moment was Jonathan Ainsley. A short while ago, Jack Figg had phoned to tell her that Ainsley was no longer in London but now staying at his house in Thirsk, and his very presence in the vicinity made her feel uneasy. Jack always called him a loose cannon and the idea that he might well be just that frightened her. It put her on her guard.

Then there was the situation with Evan’s family. Uncle Robin had invited them all to stay with him for the wedding, and this was now suddenly alarming Jack, alerting him to trouble. He had voiced the thought that each and every one of them would be ‘sitting ducks’, should Jonathan Ainsley decide to pay an unexpected visit to his father at Lackland Priory.

‘But he can’t shoot them dead,’ she had countered, ‘all he can do actually, Jack, is to be very rude to them, and nasty to his father. Uncle Robin’s used to that by now, I should think.’

‘Couldn’t they be accommodated elsewhere for the duration of the wedding festivities?’ Jack had asked, and she had then suggested he speak to her mother about this. ‘I suppose they could stay with us at Pennistone Royal,’ she had gone on swiftly, ‘or with Aunt Emily and Uncle Winston in Middleham. Allington Hall is big enough. But Mummy’ll know best. Mind you, Uncle Robin won’t like it if she interferes with his plans, that I can tell you.’

Jack had answered that Paula was head of the family and he was going to call her the moment he rang off. And then he did just that, muttering, ‘And what she says goes.’

Linnet had nodded to herself as she had replaced the receiver, thinking Jack was right.

Apart from Jonathan Ainsley, Paula’s cousin and the family’s bitterest enemy, Linnet was somewhat concerned about Evan. Thankfully she was all right, and there were no problems with the babies, but that curious fall still puzzled her.

Evan was the most nimble person she knew, and moved around with a unique kind of elegance and grace, and Linnet couldn’t for the life of her understand how Evan had missed the seat of the chair, hit the floor the way she had. It both baffled and bothered her.

Evan and Gideon had arrived at Pennistone Royal on Thursday, earlier than originally planned, and last night she had spoken to Evan about her fall when she and Julian had arrived and had supper with them.

Evan had laughed it off when Linnet had started to gently probe, and so she had let the subject slide away without making any further comment. What truly disturbed Linnet was the remembrance, so clearly etched in her mind, of Angharad standing over Evan in her office, looking down at her, doing nothing to help.

There had been such an odd expression in Angharad’s eyes Linnet had done a double-take, had given her a longer, harder stare, and had been discomfited when she recognized that Evan’s adopted sister was actually looking gleeful. Linnet had not failed to miss the inherent spite in her at that moment, and was enormously troubled by the strangeness of this young woman and her sudden appearance on the scene.

Angharad Hughes had not been due to come to London until next week. She bears watching, Linnet now decided, shrugging further into her cape, increasing her pace down the hill. I wouldn’t put anything past her … she spells trouble.

When Linnet had arrived at Pennistone Royal last night her mother had asked her to stay for the whole of the coming week, so that she could help with Evan’s wedding. ‘Evan can’t possibly do much, darling,’ Paula had pointed out. ‘She’s so very pregnant, and after that awful fall in her office, Emily and I don’t think she should be exerting herself, or doing anything physically stressful.’

Immediately, Linnet had agreed to stay on at Pennistone Royal to help her mother. They were close and always had been, and whenever she could ease Paula’s burdens Linnet tried to do so.

Earlier in the week, Linnet had considered talking to her mother about making certain changes at the store in Knightsbridge, but now she realized this was hardly the right time for such an important and delicate discussion. That must wait until after Evan’s marriage to Gideon next Saturday, only a week away.

The wedding was distracting her mother as much as it was Aunt Emily, mother of the groom. So how could she start bringing up old-fashioned windows that needed a fresh approach to suit the changing times? Or explain the importance of having a spa or suggest the innovative idea of devoting an entire floor to brides and weddings?

Surely her words would fall on deaf ears? Or if they didn’t, they would certainly irritate her mother no end. Paula seemed set in her ways these days, much to Linnet’s chagrin, and change appalled her.

Put it on hold, she muttered to herself, and continued on her way, heading closer to the walk. This had been created by her mother over thirty-five years ago or more, and she had designed it for Emma Harte. The Rhododendron Walk at Temple Newsam, a stately home near Leeds, had been the inspiration, and Paula had copied it down to the last detail, inveterate gardener that she was.

In the summer months it was quite extraordinary to behold, the glossy leaves of the rhododendron bushes alive with colour from the giant flowers … white, lilac and pale pink giving way to tints of dark-rose and purple. The flowery bower was breathtaking at that particular time of the year; now, in winter, the glossy green leaves were speckled with frozen snowflakes and tiny icicles.

At one moment, Linnet stopped and glanced up at the sky. It was forbidding, curdled and cold. The wind was beginning to blow the steel-grey clouds away and quite suddenly a pale sun was visible, a pale-silver orb against the expanse of blue floating above. She was used to the sudden changes in the weather in Yorkshire, especially in the Dales where she had grown up. Rain was prevalent throughout the year; but apparently, it wasn’t going to be a wet gloomy day after all, and this pleased Linnet.

Striding out, humming to herself, she began to enjoy her walk. But at the same time her busy mind was focusing once again on the Hughes family.

She was well aware that Uncle Robin would be upset and disappointed if Owen and his family didn’t stay with him. Robin Ainsley had discovered a new lease on life through the advent of Evan Hughes and her father Owen, his long lost son by Glynnis Hughes. Certainly he looked better than he had for several years.

On the other hand, the Hughes family presented problems all of a sudden, primarily because Jonathan Ainsley was in Yorkshire. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he resented the very idea of a half-brother in the shape of Owen Hughes. As Jack Figg had said, there was no telling what a loose cannon might do.

Jack Figg believed that Ainsley was dangerous, and she had to believe Jack, pay attention to him because he had rarely if ever been wrong, especially when it came to their security, the security of their homes and the stores.

Perhaps her mother would talk to Uncle Robin, instil some sense into him, make him understand his new-found family might possibly be at risk with Jonathan floating around. Yet Robin Ainsley was a stubborn man, and full of confidence about his own judgement. He had been a Member of Parliament for years, and he was a lawyer as well, although never practising. Still, he was an intelligent man, in fact a brilliant man, as his career in government attested. Would he listen to his great-niece, daughter of his half-sister Daisy, to whom he was close these days?

No, wait a minute, Linnet instructed herself. Unexpectedly, it had just struck her that the best person to tackle Robin was his other half-sister, Edwina. They had been especially close throughout their long lives, shared many secrets and problems. ‘Hand in glove,’ was the way her mother had described them recently, pointing out to Linnet that it was obviously Edwina who had helped to facilitate Robin’s long, ongoing affair with Glynnis.

That’s it, Linnet told herself, and immediately came to a snap decision. She would telephone Great-Aunt Edwina the minute she got home, and explain the situation in detail. Paula might be head of the family, but Edwina was the eldest of them all at ninety-five. Furthermore, she still had all her marbles, as Linnet was well aware. Even more importantly, she had immense clout with Robin. To her he would listen, and he would accept her advice, Linnet was convinced.

Glancing at her watch, she realized that Great-Aunt Edwina wouldn’t be at Niddersley House now. When she had spoken to India at the Leeds store yesterday, her cousin had told her she was taking Edwina for lunch at Dusty’s house.

At this moment, India would be driving her grandmother to Willows Hall near Harrogate.

Drat, Linnet muttered to herself, and pressed on along the Rhododendron Walk, formulating a plan as she strode out. She would phone Willows Hall after lunch and talk to Edwina then. And she had no doubt that Great-Aunt Edwina would be delighted to jump into the fray. She had always had the demeanour of a British general commanding his troops, and loved to boss everyone around, especially her siblings.

Julian Kallinski stood at the window of the bedroom at Pennistone Royal which he shared with Linnet, looking out across the lawns.

They were covered in hoar frost on this icy Saturday, and the dark, skeletal branches of the trees were dripping long icicles which looked like miniature stalactites. The whole scene resembled a painting in grisaille, the black and white tints strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of the pale sky.

In the distance he could see Linnet coming down the Rhododendron Walk, returning home, bundled up in her favourite cape. It was bright red and she was hard to miss even from this distance.

A smile struck his mouth and his eyes brightened at the sight of his wife. Wife, he thought, she’s my wife.

He suddenly wondered what he would have done if Linnet hadn’t come to her senses, if she hadn’t ended their silly estrangement.

No, not their estrangement. Hers, actually, from him.

He had never felt estranged from her, only puzzled by her strange behaviour, and achingly vulnerable to her.

After several months of their being apart he had forced the issue, forced her to see him by taking charge of the situation, and not taking no for an answer.

Fortunately, he had chosen the right moment, and she had come back to him willingly, lovingly. And during her emotional and physical capitulation to him, in the searing heat of their mutual passion, she had told him she loved him and only him, and she had finally agreed to become his wife at last.

But what if he hadn’t become assertive because of his frustration, annoyance and anger? None of that might have happened. What if none of those words had ever been said? By him and by her. What would he have done ultimately? How could he have continued his life without her by his side?

It would have been difficult, most certainly, even trying, because their families were so intertwined. He and she might break up, but they would be constantly thrown together.

The three clans of Hartes, O’Neills and Kallinskis had been part of each other’s daily lives for well over a century, since the day Emma Harte, Blackie O’Neill and David Kallinski had met and become best friends in the early years of the twentieth century in Leeds. And they had remained friends until their deaths.

Exile, Julian thought. I would have had to exile myself. I would have had to leave England, go to New York, and run the American end of Kallinski Industries. That would have been the only solution. It would have been dreadful, heartbreaking, a miserable existence. And my life would have been empty and banal without her, without my lovely, red-haired Linnet by my side.

But he wasn’t without her. They were married now, and had been for over five weeks … Married just as they had planned to be married since their childhood … Their dream of marital bliss together had come true in the end.

Smiling to himself, filled with happiness, Julian turned away from the window and went over to the desk in the corner. As he passed the old Queen Anne chest he caught sight of their main wedding picture in its silver frame.

He paused, staring at it for a moment. It was the big family portrait with himself and Linnet in the centre, and surrounding them were the rest of the family. His parents, her parents, her grandmother, Daisy and Great-Aunt Edwina, and the two grandfathers, O’Neill and Kallinski, respectively. And there were their siblings and cousins and the aunts and uncles. The three clans in full force.

Julian focused his attention on his grandfather, Sir Ronald Kallinski, who had managed to stave off death in order to attend their marriage. But sadly he had died in his sleep three days after their wedding, just when he and Linnet had arrived in Barbados for their honeymoon.

His father and her parents, and Grandfather O’Neill in particular, had insisted they did not come back to England for the funeral.

‘He wouldn’t have wanted that, Jules,’ his father had said to him, speaking in his firmest voice. ‘He was thrilled to see you and Linnet married, overjoyed to know the three clans were united in marriage. “All mixed into a lovely stew,” he said to me at the reception. And he was finally able to let go. He died peacefully in his sleep, and he was a happy man. We’ll bury him quietly, and I’ll start planning his memorial service. You’ll both be here for that.’

Julian had told his father he wanted to help with the plans for the memorial, and Michael Kallinski had agreed that they would do it together. ‘Remember, he was in his nineties.’ His father had then added, ‘And he had a great life, a big life. He was ready to go, he was ill. And tired, really. But as I said, a happy man because of you two. So, enjoy your honeymoon, and goodbye.’ His father had then hung up, and Julian knew that all his father had said was correct. To go back would be silly, under the circumstances.

Linnet had been loving and consoling, full of sympathy, proffering wise words, and she had helped him to get through a few truly sorrowful days. And finally, after much discussion, they had wisely taken the advice of their families and remained in Barbados.

Moving away from the chest, sitting down at the desk, Julian thought of the coming week. He was going to be at the Leeds office of Kallinski Industries, and he would greatly miss his grandfather’s presence there. For the past six months or so, Sir Ronnie, as he was called by everyone, had made the Leeds offices his headquarters, no longer fit enough to travel to London.

Naturally his considerable influence was everywhere, from the wonderful Post-Impressionist art and the Barbara Hepworth sculptures in the lobby to the coolness of the upper floors. Sir Ronnie had always insisted that the air-conditioning was turned on, no matter the time of year. He liked his working environment to be cool, which was why many of the women employees tended to refer to Kallinski House as ‘the frozen North’, and ‘Iceland’.

Julian looked across at the door as it suddenly flew open, and his reflective expression was obscured by the bright smile which readily settled on his face.

There she was, his beautiful Linnet.

She hurried forward, smiling back at him, and wrapped her arms around him, held him close.

‘Are you all right? You looked so sad when I came in,’ she whispered against his cheek.

‘I’m fine, really. I was just remembering Grandfather.’

‘I know.’ Linnet drew away and stared up into his dark blue eyes, almost violet in colour like her mother’s. ‘Don’t forget what the Hartes have always said about a loved one who has died … in my heart forever.’

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘I remember that.’

‘And it’s true, you know.’

‘Yes, Linnet, I think it is. I feel that Grandfather is in my heart forever … that motto of your family is absolutely correct.’

She smiled at him, touched his face with a fingertip. ‘You know something strange, even though I never knew Emma, I feel her in my heart. Sometimes I think she’s all around me, loving me, guiding me, watching over me.’ She put her head on one side. ‘Do you think that’s silly? Rather fanciful of me, Jules?’

‘Of course not. And I certainly wouldn’t be so arrogant as to dismiss such feelings. There’s so much we don’t know about this world, or the other … and I’m happy that you feel she’s watching over you.’

Linnet stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips, then asked, ‘Have you seen Gideon and Evan yet this morning?’

‘Yes,’ Julian answered and led her over to the sofa near the window. ‘Let’s sit for a minute. I’ve several things to tell you. First, Emily came over and Gideon and I had coffee with her, then she took your mother off to Beck House in West Tanfield. Gideon is driving over there later with Evan, and he asked us to go to tea at the house, and have a look around. How do you feel about that?’

‘It’s great! I’d love to see how far they’ve come in the decoration of it. So, does that mean we can have lunch alone? Just the two of us?’

‘Not exactly,’ he answered, his eyes suddenly mischievous.

‘Oh, who’s here that I don’t know about?’

‘Your beloved brother, Lorne.’

‘Oh goody! That’s wonderful. Oh, sorry, Jules, about our tête-à-tête. You don’t mind do you?’

‘Not at all, darling, I’ve always had a soft spot for Lorne. But, actually, that’s not all of it. He’s here with his twin and her French friend.’

‘Tessa and Jean-Claude are here?’ Linnet sounded surprised.

‘That’s right, and Tessa says she’s going to cook dinner for everyone, so we’re in for a treat.’ He grinned at Linnet. ‘She’s making her speciality.’

‘Oh God, not coq au vin.’

‘Oh no, she doesn’t make that anymore, at least so she told me. We’re going to have lamb stew.’

Linnet began to chuckle. ‘Come on, let’s go down to the kitchen and see what’s going on. In the meantime, let me tell you about the call I had from Jack Figg just as I was leaving for my walk.’

‘Something important?’

‘Just that the dreaded Jonathan Ainsley is staying at his house in Thirsk. Jack’s a bit worried about that.’

‘I don’t blame him,’ Julian muttered, following Linnet out of their bedroom. ‘That man’s a menace.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dusty jumped up from the desk where he was sitting and went to stand in front of the blazing fire. His face was taut as he stuck his hands in his pockets and warmed his back against the flames.

His mind had been racing ever since Paddy had announced the arrival of his little daughter with Mrs Roebotham. The fact that the woman had brought along a suitcase belonging to Atlanta meant only one thing: the child was coming to stay with him. Which, in turn, meant that it was Molly Caldwell who was out of action, not Melinda who was in some kind of trouble. If that had been the case, Mrs Caldwell would have phoned him to explain.

‘This is Mrs Roebotham,’ Paddy said, now hurrying through the doorway, ushering the woman across the library floor at last.

Immediately, Dusty moved forward exclaiming, ‘Hello, Mrs Roebotham. Hello!’ He stretched out his hand and smiled, added, ‘I’m Russell Rhodes.’

She took his hand and shook it, rather timidly he thought, and murmured in a subdued voice, ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Rhodes.’

Paddy excused himself and disappeared, while Dusty led the woman towards the fireplace. He knew everything about her the instant she entered the room, although he had never met her before. She looked about forty, was scrubbed to shining cleanliness, not a vestige of make-up on her face, neat and tidy in her appearance, her dark clothes plain, simple, but not cheap-looking in any way at all. Her luxuriant auburn hair was brushed back and formed into a sleek twist at the back of her head to reveal a slender, high-cheekboned face that was rather attractive, and she had light eyes, greyish blue, he thought. She was slim and wiry, and of medium height, and there was something about her that was arresting, a determination in her, perhaps, an honesty and straightforwardness. He knew immediately that she was a decent woman.

Leeds, he thought. Working-class Leeds. Same background as mine. No doubt growing up in a Victorian terrace house, just as I did. They had a lot in common, although he was quite sure she was not aware of that.

‘Let’s sit here, shall we, Mrs Roebotham,’ he said briskly.

‘It’s Gladys, everybody calls me Gladys, Mr Rhodes,’ she said in her quiet voice, sitting down where he had indicated, crossing her ankles, placing her hands in her lap on top of her bag.

‘Very well, it’s Gladys then. Now, would you like some refreshments? Tea? Coffee? Or something else? Something to eat, perhaps?’

‘Nothing, but thanks ever so much. Cook made me a cup of tea when I got here, Mr Rhodes.’

He nodded his understanding, and repressed the urge to tell her to call him Dusty. He knew she wouldn’t, and that the mere suggestion would only embarrass her. She was probably overly impressed by this house, undoubtedly intimidated by his fame … the poor Leeds lad who’d made it big. The Yorkshire newspapers were his greatest boosters, always full of his fame, calling him a genius, giving him lavish accolades for his paintings.

As he took the seat opposite her, he asked, ‘What’s happened to Molly Caldwell?’

‘She’s had a heart attack,’ Gladys answered calmly, but her hands were twisting together in her lap, and betrayed her continuing nervousness.

Dismay clutched at him. ‘How bad is she?’ he asked urgently, leaning forward, pinning his eyes on hers.

‘It’s serious, but her doctor is very hopeful,’ she murmured and tried to give him a reassuring smile without much success.

‘When did it happen? This morning?’

‘No. Yesterday afternoon. It was lucky I was there. I go three times a week to help her, and I was in the kitchen doing the ironing when she collapsed. I called Dr Bloom immediately. It was him that sent the ambulance. She’s in Leeds Infirmary, that’s where they took her.’

‘And before that, before she went to the hospital, she told you to bring Atlanta to me?’ Dusty said.

‘Oh, no, she was … well, she was sort of out of it,’ Gladys explained. ‘I knew what I had to do, mind you, Mr Rhodes … bring Atlanta to you. Molly had drilled that into me. She said if ever she got sick or anything I had to bring the little girl to you. Nobody else. Only to you. She kept an envelope in the kitchen drawer with your address and money for taxis in it.’

‘I’m glad she’d told you what to do in case of an emergency, Gladys. Very glad. And you did well. Thank you.’

‘I would have brought Atlanta to you last night. But it had turned seven by the time they took Molly to the hospital. Way past Atlanta’s bed time. I thought it best to stay the night at Molly’s house, I didn’t want to alarm the child. And so I brought her here today. I spoke to the Infirmary, this morning before coming here, and Molly’s doing well.’

Dusty nodded. ‘What’s the prognosis? Do you know? What did the doctor tell you?’

‘That her heart attack was serious. But not life-threatening. Dr Bloom seems to think she’ll be able to come home in about a week.’

‘That’s certainly good news, good to know,’ Dusty exclaimed, smiling at her, filling with sudden relief.

‘By the way, she’s in the I.C.U., Mr Rhodes. I shall go and visit her on my way back home, even if I can only wave to her,’ Gladys announced.

‘That’s very kind of you, and I’ll go myself later this week. By the way, this Dr Bloom, is he in Meanwood?’

‘Oh yes, he’s our local doctor. He’s been there years. And he’s only three streets away from Molly, and not too far from me either. I’ve written his number down for you, Mr Rhodes. I thought you might want to be in touch with him.’ As she spoke she fumbled in her bag and finally brought out a piece of paper, handed it to him.

‘Thanks, Gladys, thanks again for bringing Atlanta to me. Incidentally, how did you explain her grandmother’s absence to her?’ he asked, staring at the piece of paper, then putting it in his pocket.

‘It was Atlanta who came to me in the kitchen. She said her grandmother had fallen down, had hurt her leg because she wasn’t getting up. So when the ambulance arrived, I said they were taking Grandma to get her leg made better. She accepted that, and then when I told her I was bringing her to you today she was so excited that was all she could think about,’ Gladys informed him, then sat back in the chair.

Dusty stood up. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done. I’d better go and see Atlanta without any further delay. I thought it better to get the whole story from you before seeing my daughter. Now, come with me to the kitchen, Gladys, and have some lunch. Then we’ll arrange for a car to take you back to Leeds, to see Molly and later to your home.’

‘Oh, please, it’s not necessary, honestly it isn’t. I’ll get off, after I’ve said goodbye to Atlanta. She’s a good little girl, you know, very grown up in so many ways, Mr Rhodes.’

‘Yes, I know. She’s a treasure,’ he said, escorting her out of the room. ‘I’m very grateful to you, Gladys, and I won’t let you leave here without some food in you, and a car to take you wherever you want to go. And by the way, you’d better give me your phone number so that I have it handy.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I will. I don’t live far away from Mrs Caldwell, just a couple of streets down.’ There was a moment’s hesitation, before she said softly, ‘Thanks for being so nice.’

He smiled at her, but said nothing, and led her through the entrance foyer in the direction of the kitchen. He saw her looking around, staring at his paintings. But she didn’t make any comment and neither did he.

‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’ Atlanta cried the moment she saw Dusty, coming forward to meet him as he entered the kitchen, dancing towards him on tiptoes, her laughter echoing all around them. She was tall for three, graceful and slender, ‘his little beanshoot’, he called her.

As she came into his arms there was no mistaking whose child she was with her jet-black hair and light blue eyes. It always seemed to him that there was nothing of Melinda in her. After hugging her, kissing her cheek, he put her down on the floor and gave her a huge smile. ‘We’re going to have a fun weekend together while Grandma gets her leg mended.’

‘Does it hurt her, Daddy?’ Atlanta asked, staring up at him. Without waiting for his answer she shook her head and said, ‘She didn’t cry.’

‘No, I don’t think it hurts, darling,’ he answered and then turning to Gladys he said, ‘Please stay for something to eat, it’s already twelve-thirty. You must be hungry.’

Before Gladys could respond, Atlanta looked across at her and announced, ‘Valetta’s made spaghetti, Gladys. It’s got tomatoes in it.’

‘I don’t think I can have lunch here, Atlanta, and—’

‘Oh please, please,’ Atlanta cut in, and looking at Dusty she went on, ‘Make Gladys stay, Daddy, please.’

Dusty grinned, gazing down at Atlanta, and said, ‘I’m having lunch with your friend India, and then this afternoon she’s going to take you out. So, why don’t you eat here in the kitchen, and Valetta will make some more of your favourite things, and then we’ll all go for a drive.’

Atlanta nodded. ‘Can I go and see Indi? I like her.’

‘She hasn’t arrived yet, but of course you can say hello to her … she’s bringing her grandmother to see me.’

‘Oh. Is she like my grandma?’ the child asked, staring up at her father.

Dusty bit back the laugh that rose in his throat, and said, ‘No. I think she’s quite different altogether. In fact, there’s a big difference. But her grandma’s as nice as yours.’

‘Oh goody.’ Atlanta ran to Gladys and took hold of her hand. ‘You’ll like Indi. She’s nice. She tells stories and reads to me.’

‘I know how much you like that. But I really think I have to go, lovey, I’ll meet your friend India another time.’

‘Oh. Don’t go, Gladys,’ the child beseeched, clinging to her hand.

‘I have to visit your grandmother,’ Gladys explained, and then becoming aware of the sudden tears welling in Atlanta’s eyes, she said, ‘Well, all right, I’ll stay and have a snack with you.’ She managed a small chuckle, added with a twinkle, ‘I’m getting a bit peckish.’

‘Like the birds!’ Atlanta exclaimed, laughing. ‘That’s what you always say. Peckish like the birds.’

Dusty said, ‘Then it’s settled. Come on, Gladys, and you too, Atlanta. You can both sit here at the table, and Valetta will bring plates of her delicious spaghetti, and whatever else you want. All right, Valetta?’

‘That’s fine, Mr Rhodes,’ the cook said, laughter in her dark eyes. Waving her wooden spoon, she turned back to her pans, stirring the contents of one of them. ‘I’m almost ready to serve.’

As Dusty was leading his child and Gladys Roebotham to the table at the far end of the large, family-style kitchen he heard the sound of a car outside on the gravel driveway. Kissing the top of Atlanta’s dark head, he murmured, ‘Drink some of your water, darling, and I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Yes, Daddy,’ she answered dutifully sitting in a chair. She picked up the small glass of water and took a swallow. ‘Sipping like the ducks,’ she said, smiling at Gladys.

Dusty strode across the main entrance foyer, heading for the front door, intent on greeting India and her grandmother on the steps. As he opened the door and went out onto the terrace he saw them coming slowly towards him.

He knew better than to go and escort them inside. The Dowager Countess of Dunvale was something of a tartar, with a very sharp tongue, and was quite determined to look after herself. She resisted any help from others, and he understood absolutely. She was extremely independent and self-reliant, and he admired her for her extraordinary stamina and fortitude. After all, she was ninety-five and anything but senile. Far be it from him to undermine her confidence in herself.

India waved to him and he waved back. He wondered how she would react to the news that Atlanta was here for a week at least. He would give her all of the details as soon as they were settled in the sitting room having their aperitif. Her grandmother liked a drink before lunch, and her insistence on ‘a drop of sherry’, as she put it, always tickled him. He would tell India about Molly Caldwell at once, so there was no misunderstanding. Months ago she had accused him of ‘lying by omission’, and he had no desire to have that accusation levelled at him again.

He knew that India liked the child as much as Atlanta liked her, and her presence would not present any problems, as far as he could see. Angelina, the housekeeper, and Valetta, the cook, would keep an eye on her whilst he was painting during the morning, and he would spend time in the afternoon with her. After all, India would be at the Leeds store during the week, and she still lived at Pennistone Royal, spending only the weekends with him here at Willows Hall. No, the child would not be intrusive on them or their relationship, he decided, and then it struck him that Gladys Roebotham could be very useful. It was obvious Atlanta was attached to her, and Gladys seemed to reciprocate the child’s feelings. Perhaps she would consider spending part of the coming week here looking after Atlanta.

‘Excuse me, Mr Rhodes,’ Paddy said from the entrance foyer.

Dusty swung around to face the house manager. ‘Yes, Paddy?’

‘I’ve put a decanter of Amontillado in the sitting room, and I was wondering if there is anything else you need?’

‘I don’t think so, thanks very much. Lunch in about half an hour. Oh, and Paddy, order a car for Mrs Roebotham, would you, please? It’s to take her back home, with a stop-off at Leeds Infirmary to see Mrs Caldwell. And please tell her I’ll be in to have a word with her in a few minutes.’

‘Right you are, sir,’ Paddy murmured and was gone on silent feet.

‘Good morning, Countess,’ Dusty said a moment later as India and her grandmother finally came to a standstill in front of him.

‘Good morning, Dusty, and countess is far too formal. I do keep telling you that. You must call me Edwina.’

‘You know I can’t,’ he replied, laughing. ‘That’s not respectful.’

She chuckled with him, and then suggested, ‘Why not call me Great-Aunt Edwina? Or Grandmother. But perhaps you have a grandmother of your own?’

‘No, she’s dead.’ Turning to India he smiled lovingly, and kissed her cheek. ‘Hello, darling,’ he whispered against her hair, before he ushered them both into the house.

Within several seconds he had Edwina settled comfortably in a chair near the fireplace, and India went and perched on the sofa, waiting for him as he poured Amontillado into glasses and brought the sherry to them.

‘Cheers, ladies,’ he said, lifting his glass, and sat down on the sofa next to India.

‘Cheers,’ India answered, as did her grandmother.

Staring hard at Dusty, India now said, ‘You’ve got a peculiar expression on your face. What’s the matter?’

How well she knew him, and in ways no one else ever had before.

His new tactic was to tell her everything up front, without preamble, and so he said, ‘It’s Mrs Caldwell. She had a heart attack late yesterday afternoon, and the woman who helps her brought Atlanta over here this morning.’

‘Oh, how dreadful!’ India exclaimed. ‘I mean about the heart attack. How is Mrs Caldwell today?’

‘Apparently it’s serious but not life-threatening. She’ll be in hospital for about a week, and from what Mrs Roebotham says, the prognosis is good. I’ll call the doctor later; in the meantime Atlanta’s here to say with me for a few days. Until her grandmother’s better, actually.’

India smiled at him. ‘Don’t look so concerned, Dusty, she’ll be fine with us, and I couldn’t be happier. It’s lovely to have her here for the weekend. We’ll have some fun together. Where is she now?’

‘Having lunch with Mrs Roebotham in the kitchen, but she’s really looking forward to seeing you later.’

‘So am I. And Grandma, you’ll get to meet Dusty’s little girl. She’s just adorable.’

Edwina simply nodded and took a sip of sherry. No doubt Atlanta was adorable, and certainly India was genuine in her affection for the child, but Edwina couldn’t help thinking that it was a good thing she was still only three years old. And still malleable. There was no doubt in Edwina’s mind that Dusty and India would end up raising his child. His former girlfriend was recovering from a serious drug-addiction and her mother obviously had a wonky heart. She might not live long; and who could answer for the daughter … addictions were hard to kick …

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tessa Fairley stood in her room at Pennistone Royal, lost in thought. Of late, there were moments when she couldn’t help wondering what the rest of her life was going to be like. What did the future hold in store for her? What was her destiny to be?

The one certainty, the one steadfast thing in her life, was her devotion and love for her three-year-old daughter Adele. Everything else was vague, up in the air, or out of her grasp, at least so it seemed to her lately.

Would she be made managing director of the Harte stores by her mother? Would she then run them herself, as she had always wanted to do? Or would her mother decide to make her joint managing director with her sister Linnet? Shared responsibilities had been bruited about in the past few months, startling her, disappointing her, putting her on guard. That was something she had never wanted … sharing the top spot with her sister.

Conversely, would she abandon her career, ambitions, and dreams of being the new Emma Harte, and instead marry Jean-Claude Deléon?

She smiled inwardly. There was just one small problem in that regard: he had not asked her to marry him. But if he did propose, and if she accepted, there would be a vast upheaval in her life and that of her child.

Since he lived and worked in Paris, she would have to move across the Channel and make a life with him there. Could she be happy in France?

Tessa almost laughed out loud. Of course she could. She was a dyed-in-the-wool Francophile, and she loved Paris, knew the City of Light as well as she knew London. Well, almost. Years before meeting Jean-Claude, she had been going to Paris on a regular basis, and Shane O’Neill, her stepfather, owned one of the most exclusive and deluxe hotels in the city, on the elegant Avenue Montaigne, off the Champs Élysées.

Then there was Jean-Claude’s small country estate where he spent most weekends. Located outside Paris, near Fontainebleau, it was a picturesque country manor called Clos-Fleuri. On her first visit last summer she had taken an instant liking to it, and she felt at home there, as if she truly belonged. Apart from the beautiful grounds and gardens, the house was lovely, full of charm, and when she was there she felt enveloped in quiet luxury and comfort. There was a peacefulness about it that she cherished.

All of these points aside, Tessa was deeply in love with Jean-Claude, and she had realized from the beginning of their affair that she could be happy with him anywhere.

Tessa had never known anyone like him. He was loving, warm, and kind to her, and he adored little Adele. Emotional considerations apart, he was a man she respected and admired. He had a vivid intelligence, was clever, street-smart, and absolutely brilliant in his work. Yet despite his superior intellect, he never made her feel inferior. They got on well and were great companions; she had never felt that way with her former husband, Mark Longden. He had always managed to put her down and beat her up – verbally and physically.

Jean-Claude Deléon, one of the most famous men in France, if not indeed in the world, had fallen in love with her the minute he had met her. And she with him. He called it a coup de foudre. ‘We were struck by lightning,’ he sometimes said, smiling at her tenderly.

That had been last August. In the last five months they had managed to spend a great deal of time together in Paris and London, at Clos-Fleuri, and here in Yorkshire at her mother’s home. And during these months they had grown closer, come to know each other most intimately on every level. It was so right, this affair of theirs, and they both knew it.

But there was a problem, and it troubled her. What would she do if she married him? She had always worked. Hard graft was bred in the bone of every Harte, and she was no exception. She had been brought up to be disciplined, dedicated, driven, and an achiever. Just as the whole family had. So wouldn’t she be bored if she didn’t have a job?

Naturally she would be bored. Bored silly. And especially since Jean-Claude worked like a Trojan himself, writing books, screenplays, plays for the theatre, and articles for newspapers and magazines. He filmed documentaries and gave lectures. He was forever occupied.

And then there was his great fame in France. He was the philosopher-king, the favourite of presidents and politicians, and a member of the Parisian elite.

Fame had its own demands. She was well aware of that; her brother Lorne, her beloved twin, was a famous actor. Fame ate up his time, just as it ate Jean-Claude’s time. There were personal appearances, press and publicity, events to attend, and she knew it was all part of his work.

Tessa let out a heavy sigh and sat down in the chair at her desk. There were so many questions bouncing around in her head this morning, and no answers were forthcoming.

She glanced at the mail on her desk, which she had brought with her from London. After reading the letters and emails, she put them back in their folder and pushed it to the end of the desk, an old French bureau plat she treasured. Then her eyes scanned the little sitting room which adjoined her bedroom. This intimate suite of rooms had been hers for as long as she could remember, and she loved its primrose-yellow walls and yellow-and-red toile de Jouy documentary print at the windows. In this room were displayed all her favourite possessions, decorative objects, beloved books and paintings, which she had collected over the years. They helped to give the two rooms their attractive aspects and personality, bespoke her taste as well as personal preferences. It was distinctively her décor and no one else’s.

Glancing at her watch Tessa suddenly realized she ought to go downstairs and find Jean-Claude and the others, offer them drinks before lunch. Her mother, who had gone to West Tanfield with Aunt Emily, had asked her to look after everyone, be the hostess in her absence.

Earlier, when she had talked to Margaret, the housekeeper had insisted on making lunch, because, as she put it, ‘You’ll have your hands full doing dinner tonight, Miss Tessa.’ And so she had let the housekeeper take over. A short while ago, Margaret had come up to tell her about the menu. She was making hot leek-and-potato soup, a chicken pot pie, a cottage pie, and fish cakes for those who wanted lighter fare. There was green salad and cheese, as well as fresh fruit.

Margaret had then thought to add, ‘And what about all this lamb stew, Miss Tessa? You’ve ordered far too much meat. Why, there’s enough to feed an army, that there is!’

Tessa had quickly answered that there were a lot of bones in lamb shoulder and neck, and that everyone liked a stew the next day anyway, because it tasted even better.

Tutting to herself, Margaret had said no more, but she had looked annoyed as she stomped off to the kitchen. Perhaps she’s cross with me because I’ve invaded her territory again, Tessa thought, then shrugged. She enjoyed cooking, and if she was in the kitchen Margaret could have a night off. But the housekeeper wouldn’t see it that way.

Rising, Tessa now walked through into her bedroom, and took a sage-green wool jacket out of the wardrobe. Slipping it on, she swung around and stood for a moment regarding the bed.

No one had ever shared this bed with her in all of her life. None of her siblings when they were growing up, and certainly not Mark Longden. Whenever she and Mark had stayed at Pennistone Royal after their marriage, she had asked her mother to put them in the Blue-and-White Suite. On these occasions she had been able to use her own rooms as her private place, somewhere to be alone, to rest and work. It was her quiet haven during her marriage, as it had been from childhood. Her little yellow-and-red suite was sacrosanct. No one was ever permitted to share it with her, and never had been.

Until last night. When the house was still and everyone had gone to sleep, Jean-Claude had come to her bedroom at her invitation. He had slipped into the bed with her, taken her in his arms, and held her close. They had loved each other very tenderly … and it had pleased her that he was with her here. He was her one true love, her soul mate, the only man she wanted, and wherever she was she wanted him with her. So her private haven was willingly opened to him, and with joy.

She never worried about the difference in their ages, but she was aware he did. He was over twenty years older, and it bothered him. Sometimes she chided him for that, told him not to be silly, and he would nod, and smile, and change the subject. She wanted to have another child, but only by him; she wanted it even if they weren’t married. But whenever she thought of bringing it up she lost her nerve. Perhaps this weekend she would mention it …

The buzzing phone interrupted her thoughts. ‘Hello?’

‘C’est moi, chérie,’ Jean-Claude said.

‘How odd!’ Tessa exclaimed. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

He chuckled. ‘Nice things, I hope.’

‘Oh yes, very, very, very nice things.’

‘Are you coming downstairs, my Tess? I would like to talk to you about … something.’

‘I was just on my way out, coming down to find you.’

‘I shall await you in the library.’

‘See you in a jiffy.’

She hung up the phone, glanced at herself in the mirror, liking the sage-green wool jacket with the cream sweater and matching cream-wool trousers. Invariably, Tessa wore light colours, knowing how well they suited her pale blonde colouring, and she had discovered Jean-Claude preferred them to darker shades.

Hurrying across the bedroom, she went out into the corridor and down the wide curving staircase, heading for the library, wondering what he wanted to talk to her about.

The great Stone Hall was empty, but a fire blazed up the chimney and it was a warm and welcoming sight, as were the many large pots of gold, yellow and bronze chrysanthemums and the white orchids. Her mother always had a lovely display of plants in the Stone Hall, following the tradition started by Emma many years before. Gardening was Paula’s hobby and many of the plants in the house were grown by her in the greenhouses.

Tessa’s high-heeled cream boots made a staccato sound as she crossed the Stone Hall, and went into the library.

Jean-Claude swung around as she entered and he hurried over to her, kissed her cheek.

His face was cold against hers, and she exclaimed, ‘Did you go out for a walk after all?’

‘Mais oui, chérie. I needed fresh air. And to clear my head,’ he explained, and taking hold of her hand he led her down the long room. ‘Let’s sit here, near the terrace windows,’ he murmured. Once they were seated he stared into her face, his eyes searching, as if he were trying to ascertain her mood.

‘What is it?’ Tessa asked, frowning, staring back at him. ‘You look so intense. Worried, even.’ Anxiety suddenly flared in her, and she wondered what he had on his mind.

‘No, not worried. Intense, perhaps. Tess, I am going to … get this out. Say it. I cannot encase it in fancy rhetoric.’

She felt herself stiffening, alerted to trouble, and she gave him a harder, more probing stare. ‘I don’t understand … what do you mean? You sound as if you’re going to tell me about something … unpleasant. About us, maybe?’

‘Non, non, chérie. What I have to say is not about us. I have been given a big assignment. For a French television network, and I wanted to explain … I will be out of Paris for a while, perhaps for several weeks. Possibly a month at the most. I hate to leave you, Tessa, but it is an important assignment I have been offered. I must take it.’

Relief flooded through her, and she exclaimed, ‘That’s fine, I understand.’ She laughed somewhat weakly, and added, with a slight grimace, ‘I thought you were going to announce something quite awful, like you were finished with me … that it was over … that we were over.’

Startled by her words, baffled at her lack of faith in him, he looked at her askance, and said softly, ‘That will never ever happen … you must not worry about such a thing. Which reminds me, I have this for you.’ As he spoke he pulled a small leather box out of his pocket and handed it to her silently.

Tessa took the box, lifted the lid, and her eyes grew wide as she stared down at a glittering diamond engagement ring. ‘Jean-Claude!’ she gasped, surprise echoing. ‘It’s perfectly beautiful.’

He beamed at her. ‘Do you like it?’

She nodded. ‘Of course. I love it. And I love you!’

He took the box away from her, took out the ring, and put it on her finger. As he did so, he said, ‘Do you think I have to ask Shane for your hand in marriage? Or am I being a little old-fashioned?’

She laughed uproariously, amused at this suggestion. ‘You don’t have to ask him. Or Mummy. I am a divorced woman, after all … well, not quite divorced. Yet.’

‘And will you be my wife, Tessa, once you are free?’ he asked, his voice solemn, his face serious, intent.

‘Oh yes, Jean-Claude, very much yes.’

He leaned closer, kissed her on the mouth, and told her, ‘You’ve just made me a happy man. A very happy man, my darling.’

‘And I’m a happy woman.’ She held out her hand, gazing at the ring. ‘It’s just beautiful, Jean-Claude. Thank you so much.’

‘It’s an old ring, I had it reset. It suits you.’ He smiled at her indulgently. ‘I think diamonds are your stones.’

‘And why not?’ she asked gaily, and then sobering slightly, she added, ‘But you haven’t told me where you’re going. Where is your assignment taking you?’

‘To Afghanistan.’

She gaped at him, flabbergasted. For a split second words failed her, but after a moment she gasped, ‘Oh, no, not there. You’re going to cover the war there. You could get hurt. Why, you could even get killed!’

‘Non, non. Jamais … never. I will be fine. Remember, chérie, I have done this many times before. I am a war correspondent, Tessa. You must not forget that. I learned long ago not to take risks.’

‘But Jean-Claude, being a war correspondent is terribly dangerous, whatever you say,’ she protested.

‘That I do not deny. However, I am experienced, and I am not a hot head. I do not put myself in harm’s way, and I have been there before when the Russians invaded Afghanistan. I know the terrain.’

‘I shall be frantic with worry,’ she cried, her face paler than usual, her eyes stricken. She began to tremble.

‘I know that, but the time will pass quickly. It will be only a month. And thank God for cell phones. We can speak every day.’

‘Please don’t go—’

He held up his hand. ‘My Tess, you know who I am, what I am all about. I must go. I do not have a choice in this matter. It is what I do. And you must learn to live with it.’ His tone brooked no argument. He sounded suddenly tough and very determined.

‘You have to go? You really do?’ she said in a low voice.

‘I do.’

‘Then I shall have to learn to live with it,’ she answered, and blinked rapidly as tears welled.

Jean-Claude noticed her tears at once, and put his arms around her, held her close. ‘Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise,’ he reassured her. ‘I shall come back to you safely. We shall be married as soon as your divorce is final, and we will be together always.’

Tessa did not answer. She was too choked up to say anything. As he held her closer she silently prayed that he would be safe, that he would come back to her all in one piece.

CHAPTER NINE

‘I need to speak with you.’ Lorne nodded, looking across at his twin sister from the window seat, where he had so often sat as a child, here in the old playroom on the top floor of Pennistone Royal underneath the attics.

Tessa stood near the ancient rocking horse, Gallant Lad, which had been ridden by their mother, aunts, uncles and cousins before them. The vibrant red, green, yellow and white paint was faded now, cracked and chipped, and the black mane had thinned with time, but oh how that beloved horse had been ridden, hugged, patted and enjoyed by so many Harte children.

Lorne waited patiently for her to speak; he was always patient with her and loving; they were the closest of friends and he knew she was not the ogre so many of the family thought she was. He noticed how pensive she looked, saw the worry flickering in her silvery-grey eyes, so like his own, and he immediately thought of that bastard of an ex-husband of hers. Well, soon to be ex, and he wondered if Mark Longden had been causing more trouble. Whenever he thought of him Lorne saw red, wanted to find him and thrash him within an inch of his life. He had mistreated and abused Tessa, and as far as Lorne was concerned no punishment was too harsh for him. Blackguard, he thought under his breath, using a very old-fashioned word, but one he believed most appropriate.

‘Come on, tell me! Speak to me, Ancient One,’ he coaxed, using the name he had invented for her when they were children, and when, at the tender age of five, she had announced to him that she was the elder twin by five minutes and therefore their mother’s heir. Much to her chagrin he had never let her forget that little child’s boast.

Tessa smiled her special smile, the one she reserved only for him, and giving the rocking horse a little push so that it began to move, she looked directly at Lorne and murmured, ‘Jean-Claude’s going to Afghanistan. To cover the war for a French network.’

‘Is he really! That’s great, he’ll be in his element. He’s such a brilliant war correspondent …’ Lorne’s voice faltered as he instantly noticed the pained look crossing her face and quickly he added, ‘Oh God, Tessa, how stupid I’m being. You’re worried, of course, and who wouldn’t be? Reporting a war is dangerous, I know that. But listen …’ Lorne leaned forward, his expression serious, intent, as he swiftly went on. ‘He’s been at this game for years. He knows what he’s doing, he’s a seasoned war correspondent and not a beginner, wet behind the ears. Please try not to worry.’

‘Easy to say, brother of mine, hard to do.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Very hard not to be on the verge of panic.’

He nodded, compressed his lips, understanding exactly how she felt. ‘Knowing you, I suppose you told him how nervous you are about this.’

‘Yes, Lorne, I did. I asked him not to go.’

‘And?’

‘He told me he had to, and that I would have to get used to it … more or less those words, anyway. He was adamant, so naturally I agreed with him.’ She lifted her slender shoulders in a light shrug. ‘What else could I say?’

‘Nothing really,’ Lorne agreed. ‘In reality, you have no choice. You have to go along with him. He’s a fifty-three-year-old man who’s been doing what he wants all his life, especially when it comes to his work, his career. That’s who he is. His own man. I doubt he could be deterred, once he’d made up his mind, not by you or me or anyone else. Look, it is his forte, after all.’

‘That’s right, and he’s good at it. And over the last few years he’s become an expert on the Middle East, fanaticism and militancy. He said to me only the other day that it’s a political philosophy – waging war against the Western democracies, that is. He has the need to understand, to write about such things. That’s one of the reasons he’s excited about going to cover this war.’

‘I realize that. Actually, he’s talked a lot to me about the Middle East, especially in the last year. But listen, Tess, the news is good, and has been since December. Things are better, most certainly, and let’s not forget he knows the country, covered the last war there when the Russians invaded Afghanistan.’

‘I know, he’s told me bits about it, and anyway I read his book Warriors, and he covered it in that.’

Moving away from the rocking horse, Tessa walked over to the window seat, and Lorne made room for her as he had done when they were children. Leaning back against him, she murmured softly, ‘I’m so afraid he might get killed.’

‘He could get killed walking across the Champs Élysées,’ Lorne answered. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he went on quietly, putting his arms around her, wanting to calm and reassure her.

Tessa nodded, then sat up slightly, put her hand in her pocket and brought out the diamond engagement ring. Turning around to look up at her brother, she said, ‘We’re engaged,’ and showed him the ring.

Lorne stared at it, then whistled, and his eyes twinkled as he exclaimed, ‘I’m thrilled. Congratulations. I couldn’t be happier for you.’ He started to laugh then, looking at her with sudden amusement.

‘What is it?’ she asked curiously, eyeing him intently, frowning.

‘When I set the two of you up, I never guessed it would actually come to this … a permanent relationship.’

‘I knew it!’ Tessa cried, punching his arm. ‘Right from the beginning. I told Jean-Claude on our first date that I suspected you’d brought us together, and very specifically, to have an affair.’

‘And aren’t you glad I did?’

‘You bet!’ Smiling, she slid the ring on her engagement finger and showed it to him again. ‘Look, Lorne.’

‘It’s a bobby dazzler, and so are you!’ he exclaimed and then he added in a more sober tone, ‘He’s a good man, Tess. True blue. And he’s very good for you, just as you’re so good for him. And when do you plan to get married?’

‘As soon as we can, and I’d really like it to be before June. I don’t want to infringe on India’s splashy wedding in Ireland.’

‘I agree. And can I hope to be best man?’

She grinned. ‘We haven’t got that far. He only just gave me the ring this morning. But I’m sure he’ll ask you.’

Lorne nodded. ‘When does his assignment actually start?’

‘In two weeks. He’s going to Paris on Monday, but he’ll fly directly from Paris to Yorkshire on Thursday … he says he’s determined to attend one of our famous family weddings.’

‘Learning the ropes, eh?’ Lorne teased.

‘I suppose. Thanks, Lorne, for getting us together in the first place. It means the world to me that you did that for me, that you cared enough.’

‘Hey, come on, don’t be a silly goose. Incidentally, why aren’t you wearing the ring? Be careful you don’t lose it, leaving it floating around in your pocket like that.’

‘I’ll wear it tonight, after we’ve told Mummy and Dad. They don’t know yet, since they’re both out.’

‘Then we’ll make it a celebration tonight.’

‘That’s an idea … Lorne?’

‘Yes, what is it? You sound suddenly mournful.’

‘I’m worried about not having a job after I marry Jean-Claude. I’ve always worked. What I mean is, I’ll have to give up Harte’s.’

Her twin gave her a long, thoughtful look, frowning, shaking his head. ‘Is it still that important to you, working at Harte’s?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

‘You’re thirty-two, darling, and you’ve had a lot of success at the stores. But let’s not forget the rough ride you had with Mark Longden. A very bad marriage that gave you absolutely zilch.’

‘It gave me Adele.’

‘Yes, of course, and I know you love her, I know what she means to you. But you’re a young woman, you should have happiness with a man, a fulfilled life. And how often do we find the right person? The one for us? I haven’t yet. But you have. Jean-Claude is the perfect man for you, and you’re going to be very busy being his wife and bringing up Adele. And what if you have a child, or indeed children, by him?’

‘You’re right, Lorne,’ she replied very quietly, looking into the distance.

‘I know you, Tessa, and you’re thinking about Linnet. About Linnet being the head of Harte’s, and that kills you, doesn’t it?’

Tessa stared at him. She said nothing, biting her lip.

There was silence.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

It was Lorne who finally said, ‘You’ve just got to get over this jealousy of yours. You’ve been rivals for years and it just makes for bad blood between you. And upsets us all.’

‘I know … but she wants the top job desperately.’

‘And she’ll probably get it. Face that now. You’ll be living in Paris with your new husband. She’ll be here, right on the spot. Of course Mummy’s going to give it to her.’

‘I wish I could commute.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous! That wouldn’t work. You’d better make up your mind to forget having the power at the stores, and think of your marriage. I don’t believe you can have both. And to my way of thinking, you’ll be happier being Madame Jean-Claude Deléon than the new Emma Harte. That role’s for Linnet. Accept it.’

Tessa stared at him. She did not reply.

‘I would like to speak to the Countess of Dunvale, please, Paddy. This is Linnet O’Neill.’

‘Oh hello, Miss O’Neill,’ Paddy Whitaker said pleasantly. ‘I’ll put you through to the dining room.’

‘Oh, I don’t want to disturb their lunch!’

‘No, no, it’s all right, they’ve finished. Just a moment please, Miss O’Neill.’

It was India who picked up the phone in the dining room, and said, ‘Hello, Linnet, I hear you want to speak to Grandma.’

‘For a minute or two, India. I hope I’m not phoning at an inopportune time.’

‘No, no, it’s fine. We’ve finished lunch, just waiting to have coffee. Let me get Grandma.’

Linnet waited several minutes before she heard that famous sonorous voice. ‘Here I am, Linnet. To what do I owe this honour? An unexpected phone call from you is a rarity.’

‘Oh gosh, Great-Aunt Edwina, don’t say that. You make me feel guilty.’

‘Don’t be daft, and guilt’s a terrible waste of time.’

‘Yes, Great-Aunt Edwina,’ Linnet responded and went on quickly, ‘I need to talk to you about Uncle Robin and Evan’s family, and it’s urgent.’

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

‘No. But there could be. Is it at all possible for me to see you tomorrow? I could drive over.’

‘Today would be better, my dear. And if it’s urgent, isn’t it better we meet today? Or can you tell me about this problem on the phone?’

‘I’d prefer to talk it out with you in person. I have an idea. Why don’t you come to supper tonight? Tessa’s cooking, she’s making her famous lamb stew.’

‘It sounds delicious, but I’m not sure I could eat another big meal,’ Edwina protested, although she was now riddled with curiosity.

‘You don’t have to eat anything much, you know. You can pick, like the model girls do.’

Edwina laughed. ‘Well, I am free this evening, and—’

‘I could invite Robin, Great-Aunt, and we could kill two birds with one stone,’ Linnet cut in swiftly. ‘Please say you’ll come. It’s very important.’

‘What actually is it about?’

‘It’s too complicated to explain on the phone, but let’s just say this … I need you to talk some sense into him. About having the Hughes family stay with him. They can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Jonathan Ainsley’s unexpectedly in Yorkshire, and he might cause trouble for everyone. And especially Owen Hughes.’

‘Ah yes, of course, Linnet, you are absolutely right.’ There was a little pause. Edwina took a deep breath and announced in her familiar, commanding voice, ‘I shall come tonight. And you must make sure Robin is there as well. You are correct, as usual. As your great-grandmother always was. Only I can talk some sense into my brother.’

‘Thanks for agreeing,’ Linnet exclaimed, her voice suddenly cheerful and breezy. ‘Shall I send somebody over to fetch you?’

‘No, no, that’s not necessary. I have my driver. Just tell me what time I should arrive, and I shall be there promptly.’

‘You’d better come before drinks. About six-thirty, if that’s all right with you? Then we can have a chat before Uncle Robin arrives. Just the two of us. Oh, and it’s a casual evening, Great-Aunt Edwina.’

‘I am never casual, my dear. I shall dress for dinner as usual.’

‘Could I have a word with you in private, Gladys?’ Dusty said, walking across the kitchen to the small eating area where Gladys was finishing lunch with Atlanta.

‘Of course you can, Mr Rhodes,’ Gladys Roebotham responded, standing up, moving away from the small table. ‘I’ll be back in three shakes of a lamb’s tail,’ she said to the child, who laughed and clapped her hands with glee on hearing these words.

Dusty smiled lovingly at his daughter, and then turning to Gladys he said, ‘I haven’t heard that expression in donkey’s years. My mother used to say that.’ As he finished he laughed when he saw Atlanta’s face. It was a picture.

Gladys laughed with him and said, ‘It’s funny the way these old-fashioned sayings always have a reference to animals in them. They certainly amuse Atlanta, she loves hearing them.’

‘Indeed she does.’ He guided the young woman across the kitchen and into a small hallway that led out to the back garden.

Gladys said, ‘What did you want to speak to me about, Mr Rhodes?’ She sounded curious.

‘I was wondering if you would be able to do a bit of baby-sitting for me, Gladys? You know, come over and look after Atlanta, if it’s at all necessary? She seems very attached to you, and you’re so good with her.’

Immediately, a troubled look settled on Gladys’s face and she said slowly, worriedly, ‘I’d love to do that, I really would, but it’s a bit of a problem right now. I have a relative staying with me, who’s not been well, and I can’t be away for too long during the day. I’m ever so sorry, Mr Rhodes, I am that.’

‘I am too,’ Dusty responded, forcing a smile, filled with sudden disappointment. Over lunch he had convinced himself that Gladys would be available and that she would solve a lot of problems for him.

Observing him carefully, Gladys saw the crushed look slide onto his face, and swiftly she said, ‘But perhaps I’ll be able to do something to help later on. I mean, if Molly’s still in the hospital and Atlanta’s out here with you.’

‘I’d appreciate it, if that becomes the case, Gladys, I would indeed. I want to thank you again for looking after Atlanta, for being so responsible. Now let me take you back to the kitchen to finish lunch. And whenever you’re ready, Paddy will call for the car to come. It only takes the driver five minutes to get here and he’ll take you anywhere you want to go.’

‘Thanks ever so much, Mr Rhodes, you’ve been ever so nice. Any message for Mrs Caldwell if I do get to visit her for a while?’

‘Yes, of course. Tell her I’m wishing her better very quickly, and that she should have the hospital call if she needs anything. You can also tell her I’ll be in to see her on Monday.’

‘That’ll please her, it really will,’ Gladys Roebotham replied, smiling up at him, thinking what a nice man he was, not at all the villain Melinda Caldwell had made him out to be. In fact he was a real gentleman.

CHAPTER TEN

Paula sat at her grandmother’s old desk in the upstairs parlour making a list of things still to be done for the wedding, when a light tapping on the door brought her head up with a start.

‘Come in,’ she called glancing at the door.

It flew open and Margaret sailed in, carrying a laden tray and exclaiming, ‘Did you think I’d forgotten about your tea, Mrs O’Neill?’

‘No, Margaret, I didn’t, you never forget anything,’ Paula answered, and putting down her pen she rose and went to the fireplace.

The housekeeper bustled over, put the tray on the coffee table, and then straightened. Looking across at Paula, who was now seated on the sofa, she murmured, ‘I made your favourite ginger biscuits, Miss Paula.’ As she spoke she dropped a piece of lemon in the china cup, and asked, ‘Shall I pour the tea, or do you want to wait for Mr O’Neill?’

‘Oh, that’s all right, Margaret, you can pour it,’ Paula answered, smiling at her. The housekeeper had grown up at Pennistone Royal and the two women had known each other all of their lives. Paula thought of Margaret as part of the family, and never paid much attention to her odd moods and moments of familiarity. She said now, ‘I’m so glad Tessa wanted to cook dinner, you can have a night off.’

Margaret shook her head, said a little vehemently, ‘I’ve been pressed into service, so to speak, Mrs O’Neill. Tessa needs a bit of help, that she does.’

Frowning, Paula exclaimed, ‘What do you mean? She makes her lamb stew very quickly … Why does she need help?’

‘I think you ought to know you’re having a dinner party tonight, Miss Paula.’

‘I am?’ Paula sounded baffled and stared at the housekeeper in disbelief.

Margaret nodded emphatically. ‘Eighteen pounds of lamb stew! That’s what Tessa ordered from the butcher. It seems a lot of meat to me but when I questioned her about it, she said there’re loads of bones in neck and shoulder. Which is true, a’course.’

‘I know that,’ Paula answered a bit impatiently, and asked, ‘But who’s coming for dinner? Who are those I don’t know about already?’

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