BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD

Unexpected Blessings

Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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First Published in Great Britian by HarpercollinsPublishers 2004

Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2004

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: 9780006514428

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2014 ISBN: 9780007330669

Version: 2017-10-25

Dedication

For my husband, Robert Bradford,

to whom I owe so much,

with all 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

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

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. 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 Madelana O’Shea Amory. (Deceased)

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

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

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 Harte 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. (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

PART ONE

The Stormy Petrels: Summer 2001

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

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

PART TWO

Emma and Glynnis: Summer 1950

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

PART THREE

Angels Singing: Winter 2001

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Keep Reading

About the Author

Other Books By

About the Publisher

PART ONE
The Stormy Petrels Summer 2001

The name ‘petrel’ is said to be a diminutive of Peter: when feeding the bird flits and hovers just above the water, often with feet pattering on the surface, appearing to ‘walk on water’ as St Peter did in the Bible story.

Field Guide to the BIRDS OF BRITAIN

CHAPTER ONE

Evan Hughes stood in the middle of the fashion floor of Harte’s department store in London’s Knightsbridge. It was seven o’clock in the morning and nothing stirred. All was silent at this hour. By eight the cleaners would be moving around this vast space, and by nine a few of the dedicated sales staff would be arriving to prepare for the store doors opening at ten. Now, though, she was totally alone.

She loved this store and this floor in particular. It was her domain. And hers alone. Last week she had been made head of fashion, a very big promotion which had thrilled her.

As Evan moved slowly across the floor, making for the new haute couture fashion displays, she couldn’t help thinking about the first day she had walked into Harte’s. January 2001. Eight months ago now. She had been very lucky that day. Quite by chance she had met the man of her dreams and had found the job of her dreams. She had never thought her dreams would come true that day. But they had.

Pausing for a moment, Evan glanced around, her light grey-blue eyes devouring everything: the fashion displays under bright lights, the elegance of the whole floor – such an important one in this prestigious department store, considered the greatest in the world.

Harte’s of Knightsbridge had been founded by one of the most famous merchant princes ever known: Emma Harte. She had been dead now for thirty years and the store was run by Emma’s granddaughter, Paula O’Neill. Paula, an elegant woman in her mid-fifties, had inherited her grandmother’s great skills and brilliance as a retailer, and her two daughters Tessa and Linnet were following in her footsteps. Both of them worked at the store; Tessa was in charge of the first three floors which sold cosmetics, perfumes, leisurewear, lingerie and active sports clothes. Linnet, Tessa’s half-sister, was in charge of the fashion floors and also worked with Paula on public relations.

It was Linnet O’Neill who had hired Evan to be one of her assistants, and for the first few months she had helped Linnet to put together a retrospective of fashion which had been a huge success and pulled many new customers into the store.

As a reward for all of her hard work and dedication, Linnet had given her this promotion … and Evan was in her element.

Evan stood in front of the couture fashion displays which had been finished late last night, looking at them for a few minutes. They were great, she decided. The display staff had done a good job with the clothes she had selected.

Turning away, she walked down the floor, making for her office. Tall, slender and dark-haired, she was good-looking, elegant. Back at her desk she glanced at the photograph of Gideon Harte … the man of her dreams. She had fallen in love with him, and he with her, that first day when he had bumped into her in the corridor. She had been looking for the management offices, and he had led her there, all the while firing questions at her. And it was Gideon who had told his cousin Linnet about her; Linnet had subsequently interviewed her and given her a job.

Sitting back in her chair, Evan thought about the past eight months, and all that had happened.

She had never expected to find a second family in England. Only a year ago the only family she knew were her mother and father, and her two adopted sisters who lived in Connecticut. But all that had changed because of her grandmother, Glynnis Hughes. On her deathbed her grandmother had told her to go to England to find Emma Harte, saying that Emma was the key to her future. And Evan had done exactly that, only to discover Emma was dead. But she had fallen in love with the store, and decided to get a job there.

And now here she was, working at Harte’s, involved with Gideon, planning a future with him, and struggling to adapt herself to a whole new family. Because she herself was actually a Harte. It was Paula who had discovered that Evan was another great-granddaughter of Emma Harte’s, because Evan’s grandmother Glynnis had given birth to a son fathered by one of Emma’s sons. And that child was Evan’s father.

They had welcomed her, treated her kindly, with enormous understanding, but at times things had been difficult for Evan. So many things to unravel, so much to accept, so many people to get to know. Sometimes it seemed endless to her, and problematical. She worried a lot, dwelled on all this for hours.

Most troubling of all was the knowledge she had about her father’s biological father … facts she had been afraid to relay to him. Would her father Owen Hughes welcome the information? Would he really want to know that the man who had brought him up was not his father after all? She didn’t know, and she continued to wrestle with these questions.

Evan knew she had to come to a decision. Her mother and father were coming to London in a week or so, to see her, spend time with her, and have a vacation.

Could she look her father in the eye and not tell him the truth? Could she keep it a secret? And should she? Nobody could advise her really. Gideon had told her to do what she thought best, and everyone else had been noncommital.

The ball was back in her court.

And then there was Robin Ainsley, her new grandfather, the man who had been her grandmother’s lover during the Second World War. He had been a pilot in the Royal Air Force, a Battle of Britain pilot, and her grandmother, Glynnis Jenkins then, had been a young woman from Wales who worked as Emma Harte’s secretary, here in this very store.

She liked Robin; her feelings were even stronger than that. And she knew only too well that he longed to meet his son, Owen Hughes. But would her father want to meet this stranger – a stranger who was his real father? His mother’s lover. Oh God.

Evan turned on her computer, and after a few moments started to work on it, but within an hour the troubling thoughts about Robin, Glynnis, and her father’s imminent arrival began to intrude. Turning the computer off, she made a snap decision. She would take Linnet’s advice and go to Yorkshire after all for a week’s rest. And she would go to see Robin Ainsley, still needing to know about his relationship with her grandmother, and most of all to understand why Robin and Glynnis had never married.

‘She was beautiful and glamorous: the most sexually potent woman I’ve ever known. But I realized we would be disastrous together in the long run. We would’ve ended up killing each other,’ Robin Ainsley finished with a small sigh, and sat back in the wingchair, his eyes on Evan Hughes.

Evan was silent for a moment, digesting his words, and then she said slowly, ‘Because you were so volatile together, is that what you mean?’

‘Exactly. We never had a peaceful moment.’

‘You weren’t compatible?’

‘Not in any way, except in bed. But one cannot build a lasting, lifetime relationship on sex alone.’

Evan nodded, and eyed him carefully, then confided, ‘Gran was always pounding it into me that compatibility between a man and a woman was the most important thing of all. And I know for a fact that she was compatible with my grandfather, I mean Richard Hughes.’

‘Please don’t correct yourself, Evan,’ Robin said in a quiet voice, shaking his head. ‘Richard Hughes was your grandfather, just as he was your father’s father. Glynnis was a wonderful young woman when I knew her, but put very simply, she wasn’t suitable for me, nor I for her, not on a normal, everyday level. We were far too explosive. It was my fault as much as hers.’

‘Is that why you finally broke up with her?’

‘It is. At that time our dreadful quarrels were increasing, alarmingly so. Life with her was hell.’

‘But she was pregnant, Robin, and you did nothing …’ Evan’s voice trailed off as she realized she might have sounded accusatory. She had not meant to place blame.

‘We’ve already discussed this,’ Robin responded patiently. ‘But I shall explain one more time … we broke up, I started seeing Valerie Ludden. She and I were compatible, and became seriously involved. When Glynnis told me she was expecting my child, I had already made a commitment to Valerie. However, let me say this, so you truly understand. I would not have married your grandmother even if there had been no other woman in my life. We could not have led a worthwhile life and she knew that too.’

‘I’m sorry, Robin, I am being a bit of a pest, aren’t I?’

‘That’s all right,’ he responded, a faint shadow touching his mouth. ‘I understand your need to know everything.’

‘I wonder why Glynnis wouldn’t allow you to help her financially?’

‘Pride, for the most part, so I believe.’

‘She let Emma Harte come to her rescue, though.’

‘She did. My mother loved Glynnis like a daughter and she knew this, and she knew how much my mother sympathized with her. When my mother was a young girl she had been in a similar predicament, pregnant by a man who wouldn’t marry her, and obviously there was a great deal of empathy there.’

‘Thanks for talking about this, Robin. I really needed to know exactly what went on between you and my grandmother all those years ago.’

‘Sexual passion. I was also in love with her; it just wasn’t enough for a steady, stable life.’ He smiled at her then, his face softening with sudden tenderness, his faded blue eyes benign, loving.

Evan smiled back at him, reached out and took hold of his long, slender hand, squeezed it in hers. The two of them were seated on the large sofa in the library at Lackland Priory, Robin’s house in Yorkshire, meeting for the first time in several weeks. They were glad to be together again, to have this chance to get to know each other better.

The old man and the young woman. Related by blood, but unknown to each other, total strangers, until recently. The grandfather. The granddaughter. Two people who had only just discovered the other’s existence, who wanted to be friends, to understand each other, to find a certain kind of closeness, even the intimacy of family, if that was possible. The younger striving to comprehend the past and a disastrous long-ago relationship; the elder hoping that the past and his actions then would not damage him too badly in her eyes today, in the present.

The silence in this harmonious and peaceful room was broken by the sudden shrilling of the telephone, startling them both. Almost instantly the ringing stopped; the phone had been answered elsewhere in the house by a staff member.

A moment later the butler appeared in the doorway. ‘Excuse me, sir, Dr Harvey’s on the phone. He would like a word with you.’

‘Thank you, Bolton,’ Robin answered, and, excusing himself to Evan, he rose, striding over to the desk. Sitting down, he picked up the receiver. ‘Good morning, James.’

Evan also rose and walked across to the French windows which opened onto the terrace of the ancient manor house. She stepped outside, closing the doors behind her, and took several deep breaths. The air was always clean and fresh up here in the Dales. It was a glorious morning in early August, the sky azure blue and without cloud: a sunny, golden day filled with pristine light, just as it had been yesterday and the day before. She had grown to love this crystalline light which she had discovered was so prevalent and unique to the north of England.

Now she sat down on the stone bench and stared out across the wide green lawns that splayed out from the house and were bordered by flower beds filled with colourful perennials. Her eyes finally came to rest on the copse of trees which stood slightly away from the house, to the right of the lawns. Beyond their opulent, leafy bowers she could see the rim of the moors, a dark smudge against the pale, blue-tinted horizon. It was such a beautiful spot, this long valley in the middle of the Dales where Lackland Priory had stood for centuries. Pennistone Royal was not far away and in the past few months she had spent a lot of time in this particular area of Yorkshire which was softer and much more lush than the surrounding higher land. Up there, on the high-flung moors, it was grim and bleak for most of the year, neither pretty nor welcoming. She knew Linnet would not agree; she thought the soaring fells were glorious in their stark and solitary splendour.

‘I love those moors the same way Emma Harte loved them,’ Linnet had once explained to her. ‘My great-grandmother was a child of the moors, and she could never stay away from them for very long. I’m just like her. I yearn for them, as she did.’

Emma Harte.

Evan turned the name over in her mind. Dead though she had been for thirty years, Emma still lived on, her spirit and her presence almost as potent as it had been when she was alive. Emma Harte was her great-grandmother, too, although she had not known this when she had come to England in January. Just eight months ago now; how her life had changed since then. She was a Harte. And had been accepted by this unique family, made to feel one of them. She was still trying to come to grips with recent developments.

Almost immediately her thoughts swung to Robin Ainsley, favourite son of the legendary Emma: her father’s biological father, her biological grandfather; a man she had met only a few weeks ago, but whom she had quickly grown to like and knew she could easily come to love. There was something endearing about Robin, even vulnerable, and she wanted to nurture and protect him. At eighty he seemed so alone and lonely in old age.

Robin Ainsley had abandoned her grandmother during the Second World War, but he had had his reasons, and it was over half a century ago now. And if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that her grandmother had probably had a much better and certainly a more tranquil life without Robin. After all, they had been forever at each other’s throats, according to him. And Gran had a loving husband in Richard Hughes, who had married her some months before her baby, Owen, was born. Richard had brought up Owen as his son. He had been a good father; no man had ever had a better one, her father said that all the time.

Her father’s face insinuated itself into her mind’s eye, and she felt herself tensing. Yet again she wondered how to tell him what she had so recently found out? Owen had idolized Richard Hughes …

‘I’m so sorry to have left you alone,’ Robin murmured from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I’m afraid Dr Harvey can go on a bit at times.’

Evan jumped up and swung to face him. ‘You’re all right, aren’t you? You’re not ill?’ she asked. Her voice echoed with sudden concern, and her eyes were anxious.

‘I’m perfectly fine, my dear. In very good health, I do assure you. Dr Harvey was merely ringing up to confirm our dinner engagement tomorrow evening.’ As he finished speaking Robin stepped onto the terrace. ‘Let’s stay out here for a while, enjoy Mother Nature. It’s such a grand morning.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Evan agreed.

They sat down on the bench, and Robin went on, after a moment, ‘You said earlier that you needed to talk to me about several things, but so far we’ve only discussed my relationship with your grandmother. What else do you have on your mind?’

‘My father.’

‘Ah yes, Owen. Have you told him about me? Does he know anything about … Emma’s well-kept secret?’

‘No.’

‘Did you lose your nerve, Evan? Surely not. Not you.’

‘No, not really. But I did decide it might be better to wait until he arrives in London later this month.’

‘Don’t you think you ought to give him an inkling about what’s happened before he comes? About me, I mean? It would prepare him for what will no doubt be a bit of a shock.’

‘It did cross my mind,’ Evan responded, biting her lip, looking worried. ‘But then I decided it would be smarter to tell him face to face.’

Robin frowned, stared ahead, his light-coloured eyes fixed on the distant horizon. After a moment, he began to speak slowly, thoughtfully. ‘He’s not going to like what he hears. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were very angry. After all, some of his illusions are going to be shattered. He’ll certainly be angry with me about the past.’

‘And maybe he’ll also be angry with his mother for not being truthful,’ Evan suggested succinctly. ‘Gran lied to him.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that, my dear. Glynnis did the right thing. It was wiser not to tell him I was his father. Richard was married to Glynnis for some months before Owen’s birth, and whilst he may not have made her pregnant, he loved that child as his own. Richard’s behaviour was impeccable, and I think Glynnis did what she thought was best, you know.’

‘That’s true, but …’ She let her sentence go unfinished.

‘But what?’

‘My father’s not easy, Robin.’

A look of comprehension swept across his face and he exclaimed, ‘I remember something, Evan. When Paula brought you here for the first time you told us you thought your father had come across some papers after Glynnis died.’

‘I did. But he never actually said he found anything. It was just a feeling I had that sprang from his sudden, rather odd attitude towards the Harte family.’

‘Oh. What kind of attitude?’ Robin asked, his curiosity aroused.

‘He became a bit … well, down on them. I guess that’s the best way of describing it. He wasn’t happy about my job at Harte’s, and that was mystifying to me because he had agreed I should visit London to seek out Emma Harte … just as Gran had suggested on her deathbed.’

Robin ventured, ‘I think he stumbled on a diary, or letters, or other items from long ago, which Glynnis had perhaps forgotten about.’

‘That could be so,’ she agreed. ‘And what he found might have turned him off the Hartes. Is that what you’re suggesting?’

‘Yes, it is.’ There was a pause. ‘I wonder if it might not be wiser to let sleeping dogs lie, my dear? Why tell your father anything at all? He doesn’t need to know the truth about his paternity. Perhaps it would be more prudent to let it remain the secret it’s always been. Why not let him continue to think Richard Hughes was his biological father?’

‘That makes sense,’ Evan exclaimed, and instantly felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her chest.

Almost as if he instinctively knew what she was feeling, Robin put his arm around her, held her close to him. ‘We know the truth, and that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ was all she said, and she leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes, filled with relief.

They did not speak for a short while, lost as they were in their own thoughts. Evan was thinking about her boyfriend Gideon Harte, wondering how she would explain her sudden change of heart, yet knowing that whatever she decided to do he would back her to the hilt, would be on her side. Gideon had an understanding heart, and he was sensitive to her feelings about her father. In fact, he himself had suggested, only the other day, that maybe she would be better off not telling her father he was a Harte. She had been ambivalent; Gideon had then said he trusted her judgement and whatever she did ultimately would be all right by him.

As for Robin, his thoughts were centred on Evan Hughes. How glad he was that this young woman had come into his life. Very late in his life, that was true, but at least he had been fortunate to become aware of her existence. He had grown to know her over the past few weeks, and he liked what he had learned about her. Once before he had held her close like this, when she had comforted him, and he was glad to hold her again, to silently bond with her, and to comfort her.

The day she had arrived with Paula to meet him for the first time he had feasted his rheumy old eyes on her lovely face. He had noticed that she looked like his twin, Elizabeth, when she had been twenty-seven, as Evan was now. Evan. His granddaughter. His only grandchild. His blood flowed through her veins, and one day, if she married and had children, it would flow in their veins … she ensured the continuation of his bloodline, his genes. It had always been important to him, the flowering of a family, but before the arrival of Evan this had not seemed probable.

Instantly, Jonathan sprang into his mind and a chill settled over him. He could only pray that his son would never harm Evan. Certainly Robin had made absolutely sure that Jonathan really did understand that his inheritance was intact, and not jeopardized by the advent of Evan. In fact, he had gone to extraordinary lengths to prove this to his son, taking steps that involved both their solicitors and the execution of various documents, which were binding.

On the other hand, Jonathan was unpredictable. For a long time now he had considered his only child a loose cannon and, even worse, a sociopath. There was no way of knowing what he might do. Or when.

‘Are you all right?’ Evan asked, feeling Robin’s sudden tension.

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ the old man answered, forcing a smile. ‘But I must admit I do feel the cold even on a sunny day like this. Let’s go inside, Evan. I have something I wish to show you.’

Together they walked into the library, and Robin murmured, ‘Do sit down on the sofa, I won’t be a moment.’

She did as he said while he hurried to the desk. Her eyes followed him. What a fine-looking man he was; tall, erect, and handsome in old age, and today he was much more robust and full of vigour. This pleased her. She had only just found him, and he was already eighty … the thought of losing him dismayed her.

A moment later Robin was sitting down next to her and handing her a photograph, a snapshot taken a long time ago. Staring down at it she exclaimed, ‘It’s of you and my grandmother. My goodness, what a gorgeous couple you were! So good-looking.’

He laughed in delight at her compliment. ‘We did look wonderful together, you know, everyone remarked on that. As you can see, I’m wearing my RAF uniform and your grandmother is the height of fashion for the times, very much the glamour girl, as always. Well, anyway, it’s for you, Evan.’

‘Oh Robin, how lovely of you. But are you sure you want to part with it? You’ve had it for such a long time.’

‘Who better to give it to than – our granddaughter. I want you to have this picture of the two of us when we were young and in love and before things had gone so horribly wrong between us.’

She nodded, touched his arm affectionately. ‘I shall treasure it always.’

His blue eyes lit up and he smiled at her. ‘Now, will you take pity on an old man and stay for lunch?’

‘I’d love to,’ she said.

But as she walked to the dining room with Robin, Evan knew there was nothing but trouble in store. Her intuition told her that her father would be difficult, and that the situation would more than likely explode.

CHAPTER TWO

Tessa Fairley Longden stood on the terrace, watching her small daughter bustling around like the proverbial mother hen, placing Daisy her porcelain baby doll, Teddy the bear, and Reggi the rag doll in the chairs she and Adele had just arranged around the small tea-table.

Once the child was satisfied she looked up at her mother, and said, ‘Daisy is keeping Teddy company and I’ll sit next to my Reggi.’

‘That’s a good idea, Adele. I’m sure they’ll be happy wherever you’ve put them,’ Tessa answered, smiling down at the three-year-old, who was looking up at her questioningly.

As she spoke Tessa made a mental note to wrest the rag doll out of her daughter’s clutches as soon as possible. It was dirty and bedraggled, quite disgusting looking really, but the child loved it so much, clung to it, never let it out of her sight. Tessa had long realized it was like a security blanket to Adele, but it did need washing, by hand, of course, so that it would not fall apart. Tonight, she thought, I’ll wash it tonight if I can get it away from her.

She was enjoying being here in Yorkshire with Adele, her first bit of peace since leaving her husband, Mark Longden.

Bending down, Tessa smoothed her hand over her child’s silky, silvery-blonde hair, and murmured, ‘I’ll be in the library working, sweetheart, if you need me.’

Adele nodded, and said in a solemn voice, ‘At your computer, Mumma.’

‘That’s right.’ Tessa’s heart overflowed with love for this extraordinarily beautiful child, so precious to her, the one person she loved the most in this world. Leaning over her, she kissed the top of her head, lingering for a moment longer on the terrace; but after a second or two she finally drew herself up, took a deep breath and walked briskly into the library, sitting down at the table she had pulled over to the French windows.

It was Elvira’s day off, and the nanny had gone into Leeds, leaving Adele in her care. Tessa had toyed with the idea of taking Adele with her to the Harrogate store, but in the end she had changed her mind, had decided not to go after all. It was such a beautiful morning it seemed almost criminal to keep the child cooped up in an office; she could just as easily work here at Pennistone Royal on the plans for remodelling the Harrogate store, while Adele enjoyed the sunshine and the fresh air, playing outdoors on the long terrace at the back of the house.

Tessa had decided long ago that the library was the ideal place for her to work when she was here at Pennistone Royal. It was a long, spacious, airy room with a high-flung ceiling and walls panelled in light-coloured pine. Tranquil, a peaceful spot, it was well insulated with its many floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound books.

Earlier this morning she had set herself up at the far end of the library, near the French windows. These opened onto the terrace where Adele could play happily until lunchtime. Tessa had pulled the library table over to the glass doors, creating a makeshift desk out of it. Adele was now in her direct line of vision; she could even hear the child chattering away to the teddy bear. Apart from being able to keep an eye on her daughter, she was readily available if the child needed her for any reason.

Tessa worked steadily at her computer for the next twenty minutes, glancing up from time to time, smiling to herself, thinking of how well Adele played alone, treating her dolls and the bear like real playmates, talking to them in the most natural way, as if they were alive.

Adele was a clever, inventive and imaginative little girl, and she could already read simple books even though she was not yet four. Tessa had come to understand that her daughter enjoyed learning new things, and she was extremely intelligent for her age, and in some ways rather precocious, at least when it came to learning. Not precocious in an irritating way, like some children were; Adele was sweet by nature, and a rather endearing child with her fey and somewhat whimsical traits and mannerisms.

Unexpectedly, Adele turned around and saw Tessa staring at her through the open glass doors, and she laughed, waved to her mother.

Tessa waved back before returning to her work. She concentrated hard, trying to pull together all of her ideas for the much-needed changes at the Harrogate store. This was her special project at the moment; her half-sister Linnet and her cousin India had been given the task of creating a new look for the Leeds store, along with Evan Hughes. Harte’s were revamping everywhere.

The loud ringing of the phone brought Tessa’s head up with a start. When it continued to shrill she wondered why no one was picking it up, and then remembered she was alone in the house at the moment. Elvira had already left for Leeds; Margaret had gone to do the marketing in Ripon, and she had seen Evan Hughes drive off well over an hour ago. As for Emsie and Desmond, her O’Neill sister and brother were off riding on the moors.

Jumping up, Tessa hurried across to the Georgian desk next to the sofa, and grabbed the phone. ‘Pennistone Royal. Hello?’ There was a great deal of static, and faintly, far away in the distance she heard a man’s voice saying, ‘Tessa –. Is Tess –’ and then the voice faded out completely.

It’s Toby, she thought; my cousin’s calling me from LA. Holding the receiver tighter, she exclaimed, ‘This is Tessa Longden! Who is it?’ Much to her annoyance, the phone now went completely dead. She listened for a moment, said hello several times and then hung up in exasperation.

She had barely taken a few steps towards the makeshift desk when the phone began to ring once more. Snatching the receiver from the cradle, she said in a distinct tone, ‘This is Tessa Longden. Who’s calling?’ There was no response, no voice at all, only static and sounds like lapping waves. ‘Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you! Who’s calling?’

Her frustration echoed in her voice; she was positive it was her cousin, who had gone to Los Angeles to see his wife. He had promised to be in touch and no doubt this was Toby. On his mobile. The connection suddenly cut off, and with an impatient shrug she banged down the phone and headed back to her computer. No sooner had she turned away from the phone than its insistent shrilling brought her back to it, and she answered for a third time. ‘This is Tessa. Who is it?’

‘Tess –’ The voice broke up before the completion of her name, and then she was hearing only static and half a word here and there. She said ‘Hello’ several times, but whoever it was at the other end was not making himself understood.

She stood there with the phone glued to her ear for a few more minutes, and then with great irritation she hung up, mildly cursing Toby under her breath. Why use his mobile? Couldn’t he have picked up a land line?

It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Toby had tried to reach her at the London store first, and so she dialled her new assistant’s private line. It was answered immediately.

‘It’s me, Patsy,’ she said at once. ‘I think Toby Harte might be trying to get hold of me. From the States. Using his mobile. But it’s not working, he keeps breaking up. Have you heard from him this morning? Has he been trying to get me?’

‘No, he hasn’t,’ Patsy answered. ‘In fact, you’ve had very few phone calls so far today. Only Jess Lister about a dress you ordered. It’s ready. She’s bringing it over. And Anita Moore. She called to say she wants to come in and see you, show you her new line of cosmetics and body products. I said you’d be in touch with her early next week.’

‘Good. Well, look, if Toby does ring me from the States please ask him to phone me on a land line. I’ll be here at Pennistone Royal all day, and this evening, too. I’m not going out. That’ll be much easier.’

‘I’ll tell him. Talk to you later, Tessa.’

Tessa walked back to the library table and automatically glanced out at the terrace before resuming her work. And she caught her breath in surprise. Adele was no longer sitting at the tea-table.

Oh God, where is she? Tessa rushed through the French windows and out onto the terrace, looking up and down. Her daughter was nowhere in sight. And yet she was not in the habit of wandering off. Adele was an obedient child.

Instantly her hackles rose and alarm shot through her. She swung around, glanced down at the tea-table as if seeking a clue, and immediately noticed that the rag doll was missing.

Where had Adele gone? Down to the old oak, perhaps? As this thought flew into her head Tessa ran over to the stone balustrade and looked out towards the dell at the bottom of the sloping lawns. Here an ancient oak spread its wide branches over a garden seat where Adele often went to play. But there was no sign of her there today.

How did she manage to get down the steps? Tessa now asked herself, and her alarm intensified as she raced along the terrace to the flight of steps. She dreaded what she might find; she fully expected to see her three-year-old child crumpled in a heap at the bottom of them. But Adele was not there either.

Panic spiralled into genuine fear as Tessa struck out towards the front façade of the house, looking around as she did, her face tense, her eyes filled with anxiety.

The driveway was deserted. There wasn’t a soul in sight, not even the gardeners or the stable boys. It was ominously quiet, as if everyone had disappeared and she was the only person left there.

When she reached the heavy front door Tessa stood for a moment, frowning. The door was ajar and this surprised her. It was always locked for security reasons. Puzzled, she pushed the door open and went inside; her only concern was to find her child.

‘Adele! Adele!’ she called out in her loudest voice, walking forward quickly. ‘Are you here, sweetheart?’

No one answered.

No child came running to her on plump little legs, calling her name.

There was only the sound of Tessa’s voice echoing back to her through the great Stone Hall. It struck her then that Adele might have gone to the kitchen looking for Margaret, wanting her favourite Cadbury’s chocolate fingers for the dolls’ tea party. Rushing down the corridor, she went into the kitchen. It, too, was deserted. Disappointment hit her in the face. Her heart sank and dismay lodged in the pit of her stomach. Unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes and she leaned against the door jamb for a split second, endeavouring to gather her swimming senses as she tried to imagine where the three-year-old could be. Where?

Taking a deep breath, Tessa swung out of the kitchen and made her way back to the front of the house, walked outside onto the gravel driveway, again looking around. And asking herself where she should begin to search for Adele. It now seemed obvious that her little girl had wandered off into the other garden, and Tessa suddenly understood that she would need Wiggs and his two assistants to start looking for her. And possibly the stable lads as well. The grounds at Pennistone Royal were vast and covered a wide area, and there were several dense woods beyond the fields and meadows.

‘Miss Tessa! Miss Tessa!’

At the sound of the head gardener’s voice, Tessa spun around. Wiggs was hurrying towards her and she saw that he had the rag doll in his hands.

She ran to meet him, exclaiming, ‘Where did you find the doll?’

The gardener came to a standstill and handed it to her. ‘Just around the bend in the drive.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Yer knows that bend, Miss Tessa, it’s just afore the house comes in ter sight.’

Clutching the rag doll to her, Tessa said shakily, ‘I can’t find Adele, Wiggs. She’s suddenly gone missing, and I don’t understand what she was doing out here. We must start looking for her in the grounds.’

Wiggs gaped at her. ‘I thought she must’ve dropped the doll before she got in ter the car,’ he said, frowning, his face puzzled.

‘What car?’ Tessa cried, her eyes opening wider, flaring with apprehension. ‘There was a car here?’ Her voice was unusually shrill and she gripped the gardener’s arm.

‘Yes. I heard the screech of tyres as it drove off. Almost run over one of the ponies, it did that, and two of the stable lads ran after it, shouting at the driver, telling him to stop. But he didn’t.’

All of the colour had drained out of Tessa’s face and she thought her legs would buckle under her as small ripples of shock ran through her body. Mark. It had to be Mark. Yes. Oh, God, yes. He had snatched their child. She snapped her eyes tightly shut, trembling inside, and brought one hand to her face, overcome by rising panic.

‘You’d best go inside, Miss Tessa, and sit down for a bit,’ Wiggs was saying to her. ‘You look right poorly.’

And as Tessa opened her eyes and took a deep breath, she heard the clatter of horses’ hooves in the distance and turned around swiftly.

Wiggs glanced behind him, and muttered, ‘That must be Emsie and Desmond coming back from their ride.’

‘Yes, it must,’ she agreed, and she thought her voice sounded peculiar, oddly strangled in her throat. She was on the verge of tears again. Turning to Wiggs, blinking them back, she managed to ask, ‘That car, Wiggs. What was it like? Did you see the driver? Was it Mr Longden, do you think?’

Wiggs shook his head. ‘Didn’t see the driver’s face. But it was a man. Aye, it was. Car was black. A Mercedes … I think.’ He nodded and his expression was suddenly confident. ‘Aye, it was a Mercedes, Miss Tessa.’

At this moment Emsie and Desmond came around the bend, their horses walking at a slow pace. Emsie waved and called out cheerily, ‘Tessa! Hello.’

Desmond also waved and his handsome young face was full of smiles.

Tessa raised her arm, beckoned to them to come over, then she changed her mind and ran towards them, Wiggs following in her wake.

Desmond, mounted on a superb black stallion, looked down at his eldest sister. Staring at her face, which was as white as her cotton shirt, noting her terrible strained expression, he asked, almost sharply, ‘What’s the matter, Tess?’

‘It’s Adele,’ she began and shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I can’t find her. She’s vanished. Into thin air.’ Her voice was shaking and she stopped abruptly, turned to look at Wiggs. ‘But she could have been taken from here.’

He had known her since she was a child, and he understood immediately what she wanted him to do. He had to explain. ‘It’s like this, Desmond,’ Wiggs said. ‘There was a car here. I don’t know who was in it. But it drove off hell for leather, almost collided with a pony that’d strayed on ter the drive. Two of the stable lads ran after the car, shouting, but the driver paid them no mind, didn’t stop. Just shot out of them there front gates like a bat out of hell. I was walking up the drive … when I spotted Adele’s rag doll.’ He nodded and finished, ‘I thought Adele must’ve dropped it when she got in the car. Not that I’m sure she did that, yer knows. But it seems likely.’

‘But you didn’t actually see Adele in the car?’ Desmond asked.

‘No.’ Wiggs shook his head. ‘Still, what with the doll being there on the ground, well, I mean, I just thought she’d gone off in the car.’

Tessa took a deep breath, said in a worried voice, ‘Wiggs, please arrange for the grounds to be searched, and talk to Joe. He might know who was in the car. Maybe they’d been to see him about something – to do with the estate.’

‘I’ll get a search going, Miss Tessa, but there’s no way I can talk ter Joe. He’s gone ter East Witton. And I don’t think he’s coming back. Not just yet. But nobody coming ter see Joe would drive like that, not with all the notices we’ve got posted, warning everyone ter go slow because of the horses. No, whoever was in that black car, well, them there folk were proper strangers, not from these parts. Locals don’t go speeding around in cars when there’s horses all over the place.’

‘I agree,’ Desmond said. He dismounted, went to Tessa, put his arm around her shoulders, wanting to comfort her. He was as concerned about her as he was about the situation. And what ought they to do, aside from searching the grounds?

Emsie followed suit, expertly jumping down from her horse. Turning to Wiggs, she said, ‘Would you mind taking the horses to the stables, please? We’ll be there in a few minutes, Wiggs, to rub them down.’

‘Acourse I’ll tek ’em back, Emsie,’ he replied, accepting the reins from her, reaching for Desmond’s horse. ‘But the stable lads’ll look after ’em. You should both be with Tessa.’

Emsie smiled at him, a faltering smile, and he noticed that her face was as white as her half-sister’s. She looked frightened, as well. He patted the seventeen-year-old’s shoulder. ‘Try not to worry, lass. If she’s around here, we’ll find Adele.’

‘I hope she is just lost,’ Emsie murmured, biting her lip. ‘I hope that’s all it is.’

Wiggs hurried away with the horses, thinking that Mark Longden had most likely grabbed the child. The whole staff knew all about the upcoming divorce; there was a good bit of gossip about Longden. None of them liked him. He was the child’s father. Surely he wouldn’t harm her. But Longden was a bit of a bugger, so he’d heard. A boozer. Also on drugs. And a wife-beater. A man who struck a woman was a coward, a bully and a thug in his opinion.

Desmond and his sisters went into the house, and as they hurried through into the Stone Hall, he took hold of Tessa’s arm, and said, ‘Shall I get you a brandy? You look as if you’re about to pass out.’

‘No, thanks, Des. A cup of tea and an aspirin is what I want. I have a splitting headache. Let’s go to the kitchen.’

He nodded, and he and Emsie followed Tessa across the Stone Hall and down the corridor. Once inside the kitchen it was Emsie who filled the electric kettle with water, plugged it in, then found the brown teapot and three mugs in the cupboard.

Desmond and Tessa seated themselves at the round table in the bay window, and Desmond took hold of Tessa’s hand, hoping to reassure her. He started to speak but stopped, noting the preoccupied look on her face. He had always been sensitive to her moods, and he understood that at this moment she was trying to think things through.

At fifteen Desmond O’Neill was mature for his age, and looked older than his years. He was tall, over six feet, and powerfully built, a strapping young man with his father’s height, broad chest and wide shoulders; he also had Shane’s glamorous good looks. Hair and eyes the colour of jet stamped him Black Irish, and those in the know said that he was the spitting image of his great-grandfather Blackie O’Neill, long since dead, but well-remembered by many of the locals, friends and certain members of the three clans.

No one spoke. Emsie was busy making the tea, and Desmond was waiting for Tessa to relax, to say something. Only when Adele was found would his sister be at ease. She was a doting mother.

Tessa’s mind was racing, and she felt sick, anxiety-ridden for her child. She did not know what to do at this moment. How could she just sit and wait until Wiggs and the others searched the estate? That could take ages. And wasn’t time of the essence? If Adele was lost she would soon become frightened, and she might have an accident, could easily hurt herself. She wondered if she should go and join in the hunt for Adele? Could she have been grabbed by Mark? Did he have her? Or was Jonathan Ainsley behind this? She instantly pushed that thought to one side. The idea of Jonathan Ainsley being involved frightened her. If Mark did have their daughter, wouldn’t he call Pennistone Royal to speak to her? Certainly he would never hurt Adele, he adored the child. But he wasn’t himself these days, was he? Tessa shivered involuntarily.

Desmond noticed this, and said swiftly, in his most reassuring tone, ‘I’m sure she was in that car, Tess. Wiggs might not have noticed. I don’t think Adele is here, on the estate, lost somewhere, because Emsie and I would have spotted her on our way back. The only way to get to the fields is down the lane.’

Tessa did not respond.

Desmond remained silent himself, knowing Tessa in the way he did. Although his half-sister had a reputation in the family for being difficult, bossy and a snob, he knew another, very different side of her. He loved Tessa, and she loved him, and they had always been good friends; she wasn’t really the ogre some of the family made her out to be. At least not in his eyes.

Rousing herself from her thoughts, Tessa suddenly said, ‘I can’t help thinking as you do she probably was in that car, Des. You’re right. And she’s so little, she couldn’t have got very far.’

‘Who would take her without telling you –’ he cut himself off. His eyes met hers. ‘Mark Longden. Of course! You think he’s got her, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So do I. That’s the answer.’

Emsie carried the tray of mugs and the teapot over to the table and as she put it down she said, ‘There’s no one else to point a finger at. He might be trying to get his own back because of your nasty divorce, or to make trouble, hurt you.’

‘Unless someone else has –’ Desmond paused, took a deep breath, and finished, ‘kidnapped her. For a ransom. This family’s always been the perfect target for something like that.’

‘I’ve considered the same thing. A kidnapping.’ Tessa closed her eyes once more and sat very still, trying to control her trembling. ‘That’s why I’ve got to be here, near the phone.’

She was so white and her tension was so marked Desmond was convinced she was about to faint at any moment. He wished Linnet were here, she’d know what to do. But would Tessa listen to her? They were often at loggerheads.

Emsie looked across at her brother and her eyes caught his as she poured tea into his mug. These two had always been perfectly in tune with each other. At seventeen she was two years older than Desmond, yet it was he who was protective of her; they loved each other and were best friends. Like Desmond, Emsie was obviously Black Irish. She had inherited the striking O’Neill colouring – glossy dark hair and eyes as black and shiny as coal.

Silently, she mouthed, ‘Linnet. We need Linnet.’

Desmond nodded, looked across at Tessa, waiting.

Despite her fragile appearance and her delicate beauty, Tessa Fairley Longden had a great deal of inner strength and an enormous amount of resilience. As she often said, she was not Emma Harte’s great-granddaughter for nothing; there was a certain toughness about her and she had a fair amount of determination.

Pulling herself together finally, she opened her eyes and sat up a little straighter in the chair. ‘Thanks for the tea, Emsie,’ she murmured and took a long swallow of the brew. After a moment’s thought, she glanced at the wall clock, continued, ‘It’s almost eleven here. Six o’clock in the morning in New York. No use phoning Mummy and Shane –’

Emsie cut in somewhat peremptorily: ‘They’ll still be asleep. What about talking to your solicitor?’

‘No, no!’ Tessa exclaimed, and gave Emsie a hard stare. ‘You know very well what the family rules are. We deal with everything ourselves, for as long as possible, and with the help of the other clans if necessary. But no outsiders can be involved. Unless we have no other choice.’

‘You ought to call Linnet immediately,’ Desmond suggested, glancing quickly at Emsie, hoping Tessa wouldn’t bite his head off. The strained relationship between his sisters often presented problems. Both wanted to run Harte’s one day. But Linnet was the smartest in the family, other than his parents; he believed she was the best person to take charge in the absence of their mother and father.

Surprisingly, Tessa was not upset by his suggestion. Jumping up, she hurried over to the phone on the counter. ‘I think I’d better do that, Desmond. Right away.’

Tessa was aware that Linnet had planned to come up to Pennistone Royal either today or tomorrow, and so instead of ringing Harte’s in London she dialled her sister on her mobile; Linnet was probably on the road already, driving to Yorkshire. It was answered almost at once with a crisp, ‘Linnet O’Neill.’

‘It’s Tessa. I’ve got a problem here.’

‘At the Harrogate store?’ Linnet sounded surprised.

‘No. At home. At Pennistone Royal.’

‘A problem there! What’s happened?’

‘It’s Adele. She’s vanished. I can’t find her, and I’m frantic. I think it could be Mark’s doing.’ Tessa’s voice trembled and she swallowed hard.

‘If you think it’s Mark then it is,’ Linnet exclaimed. ‘Stay calm, I’m about an hour away. Don’t call the police yet. We can deal with this ourselves.’

‘I know the rules. Listen, Desmond thinks it could be a genuine kidnapping. For a ransom.’

‘Oh my God! Let’s hope not. Tell me exactly what happened.’

Tessa did as her sister asked.

When Tessa finished, Linnet said, ‘The phone calls were to distract you. It’s Mark who’s behind this, I’m absolutely positive. You’re right about that. Still, I’m glad Wiggs is searching the grounds. She could have strayed away from the house, but she couldn’t have gone far. Who’s there with you?’

‘Just Desmond and Emsie. It’s Elvira’s day off, and Margaret went out shopping. And Joe’s gone to East Witton.’

‘Desmond’s pretty reliable and responsible. So is Emsie. I’m glad they’re there. Where’s Evan?’

‘I don’t know. I saw her drive off several hours ago.’

‘I’m sure she’ll soon return. Now, stay there by the phone and if Mark calls tell him to bring Adele back immediately. Be firm with him but civil. Try not to have a row.’

‘What if he wants to bargain with me? What if he wants something?’

‘Promise him anything. Just get that child back in your arms. Mark can be dealt with later.’

‘All right. But what if it’s not Mark? What if it really is a kidnapping, and they call, making demands?’

‘Listen to them. Agree to their demands, but explain it’s going to take you a while to get money together. Because I’m sure they’ll be asking for money … that’s what most kidnappings are about.’

‘I understand.’

‘Tessa?’

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to Adele.’

‘But –’

‘I promise,’ Linnet cut in. ‘Don’t go into the grounds. You must be there to answer the phone. See you soon.’ With that she clicked off her mobile.

As soon as she saw a lay-by Linnet O’Neill pulled over and parked. She sat for a moment thinking about her sister’s phone call and Adele’s disappearance. She was filled with dismay, and extremely angry. I always knew that bastard wouldn’t go quietly, she thought, her mind zeroing in on Mark Longden. She had never liked him, had always believed him to be avaricious, ambitious, self-promoting. Years ago she had characterized him as a gold-digger who was after Tessa’s money, not to mention her prestige as a Harte; she had never quite understood why such a beautiful and clever young woman as her sister had married him. And he wasn’t a very good architect in her opinion, whatever others thought.

Their mother had told her recently that Mark Longden had physically and mentally abused Tessa, and much to her astonishment she had discovered she hadn’t been in the least bit surprised. She had always been aware that underneath his smarmy, phoney charm he was a nasty piece of work.

Linnet sat thinking about Adele’s sudden disappearance, and she realized she did not believe for one moment that the child had been kidnapped by strangers for ransom. She felt, deep within herself, that it was Mark Longden who had snatched his own child. Her gut instinct told her that it was a form of blackmail. He wanted something from the Hartes, and he was using his little daughter as a bargaining tool. The bastard, she muttered again, and cursed him under her breath.

‘“Everybody has a price and it isn’t always money,” that’s what Emma used to say to me,’ her mother had once told her, and Linnet had never forgotten those words. They were absolutely true. When it came right down to it, everybody had some kind of vulnerability, something they wanted to protect at any price, and very often money never came into play at all. There were other currencies for dealing.

From remarks her mother had made recently, Linnet knew that Mark Longden was not only drinking very heavily these days, but was also on drugs. It had troubled her then; it was certainly more worrying now. A man under the influence could easily become irresponsible, even erratic, and quite possibly violent – and therefore dangerous. She was fairly certain that Mark wouldn’t intentionally hurt his only child. But what if something went wrong with him, or others, and in the process Adele got hurt, albeit inadvertently?

It suddenly struck Linnet that thoughts of a similar nature must have occurred to Tessa. Never before had she heard her sister sound so vulnerable, nervous, and at such a loss about what to do than she had a few minutes ago. It seemed to her that the child’s abduction, because that was what it was, had rendered Tessa helpless.

Normally Tessa was a take-charge person who wanted to be top dog, so that she could run everything and boss everyone around. And very often, because of Tessa’s ambition to be their mother’s heir-apparent, the Dauphine as she called herself, Tessa and she had locked horns. But there was a family rule that went all the way back to Emma Harte and her brothers, and it had never been broken. No matter what the circumstances, a Harte was always loyal to a Harte. They had been brought up to stand strong and steady together in a fight, to defend each other against the world. To kill for each other, to take the bullet for each other, if necessary. Linnet knew all the Harte rules by heart and lived by them.

The child was Tessa’s vulnerable spot; Linnet was well aware of her sister’s deep and unwavering love for her child. The entire family loved Adele. The three-year-old girl was like a Botticelli angel, with her silver-gilt hair, silvery-grey eyes, and her exquisite little face. Beautiful and endearing, with genuine sweetness, she had touched them all in different ways. Linnet thought of Adele as one of those rare golden children, unique, almost spiritual. God forbid anything happened to her.

How to solve this dilemma? What to do? Linnet asked herself. And where to begin? Start driving for one thing, she decided, rousing herself from her myriad thoughts, releasing the brake and slowly pulling out onto the motorway.

Linnet knew she had to handle this. The very fact that Tessa had turned to her made her truly understand that her sister accepted that she herself was far too emotional to cope with the situation. I’ve got to deal with it fast, Linnet thought. Very fast. Today. It can’t be allowed to drag on. I’ve got to find Mark. Find that child. Immediately. Before anything goes wrong.

There really was only her. Her parents were in New York with Aunt Emily and Uncle Winston, which meant the four senior and most powerful members of the Harte family were out of action for the moment.

Gideon Harte? She thought of her cousin, her best friend, for a moment. He could be extremely helpful. He ran the Harte newspapers, was brilliant and street-wise, and he had every kind of resource at his disposal. Owning and running an international newspaper chain spelled one thing. Power. Immense power. Yes, she might have to pull Gideon into this, but right now what she really needed was an expert. A genuine professional. A policeman who wasn’t actually a policeman.

Jack Figg.

The name leapt into her mind at once. Harte’s security adviser, he was considered a member of the family. She had known him since childhood, thought of him as a pal. And so the moment she saw another lay-by ahead, Linnet pulled in and parked. Reaching for her hold-all, she groped around in it for her address book, and quickly found his name.

A few seconds later she was dialling Jack’s mobile number.

‘Figg here,’ he answered almost at once.

‘It’s Linnet, Jack.’

‘Hello, Beauty. What do you need?’

‘You, Jack. Please.’

‘I’m yours,’ he laughed, ‘anytime you want me.’

‘Remember what you said at Shane’s birthday party in June – that I could count on you in an emergency?’

‘I do. And you can.’

‘Thanks, Jack. There’s an emergency.’

‘Tell me everything I need to know.’

She did so, and gave him her own thoughts about what had happened.

‘The phone calls were meant to distract her, keep her busy. Where are you now, Linnet?’

‘Parked in a lay-by, about an hour away from Pennistone Royal. Are you in Robin Hood’s Bay?’

‘No, I’m outside York Minster with a friend. If I leave York now I’ll probably arrive at the house the same time as you. I’ll meet you there. But please tell Tessa you’ve asked me to help. Just in case I arrive before you.’

‘I will. And thanks, Jack.’

‘Anything for you, Beauty.’

He was gone, and she was back on the motorway, picking up speed as she gunned the car forward, streaking along the empty road. There was hardly any traffic at the moment, and that was something in her favour at least.

Linnet concentrated on driving for the next twenty minutes or so, and then, slowing down, she phoned Tessa at Pennistone Royal. Her sister said there was nothing new, and no sign of Adele. Wiggs and his search party were still looking. Linnet told her about Jack Figg, and his imminent arrival, and fortunately met no resistance from Tessa.

A few seconds later she punched in Evan’s mobile number, but it was turned off. No doubt Evan was with Uncle Robin, whom she had been wanting to talk to for several weeks. Linnet thought suddenly of her cousin India Standish. India had gone up to Leeds from London very early that morning, to start working on plans for revamping the store. Linnet was close to her cousin. In fact everyone in the family loved India. She had an understanding heart, was kind, with a loving nature. Many thought she was delicate, even frail, but her elegant aristocratic looks inherited from the Fairleys belied her character.

Linnet knew she was practical, down to earth, strong physically, and that, like their great-grandmother Emma Harte, she was absolutely fearless. India worked with her in the fashion department of Harte’s in London, and they had been close friends since childhood. India had grown up on her father’s estate Clonloughlin in Ireland, but she had spent every summer at Pennistone Royal. And Linnet loved to boast of some of India’s brave deeds as a child … like the time she rushed out into the backyard at Pennistone Royal wearing huge oven gloves in order to separate two dogs fighting over the dead body of a rabbit. Or the day Linnet’s little sister Emsie had climbed into the big oak and got stuck in the upper branches. Undeterred by Linnet’s warning that they would both fall out of the tree, India had climbed up it, had sat with Emsie, stopped her wailing and held her tightly until Linnet had come back with Joe, the estate-manager, carrying a tall orchard ladder.

Yes, Linnet decided, India would be helpful in this situation, and she got on well with the sometimes difficult Tessa.

India would be staying at Pennistone Royal for the next few days, as she usually did. I’d better warn her about the situation there, Linnet thought, tell her what’s happened, before she goes over there later. She dialled her cousin, and waited patiently as the mobile rang and rang.

CHAPTER THREE

‘That’s your phone ringing, not mine,’ Russell ‘Dusty’ Rhodes said, looking across at India, who stood next to the window.

She frowned, glancing around the bedroom, exclaiming, ‘Heavens, where’s my bag?’

‘Over there, on the chair. Under your dress.’

‘Oh gosh, yes, you’re right.’ As she spoke she ran to the chair, clutching the towel around her body; with her other hand she grabbed the bag, groped inside for the ringing mobile phone, turned it on, held it to her ear. ‘Hello?’

‘India?’

‘Hi Linnet.’

‘Where are you? At the Leeds store already?’

‘No. I stopped in for a few minutes, then went to … lunch.’

Dusty grinned at her from the other side of the room and began to laugh.

She glared at him and silently mouthed, ‘Be quiet.’

Linnet said, ‘India, there’s a problem. Adele’s disappeared. Several hours ago, and Tessa’s frantic.’

‘Oh my God!’ Alarm registered in India’s eyes and she sat down heavily in the chair, concentrating on the phone call.

‘She could be lost in the grounds, might have just wandered off,’ Linnet went on, ‘but somehow I doubt that. Personally, I think Mark Longden snatched her, and so does Tessa.’

‘Yes, I agree. But surely he wouldn’t hurt her –’

‘True,’ Linnet interrupted, ‘but things sometimes do go wrong, so we’ve got to find her before anything untoward does happen. I’ve brought Jack Figg in to help, and there’s a search party looking for her at Pennistone Royal. I should be there myself in half an hour.’

‘Perhaps I’d better come too.’

‘You might as well finish lunch, India. There’s not a lot you can do except be there for Tessa. Obviously, she’s very upset.’

‘I can well imagine.’ There was a slight hesitation on India’s part, and then she asked worriedly, ‘You don’t think Jonathan Ainsley has anything to do with this, do you?’

‘I sincerely hope not, but if he does it really changes the picture.’

‘Yes, you’re right. But what do you –’

‘Let’s not go there, India. At least not yet. I’ll see you later.’

‘I’ll leave shortly.’ India clicked off the phone and put it back in her bag. Her face was paler than ever, her eyes anxious.

‘What’s happened?’ Dusty asked, sitting up straighter in the bed, looking at her alertly. ‘You sounded frightened. No, not frightened, you’re not frightened of anything, are you? Concerned is possibly a better word. Or alarmed.’

India stared back at him, nodding. ‘I am a bit alarmed, yes. Adele, Tessa’s little girl, has vanished and Linnet says it could be Mark Longden’s doing.’

‘That’s bad. What do you think?’

‘I tend to agree. Mark’s not very nice, and it’s more than likely he took her.’

‘She’s not lost somewhere on that vast estate perhaps?’

‘It’s possible, I suppose. But I think she would’ve been found by now. She’s still a toddler. How far could she get? Linnet says it’s several hours since she went missing, and there’s a search party out.’

‘Why would he take her? Stupid question, Rhodes,’ he answered himself, shaking his head. ‘As a weapon in the divorce … he’s using her against your cousin, using her in order to manipulate Tessa.’ He ran a hand through his black wavy hair and a look of contempt crossed his face. ‘People. What shits they are, how they disgust me. He’s a real bastard if he’s using his child in that way.’

India sighed, stood up, reached for her clothes.

‘You can be there in less than an hour, so come back to bed.’ Dusty’s voice was lower, suddenly tender, and he smiled at her seductively. She noticed yet again how white his teeth were against the tan of his face. ‘Come back to bed with me, let’s do it all again,’ he insisted.

India shook her head. ‘I do think I have to go, Dusty,’ she answered, but regret registered on her face.

He could not fail to miss that expression, knew at once that she wanted to stay. He saw the desire in her eyes, the look of yearning. He threw back the sheets and got out of bed, walked towards her purposefully, still smiling that beguiling smile of his.

India thought his blue eyes looked suddenly dangerous, almost predatory. Her stomach lurched and she felt weak; he always managed to make her feel this way at some point or other when they were together … shaking inside … swooning … trembling. She was always his willing partner in anything he wanted to do with her … sexually aroused by a mere glance from him, the touch of his hand.

As he drew close she thought how impossibly good-looking he was, almost absurdly handsome. It was as if a sculptor had spent endless hours shaping most of his face: straight, patrician nose, broad forehead, high cheekbones, perfectly rounded chin. And elegantly arched brows above those dazzlingly-blue eyes that became soulful with passion, could turn icy cold in anger. He did not have one of those pretty-boy, matinée-idol faces; it was ruggedly handsome, with sharp angles and planes, as if the sculptor had suddenly wanted to finish quickly and had become slapdash.

His face matched his body. He had a solid torso – broad chest, wide shoulders above slender hips. About five feet eleven, he gave the impression of greater height and strength because of his powerful build. From the moment she had met him she had been aware of his potency and masculinity. No other man had ever affected her the way he did.

Now he was standing in front of her, the smile still lingering on his mouth. He pulled her into his arms and held her close to his body; the towel and her clothes fell from her hands onto the floor in a heap, and her arms went around his shoulders. And as he bent his head towards her his mouth found hers. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and she felt his erection against her thigh, and for a moment she thought she would succumb, become an all-too-willing partner in his bed for a second time that day. And she clung to him, dissolving.

But then the brainwashing of years kicked in and she remembered the Harte rules and she knew she had to go to Pennistone Royal. Whatever her physical desires and needs were, no matter how much she wanted this man, her upbringing overrode everything else. A Harte was in trouble, and every other Harte must stand alongside, to defend their rights.

When they finally stopped their kisses, India gently pushed Dusty away, her hands resting on his chest. For a moment he resisted, and then quite suddenly he stepped back with an abrupt movement, looked into her face, his own questioning.

‘You know the rules,’ she murmured. ‘I told you about them ages ago.’

‘A Harte always goes to the aid of a Harte in trouble!’ he exclaimed. ‘You don’t have to embellish. I got it then, I get it now.’

‘Please don’t be angry.’

‘I’m not,’ he snapped, turning away, walking over to the window, where he stood looking out, his stance rigid, his face a mask of discontent.

Without another word she collected her clothes, went into the bathroom, tidied herself up, slipped into her bra and panties, pulled a black linen dress over her head, then slid her feet into high-heeled, black leather mules.

When she returned to the bedroom he was still standing at the window looking out, but he had quickly dressed, was wearing his jeans and a white t-shirt.

At the sound of her heels clicking on the parquet floor he swung to face her. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, and for once he looked shame-faced.

India walked over to him, touched his cheek gently. ‘I want to stay, to be with you, you know that, and you also know how I feel about you. This sense of duty to the family is something I can’t help.’ She shrugged and finished, ‘I suppose it’s just … ingrained in me.’

He caught her hand in his, brought it to his mouth, kissed it. ‘I know. And I’m a belligerent sod at times.’ He laughed his deep-throated laugh. ‘Most of the time, wouldn’t you say? Okay, I’ll let you go.’ He led her towards the door. ‘On one condition.’

She caught the lightness in his tone, saw the sudden mischievous laughter in those amazing eyes. ‘I agree to any condition,’ she said, ‘as long as it’s a condition involving you.’

‘You’ll regret saying that when you know what it is.’ He hurried her out of the bedroom and down the grand staircase.

‘Will I really?’ she asked, her expression suddenly flirtatious. ‘So, tell me what it is, then.’

‘You have to sit for me.’ He stopped on the stairs, turned to look at her.

India gaped at him, her jaw dropping. ‘You want me to sit for you? You want to paint me? Me?’ She was flabbergasted.

He saw that he had startled her, and realized that her amazement was genuine, and for a moment or two he was baffled by this. They had paused in the middle of the staircase, were standing just underneath the domed glass ceiling. Light was streaming in, turning her hair into a silver halo and her silvery-grey eyes seemed to be lit from within. In contrast, her face was sensual, her mouth ripe and bruised. He caught his breath, wishing he could start painting right away. His fingers tingled.

She said quickly, ‘You’re staring at me, and you have the most peculiar look on your face.’ Her hand came up to smooth her hair; suddenly, she felt ungroomed, self-conscious about her appearance. ‘I know I look a mess.’

He took her face between his hands and gazed deeply into her beautiful, transparent eyes. ‘I wish I could start painting you right now, capture you the way you look at this moment. So vulnerable and open, the sensuality still lingering. You look like a woman who has just been well and truly bedded.’

‘I was.’

‘You’ll do it then? You’ll sit for me?’

‘If you really want me to, Dusty.’

He smiled and reached out, took hold of her fingers, and they went on down the stairs hand in hand. When they got to the bottom Dusty paused, gave her a long, thoughtful look. ‘How will you explain it?’

India frowned in puzzlement, returned his steady gaze with one that was slightly surprised. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘How will you explain the painting to your father?’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Dusty.’

He peered at her more closely, wondering if she was being dense or perhaps even kidding him. And then he suddenly understood she was neither. Very simply, she just didn’t get it. He shook his head and began to laugh softly. After a moment, he explained, ‘Every one of my paintings is exhibited, even the portraits for private clients, and they are always photographed. Your father is bound to see photos of the picture I paint of you when they appear in the newspapers and magazines. He’ll know I’ve been screwing you.’

She winced inside; sometimes his bluntness took her breath away, but she gave him a sweet smile and answered, ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, he won’t know any such thing.’

‘He will, because the painting I intend to paint of you will be very sensual – the way you look now. It won’t leave much to the imagination.’

‘Oh Daddy won’t care, he’s … a man of the world.’

‘He’s also the Earl of Dunvale, and believe me he’ll care. He won’t want the world to know I’m … you know … having it off with his daughter. Me? The notorious, rabble-rousing working-class lad from the back streets of Leeds. Not ’alf he won’t.’

‘Now you are being silly. You’re the greatest painter in the world today. Everyone knows that. Anyway, I actually don’t care what my father or anyone else thinks. I’m twenty-seven and I can do anything I want. And I want to be painted by you, in fact I’m flattered that you asked.’

‘It’s a deal?’

‘Of course.’ She thrust out her hand. ‘Let’s shake.’

His boisterous laughter filled the air as he shook her hand, then he pulled her into his arms and embraced her. Against her hair he said, ‘There’s another condition. Before I paint you we’ll have to be together, if you get my drift. You do understand that, Lady India?’

‘Absolutely, Mr Rhodes. I’m in total agreement.’

He put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to your car,’ he murmured and turned the handle of the French windows. They opened up onto the terrace of the south façade of the house, which was very beautiful; there was a portico supported by four soaring columns, and the wide terrace stretched the length of the house and around the two end wings.

The heat of the August afternoon hit them as they stepped outside, and Dusty said, ‘It’s muggy, and it looks like rain.’ He glanced up. ‘Thunderclouds, India, but you’ll get to Pennistone Royal before the rain starts.’

‘I hope so,’ she murmured, also glancing up, and instantly thinking of the search party out on the estate in rainy weather. But hopefully Adele had been found, or returned, by now. Involuntarily, she shivered when she thought of the missing child.

Dusty noticed and took hold of her arm as they walked along the terrace, heading for the courtyard. After a short silence, he said, ‘Maybe I should go with you. You’re just three women out there and –’

‘Four with Evan,’ India cut in.

‘All right, four women. But you might need a bloke around. A bloke like me, who knows what’s what. Mark Longden could show up making demands, you know. From what you’ve told me he’s nasty.’

‘Yes, he is, but we’ll be all right, please don’t worry. There’s Wiggs, the head gardener, and Joe, who runs the estate.’

‘And then there’s that other rule, isn’t there, India? No outsiders allowed.’

India eyed him through the corner of her eye, trying to ascertain his mood. He had sounded slightly annoyed; spotting the hint of mischief in his eyes, she laughed. ‘Well, I will say this, you do learn fast, Mr Rhodes.’

‘So do you, Lady India,’ he shot back. ‘How long do you intend to stay up here?’

‘I’d planned to stay for a week before this happened. But who knows, I could be here longer now, if I’m out at the house and not at the store in Leeds. I’ve a lot of work there, and I’ll have to stay until it’s finished.’

‘When can I start the painting?’

‘Tomorrow. Hopefully. It all depends.’

He picked up on the concern in her voice, and said quietly, ‘I’m sure Adele will show up, India, I really mean that. And certainly I hope so.’

‘Thanks, Dusty …’ Her voice trailed off and she searched in her bag for the car keys, found them and headed towards her car parked next to the barns.

‘I do envy you this,’ Dusty said when he drew to a standstill, patting the bonnet. ‘An Aston Martin DB2-4, a piece of vintage mechanical art if ever there was one.’

She smiled up at him. ‘Wasn’t it nice of Daddy to part with his favourite wheels?’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘But then I am his favourite, you know,’ she added, getting into the car.

‘Don’t rub it in,’ Dusty responded, his laughter rising. ‘Give me a shout later.’

‘I will.’ After blowing him a kiss through the open window she turned on the ignition.

Once the Aston Martin had disappeared from sight, Dusty turned on his heels and crossed the cobbled yard, went down to the ornamental lake. He stood looking into its depths, taking pleasure at what he was seeing – a perfect reflection of the Georgian house on the hill, a mirror image clearly visible in that placid body of water as smooth as glass. How clever they were, those architects of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, he thought, nodding to himself. Whenever the topography allowed, they set the house on a hill and created a man-made lake at the bottom so that the house was reflected in all its glory. A double image. Very impressive indeed.

Dusty had studied architecture for a time, and he was particularly interested in the designs of Andrea Palladio. He considered it part of his training as an artist. And he had always thought that a Palladian villa set in a verdant English park was a very beautiful sight. He saw it as the perfect marriage of a building with nature. Dusty loved the classicism of the designs, because he loved all things classical, and of the Renaissance. William Kent, a follower of Inigo Jones, the great seventeenth-century architect, had designed and built his house, Willows Hall, over two hundred and seventy-five years ago, and it was pure Palladian. Dusty had fallen in love with it the first time he had seen it, although he had become concerned when he began to understand how neglected it truly was. The surveyors he had brought in had told him it was mostly surface damage, and that everything could be restored to its original state with some good repair work by master craftsmen.

He began to walk towards the house now, climbing up the grassy hill, and his thoughts automatically swung to India Standish. If anyone looked as if she belonged in this house it was she; after all, she had grown up in a very similar place – Clonloughlin in Ireland, a renowned Georgian house of impressive proportions and great beauty. And so of course she was at ease with the grand overtones of Willows Hall. He knew he looked right in it, too, even though he had been brought up in a back-to-back, a far cry from this place indeed.

Dusty had lavished a great deal of time, effort, care, love and money on Willows Hall over the past eight and a half years, and in doing so he had made it his own; he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

When he reached the top of the hill he stood gazing at the south front façade for a moment, and he couldn’t help admiring the way the pale stone gleamed in the afternoon sunlight; it looked as if it had been polished. It was perfectly beautiful.

As he lifted his eyes to the sky Dusty was happy to see that the thunderclouds had blown away; it wasn’t going to rain after all. Turning, he walked down the length of the terrace, making for his studio. This stood a little away from the house on the left, and it was of his own design. From the outside it looked like a guest villa, echoing the main house since it was in the Palladian style.

When Dusty went inside he stood blinking for a moment. The studio was one vast, open space with a high-flung ceiling that seemed to soar endlessly upward, with many windows on both sides. There were a series of skylights set in the ceiling, and the whole area was filled with intense glittering northern light. Still blinking, he touched several buttons and electric window shades slid into place over the windows, dimming the daylight, cooling the room.

Moving lithely, he crossed to a drawing board, picked up a charcoal crayon and quickly made a series of dramatic and vivid sketches of India’s face. Suddenly, he stopped, threw the crayon down and stepping away from the drawing board, went and lowered himself into an armchair.

Why was he painting her? The idea was ridiculous. It was really asking for trouble. In every way. Trouble for her. Trouble for him. Her father wouldn’t like her association with him; whatever she believed, he knew he was right. They came from entirely different worlds. She was an aristocrat from very high altitudes; he was a working-class boy. Yes, he was famous. Very famous, in fact. And rich. All because of his talent, and doing something he couldn’t live without doing. Painting. But as far as he was concerned, the Earl of Dunvale wouldn’t care about those things. Other considerations mattered to a man like her father. Propriety and background, and stupid things like where he had gone to school, and what his father did, and whether he had a posh accent.

No, it wasn’t fair to her, or to himself, actually, since he had no intention of becoming serious with India. He was wasting his valuable time with her, when he could be painting, and he was setting her up to get hurt when he said goodbye. Yes, she was trouble. For a variety of reasons.

The red phone on the counter top began to ring. He looked across at it balefully, reluctant to answer it. But it didn’t stop after six rings, so he got up in exasperation and strode over to the counter, snatched at the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Russell?’

‘Hello Melinda.’

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘Recognized your voice.’

‘I want out of this place, Russell,’ she wailed. ‘Get Dr Jeffers to release me.’

‘You know I can’t. You’ve got to stay there until he thinks you’re properly de-toxed. Then he’ll sign your release. I don’t have anything to do with it, you know that.’

‘Russell, please ask him.’

‘You know very well he won’t listen.’

‘Please don’t punish me this way.’

‘I’m not doing that, Melinda. You signed yourself into the clinic.’

‘I’ll tell Atlanta what you’re doing to me.’

‘I’m not doing anything. Anyway, she’s too young to understand.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘Yes, she’s wonderful. I spoke to your mother yesterday and she said she’s as happy as a lark. Look, Melinda, I’ve got to go. I’m working.’

‘Will you talk to the doctor? Please.’

‘Yes, I will. I’ll give him a ring tomorrow. Now rest quietly, and get well. ’Bye.’ He hung up and stared at the phone. Now that was trouble if anything was. And then some.

He groaned. What was he going to do about Melinda and his child? He dreaded the thought of someone finding out about them. And yet he knew it would leak out some time soon … he was far too famous for it not to … He let this disturbing thought go, unable, suddenly, to cope with it.

Unexpectedly, his thoughts veered to Tessa Longden and her predicament about Adele. He fully understood how she felt, the agony of mind she was going through. After all, he had a three-year-old of his own, and he could well imagine how beside himself he would be in the same circumstances.

India drove along the motorway at a steady pace; she was soon leaving Harrogate behind and heading towards the village of Pennistone Royal. The sky had changed, the thunderclouds had drifted out to the North Sea and it was a lovely pale blue again. She was relieved. There would be nothing worse than tramping over sodden fields and meadows looking for a lost child.

Was she lost on the estate? No. Mark Longden had taken her out of spite. As a bargaining chip, as Dusty had suggested. Dusty. He was such a difficult man in so many ways, and so full of contradictions. He was loaded with baggage, most of it about his background and their class differences, all of which she found silly. He wouldn’t listen to her. But no matter, she had fallen in love with him the night she had first met him, and nothing was going to change that. He was the only man she wanted, the only man for her, and she was determined to get him. Permanently. Long term. Marriage. That was her goal. It wasn’t going to be easy, she was fully aware of all the problems.

Dusty was extremely independent, loathed being pinned down. Nor did he like to make commitments. That was obviously why he had never married or had a long-term relationship. ‘Love ’em and leave ’em, that’s always been my motto,’ he had said to her when they first met several months ago, as if warning her. And then he had begun to laugh uproariously, seemingly highly amused by his own attitude.

He laughed a lot and she liked that. She couldn’t bear glum people who sounded like the voices of doom with their dire predictions of impending disasters and gloomy outlook. He was usually in top form, cheerful, optimistic, raring to go, and ready to take a chance on life, except when it came to wedded bliss, of course. That was verboten even as a subject, not open for discussion at all.

Dusty liked being one of the boyos, as he called his male friends, who were numerous and varied … actors, writers, politicians, journalists, ‘And,’ as he often said, ‘nobodies who I absolutely adore.’ He fancied himself as Jack the Lad – Jack the Bad Lad. He enjoyed carousing and creating a stir, constantly referred to himself as a rabble-rouser. However, she had come to understand in the three months she had known him that much of this was a bit of an act. In point of fact, he drank very little, hardly anything at all, mostly nursed a Stolichnaya over ice all night, simply made a big noise about his consumption of booze. She was well aware that the men in the Harte family drank much more than Dusty. But then he needed a very steady hand the next morning in order to do his work. His style of painting was Classical Realism, and notable art critics around the world had hailed him right from the beginning of his career as the new Pietro Annigoni, proclaiming that he had inherited the mantle of the famous Italian painter who had died in 1988. They called Dusty a genius, and with the same awe and reverence they had called Annigoni a genius. Dusty’s paintings were classical in style, very much in the manner of the great artists of the Renaissance, with precise attention to detail in the subject matter and background, whether these were interiors or exteriors. His portraits of the famous, and his paintings of landscapes and seascapes, were so detailed, his use of colour so breathtakingly beautiful, people simply stood and gazed at them mesmerized, unable to tear their eyes away.

Anybody who painted as precisely as he did could hardly afford to booze it up; she had said that to him once and he had grinned and winked at her. She felt the same way about his so-called rabble-rousing; even this was merely a form of jovial boisterousness, with much laughter, loud voices, arm-punching, back-slapping. Much ado about nothing, something which was totally innocuous but which the press played up. As he hoped they would. He loved his reputation as a wild hard-drinking hell-raiser, and did much to foster this characterization of himself. Especially in the papers.

When she had first understood his reputation was something of a myth she had burst out laughing. She had been walking through Harte’s with Linnet when the truth dawned on her, and she had been unable to suppress her hilarity. Her cousin had stared at her and shaken her head, and said pithily, ‘People who burst into gales of laughter for no apparent reason get taken away in straitjackets. Especially when they’re in the middle of a renowned and very posh emporium making a hullabaloo. Drawing attention to themselves.’

‘I’m sorry, Linnet,’ she had spluttered, ‘but I can’t help it. I’ve suddenly realized my boyfriend is a bit of a phoney.’

This comment had instantly gained Linnet’s undivided attention, and she had cried, ‘Oh get rid of him. Immediately. We don’t need anybody who’s not true blue around here. Anyway, he’d get clobbered by the lads.’

‘What lads?’

‘Julian, Gideon, Toby, and even young Desmond. They’d gang up on him.’

‘That’s true.’

‘By the way, when you say boyfriend are you referring to the VFP?’

‘VFP? What’s that?’

‘Very Famous Person. You told me you were seeing someone very famous but you never confided who he is.’

‘Russell Rhodes.’

‘Dusty Rhodes? The painter?’ Linnet’s eyes had widened.

She had simply nodded in response but was pleased by Linnet’s surprised reaction.

‘He looks rather dishy, India.’

‘He is, but complex.’

‘Aren’t they all,’ Linnet had responded, grinning at her.

She had laughed and answered, ‘But at least he’s never been married, so there’s no ex, or children to contend with. In fact he’d been unattached for quite a while before he met me.’

‘You know, Dad loves his work, in fact we all do. He’s always wanted Dusty Rhodes to paint Paula, but Mummy says she’s too busy to sit all those hours for an artist. I wish she would, though, and so does Daddy.’

‘I agree. Dusty’s the perfect person to paint your mother. He could do a wonderful medieval portrait of her.’

Linnet had then asked her a lot of questions about Dusty as they had continued their walk through the store; she had answered some but had remained silent about others. She had discovered she didn’t want to reveal too much about him or their relationship, at least not just yet. The real problem with Dusty was his attitude to her family. Without ever meeting any of them he had made a sudden snap decision and categorized them as aristos. ‘Too posh. Snobs. Hoity-toity, idle rich folks,’ was the way he described them. None of this was true, and she had tried to explain this, explain about her great-grandmother’s impoverished beginnings, but he had swept her words away and changed the subject in his usual imperious manner.

At first she had thought he suffered from an inferiority complex about his own bleak and desolate background, growing up as a poor boy in the back streets of Leeds. Certainly he was always making reference to this. But she had quickly come to accept that he didn’t have an inferiority complex at all – far from it, in fact. He was one of the most self-confident and self-possessed people she had ever met, in command of everything, exuding charm and displaying the most perfect manners when he wanted to.

Yet, nevertheless, Dusty believed her father would look down on him, wouldn’t approve of him, would condemn their relationship out of hand. And so far she hadn’t been able to convince him otherwise. But she would keep trying. And she knew her father and mother would like him, quite aside from the fact that they both admired his paintings, without even knowing she was involved with Dusty.

I have to give him time, she told herself, and slowed down as she came to the village. Within minutes she was leaving the small main street behind and heading for the road which would take her directly to the front gates of Pennistone Royal.

Her mind focused on Tessa and the situation she was likely to come across when she arrived. She had purposely not thought about it on the drive over from Dusty’s house, but now she had to concentrate on the matter at hand. She had no idea what she would have to face. She prayed she would find Adele with her mother and not still lost. Or abducted. Prayed that tragedy did not lurk in the shadows.

Jonathan Ainsley crept into her mind, and she grimaced. From what she had learned lately, it appeared that Mark Longden was under his influence. How terrible that such a thing had happened. Could Jonathan be pulling the strings, was he the mastermind behind Adele’s abduction? If that was what it was. She had no answers for herself.

CHAPTER FOUR

Linnet sat with Tessa in the upstairs parlour at Pennistone Royal, talking to her quietly, trying to reassure her that Adele was all right, that she would soon be home, silently praying that she was correct in this assertion, and that her assurances would not prove to be meaningless.

Evan was with them, seated near the lovely oriel window, but she was an observer rather than a participant at this moment, knowing it was best to let Linnet handle everything. Tessa could be touchy, even a little caustic, at the best of times, and today was the worst.

‘Mark would never do anything to upset or hurt Adele,’ Linnet said, touching her sister’s hand, then taking it in hers. ‘He does adore her, you know, that’s always been most apparent.’

‘Yes,’ Tessa responded, ‘but what if it’s not Mark who has her? Perhaps Desmond was right when he suggested it might well be a kidnapping for ransom. She could easily be with strangers, and therefore in danger.’

‘I really do doubt that,’ Linnet answered in a stronger tone, wishing her younger brother had not voiced this opinion. It was a possibility but he would have been wiser to have kept it to himself. ‘And you must trust Jack Figg. He’s the best and the smartest private investigator there is, Mummy’s said that for years and she’s always relied on him in a crisis. And don’t forget, he was head of Harte’s security for years.’

‘But he’s been retired for some time now,’ Tessa pointed out, a sudden shrillness in her voice.

‘Semi-retired, to be exact. He still works full time for those who need him, such as former clients he’s remained close to, like us. Anyway, you know very well our mother put him on a retainer and used him to do that in-depth check on Mark Longden several weeks ago. She filled us in before she went off to New York.’

‘Yes –’ Tessa’s voice suddenly broke and tears welled in her eyes again. She wiped them quickly with a tissue and continued shakily, ‘I’m so worried about Adele I can hardly bear it. She’s such a little girl and she must be so scared, even if she is with her father. I mean, being snatched off the terrace in such an awful way will have frightened her. I feel so helpless, I don’t know what to do.’

‘Listen to me,’ Linnet said in her firmest, most confident voice, ‘we don’t know how she was taken, whether it was awful or not. Actually, I’m sure it wasn’t.’ Hoping to calm Tessa, she went on talking. ‘I’m sure Mark made it seem like a game to Adele, you know, waving to her, putting his finger to his lips so she would be quiet, smiling at her, beckoning. Yes, I’m quite certain that’s what he did. It’s obvious he wouldn’t want to alarm her, frighten her. He knew he mustn’t upset her since he was taking her without your permission. She would’ve made quite a racket, I think, if he’d just rushed in and grabbed her.’

‘You seem so certain it is Mark. Like me.’ Tessa gave Linnet a hard stare and her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I just hope to God we’re right. What is Jack Figg actually doing right now?’

‘He’s working in the library, on the phone a lot, talking to people, mostly his operatives, I believe. I never question his methods and neither should you. Let it suffice for me to say that he has contacts everywhere in the world and in all walks of life. If anybody can find Adele, it’s Jack, believe me it is.’

Glancing across at Evan, Tessa said slowly, ‘You had lunch with Uncle Robin at Lackland Priory today. Did he mention Jonathan Ainsley? Where he was living these days?’

Evan tensed. Tessa had sounded almost accusatory, but she kept her voice level as she answered calmly, ‘No, he didn’t mention Jonathan. I’m sorry, Tessa, I don’t know anything about him. But he’s more than likely out of the country. In Hong Kong. Robin would have told me if Jonathan were in England … you see he would have warned me. I know Robin worries a lot about Jonathan doing me harm out of spite.’

‘And all of us, too, for that matter!’ Linnet exclaimed, her green eyes flashing. ‘He’s had it in for Mummy and her offspring for ages. In fact, I think he has it in for every one of the Hartes. He’d like to mow us all down with a machine gun and be rid of us once and for all. And all because he feels cheated by Emma Harte. He’s a nasty piece of work, but Mums says he always was.’

‘That’s true,’ Tessa agreed. ‘And to think Mark let himself fall into his clutches.’ Tessa sat back on the sofa, twisting the tissue in her hands, her face ringed with misery. At this precise moment she fervently wished she had never married Mark Longden. All he had ever done really was to create a ton of misery for her, not to mention the verbal and physical abuse he had meted out lately. Now he had stolen their child.

Suddenly the door flew open and India came into the upstairs parlour almost at a run. ‘Hi, everybody,’ she said and then made a bee-line for her cousin Tessa; she knelt down next to her and took hold of her hand. ‘I’m so sorry this happened,’ India murmured, looking at Tessa intently, wanting to convey her enormous sympathy and concern. Her face was full of compassion, her eyes warm and loving. ‘I’m here for you, whatever you need. You only have to ask.’

Tessa nodded, attempted a smile. It faltered instantly, but she managed to say, ‘Thanks, India, I’m glad you’re here.’

Watching India commiserate with Tessa, Evan couldn’t help thinking how very much alike they looked, like sisters actually, as if turned out from the same mould. It was apparent they were closely related; both had silver-gilt hair and silvery-grey luminous eyes, pale complexions and delicately-wrought faces. They were lovely looking in a soft, feminine way, and she knew their striking resemblance to each other came from their genes, their shared Fairley bloodline.

Evan had also heard the family legend that their great-great-grandmother Adele Fairley had been a famous beauty – stunning, elegant, aristocratic, and possibly slightly mad. And that it was from her that these two had inherited their unique silver-blonde hair and extraordinary eyes, as well as their angelic faces. Even little Adele had the same looks. She was part Fairley, and to Evan she did not appear to be anything at all like a Harte. The thought of the missing child made her shrivel inside, and she felt a sudden chill sweep over her. Involuntarily, she shivered. What if Adele were in some kind of danger? Everyone had mentioned Mark, or a kidnapper looking for money, but hadn’t anyone thought of a paedophile?

Immediately Evan shoved that thought aside, it was too awful to contemplate. She glanced across at Linnet, who was a true Harte with her halo of red hair, green eyes and dynamic personality. Gideon had the same Harte colouring and upbeat attitude. Evan couldn’t help but admire Linnet this afternoon. She had taken charge in a quiet but confident way and was handling everything with true diplomacy and efficiency. Not only did she convey great positiveness, she had managed somehow to keep Tessa calm. Evan knew how much the latter was suffering; furthermore, Tessa was at a loss, had no idea what to do, which was so unlike her.

Linnet’s cell phone began to ring and she got up, walked over to one of the tall windows, stood talking for a moment, and Evan knew it was Julian on the other end. Linnet had asked her to be a bridesmaid at her marriage to Julian in the winter, and she had been thrilled to accept. Gideon was to be best man and India the other bridesmaid.

Her eyes wandered around the upstairs parlour … Linnet had once explained to her that this had been Emma Harte’s favourite room, and she understood the reasons why. It was lovely, gracious, charming, and spacious, with a high ceiling and tall leaded windows. There was a carved mantel over the fireplace and the walls were a sunny daffodil colour. Two large comfortable sofas were covered in a floral chintz fabric vibrant with scarlet and blues, greens and pinks on a pale yellow background. The Aubusson rug underfoot was obviously rare, a valuable antique, as were the pieces of furniture made of mellow, ripe woods. Linnet had also explained that over the years the room had never changed in its decor; it was simply refurbished with the same fabrics and colours for a sense of continuity and as a reflection of Emma’s great taste.

Evan loved art and she was particularly interested in English landscapes, and for a moment her gaze rested on the museum-quality Turner hanging on a side wall, then it swung to the oil painting above the mantelpiece. This was of Paul McGill, the love of Emma’s life; he was wearing an army officer’s uniform and it had apparently been painted in the First World War. What a handsome man he was, she thought. No wonder Emma had succumbed to his charms.

‘Evan, let’s go down to the kitchen and rustle up a pot of tea,’ Linnet said. ‘And Margaret will make us some smoked salmon sandwiches. I’m starved. I didn’t have lunch.’

Evan sat up with a start, brought out of her reverie by Linnet’s voice. ‘Okay!’ she answered at once, jumping up, moving across the floor swiftly, hating to be caught offguard in this way.

‘What about you, Tessa?’ Linnet asked.

‘I couldn’t eat a thing! Food would choke me!’ she cried, shaking her head almost violently.

‘India? Do you want something, darling?’ Linnet’s auburn brow lifted questioningly.

Her cousin nodded. ‘Tea with lemon would be nice, and so would a smoked salmon sandwich. Thanks.’

‘I thought you’d had lunch,’ Linnet murmured, and then stopped short. ‘Oh, but you never finished it, did you? Instead you drove here.’ Linnet stared hard at India but her face was quite expressionless.

‘That’s correct,’ India responded evenly, her own face as blank as her cousin’s. But she couldn’t help wondering if Linnet had guessed she had been with Dusty at lunchtime. No matter; Linnet was always on her side whatever she did.

Jack Figg was seated at the large Georgian desk in the panelled library, his eyes on the papers spread out in front of him.

After a moment he lifted his eyes and looked across at Linnet, who was seated on the sofa with Tessa. She was grim and intent, but holding her own as he knew she would. It was Tessa he was worried about.

She looked as though she would pass out at any moment; her face was stark, chalky, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed from weeping. He fully understood how anguished and worried she was, and his heart went out to her. Apart from being a kind and compassionate man, he had once lost a child to death and his grief had been searing, a sorrow he could not endure. Now he prayed that Adele was alive. Instinctively he felt that she was, and he wanted more than anything else to trust in those instincts. God damn it, she has to be alive, he thought, willing it to be so.

Seated on the other sofa near the fireplace were India Standish, whom he had known since she was a child, and Evan Hughes, the newcomer to the family, recently-discovered, and another great-granddaughter of Emma. He could see the concern on their faces as well, and he knew that all of these four young women had been waiting for hours to get an update on the situation from him.

So had young Emsie and Desmond, who had rushed after him when he had traversed the estate with Wiggs and Joe earlier. They were now sitting on the upholstered library fender, obviously being extremely careful about opening their mouths. He had warned them that if they wanted to stay in the library they had to remain totally quiet. ‘Not one word,’ he had cautioned and they had nodded their agreement.

Without preamble he began to speak, addressing himself to Linnet and Tessa who sat together. ‘It’s turning four-thirty, and it’s just over five and a half hours since Adele disappeared.’ He paused, his eyes sweeping over them, then he went on: ‘I’m afraid I don’t know where she is. But I do know where she isn’t, and that’s here at Pennistone Royal. She’s not in the fields, the meadows, the woods or the gardens, which have all been thoroughly scoured. And I’ve even had Wiggs drag the pond. Fortunately, all he found were weeds. Nor has Adele been seen in Pennistone Royal village, although two or three people did notice a black Mercedes driving through at high speed around lunchtime. That’s obviously the same car which was seen here in the drive by Wiggs and the stable lads.’

‘What about Mark? What about Mark?’ Tessa cried excitedly, repeating herself, and clutching the rag doll to her, as she had done on and off during the day. ‘Have you tried to find him?’

‘I have indeed,’ Jack responded softly. ‘I spoke to his secretary who told me he had taken a few days off –’

‘He came up here to grab Adele!’ Tessa interrupted, her voice rising. ‘I bet anything he’s in Yorkshire. With Jonathan Ainsley. They’re in this together.’ She looked agitated, and her eyes flared.

‘He could be up here, of course,’ Jack said, ‘but he’s certainly not with Jonathan Ainsley. I’ve had one of my people check Jonathan’s whereabouts and he’s in Hong Kong at this very moment. And he’s been there for several weeks.’

‘Perhaps Mark took Adele back to London with him, if he grabbed her,’ Linnet ventured, giving Jack a long, hard stare.

‘He’s not in his apartment nor is he at the house in Hampstead. Both places have been checked out.’

‘But the house is locked up –’ Tessa began, and then her voice faltered when she saw the irritated expression flashing across Jack’s face.

‘Yes, the house is locked up, Tessa, and so is Mark’s apartment. But we do have our ways of checking things out.’

‘I understand,’ she said meekly, leaning back against the sofa, ignoring Linnet who had poked her in the ribs a moment ago, warning her to shut up, she had no doubt.

‘I’ve phoned Mark’s mother in Gloucestershire,’ Jack continued. ‘She was not at home, but was expected early this evening, according to someone called Dory.’

‘Dory’s the housekeeper,’ Tessa volunteered. She cleared her throat and went on somewhat tentatively, ‘Mrs Longden’s a bit of a doting mother, but she’s a decent woman. If Mark took Adele to her home she would insist he brought her back to me at once.’

‘If his mother knew he had Adele without your permission,’ Jack pointed out. ‘Mark might not tell her. Anyway, I think that in all probability he’s somewhere in Yorkshire. We must find him.’

‘But how?’ India asked, frowning. ‘It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, isn’t it?’

‘Only too true,’ Jack agreed. ‘It’s not going to be easy, even if we go to the police. We may have to do that, and soon. I’ve spoken at length to Gideon, I told him we might need to blast the news of Adele’s abduction all over the media, starting with the Harte television network and the Harte newspapers. Gideon agrees with me. But we’re not going to do that just yet. Before we go to those lengths, or go to the police, I want to give Mark a chance to bring Adele home to you, Tessa. Tonight, if that’s at all possible.’

‘But what if it’s not Mark who grabbed her?’ Tessa asked, sounding suddenly tremulous again. ‘What if it’s a kidnapping?’

‘We’d have had a ransom note or some kind of communication from the kidnappers before now if that were the case,’ Jack explained. ‘By the way, Tessa, at my request Gideon spoke to Toby in Los Angeles this afternoon. Toby hasn’t been trying to get hold of you today. So I’m positive it was Mark calling you this morning in an effort to distract you while he took Adele. Or it was someone else, someone who was helping him, working with him.’

‘I didn’t really recognize the voice,’ Tessa replied. ‘Although it did sound familiar, I suppose that’s why I thought it must be Toby.’

Leaning forward in the chair, his arms resting on the desk, Jack was thoughtful for a moment before saying, ‘In a short while I shall phone Mark’s mother, explain what’s happened. Hopefully she will cooperate, if she knows anything, that is. But if we don’t have anything new or know where Mark is by about six-thirty, then I’ll have no alternative but to inform the North Yorkshire police. I will also call Gideon to tell him to go ahead and issue a news bulletin about Adele’s disappearance. I can’t leave it much longer than that, I simply can’t take that chance.’

Tessa pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled her sobs.

Linnet exclaimed, ‘Once the Harte media companies go public here it will be on American television. Mummy will have to be told before she hears it from another source.’

Jack gave Linnet a fleeting smile. ‘I’ll be calling her after I’ve been in touch with the police, if that becomes necessary. You and Tessa can speak to her as well. But the main thing now is to find out whether or not Mrs Longden knows anything.’ Jack leaned back in the chair trying to relax his tense muscles, and glanced across at the grandfather clock as he did.

There was a sudden silence in the room. No one spoke. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts.

Tessa’s mind was in a turmoil, her senses swimming. It was almost six and she had no idea where her child was, and she was more frantic than ever. She felt nauseous, and making a snap decision she jumped up. ‘I need some air!’ she cried to the room at large.

Immediately India pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to Tessa, took hold of her arm. ‘Come on, darling, let’s go for some fresh air. After ten minutes outside you’ll feel much better.’

‘I think I will,’ Tessa mumbled, pushing down the sickly feeling.

After Tessa and India had left the library, Evan cleared her throat and said to Jack, ‘I didn’t want to bring this up in front of Tessa, but what if it’s neither Mark nor kidnappers but a paedophile?’

A long sigh escaped Jack and then he said, ‘That had crossed my mind.’ At this moment his mobile began to ring and he turned it on. ‘Figg here,’ he said, pressing it to his ear. Standing up, he walked over to the windows, and stood listening to his caller, eventually murmured his thanks and clicked off. Walking back to the desk, he told them, ‘That was one of my operatives who’s been checking every hotel in the area. Mark Longden was definitely in Yorkshire three nights ago. He stayed at the Queen’s Hotel in Leeds. And last night he was at the Swan in Harrogate. However, he has checked out of both places. So far my chap hasn’t found him registered anywhere else. Not yet.’

‘Perhaps he’s staying at a private home,’ Linnet said, and gave Jack a knowing look, trying to indicate she needed to speak to him alone.

‘I’m really frightened,’ Tessa said quietly, staring at India, ‘frightened that some harm might come to Adele. She’s such a delicate, sensitive little girl, so defenceless. But then all small children are defenceless against adults, aren’t they?’

‘That’s right,’ India agreed. ‘But let’s try and look on the bright side. I’m sure she’s with Mark, not strangers, and therefore she’s quite safe.’

Tessa shivered and goose flesh sprang up on her arms. ‘You don’t know what Mark’s become, India! A drunk, a drug-addict! He’s not been himself for a long time, and he’s an abuser. I’ve feared for my life …’ She peered at India. ‘Did you know that?’

‘Yes, your mother told me he’d been violent with you. It’s shocking when you think about it – that he could become somebody else, totally different almost overnight.’

‘When he’s in control of himself he’s fine. It’s when he’s under the influence of drink or drugs that he’s dangerous, and quite inadvertently he could hurt Adele. That’s what worries me.’

‘I understand. But as I said, we’ve got to remain positive.’ As she spoke, India got up from the wooden garden seat, and suggested, ‘Why don’t we go down to the old oak and sit there for a while? It’s nicer there.’

‘All right –’ Tessa stopped, turned to India. ‘Perhaps we ought to go back inside. I’m afraid of missing something.’

‘Linnet will come and get us if there’s any news. It’ll do you good to be out of that room for a bit. It was becoming claustrophobic.’

Tessa nodded, and the two of them walked down the path, past the long terrace; they crossed the sloping lawn and finally came to a stop under the ancient tree. They sat together at the wrought-iron table but remained silent for a few moments, each of them involved with their own thoughts.

It was Tessa who finally broke the silence when she said in a low voice, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Adele, I love her so much, she’s my life. I’d just fall apart forever, everything would become so meaningless without her. Without my little girl my life would be over.’

‘Come on, Tessa, don’t talk like this,’ India exclaimed briskly. ‘Jack’s going to get her back, you’ll see. And you’ll settle things amicably with Mark, the divorce will go through, and things will be normal.’

‘Oh, India, I do hope you’re right, but he’s being very greedy, you know. He wants the house, a lot of money, and joint custody of Adele. I don’t think I could agree to joint custody; the house yes. But not joint custody.’

‘Once you’ve got Adele back I think you ought to try and move quickly, settle matters with him. You know very well you hate things hanging over your head.’

‘You’re right,’ Tessa agreed, suddenly brightening. ‘I’ll talk to my solicitor, perhaps we can get everything moving faster. Much faster. But it’s only a few months since I left Mark.’

‘That’s true, but so what. Anyway, Linnet and I both agree that Mark has always been avaricious, so he’s got his price, in my opinion. Buy him off, Tessa, it’s the only way.’ India peered across the table at her cousin. ‘That’s a Harte rule, remember.’

Jack and Linnet had walked out into the Stone Hall and stood talking quietly near the fireplace.

‘Mark has friends in Yorkshire, where he could stay with Adele? Is that what you’re suggesting?’ Jack asked, squinting at Linnet in the dim, early evening light.

‘Yes,’ she answered and moving across the floor she turned on several lamps.

He stood watching her for a moment, thinking how much she resembled Emma Harte – well, a young Emma – with her red-gold hair and English-rose complexion. He’d gone to work for Emma when he was eighteen, forty years ago, and he had loved, respected and admired her, found her to be the most exacting, exasperating, charming, bossy and brilliant woman he had ever known. She had been his favourite boss. Now, here was Linnet, the spitting image of her, and just as smart, smart as a whip. She was his favourite amongst this younger generation because to him she exemplified so much of the past and her family’s heritage as well as the present. It’s as if she has a foot in both worlds, the old and the new, he thought, and that makes her unique, and very special to me.

‘What are you thinking about, Jack?’ Linnet asked, sitting in a chair. ‘You look as if you’ve just had a most brilliant thought.’

‘Not all that brilliant, but yes, I’ve had a rather interesting thought. Actually, it’s a thought I’d had earlier and now it’s come back. Look, Linnet, Jonathan Ainsley’s in Hong Kong, that we know for certain, but the world’s a village today, and he could very well be masterminding this situation with Mark and Adele. By phone, probably. He wouldn’t want to put it in writing, in an e-mail or a fax. And, and this is very important, he’s got a former girlfriend in Yorkshire, and she –’

‘Of course, my mother’s secretary, Eleanor! And what you’re suggesting is that Jonathan is manipulating Mark long distance in order to hurt Paula and us, and that Mark goes along because he wants to spite Tessa. Good thinking.’ She gave him a penetrating look. ‘Are you wondering if Eleanor’s in on it?’

‘I am indeed,’ Jack answered, flopping down in the chair opposite her, crossing his legs.

‘If she is, she’s being very foolish,’ Linnet murmured. ‘My mother’s on to her. She has taken all power away from her. But she is an old flame of Jonathan’s, and they’ve recently been in contact again. Look, I’m not suggesting she’d help Mark take Adele, but perhaps she’s offering him –’

‘A safe haven for a few days?’ Jack ventured, cutting in, then smiling across at her.

‘Yes, that’s my thought.’

‘But would she risk her job, I wonder? She might tittle-tattle about your mother, but do you think she would really help Mark? It would make her an accessory. And it would be construed as a kidnapping if we have to go to the police, resort to the law.’

‘But not everybody’s familiar with the law, or as astute as you are, Jack. Maybe she just doesn’t understand. Also, there’s another thing we have to think about. Ellie does rather fancy herself, and she’s still a lovely-looking woman … so, perhaps she harbours the idea that Jonathan is going to get back with her after all. And if that’s the case, does her job working for my mother at the Leeds store really matter to her?’

‘You’ve got a point there, Linnet. And Mark could have taken Adele to Ellie’s home without her knowing what’s going on, if we’re to give her the benefit of the doubt.’ Jack now peered at his watch and stood up. ‘Time to make that call to Mrs Longden, I think. Come on, Beauty, let’s go on a fishing trip in Gloucestershire. Also, let’s keep this conversation to ourselves, all right?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said.

CHAPTER FIVE

The moment Jack walked back into the library with Linnet he immediately picked up on the tension in the air. Tessa sat as rigid as stone on the sofa, her face strained, her eyes filled with suffering. India was sitting next to her, also stiffly erect in her seat, her expression one of worry and anxiety. Evan, standing next to a window, was talking on her mobile whilst Emsie and Desmond huddled on the upholstered brass fender, whispering together.

Linnet gave Jack a quick look, and then hurried across to the other sofa, where she was instantly joined by Evan.

Jack strode over to the desk and stood behind it, suddenly conscious of six pairs of eyes fixed unwaveringly on him. I’ve got to get this moving along, he thought, I can’t delay. Time is of the essence now. He knew he was going to have to bring in the police and the media if he didn’t succeed with Mark’s mother. And then there was the possibility that she didn’t know anything, was an innocent bystander. If that was the case, he would have calculated wrongly. He prayed he had been right in his assumptions, that she would be able to help them solve this.

In his usual businesslike way, and without any idle chit-chat, he told them: ‘I’m now going to call Mark’s mother.’ Fixing his gaze on Tessa, he added, ‘I’m putting the phone on the speaker so you can hear her responses, but I want you to be perfectly quiet.’ His eyes swept over the others. ‘And that goes for everyone else, of course. One other thing, Tessa. Will you have a word with your mother-in-law? It might be necessary.’

There was only a moment’s hesitation on Tessa’s part, and then she nodded quickly. ‘I’ll talk to her, yes. We’re not close, but as I said, she’s a decent enough woman.’ There was a little pause; Tessa frowned, then added, ‘Mark’s her only son and she’ll always be on his side no matter what, even though he leads her a merry dance. But if you think it’s necessary I’ll certainly come to the phone.’

Jack nodded his understanding and sat down. Picking up the receiver he pressed the speaker button and then dialled.

A few moments later a woman answered. ‘Camden Lodge. Hello?’ Her cultured voice was heard by everyone in the library.

‘Is this Mrs Hilary Longden?’

‘Yes, this is she.’

‘Good evening, Mrs Longden. My name’s Jack Figg. I phoned earlier but you were out. You don’t know me, Mrs Longden, but you do know my employer, Mrs Paula O’Neill.’

‘Well, of course. Tessa’s mother. Have we met, Mr Figg?’ she asked, her curiosity apparent in her tone, her voice pleasant.

‘Briefly. At Tessa’s marriage to Mark. But to get to the point, we have a problem, Mrs Longden. I’m here at Pennistone Royal with Tessa, and the reason I’m here is because Adele, your granddaughter, disappeared around eleven o’clock this morning and she still hasn’t been found.’

‘Oh my God! How terrible! Tessa and Mark must be out of their minds with worry. Oh dear, oh dear, why haven’t they found her? Surely she’s somewhere on the estate? Oh, my poor little Adele, she must be so frightened. This is very upsetting, just awful. Can I speak to my son? And Tessa?’ Her voice had risen an octave or two, had become shrill, and it was obvious she was genuinely distressed. ‘How can I be of help, Mr Figg?’ she asked.

‘By telling me where your son is, Mrs Longden,’ Jack answered in a voice echoing with cold determination.

‘Mark? Do you mean he’s not there with Tessa?’ She was obviously startled by this fact.

‘No, he’s not. I have reason to believe that it’s Mark who took Adele without informing Tessa,’ Jack announced. ‘I believe he has abducted her, and I must put certain things into oper –’

‘Mark would never abduct Adele!’ she cut in peremptorily and with great indignation. ‘That’s ridiculous! Preposterous! He’s her father … what on earth are you suggesting? Going on about in this way, Mr Figg?’

‘An abduction. Which will be construed as a kidnapping by the police and the law. Kidnappers get tough sentences, you know. And I will have to go to the police within the next few minutes. I can’t put it off any longer. We’ve been unable to find Adele on the estate after several searches, nor can we locate Mark. He, too, has disappeared. So I have no alternative but to bring in law enforcement and also the Harte media companies. They can help by issuing news bulletins on television and the radio. We must find Adele as quickly as possible. It’s imperative.’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you, Mr Figg?’ She sounded shaken, frightened.

‘Very, very serious, Mrs Longden.’

‘B-b-b-but I don’t understand,’ she began, stuttering, obviously more unhinged than before. ‘Why would Mark take Adele without telling Tessa? I’m not following this.’

Intuitively, Jack knew the woman was telling him the truth, and he modulated his voice slightly, made it softer, as he explained. ‘Because of the divorce. It’s becoming extremely bitter, he’s trying to use Adele as a weapon against Tessa.’

‘Divorce! They’re getting a divorce! But I don’t know anything about that. Oh, this is so absurd, Mark would have told me. My son tells me everything. It just can’t be,’ she asserted.

‘Oh it’s true right enough,’ Jack answered. ‘Would you like to speak to your daughter-in-law now?’

‘Y-y-y-yes please.’ The stuttering had started again.

‘Just a moment.’ Jack beckoned to Tessa, who was by his side in a flash. Covering the mouthpiece, he said softly, ‘Be careful what you say. We need her.’

Taking the receiver from him, Tessa murmured, ‘Hello, Mrs Longden.’ She was trying hard to keep a rein on her emotions, willing herself to be controlled, even though she was shaking inside. ‘Jack is correct. Mark has taken Adele. There is no other explanation for her disappearance. She must be so upset and confused, not understanding what’s going on, poor little thing.’

‘Yes, yes, I know, you’re right. But is it true about the divorce?’

‘Yes, it is. I’ve tried hard with Mark, tried to keep the marriage together, but it’s not been working between us. We’ve been separated since June.’

‘Mark never told me!’ Hilary Longden cried, tears in her voice. ‘How could Mark do that to me?’

‘I don’t know, but he did. And we do need to find Mark,’ Tessa repeated tensely. ‘And Adele.’

‘I don’t know where he is, and I am telling you the truth!’

‘Would Mr Longden know?’ Tessa probed.

‘No, no, of course not. Mark’s not a little boy, he doesn’t check in with us, you know that, Tessa.’

Tessa looked at Jack, made a facial grimace and handed the phone to him without a word.

‘Jack Figg again, Mrs Longden. Since you have no knowledge of Mark’s whereabouts I shall call in the North Yorkshire police. I do know Mark was in Yorkshire over the last few days, including last night, and I’m quite certain they’ll find him fast enough. It’s a pity, really, that I have to resort to this. And then there’s going to be all the nasty publicity. That can’t possibly do his reputation much good. Well, thanks for your courtesy, for hearing me out, Mrs Longden. Good night.’

‘Mr Figg, please, don’t hang up! I promise you I have no idea where Mark is, nor do I know anything about Adele’s disappearance. However, I do have a mobile phone number which Mark gave me last week. I think it might be a new one.’

‘Please give it to me.’

‘Just a minute. I have to find it. Hold on, it’s somewhere on this desk.’ A split second later she was reciting the number to him and extracting a promise from him to keep her abreast of the situation.

Jack hung up and said to Tessa, ‘Do you know this mobile number?’ As he spoke he showed her the pad he had written it on.

She shook her head. ‘His mother’s right. I think it’s a new one.’

Jack lifted the phone and dialled.

It was answered within a split second. ‘Hello?’

‘Mark?’

‘Yes.’ There was a hesitancy in the voice, wariness.

‘If you cut me off I will immediately ask the North Yorkshire police to go into action. And I’ll tell the media about your abduction of Adele.’

‘What?’ Mark exploded.

‘Don’t start with me, Mark. We know you have Adele. You’ve been spotted.’

‘Who the hell is this?’ he demanded, anger in the tone.

‘Jack Figg here. I work for Paula O’Neill. I’m with Tessa at Pennistone Royal. We want Adele returned. At once.’

‘I don’t have her. It’s the first I’ve heard about an abduction.’

‘You don’t sound too upset about your daughter’s sudden disappearance today. Which means that you know exactly where she is. She’s with you. How do charges of kidnapping sound, Mark? Should help your career and your reputation no end, eh?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he cried.

Tessa came to Jack, gave him a hard stare and motioned to the phone. He handed it over at once.

‘Mark, this is Tessa. Please bring Adele back.’

‘Why am I being accused in this way?’ he demanded, anger echoing again.

‘Because you took her this morning. We know you did. Wiggs saw you. Please, please bring her back to me. For the child’s sake.’

‘I told you, I don’t have her!’

‘Yes, you do. Don’t play games with me, Mark.’

There was a silence and she wondered if she had lost him, been cut off, when he suddenly spoke again.

He said, ‘You won’t get her back until you meet my terms.’

‘Anything you want,’ she said swiftly, relief flooding through her. Obviously, he did have Adele.

‘Joint custody, for starters,’ Mark intoned.

‘The solicitors will work all that out. But you can have the house in Hampstead, the cars, a financial settlement, as you wanted.’

‘Joint custody,’ he repeated, icy cold.

Jack’s cell phone began to ring and he switched it on, walked closer to the window, speaking into it as he did.

Tessa’s eyes followed Jack; she said into the phone, ‘The solicitors will have to get together to work things out.’ She took a deep breath and against her better judgement added, ‘If not joint custody then certainly a lot of access.’

Suddenly Jack was hurrying towards her across the library, a grim smile on his face. He took the receiver from her unceremoniously, and said, ‘Jack Figg here. I’ve just been speaking to the North Yorkshire police on the other line. They are on their way to pick you up. We know you are at the Spa Hotel in Ripon with Adele. Registered under the name of William Stone.’

Jack paused when he heard the surprised intake of breath at the other end of the phone. ‘If you leave now you can be here at Pennistone Royal in half an hour, and deal with me. Or you can wait for the police to pick you up within the next fifteen minutes. Your choice, mate.’

‘I’m leaving now,’ Mark said abruptly, the bluster gone from his voice all of a sudden.

‘With Adele?’

‘Yes, I’m bringing her,’ Mark mumbled and clicked off.

Jack replaced the receiver and looked at Tessa, a triumphant gleam in his light-grey eyes. ‘That was one of my operatives on my mobile a moment ago. When he discovered that a man with a little girl was staying at the Spa in Ripon he double-checked with a contact he has there. The name William Stone didn’t ring a bell with Pete, but he thought he’d better tell me, and of course I knew it was Mark at once.’

‘Thank God!’ Tessa reached out, touched Jack’s arm. ‘I feel as though I’m going to faint with relief that she’s coming home. Thanks, Jack, thank you so much.’

In a sudden spontaneous gesture, Jack stepped closer, pulled her into his arms and hugged her to him. ‘Before you can say Jack Robinson you’ll have Adele back with you. Now, come on, we’ve quite a lot to do before he arrives.’

Tessa nodded and then promptly burst into tears, sobbing as if her heart would break. ‘It’s relief,’ he said to her gently, and led her over to the sofa. Looking at India he went on, ‘It’s a normal reaction, she’s been pent up with tension all day. Sit with her, look after her, she’ll be fine soon.’

Beckoning to Desmond and Emsie, Jack continued, ‘I need you two to do a couple of things for me.’

‘Yes, Jack!’ Desmond exclaimed, instantly jumping off the fender, rushing over to Jack, with Emsie following in his wake.

‘What do you need us to do?’ Emsie asked when they came to a stop near the Georgian desk. Her face was eager, her dark eyes bright with earnestness.

‘Desmond, please go and find Wiggs and tell him that Adele should be back within half an hour. But don’t say anything else, and don’t mention Mark. Okay?’

Desmond nodded, and then volunteered, ‘And Jack, when you talk to Mums, tell her we need to do something about security here. Anybody can come and go as they please.’

‘I’ve made a note to do that, Desmond. I’ve a plan for a proper security system in the works,’ Jack replied, and then looked at Emsie, smiled at her. ‘Go and tell Margaret and Joe that Adele is coming back soon, and please ask Margaret to bring in some ice and a tray of drinks. I certainly need a vodka and I’m sure everyone else wants something, too.’

The two youngsters hurried out, and Linnet walked across to Jack and hugged him. ‘Thanks Jack, thanks for everything you’ve done.’ Her face was ringed in smiles.

‘Thanks not necessary, Beauty.’ He stared at her intently, said in a low voice, ‘I pushed it a bit, but I felt I was doing the right thing. Thank God it worked out all right. Mark became scared when I said the police were on the way. It sobered him up.’

‘Why? Was he drunk?’ Linnet asked swiftly, raising a brow.

‘Just a manner of speaking.’

‘Had you called the North Yorkshire police, Jack, or were you bluffing?’

‘Bluffing, Beauty. But when Pete, my operative checking the local hotels, mentioned the name William Stone I remembered what you’d told me about Mark using that name as a pseudonym for his client Jonathan Ainsley.’

‘I’m glad I told you.’

He smiled, went to the desk, sat down, looked at the pad where he had made voluminous notes.

A moment later Evan was standing in front of the desk, and he glanced up, his eyes questioning.

‘Thanks for being such a calming influence, Jack. Would it be all right if I told Robin that Jonathan is in Hong Kong? He was wondering where his son was when I had lunch with him today. It will ease his mind knowing Jonathan’s not in the country.’

‘By all means. Be my guest, Evan.’

A moment later Linnet and Evan went to sit with Tessa and India, gently talking to Tessa, reassuring her that everything was going to be all right. She accepted their words, their kindness, their reassurances, and tried to smile, tried to bring herself back to a normal state. But the tension was deeply imbedded in her, and she was also aware that her life had been changed forever by the events of the day. She also knew that no easing of her pain would come until her child was safely by her side.

Gideon Harte sat at his desk in the offices of the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company, in South East London, not far from the famed Fleet Street of yesteryear. Although the renowned street of ink was still there, many of the great national daily newspapers had moved to quarters elsewhere as the Hartes’ newspaper company had.

Overlooking a portion of the Thames, Gideon’s office was spacious, light-filled and airy, with lots of plate-glass windows, shaded by silver metal-mesh panels. It was discreetly decorated in shades of white and grey, and there were lots of books banked in low-slung black-lacquered shelves that rode across a long back wall. His black-lacquered desk was empty, the way he liked it, with a few memos in simple black trays, a dictionary, a thesaurus, and antique crystal inkpots on a silver tray.

Pushing his chair back, Gideon lifted his feet to the desk and leaned back in the chair, watching the large modern clock on the wall straight ahead. Once the hands hit six forty-five he lowered his legs, sat up straight and picked up the phone. He dialled the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills and waited.

When the operator answered he said, ‘Toby Harte, please.’

A moment later his brother was saying, ‘Hello? Toby Harte here.’

‘It’s me, Toby. Gid. And it’s good news. Jack’s found Mark. He’s admitted he has Adele, and he’s on his way to Pennistone Royal now bringing her back to Tessa.’

‘Thank God! What a bastard he is, Gid, taking his own child in that way, and all to get back at poor Tessa. He should be – well, I can’t think of anything quite bad enough to do to that shit!’

Gid laughed. ‘How about horsewhipped, to use an old-fashioned phrase? Or even better, what about hung, drawn and quartered?’

Toby also laughed and said, ‘I’ll punch him in the face a few times myself and I’ll be relieved when I know Adele is actually with Tessa at the house. Only then will I relax, I don’t trust that bugger.’

‘I agree with you. But I promised to let you know as soon as I had some news, and I just hung up on Jack. Evan had called me a few minutes before, to pass the word for him. But then Jack called himself, wanted to talk to me about security. Not only at Pennistone Royal, which is very vulnerable, as we now know, but all of our homes, and I think he’s right. They should have more protection.’

‘Agreed. And Jack’s the right chap to set everything up. By the way, do Paula and Shane know anything yet, Gid?’

‘God, no! And don’t get involved. Don’t tell our parents, because you know our mother will pass it on to Paula. They’re as thick as thieves.’

‘Well, all of them are. Mother and Dad. Shane and Paula, Sally and Anthony Standish, Amanda. And Sarah, now she’s back in the fold. They grew up together, for God’s sake,’ Toby reminded his brother. ‘We all know about Heron’s Nest, the summers they spent there, now don’t we!’

‘Listen to this. Jack told me that one of his operatives found out that a man with a small child was registered at the Spa Hotel in Ripon – your old hunting ground, if you recall. Anyway, the man had registered under the name of William Stone. It meant nothing to Jack’s chap, but the minute Jack heard it he knew it had to be Mark. William Stone equals Jonathan Ainsley. That’s his pseudonym.’

‘Oh Christ, you’re right! Was Jonathan involved, do you think?’ Toby wondered out loud.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Gideon answered, ‘but it’s crossed Tessa’s mind and Linnet’s, not to mention Jack’s as well, so Evan told me.’

‘I see. Paula will have to be told eventually, you know, something like this can’t be shoved under the rug.’

‘It couldn’t be anyway, because Tessa’s promised Mark Longden the earth to bring Adele back to her, and she’s going to have to discuss all that with her mother and Shane. It could involve millions, according to Linnet. I guess right now Longden is harping on about joint custody, so Tessa is trying to buy him off. Everybody has a price, according to our great-grandmother. Emma’s rule.’

‘Emma was right. And that joint custody bit won’t sit well with Tessa. Thank God Adrianna and I don’t have any kids, it certainly makes things easier.’

‘Are you and Adrianna definitely getting the divorce, then, Toby?’ Gideon asked.

‘We are, but at least it’s amicable. We both want it, Gid. She’s decided she prefers to live and work in Hollywood, and I want to be in London. Have to be, as a matter of fact, when you consider my responsibilities. The marriage was a big mistake, in all truthfulness. But she’s being decent, believe it or not … she’s not a gold-digger, far from it. Adrianna doesn’t want alimony. She’d like me to buy her a small flat in London, so she can have a base: you know, one foot each side of the Atlantic, and I agreed. Actually, though, I’m thinking of letting her have our flat. I’ve never really liked it, and she has always loved it.’

‘I felt you wanted a divorce, so am glad for you, Toby. And Dad will be, too. He’s looking for grandchildren from you, Toby, and he never thought Adrianna was the motherly type.’

Toby began to chuckle. ‘Never a truer word spoken by our dear dad. The old man’s right on the ball.’ There was a moment’s hesitation before Toby went on. ‘Do you think I can call Tessa? I’ve been so terribly worried about her, and I do want her to know I’m here for her, whatever she needs.’

‘Why shouldn’t you phone her, Toby? You and she have been joined at the hip all of your lives. And she knows you’re there for her. Of course, give her a ring, for God’s sake.’

‘I wouldn’t want to call her just when she was getting Adele back, I wouldn’t want to interrupt that. Knowing Tessa the way I do, she’s suffered horribly today, not knowing where Adele was.’

‘You’ve got a few minutes before Mark arrives at the house. So call her now and give her my love.’

‘I will. Everything’s all right between you and Evan, isn’t it, Gid?’

‘Absolutely. Never been better. Talk to you later.’

‘Sure thing, Gideon.’

Gideon leaned back in his chair, after hanging up on his brother, propped his feet on the desk again and closed his eyes. He began to think about Evan Hughes.

Things were better between them, even though she was constantly worrying about her father and his impending trip to England. But she’s really worrying about what he’ll think of me, and of Robin Ainsley, Gideon suddenly decided, and wished then that she wouldn’t wrestle with those sort of things, inventing problems when they didn’t exist. The problem was Evan herself, Gideon decided. She needed everybody to like the people she liked, and that wasn’t the way the world was.

He knew he wanted to make a life with Evan, wanted her on a permanent basis. And ever since the beginning of their relationship he had felt she wanted to make a life with him. But he had come to the conclusion she couldn’t make that commitment to him because of her father and his peculiar attitude towards the Hartes.

Gideon sighed. He would be delighted when her father finally did arrive from New York. Then everything would be out in the open.

In the meantime, he had a national daily to get out. With his father away, The Daily Gazette was under his aegis. Opening his eyes and swinging his feet to the carpet, he stood up, retrieved his mobile from the desk and left his office, heading for the newsroom, one of the places he always loved to be.

Tessa could hardly sit still and finally, in her agitation, she stood up and exclaimed to Jack, ‘I just can’t stand it! I’ve got to go to the front door, wait for Adele there.’

‘I know, I know. Go ahead, Tessa. Mark should be arriving at any moment now. Come to think of it, I’d better accompany you.’ Jack joined her, took hold of her arm and led her to the Stone Hall.

After taking only one step into the Stone Hall, Tessa stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Jack. ‘The rag doll! The first thing she’ll ask for is her Reggi. Hang on a minute, Jack, whilst I go and get it. I left it in the library.’

He nodded, his eyes following her as she retraced their steps. She had hugged that doll to her for half the day, saying time and again to them all that Adele was undoubtedly heartbroken because she’d lost it. He sighed to himself. This was one hell of a mess, a bitter separation that would only become more and more acrimonious as time passed.

When Paula had brought him in a few weeks ago to investigate Mark Longden, he had realized at once how troubled she was about her daughter’s husband. Paula was not the type of person to pry into people’s lives, have them checked out, rather she had great respect for everyone’s privacy. Once he had begun to dig, Jack was glad she had taken the steps she had; he hadn’t liked what he had discovered about Mark Longden and he had lost no time in bringing the information to Paula.

Longden was very entangled with Paula’s cousin, Jonathan Ainsley, her great enemy and the enemy of the entire Harte family. Ainsley had hired Longden as the architect of his new mansion in Thirsk, and Longden had soon fallen under Jonathan’s bad influence. Booze and drugs and other women were the perks Mark was being offered. He had indulged and become addicted. Paula had been as appalled as he was, and worried for Tessa because of Mark’s violence towards her in the past. Even though they had already separated there was no telling what Mark Longden might do to her. Witness today. Snatching Adele was both cruel and dangerous, and yet Mark hadn’t hesitated. It’s blackmail, Jack thought, he set out to blackmail her and he succeeded. He’s after money, big money, as well as joint custody. He won’t get that, not with the evidence I have about his private life. But Paula will give him the money just to get rid of him. And good riddance to bad rubbish.

‘Here I am!’ Tessa exclaimed, hurrying into the Stone Hall, the rag doll in her hand. ‘You don’t know how she loves this bit of nothing. To her it’s the most precious thing in the world …’ Tessa paused, looked at Jack and said softly, ‘As she is the most precious thing to me. Thank you again, Jack, for getting her back. She’s the most important part of my life.’

‘I know that, Tess. And you ought to know by now that I’ll always help you any way I can. Why, I’ve known you since you were Adele’s age, and you looked just like she looks now.’

‘Mummy always says she’s the spitting image of me.’

They crossed the small entrance hall and Jack unlocked the front door and opened it; they both stepped out onto the top step. The sky was pale blue and bright, the light crystalline on this August evening, and it was warm. Yet despite the mugginess he noticed that Tessa shivered slightly as she stared towards the drive, and he saw the strain settling on her face once more, picked up on her sudden tension. She had relaxed for only a brief moment and he knew she could barely contain herself as she waited for Adele.

They glanced at each other as they suddenly heard wheels on the gravel drive, and within seconds a black Mercedes was turning the bend. Tessa started to move but Jack restrained her.

‘I know you long to hold her in your arms, but let us wait for a moment, Tessa. I need to see how Adele behaves when he takes her out of the car. I need to know if she’s frightened or upset, and, most importantly, if she’s afraid of her father. Those things are important for the divorce, you see.’

‘I understand,’ Tessa mumbled, but her agitation was growing and she was trembling excessively, could not keep a limb still.

The car finally came to a standstill in the area near the privet hedge which was always used for parking. She wished he’d driven up to the front door, so anxious was she for her daughter’s return.

Mark alighted, glanced across at Tessa and Jack in the doorway, then went around and lifted Adele out of the car.

For a moment it seemed as though he was going to carry her over, but Adele began to struggle in his arms, and he had no option but to put her down on the ground.

The child shot away from him, running to her mother, shouting, ‘Mumma! Mumma!’, moving as fast as her little legs would carry her. ‘I lost Reggi,’ she shouted and began to sob loudly.

Tessa ran to meet her, afraid that the three-year-old was going to stumble and hurt herself, and as she drew close Tessa noticed how dishevelled Adele looked; her silver-gilt hair was a tangled mess, her face had black smudges on it and what looked like raspberry jam around her mouth, and her pale blue shirt and shorts were grubby.

A split-second later Tessa was showing Adele the rag doll, exclaiming, ‘Look, here’s Reggi, I found her for you, darling.’

‘Oh Mumma. It’s my Reggi!’ Adele’s sobbing instantly stopped, and she lifted her tear-stained face to her mother, gave her a huge smile as she clutched the rag doll to her.

Tessa, who was kneeling, pushed away her tears, smiled back and took Adele in her arms, hugged her close, filled with love for her small, defenceless little girl. And mingling with that love was enormous relief that she was now safely home. Out of the corner of her eye Tessa saw Mark approaching, coming to join them. Instantly, she let go of Adele and stood up. Then she scooped the child into her arms and took a step backwards, wanting to put distance between herself and Mark.

When he drew to a standstill he glanced at Jack, and then addressed Tessa. ‘Shall we have our little talk?’

‘Let’s do it later. Please. Adele must be awfully tired, and perhaps even hungry. Have you fed her today?’

‘Of course I’ve fed her, you stupid fool! I love my child, why wouldn’t I feed her!’ he cried, glaring at Tessa, his face flushing.

She glared back at him, hating every fibre of his being. Not only for all that he had done to her, but also for his cruel abduction of Adele, which could have so easily gone wrong, causing additional heartache for them all.

‘Now, now, Mark,’ Jack said quietly, stepping forward protectively, motioning for Tessa to go into the vestibule. ‘Angry words aren’t going to get you anywhere. And certainly we shouldn’t be doing business in front of your daughter. Or on the doorstep, for that matter.’ Looking over his shoulder at Tessa, who stood just behind him, he asked her, ‘Perhaps we could talk to Mark for a few minutes? Inside?’

Filled with anger, and anxious to bathe and feed her daughter, Tessa simply nodded, swung around, walked through the vestibule and into the Stone Hall.

Jack was very close on her heels and he caught up with her and said, ‘Why don’t you take Adele into the library? She’ll be all right with the others for a few minutes, and that’s all this is going to take, I can assure you of that. Just leave it to me.’

‘All right, Jack, but I hope it is only a few minutes.’ She hurried across the vast hall made of local Yorkshire stone, heading for the library. When she pushed open the door and went in everyone clapped and laughed and surged around her and the child, making a big fuss of Adele, who laughed happily, her eyes sparkling, and accepted all of their kisses.

And then a moment later, just as Tessa was turning to leave the room, Elvira rushed in, her face drained of all colour, her eyes filled with apprehension.

‘Elvira!’ Tessa cried when she saw the nanny. ‘Did you just get back from Leeds?’

‘I did, Mrs Longden, and Margaret and Joe told me what happened to Adele today. Oh Mrs Longden, I’m so sorry, I wish I hadn’t taken the day off, I wish I’d been here …’ Her voice trailed off, and she looked suddenly uncertain what to do next.

‘Elvi,’ Adele said, smiling at her, ‘I lost Reggi. Mumma found her. Look.’ She showed Elvira the rag doll.

‘I’m glad she’s safe,’ Elvira murmured to the child, but looking up at Tessa as she spoke.

‘Take her for a few minutes, Elvira, please, I have to speak to Mr Longden,’ Tessa said, and handed Adele to the nanny.

Glancing at the others, Tessa’s eyes finally settled on Linnet. ‘I’ll be right back. Jack’s in charge out there, and he knows what he’s doing.’

‘He certainly does,’ Linnet concurred. ‘He’s the best.’

Returning to the Stone Hall, Tessa found Jack and Mark sitting opposite each other near the fireplace. Mark was angry, while Jack seemed remarkably calm, cool, and unperturbed. He’s holding all the cards, she suddenly thought, remembering some of the things he had told her mother.

Not wanting to sit down, to make it appear that she was ready to have a long discussion, Tessa remained standing, positioning herself near the soaring stone fireplace.

Jack looked across at her and said in a soft but distinct voice, ‘I told Mark you would be quite happy to reiterate the terms you had given him earlier on the phone. Seemingly he’d like to hear them again.’

‘You can have the house in Hampstead,’ Tessa began, ‘which is actually mine, since my mother gave it to me, not to us. You can also have the two cars which are garaged there. I’ll throw in all of the contents of the house, as well, except for a few paintings and personal items which are mine, and my other personal possessions such as clothes, that sort of thing. And I will make a financial settlement on you.’

‘I want the jewellery back. The pieces I gave you.’

‘Fine. That’s certainly very fine by me,’ she said, thinking that every piece was a worthless nothing.

‘And I want joint custody of Adele.’

‘That I can’t promise,’ Tessa said, her voice suddenly trembling unexpectedly, ‘but I will give you fair access.’

‘Joint custody,’ he snapped in a nasty voice.

‘No, Mark, I can’t agree to that. Not after today.’

‘We’ll see what the divorce courts have to say,’ he threatened.

Jack cleared his throat. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, I think the divorce courts will be in Tessa’s favour.’

‘No way! A father has as many rights as the mother these days, and let’s not forget that.’

‘But you are rather a problematic father, I would say.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’ he demanded furiously, staring at Jack through blazing eyes.

‘I don’t want to go into it now, since your solicitor and Tessa’s will be discussing everything shortly. But perhaps I should just add that we have quite a lot of information about your private life, your indulgences, your preferences, your rather … decadent lifestyle, shall we call it? Do I need to say more?’ Jack gave the younger man a hard look, rose and went to stand next to Tessa.

Leaping to his feet, Mark cried, ‘This sounds like bloody blackmail to me!’

‘Call it what you will,’ Jack murmured. ‘But I do have the evidence to prove that I am speaking the truth. And by the by, it’s certainly the kind of evidence that a judge would be interested in hearing, especially since a child’s welfare is at the heart of the matter.’

Glaring first at Jack and then at Tessa, Mark shouted, ‘You haven’t heard the last of me!’

‘Nor have you heard the last of me, mate,’ Jack retorted. ‘And now, under the circumstances, I think it’s about time you left. I’ll escort you to the door.’

CHAPTER SIX

Paula O’Neill stood at one of the windows in the bedroom of the Fifth Avenue apartment, looking out at the view of Central Park. It was sunny and hot but not humid outside, and there was a sparkle to the day. The leafy domes of the trees in the park were brilliantly green against the azure sky, and rising upward beyond the trees the skyline of Manhattan looked superb. Brilliant sunshine glanced off thousands of windows, making the skyscrapers appear to gleam, almost shimmer in the clear light.

There’s no city like it anywhere else in the world, she thought. She had always loved New York ever since she had first come here as a child with her grandmother; Emma had also been addicted to this busy, electric, exciting, whirlwind city – where anything was possible, Emma frequently said to her, adding, ‘The sky’s the limit here, Paula. And don’t you ever forget it.’

Turning away from the window, Paula walked across the bedroom and out into the entrance foyer, her high heels clicking against the black-and-white marble floor as she headed towards the library, one of her favourite rooms in the apartment. It had been her grandfather’s favourite, too, according to Emma, who had once confided that he had loved the dark-wood panelling on the walls, the books bound in red leather, the Georgian antiques she had chosen, the warmth of dark-rose brocade hanging at the windows and used on the sofas. ‘He used to say it was masculine without being stuffy and heavy,’ her grandmother had explained, ‘but then he usually did like the way I decorated our homes.’

Paul McGill had bought the Fifth Avenue apartment for Emma and himself in the 1930s, and it was a spacious and lovely duplex designed by the renowned architect Rosario Candela in 1931. After Paul’s untimely death in 1939 Emma had contemplated selling it but only briefly. There was a war on, and she was far too preoccupied with other matters and the Blitz in London to worry about the apartment in Manhattan. ‘And I’m glad I didn’t sell it,’ Emma had once told her, ‘because it means we can live here in comfort and privacy when we come to the States instead of having to stay in hotels.’

Paula and her brother Philip had inherited the apartment jointly upon Emma’s death, but it was also used by other members of the family whenever they came to America, particularly her cousins Emily and Winston Harte, and Emily’s sister Amanda Linde who flew in all the time. Everyone loved it, took great pride in its uncommon beauty; luxurious and comfortable without being ostentatious, it truly bore Emma Harte’s imprint in every way and was a reflection of her great taste, her critical eye for colour and the finest in antiques and paintings.

Now, as she seated herself at the desk, Paula felt a sudden, unexpected sense of awe when she thought about her grandmother and her most remarkable achievements. It was mind-boggling really when she considered everything that Grandy had accomplished in her life – and she a poor girl from Fairley, a mill village on the Yorkshire moors, who had started working at the age of twelve as a servant for the Fairleys of Fairley Hall.

However did she do it? Paula wondered. Where did it come from, this talent, this infallible taste, this sense of style and scale, this understanding of art, and colour and fabrics? And where did her drive and energy, her strength and stamina come from? How did she summon up that unique will, that indomitability, that desire to scale the mountain tops? How on earth did that little servant girl become such a great lady, such a successful tycoon, so powerful, unbeatable, and absolutely inimitable? Emma Harte almost single-handedly had created a business empire worth many billions of pounds today, and had left her descendants an extraordinary legacy of power, wealth and privilege, not to mention that successful, thriving business empire that circled the globe.

There has never been anyone like her, Paula thought, shaking her head in wonderment, still gazing into space. Emma was a one-off; they threw away the mould after they made her. And again she wondered to herself how Grandy had done it … what extraordinary gifts she had had …

As the phone rang Paula automatically reached for it. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Mummy, it’s me, Linnet.’

‘Darling, what a nice surprise! How’s everyone? How’s the remodelling and revamping of the stores coming along?’ Paula asked, her joy at hearing her daughter’s voice echoing in her own.

‘Oh very well, I’m pleased …’ Linnet paused, took a deep breath, said quickly, ‘Mummy, listen, something happened today. But it’s all right now, everything’s fine. Honestly. But I thought I’d better fill you in. And –’

‘What happened, Linnet?’ Paula cut in swiftly, sensing trouble at once. ‘I hope everyone’s all right?’ As she spoke Paula had a sudden remembrance of the day her cousin Winston Harte had called Shane in Connecticut, to break the news that her father and her husband were dead, killed in an avalanche in Chamonix. Goose flesh speckled her arms and she felt cold all over; she tensed, wondering what bad news was coming now.

‘Yes, yes, all’s okay,’ Linnet exclaimed, and told her what had happened earlier.

‘Oh God, no! Not Adele! But she has been found? You did say everyone was all right?’

‘Yes, she’s safely home at Pennistone Royal again, with Tessa.’ There was a pause and Linnet added, ‘I brought Jack in, and here he is, Mummy. I’ll come back to you in a few minutes. Jack needs to talk to you.’

‘Hello, Paula,’ he said.

‘Hello, Jack, I’m so glad you’re there,’ Paula answered, and she thought her voice sounded unnatural, strangled in her throat.

‘Everybody’s quite safe,’ Jack went on calmly in his most reassuring voice. He had always adored Paula, and there were those in the family who actually believed he’d been secretly in love with her for years. ‘As Linnet just told you, the child is unharmed. Now, Paula, I must insist you do something about security here. You don’t have much at all. Just burglar alarms … it’s downright dangerous.’

‘Shane’s mentioned it several times lately. I don’t think any of us envisioned something like this … kidnapping happening though. But you’re right, security has become extremely important. Can you do it for us, Jack? Can you set it up?’

‘Yes, I’ll get the best security experts on it at once. Tomorrow, in fact.’

‘That’s a good idea, and thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I’ll be forever grateful.’

‘Just know I’m always here for you,’ he said.

‘Can I speak to Tessa, Jack?’

‘Yes indeed, she’s standing right next to me. I’ll talk to you later, Paula.’

‘Hello, Mummy,’ Tessa began and stopped abruptly, choking up.

‘Tessa darling, I’m so sorry this happened, so very sorry. You must have gone through hell today.’

‘I did,’ Tessa answered, her voice tearful. ‘But I’m happy to say Adele is perfectly fine, and she doesn’t seem at all upset, other than she thought she’d lost her rag doll. She’s fast asleep now, and Elvira is sleeping in her room tonight. Mummy, Mark was beastly, so cruel and hateful. He did this because he wanted to get at me, wanted a weapon to use, to gain advantage over me. It was wrong that he used Adele in this way. Oh, and he wants joint custody.’

‘He’ll never get it, Tessa, please be assured of that. When Jack investigated Mark he came up with quite a lot of unsavoury information, and I feel certain he will be viewed as an unfit father by the courts. What did you promise him, darling, in order to get Adele back?’

‘Only those things we’d discussed earlier. The Hampstead house, the cars garaged there, and a financial settlement. Nothing more, and I was wary about the custody. I said the lawyers will have to talk it through.’

‘Good girl. And do let the legal team handle things from now on.’

‘Oh I will, Mummy, but I had to offer something to get him to bring Adele home.’

‘I know you did. I think you did very well indeed. And one thing we must do is make sure the price is right. You don’t want Mark around your neck for the rest of your life like an albatross.’

‘Can I stay up here? Jack says it’ll be perfectly safe, that Mark won’t come around troubling me again. And he has the front and back gates locked tonight. He can make it really secure here.’

‘Yes, I think you should stay, as you’d planned, and of course Jack is right about it being made secure, and also about Mark Longden, who’s probably already regretting that he did this terrible thing. How’re Emsie and Desmond? I suppose they were there when this happened?’

‘They were out riding. But they want to say hello. I’ll pass the phone, Mummy.’

After she had hung up Paula sat for a while at the desk, mulling over everything Jack and her children had told her; she had also spoken to India and Evan, heard their opinions as well. It seemed to be the general consensus that Jonathan Ainsley was involved, somehow, in the events that had transpired at Pennistone Royal earlier in the day.

Jonathan Ainsley. Her first cousin and bitter enemy. Enemy of her immediate family. Enemy of the entire Harte clan. And the O’Neills and the Kallinskis as well, since they were all so closely connected.

Lately he had been clever. He had pulled Mark Longden into his orbit by hiring him to design his new home in North Yorkshire. Mark had taken the bait, flattered; he had quickly been lured into Jonathan’s decadent social life, and, inevitably, he had become Jonathan’s pawn.

Her cousin hadn’t had to do anything himself to hurt her – simply whisper a few choice words in Mark Longden’s ear about Tessa. And the die was cast.

She did not know how to deal with Jonathan at this moment, though she would eventually find a way to outwit him. But she did know how to handle Mark, render him powerless against her daughter and grandchild. And she would put her plans in motion tomorrow.

She glanced at the carriage clock on the desk, saw that it was after five and wondered what had happened to Emily. She couldn’t still be at the board meeting at Harte Enterprises, could she? But of course she could. Emily was diligent and –

‘Sorry I’m so late getting back!’ Emily exclaimed, hurrying into the library looking warm, her face slightly flushed. ‘Oh good, it’s lovely and cool in here. It’s a furnace outside –’ Emily suddenly broke off, staring at her cousin and frowning. ‘What’s wrong, Paula? You look quite awful.’

‘Hello, Emily,’ Paula answered, rising, walking around the desk, kissing Emily on the cheek. ‘I just had a little bit of a shock actually, but everything’s all right. I’ll tell you about it in a moment. Shall we have a cup of tea? Or do you want iced tea?’

Sitting down on the sofa, without taking her eyes off Paula, Emily said, ‘I think I’d like iced tea for a change. Shall I go and tell Alice?’

‘No, no, I’ll do it. And will Winston be back from Toronto or not? I need to tell her how many we’ll be for dinner.’

‘It’s still just you and me, darling. Winston won’t make it out today. Maybe tomorrow, and I’m assuming Shane is coming on Friday as planned.’

‘That’s correct. He’s taking the morning plane from Nassau. So yes, we’re a couple of grass widows tonight.’ As she spoke Paula glided out of the room, went to the kitchen, spoke to Alice, the housekeeper, and returned within seconds.

She went over and sat down in a chair facing Emily, and explained, ‘There’s been a bit of a fuss at Pennistone Royal today.’ Speaking swiftly, and with her usual conciseness, Paula told Emily everything that had happened in Yorkshire.

‘What a ghastly day poor Tessa must’ve had, and thank God it all ended well. Almost anything could have gone wrong, you know. And listen, Paula –’ Emily leaned forward and continued in a much quieter, confiding voice, ‘I tend to agree with Linnet and Tessa, bloody Jonathan probably was involved. He has to be dealt with – somehow.’

‘I agree, but I’m not sure what to do about him at this moment, Em. However, I think I have a way to make Mark Longden toe the line and behave himself. I’ve come up with a plan in the last half hour and I think it will work. I certainly intend to set it in motion tomorrow.’

‘Oh please tell me about it,’ Emily said eagerly, her face lighting up.

And Paula did.

After Emily had gone to her room to relax before dinner, Paula sat for a while at the desk, going over her engagements for the next few days. But at one moment the striking of the clock in the hall made her sit up with a start, and her concentration fled.

Leaning back in her desk chair she sat thinking about Tessa and her granddaughter Adele, and the things that had happened at Pennistone Royal that day. Thank God they were safe. She wished Shane were here. Turning her head, she looked at the photograph on a nearby circular table, rose, and walked over to it.

Seating herself in the adjacent chair, she picked up a silver-framed picture of Shane, and a smile broke across her face. It had been taken many years ago, when he was about twenty-six, and she couldn’t help thinking how wonderful he looked, so handsome, debonair even then. What was it Emma had always said about him? That he had glamour. And that was the truth. She had never known anyone with that kind of glamour, man or woman. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, he was Black Irish through and through, and she had always teased him, said he had kissed the Blarney Stone. ‘Inherited the gift of the gab from my grandfather,’ he answered back, and she responded, ‘Emma says Blackie’s kissed three Blarney Stones!’

It’s funny how life works out, she suddenly thought, her eyes settling on a photograph of Tessa and Lorne with Shane. He had brought them up as his own since they’d been toddlers, and she knew how much Lorne loved Shane, but she sometimes wondered about Tessa’s feelings for him.

Of course she loves him, Paula told herself. Everyone has always loved Shane. Grandy. My mother. Winston Harte, his best friend and sparring partner since they were boys. And Emily. And Sally and Anthony Standish. Shane, if the truth be known, was the most popular person in the three clans, and anywhere else!

Her eyes moved on, and she literally laughed out loud when they fell upon a photograph taken when they were all teenagers: a picture of them at Heron’s Nest one summer, Emma’s house in Scarborough by the sea. It had been taken the year the boys had formed their own band. The Herons they called themselves, and of course it was Shane who was the band-leader. He also played the piano and was the vocalist. Alexander, her beloved Sandy, now sadly dead these long years, had played the drums and cymbals; Michael Kallinski had warbled the harmonica; Jonathan scraped the violin; Philip blew the flute. But it had been Winston who considered himself the most important, the most talented member of the ensemble. He had modelled himself on Bix Beiderbecke, after seeing the film Young Man With A Horn, and thought he was the bees’ knees. They had wondered out loud where he had learned to play the trumpet, and Emma had smiled thinly and said he hadn’t, and that was the trouble. What fun they had had together in those days.

Shane had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, since her childhood. She had become conscious of him when she was four and he was eight, and had tagged along after him.

One summer afternoon, Shane had told her he had a wonderful idea. He said she was to become Queen Boadicea, and he would be her consort, her lord. ‘But we have to look right,’ Shane had confided. ‘How should we look?’ she had asked him, her violet eyes full of love and pride at being his friend even then. ‘We have to be blue,’ the eight-year-old boy had explained. And had then proceeded to paint her blue all over, after he had undressed her. She had insisted on keeping her knickers on, being a modest child. And later Emma had been thankful she had. At least some pores had been allowed to breathe, and so she had stayed alive. Somehow, Shane had coaxed her into painting him blue to match, and there was hell to pay when Blackie came over at Emma’s request to chastise his grandson. ‘Young scallywag,’ Blackie had pronounced.

Remembering all this, Paula smiled, thinking of the turpentine baths Emma and Blackie had given them … worse than any thrashing.

Blue, she thought, seeing in her mind’s eye her lovely blue marbles which Shane had managed to lose. He had presented her with some new ones but they weren’t as nice, and she had been put out with him for a long time.

And then one day, when they were grown up, he had given her a small leather box, and when she had opened it she had been entranced by the sapphire earrings inside.

Leaning down, kissing her, Shane had said, ‘I hope these will now satisfy you … they are in place of those blue marbles I lost when you were all of six.’

And one day much later she had married Shane.

Yes, life is strange, she thought again. They had grown up together, had been inseparable even as teenagers, and then he had gone off to boarding school, later university, and she had seen less of him.

And she had met Jim Fairley, who worked for Emma, and they had fallen in love. Or so she thought. She had married Jim, had had the twins, Tessa and Lorne.

Shane had moved to New York to run the O’Neill Hotel chain on that side of the Atlantic. But he had never married, and one day, when her marriage was falling apart, they had suddenly understood that they were in love with each other, and always had been.

They had discovered this in Shane’s wonderful old barn in New Milford, an oasis of peace in the Connecticut countryside. And they had vowed to be together always. Somehow. Because it was meant to be.

Life plays funny tricks, she murmured to herself. Jim Fairley and her father David Amory, on a skiing holiday in Chamonix, had been killed in an avalanche. Winston and Emily had decided not to go skiing that day, and had narrowly escaped death. Their time wasn’t up, Paula whispered to herself. That’s what Emma always used to say: ‘You go on living until your time’s up.’

For a long time she had grieved for Jim and her father, and suffered the most devastating guilt. She had sent Shane away because of her guilt. But eventually she had realized how much she loved him and needed him, had understood he was her entire life. He still was.

Evan’s mother, Marietta Hughes, was furious.

Once again Owen had behaved in the most high-handed way and she felt like strangling him. But because her mother had always told her no man was worth murdering because of the dire consequences to oneself, she had decided against this rather harsh and drastic solution.

Flight for several hours was the only way she could settle the score and calm herself. And so she grabbed her handbag, picked up the shopping bag she had just taken out of the wardrobe, where it had been hidden behind her clothes for days, and left the suite. She didn’t even go into the bedroom to say goodbye to him. And so he would worry when he discovered she had gone.

As she took the lift down to the hotel lobby she prayed she wouldn’t run into the hotel proprietors, George or Arlette, especially Arlette, who constantly wanted to take her for tea or coffee in order to gossip about Evan. She knew the Frenchwoman adored Evan, had been kind to her, and meant no harm, but Marietta usually felt a degree of discomfort if forced to discuss members of her family, particularly Evan who was very special to her.

Fortunately she was not waylaid, made it safely out into the street, where she stood looking for a cab. It was a nice day, if a little too humid, but she was relieved it wasn’t raining. It had poured yesterday.

A cab slid to a stop in front of her and she got in, gave the cabbie the address of her bank, then sat back. She was relieved that she had escaped from the hotel without having to deal with George or Arlette, and, most importantly, that the shopping bag had gone undetected in its hiding place in the wardrobe.

Marietta placed her handbag on the cab seat next to her, but kept the shopping bag on her lap. The package inside it was precious – ever since finding it she had believed it to be dynamite – and she must keep it safe. She wasn’t sure if she could use it to her advantage, but she certainly was aware of its true value.

It suddenly struck her how wise she had been to keep her account open at Barclay’s Bank. There wasn’t much money in it, because she hadn’t transferred any, but they knew her at this particular branch, and renting a safe-deposit box had presented no problem. How relieved she would be when the package was safely in the bank. Then she would go to Fortnum and Mason’s and have coffee in the restaurant, and perhaps browse around in the store. She might even buy herself a hat, although she knew she wasn’t going anywhere special to wear it. But she’d always loved hats.

Normally she would have gone to Harte’s in Knightsbridge for coffee, but she was afraid of running into Evan. They were supposed to be in Connecticut, not here, were not due in London until next week. Owen had decided to come earlier than planned. ‘To give us time to get over our jet lag,’ he had said, but she knew this was just a ploy. He had wanted to arrive sooner than expected in order to take Evan by surprise, to catch her off-guard.

Marietta hadn’t liked that at all, but she had kept quiet. Long ago she had learned not to argue with Owen. So most of the time she kept her own counsel; however this did not prevent her from drawing her own conclusions and she knew she was right when it came to his attitude towards their daughter.

Owen had always believed he owned Evan. Certainly he behaved as if he did. He had taken their daughter over years ago, when she was very young, and he had pushed her out. She had lost Evan because of his possessiveness, and also because of her own mistakes, perhaps. She gripped the shopping bag tighter, her knuckles whitening over the handles as she thought of the past. Sometimes you did something, just a small thing, and yet it could have the most terrible and far-reaching consequences.

The cab came to a stop, and she alighted quickly, paid the driver and went into the bank. It was all so easy … within minutes she was placing the precious package in the safe-deposit box and putting the key in her handbag. Now no harm would come to it; nor could it be lost or stolen.

It was only much later, when she sat sipping her coffee in Fortnum’s that a terrible thought occurred to Marietta. What if she got sick and died, or was killed in an accident, or became senile? What would happen to the package in the safe-deposit box at the bank? No one but she knew it was there. She would have to tell someone. But who could she confide in?

Marietta’s mouth twitched slightly in a wry smile. There was nobody she could make her confidant because she did not trust anyone she knew.

A lawyer, she thought, I need a lawyer. To make a will. Yes, that’s what I have to do. She had a few things of real value to leave. As well as the package in the safe-deposit box. For her daughter Evan. The person she loved the most in the entire world.

Tomorrow that would be her project. She would set out to find a lawyer. It was imperative.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The four of them walked slowly around the perimeter of the estate – Jack Figg, Gideon Harte, Evan Hughes and Desmond O’Neill. Jack had a captive audience and he was in his element. He was talking about his favourite subject, Security with a capital S, and he did so enthusiastically.

‘For years all that’s ever been needed here are burglar alarms, because there are so many people around most of the time … Wiggs and his gardeners, the stable lads, Joe and his estate workers. But it’s very different now. We’re living in dangerous times, things are not the same anymore. England’s changed and not for the better,’ Jack pointed out.

‘You’re absolutely right in everything you say,’ Gideon answered. ‘It’s the same at Allington Hall, by the way. My father hasn’t got proper security either, except for alarms, and it’s downright neglectful when you think about it … all those horses, valuable horses, for example.’

Desmond said, ‘Uncle Winston has been talking about security with Dad. I heard them wittering on about it a few weeks ago. But I think Dad and Uncle Winston are very trusting.’

‘Perhaps that’s true when it comes to their homes,’ said Gideon. ‘But I know for a fact that your father is extremely high on security for all the O’Neill hotels, and certainly Dad knows it’s a priority at the newspaper offices, the television network and our radio stations.’ He glanced at Jack. ‘I’m hiring you right now to overhaul the security system at Allington Hall. And I’d like you to tackle the newspaper offices, television studios, radio stations as well. Make sure we’ve got the latest.’

‘Thanks for your vote of confidence, Gideon,’ Jack said, ‘but I will be hiring outside companies, if that’s all right. Of course I’ll be working with them, supervising.’

Gideon nodded.

‘One thing’s for sure, the store has huge security in place,’ Evan volunteered, smiling at Jack. ‘And I know you’re responsible for that.’

‘Yes, it was always at the top of my list when I was head of security at Harte’s.’

At this moment Evan’s mobile phone began to ring; she reached into her pocket and pulled it out. Bringing it to her ear, she said, ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Evan honey, it’s me,’ Owen said.

‘Dad! Hi! It’s nice to hear your voice.’ As she spoke she walked away, giving Gideon a wide smile, went to sit on a drystone wall. She watched the three men as they moved on, talking between themselves in an animated way.

‘I can’t wait for you to get here. I’m dying to see you and Mom,’ she continued.

‘We’re here already, honey,’ Owen announced, a chuckle in his voice.

‘You are! But why didn’t you let me know you were coming earlier?’ she exclaimed, startled by this news but not unduly put out. ‘When did you get to London, Dad?’

‘Wednesday night. Three days ago. I decided to change the date so we could recover from our jet lag before we started running around. Anyway, we’d love to see you today if you can make it. Your mother’s excited about your new apartment, and so am I. We thought we’d come over later.’

‘Oh Dad, it would have been great, but I’m not in London. I’m in Yorkshire.’

‘Oh, are you working up there?’ he asked.

‘No, not today, not on Saturday. I came up for a few days of rest, and I’ll be here until next Wednesday, since I do have to help India with certain things at the Leeds store. I have to spend three days there, so I guess I won’t see you until next Thursday, which is when I get back.’

‘I see.’ He sounded disappointed, his voice suddenly flat. ‘Too bad, honey,’ he added. ‘Thursday it is then.’

‘I’m so sorry, Dad. I didn’t know you were coming early and I made my plans around your original date. Gee, I don’t know if I can change things –’ Her voice trailed off as she wondered how to reschedule everything; she knew she couldn’t do so, at least not very easily.

‘Your mother wants to talk to you, to say hello, Evan.’

‘Put her on, Dad.’ A moment later she was exclaiming, ‘Hi, Mom, it’s so good to hear you. How are you?’

‘I’m very well these days, Evan,’ her mother said, her voice loving and warm. ‘I gather you’re not around.’

‘No, I’m in Yorkshire. I didn’t expect you until next week.’

‘I know, I know. I told your father you’d probably be busy, but you mustn’t worry about us. We’ll see you as soon as you return. At least, I hope we will.’

‘Absolutely. The hotel’s nice and cosy, isn’t it, Mom? I know George and Arlette must’ve made you very comfortable there, haven’t they?’

‘Yes to both your questions. They miss you, of course, now that you’ve moved out. But I don’t blame you, it’s nice to have a place of your own, isn’t it, Evan?’

‘Yes, it is,’ she laughed. ‘Oh Mom, I can’t wait to get back to town now I know you and Dad are there.’ She meant this, and she was particularly pleased that her mother sounded so normal. That was the only word for it. Normal. And yes, happy. Actually happy. She who was always depressed.

They went on talking for a few more minutes, and after promising to phone them at the hotel tomorrow, Evan clicked off the cell. She hurried after Gideon and the others, whom she could just see in the distance, heading for the front gates of Pennistone Royal.

It was true, she was glad her parents had arrived in London. She hadn’t seen them since January, and it was now August. Eight months in which so much had happened. Her life had changed in many different ways. And, in a sense, she had changed. She was a different person. She couldn’t wait to see them, but at the same time she was slightly apprehensive. Although she and Robin had agreed, only a few days ago, that she would not tell her father about him, there were, nonetheless, many other things she had to discuss. Difficult things.

Tessa stood at the window of her bedroom, looking down at the driveway, her eyes on Jack Figg. He stood talking to Gideon, gesticulating, obviously explaining something to him and to Desmond who was with them.

She guessed it had to do with security. Jack had brought in a number of experts since Adele’s disappearance on Wednesday, and for the past few days scores of men had been digging, laying cables, hauling in cameras and monitors and all manner of other devices. Linnet said they had been invaded by an army, and that’s how it seemed to her, too. Parts of the estate had been mangled, but she didn’t care about the mess they had made. Things could be put right once they had completed their task and left; Wiggs had told Linnet and her not to worry about it. And so she wasn’t going to, kept reminding herself the most important thing was that Pennistone Royal was being made impenetrable.

Turning away from the window, Tessa moved through the bedroom and went into her small sitting room which adjoined. She glanced around, as always filling with pleasure when she was in this intimate room, loving the way it looked. The walls were primrose, there were yellow-and-red draperies at the windows made of a toile de Jouy cotton, and the small loveseat next to the fireplace was upholstered in a yellow-and-white flower print. It was a cheerful, sunny room, and it had been hers since she was a little girl; it was her safe haven now as it had been then.

She paused in front of the Victorian mirror hanging on the side wall, staring at herself, not liking what she saw. She felt totally drained and she realized she looked it; her face was a ghostly white and there were dark smudges under her eyes. Because she had not eaten much over the last few days her face seemed narrower, and it was taut with lingering tension. Only her silver-blonde hair was as beautiful as it always was.

Sighing under her breath, moving away from the mirror, Tessa went and sat down at her desk, the French bureau plat which had stood in the same spot for as long as she could remember. Next to the big yellow porcelain lamp was a photograph of Adele taken earlier in the summer, and she reached out, touched the child’s image with one finger. An overwhelming feeling of the most intense love for her daughter surged through her and Tessa was more deeply aware than ever that her child took precedence before anyone on this planet, and certainly before anything else in her life.

Mark’s abduction of Adele had changed her forever. Tessa had understood that within a few hours of her little girl’s disappearance. Now she realized that in the next few days she would have to start assessing her entire life, in order to decide what to do, what changes to make. And there would be changes. She wasn’t prepared to sacrifice her daughter’s well-being for her career. Suddenly, being the boss of Harte’s one day lost its lustre, at least for the moment. Perhaps her attitude would change when everything settled down, when Mark had been neutralized, although she was sure …

A few gentle taps on the door interrupted Tessa’s chain of thoughts, and she exclaimed, ‘Come in!’

The door opened and Elvira’s face appeared around it. ‘Could I have a word with you please, Mrs Longden?’

‘Yes, of course, Elvira.’ Noticing at once that the nanny was alone, she asked swiftly, ‘Where’s Adele?’

‘She’s fine, Mrs Longden, perfectly safe. She’s with Margaret in the kitchen, giving a tea party for her dolls.’

‘I’m sorry, Elvira, you did tell me that was what you’d planned.’ Tessa forced a smile. ‘I think I’m getting paranoid.’

‘No, you’re not, and anyway it would be natural, wouldn’t it?’ Elvira hovered in front of the desk, twisting her hands together and looking worried.

‘What’s wrong, Elvi?’ Tessa asked, using the diminutive, hoping to put the nervous young woman at ease.

‘Mrs Longden, there’s something I need to tell you … I saw Mr Longden on Wednesday morning, just after leaving the estate. He was sitting in a car with another man, about halfway down the road, and he … well, he flagged me down. I think he recognized my car.’

Tessa’s eyes narrowed instantly and she asked in an urgent voice, ‘Who was the other man? Did you know him, Elvi?’

The nanny shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t, Mrs Longden. I’d never seen him before. Anyway, Mr Longden just said hello, told me he was on his way to see Adele, and asked if you were about or had you gone to the Harrogate store? And I said no, you were at Pennistone Royal, working in the library and that Adele was on the terrace playing –’ She broke off. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she tried to flick them away with her fingertips. ‘I wish I hadn’t stopped, just driven on, I feel so responsible for what happened.’

‘Oh, Elvira, you mustn’t. It wasn’t your fault,’ Tessa replied, her tone kindly. ‘But why didn’t you tell me before? After all, you were back on Wednesday evening, just when Mr Longden returned Adele. Surely that was the time to say something?’

‘It was, yes, you’re right, but you were agitated, and exhausted, and I was very distressed myself, thrown if you know what I mean.’

‘Today’s Saturday, Elvi.’

‘I know, but on Thursday and Friday you were ever so preoccupied and busy with Mr Figg. I didn’t really like to disturb you. I did keep trying to find the right moment, but there just wasn’t one. Besides, I was a bit afraid, to be honest, I felt very guilty about talking to Mr L. And I thought you’d be angry with me.’

‘Never mind all of that. Now, tell me, Elvi, do you think Mr Longden was parked down the road here actually waiting for you? Do you think he was expecting you to leave Pennistone Royal around the time you did?’

‘I don’t know, Mrs Longden, but I always have the same routine on my day off. I usually leave about ten or ten-thirty. And he knows Wednesday is my day off, I’ve always taken Wednesday ever since I began to work for you when Adele was a baby.’

Tessa inclined her head. ‘I understand, and let’s forget it. However, Elvira, if anything ever happens, anything at all, that you think is strange, you must tell me.’

‘I will, Mrs Longden, I will, I promise.’ The nanny attempted a smile but it didn’t quite materialize, and she added, ‘Well then, I’d better get back to Adele.’ Without another word she scurried out.

Left alone in her lovely sunny room which she had always loved, Tessa felt oddly alien and chilled, and just a little frightened once again. Mark had obviously planned the abduction very carefully, right down to the last detail … waiting for Elvira on the roadside, quizzing her, and then swooping in and scooping up Adele. While his accomplice, whoever that was, did all that dialling on a mobile phone. She shivered involuntarily, and bit her lip, and suddenly her eyes filled with worry.

After a few moments Tessa managed to calm herself and she made a vow to outwit Mark Longden. Whatever it took that was what she was going to do. Outwit him.

‘My parents are here,’ Evan said, staring at Gideon.

A look of genuine surprise crossed his face, and then his brows met in a puzzled frown. ‘I thought they were coming next week?’

‘They were. Dad changed the date, he said he wanted a chance for them to get over their jet lag. Anyway, they’re in London. At the hotel. That was Dad on my mobile when we were walking with Jack.’

Evan and Gideon were seated at the table under the old oak tree at the bottom of the lawns which sloped away from the back terrace of Pennistone Royal. Gideon Harte put down his glass of white wine and leaned across the wrought-iron garden table. ‘So when am I going to meet them?’ he asked. When she didn’t immediately answer, he said, ‘I am going to meet them, aren’t I?’

‘Of course. But I thought I’d better see them by myself first. On Thursday when I get back to London. It has been eight months and there’s a lot to catch up on, and I just think it’s better that I see them alone.’ Evan didn’t add that they might resent his presence, although she was thinking that.

‘I understand,’ he said, and went on swiftly: ‘Tell you what, I’ll take the three of you to dinner on Friday evening. Somewhere really nice.’ He spoke in a firm voice that forbade argument and looked at her very intently. There was a steely glint in his eyes.

‘That’ll be great,’ Evan responded softly, realizing it was better to acquiesce rather than refuse for the time being.

Gideon experienced a small stab of dismay at her lack of enthusiasm which was obvious and made him feel suddenly awkward, and he reached out, took hold of her hand. His green eyes bored into hers. ‘I know I’ve said this before, but I’m in love with you, Evan.’

‘I know that.’

‘And what about you? How do you really feel about me?’

‘I’m in love with you, Gideon,’ she replied, her voice suddenly intimate, very loving. ‘You know I am.’

He realized she was being sincere, and now he relaxed, smiled, squeezed her hand. ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you, as if you didn’t know that, and I want to marry you. I know I’ve said that to you before, but I’m asking you again … Evan, please marry me.’

There was only a fractional hesitation on her part before she agreed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I will, Gideon.’

‘Let’s tell your parents on Friday over dinner! Then it will be official and we’ll phone my parents in New York to give them the good news. Do let’s get engaged.’ Without waiting for her reply, he grinned and rushed on, ‘I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve had your engagement ring for ages.’

‘You have?’ Evan’s grey-blue eyes sparkled and she began to laugh. ‘Gee, you sure are sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ Her voice was teasing, full of laughter.

‘I could only hope, my love, I could only hope. Actually, I can’t give it to you at this moment, because it’s not in my pocket. But I wish it were, so I could slip it onto your finger immediately. Unfortunately, it’s locked up at Allington Hall.’

‘Well, at least it’s good to know it’s in Yorkshire,’ she quipped.

‘I’ll give it to you tonight, and can we tell your parents next week?’ he pressed.

Evan took a deep breath and blew out a few puffs of air. ‘I’d like to tell them when we have dinner, but I’m still a bit worried about the Robin–Dad situation. I haven’t made my mind up … I don’t know what to do about that yet.’ She frowned and shook her head, groping for words that would accurately describe what she felt. ‘I’m so ambivalent, and having to tell Dad that his father wasn’t his biological father is going to be –’

‘Let’s not go there, let’s not get things confused,’ Gideon exclaimed, sounding impatient. ‘Our engagement doesn’t have anything to do with Robin, your father and Richard Hughes.’

‘But it does, because my father –’

‘Evan, please don’t start with that whole business of us being related. My grandmother Elizabeth and your grandfather Robin are brother and sister, but that isn’t troublesome. A genealogical chart would show that we are cousins a few times removed. So what! In this country it’s not illegal to marry even a first cousin, so we’re certainly within the law. And I don’t believe those old wives’ tales about children of cousins being born afflicted with something. My parents are cousins, yet Toby, Natalie and I are perfectly all right. Not that you’ve met Nat yet, what with her being in Australia at the moment. But you can take my word for it, my sister’s as perfectly healthy and sane as me and Toby.’

‘Oh Gid, don’t get angry, please don’t. I do love you very much, and being related has nothing to do with it. I do want to marry you. It’s just that my father seems to bear a grudge against the Hartes, and I want to find out why that is, Gideon. Can’t you understand that?’

‘Yes, I can. I know it’s important to you that my parents like you, and they do. In fact, they really approve of you. However, please understand that even if they didn’t like you, I would still marry you. They can’t live my life for me, and I would never permit them to influence me about my choice of a wife.’ He frowned, his eyes scanning her face as he finished. ‘Don’t you feel that way, too? Surely you believe in your own convictions, your own choices, don’t you?’

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