‘He’d actually hurt my father?’ My fingers had twisted my skirt into a fan of tiny pleats.
For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he nodded slowly. ‘He stops at nothing to get what he wants honey, believe me.’
I believed him. I sat in a coma for the rest of that drive and, persuading Dave to drop me off at the farmhouse alone, I walked up the drive feeling as though the weight of the world were on my shoulders.
Mrs Dawson was in the kitchen and the place was full of sunlight and flowers with the kettle singing on the hob. But the house was empty without my father and I knew I was beaten.
Late that afternoon I went for a walk over my land and realised that I was saying goodbye. The bluebells still scented the shade of the oak woods and the marshland smelled of salt and sweet grasses and I stood for a long time watching the redshanks running about on the mud, their slender feet making light tracks which stayed a minute then vanished as if they had never been. ‘Forgive me,’ I whispered into the wind. ‘Forgive me, for what I’m going to do.’
I walked back slowly, the setting sun in my face, and made my way back home exhausted and defeated. Mrs Dawson was waiting for me by the gate, her kind face wrinkled with worry. ‘Miss Kate, you’ve been so long.’
‘I’m sorry. I had to think by myself for a bit,’ I said. Then I added hopefully, ‘Has there been any word from my father?’
Any word which would bring reprieve.
She shook her head. ‘Only Mr Richard phoned.’ The tone of her voice told me what she thought of him. ‘He said he was expecting you to dinner at the Manor.’
I dressed carefully in a long dress of palest eau de nil and piled my hair into a chignon. My car was still at Sally and Duncan’s house, but Richard had said he would send the Rolls and I found myself smiling faintly at the chauffeur as I stepped in, feeling like Marie Antoinette as she mounted the tumbril for her last ride through Paris.
Richard seemed to be alone in the study – as far as I could see the only room in the house which he used – and I glanced round, expecting to see Sara somewhere in the background as usual, but no; there was no one else there. I was not sure whether or not I should be relieved.
I looked him straight in the eye as he rose to greet me. ‘So, you’ve won. I suppose you think you’re very clever.’ I did not try to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
I was astonished at the way my heart had started to jerk uncomfortably somewhere under my breastbone at the sight of him. He was casually dressed in a cord jacket with a cravat at the open neck of his silk shirt and looked unbearably handsome. But I was determined not to be won over. ‘It must be marvellous to be so rich you can ride roughshod over everyone and everything,’ I went on relentlessly, ‘manipulating lives, as if they were pawns on a chessboard.’
He had begun to smile slightly and I could feel my eyes blazing with anger.
‘You are not a good loser I see, Katherine,’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps a drink would help a little?’
It was champagne.
I threw my purse down on a chair and took the tall tulip glass from him with as steady a hand as I could manage.
‘I may not be a good loser, Richard,’ I breathed, ‘but I’m not a stupid one. I have to have proof my father is all right before I sign anything at all.’
He was watching me closely and now he sat down on the corner of his desk. Putting his own glass down on the blotter, he folded his arms. ‘And you also want to see the colour of my money, of course.’
‘Of course.’ It hadn’t even crossed my mind, but I wasn’t going to let him guess that. My eyes were fixed on the spray of tiny bubbles rising from his glass, too small to stain the royal blue blotting paper beneath them as they landed.
He laughed quietly. ‘You know, Katherine, I’m almost disappointed in you. I had thought you would hold out to the death.’
I looked at him at that. ‘My own perhaps,’ I whispered. ‘But not my father’s.’
He picked up his glass. ‘Then let us drink to his recovery,’ he said smoothly. ‘What proof do you want that he is safe and well? Will your own eyes convince you?’
I nodded.
Without a word – he swivelled to pick up the phone on the desk. After a few murmured orders he turned back to me. ‘We have time to eat a quick dinner, then the car will call at your place so that you can collect your passport,’ he said, and he picked up his glass.
If only it could have been under different circumstances I would have enjoyed that flight in the executive jet across France. The sky was clear and starlit and the ground far beneath us bathed in silver moonlight as we cruised towards Switzerland and my father. It was too late to visit him when we arrived and a car whisked us into the centre of Geneva where hotel rooms were awaiting us, and I was shown with meticulous politeness to a private suite.
Exhausted, I fell asleep almost instantly and was only awakened by the chambermaid bringing a breakfast of coffee, croissants and black cherry jam.
Richard was waiting for me in the foyer. He greeted me with a brotherly kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s an hour’s drive,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ve rung the clinic and your father is expecting us.’
I had never been to Switzerland before, and the beauty of those circling mountains took my breath away. In spite of my determination not to unbend towards Richard in any way, I could not prevent myself exclaiming in delight as the hired BMW drove us ever higher. The clinic was huge, white painted and obviously excessively expensive, and my father, greeting us in the muted, flower-filled reception room, looked better than I had seen him look for years.
‘Richard, my boy,’ he said after he had hugged us both. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. I’ve been given a new lease of life!’ He turned to me and pulled my hair playfully. ‘I had got the impression from you Katie, that this chap was some kind of Machiavellian monster. What were you thinking of you naughty child?’
‘I can’t imagine,’ I said dryly.
We spent a couple of hours with father, wandering slowly in the gardens, and then we went back inside. As Richard said goodbye and went out to the car I lingered behind for a moment.
‘You really are happy to be here, Pa? They are looking after you?’ I asked.
He kissed me on the forehead. ‘Reichman is the best there is in his field, Kate. I couldn’t be in better hands. I don’t know how I can ever thank Richard. This place costs a fortune you know.’
I smiled. ‘He’s glad to do it, Pa.’
‘And you’re in love with him, Kate, aren’t you?’ He was looking down into my face, his eyes reflecting all the pride and joy he had always shown me. I opened my mouth to deny it, but I knew suddenly that it would spoil everything for him if I did. Instead, I managed to smile. ‘Perhaps a little,’ I said. ‘It’s early days yet.’
‘He’s a good man, Katie, you could do no better,’ he said hopefully. ‘And he adores you, you know, I can see it in his eyes.’
By tea time we were once more circling the airport back home. The Rolls was waiting outside the terminal. At the wheel was Sara, her hair glowing above a black shirt and tight white jeans. She was laughing as she saw us emerge from the building. ‘What, no cuckoo clocks and duty free brandy?’ she said as she gunned the car viciously into life. ‘I am surprised, Kate. And was the beloved parent alive and well?’
‘That is enough Sara!’ Richard’s voice cut like a whiplash across her sarcasm and she fell silent, but my eyes met hers for an instant in the driving mirror and I saw the flash of triumph in them with a sinking heart.
I asked to be dropped off at the farm, but Richard refused. ‘You have a small duty to perform before you go home, Katherine. A signature, remember?’
How could I forget?
At the Manor I headed for the study automatically, but Sara barred my way.
‘There’s a room for you upstairs,’ she said. She eyed my suit as if it were something the cat had dragged in. ‘I’m sure you would like to freshen up and change before dinne
r.’
I took a shower and slipped on the shantung dress which I had in my overnight bag. I brushed my hair down on my shoulders and carefully applied some make-up, then taking a deep breath I made my way back downstairs.
Richard was alone in the study. There was no sign of Sara, nor, I noted, Jacqueline. He too had changed and was now formally dressed in a dinner jacket. A new bottle of Krug stood already opened on the desk and when I appeared he poured out a second glass.
‘To our business deal,’ he said.
The windows were opened onto the twilit garden and I could hear a blackbird singing in the distance. The sound was somehow heart-breaking in its beauty.
‘Well,’ I said sharply, wishing I were not so conscious of how handsome he was looking. ‘Let me sign and get it over.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Calder should be here soon. He’s on his way down from London. He has the papers with him.’
I put down my glass untouched. ‘You should be feeling very pleased with yourself,’ I said sadly. ‘The fact that you are going to destroy so much that is beautiful and irreplaceable means nothing to you?’
‘Should it?’ He strode over to the window and glanced out.
‘Haven’t you enough money?’
Turning he looked at me. ‘Does anyone ever have enough?’
I closed my eyes, hoping I wasn’t going to cry. I had no arguments left.
John Calder arrived, dapper and cool in spite of his long drive, and produced a sheaf of legal documents from his briefcase. One by one they were put before me and one by one I signed, hardly seeing what I was doing through a haze of tears. Then all the papers were locked away in the safe behind Grandfather’s portrait on the wall.
Richard pushed a scrap of paper towards me as I turned away. ‘Don’t forget your cheque, Katherine. Better put it somewhere safe.’
I picked it up without looking at it and slipped it into my pocket.
Calder and Richard drank more champagne, and then the former took his leave, shaking hands with us both in turn. ‘I am so glad this has ended happily,’ he said as he made his farewells and he slipped unobtrusively from the room. Outside the blackbird was still singing.
Richard was watching me closely. ‘You look a little pale,’ he said. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t want any dinner. I’m going home.’
He was at the door before me, his hands on my shoulders. ‘I insist. You can’t disappoint the chef. Then you can go home.’
I was too tired and too miserable to argue.
Only when we were seated once more in the huge, gloomy dining room, lit by candles in the two silver candelabra, did I notice that Sara was still missing.
‘Isn’t your lady friend joining us?’ I asked wanly as Richard poured white wine into two crystal glasses.
‘She is not.’ His voice was suddenly uncompromisingly hard.
‘I can’t believe she approves of you dining with me alone,’ I said.
‘She has no say in the matter,’ he replied sitting down and picking up his napkin. ‘She’s locked in her room.’
I stared at him, shocked out of my apathy. ‘You’re joking!’
‘Am I?’ He met my gaze steadily for a moment. ‘I wonder.’
The door opened and a maid appeared with the hors d’oeuvres. Only when she had gone did I look at Richard again. His eyes were gleaming maliciously in the candlelight. ‘I hope you are going to eat this time. You’ve been picking at your food ever since I met you, and you are already too thin for my liking,’ he said.
‘Indeed,’ I retorted. ‘Well, if Sara is the shape you like, you can keep her. I’ll never have a figure like that!’
He looked thoughtful. ‘She is beautiful, that’s true, but stupid. Very stupid.’ He grinned. ‘And a real bitch.’
‘You haven’t really locked her in?’ I persisted uneasily in spite of myself. I wasn’t at all sure that he was joking.
One of Grandfather’s crested silver forks gleamed in his hand as he toyed with a minute curl of smoked salmon. He looked at me for a long moment, then he raised his glass. His face was alive with amusement.
‘I did. She has a vicious temper. I gather she told you I beat her,’ he went on conversationally.
I felt myself grow cold. ‘Do you?’ I asked.
He laughed and the sound made my skin crawl. ‘I always beat my women,’ he said softly.
There was a long silence in the room as, seemingly unconcerned, he continued eating.
‘I don’t believe a word you say!’ I said at last.
He looked up. ‘Don’t you? You should see your face!’
Despite my feelings, I smiled. ‘All I can say is thank God I am not one of your women, so I need never find out the truth.’
‘Ah, but you are,’ he said.
‘I beg your pardon?’ I stared at him.
‘You are one of my women, Katherine,’ he repeated softly.
‘How do you make that out?’
‘I’ve bought you, sweetheart. Body and soul.’ He laughed again and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
‘That cheque in your pocket,’ he went on. ‘Only half that money was for the land; the price I originally offered you. What do you think the rest is for?’
I stared at him for one full minute, then I reached into my pocket and unfolded the cheque, holding it to the candlelight so that I could read it.
It was made out for one million pounds sterling.
‘Don’t tear it up my dear, will you.’ His voice came from miles away beyond the glow of the candlelight. ‘You’ve signed now, and I shall not write you another one for less!’
For a moment I remained where I was, paralysed, then I pushed my chair back and stood up. ‘You’re crazy!’ I cried. ‘Quite, quite crazy!’
Again that low, pleasant laugh. ‘Quite, quite possibly,’ he echoed, ‘but not too crazy to be able to collect what is mine.’
And with that he rose and began to walk towards me round the long table …
PART THREE
I found I could not move. Paralysed, I watched as Richard approached me round that long Georgian dining table, his face illumined by the flickering candles. My brain had ceased to function – then he touched me. His hands rested lightly on my elbows, and he drew me to him without a word. Obediently I lifted my lips to his and felt his kiss burning against my mouth. Slowly his arms slipped around me, holding me against him so tightly I could barely breathe, and I closed my eyes, feeling my whole body come unwillingly alive at his touch, powerless to resist him.
But somewhere, somehow, my mind was fighting back. This man was my enemy; however masterly a lover he was, however much I wanted him, nothing could change that. He was in search of conquest and only when I was completely his would his craving for power over me be satisfied. It was not me, Kate Parrish, whom he wanted. I had been a rival and I had to be completely defeated.
Besides, he was engaged. The thought broke the spell and at last I regained the power of movement. I began to struggle, pushing him away.
‘How could you!’ I managed to say. ‘Doesn’t it make you feel just the smallest bit guilty, making love to every woman who crosses your path, when you have a beautiful fiancée waiting for you in the States?’
He stiffened imperceptibly, then he let me go. ‘I no longer have a fiancée,’ he said, his voice cold. He walked across to the window and leaned out, his elbows on the sill.
‘You mean you broke it off?’ I asked incredulously.
There was a long silence. ‘You could say that she broke it off,’ he replied after a moment.
‘All right then, what about Sara?’ I flung at him. ‘Your mistress is upstairs in this very house!’
He turned and gazed at me. Then he began to shake his head in mock despair.
‘Mistress is such a quaint term; but are you going to make me get rid of all my women, Katherine?’
This time I could have moved, but I didn’t try. I wante
d him to kiss me again.
As his arms closed round me I heard the telephone ring in the distance. For a moment I thought he would ignore it, but reluctantly he pushed me away. ‘I’ll be back,’ he whispered, touching the tip of my nose with his finger, and he was gone.
Seconds later he reappeared. He looked mildly amused rather than annoyed. ‘It’s for you,’ he said.
The phone was in the study and, still dazed, I followed him and picked up the receiver.
‘Kate? It’s Chris. Can you get over here right away?’
‘Chris?’ For a moment I was non-plussed. Chris. My dependable, nice American Chris, ringing me at Kingley Manor? ‘Where are you?’ I stammered.
‘I’m over at your place. Mrs Dawson here told me where you were. Look, Kate, you’ve got to get back here quickly.’
‘Is something wrong? Is it Father?’
‘I’ll tell you when you get here.’
‘Chris? Chris, wait …’ I shouted, but he had hung up.
Richard was watching my face. ‘What’s wrong?’
Shaking my head, I was still staring at the phone. ‘I don’t know. I must go back …’
I expected him to argue, but to my surprise he offered to drive me home straightaway. Like me he obviously thought it must have something to do with my father.
At the farm he helped me out of the car. ‘Do you want me to come in?’ he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
I shook my head, and without a word he climbed back into the Rolls. ‘You know where I am if you need me,’ he said. ‘Remember the plane is there if you want to go to him,’ and he was gone.
I stood for a moment, watching the tail lights disappearing up the long tree-lined road back to the Manor, then I went into the farmhouse. Chris was sitting in the cosy living room, drinking coffee. There was no sign of Mrs Dawson. He rose as I went in, and I was enveloped in a huge bear hug. ‘Kate honey, have I missed you!’
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