‘Because I have to go to work, and so do you, and Elvira had to go home last night to look after her mother.’
‘What happened to Mrs. Wilson?’
‘She broke her arm and a leg. Fell off a ladder, apparently.’
‘Oh dear,’ Mark raised his eyes to the ceiling and rolled them in mock horror.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Jolles,’ Tessa said, turning around. ‘Thanks so much for coming in at the crack of dawn.’
‘’Morning all,’ Mrs. Jolles answered in her bright and cheerful voice. ‘Don’t disturb yourselves; finish your breakfasts. I’ll go and see to Adele.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gideon sat waiting for Evan in the large sitting room of the small hotel in Belgravia where she lived. From the moment he had walked in he had been struck by the decor, the refinement and good taste that abounded in the entrance hall and here.
Now, as he sat on the sofa near the fire, he glanced around, thinking how charming and well appointed the sitting room was. There were some lovely landscapes on the walls, and the entire ambiance was pleasant and restful.
Gideon sighed and stretched out his long legs. He was feeling a little weary today. It had been a trying week, and he had been burdened by so many different problems at the newspaper. The only good thing was that Christian Palmer was becoming more amenable about working for the London Evening Post again. It was all a question of negotiation, and settling the problems of the time off which Christian needed. His book was practically finished, and after that he would be at liberty to work for them. Possibly it would have to be part time, but Gideon and his father knew this was better than not having him on board at all.
His thoughts turned to Evan. She was such a special young woman he could hardly believe his luck. That he had found her was something of a miracle to him. He had fallen heavily, and he knew she had too; he had laughed the other day when she had called their coming together a coup de foudre, because he had thought the same thing earlier. When he had told her this she too had been amused. ‘Well, great minds think alike,’ he had murmured, squeezing her hand. She was not only lovely to look at but charming, and bright and intelligent, and they always had fun together. He never felt bored with her, as he had with so many other women; they were compatible on every level.
There was one thing that worried him about her and this was her occasional sadness. It seemed to him that a strange melancholy overtook her at times, and he couldn’t help asking himself what caused that sudden change in her. Though they had not discussed it, Gideon thought it had nothing to do with them, but sprang from another area of her life.
A moment later she was walking into the sitting room, her face full of smiles, her cheeks dimpling prettily as the smile grew wider.
Gideon jumped to his feet as she stopped. She kissed him on his cheek, and then said, ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I was late at the store.’
‘That cousin of mine is a genuine slave-driver!’ he murmured, squeezing her arm.
‘She is a bit, but I don’t mind,’ Evan replied. ‘I’m inclined to be a workaholic, as you well know. I’m late because I decided to change after all, even though you said it didn’t matter.’
He smiled, glanced at her appraisingly. ‘You look wonderful, but then you always do. Come on, I’m starving, I can’t wait to get a knife and fork into some wonderful roast lamb.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ Evan asked as he led her out of the sitting room, through the hall and out into the street.
‘The Dorchester. They have the best roast leg of lamb and roast beef in London.’ Gideon raised his hand, flagged down a taxi, and helped her in. After giving the cabbie the name of the hotel, he took her hand in his and kissed it. ‘I’ve missed you.’
Evan turned to him, raising a dark brow. ‘But you saw me yesterday.’
‘I know. But I’ve still missed you in the meantime.’
Smiling to herself, she leaned back against the leather seat, wondering if she should tell him she had missed him too. She missed him whenever they were not together; it was, in fact, a state of affairs that was entirely new to her. But she remained silent.
Within a few minutes they were pulling up in front of the hotel, and the doorman, dressed in green with a tall hat, was opening the cab door and helping her out. ‘Evening, madame,’ he said in a friendly voice.
‘Good evening,’ Evan answered, and went up the steps, stood waiting for Gideon as he paid for the taxi.
Inside the hotel, he guided her to the cloakroom, and once they had checked their coats they went across the hall to the Grill Room. Instantly, they were seated, and Gideon looked at her and asked, ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘A glass of white wine would be nice, thank you.’
Beckoning to a waiter, Gideon ordered her a glass of white wine, and a vodka and tonic for himself. When they were alone he confided, ‘I’ve had such a heavy day, I need a good strong drink. But I’m happy to say I think Christian Palmer is now seriously thinking about coming back, if only part time. We’ll be glad to have him.’
‘Oh that’s wonderful. I’m so pleased for you, Gideon. You’ve wanted this so much.’
‘And Dad has, too. We’re kind of chuffed about it…that means, well…pleased, in case you didn’t know.’
‘But I did. My grandmother often used it, especially when I was growing up and did something she deemed was wonderful. That’s when she would tell me she was chuffed.’
Their drinks materialized; Gideon lifted his glass, touched hers, and said cheers. And so did Evan.
The Grill Room was busy tonight. Gideon glanced around, but there was no one there he knew. Turning to Evan, he said, ‘The trolleys over there have the best roasts. Are you going to join me in the roast leg of lamb?’
‘I think I will’
‘And to start?’
‘Oysters.’
‘Snap. I’m having the same.’
Now it was Evan’s turn to look around, taking in the surroundings. She liked this room with its dark wood furniture, large tapestries hanging on the walls, its sense of timelessness, its very Englishness. ‘You come here a lot, don’t you, Gideon?’
‘Yes, I do. I like the English food they serve–the roasts, the wonderful soups, the potted shrimps and the oysters. But quite aside from the food, it’s sort of…well, a family hotel. I don’t mean it belongs to the O’Neill hotel chain that Shane owns and operates, but family in the sense that we’ve all favoured the Dorchester for donkeys years.’
‘Oh really, why is that?’
‘From what I understand, it goes back to the years during the Second World War. My great-grandmother used to come here all the time, as did most of the elegant uppercrust Londoners. My father told me that it was considered to be the safest hotel in London because of the way it was built. In any event, she came often, and so did her brothers, and the O’Neills. It’s kind of—’
‘A home away from home,’ she suggested, cutting across him.
‘That’s right,’ he answered with a laugh.
The waiter came and Gideon ordered for them both, and then he turned to Evan and said quietly, ‘There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about, Evan, but I haven’t really dared. Now I think we know each other well enough, and it is something that troubles me.’
‘But what is it? And of course we can discuss it, Gideon.’ She stared at him intently, a worried expression settling in her eyes, wondering what it was that troubled him. When he remained silent she touched his hand lightly, and said, ‘I’ve felt right from our first date that we could talk about anything, tell each other anything…say what you’re thinking, Gid.’
‘There are times when I seem to lose you, Evan,’ he began, taking her hand in his. ‘What I’m trying to say is that there are occasions when you become pensive, melancholy really, and you seem to drift off to a faraway place. I don’t seem able to reach you for a while. In fact, it’s only when you come out of it that we’re normal again. It is troubling, and I was w
ondering…well, is there something worrying you?’
‘Not about us, or you, if that’s what you mean,’ she was quick to reassure him. Clearing her throat, she added, ‘I do worry about my mother quite a lot. Perhaps that’s what you’re detecting in me.’
‘Possibly.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Why do you worry about your mother? Is there something wrong with her?’
Taking a deep breath, Evan answered, ‘My mother suffers from depression. She’s on medication all the time.’
‘Oh Evan, I’m so sorry,’ he murmured, his voice sympathetic. ‘Is this a recent ailment?’
‘No, Gideon, it isn’t. Mom’s been depressed for as long as I can remember, from when I was a small child. It was after my parents adopted Angharad…that’s when her mood swings began. At least, that’s how I remember it. And that’s why my grandmother, Glynnis, used to come and stay, to look after us, and look after my father. I worry about him a lot too.’
‘I’m sure you do. That kind of illness is hard on a family, as well as on the sufferer.’
‘Do you know something about it?’ she asked.
‘Not really, but I do know a couple of people who are manic depressives, old friends of mine, and of course I’ve read about famous people who were sufferers. Sir Winston Churchill for one. He called his depression Black Dog. He fought against it all of his life…that’s why he had such a rigorous routine, kept himself extremely busy, hoping to sidestep his depression, I guess.’
‘I understand.’ Evan shook her head, looked away for a moment, and then told him in a low, confiding voice, ‘I often worry that I might get to be like my mother…do you think that’s why I keep myself so terribly busy, why I’m a workaholic?’
‘Out of fear?’ he asked. ‘Fear that you might have inherited it, that you might become a depressive too?’
‘Yes.’
Gideon made a face, shook his head. ‘I’ve got to admit I don’t know the answer. But my family are all workaholics, over-achievers, and none of them suffer from depression. I don’t, and I’m just like you when it comes to work.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Try not to worry so much about your parents. They have each other, and presumably take care of each other. Your mother’s not in hospital, is she?’
‘Oh no, she’s at home. And there are days when she’s much better—’
Evan broke off as the waiter arrived to serve their plates of oysters. When he had done so and they were alone, Evan murmured, ‘I hadn’t realized I was drifting off like that when I was with you, Gid, I’m sorry.’
‘No need to be sorry. Anyway, talking about it has cleared the air. Now that I understand it makes everything easier.’
Between swallowing the delicious Colchester oysters they talked about other things, but at one moment Gideon said, ‘Is Tessa still being difficult with you?’
Evan shook her head. ‘It’s not that she was ever difficult. Well, to be honest, she was a bit uppity. These days she just sort of…ignores me.’ Evan began to laugh. ‘I don’t care. It worries India at times, and Linnet also, but I told them her attitude is not important. I don’t work directly with her. And Linnet and India are both wonderful to me.’
‘I know. Tessa’s like that with everybody. She has a superiority that is most annoying,’ Gideon explained. ‘It doesn’t mean anything, so don’t personalize it. Mind you, I bet she’s a bit jealous that Linnet has another assistant.’
‘That’s what India said the other day.’
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying working at Harte’s, enjoying my cousins.’ He grinned at her. ‘They’re the best–kind, loving, nice to be around, aren’t they?’
‘I’ll say! And we have a lot of fun together when we’re working. They’ve made me feel at home. I hope Linnet’s going to keep me on after the retrospective’s finished. It would be hard for me to work anywhere else after being with them at Harte’s.’
‘I’m sure you don’t have to worry,’ Gideon reassured her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Toby Harte sat listening most attentively to everything his cousin Tessa Fairley was saying. He always thought of her as Fairley rather than Longden, and he suspected this was because he was not a huge fan of her husband Mark Longden.
When she finally paused for breath, Toby asked with a frown, ‘Why are you suddenly so interested in drugs? You of all people, Miss Goody Two Shoes. Do you have a suspicion Mark is on something? Is that it, Tessa? There can’t be any other reason.’
Although she was taken aback by this statement, she realized she ought not to be. Toby was one of the shrewdest people in her orbit, and he knew her intimately, better than anyone.
Clearing her throat, she said, ‘I’m not really sure that he’s on drugs, to be honest, Toby. But he could be. He came home a couple of nights ago in a very strange state. Glassy-eyed, erratic, extremely belligerent, trying to pick a quarrel. He’d been drinking, I knew that. He was quite drunk, I’d say—’
‘In vino veritas, eh?’ Toby cut in, raising a dark brow.
‘Perhaps. And yet I was suspicious because he was somehow…well, different.’
‘Did you question him about his behaviour the next morning?’
‘Oh yes. He said something ridiculous about having taken cold pills, and that he had then had several drinks on the train. He suggested the combination must have created a problem. I certainly didn’t believe that story.’
‘I don’t blame you. Neither do I.’ Toby stood up, walked across Tessa’s office, stood looking out of the window which fronted onto Knightsbridge far below. After a moment contemplating Mark Longden, he swung around, and said, ‘You mentioned he’d had drinks on the train. Where had he been?’
‘To see a new client. In the Midlands. He sounded rather chuffed about that. It’s a big architectural job for him. A grand house, apparently, according to what he told me. The client’s filthy rich, so Mark said.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘William Stone. Some sort of tycoon, I think.’
‘Never heard of him.’ Toby shrugged. ‘Not that that means anything. There’s a lot of wealth around these days that nobody knows anything about.’ Toby strode back to the chair opposite Tessa’s desk, sat down and continued, ‘If he was on something, it was more than likely a designer drug rather than anything else. Probably ecstasy, that’s still very popular.’
‘What exactly is it?’ Tessa asked, riddled with curiosity.
‘Ecstasy’s a party drug, and popular because it creates a rush, a high, very quickly, so I’m told. But it can be hallucinogenic, and even creates paranoia in some people. Basically, it’s a stimulant.’
‘Is it hard to get?’
‘Not if you know where to go.’
‘Mark doesn’t seem a likely candidate for drugs. He works very hard, and he’s made the firm a success.’
Toby nodded, then smiled at her, aware of how troubled she was. ‘Perhaps he was just very, very drunk, darling,’ he suggested, wanting to make her feel better.
‘Maybe you’re right. Nevertheless, he was awfully weird.’
Gazing across the desk at her, it occurred to Toby that she did not look well this afternoon. Her delicately wrought face was drained of all colour; this combined with the halo of silvery-blonde hair made her look like a pale ghost, extremely frail. But perhaps it was the black suit she was wearing; the colour certainly emphasized her extreme pallor and delicacy. And yet there had always been a certain fragility about Tessa, which is one of the reasons he had fallen so easily into the role of protector when they were children. Despite this physical frailness, however, she was strong mentally.
Toby knew how tough Tessa could be, and she had a will of iron. He admired his cousin and he had always loved her. To Toby her only fault was her inability to disguise her true feelings in certain instances, most especially when it came to her sister Linnet. She was competitive with her, seemed to have no idea how to conceal this. The art of dissimulation, apparently one of their great-grandmother’s most important as
sets, had seemingly escaped Tessa.
‘You’re suddenly very quiet, Toby.’
‘I was thinking about Mark. He wasn’t abusive, was he?’ Toby sounded worried and his dark eyes reflected a sudden fierceness.
‘Oh no, nothing like that!’ she lied. It would embarrass her to tell Toby the truth. Knowing him as she did, she was aware he would seek Mark out, take him to task, or worse, beat him up. Toby had always defended her and nothing had changed there. They were not only cousins and best friends, but cohorts in business, with many well-laid plans for their future together in the Harte empire.
‘Now you’re suddenly quiet,’ Toby remarked, staring hard at her.
Tessa gave him the benefit of a wide and loving smile. ‘You know how mad you get when someone reminds you that you don’t look like a Harte?’
‘Oh yes, the changeling, that’s me,’ he muttered sarcastically.
‘I saw a photo recently of Emma’s father, Big Jack Harte, and that’s who you look like, Toby.’
Startled, he gaped at her, then said, ‘I do?’ He sounded doubtful. ‘Are you sure?’
Tessa didn’t answer. Instead she opened her desk drawer and took out an ancient photograph of a tall, well-built, darkly handsome man standing next to a younger man in Royal Navy uniform. It was obviously father and son since they resembled each other. She handed the picture to Toby.
He stared down at it with interest, then lifted his head, looked at her. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘I took it out of an old photograph album in the library at Pennistone Royal a few weeks ago. I was up in Yorkshire, visiting the Leeds and Harrogate stores, and I spent the night there. I was alone, except for Emsie, who was doing her homework, and I went to the library to browse. Actually, I was hoping to find a few pictures of Aunt Edwina when she was young. That’s when I came across that particular photograph. I was instantly aware of the striking resemblance you bear to the older man in particular.’
‘How do you know it’s our great-great-grandfather?’
‘Look on the back.’
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