‘I think so,’ Evan whispered hoarsely, touching her neck, then looking at her fingers. ‘He cut my neck,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘He drew blood.’
‘So I can see.’ The young woman hunkered down, stared into her face. ‘Do you think anything’s broken?’
‘No. One of them kicked me in the thigh and the side, the others hit me on my back and stomach. But I guess I’m okay.’ Evan swallowed, tried to sit up, but found it difficult.
‘Here, let me help you.’ The young woman put an arm around her and somehow levered her to her feet.
Evan leaned against her for a moment, trying to gather her swimming senses. She began to cough; her throat felt dry and she coughed again, holding her hand to her face. Finally, she straightened and looked at the young woman. ‘Thank you. I think you saved me from being badly hurt.’
‘I’m glad I was around to help. Can you stand? Do you think you’re really all right?’
Evan nodded. ‘Sure. My legs are a bit wobbly, but I’m fine, honestly. Please, tell me your name, I’d like to—’
‘No, no, that’s not necessary,’ the young woman answered, giving her a quick smile. ‘I’m just glad you’re all right.’ She hurried off, obviously wanting to go about her own business.
For a moment or two Evan leaned against the wall, and then she looked down at her beige trousers, brushed the dirt off, started to walk. She was shaken up, and nervous, could hardly walk steadily, but she had no choice but to do so if she wanted to get home.
Spotting a taxi at last she flagged it down, told him where to go and got in, leaning against the seat, filled with relief. Tentatively, she touched her neck, saw blood on her fingers again, and groping around in her pocket she found a tissue. She pressed it to her neck, endeavouring to steady herself.
When the taxi pulled up in front of the small hotel, Evan saw Gideon standing on the steps, looking up and down the street, obviously wondering where she was.
She got out, moving slowly towards him, explaining, ‘I’ve been mugged. Could you please pay the cab-driver, Gid.’
He was horrified. Grabbing hold of her, he held her against him, took a ten pound note out of his pocket and gave it to the cab-driver. Then he led her inside, concerned, solicitous, and seething that this had happened.
‘I have to sit down a minute,’ she said, as they went through the entrance foyer, and indicated the sitting room. ‘Let’s go in there.’
The room was empty, and Evan sank onto a sofa, stared at Gideon who was hovering over her anxiously. ‘What happened? Are you up to telling me?’
‘Yes, I am. But could you please get me a glass of water first, my throat feels so dry.’
He nodded and disappeared, returning a moment later with a glass of fizzy water. ‘Would you like a brandy? Would that help?’
‘No, thanks, this is fine.’ She took a long swallow, looked at Gideon and burst into tears.
‘Oh darling,’ he said, sitting down next to her. ‘I’m so sorry this happened to you. London’s become such a dangerous city. Muggings happening in broad daylight like tonight.’ He gave her his handkerchief and she dried her eyes, then pressed it against her neck.
‘He cut me,’ she muttered, taking the handkerchief away. ‘Is it a bad wound?’
Gideon leaned closer, examined her neck. ‘Thankfully, it’s just a nick. Are you sure you’re not hurt? Do you want to go to Emergency?’
‘No, no, I’m okay! I am, Gid, honestly. They kicked me, punched me, took my briefcase and my bag. And one of them made me give him my pearl earrings, and my Rolex.’ Tears sprang into her eyes again. ‘The earrings were my grandmother’s.’
He put his arms around her and soothed her, and when she was calm she was able to tell him what had happened. ‘The thug with the knife really frightened me,’ she finished. ‘I thought he was going to kill me. I was fortunate that the young woman came down the street when she did. She scared them off, they fled at the sight of her.’
‘You’re lucky she stopped to help, some people wouldn’t have,’ Gideon told her.’
‘I guess you’re right.’ Leaning back against the sofa, Evan went on. ‘Fortunately there wasn’t much in my handbag–makeup, a little money. My passport and credit card are in my room here. Linnet warned me ages ago not to carry too much unless I was sure I needed it.’
‘I’m glad she did.’ Gideon brought her close, held her in his arms. ‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, Evan. You’re the most precious thing to me.’ He stroked her head, and went on, ‘Perhaps we ought to go up to your room, look at your knees. You said they were hurting you.’
‘Yes, let’s go upstairs. Do you mind cancelling the reservation at the Ivy? I don’t think I’m up to going out. And we could eat here. You said you liked the dining room.’
‘That’s a good idea. Come on.’ Gideon stood up, helped her off the sofa, and putting his arm around her he led her to the lift.
Once they were in her room Evan took off her jacket and trousers, and sat down. Gideon examined her knees. ‘They’re grazed, that’s all,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing serious. Stand up, let me look at your back.’
She did as he asked, and flinched slightly when he touched it. ‘That hurts. He hit me in the middle of my back. But the more I think about it, the luckier I feel, Gid. I got away with a few scratches and bruises. I could have been seriously hurt.’
‘That’s true. But don’t stand here talking. Go and have a hot bath, it will help you ease the pain a bit.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Go on, scoot.’
She did as he asked, disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. Gideon sat down in the big easy chair in the seating area, picked up the phone and dialled the restaurant, and after cancelling his reservation, he switched on the television set. But he found he could not concentrate. His mind was awash with thoughts of the mugging, her lucky escape. It struck him as odd that the mugging took place so close to the store, but then there was no saying where they would happen these days. They were so prevalent they were becoming a nightmare.
He thought then of Jonathan Ainsley and sat up straighter in the chair, his eyes narrowing. Paula had called him dangerous and Gideon believed she was correct. Jonathan already knew about Evan, knew that his father had a grandchild. According to his mother, Robin was in the process of drawing up certain legal documents with his solicitors, in order to satisfy several demands Jonathan had made. His inheritance was in no way jeopardized, and he was totally aware of that.
On the other hand, might he not bear malice? Might he not want to hurt Evan in some way? Out of spite? A mugging could be arranged, couldn’t it?
Gideon pushed these thoughts away, not wishing to think that Evan had been a target. Better to believe this incident had been random.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
They were all assembled in the great Stone Hall of Pennistone Royal. The Hartes, the O’Neills and the Kallinskis…the three clans.
The men looked splendid in their dinner jackets, the women elegant in their evening gowns and jewels. And there was a feeling of festivity in the air as they mingled with each other and sipped champagne.
Paula, wearing a gown of pale green chiffon and Emma’s emeralds, slowly moved around the hall, speaking to everyone. Her brother Philip had arrived back from Paris the night before, and had been amazed when she had told him the story of Uncle Robin, Glynnis and the hidden letters. He stood with his daughter Fiona, here from Oxford, and Uncle Robin, chatting amiably with Evan and Gideon. Those two seemed joined at the hip, she thought, going over to speak to them all for a moment, and then moving on. She paused to kiss her mother Daisy and aunt Elizabeth.
Uncle Ronnie spotted her and waved, and she glided across to him. He was with his son Michael, Julian’s father, and they both planted kisses on her cheek and told her she looked wonderful.
‘What an occasion this is,’ Sir Ronnie said, beaming. ‘Finally they are to become engaged.’
Paula laughed. ‘It’s
fantastic’
Sir Ronald Kallinski drew her closer, and whispered against her ear, ‘I heard from my bankers in the City that Jonathan Ainsley has put his new company on the market. Apparently he’s about to return to Hong Kong. Permanently. That should please you, Paula.’
‘It does,’ she murmured, and as she walked on she felt as though a burden had been lifted, and so unexpectedly.
Everyone who had been invited had come, and, most importantly to her, Aunt Edwina was there. She was Emma’s first-born child, over ninety now, and the Dowager Countess of Dunvale. And what a countess she makes, Paula thought admiringly. Edwina was resplendent in purple silk and a necklace of diamonds, and looked every inch the aristocrat. ‘She’s something else,’ Paula murmured to Shane who drew to a standstill next to her.
‘Who is?’ he asked, putting his hand under her elbow.
‘Aunt Edwina. Doesn’t she look perfectly…wonderful.’
‘Yes, but then all of the ladies do. Come on, darling, let’s not stand here. We’ve something to do now.’
‘Yes, I know.’ She looked up at him. ‘I wish Grandy and Blackie were here.’
‘Maybe they are,’ he answered. ‘Watching over us.’
Together Paula and Shane walked into the middle of the Stone Hall, and were joined by Linnet, radiant in pale yellow silk, her red hair a burnished halo. She held Julian’s hand tightly, and he looked so proud of her. Within seconds the group was silent, waiting for Shane to speak.
‘In 1905, ninety-six years ago now, three ambitious young people living in Leeds became friends,’ Shane said. ‘Emma Harte, Blackie O’Neill and David Kallinski. They remained friends all of their lives, and it was always their hope, their dream that the three clans would be united in marriage. Tonight their wish is finally fulfilled. Let us toast their descendants, their great-grandchildren Linnet and Julian, who will soon be joined in holy matrimony.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Firstly, a word about this book. It is the fourth in the series which began with A Woman of Substance, followed by Hold the Dream and To Be the Best. Those chronicled the rise to power of three families, beginning at the turn of the nineteenth century in England. This novel picks up the story in 2001 with the current families, the descendants of Emma Harte, Blackie O’Neill and David Kallinski.
By popular demand I have brought back my most beloved character, Emma Harte, the protagonist of A Woman of Substance and Hold the Dream. To do so I had to return to the 1940s and the tumultuous war years in Great Britain at one point in this story. In order to give a sense of time, place, mood and historical events of that period, I have used as a leitmotif segments of the great rhetorical speeches of Sir Winston Churchill. Apart from being my own personal hero, I believe that it is to him we owe the survival of Western Civilization. Without his extraordinary leadership during the Second World War, when he fought appeasement of Germany, Nazi terror and the evil of Hitler, the world would be a very different place today. Certainly we would not have freedom, justice and the decencies of life we have come to cherish. We all owe him so much.
In a long and complex novel many people give assistance in different ways. I would like to acknowledge the debt of gratitude I owe to my friends Edwina Sandys and her sister Celia Sandys, the granddaughters of Winston Churchill. Edwina generously gave me twelve never-released discs of the great Churchillian speeches, which were invaluable. Her sister Celia arranged a private tour of the Cabinet War Rooms in Whitehall which was most edifying. I must thank Phil Reed, Curator of the Cabinet War Rooms, for being a most articulate guide.
My friend Jane Ogden is owed my thanks for being a patient listener and for sharing her memories of growing up during the war years. Susan Zito of Bradford Enterprises gave me enormous help with research and proof reading, and she knows how much I appreciate her involvement in all my novels. I owe a really big thank you to Liz Ferris of Liz Ferris Word Processing, who coped with a long and complex manuscript with great diligence, at top speed, and presented a meticulous manuscript.
I wish to thank my literary agents Morton Janklow and Anne Sibbald of Janklow and Nesbit, who have represented me since 1981, and have always been there for me. And thanks also to my long-time British editor Patricia Parkin, of HarperCollins, UK who has worked with me since A Woman of Substance, and thanks to my editor in the US Jennifer Enderlin of St Martin’s Press, New York.
Finally, but by no means least, I must thank my husband Robert Bradford, not only the greatest sounding board and intelligent critic, but my most enduring and loving supporter.
T H E T H R E E C L A N S
The Hartes shown in line of descent
Emma Harte: Matriarch: Founder of 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: 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 of Dunvale
Sarah Lowther Pascal: Daughter of ‘Kit’ and June Lowther
Jonathan Ainsley: Son of Robin and Valerie Ainsley
Paula O’Neill: Daughter of Daisy and David Amory
Philip McGill Amory: Son of Daisy and David Amory; brother of Paula
Emily Barkstone Harte: Daughter of Elizabeth and Tony Barkstone; half-sister of Amanda
Amanda Linde: Daughter of Elizabeth and Derek Linde (Elizabeth’s second husband)
EMMA’S GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN
Tessa Fairley Longden: Daughter of Paula and Jim Fairley (Paula’s first husband)
Lorne Fairley: Tessa’s twin, son of Paula and Jim Fairley
Toby Harte: Son of Emily and Winston Harte II; brother of Gideon
Gideon Harte: Son of Emily and Winston Harte II
India Standish: Daughter of Anthony Standish and Sally Harte, Earl and Countess of Dunvale
Linnet O’Neill: Daughter of Paula and Shane O’Neill (Paula’s second husband)
Chloe Pascal: Daughter of Sarah and Yves Pascal
Fiona Amory: Daughter of Philip McGill Amory
Emsie O’Neill: Daughter of Paula and Shane O’Neill
Desmond O’Neill: Son of Paula and Shane O’Neill
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
Toby Harte: Son of Winston and Emily Harte; Brother of Gideon
Gideon Harte: Son of Winston and Emily Harte
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 O’Neill (‘Blackie’): Founding father of 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
Linnet O’Neill: Daughter of Shane and Paula O’Neill
Emsie O’Neill: Daughter of Shane and Paula O’Neill
Desmond O’Neill: Son of Shane and Paula O’Neill
THE KALLINSKIS
David Kallinski: Founding father of dynasty and business empire
Sir Ronald Kallinski: Son of David and Rebecca Kallinski
Michael Kallinski: Son of Ronald and Helen ‘Posy’ Kallinski
Julian Kallinski: Son of Michael and Valentine Kallinski
About the Author
Ba
rbara Taylor Bradford was born in Leeds, and by the age of twenty was an editor and columnist on Fleet Street. Her first novel, A Woman of Substance, became an enduring bestseller and was followed by eighteen others, most recently Emma’s Secret. Her books have sold more than seventy million copies worldwide in more than ninety countries and forty languages. She lives in New York City with her husband, producer Robert Bradford.
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By the Same Author:
A Woman of Substance
Voice of the Heart
Hold the Dream
Act of Will
To Be the Best
The Women in His Life
Remember
Angel
Everything to Gain
Dangerous to Know
Love in Another Town
Her Own Rules
A Secret Affair
Lower of a Woman
A Sudden Change of Heart
Where You Belong
The Triumph of Katie Byrne
Three Weeks in Paris
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are he work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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