‘Oh Jonny, you’re always so nice to me,’ Sarah said, instantly cheering. ‘Everything you say is true, I just know it is. I will end up with Shane. And I am glad about our real estate company.’ She peered at him in the dim light of the car. ‘Am I really going to be as wealthy as Paula?’
‘Absolutely. I guarantee it. Incidentally, after Christmas Sebastian and I want you to come to our first real board meeting. We’ll show you the books, go over our various deals, explain the new ones that are pending. You may have to invest a little more money, but it’ll be worth it. Think of the dowry you’ll take to Shane. I realize that sounds old-fashioned, but don’t let’s be foolish enough to dismiss money in this instance. Shane O’Neill is bloody ambitious, and he’d never look twice at a poor woman. So…I’m going to make sure you are loaded, Sarah.’
‘What would I do without you?’ Sarah sighed, blissful at the prospect of her rosy future. ‘I’m feeling tons better now.’ She giggled. ‘It must be the thought of lording it over Paula in the not too distant future, and snatching Shane out from under her nose.’
‘That’s the spirit, Sarah! When should I arrange for us to get together with Sebastian Cross?’
‘Any time you like. And of course I’ll put up some more money. I trust you, Jonny, you’ve always been on my side, been my best friend.’
‘And as you have been mine, my pet.’
Within minutes Jonathan was turning into the gates of Pennistone Royal. As he parked he noticed the long line up of cars and realized they were probably the last to arrive. Secretly laughing up his sleeve at Sarah’s gullibility, he nevertheless managed to keep his face straight as he helped her out of the car, ran around to the boot to collect their gifts for their grandmother.
Puffed-up with self-congratulation at his adroit handling of his cousin, he put his hand under her elbow, arranged a suitably insouciant smile and escorted her inside.
Joe, the houseman, was on duty, and he wished them a happy Christmas as he took their coats. They returned his greeting. Jonathan’s sharp, ever-quick eyes darted around as he and Sarah went down the short flight of steps leading into the Stone Hall. The party was in full swing. Everyone was present. The air was filled with the sound of Christmas music playing on the stereo, and the high-pitched buzz of chatter intermingled with bursts of jolly laughter. The fire roared, the giant tree blazed with lights, and the familiar faces which turned to greet them were ringed with happy smiles.
Jonathan smiled back, nodded, but did not stop. He propelled Sarah on a steady course down the hall. He saw Paula sitting on the arm of Blackie’s chair, talking to the old man very earnestly, her face tender. If I exaggerated Rodney’s story to goad Sarah, I know I wasn’t far off the mark, Jonathan commented silently. I bet Shane O’Neill has got her where he wants her. In his bed. Good old Rodney. I owe him one.
Now Jonathan noticed Jim, trapped in the wheelchair, talking to Anthony. They had a strong look of each other. Fairley blood, he thought. He felt the sardonic laughter rising in his throat, almost choking him. He swallowed, made sure his charming smile was intact. As soon as Jim’s alone I’ll go over and talk to him, sow a few seeds of doubt in his mind about that holier-than-thou wife of his. In the meantime, I’d better find the old dragon, go over and genuflect.
Jonathan’s predictions to Sarah to the contrary, there were no dramas at Pennistone Royal that evening.
Emma’s traditional Christmas Eve party progressed without a hitch. However, Emily’s comment about Edwina being shocked to death when she saw the diamond necklace proved to be no exaggeration.
After the buffet supper had been served and eaten, and before the carol singing began, Emma distributed her generous tokens of her affection to her family and friends. They were thrilled and touched by their presents, recognizing the amount of time she had spent in selecting something extra special for each of them. Even the malcontents were pleased – Jonathan with his gold-and-jade cuff links, Sarah with the pearl-and-jade necklace she had received.
But it was Edwina who was genuinely stunned, momentarily rendered speechless as she gaped in amazement at the Fairley necklace. Observing her closely, Emma thought her daughter was indeed going to keel over from a heart attack. Instead Edwina collapsed in floods of tears.
After she had composed herself, Edwina began to realize that the Fairley heirloom she had been given was a gesture of unselfish love, that of a mother for a daughter, and she was more than thankful she had made the initial move to end her estrangement from her mother earlier. She remained at Emma’s side for the rest of the evening.
The happy mood prevailed until midnight. Only Paula felt out of it at times, when her thoughts turned to Shane. She was attentive to Jim and his needs, and chatted with everyone, but she constantly found herself gravitating to the O’Neills, needing to be in the midst of Shane’s family. Somehow it seemed to bring him closer.
Next year, she kept thinking. Next year. We’ll be together next year.
CHAPTER 39
It was a rainy night in the middle of January.
Jim Fairley sat in the Peach Drawing Room, sipping a straight vodka, gazing at his favourite painting, the Sisley he loved so much and longed to possess for himself. So rapt was he in his contemplation of it, he did not realize that Emma had appeared in the doorway of her drawing room.
She stood observing him closely.
Her worry about Jim was increasing daily, and she could not help thinking now that she was watching the slow but steady disintegration of a man. He had changed so radically during her absence abroad and over the last six weeks, he was hardly recognizable as the personable young editor she had first employed. She had tried to talk to him, but her words seemed to flow over him, leaving him untouched. He continued on his downward slide.
He was drinking steadily. Ever since she had chastised him about this a few days after Christmas he had endeavoured to conceal his tippling. Still, she was aware he was consuming great quantities of liquor – day and night.
She thought of his family. Every single one of the Fairleys had been drinkers. His great-grandmother, Adele, had fallen down the staircase at Fairley Hall in a drunken stupor, breaking her neck. The shattered wine glass had been scatttered around her body, on that dreadful morning when Annie, the other maid, had found her.
Emma frowned to herself. She wondered if alcoholism was congenital. Jim was not yet an alcoholic, but she was convinced he was well on the way to becoming one. And then there were the pain killers. He had not really persuaded her he had stopped taking pills. And yet she could not for the life of her imagine where he was getting them from. Continuing to study his face in profile, thinking how good looking he was despite the ravages of drink, medication and his physical pain, a phrase Blackie had used recently leaped into her mind. They had been at Allington Hall stables, looking over his string of racehorses. ‘The breeding’s there, but no stamina,’ Blackie had said, referring to one of his thoroughbreds. An appropriate analogy, Emma mused. Loath though she was to condemn Jim, it was apparent to her that he was weak, lacked strength of character. But had she not always suspected this?
Emma cleared her throat, said in a cheerful voice, ‘Good evening, Jim.’ She walked into the room purposefully.
She had startled him. He swung his head quickly. He gave her a half-smile. ‘I wondered where you were,’ he exclaimed, forcing a conviviality he did not feel. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t wait for you.’ He glanced at the drink. ‘But this is my first today, Grandy.’
That’s a downright lie, she thought. She said, ‘I was delayed on the telephone, but I’ll now join you in a cocktail before dinner.’
Pouring herself a glass of white wine, Emma continued, ‘I was just speaking to Daisy. She rang from Chamonix. They’re so sorry you’re not with them. David misses you on the slopes.’ She brought her drink, and sat down near the fire. ‘Daisy’s not much of a skier, as you know, and David is feeling lonely without you, his boon companion. Well, never min
d, you’ll be able to go with them next year, Jim.’
‘I sincerely hope so.’ He moved his broken shoulder slightly, gave her a quirky little smile. ‘It’s a relief to have this in a sling, I can tell you that, and Doctor Hedley’s going to take the cast off my leg tomorrow.’
She knew all about this, but faked surprise, not wanting him to know she was constantly consulting with the family doctor about him. ‘That’s wonderful news. You must start therapy immediately, get those muscles in shape again.’
‘Try to stop me.’ He gave her a long careful look. ‘Did Paula call you from New York today?’
Emma’s eyes flickered. ‘No, she didn’t, but I wasn’t expecting to hear from her. Surely she told you last night, when she called, that she was flying to Texas today. Sitex business, you know.’
‘Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten.’
Emma wondered if he really had, but let the comment pass. ‘Emily just told me that Winston’s coming to dinner after all. That’ll be nice for you, Jim, a little male company should cheer you up. It must be very boring for you – surrounded by women.’
He laughed. ‘You’re all very attentive, but it’ll be nice to see Winston, hear what’s happening in the outside world. I feel so cut off, and weary of this inactivity. I hope I can get back to the paper in a couple of weeks. What do you think?’
It struck Emma that this would be a wise move, and she said swiftly, ‘I’m all for it. I’ve always found that work is a wonderful cure for what ails me.’
Jim cleared his throat. ‘Talking of the newspapers, Emma, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for the longest time.’
‘Oh, and what’s that, Jim?’
He hesitated briefly, then said in a low voice, ‘When I came back from Canada in September, Paula and I had a bit of a quarrel about Sam Fellowes, and the instructions she had given him in my absence, you know, about suppressing the stories dealing with Min’s death.’
‘Yes, she mentioned something about it – her decision, not your quarrel.’ Emma gave him a questioning look.
‘Paula told me that she has your power of attorney, and Winston’s, to act on your behalf or his, if the need comes up.’
‘That’s quite true.’
‘I couldn’t help wondering why you didn’t give those powers of attorney to me?’
Emma sat very still, was silent for a second, and said gently, ‘Jim, when you resigned as managing director of the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company you forfeited your right to any power in that company, other than the editorial power you have as managing editor, of course. Since you said you were not interested in the administrative side of the newspapers, it seemed patently obvious to me that those powers of attorney had to rest in the hands of someone who was ready, willing and able to act, to take charge, if the situation arose – administratively take control, I mean.’
‘I see.’
Watching him closely, she saw his face stiffen in annoyance, his eyes cloud over with resentment. ‘You did resign of your own accord, Jim,’ she remarked evenly, in that same gentle voice.
‘I know.’ He took a long swallow of the vodka, placed the drink on the end table, stared into the fire. Finally he swung his eyes to hers. ‘Paula is also the trustee of my children’s shares in the newspaper company, isn’t she?’
‘She is.’
‘Why, Grandy? Why didn’t you make me the trustee for them? I am their father, after all.’
‘It’s not as simple as it seems, Jim. The shares which I am leaving to Lorne and Tessa are not in a separate trust, but in their overall trust fund into which I have placed many other shares from my different holdings. It seems clear to me that such a giant trust must be managed by one person. It would be ridiculous to have a number of different trusts, have each one handled by a different individual. Far too confusing.’
He nodded, made no comment.
Emma gave him a discerning look, recognizing that he was not only put out, but furious, even though he was doing his best to conceal this emotion from her. Whilst she knew she had no obligation to explain her actions to anyone, she nevertheless wanted to make him feel better about himself.
She said, ‘My decision to appoint Paula is no reflection on you, or your ability. She – and she alone – would be the trustee of her children’s trust fund whomever she was married to, Jim.’
‘I understand,’ he murmured, although deep down he did not. He felt he had been passed over. But then he had no one to blame but himself. He suddenly realized he should never have resigned as managing director of the newspaper company.
Ignoring his moody expression, his angry silence, Emma remarked, ‘If Emily and Winston have children before I die, and if I created a trust fund for their offspring, which of course I would, Winston will be in the same position as you are. So would Sarah’s husband, should she marry whilst I’m still alive. I’m not singling you out.’
‘I said I understand, and I do, Emma. Thanks for explaining things to me. I appreciate – ’
There was a tap on the door, and Hilda came in, said, ‘Excuse me, Mrs Harte, but Mr O’Neill is on the phone. He said that if you’re busy you can ring him back. He’s at Mr Bryan’s, in Wetherby.’
‘Thank you, Hilda, I’ll take it.’ She rose, smiled at Jim, ‘Excuse me, dear, I won’t be a moment.’
He nodded, and the minute he was alone he trundled himself over to the Regency sideboard and filled his glass with vodka, plopped in ice. He put the drink in his left hand which peeped out from the sling, then pushed his chair back to the fireplace with his right.
He drank half the vodka down quickly, so that Emma would not know he had refilled his glass, then sat pondering her words. Suddenly everything was clear to him. Emma was placing all of her power in the hands of her grandchildren. She was ensuring it stayed within the family. And absolutely so. He had thought he was family. He was an outsider after all.
Sighing, he lifted his eyes to the Sisley. The painting had always had a hypnotic effect on him. Again he wished it was his as he always did when he gazed on it. He wondered what exactly it was about this particular landscape that so enthralled him. There were other Sisleys in the room, and Monets. All were worth millions.
Suddenly, and with a small stab of acute horror, Jim understood. This painting represented wealth and power to him. That was the reason he coveted it – the real reason. That the Sisley was heartstopping, lyrical, a great piece of art which appealed to his sensibilities more than the others, was beside the point. His hand trembled and he put the drink on the table, closed his eyes, blocking out the painting.
I want the money. I want the power. I want it all back…all that my great-grandfather and my great-uncle so foolishly squandered or lost, and which Emma Harte took from the Fairleys. Instantly Jim was appalled at these thoughts and at himself. I’ve had too much to drink. I’m getting maudlin. No, I’m not. I’ve not had that much vodka today. I’ve been very careful about my intake.
The trembling seemed to seize his whole body, and he opened his eyes, gripped the sides of his wheelchair to steady himself. The image of Paula flashed through his mind. He had married her because he was madly in love with her. He had. He knew he had. No. There was another reason. He had wanted her because she was Emma Harte’s granddaughter. Wrong again. Emma Harte’s principal heir to her vast fortune.
For a split second James Arthur Fairley saw himself as he truly was. It was his epiphany. And he did not like what he saw in that intense flash of clarity. It was the truth. He did love his wife, but he craved her money and her power. He groaned aloud and his eyes filled. This sudden self-revelation was insupportable. He was not the man he had believed himself to be all of his life. His grandfather had brought him up to be a gentleman, to look to the higher things in life, to be unconcerned about material wealth and position. Edwin Fairley had brainwashed him. Yet secretly he had always longed for the power, the glory and the riches. There was a dichotomy in his nature. That was the true cau
se of his internal strife. I’ve deluded myself for years, he thought. I’ve lived a lie.
He groaned again and ran his hand through his hair. I love Paula for herself, I really do.
The nagging pain in his shoulder intruded and so insistently he winced in agony. It was the rainy weather. His shoulder was like a barometer. He groped around in his pocket for a pill, washed it down with vodka.
‘Blackie’s so excited,’ Emma said from the doorway, hurrying in, laughing gaily. ‘He’s making such elaborate plans for the Grand National. He’s taking all of us to Aintree for the steeplechase. It’s the first Saturday in April.’ Emma sat down, took a sip of her wine. ‘And so you’ll be able to come with us, Jim. You’ll be as fit as a fiddle by then.’
CHAPTER 40
‘What are we going to do, Shane?’ Paula stared at him, her expression troubled.
‘We’re going to take this one step at a time, get through each day as best we can,’ he said confidently. He gave her one of his reassuring smiles. ‘And we’re going to make it.’
They sat in her office in the Leeds store. It was an afternoon in the middle of April of 1970. Shane had just returned from a quick trip to Spain, where he had been to supervise the remodelling currently in progress at their Marbella hotel.
Now he edged closer to her on the sofa, put his arm around her, held her tightly in his arms. ‘Try not to worry so much, darling.’
‘I can’t help it. The situation hasn’t improved – it’s just worsened. And everything’s dragging on interminably. I’m beginning to think I’ll never be free of my problems.’
‘Yes, you will.’ Moving away, he lifted her face, looked deeply into her eyes. ‘We’ve both got innumerable business pressures right now, a load of responsibilities, and we’re just going to have to concentrate on those, keep ourselves busy, knowing that ultimately we’ll be together. And when we are it will be for always. Think of the future, Paula, keep your eyes trained on that.’
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