Just Rewards

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Shaking off his past, Jack strode toward the kitchen door, knocked, and walked in, exclaiming, “Top of the morning to you, Margaret—” He broke off when he saw Priscilla Marney sitting at the table with the housekeeper. He managed to keep his face neutral as he said, “And hello, Priscilla!”

  “Good morning, Jack,” she answered with a faint smile.

  It was Margaret who instantly jumped up, came over to him, a beaming smile lighting up her motherly face as she greeted him in a warm voice. “It’s a good job you’re here, Jack,” she said, taking his arm, leading him to the big deal table in the middle of the spacious kitchen. “I had a real problem buzzing Prissy in twenty minutes ago. I couldn’t make that there switch work. I think it’s on the blink, do you know. Anyway, I had to go outside and find Wiggs, send him down to open the gate. Do you think there’s a shortage or something?”

  “It’s possible, Margaret, and I’d say it’s rather fortuitous that I decided to do a check of the system here today, and only because I was in the area.”

  “It’s lucky for us, it is that, Jack! Now sit yourself down, luv, and how about a cup of tea?”

  “I wouldn’t say no.” As he lowered himself into a chair directly opposite Priscilla, Jack couldn’t help thinking that it was very fortuitous that she was here. Sometimes when things like this had happened in the past, he would tell himself: It was meant to be. It was as if some unseen but omnipotent hand had arranged things especially for him. And this was what he thought now. Here was the one and only Priscilla, at his disposal, so to speak, and all he had to do was think of the best way to draw her out. With a little luck, he might be able to trap her into spilling the beans. He smiled inwardly.

  Pushing a big smile onto his face, he said in a friendly, interested voice, “And how’s the catering business doing, Prissy?”

  “Very well, Jack, thanks. I’ve been extremely busy lately … No, I can’t complain at all.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You certainly catered Evan’s wedding beautifully.” He nodded and went on. “You grew up to be a talented lass, you really did. Why, I can remember when you were a gawky little schoolgirl in Scarborough. I often used to come across you at Heron’s Nest when I went over to see Mrs. Harte.”

  Priscilla stared at him, taken by surprise at this mention of the past. And Heron’s Nest. She simply nodded. And he wondered if he was imagining it: hadn’t her face paled slightly? Wanting to breach the little gap, Jack went on. “How’s your daughter? Samantha, isn’t it?”

  A smile struck her face now, and her dark eyes lit up. “Yes, it is, and she’s terrific, Jack, thanks for asking. I’m very proud of her.”

  “Oh, she’s a lovely girl,” Margaret interjected, bringing the cup and saucer to the table, sitting down, pouring Jack’s tea. “And she looks just like her father, Conner, the spitting image. God rest his soul.”

  Vaguely Jack remembered Margaret telling him some years ago that Priscilla’s husband had been knocked down by a bus in Manchester. “Such a young man, too,” Margaret had added at the time.

  Now Margaret said, “Do you want something to eat, Jack?”

  “No, thanks very much, though.”

  Sitting back in her chair, Margaret said, “Emily’s going to have the christening here—” She stopped, noticing the disapproving expression on Jack’s face, cleared her throat, and corrected herself quickly, saying, “Miss Emily wants to have it at Pennistone Royal because of tradition, and Miss Paula agreed. Anyway, it’s a better place than Allington Hall. Prissy’s doing the catering, of course.”

  “That’s why I’m here this morning.” Priscilla gave Jack a small smile and unexpectedly confided, “I’ve brought the proposals over, the plans and menus for Emily and Paula to look at this weekend. Oh, and I’m doing the wedding as well.”

  For a moment Jack was baffled. He frowned and asked, “Wedding? What wedding?” ,

  “Tessa’s, of course,” Margaret answered before Priscilla had a chance to respond. “Miss Paula told me last weekend that the divorce is more or less final. I believe Tessa will marry Mr. Deléon any minute now. In London, at a registry office. That’s the plan. But everyone will come up here for the reception, and to spend the weekend. So we certainly need Prissy.”

  “But he’s gone to Afghanistan. To cover the war,” Jack murmured, his brows drawing together in a jagged line. “I don’t think Tessa will be getting married just yet,” he explained.

  “Oh, but she will,” Priscilla cut in. “The minute he’s finished his assignment they’ll be married. Paula told me that on the phone only the other day. That’s why I had to draw up the second proposal. I’ve worked around the clock on it for the last few days. Paula wanted it by today because she’s arriving later this afternoon.”

  Jack simply nodded.

  Priscilla picked up her cup of tea, took a sip, and it was then that Jack noticed she was wearing a wedding band with a small sapphire engagement ring next to it. He now recalled that Margaret had mentioned something about Priscilla remarrying several years ago. He couldn’t help wondering if she was still married; if she was, perhaps that was the reason she was meeting Jonathan at Heron’s Nest. If she was meeting him, that is. Between her catering business, her daughter, and her marriage, she might be far too busy to meet him in London. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

  Unable to resist, Jack now asked, “You did get married again, didn’t you, Prissy?”

  “Oh, yes, but I’m separated from Roger.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, he’s not good enough to lick her boots!” Margaret announced, leaning forward, giving Jack a knowing look. “Can’t hold a candle to Priscilla, that he can’t.”

  Priscilla made a moue with her mouth and shrugged. “We all make mistakes sometimes,” she remarked. “It hasn’t worked out for me. Still, no harm done.” Quite suddenly she smiled, and it was a brilliant smile. “You know what they say, there’s more fish in the sea than ever came out of it,” she said, unexpectedly looking pleased with herself.

  “Hooked a good one, have you?” Jack asked before he could stop himself.

  Priscilla blushed scarlet but did not answer him.

  Jack decided she didn’t have to. Words were not at all necessary; her face told him the whole story.

  Margaret laughed. “Priscilla’s got a lot of admirers, you know, Jack, and you can see why.”

  “Indeed I can. And I must say I’m delighted at your enormous success in business. Mind you, Priscilla, you deserve it. The food at Evan’s wedding was delicious. And talking of Evan and weddings, will you be catering Jonathan’s? Or isn’t he getting married in Yorkshire?” As Jack asked this loaded question, his eyes did not leave Priscilla Marney’s face.

  Margaret exclaimed, “What?” Her eyes were wide in - astonishment.

  Priscilla said not a word. She sat staring at Jack, stunned. Her face turned a violent red, and just as quickly that brilliant color drained away and she paled, as white as bleached bone. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. There was only a strangled cry.

  Margaret demanded, “What did you say, Jack? That Jonathan Ainsley’s getting married? That takes the cake! Who is he marrying?”

  “Evan’s sister,” Jack answered, his eyes still pinned on Priscilla, who was now shaking like a leaf in a high wind. “Angharad Hughes. You know who I mean, Margaret. The platinum blond who was one of the bridesmaids. She was—”

  “Oh, God! Not her!” Priscilla screeched. “Not that ugly, vulgar American girl!”

  “Not so ugly anymore, so I’m told. Nor so vulgar either, according to Linnet,” said Jack, gazing at her.

  “What are you gabbling about?” Margaret asked swiftly, glancing worriedly at Priscilla and then back at Jack, shaking her head.

  He said, “I understand that Angharad and Jonathan are in Paris together. According to Linnet, who got it from … Paula, Angharad is now an elegant brunette dressed in couture clothes. And the expensive jewelry is also of t
he finest quality, at least that was what Linnet was told. I also understand they’re going off to Hong Kong, so he can ‘show her the sights,’ to quote Linnet quoting Paula’s source. Apparently he’s fallen head over heels for Miss Hughes.”

  “But she’s horrible,” Priscilla spluttered, tears coming into her eyes. Her mouth began to tremble, and she could not proceed.

  Jack said, “It seems her makeover, accomplished by the most talented of hairdressers, makeup artists, and couturiers, has been very successful. I’m told Angharad now looks like the young Audrey Hepburn. And let’s not forget, she is only twenty-three. Nothing like young flesh to turn on an old geezer like Jonathan Ainsley.”

  Priscilla cried out, but her words were unintelligible. She began to groan, and then she burst into tears. Bringing her hands to her face, she sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

  27

  Priscilla lay on the big sofa in front of the fire in the library. After helping her into the room, Margaret had put a match to the paper and logs in the grate, covered her with a tartan blanket, and brought her a brandy, explaining that it would help her.

  But Priscilla had taken only a sip, then put the glass on the coffee table. She felt nauseated, realized she wouldn’t be able to keep anything inside her, least of all the Calvados. She was still in a state of extreme shock.

  Jack Figg’s totally unexpected announcement that Jonathan, her Jonny, was with that awful girl in Paris had been the most terrible blow, the worst since she had been informed her darling Conner was lying dead in the morgue in Manchester.

  When Jack had said Jonathan was going to marry Evan’s sister, Priscilla was so stunned and hurt and upset she had completely lost control. Now they knew she had been having an affair with him; they couldn’t help but put two and two together. For a while, as she had lain here, she had been embarrassed by this, but that feeling had passed. She didn’t have to explain herself to them, or to anyone else for that matter. She was a grown woman; she’d done nothing wrong.

  Closing her eyes, Priscilla endeavored to relax, but this was impossible. She was still filled with unease. And then there was the jealousy … how insidiously it had crept up on her, filling her with hatred for the girl, and for him.

  How untrustworthy Jonathan Ainsley was, not to mention a dyed-in-the-wool liar. He had kept canceling their romantic rendezvous in Thirsk, first because he had been delayed in London on business. So he said. And then because he was in Paris. He had murmured sweet endearments to her over the phone, promising her so much, and all the time he’d held the phone, his other hand had been on the girl. Evan’s little sister. Twenty-three. Delectable. Young flesh, Jack had called Angharad Hughes. How right he was. What man in his fifties, especially a voluptuary like Jonathan, could resist her?

  Picturing them together in bed in his Paris flat sent a wave of hatred rushing through her. Bastard. He had promised to take her to Paris so many times, and he never had. The mere thought of him buying the girl expensive clothes and fabulous jewelry was too much for her to bear. She began to tremble. Despair, anger, hurt, and disappointment coalesced into a hard ball inside her. She began to weep uncontrollably. Pushing her face into the cushions, she sobbed until there were no tears left; then, exhausted, she lay still.

  Eventually, Priscilla discovered she was calm, and her self-control slowly returned. It was then that a cold and bitter detachment settled over her, and she contemplated revenge.

  Margaret sat on a small chair next to the sofa, holding Priscilla’s hand. “Are you feeling better?” she asked in a kindly tone.

  Swallowing hard, Priscilla nodded. “Yes, thanks, Margaret. I’ll soon be back to normal.” She forced a small smile. “Sorry I got so upset. You’ve been very kind.”

  “Jack says you went into shock. You did, you know, I agree with him there.”

  Priscilla merely nodded, said nothing.

  Margaret went on slowly, “Whatever made you get involved with him, luvvy? Jonathan of all people. He’s a bad lot.”

  Biting her lip, Priscilla shook her head. “I’d known him all my life … he sought me out at different times … pursued me, really. He was very flattering, even loving.”

  It was Margaret’s turn to remain silent. She just sat holding Priscilla’s hand, glad she was no longer weeping and moaning. Although she felt sorry for her in certain ways, Margaret was also silently chastising her for being such a foolish woman. But then more women fell for the bad lads than she cared to think about. She knew quite a few who’d toppled into that trap.

  There was a knock, and Jack appeared in the doorway “Do you feel better, Prissy? Can I come in for a few minutes?”

  “Oh, yes, that’s fine.”

  Closing the door behind him, Jack crossed the floor and sat down in an armchair, facing Priscilla on the sofa.

  Margaret immediately got up off the stool and made to leave, deciding it was better for Jack to talk to the caterer alone.

  “It’s all right, Margaret.” He glanced at the housekeeper. “You don’t have to leave. In fact, I think it would be a good idea for you to stay.”

  “If you want me to, Jack,” she answered and went over to the other sofa.

  “Yes, I do want you here,” he said. Smiling at Priscilla, his eyes filled with sympathy, Jack murmured in a warm voice, “I must apologize to you. I’m afraid I upset you greatly, blurting that out about Jonathan Ainsley the way I did. But I’d no idea you were in any way involved with him.”

  “Nobody knew,” Priscilla informed him in a low voice.

  “And why was that?” Jack gave her a keen, penetrating look.

  “He wanted to keep it a secret.”

  “I see.” He leaned forward, staring at her even more intently. After a moment, he asked, “Because you’re married ? Was that the reason?”

  “Not really,” Priscilla replied. She hesitated before adding, “He knew I was separated, and that I’m planning to divorce Roger Duffield.”

  “But why the secrecy? I don’t understand.”

  “He didn’t want the family to know about us,” she answered at last. “The Hartes.”

  “I see.” Jack now sat back, staring into space for a moment before saying, suddenly, “Did you never wonder why he insisted on keeping your. relationship a secret?”

  “Occasionally But, well, I … well … I wanted to be with him, so I just accepted it. Accepted his terms.”

  “You’ve been meeting him at Heron’s Nest, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” she responded laconically, looked down at her hands, shamefaced.

  “Why there?”

  “Because it meant something to him, and to me as well. You see, we’d first made … been together there when we were teenagers. So Heron’s Nest was special to both of us. It seemed to excite him, meeting there in secret.” She blushed, turned her head, gazed into the fire, wondering why she’d told him this.

  Clearing his throat, Jack continued, “Presumably he had a key?”

  “Oh, yes, ever since our teenage years. I believe he’d made a copy then, and Paula has never changed the locks.”

  Dismayed though he was about this lack of security, Jack kept his face neutral as he went on in a quiet but firm tone. “I have to tell you something very important, Priscilla. And I need your full attention.”

  Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’m listening, Jack, I really am.”

  “There’s a good reason why Jonathan Ainsley wanted to conceal your affair. He didn’t want Paula to know about you and him because he is her sworn enemy, a deadly enemy of this entire family, in fact. If Paula had known how close you two were, she would not have used you as her caterer and he would have lost his informant.”

  Sitting up straighter on the sofa, swinging her legs to the floor, Priscilla gaped at him, her face turning extremely pale. “But I wasn’t his informant!” Her eyes wide, her voice rising an octave, she added, “I swear I wasn’t! And you’re wrong, Jack, he wasn’t and isn’t an enemy of the family. I would have known.�
�

  “Not necessarily. Didn’t it ever occur to you that he never attended any of the family functions and gatherings?”

  “He always planned to come!” she cried vehemently. “He told me he was coming, but then he was suddenly called away, to Paris or Hong Kong. Or somewhere. I thought that was his life; after all, he is a big tycoon.” She shook her head. “I never, ever told him anything about Paula, or the family. I didn’t know anything. No one ever confided in me.”

  Jack got up, walked over to the fireplace, stood with his back to it enjoying the warmth. After a moment, he began to speak once more. “You must have told Jonathan at different times that you were about to cater a special event for Paula.”

  Priscilla could only nod.

  “So in a way you were a conduit to the family, if unintentionally so. He certainly knew when the entire family would be here at Pennistone Royal, for example.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, dismay lodging in her stomach. “That’s true. But I never knew he was their enemy. He always acted as if he were on the best of terms with them. You must believe me.”

  “He’s a clever chap, isn’t he, Margaret?” Looking over at the housekeeper, Jack smiled sardonically. “And dangerous.”

  “Oh, that he is,” Margaret agreed. “He’d love to kill us all off, that he would.” She gave Priscilla a hard stare, hoping her words had penetrated.

  “Never!” Priscilla cried, her emotions getting the better of her. “I don’t believe you! That’s not Jonny. You’re exaggerating, I know you are.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jack exclaimed coldly. “Margaret is telling you the truth, as indeed am I. There’s no reason for either of us to exaggerate or lie to you, Prissy. Jonathan wants to destroy Paula and the family, and that’s a fact.”

  Priscilla sat rigid on the sofa, hardly able to take this in. But she accepted, as she looked into his eyes, now blazing with anger, that. this man spoke the truth. She was aghast. How could she have been with Jonathan and not known any of these things? Not understood his evil intentions?