Nervous, even afraid, she wondered where her judgment had been. And her common sense. A fool for love, she thought disdainfully.
When she remained silent, Jack asked her, “Did you know about the problem at the church on the day of the wedding?”
“No. What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes widening.
Without answering her, he said, “But you did know the time was changed? You haven’t forgotten about that, have you?”
“No. They got married in the early morning, and Margaret said it was because Evan hadn’t been feeling well and everyone was worried about her condition … the pregnancy, the possibility of premature birth.”
“Those were worries, but not exactly the reason the time of the wedding was changed. The family were concerned, actually, they were afraid that Jonathan might attempt to do something to harm Evan and Gideon. So Linnet devised a plan, and how right she was to do so, as it turned out,” Jack said. “At two-fifteen in the afternoon, the original time of the wedding, part of the west wall of Pennistone village church blew out. Because a bomb had been planted in the church. During the night, we believe. We’re sure it was Ainsley’s doing, but naturally we can never prove it.”
Priscilla stared at Jack, shaking her head. “I went down to London on Sunday. I didn’t hear about the explosion.” She felt as though she had been hit in the stomach with a cricket bat. It took her a moment to get hold of herself. “It’s not possible, Jack. I know him, know him better than anybody. He wouldn’t do anything so wicked.” She was almost in tears again as she finished. “Why would he?”
“Because of his hatred.” Margaret spoke up. “He’s jealous and envious of Miss Paula, and of Evan, now she’s in the picture.”
“How do you know it was him?” Priscilla demanded, her eyes nervously swiveling from Margaret to Jack. “He wasn’t even in Yorkshire on the day of the wedding,” she protested. “So how could he put a bomb in the church?”
“You don’t think he’d be foolish enough to do his own dirty work, do you?” Jack stared at her intently, his eyes narrowing. “Surely you’re smarter than that, Prissy.” He shook his head, his face grave. “No, no, he employs people to do his bidding, not that we would ever be able to prove that either in a court of law.”
Priscilla now turned away from Jack and addressed the housekeeper. “Margaret, listen to me. You’ve known me most of my life, since I was a young girl. Please, talk to me straight,” she pleaded. “Is all of this true?”
“Oh, yes, luv, it is. You’ve been involved with a monster for years, I’m afraid, and more’s the pity.”
“But I didn’t know. I really didn’t, Margaret, Jack, I never knew, I swear to God I didn’t.”
Margaret felt duty bound to make Priscilla understand the seriousness of all this, and she said in a stronger voice than usual, “Miss Paula’s been worried for years that he would do her harm, and harm the family as well. Worried sick, she’s been. After Sandy fired Jonathan Ainsley, he turned against them, all those years ago, it was. You see, earlier, just after Mrs. Harte died, he’d begun to claim he’d been cheated in her will. Wasn’t true, that. I knows. His hatred has only grown. He is evil. And dangerous.”
Undone by these unexpected revelations, Priscilla was also now convinced that Jack and Margaret were telling her the truth. Unable to speak, sick at heart, she sat on the sofa, her arms wrapped around herself, feeling icy cold and numb. All this was a nightmare. What a stupid fool she had been. He had used her.
As if he understood exactly what was going through her mind, Jack moved across the floor, sat down next to Priscilla on the sofa. “You were duped, Prissy, I’m sorry to say.”
Tears came into her eyes. “I believe I was, Jack, but let me say once again, I never told him anything about the family … I only ever mentioned the parties I was catering, and then because I thought that he had been invited, that he’d be there. There was nothing else I could tell him. I didn’t know anything.” When Jack was silent, she pressed, “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, Priscilla.”
“I suppose Paula’s not going to use my catering services anymore …” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Jack questioningly.
He saw at once the fear in her eyes, and he understood how dependent she was on Paula for her business. For the first time, he felt a little sorry for her. “Perhaps not,” he responded at last. “I’ll explain everything to her. But you cannot be in contact with Jonathan ever again. You do understand that?”
“Whatever makes you think I would want to be?” she asked, her tone scornful.
He saw at once the vengeful look in her eyes.
Jack left the two women alone in the library and went off to check the main control box of the security system. He had said that this was his reason for visiting Pennistone Royal this morning, so why not make it the truth? Also, Margaret had mentioned that the switch in the pantry was on the blink. Maybe there was something wrong.
Walking through the kitchen toward the basement door, he stopped when his mobile phone rang.
“Jack Figg here,” he said, leaning against the deal table.
“It’s India, Jack.”
“Hello! I was going to give you a ring later, tell you what a clever girl you are. I’ve just had a long, productive chat with Priscilla Marney, and quite by chance.”
“Oh, that is good. At least I hope it is. Jack, listen to me,” she rushed on. “I rang you about something else. I’m afraid Molly Caldwell died a short while ago.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Poor lady I’d better phone Dusty, ask if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Do it later, Jack. He’s rushed off to the hospital. Molly put Atlanta’s name on the hospital papers as her next of kin, so he has to sort it out. Dusty wanted me to let you know that Molly passed away.” There was a slight pause. “Any news of Melinda?”
“I’m afraid not. But I keep checking in with my chaps and the police. I’ll ring them again when we hang up.”
“Thanks. Let’s speak later.”
“You’ve got it, lovey.”
They both clicked off.
Jack immediately dialed his two operatives in Leeds. There was still no news of Melinda, and when he spoke to his friends at Leeds C.I.D., they had nothing to report. “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Ted Fletcher explained, and Jack had to agree with him.
Although he was pleased he had been able to solve the Heron’s Nest mystery, he was submerged in worry as he headed down into the basement. India and Dusty would never rest with Melinda Caldwell on the loose. He wondered if there was a way to find her. He doubted it.
28
Paula was crossing her bedroom at Pennistone Royal when the phone began to ring. Hurrying to the bedside table, she picked it up. “Pennistone Royal.”
“Hello, Mrs. O’Neill. It’s Bolton.”
“Good afternoon, Bolton. Is everything all right at Lackland Priory?” she asked, wondering why Robin’s butler was phoning her.
“Yes, it is. But Mr. Ainsley hasn’t seemed like himself for the last few days …” He left the sentence unfinished.
“Perhaps you should call his doctor, Bolton, have him come over to look at him. Or would you like me to give the doctor a ring?”
“I don’t think he’s ill, Mrs. O’Neill—” Bolton stopped, then went on cautiously. “I think perhaps he’s troubled about something, and I was wondering if you could drop in over the weekend. On the spur of the moment, so to speak. I wouldn’t want him to think I’d interfered.”
“Of course I’ll come to see him, Bolton, that’s no problem. And actually, I have a very good reason for coming, so you don’t have to worry. Mrs. Marietta Hughes is our houseguest this weekend, and naturally she will want to see Mr. Ainsley.”
“Thank you, Mrs. O’Neill. Should I tell Mr. Ainsley you’ll be dropping by?”
“No, no, I don’t think so,” Paula replied swiftly. “Let’s make it a surprise. We’ll p
robably come tomorrow morning for coffee. I’ll give you a ring before we set off.”
“I’ll be waiting, and thank you again, Mrs. O’Neill.”
“Until tomorrow morning, Bolton, and I’m glad you thought to call me,” Paula said and hung up. She stood with her hand resting on the phone for a moment, wondering what could be troubling Uncle Robin. He had seemed perfectly well the last time she had seen him. For a moment she thought of asking Great-Aunt Edwina if something was wrong with him. Instantly she changed her mind, cautioning herself not to stir anything up.
Walking over to her dressing table, Paula ran a comb through her short black hair, refreshed her lipstick, and then went to look at herself in the cheval mirror standing in the corner. She had left for Yorkshire directly from Harte’s and was stih wearing her regulation black skirt suit.
Glancing at her watch, she opened one of her closets, pulled out a wine-colored wool pantsuit, and quickly changed. A moment later she hurried toward the door leading into the upstairs parlor. Automatically, she stopped to touch the fruitwood casket on the Queen Anne chest, but of course it was no longer there. She had given it to Evan. Shaking her head, pursing her lips, she went into the adjoining room, reminding herself that the habits of a lifetime never died.
Paula positioned herself at the window, looking out at the moors, thinking of her grandmother. Emma Harte had been the fairest of people, and she prided herself on her own fairness. So why was she being so hard on Linnet?
On the way to Yorkshire, Paula had glanced at her daughter’s detailed memos, and for a few moments she had been enraged by them. Since Tessa and Marietta were in the car with her, she had had to put them back in her briefcase to study over the weekend.
Staring at the bleak hills, she shook her head, dismayed with herself, and then a thought struck her. Everything Linnet was suggesting they do at the store cost money. A lot of money. And she didn’t want to make that kind of outlay.
Turning away, Paula went to her desk and looked at the folders containing the memos, sighing. Then she remembered how she had wanted to make changes when she was a young woman. But she had made a very big mistake. Was that why she was fighting Linnet? Was she afraid her daughter would make similar errors? Hers had almost cost her the Harte stores …
There was a knock, and the door opened as Margaret came rushing in carrying the tea tray, followed by Jack Figg.
“Hello, Paula,” he said, hurrying toward her, a wide smile on his face.
“Jack, it’s lovely to see you!” Rising, Paula went to meet him, gave him a big hug, and then took a seat on the sofa.
Putting the tray on the coffee table, Margaret said, “Here it is, Miss Paula, and I found them there ginger biscuits you like.”
“Thanks, Margaret.”
As Jack sat down on the sofa opposite Paula, Margaret threw him a quick, knowing glance and said in a stage whisper, “Don’t miss out a thing, tell her everything that happened this morning.”
When the housekeeper had retreated, Paula eyed Jack in amusement, and they both began to laugh as the door closed.
“She’s a card.” Jack shook his head, still smiling. “She takes after her mother.”
“That’s true, anyway—” Paula broke off at the sound of the ringing phone and jumped up, went to her desk.
Jack glanced around, his eyes approving. He felt a sudden surge of nostalgia. How many times he had sat on this sofa, having tea with the one and only Emma, his dearest friend. He couldn’t remember how many times, now that he thought about it, but the teas he had shared with her had been very special.
The upstairs parlor was full of comfort and charm; he loved its sunny yellow walls, colorful chintz fabric on the sofas, mellow Georgian antiques, and glorious paintings.
The remarkable thing was that it had never changed much, and it was all Emma’s work. She had had a great eye, and extraordinary taste. Paula simply refurbished it from time to time when this was required. Everyone congregated here, as they had always done. It had often struck him that the upstairs parlor was the center of this great house, around which everything flowed.
It was particularly welcoming this afternoon, with the huge fire blazing in the hearth, the silk-shaded lamps casting a soft glow … such lovely contrasts to the dark moors with their snowy caps, just visible through the windows. And then there were the white orchids which Paula grew in her glass houses, pots and pots of them standing around the room.
Paula came back to the fireside, sat down, and said to Jack, “That was Shane. He’s delayed at the Leeds office, so he won’t make it in time for tea. But he hopes you’ll stay to dinner, and so do I. You will, won’t you?”
“That’s a nice invitation, Paula, I hope I can. I have to check several ongoing things, but hopefully I won’t have to rush off to London, and thanks for asking me.”
“You know you’re at home here, Jack, part of the family. And by the way, Marietta’s here, she came up with me and Tessa this afternoon. For the weekend. So she’ll be lovely company for us all.”
Jack was surprised. “Really! I thought she would be hovering around Evan at this stage of the pregnancy.”
“She’s rather smart, you know, not the typical fussing mother, and when I invited her she jumped at the invitation. As Marietta put it, she doesn’t want to be an albatross around Evan’s neck. She thinks Evan and Gideon should have plenty of time to themselves.”
“Wise woman. Linnet told me she’s looking for a flat in London.”
Paula nodded but said nothing more about this. Her violet eyes were focused on him, and she studied him for a long moment. She wondered, suddenly, what the family would have done without him all these years. He had been devoted, their fierce defender and protector.
As Jack became aware of her scrutiny, he laughed. “Ah, Paula, I recognize that look of yours. I suppose you want to know about Heron’s Nest.”
“Actually, I was thinking of you … how wonderful you’ve been to us over the years. Your devotion and loyalty have been remarkable, Jack.” She gave him a small smile. “But you know me too well. Of course I want to know about Heron’s Nest. Was there a burglary?”
“No, of course not. Don’t forget, there was no sign of breaking and entering, which was puzzling to me.” Finishing his tea, putting down the cup, he relaxed against the plump pillows. “You should have changed the locks at Heron’s Nest years ago,” he admonished mildly
“I should?” She frowned. “Oh, God, don’t tell me someone got in with a key.”
“Correct.”
“Who was it?” she asked, looking suddenly perplexed.
“Jonathan Ainsley.”
Paula stared at Jack in astonishment and then asked, “But why on earth would he want to go there in winter? Or at any time of the year?”
“It was his secret hideaway, his love nest. He was meeting someone there.”
“Who?”
“Priscilla Marney.”
“Good God, Jack, not Prissy!” Paula kept shaking her head in bafflement, then exclaimed, “I’m simply astounded.”
“Let me tell you the story, the one I managed to unravel this morning.”
Paula simply nodded and sat back on the sofa, giving him her entire attention. As was her way, she let him speak without interrupting.
“And so,” he finished ten minutes later, “that’s the unfortunate tale of our Prissy and the dastardly Jonathan Ainsley. He duped her, pulled the wool over her eyes. But basically, Paula, I think she’s a decent woman, honest, trustworthy, if rather stupid. And I doubt very much that she was ever any kind of conduit to you and the family. She says she never knew anything. Or did she?” he asked, staring hard at Paula, raising a brow.
“No, she didn’t. Other than the dates of my various parties, dinners, and other family functions. Why would she know anything about my life?”
“India says Margaret’s a bit gossipy,” Jack murmured, doing a little fishing.
“Yes, she is, but it’s harmless stuff, Jack
. Margaret truly doesn’t know anything about our lives either, except what goes on when we’re at Pennistone Royal, so she couldn’t tell Prissy a thing.”
“I understand,” Jack answered, but he thought Paula was making a misjudgment about Margaret. She knew much more than Paula realized; India had been certain of that.
Returning to the subject of Heron’s Nest, Paula said in a low, saddened voice, “Poor Prissy, how foolish she’s been. She certainly didn’t need to become entangled with that dreadful cousin of mine. How did it happen?”
“Oh, it’s been going on for years, started when they were teenagers. By the way, she’s worried you’re not going to use her anymore. I think she depends on your business to keep her catering service going.”
Paula nodded. “I believe she does, actually. I’ll think about keeping her on, and we’d better get the locks changed at Scarborough, although maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Oh, it does, it does indeed. You just never know. I’ll arrange for it to be done.”
“You said you told Priscilla that Jonathan Ainsley was engaged to Angharad Hughes. But is that really true, Jack?” Paula gave him a skeptical look.
“I’m not sure, although I’m inclined to think so. Still, there are those who might say I’m merely making an assumption.”
“Tell me all about it, explain why you’ve come to this conclusion.”
“She’s been wearing a large diamond ring for a couple of days. Sarah told you that, and my Paris operative also informed me. I had a phone call from him a couple of hours ago, and since he’s permanently assigned to Ainsley, he knows his every movement. Anyway, to cut to the chase, he discovered a few things which seemed to add up to a marriage in the making.”
“Sarah would know if he’s getting married, Jack! He’s always told her everything. Well, almost everything.”
“I know that, Paula. Just hear me out. My operative knows one of the women who works at Harry Winston on the Avenue Montaigne, where the ring was bought. He found out from her that Angharad was introduced by Ainsley as his fiancée, and the woman made the comment that the young mademoiselle is perfect for him. Because he wants to start a family.”
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