Just Rewards

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “Surely that’s just gossip.” Paula gave him a sharp look, shook her head.

  “You’re right. On the other hand, I learned a couple of hours ago that Ainsley and Angharad visited a fertility clinic in Paris, a famous one. This afternoon.”

  “Good heavens, he’s thinking of babies!” Paula sat up with a jerk.

  “Why not? He wants an heir. Obviously. And she’s certainly of childbearing age at twenty-three. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he’s fallen for her. Her potential for motherhood. How does that saying go? An heir and a spare.”

  Paula sat quite still on the sofa, staring at Jack, thinking about what he had just said. She was at a loss for words. The idea of Angharad Hughes involved with Ainsley to such an extent was deeply disturbing.

  But Jack was correct, Jonathan would want an heir. Robin had once told her Jonathan thought he was sterile because he’d never made a woman pregnant. Fertility clinics were now important to him.

  Jack was waiting patiently, expecting some pithy or acerbic comment, but none was forthcoming. And so he broke the growing silence between them. “Announcing to Prissy that Jonathan Ainsley was getting married so threw her off balance, she lost it completely. I knew at once it was she who was involved with him.”

  Looking at Jack intently, her eyes narrowing, Paula asked, “Why were you focused on her to begin with?”

  “I’d figured it out, thanks to India. I’d asked her if any member of her generation was having assignations at Heron’s Nest. She ruled that out, suggested I look at your generation. I did. Of course I knew none of you girls would have been involved with Jonathan when you were growing up, yet remember, it was Jonathan’s room that Mrs. Hodges pinpointed. I suddenly wondered what outsiders had visited Heron’s Nest in those days.” Jack took a deep breath and finished. “I remembered Emma’s summer secretary, which led me to Priscilla, the secretary’s daughter.”

  “So it was all a matter of clues and clever deduction on your part. Well, I’ve always known you were exceedingly astute, and I’m glad you solved it, Jack, and—”

  Paula stopped abruptly as the door flew open and Tessa burst into the room. For a split second she stood poised in the doorway. To Paula, her eldest daughter looked like a ghostly figure, dressed entirely in white and with a face as white as the clothes she was wearing.

  There was no doubt in Paula’s mind that something was terribly wrong, and she jumped up as Tessa came rushing toward her, exclaiming, “Mummy! It’s Jean-Claude. He’s vanished. In Afghanistan. I don’t know what to do!”

  Paula pulled Tessa into her arms and held her tightly, endeavoring to soothe her as sobs suddenly broke free. “He’ll be found, Tessa, he’s probably been found already. Come on, darling, come and sit down with me and tell me all about it.”

  Jack had risen, too, and went to the two women. Putting a hand lightly on Tessa’s shoulder, he said gently, “Your mother’s right, Tessa. Come to the fireside. Do you want me to get you anything, a cup of tea, water? Or maybe a brandy?”

  Tessa stepped away from Paula, shook her head. In a faltering voice, she whispered, “I’m scared that … he’s … been killed.”

  “No, no, don’t even say that! I’m sure he hasn’t,” Paula responded in a firm tone. She took hold of Tessa’s hand and drew her across to the sofa. They sat down together.

  Jack threw a couple of logs onto the fire and then returned to his seat. He knew it was much wiser for him to keep quiet, to leave this to Paula. A mother was always the best person to help a daughter who was in distress, as indeed Tessa was at this moment.

  Paula said, “You just found out, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Philippe, Jean-Claude’s son, just phoned me from Paris. I told you I’d met him at Jean-Claude’s country house. Anyway, Philippe called me on my mobile, explained that ten minutes ago he’d had a call from the head of the news division at the network. The man told him that his father was missing, that he’d vanished three days ago. While he was on a special mission. After those three days had passed without any further communication from Jean-Claude, the entire network was beginning to worry. Then the cameraman showed up in Kabul and phoned Paris, told the head of the news division that he’d become separated from Jean-Claude, had no idea where he was. The cameraman had made it back on his own.”

  “This is very worrying, I admit, but we mustn’t think the worst, Tessa,” Paula said, reassuring her as best she could. “Being missing doesn’t mean he’s been killed.”

  “He could have been captured,” Tessa mumbled through her tears. “If anything happens to him, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Paula put her arms around her daughter again and held her close. “And that’s all Philippe was able to tell you?”

  “Yes. He didn’t know anything else. He’ll stay in touch, he promised.” Tessa groped in her jacket pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, patted her streaming eyes.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Jean-Claude?” Paula now thought to ask.

  “On Monday. He explained he was leaving Kabul, that he was on to something he wanted to check out. He said not to expect a call until this weekend, but I do wish he hadn’t made that rule.”

  Paula, continuing to soothe her daughter, glanced across at Jack. Her expression signaled that she wanted him to say something.

  After a moment’s thought, Jack remarked quietly, “That’s understandable, Tessa. If he’s on a special story, he obviously doesn’t need to be worrying about you worrying about him just because you haven’t heard from him. Telling you not to expect a call was a wise thing to do in my opinion.”

  Tessa didn’t say anything. Sitting up, smoothing her hair, she looked across at Jack and nodded her understanding. “I suppose you’re right. He does have to concentrate on his work, and be on the alert in such a dangerous place.”

  There was a small silence.

  Tessa shifted on the sofa, swiveled her head to look at her mother. Swallowing, she said in a slightly quavering voice, “I’m pregnant. I’m expecting Jean-Claude’s child.”

  “Oh, Tessa, darling, why didn’t you tell me before?” Paula exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up her face. Then it slipped slightly.

  “Because I wanted to tell Jean-Claude first, and now I can’t,” she mumbled, and the tears started again. In a choked voice, she added, “I hope he’s safe … . What if something’s happened to him? Whatever will I do without him?”

  “Listen to me, Tessa,” Paula said in a strong voice. “He’s a seasoned war correspondent from what you’ve told me. He’s not going to take any chances, no chances at all. He’ll call this weekend, as he promised. I can almost guarantee that.”

  Deciding he ought to leave Tessa and Paula alone, Jack said, “You must have faith, Tessa, and your mother is right, you know. Jean-Claude won’t put himself in danger.” Looking at Paula, he added, “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

  “Do try to stay for dinner, Jack. We’d love it if you could.”

  He smiled at her and left, reminding himself that she was shockproof. As head of the family, she was used to carrying so many burdens. What a marvel she was.

  29

  Years ago, Emma had assigned a pleasant bedroom to Jack, and it was still his. He frequently stayed there, especially when it was too late for him to drive home to Robin Hood’s Bay on the coast.

  After quietly closing the parlor door behind him, Jack went upstairs to his room. He felt tired all of a sudden, needed a chance to catch his breath. He also had to phone India to ask how Dusty was doing, and put in a few calls to his operatives in the field.

  Once inside the room, he glanced around, struck yet again by its lovely soft colors and its comfort. He placed his mobile on the bedside table, took off his jacket and shoes, and lay down on the bed, his hands behind his head.

  Staring up at the ceiling, he thought about Tessa’s announcement of a moment ago. Paula had taken it in stride, as she usually did when unexpected things happened in the family. And sing
le women having children was not so unusual in this day and age. However, he was very much aware that if something had happened to Jean-Claude in Afghanistan, Tessa would be distraught. He couldn’t help wondering where Lorne was this weekend. Was he expected? If so it would be a blessing.

  The warbling of his cell phone broke the silence, and Jack reached for it. “Jack Figg here.”

  “Jack, it’s Ted. We’ve got a body. At the morgue in Leeds. A young woman. She was found in a car parked in a side street, not too far from Roundhay Park. No ID on her, but she fits your description.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Jack said. “How did she die, Ted?”

  “Medical examiner’s not exactly sure yet, but more than likely it’s an OD. No bruises or wounds on her. Dead since last night, around midnight, according to the coroner.”

  “You say there’s no ID on her. Didn’t she have a handbag? Anything in her pockets?” Jack asked, thinking that the lack of identification was peculiar.

  “No, in answer to both your questions. Car door was unlocked, key in the ignition, but no sign of a handbag.”

  “And no drug paraphernalia, no needles, nothing like that?”

  “Not a bloody thing, Jack. Bit of a mystery how she died. And where she died. It could have been in the car. Maybe not. Listen, Jack, what’s the chance of identifying her?”

  “I would if I could, but I’ve never met Melinda Caldwell.”

  “Family?”

  “The sad thing is her mother passed away this morning. At Leeds Infirmary.”

  “Mother and daughter dying within hours of each other, that’s unique,” Ted exclaimed. “And I’m up a creek without a bloody paddle, that’s the way it looks to me.”

  “Her former boyfriend, the father of her child, will identify her, I’m sure. Let me talk to him, and I’ll be back to you shortly.”

  “I’m grateful, Jack. Thanks.”

  Going over to the desk, Jack sat down and dialed Dusty’s number on the house phone, and when Paddy answered he said, “It’s Jack Figg, Paddy. I’d like to speak to Mr. Rhodes, if he’s available.”

  “Yes, he is, sir. I’ll put you through.”

  A moment later Dusty was on the line. His voice was flat as he said, “Thanks for calling, Jack. India said you might. I did manage to get things sorted out all right at Leeds Infirmary.”

  “I’m sorry about Molly Caldwell, Dusty. I actually thought she was going to make it.”

  “So did I,” Dusty replied, but he hadn’t, not really.

  “Dusty, I just had a call from Ted Fletcher of Leeds C.I.D. They’ve found Melinda.”

  “She’s not all right, is she? I can tell by the sound of your voice. Is she … dead?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.” Clearing his throat, Jack proceeded to give Dusty all the information he had received from Ted. He finished quietly. “There’s nobody else to identify her, Dusty. Will you do it?”

  “There is somebody else, there’s Gladys Roebotham. But Gladys is here at Willows Hall, looking after Atlanta, and I think that’s what she should be doing. Yes, I’ll do it, Jack. Where do I have to go?”

  “Nowhere. Stay there. I’ll come and get you, take you to the morgue.”

  “Come on, Jack, don’t be silly. I’m a big boy. I can drive to Leeds by myself.”

  “It’s a lousy experience, Dusty, having to identify someone you’ve known who’s lying on a cold slab. Listen, I’m at Pennistone Royal. Give me a half an hour, I need to have a word with Paula before I leave.”

  “Jack, before you hang up, did she die of an overdose?”

  “They’re not sure, but it could have been an OD. And she died last night, around midnight.”

  There was a silence, then Dusty muttered, “I’ll see you shortly, and thanks, Jack.”

  On Saturday morning Paula decided to go to Lackland Priory early. And she went alone. It had occurred to her that if something were troubling Robin and he needed to talk, it would be best if they were by themselves. Marietta could visit with him later over the weekend, or perhaps he would be able to come to dinner tonight.

  Before leaving, she had gone to Tessa’s bedroom and spoken to her for a few minutes, hoping to reassure her. But her eldest daughter had been morose, expecting to hear the worst about Jean-Claude at any moment. Nothing Paula said alleviated her anxiety, and Tessa’s lack of sleep didn’t help.

  On the short drive to Robin’s house, Paula ran the events of yesterday through her mind. It had turned out to be Black Friday in a sense or, as Shane had said at dinner, “Bad Day at Black Rock,” quoting the title of one of his favorite old movies.

  “Two deaths,” Margaret had muttered to her as she had served the smoked salmon. “There’s bound to be a third. Everything goes in threes, you know that, Miss Paula.”

  That a mother and daughter should die so close together had sent chills running down Paula’s spine when Jack had told her about Molly and Melinda. Then he had gone to take Dusty to the morgue in Leeds, promising to be back in time for dinner at eight. And he had kept his promise.

  As she drove along the main road, Paula’s thoughts centered on Priscilla Marney and her unfortunate involvement with Jonathan Ainsley. How flabbergasted she had been to hear about it, and now she was faced with a decision about using Prissy’s catering service. Although Prissy had only herself to blame, Paula couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. To discover she had been so flagrantly used must have been galling for Prissy. Jack had said he believed Priscilla was decent and loyal, and so she would probably keep her on. She would talk to Shane about it later.

  As she turned in to the driveway, Paula wondered what was awaiting her at Lackland Priory. Before she even switched off the ignition, the front door opened and Bolton was waiting for her on the step, greeting her cheerfully as he escorted her inside the lovely old house.

  After taking her coat, the butler showed her into the morning room, where Robin was having breakfast and reading the newspapers.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” Robin said, getting up, kissing her on the cheek. “When Bolton said you’d be popping in, I had him set another place. Would you like breakfast?”

  Sitting down opposite him, Paula shook her head. “Just coffee, thanks, Uncle Robin.”

  Bolton brought her the cup of coffee and quickly departed, and Paula went on. “It’s such a gorgeous day, lovely and sunny and quite mild.” She laughed. “As if I have to tell you that. This room’s full of sunshine.”

  Robin smiled, too. “Where are you off to so early, Paula?”

  “I’m meeting Emily in West Tanfield; we have to do a few things at Beck House. And as I knew I’d be driving right past the priory, I thought I’d come in and say hello. How have you been feeling, Uncle Robin?”

  “Not bad, not bad at all. Of course I worry about Evan and the twins. I can’t wait for them to be born.”

  “Neither can she, I’m sure of that.”

  “Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes, please don’t worry. She’s going to be perfectly fine.” Paula took a sip of her coffee and went on. “Marietta is with us for the weekend, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight.”

  “That sounds like a nice idea, Paula, but I’d planned to see Edwina.”

  “She can join us, too, unless you want to be alone with her.”

  Robin was silent, and then after a moment, he said, “Well, we can ask her, and I think she’d like that. We love coming to Pennistone Royal.”

  Leaning across the table, he now said, “Shall we take a walk in the garden? As you said, it’s a gorgeous day, and I want to discuss my roses with you.”

  Paula was taken aback. Noting the anxious look in his eyes, she said, “Why not? But you’re going to need a warm coat.”

  A few minutes later, both of them bundled up in coats and scarves, Robin led Paula around his garden, explaining, “I don’t like to speak about private family matters when there’s so much staff around.”

&n
bsp; “I understand. But you trust Bolton, don’t you, Uncle Robin?”

  “Of course, he’s been with me for years and he’s most devoted, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. The less people know, the better.”

  “I agree. Now, I know you didn’t invite me out here to talk about the rosebushes,” Paula said pithily, glancing around. “But they really do need to be in the sun, and I think those bushes over there will get too much shade in the summer.”

  “I know, I plan to dig ’em up when the ground’s not so hard. If I’m still here.”

  “Oh, you will be, I’ve no doubt about that. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Two things. First, I want you to know that I have left Evan my mews house in Belgravia. To all intents and purposes, it’s Edwina’s mews, but I bought it from her years ago. For Glynnis. The deeds have always remained in Edwina’s name, but Anthony knows the deal, no problem there. However, I felt you should be in the picture, since you run all the family business.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Uncle Robin—” Paula cut herself off, biting her lip, her expression worried.

  Robin said, “Don’t even think about Jonathan. You see, he has always believed that the house is Edwina’s, and that she simply allowed me to stay there whenever I wanted. The arrangement is that when Edwina dies, Gideon will ‘buy’ it as an investment.”

  “All right, that works for me. And thank you for filling me in, Uncle Robin. You said you had two things to discuss. What else is on your mind?”

  “I have created a trust for Evan’s twins. I used John Crawford, your solicitor, even though he’s semiretired. I’ve known him donkey’s years, and he is the most honorable and trustworthy of men. Again, you don’t have to worry about Jonathan finding out because for years I’ve had a trust fund in the States. It was for Glynnis. She never touched it, and it reverted to me with her death. I was thinking of making Owen the beneficiary, but I’ve changed my mind. It will be for Evan’s twins.”