Just Rewards

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “They’re the most beautiful boys, Evan, my darling,” Gideon said, peering at the two babies tucked side by side next to his wife in the hospital bed. He moved the blankets slightly, and asked softly, “But which is which? They’re identical, aren’t they?”

  Evan laughed. “Yes, they are, and it is going to be a bit of a problem, knowing which one is which. I think I’m going to have to put little bows on them, in different colors, of course.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He grinned at her. “No mistaking they’re Hartes, is there?”

  “Not at all, darling.”

  Moving the chair closer to the bed, Gideon sat down and took hold of her hand. “Dr. Addney told me you’ve had a bit of a rough time.”

  “No, it was easy,” she murmured.

  He shook his head. “Don’t fib to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  There was a small silence, and then he said, “Thank you, Evan. Thank you for these two precious little bundles.”

  “Miss Paula! Whatever are you doing at that there desk? You’re not supposed to be working, you’re supposed to be in bed!”

  “I’m not working, Margaret, I’m just sitting here.” Paula grimaced, shaking her head. “I got up to make a few notes, and I can’t. My brain seems unable to work the way it did. I sincerely hope that’s not a permanent thing.”

  “Oh, it won’t be, it won’t be,” Margaret clucked, her mother hen manner in place. Wanting to reassure Paula, she continued, “You’re bound to be tired, all you’ve been through. I’ve brought you up a nice cup of tea. Where do you want it? Here or in bed?”

  “I think I’d better go back to bed,” Paula replied. The effort of going from the bed to the desk had exhausted her, and she, who had thought her recovery would be fast, had discovered it was quite slow. She had been out of the hospital almost two weeks now, yet even doing small, normal things seemed too much at times. Simple tasks taxed her or left her reeling.

  Taking her arm, the housekeeper helped Paula across the upstairs parlor and into the adjoining bedroom. Once she was in bed, Margaret plumped the pillows, straightened the coverlet, and then hurried across the room to retrieve the tray with the cup of tea on it.

  A moment later, placing the cup and saucer on the bedside table, Margaret asked, “Is there any news of Tessa’s fiancé?”

  “No, nothing, and it’s been over four weeks now. She’s distraught.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s awful, it is that. Is she coming for the weekend?”

  “Yes, Margaret, she is, and bringing Adele and Elvira. Linnet’s also coming with Julian, and there’s a possibility Mrs. Hughes will come, too.”

  “A houseful, eh?” Margaret smiled happily. “But I knows you like it that way, Miss Paula, and so do I. It’s a bit lonely, this here big house is, when there’s nobody else running around in it but us oldies.”

  “Speak for yourself!” Paula exclaimed, and, reaching for the cup, she took a sip of the tea.

  “Will Tessa be doing any cooking? Or isn’t she going to be up to it?” Margaret asked.

  “I don’t know, I didn’t think to ask her.”

  “Shall I give Priscilla a tinkle? Or is she still in your bad books?”

  “You know very well she’s never been in my bad books! It’s just that … Well, very frankly, Margaret, most of the family are put out with her; they think she told that nasty cousin of mine too much.”

  “I know very well what they think, but I don’t think she’s a bad woman, you knows.”

  “Let’s find out who’s coming altogether when Mr. Shane gets home tonight, then we’ll make a decision. Is that all right?”

  “Oh, yes, it is indeed. Well, I’ll trot off to the kitchen. I’m making you a nice piece of plaice for lunch, and a baked apple. You’ve loved baked apples since you were a child.”

  “Thank you, Margaret,” Paula murmured and sank back into the pillows. She was exhausted again, but then Margaret could be trying at times.

  Half an hour later the phone jangling on the bedside table brought Paula out of a doze. “Hello?” she said as she picked up the receiver.

  “It’s Emily, Paula dear. How are you?”

  “Back in bed. I felt very tired.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Have you been doing too much?”

  “No. I guess this kind of sudden tiredness goes with the territory.”

  “I thought of popping over for lunch. I came up to Yorkshire last night. But perhaps you’re not up to it?”

  “Course I am, and I’d love that, Dumpling.”

  “You cannot possibly call a woman in her fifties Dumpling. You must please stop.”

  Paula laughed. “See you soon.”

  “Sooner than you think.”

  A few minutes later Emily was gliding across the upstairs parlor and into the bedroom. Paula was taken aback. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  “I called you on my cell from the terrace.”

  “Emily! You should have said you were here!”

  “I didn’t want you to feel obliged to invite me to lunch if you were exhausted.”

  “I’m fine—” Paula stopped as Emily’s mobile, still in her hand, began to ring.

  “Emily Harte here. Oh, hello, Great-Aunt Edwina! How’re you?”

  Walking over to a chair, Emily sat down, listened attentively, and then said, “Oh dear, I am sorry, so very sorry. How sad. Yes, yes, I’ll tell her, and I’ll get back to you in a few moments.” Emily clicked off, looked across at Paula, and said in a saddened voice, “That was Great-Aunt Edwina, as you heard.” There was a moment’s pause, and then she went on softly, “Uncle Robin has just been found dead.”

  Paula sat bolt upright, her face turning extremely white. “Where?”

  “At Lackland Priory. By Bolton, just a few minutes ago. Apparently he’d been out for a walk, Uncle Robin I mean, and when he came back he asked Bolton for a cup of coffee. Bolton took it to him in the library ten minutes later, and he found Uncle Robin sitting in his wing chair near the fire, stone-cold dead. Obviously Bolton is dreadfully upset, not only because Robin’s dead but because of the way he found him. It was so unexpected.”

  “How terrible for Bolton. However, sad as I am, what a wonderful way to die. Robin never suffered an illness …” Paula’s voice faltered and tears came into her eyes. She brushed them away, confided, “I grew to like Robin so much in these last years.”

  “So did I. Paula, isn’t it a pity the twins haven’t been born yet? He never got to see his great-grandsons, or hold them in his arms. He so wanted that.”

  “At least he met Evan, got to know his only grandchild, was aware that she was happy with Gideon. And he also knew he was going to have great-grandsons to carry on his line,” Paula pointed out, resting her head against the pillows.

  “That’s true,” Emily answered, and a deep sigh escaped her. “My mother is going to be grief-stricken. He was her twin.”

  “Poor Aunt Elizabeth, she will take it hard, and so will Edwina.”

  A small silence fell between them as they sat thinking their own thoughts about Robin’s sisters.

  It was Emily who suddenly exclaimed, “Paula, I’ve just had the most terrible thought! Does this mean that Jonathan Ainsley will be coming to Yorkshire? Will he be coming to Uncle Robin’s funeral?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that, darling. Presumably he will. Robin is his father.”

  Emily said, “I’d better phone Great-Aunt Edwina back. She wants to know what to do about the funeral. When Bolton phoned her, he said he hadn’t wanted to bother you with it.”

  “I’m just not up to dealing with this death, the funeral, Emily. I’m so sorry, but I’m not.”

  “I know that. I’ll take over for you. Or help Edwina, whichever she wants. Shall I tell her it’s her decision?”

  “That’s fine, but let’s not forget she’s ninety-five.”

  Emily’s cell phone jangled again, and clicking it on she said, “Hello?”

&
nbsp; “Mother, it’s me.”

  “Hello, Gideon. Listen, I have some news—”

  “Let me give you mine first,” he cut in excitedly. “Evan went into labor earlier this morning. I didn’t phone you because at first she thought it might be a false alarm. She’s not due for a few days. Anyway, you’re a grandmother! You’ve got two bouncing baby grandsons. And there’s no mistaking they’re Hartes. They both have bright auburn fluff on top of their heads.”

  “Oh, Gideon! Congratulations. How wonderful, and Evan is all right, I’m presuming?”

  “She’s great, Mother, but very tired.”

  “I’m sorry I’m here in Yorkshire, Gid. I’d come up to town, but I’ve a problem here.”

  “Don’t worry, Ma. Marietta is already at the hospital, and Dad’s on his way there. Listen, I’ve got to go—”

  “Gideon, wait a minute. I started to tell you I had some news, and a problem. It’s rather upsetting, I’m afraid. I’m here with Paula, and we just heard that Uncle Robin died this morning. Peacefully, at home, sitting in his chair by the fire.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mother. And how sad he never got to see the twins. He couldn’t wait to hold them, he told me last week.”

  “Are you going to tell Evan?” Emily asked, suddenly sounding concerned. “I mean about Robin’s death?”

  “I won’t, not today. I think it’ll upset her too much. What do you think?”

  “Keep it to yourself for twenty-four hours, Gideon. At least don’t mention it to Evan today. But you’d better let your father know. Because of Robin’s obituary for the papers.”

  33

  “Since I am the eldest person in this family, I think it’s only appropriate that I take charge of Robin’s funeral,” Great-Aunt Edwina said, looking from Paula to Emily. “However, I shall certainly need your help, Emily, since I’m not as swift as I was.”

  “You have it,” Emily responded, leaning forward, picking up the silver teapot, pouring herself another cup of tea. She couldn’t help thinking that Edwina was swifter than most people she knew. “My main concern has been Jonathan Ainsley. What do we do about him?”

  “I have all the information we need, Emily. His telephone numbers around the world, the name of his solicitors.” Reaching for her handbag, Edwina opened it, took out an envelope, and handed it to Emily, who was seated next to her. She explained, “Robin gave me this several weeks ago. I have a feeling my brother knew he was going to die soon.”

  “It’s funny you should say that, Great-Aunt Edwina. I think he did, too,” Paula murmured, staring at Edwina across the coffee table. She was stretched out on the other sofa, covered with a light quilt and propped up against many pillows. “In fact, only a few weeks ago, just before I had my brain surgery, I went over to see him. We discussed various matters regarding his will.”

  “Oh, yes, he told me all about it,” Edwina murmured, giving her a knowing look. “Now, Emily, getting back to Jonathan, I think we should just go ahead and plan the funeral without consulting him. He’s never here, and he’s never been here for Robin. Not only that, they were at loggerheads lately. So, where shall we have it? Here at Pennistone village church or at Fairley Church?”

  “Gosh, I hadn’t even thought of Fairley!” Emily exclaimed, throwing Paula a quick look.

  “Grandy’s buried there,” Paula reminded her in answer to her questioning look. “And her brothers and her parents. As well as a lot of Fairleys.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t matter, about the Fairleys, I mean. Robin wasn’t one. Only I,” Edwina pointed out, as if they didn’t know. That was all she had ever talked about at one point in her life, as Paula and Emily were well aware. It had driven Emma crazy, this preoccupation with her lineage.

  Paula closed her eyes, realizing that she was having trouble processing all this. Her brain was simply overloaded.

  Emily announced, “If convenience is a consideration, I think Uncle Robin should be buried here, in the graveyard next to Pennistone Royal church. Do we really want to trek across the moors in February?”

  “Very well put, Emily!” Edwina took a sip of tea, sat back, and straightened the skirt of her dark purple wool dress. “What time of day should the funeral be, do you think? I prefer the morning, so we can have a small gathering afterward, buffet lunch, nothing fancy, just for the family.” Raising a brow, she stared at Emily intently.

  “If we arrange the funeral for ten o’clock, and it’s over in an hour,” Emily asserted, pushing a strand of blond hair away from her face, “we could have lunch at twelve-thirty or thereabouts. Do you agree?”

  “That sounds about right,” Edwina replied and put a finger to her lips as she glanced at Paula.

  Emily followed the direction of Edwina’s gaze and nodded. Paula was dozing. “So now we should inform Jonathan Ainsley of our plans and invite him to come to his father’s funeral, then let the rest of the family know the details.”

  “Do you think you can do that, Emily dear?” Edwina asked, then added quickly, “Speak to the rest of the family?”

  “Of course, and Jonathan as well. I’ll also—”

  “Oh, no, no,” Edwina cut in. “I wish to make that particular phone call.”

  “Very well. I understand. Now, Great-Aunt, when should we have the funeral? Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday?”

  “Since it’s Friday today, Monday’s far too soon to make all the arrangements in time. I think we had better speak to the vicar here in Pennistone today and ask which is the best for him. Tuesday or Wednesday? Probably we should aim for Wednesday, since I’m sure Anthony and Sally will come from Clonloughlin, and other family members have to travel here.”

  “That’s true. Great-Aunt Edwina—” Emily cut herself off, staring at her mother’s sister and best friend.

  “What is it?” Edwina asked, noticing the odd look on her niece’s face. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Nodding. Emily said, “It’s the most bizarre thing, Paula and I both agree on that. Just after you phoned me this morning, I had another call. From Gideon. Evan gave birth to the twins at about eleven o’clock … . Everyone’s doing fine, and the boys have bright red fluff on their heads, according to their excited father. But don’t you think it’s a most curious coincidence?”

  Edwina sat back against the pillows, shaking her head, her expression contemplative. “Well, I never. Just as Robin died, his great-grandsons were coming into this world. You’re right, it is bizarre, and perhaps prophetic … a signal of something wonderful. Maybe they will inherit all of his talents and gifts … and none of his faults. But then none of us is perfect.”

  “Yes,” Emily agreed.

  “And Evan is all right, you said?” Edwina’s brow lifted.

  “She’s doing splendidly. We’d better be in touch with her father just in case he wants to come to the funeral.”

  “Perhaps he won’t want to come. Personally, I detest funerals. A long time ago I promised myself I would only ever go to weddings and christenings. Naturally, this funeral is a bit different, because Robin was my brother and he was always my favorite. But I never go to my friends’ funerals these days. Too many of them to begin with, and, second, they go against the grain. I’m for life, Emily my dear, not death.”

  Emily couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.

  Tessa Fairley sat in the back of the car, staring out of the window, her expression morose, her beautiful silvery eyes dull and empty. Although there were hints of spring in the countryside as they drove toward Pennistone Royal, she did not notice the change. Her thoughts were elsewhere. They went from Jean-Claude, still missing and a source of extreme worry, to her mother, deeply affected by the brain hemorrhage and the other source of constant worry.

  There was nothing she could do about Jean-Claude, except pray he was safe; as far as her mother was concerned, she felt the need to protect her, cosset her, help her get well.

  Whatever the others in the family thought, Tessa knew that her mother had had a traum
atic few weeks. She had come home to Pennistone Royal thinking she was perfectly normal, only to discover, much to her chagrin, that she was not. Paula had quickly realized that the smallest things, which she had done automatically all her life, now took her much longer; she had also admitted to Tessa that she couldn’t process things, and she became exhausted easily.

  There was another troubling matter for Paula. There were no bandages on her head, because they were not needed, so most people saw the woman they had always known and didn’t understand that she had had a major brain injury. “They think I’m just the same,” she had complained to Tessa only a week ago. “And I’m not. It’s funny, you know, if I had a cast on my leg or my arm in a sling, they’d recognize I’d been hurt.”

  Naturally, close members of the family—such as Shane, Linnet, Lorne, Emsie, and Desmond, and the staff at Pennistone Royal—understood everything, but Tessa had decided on the drive from London that she would remind everybody again this weekend, just to be sure.

  Adele began to stir.

  Tessa looked down at her daughter on the seat, and at Elvira, who was soothing Adele, stroking her hair. “I think she had a bad dream,” Elvira murmured. “But we’ll soon be there, and she can have—”

  Elvira broke off as Tessa’s mobile phone buzzed. Grabbing it from her carryall, Tessa clicked it on, said, “Hello?”

  “Tessa?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Philippe. I have fantastic news!”

  Tessa gripped the phone and held her breath. “Yes, yes, tell me!”

  He seemed to fade away for a moment, and then he was back. “Did you hear me?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “My father is now in Kabul. With the American forces. They found him. Wounded in some makeshift hospital. He is coming home, Tessa!”

  “Oh my God! Philippe, this is wonderful news,” Tessa shouted, afraid of losing him. Tears were rolling down her face, and she could barely get the words out. “When is he coming back to Paris?”