by Dilys Xavier
Although Catherine seemed confident that Cecile would be able to prise the necessary information out of Richard, he had some doubts about it all. What if she was unsuccessful? Could he enlist the aid of the gardener’s nephew to obtain the information they needed? Could young Gerald be persuaded to hack into the man’s computer? His thoughts were interrupted as Cecile joined him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Catherine led the way upstairs. The spacious staircase divided into two sections when it reached the first landing, giving access to a wide minstrel gallery that was hung with framed paintings of the estate and horses. She indicated which rooms were for her use, but did not invite him to look inside. Then she pushed open the door to the main suite.
‘This was Papa’s,’ she said, quietly. ‘He claimed to be able to see the farthermost boundary from these windows.’
When they returned to the ground floor, Catherine gestured to the far end of a long corridor.
‘The kitchen, pantry and dairy are down there, but we won’t disturb the staff. They’re busy cleaning up.’ She opened the third door off a short corridor. ‘This is the games room.’
The room clearly depicted the owner’s interests; the panelled walls were hung with more paintings of racehorses and hunters. In the centre of the room stood a billiard table, its baize surface protected by an off white linen cover; two racks of well used cues were clearly visible on a nearby wall. A small bar graced the far end of the room. As Catherine moved past him, Richard caught a faint whiff of her perfume. Hmm, he thought, one of my favourites - Arpege. Most appropriate for someone like her.
‘And now the morning room,’ Catherine said, leading the way to the eastern side of the house. A pair of French doors opened onto a well laid out garden that caught the morning sun. As she spoke, Richard noted the polished floors of solid wood blocks that were a feature of every room. ‘And this is the study.’
Richard stood aside to allow her to open the door. Like most of the other rooms on the ground floor, the tall windows opened out onto a garden. But this room included a view of the estate which surpassed all the rest. It was simply magnificent. He gazed around in amazement at walls that were completely lined with books of every description. It was an impressive collection and he felt sure that they contained many priceless first editions. Then his eyes were drawn to a very old desk positioned by the window.
‘Papa liked to be able to look up from his work and gaze out onto the countryside. This was his favourite room,’ Catherine said, quietly. ‘If I was very good he would let me visit him for a while. He found it hard to tolerate children for very long, so when I was young, my visits were few and far between.’
‘And you were an only child?’
‘Yes, my mother miscarried twice before my natural father died.’ Catherine looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘I never could understand why Papa married my mother, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she was not unlike his daughter, Elizabeth, in appearance.’ She paused before continuing. ‘Maybe he saw her as a surrogate daughter.’
‘Did Sir Hugh adopt you?’
Catherine shook her head. ‘No. No, he didn’t, but he treated me as if I were his own and I became his ward.’ She gave Richard another of her direct looks. ‘My mother died shortly after they married, so Papa engaged someone to look after me. He was very generous and gave me everything I needed.’ She sighed. ‘Except affection,’ she added, almost inaudibly, but still loud enough for Richard to hear.
‘That must have been hard for you, with no mother to turn to for love.’
‘I coped; we all do, don’t we?’ Catherine said, slowly, as if reluctant to show her true feelings. ‘He was a very good father to me.’ The she gave a tight, little laugh. ‘I can thank him for a good education, a social life that most women just dream of and a wonderful home. Langley Hall has been ... is my life; I’ve known no other, nor do I want one.’
Richard felt slightly unsettled by her answer, and for a brief moment he wondered if it would be wiser, and kinder to Catherine, to leave things as they were even though he felt he had a greater claim to the Hall, the land, the wealth, and the title. She was completely at home in these surroundings, and she was the perfect hostess. He had to admit she was someone who would make an ideal companion for the lord of the manor.
He glanced sideways at her again as he recalled his conversation with Louise on the day of the funeral. The woman’s words had been tinged with sorrow when she stated; ‘Catherine was such a warm, loving person, but she’s become rather cold and calculating. It’s such a pity.’ Yes, he thought, And more the pity that she feels the need to marry Peter Hamblyn to retain control of the place.
By the time they returned to the drawing room, some of the other guests were preparing to leave. Louise chided Richard for neglecting her, but made him promise to have lunch with her at The Wheatsheaf Inn before she returned to Ireland.
‘You can be my guest, next time.’
When Catherine returned to the room after seeing someone to the door, Richard looked pointedly at his wristwatch.
‘I will say goodnight, too.’ He reached for her hand. ‘And I must thank you for a most pleasant evening.’
‘I’m pleased that you enjoyed yourself,’ Catherine said, demurely.
‘Yes, I certainly did,’ he said, smiling at her, ‘and I appreciated being shown over the manor. It’s a beautiful place.’ As he let go of her hand, Richard looked around for Cecile, but she was nowhere in sight. ‘I was hoping to say goodnight to Cecile as well, but ... but she seems to have gone.’
‘She’ll be back in minute,’ Catherine replied, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice at the look of disappointment in his face.
By the time Richard had shrugged himself into his jacket, Cecile had returned from the cloakroom. He watched her say goodbye to their hosts and then she turned to him. Without thinking he offered his arm and escorted her from the manor towards her car. When they reached the red Alfa Romeo she paused, key in hand, and leant towards him.
‘I’ve enjoyed our time together this evening, Richard,’ she said, in a low, husky voice. ‘I hope I’ll have that pleasure again at some future date.’
Richard murmured a suitable reply, but refrained from asking for her telephone number. Under normal circumstances he would have used the opportunity of making a date straight away, but something made him hold back. She’s got another card to play, he thought, as she slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition key.
The only sound was a solid click.
‘Oh, dear, this is a most inconvenient time to break down, isn’t it?’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’ll be hours before an AA man arrives.’
‘Can I drop you off somewhere?’ Richard asked, solicitously. ‘Maybe you could have someone from a garage look at it tomorrow.’
Without hesitating Cecile slid out of the vehicle, and locked the car door. ‘That’s ever so kind of you. I suppose I should tell Catherine what’s happened.’
‘Let me do it for you,’ Richard said, pulling out his mobile and punching in the telephone number. He smiled to himself as he explained to Catherine that Cecile’s car would not start and she was going to leave in the grounds overnight. ‘She’ll probably have someone look at tomorrow,’ he concluded.
He suppressed another smile as he helped her into his car, because he was convinced now that this little episode had been prearranged, and that Catherine was a party to the façade. Nobody would have noticed if Cecile had purposely neglected to turn of the headlights because she had been the last one to arrive. As he backed out onto the drive he glanced at the house again. Silhouetted against the night sky the place looked almost forbidding. A cloud scudded over the face of the moon, momentarily casting a darkness over the building, like a shadow, and reminding him of his first impression of the manor.
Cecile sighed contentedly and then settled back into the seat. When he pulled up outside her apartment, she waited until he had opened her door before stepping out
of the vehicle. Then she subtlety drew him towards the front door and into her home. The well-furnished sitting room reflected her personality in the same manner as her clothes. She laughed softly as he gazed around.
‘Shall we have a night-cap?’
To Richard’s receptive ears it sounded as if she should have added the word, ‘or’. He eased himself out of his coat as she kicked off her shoes and divested herself of the choker and earrings. It was as if they had rehearsed the whole scenario. Without another word she gently took his hand in hers and led him into the bedroom.
She switched on a bedside lamp before turning around so that he could unzip her dress. There were no panties to remove, no bra to unhook, just a small suspender belt that supported the sheer black stockings that graced her shapely legs. And even as he moved to release the catches on that tiny piece of clothing she stopped his hand. ‘Leave it for now,’ she whispered. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the belt of his trousers.
They came together in a welter of passion and then slipped into a dreamless sleep.
The early morning sun flickered across Richard’s eyes as the soft breeze parted the curtains. He stirred and looked around at the unfamiliar room, and then at the woman by his side. She looked just as beautiful as she had done the previous evening. As he continued to gaze at her Cecile opened her eyes.
‘Good, you’re still here.’ She raised herself up one elbow and gently traced a finger down his cheek. ‘I would have been most disappointed to find that you’d left some time during the night.’
‘And I would have been rather disappointed if I’d had been asked to go.’
Cecile slipped off the bed and paused for a minute before covering herself with a skimpy robe. Within minutes she returned with two glasses of orange juice.
‘You can have a coffee later, after you’ve showered.’
Richard placed his empty glass on a bedside table and reached out for her, but she eluded his grasp and slid off the bed.
‘No, no, no. Don’t be in a hurry.’ She pulled a short terry-towelling robe from the wardrobe. ‘Try this for size.’ Then she picked up the glasses. ‘I’ll make some coffee while you’re using the bathroom.’
The pulsating shower gently pummelled his body back to wakefulness. As he rinsed the soap from his limbs, Richard felt a slight draught. Then the shower curtain parted and Cecile stepped in beside him. ‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ she said, nibbling his ear.
It was mid-morning before Richard reached his office. He smiled sheepishly as Nicole looked first at him and then pointedly at the clock. Without saying a word, she went into the kitchenette made him a cup of coffee.
‘Thanks Nicole,’ he murmured, ‘you’re one in a million.’ He drained the cup and held it out to her. ‘Could I have another?’
Unable to concentrate properly, Richard shoved papers around his desk for half an hour, made a few phone calls, and then decided to have a bite of lunch. When he returned to the office he phoned Cecile’s number. There was no answer.
*
Catherine closed the door after Richard and Cecile and let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. Everything was going to plan. She had barely returned to Peter’s side in the drawing room before the phone rang.
‘It’ll be for me,’ she said, as he reached for the instrument. She listened intently to the person speaking and then remarked, ‘That’s very kind of you.’
When she replaced the instrument Peter looked at her quizzically, ‘Is everything all right? No, unexpected hiccups or anything like that?’
‘No, everything’s fine.’ A faint smile played around her lips. ‘He’s giving Cecile a lift home. So it’s up to her now.’ She took his hand and drew him into the sitting room.
‘Come on, let’s have a quiet drink together. A little victory celebration.’
But Peter held back. ‘Are you sure you’re not being a bit premature?’
CHAPTER NINE
When Catherine awoke the next morning she immediately thought of Richard’s reaction when she had shown him Sir Hugh’s study. He had appeared overwhelmed by the size and atmosphere of the room; the look on his face had been a mixture of surprise, awe and appreciation.
Although Cecile had clearly swept him off his feet, Catherine was keenly aware that he was also attracted to her. And what of her feelings for him? On one hand she saw him as a possible threat to her future at Langley Hall, but on the other she half wished they had met in more auspicious circumstances. If she hadn’t been so determined to discourage potential suitors she just might have ... might have what? The gentle buzz of the alarm clock broke into her thoughts with the reminder that it was time to get up.
She had just returned from exercising Misty when her mobile rang. It was Cecile.
‘Well, how are you this morning?’ she asked, inquisitively. ‘Or rather should I say how did things go last night?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. Yes, everything’s fine.’ Cecile chuckled. ‘He’s quite a lad, your Richard. I might just hang onto him for a while.’ Then in answer to Catherine’s inquiry, she replied, ‘No, he didn’t say anything about Langley Hall. Didn’t mention you or Peter either. Come to think of it, he didn’t say much at all.’ She chuckled again. ‘Had other things on his mind, I’d say.’
‘So are you going to see him again?’
‘We didn’t make any arrangements,’ Cecile replied, ‘but I’m sure he’ll be in touch. I’ll keep him guessing for a few days then he’ll be more eager.’ She laughed softly. ‘Don’t ring me today, because even if I’m here I’m not going to answer the phone.’
‘To keep him guessing?’
‘Yes, the strategy usually works. I find that most men are usually so relieved when they finally get through that they’ll agree to just about anything.’
After she had put down the phone, Catherine sorted through the morning mail. She tore open an envelope with a printer’s logo on the front, scanned the typed page and nodded her head approvingly. The quote for invitation cards was reasonable. She stared out through the window as she reviewed her plans to have a combined celebration of her thirtieth birthday and the acquisition of Langley Hall. A feeling of unease had crept over her since Cousin John’s funeral and she wondered if she should still go ahead with such preparations.
‘Of course, it’ll be all right,’ she murmured. Surely nothing could go wrong in that time. She picked up the phone and rang the printer to confirm the order.
‘I’ll need them by the end of next week at the latest,’ she said, when the proprietor answered.
Her thoughts returned to Richard Carlisle. She wondered what would have happened if she had met him years ago, before she had become involved with that wretched Aussie, before she had made an agreement to marry Peter, before she decided to hide her feelings behind a mantle of coldness. He might have made a good match. They were of a similar age. He was intelligent, successful, and quite charming. And good-looking too.
If he were Elizabeth’s son and the rightful heir to the estate, she might have engineered marriage with him and thus remained as mistress of the estate. But of course that was cold calculation and a pure speculation and it was silly to entertain such ideas. Besides, she knew little about him. She recalled her words to Louise, on the day of the funeral ‘I know his type. He’s probably too accustomed to having his own way.’ She tried to force her mind onto other things, but without any success. For some unknown reason she felt that Richard’s untimely appearance spelled trouble.
*
Peter approached Dave, the gardener, with a feeling of apprehension. He did not want to give the man a wrong impression by showing too much interest in his nephew, but he wanted to find out if the lad could hack into Richard’s computer. And if so, when?
Dave looked up from the flowerbed he was weeding.
‘Morning, guv.’ He clambered to his feet, and cleared his throat noisily. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mr Hamblyn, but I’ve brought my nephew along again. You see, what with the schoo
l holidays and all, his mum wants to get him out from under her feet for a while. I suppose I should have asked you first, but ... ‘ he left the sentence unfinished.
‘That’s okay, as long as he doesn’t get into mischief.’ Peter started to move away and then turned back as if he had suddenly thought of something. ‘If the lad gets under your feet send him up to me; he can explain some of those technical computer terms to me.’
When Gerald knocked on the back door about a half an hour later, Peter explained that he wanted to be shown how to hack into someone’s computer. He watched enthralled as the lad punched in information and picked his way through the seeming minefield of obstacles and passwords. Then with undisguised glee, the youngster laughed.
‘There we are. Now, what are we looking for?’ he asked, in the manner of a co-conspirator. When it was explained to him, Gerald sniggered. ‘No trouble.’
Half an hour later, Peter slipped a ten pound note into the boy’s hand as he let him out the back door. Now there was unmistakable proof that Richard Carlisle intended to make a claim on the estate. A feeling akin to dread tugged at his insides as he read the copies of the man’s correspondence to the various authorities regarding Langley Hall.
This could jeopardise everything. Catherine had already made it clear she would not marry him if she lost the estate. And it would be the end of a new venture he had planned to put into operation after the marriage.
What should he do? If he confronted her with the evidence that Richard was actively seeking to prove his legitimacy to the estate she might berate him for using such under hand tactics. He doubted if Cecile had learned anything of value. She might have the looks of Mata Hari, but he could not imagine Carlisle divulging his plans to someone who just wanted to have a good time.
He glanced at his wristwatch; Murphy should still be at the lockup. He would give him a call and tell him to get a carton of Calvados on the next trip to France. When it arrived it would give him an excuse to visit Carlisle, and if the circumstances were favourable he might even ask him point blank what his intentions were. When the phone remained unanswered, he decided he would drive to the lockup and leave a note of what he wanted.