Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga)

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “It’s a Welsh name.”

  “Oh, yes, I know.” A smile suddenly illuminated Edwina’s wrinkled face, and her wise old eyes became brighter. “Glynnis Hughes loved Welsh names. She was very Welsh, you know, very much into Celtic lore and all that kind of thing. I was close to her at one point in our lives. I liked her, and I suppose—” Edwina broke off, shook her head. “I suppose I was the one who helped to facilitate their love affair.”

  “I heard the story about Glynnis and Robin. About them never really giving each other up. Fifty years together. Evan told me the other day when I got back from New York. Quite romantic, wasn’t it?”

  Edwina nodded. “It was. Very. But fraught, and they ran a lot of risks, were almost caught out many times.”

  “They should have just divorced their spouses and married each other, that would have been the best thing,” Linnet pronounced, sounding like Emma Harte, the great pragmatist.

  “Glynnis didn’t think like that, Linnet dear,” Edwina confided. “She was the one who stayed the course, in relation to their marriages, that is. She made Robin stay with Valerie. You see, she didn’t want him to ruin his political career.”

  “Would it really have been such a scandal? Could it have actually brought him down?” Linnet asked curiously.

  “Absolutely. He would have had to resign his seat, leave Parliament.”

  “Gosh, that wouldn’t happen today, would it? Politicians do all sorts of things and get away with it! They can practically commit murder, so to speak, without there being any repercussions.”

  “That’s now. This was then. The fifties. People were not so permissive, or so forgiving either. The slightest thing could be interpreted as scandalous and cause great hurt. However, let us get back to the Hughes family today. I can’t see why Emily wouldn’t have them to stay. The whole of the Hughes family, I mean. But if there is any kind of problem, you know the young women can stay with me at Niddersley House.”

  “Thank you, Great-Aunt Edwina, you’re a brick.” Linnet sat back, sipping her champagne, relaxing slightly, and thinking about Angharad meeting Edwina. She had to swallow her laughter. Edwina would frighten the girl to death. Or would she? There was something about Evan’s sister that puzzled Linnet; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but a word suddenly jumped into her head. Schemer. Yes, that was it! She felt that the girl was not only manipulative but an opportunist and a dissembler. Perhaps even dishonest in relationships. I have to talk to Gideon about that, ask him what he thinks of Angharad Hughes, she thought. She had a feeling her cousin had not taken to Evan’s sister.

  Suddenly, hearing footsteps echoing at the other end of the Stone Hall, Linnet leaned forward and said to Edwina, “It’s Uncle Robin, and he’s very early.” Putting down her glass, she got up, and again whispering, she said emphatically to her great-aunt, “You’ve got to make him understand that they cannot stay with him.”

  Edwina inclined her head, answered in a low voice, “I know what to say, my dear. Leave it to me.”

  “Uncle Robin! We’re over here,” Linnet exclaimed, hurrying forward to meet him, her face full of smiles, her eyes warm.

  They came together in the middle of the Stone Hall, and after kissing Robin on the cheek, she asked, “What would you like? Scotch? Champagne?”

  “Ah, yes, I wouldn’t mind a bit of the bubbly. Thanks, Linny. And it’s so nice to see you, and looking so well, you’re positively blooming.”

  As Robin walked toward the fire, he called out, “Good evening, Edwina, I see you got here before me. As usual, the early bird catching the worm.”

  Linnet gave them a few minutes alone, pouring champagne in a crystal flute for her great-uncle. Robin Ainsley had been Emma’s favorite son, just as he had always been Edwina’s favorite brother. Edwina had usually tried to be on his side, to back him to the hilt, her mother had told her long ago when Paula had been recounting some of the family history. Linnet enjoyed hearing those stories, relishing them, and she was inordinately proud to be a Harte, and most especially to be Emma’s clone, as the family said she was.

  Putting the bottle of Pol Roger back in the silver ice bucket, Linnet carried the flute of champagne over to Robin, who was sitting on the large overstuffed sofa.

  “Good health,” Robin said, raising his glass first to Edwina and then to Linnet, smiling at them both.

  “Good health,” Linnet repeated.

  “Down the hatch!” Edwina added in her sonorous voice and took a good swallow of the Pol Roger, thinking that she only ever drank this champagne here at Pennistone Royal.

  Looking across at Robin, Edwina said slowly, “I’m trying to remember why our mother had such a fondness for Pol Roger. I could swear it had to do with her brother Frank.”

  “No, it had to do with Churchill,” Robin corrected. “He was her great hero, and apparently his favorite champagne was Pol Roger. So it became hers.”

  “True, but not quite the whole story.” Edwina threw her half brother a somewhat smug look and went on. “Her brother knew Winston Churchill. Remember, he was a journalist and was constantly writing about him even before Churchill became the P.M. It was because of him that Emma stocked Pol Roger. Her brother told her it was the only one Winston enjoyed. Frank liked it, too. I remember that.”

  “Got to hand it to you, Edwina, you recall everything. And you’re correct about the Churchill story. Mother met him during the war, at some incredible bomb site with enormous damage, and she never let any of us forget he had shaken her hand and thanked her for her war effort.”

  “It’s true. I was living in Ireland, but I heard the story from Uncle Winston.”

  The three of them fell silent for a second, and then Robin cleared his throat and said, “When you phoned to invite me to dinner, you said you wanted me to come early, Linnet. And I see Edwina is here early, too, so I can only deduce that you have some Harte business to discuss with us both.”

  “No. Hughes business, Uncle Robin. With you. I need to explain a situation that’s developed, and then Edwina has something to say to you.”

  He leaned back against the pile of needlepoint cushions, looking from Linnet to Edwina, his expression nonplussed. When neither of them said anything, he turned to Linnet. “Well, come on then, let’s have it. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Do you know where Jonathan is at the moment?”

  Robin shook his head. “He was in London. I think he went back to Paris before returning to Hong Kong.”

  “He’s in Yorkshire, Uncle Robin, at his new house in Thirsk.”

  It was obvious that Robin did not know this; he sat up straighter on the sofa, shaking his head. “I haven’t heard a word from him. He usually calls at some point when he’s in Yorkshire, even though we’re not exactly close pals at the moment. How long has he been here?”

  “Several days. Jack Figg phoned me this morning to tell me his whereabouts. He’s worried, Uncle Robin. He thinks that Jonathan might get confrontational with Owen or Evan if he runs into them.”

  “He’s not likely to do that, Linnet. Really.” Robin shook his head. “How on earth could he run into them?”

  “At Lackland Priory. Your house. You’re insisting the Hughes family stay with you, and Jonathan could easily stroll in unannounced to see you. Or perhaps he’ll get wind that they’re staying with you and come over, hellbent on making trouble somehow. That’s his nature.”

  “Oh, my dear, I do think you’re letting your imagination run away with you. Jonathan is not a frequent visitor, I’ve told you that before. And especially now that he knows categorically his inheritance is perfectly safe. He doesn’t feel the need to hover around me. As for a confrontation with Owen or Evan, he’s got nothing to gain anymore, so why would he even bother?”

  “Jealousy, envy, perversity, the desire to upset you,” Linnet suggested pithily. “Or to get his own back at you for having the audacity to have another son. You name it, and I bet it would fit the bill and then some.”

&nbs
p; “I think you’re exaggerating the situation, Linnet dear,” he said again, shaking his head.

  “Uncle Robin, have you forgotten that Evan was almost killed in a car crash? In a car that belonged to you? A car that was apparently tampered with. You might easily have been mourning your only grandchild at this time, a woman who’s currently carrying your great-grandsons, instead of getting ready to celebrate her wedding a week today. Anyway, he’s capable of doing bodily harm to one of us, or using a paid assailant. Mummy told me he once locked Emily in the cellar at Pennistone Royal and she was lost for hours. And so scared Grandy had to take her to the doctor. She had nightmares. I’d say he’s still dangerous, Uncle Robin.”

  Robin bit his lip. He sat pondering, worry invading his face.

  It was Edwina who spoke up resolutely. “You’d better listen to Linnet, Robin. She’s making a lot of sense. I suspect Jonathan is up here because of Evan’s wedding to Gideon. I don’t trust that son of yours. Never have. And neither did our mother; she thought he was a treacherous devil. As the eldest and head of the family, I must insist you change your plans about housing the Hughes family at Lackland Priory. They cannot be on your premises; at least they can’t be your houseguests. That’s tempting Providence. Jonathan would be over there in a flash, and the balloon would go up.”

  “How would he even know they were staying with me?”

  “He’d know!” Linnet exclaimed. “I’ve always said he’s got a spy in our camp, although no one ever really believes me.”

  “Not that awful secretary at the Leeds store?” Robin asked, staring at Linnet, horror written all over his face.

  “No, not Eleanor, Uncle Robin, don’t look so appalled. Jonathan’s not going to marry her. That romance is long over. There’s someone else, although I’m baffled about who it is. But as sure as God made little green apples, he’s got someone giving him a lot of information about us.”

  “Can’t Jack find out?” Edwina asked, her attention on Linnet for a split second.

  “No, because we don’t know exactly where to begin. And we’ve gone through all the possible suspects ages ago. But one day he or she will be revealed. In the meantime, Uncle Robin, Jonathan probably knows already that Owen and Marietta and the adoptees are coming to Yorkshire on Monday, and that they are to be your honored visitors.”

  “Adoptees is not a very nice way to describe those girls, Linnet,” Robin muttered reprovingly. “Glynnis was very fond of them.”

  Edwina guffawed and exclaimed, “Like hell she was! She cared only about Evan, had eyes only for her biological granddaughter because she’s part of you, and you know that very well. Let’s not forget you don’t have to keep up the pretense anymore, Robin. The whole family knows you were with Glynnis until the day she died. Well, practically. Evan was no surprise to you. You knew all about her, and Owen you’d known since he was a child. Now listen to me, my dear.” Edwina leaned closer and continued in a tone that forbade argument. “The Hughes family has to be lodged at Allington Hall with Emily and Winston, and if they don’t have room for the two girls, Angharad and Elayne can come and stay with me at Niddersley. And that’s the end of it.”

  “Oh, but Edwina, I was so looking forward to being with Owen. Don’t forget, I’ve been deprived of him all of my life … my son by the only woman I ever loved—”

  “Oh, don’t be such a sentimental old fool!” Edwina snapped, although not unkindly. “You can pop over to Allington Hall to see Owen whenever you want, and once the wedding is over and Jonathan has returned to Hong Kong, you can visit with Owen as much as you wish. Furthermore, you can go and stay with him in America after he returns there. There’s nothing to stop you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m well enough to go tripping off to New York,” Robin protested.

  “You look spry enough to me,” Edwina asserted and patted his hand. “Let us do the best we can to get Evan married to Gideon without the proverbial hitch. Once they are safely married and installed at Beck House, you can do whatever you want with Owen. My main concern is for that granddaughter of yours. She’s the only one you’ve got to continue your family line, and don’t you forget that.”

  “All right,” Robin replied in a meek voice. “I expect you’re right, Edwina. I can’t ever remember you being wrong, except for the years when you cut Mother out of your life. But everything you say tonight is true. Evan is of the utmost importance. We must, I must, consider her first.”

  “Thank you, Robin,” Edwina murmured, falling back against the chair, looking exceedingly relieved.

  Linnet smiled at him, also relaxing, for the first time that day.

  Edwina sat in splendor, looking every inch the countess, smiling warmly and greeting everyone with her special brand of charm and graciousness.

  Finally they had all arrived, and she leaned back in her chair near the fireplace, sipping from her glass of champagne and observing the scene being enacted before her in the Stone Hall.

  Tonight this room looked as wonderful as it had in her mother’s day, filled as it was with chrysanthemum plants and white orchids, the fire blazing up the hearth, the candlelight flickering, and the softly shaded lamps giving off a warm glow. How welcoming it was.

  There was a faint buzz of conversation as everyone moved around to spend a few minutes talking to each other. It was a most cordial and convivial atmosphere, and this pleased Edwina. My mother would be proud, she suddenly thought. Most of those present tonight are her progeny, and they are rather special, even if I do say so myself.

  She focused momentarily on Tessa, and then Lorne. The twins were also part Fairley, and it was the Fairley looks they had inherited. They had the pale complexion, silvery eyes, and blond hair of the famous beauty Adele Fairley, mother of Edwin, who had been Edwina’s father and for whom she was named.

  Edwina’s eyes moved on to the Frenchman, and she wondered where that affair was going. Would he propose to Tessa? She hoped so. The best thing that could happen to Tessa would be to marry him.

  Edwina liked the charismatic and brilliant Jean-Claude and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would be a stable and loving partner, and a good influence on her great-niece. And how beautiful she looked tonight, the ethereal Tessa. She was wearing a pair of narrow-cut pants, a camisole, and a narrow coat, which came to her knees and was somewhat in the style of the Indian Nehru jacket. The outfit was made of silver-gray taffeta, and with it she wore silver-gray Tahitian pearls and earrings. She’s just perfection, Edwina thought, and she hardly looks as if she’s been cooking half the day. But she had made the entire dinner, Linnet had told her that earlier.

  Edwina’s glance moved on, this time settled on Bryan O’Neill, who stood talking with his son, Shane. She was pleased Bryan was looking so well after his bout with bronchitis. Now, fully recovered, he seemed as strong as ever. Tall, broad-shouldered, silver-haired, not to mention silver-tongued, he was the spitting image of his father, Blackie O’Neill.

  For a split second the decades slipped away and she fell down into the past, thinking of Blackie with affection. He had been her mother’s dearest friend until the day he died. And he had been very good to her when she was a young girl, even when she treated him badly.

  Edwina sighed, thinking how unfair she had been to Blackie, who had loved her like his own. For a while, after she had obtained her birth certificate, she had believed he was indeed her father, because his name was on the certificate. But as it turned out, Edwin Fairley had been her father. Blackie had merely lent his name.

  A good man, Blackie O’Neill, Edwina mused, and his son Bryan is a good man. Good Lord, Bryan must be at least eighty-five! He certainly doesn’t look it.

  For a long moment her eyes rested on Shane, Black Irish like his father and grandfather, and another good man. Her mother had once said when he was young that he had an intense glamour, and he still possessed that glamour.

  Shane was the best. He had always been there for Paula, even when she was a child. He was her rock. Edw
ina recalled how upset she had been when trouble had broken out between Paula and Jim Fairley, and their marriage had gone awry. At the time, she had put most of the blame on Paula, but it hadn’t been her fault. It had been Jim’s in reality. He was a Fairley through and through and had inherited Adele’s vanity as well as her drinking problems. He’d had to fight alcoholism, just as Adele and his uncle Gerald Fairley had. Genes, Edwina thought, it’s all in the genes. There’s simply no escaping that.

  Emma had permitted Paula to marry Jim Fairley despite her better judgment, and because she was a fair woman who had no intention of blaming the sins of the grandfather on the grandson. But Emma had always said it wouldn’t work, and it hadn’t. Jim had been the wrong man for Paula; also, deep down, she had been in love with Shane, even though she had not realized that for a long time.

  But then one day, after Jim had been killed in an avalanche in Chamonix, Paula had finally married Shane and lived the life of a contented woman at last. Her happiness with Shane was manifest in everything she did, and Edwina knew she was one woman in the world who was at peace with herself.

  No sooner had this thought entered her mind than Paula hove into view, came to stand next to Shane, linking her arm through his, leaning against him. He looked down at her and smiled and drew her into him in the most intimate way.

  As always, Paula was elegant, wearing an ankle-length dress of amethyst cashmere and matching suede boots. It was a color that echoed those unique violet eyes, her most striking feature.

  Edwina leaned forward slightly, peering at her niece. She looks exhausted, Edwina thought. And pale. She doesn’t look like her normal energetic self. Is she ill? Or is she worried? Perhaps about the dratted Jonathan Ainsley? Yes, maybe it was just worry, not ill health. No, she’s not ill. She couldn’t be. The Hartes are a robust lot, and we all live to a great age …

  “A penny for your thoughts, Great-Aunt Edwina,” Lorne said, drawing close. “And how about a refill?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, Lorne darling, I don’t want to get tipsy.”