Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga)

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  He laughed, his light eyes twinkling mischievously as he took her crystal flute and hurried over to the drinks table. Edwina watched him go, thinking it was about time he got married, too.

  Within seconds Lorne was back at her side, handing her the glass. He touched his to hers and murmured, “Cheers.”

  She smiled at him over the rim, exclaimed, “Down the hatch,” and took a long swallow.

  “So, a penny for your thoughts, Great-Aunt.”

  “Actually, I was thinking about your mother,” Edwina admitted. “She doesn’t look like her usual self, Lorne. Or is that my imagination?”

  “No, it’s not, I agree with you,” he responded, placing his arm along the chair back, bending over her. In a lowered voice, Lorne went on. “I think Mum’s under the weather, and I’ve thought that for a while now, actually. She seems somehow slightly … depleted, that’s the only word I can come up with. I’ve asked her, and Dad as well, if there’s anything wrong, and they’ve both denied it. In fact, they seemed truly dumbfounded that I even asked such a question.”

  “Could she be worrying about Jonathan Ainsley being in Yorkshire?” Edwina suggested, looking at him keenly.

  “You know what, I think everyone around here tends to exaggerate about him. I think he’s more of a specter hovering than an actual threat. But to answer your question, yes, I think she does worry about him.”

  Edwina nodded and then exclaimed, “Oh, there’s the lovely Jack. Linnet didn’t tell me he was coming to supper. He’s a favorite of mine, Lorne.”

  “He’s everybody’s favorite,” Lorne answered with a laugh. “Especially the ladies. I think I’ll have to borrow a few tricks from his book.”

  “I’m sure you’re just as popular as he is,” Edwina chided and went on, “I see Emsie over there, but where’s Desmond?”

  “He’s at boarding school, Great-Aunt Edwina.”

  “Oh, yes, of course he is, and your mother is beckoning to you,” Edwina said. “Goodness me, she looks as if she’s about to make an important announcement.”

  When Paula made her way across the Stone Hall, heading for the staircase, everyone present knew that she had something special to say to them. All family announcements were made from these steps; it was a tradition which had begun with Emma.

  Shane was behind her, and as she beckoned to Lorne, her son patted Edwina’s arm and hurried to join his mother and stepfather. Linnet and Emsie were also walking over to the staircase and took up positions near their parents and brother.

  “We have some wonderful news!” Paula began, reaching for Shane’s hand, drawing closer to him. “Shane and I are happy to tell you all that Tessa has become engaged to Jean-Claude!” As Paula finished speaking, Tessa and Jean-Claude walked over to the stairs and stood smiling at the group as everyone called out congratulations.

  Shane exclaimed over the din, “Let’s raise our glasses to Tessa and Jean-Claude, and wish them much happiness in their life together.”

  Everyone did as Shane asked, and once the toasting was over, Tessa came forward a few steps, bringing Jean-Claude with her. “Thank you all so much. If you’re surprised about this sudden announcement, then I must tell you that I am, too! It was just before lunch today that Jean-Claude asked me to marry him, and I must admit I was taken aback. But only momentarily, and I said yes to him. Immediately.” Turning to look at Jean-Claude, still clinging to his hand, Tessa continued, “I think I’m the luckiest woman alive to have you.”

  Jean-Claude put his arm around her, brought her closer to him, and kissed her cheek, then, looking around at the group of family members, he said, “I thank you for your good wishes. And I’m the lucky one!” Turning to Paula and Shane, he added, “And I promise you both I shall treasure Tessa, take care of her always. I want you both to know she’s safe with me.”

  “Yes, we do know that,” Paula answered as Shane stepped forward to shake Jean-Claude’s hand.

  After that there was a lot of hugging and kissing. Linnet, Emsie, and Lorne were in the forefront, enveloping Tessa in their arms, and then they went to Jean-Claude to shake his hand. And the others all crowded around, kissing Tessa, offering their congratulations and best wishes to her and Jean-Claude.

  It was Tessa who finally said, “Thanks, all of you, but I’m afraid I must now dash off to the kitchen—or we won’t have any dinner tonight!”

  “I shall accompany you, chérie,” Jean-Claude said.

  “No, no, I can manage, and Margaret’s there to help me. Besides, Jean-Claude, you’d better stay and get to know my family … those that are here tonight at least. I dread to tell you how big it really is!”

  Bryan O’Neill walked slowly across the floor, making for his favorite grandchild. Linnet.

  When she saw him, she gave Lorne an apologetic smile and hurried over to her grandfather. “I can see you’re looking for me, Grandpops. Do you need anything?”

  “Only a few more years on this earth, so that I can bounce your babies on my knee,” he murmured and took hold of her arm, led her to a far corner of the Stone Hall. Together they sat down, and Bryan, leaning forward, said, “She may not let her ambitions go to waste just because she is marrying Jean-Claude. Knowing Tessa the way I do, I’m sure she thinks she can live in Paris and London, somehow commute in order to head up Harte’s. She’s always wanted the top job, Linnet, you know that.”

  “I do, Grandfather, and you’re right, Tessa may well think she can run things from Paris. But let’s not forget, Mummy’s still the boss, and she has absolutely no intention of retiring. She’s only in her early fifties for goodness’ sake.”

  Bryan smiled, and took her hand in his. “Such small, capable hands,” he murmured. “Just like Emma’s. I remember her hands very well; she took care of me when I was a baby and a toddler with those hands. But then you know all that. Watch your step, Linnet, and keep your eyes peeled … as sweet and lovely as Tessa is being to you at the moment, she is still your archrival. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I won’t, I promise, Gramps. We all know she’s the way she is because she’s the firstborn, the eldest.”

  “True. But that was never Emma’s way of passing on power. The person best equipped to do the job got it. And I’m sure your mother thinks the same thing; after all, she was trained by Emma Harte.”

  Linnet nodded, leaned forward. “I’ve got some good ideas for bringing the store into the present. It needs a whole new approach, and I want to talk to Mummy about a few changes once the wedding is over.”

  “Yes. But please wait awhile, Linnet,” Bryan replied quietly. “She’s had a lot of pressure on her since well before Christmas. Just take it easy for the moment. All right?”

  “Yes. Oh, Gramps, there’s Evan looking for us. Come on, let’s go and see what she wants. She seems a bit concerned.”

  “And she looks to me as if she’s about to give birth any minute,” Bryan muttered, half to himself. “Do you think she can last until after the wedding?”

  Linnet burst out laughing. “She’ll just have to, won’t she?”

  Bryan simply smiled, made no further comment as they crossed the Stone Hall to the spot where Evan had suddenly paused. She was beckoning them. His eyes went across the room to Robin Ainsley, who was about to become a great-grandfather. That can’t please Jonathan very much, Bryan thought, and wondered whether the black sheep of the family was planning anything diabolical for next Saturday. He prayed to God he was not.

  Evan said, when they came to a stop, “I got a bit out of breath and had to pause for a moment. Anyway, Great-Aunt Edwina wants a word with you, Linnet, if you could please come over to her.”

  “Of course. But is she all right?”

  “Oh, yes, she’s perfectly fine. She says to tell you she’s had a brain wave.”

  Laughing, Linnet glided across to Edwina, whose face lit up when she saw Linnet moving in her direction.

  “What’s your brain wave, Great-Aunt?” Linnet was asking her a moment later, crouching
down next to the chair.

  Drawing Linnet closer, Edwina said, “I think I’ve solved the problem of that wretched Jonathan Ainsley. Gideon and Evan must elope. And right away.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Linnet said, although she knew it wouldn’t work because of Evan’s condition. The babies could be premature and she decided to say this to Edwina, who was looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

  “Oh, yes, you’re right. I’d forgotten that part. Drat. Mmmmm. Well, they should have eloped a long time ago. If they had, everyone wouldn’t be worried about Jonathan pulling a stunt next Saturday.”

  Linnet didn’t answer. She’d just had a brain wave of her own. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, Great-Aunt Edwina,” she murmured and went in search of Jack Figg, bursting to confide her idea to him. It was brilliant; never had she been more certain of anything.

  Linnet found Jack talking with Julian, and the two men welcomed her enthusiastically. Her husband put his arm around her and drew her closer to them while Jack gave her a huge smile.

  “Looking more beautiful than ever tonight, I see, Beauty,” he told her, and, turning to Julian, he added, “You’re one lucky chap, I can tell you!”

  “Oh, I know that,” Julian answered, grinning at the older man, whom he’d known most of his life.

  Linnet said, “Thanks, Jack, for your lovely compliment. But listen, I’ve just had a brainstorm. Let’s move over there, away from everyone, so I can tell you both.”

  Jack nodded, and the three of them slid toward the library door where they could be alone, leaving the others grouped in the vicinity of the fireside.

  “We’d better not go into the library,” Linnet cautioned, “we’ll be missed. Let’s just stand here. What I have to say won’t take a minute.”

  “I’m all ears,” Julian murmured.

  Jack said, “Okay, kid, shoot.”

  “A few minutes ago Great-Aunt Edwina suddenly said Gideon and Evan should elope. To avoid any trouble the ghastly J.A. might bring down on them. I explained to her that it was too late, that they couldn’t go rushing off to Gretna Green, or anywhere else for that matter. And of course she understood.” Linnet paused, looked from Julian to Jack, and said, “And then I had a sudden flash of … inspiration.”

  “So tell us then,” Julian urged.

  In a low voice she explained the plan that had evolved in her head in the last few minutes, her attention riveted on Jack Figg.

  When she had finished, Jack nodded, his face reflective; after a moment he asked, “Are you sure they’ll do what you want?”

  “I don’t know, Jack, to be honest. But Gideon and I have been best friends all of our lives, and I think he’ll see the sense of it.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jack said, and a cheerful smile suddenly slid onto his face. “You’re a clever lass, Linnet. Very clever.”

  “She is indeed,” her husband agreed. “And knowing Gideon, I’m sure he’ll go along, and he’ll talk the others into it.”

  “Let’s go back and join the group,” Linnet murmured, edging toward the center of the Stone Hall. “We’ll get together tomorrow, Jack, and discuss it. You are staying the night, aren’t you?”

  “Your mother and father insisted,” he said and then explained, “They didn’t want me driving if I’d had a few drinks.”

  “And you have to do that. You have to toast Tessa’s engagement to Jean-Claude,” Linnet replied succinctly.

  “Yes, indeed. And that’s another story in the making,” Jack announced, looking from Linnet to Julian, his eyes narrowing.

  Julian grinned, a knowing look in his eyes.

  Linnet said nothing. Her face was as inscrutable as Emma Harte’s had often been when it was wiser to conceal innermost thoughts and feelings. A still tongue and a wise head—that had been Emma’s motto, and it was Linnet’s also.

  13

  There was no question in Dusty’s mind that Molly Caldwell was a very sick woman, much worse than Gladys Roebotham had indicated on Saturday.

  Now, on Monday afternoon, he stood next to her bed in the ICU of Leeds Infirmary, forcing a smile onto his face as she looked up at him, her dark brown eyes locked on his. She was extremely pale and strung up to tubes, but the nurse had removed the one from her mouth so she could speak.

  “But you can only stay a couple of minutes,” the nurse had warned as she slipped out of the room, leaving them alone.

  “Atlanta?” Molly whispered and looked as if she was about to say something else.

  He held up his hand and said in a gentle voice, “Don’t exert yourself, Molly, please. Let me do the talking … . Atlanta’s all right. She’s with me, safe and sound at Willows Hall. Gladys brought her over to me, as you instructed.”

  Molly’s brown eyes lit up, and she blinked, said in a parched voice, “She’s a good woman. Is Atlanta … asking for me?”

  “Yes, she is, to be truthful. But Gladys dreamed up a story that you’d hurt your leg, so we’re sticking to that. She thinks you’re getting your leg mended, and that you’ll soon be home. And you will be, Molly. I spoke to your doctor this morning, and he’s very positive about you making a full recovery.”

  A faint smile touched her mouth, and in a low, almost inaudible voice, she said, “Melinda must never have her, Dusty. Never.” There was a short pause as Molly appeared to struggle for breath, and then she whispered, “Promise me.”

  Startled though he was by this demand, he said swiftly, “Of course I promise. Melinda’s not really capable of looking after her, even though she is apparently getting better in the detox clinic.”

  Ignoring this comment, Molly continued, “Atlanta must be with you at all costs … . You must bring her up.”

  For a split second he searched her face, and then he nodded and, endeavoring to reassure her, said, “I will bring her up, I promise, and she’ll be with me at the house until she goes to boarding school. I’ll look after her until she’s grown up. But listen, you’ll be doing that, love, you’ll be out of here in a few days, recuperating at home with Atlanta. I’ll hire a nurse to look after you, and any other help you need.”

  Molly made no answer, she simply gazed up at him for a long moment, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.

  At once he became alarmed. The last thing he wanted was for her to grow agitated or upset. Rest and quiet was what she needed, the doctor had told him that.

  “Molly, don’t fret, love. I’ll take care of you and Atlanta, and Melinda as well.”

  “She doesn’t deserve you,” Molly muttered, “and she mustn’t have the child.”

  Dusty stared down at Molly Caldwell, not only startled again by her words but also perturbed. She had sounded annoyed, even angry, and was obviously displeased with her daughter. Taking hold of Molly’s hand, he squeezed it and said, “I’ll come to see you tomorrow, love.”

  She gave him a faint smile, and her trust and belief in him shone in her dark eyes.

  In the corridor, Dusty paused, took a deep breath, and leaned against the wall. He was worried about Molly. His gut instinct told him that she was truly ill, that she might be plagued with heart trouble for the rest of her life. Although her physician had told him she would be able to go home in a week, Dusty wasn’t at all sure about this now. She looked drained, depleted, not at all like herself.

  But then she’d had a heart attack on Friday, he reminded himself. Of course she wasn’t herself. Pulling himself together, he glanced around, wondering if he should ask to see the heart surgeon, Mr. William Larchmont, the heart specialist who was in charge of Molly’s case. It had always struck him as strange that surgeons in different branches of medicine were called mister rather than doctor. Could Larchmont add anything? Dusty doubted it. And Dr. Bloom had been noncommittal earlier that morning, when Dusty had telephoned him at his office in Meanwood. “She’ll pull through. She’ll be all right” was all he had said.

  Shrugging into his sheepskin coat, Dusty strode across the foyer, nodded to the nurse at the reception
desk, and took the elevator down to the ground floor. Crossing the lobby, he pushed through the glass doors and went out into the street; instantly, he regretted that he had sent Paddy Whitaker and the car back to Harrogate. The weather had changed in the hour he had been at Leeds General Infirmary, and for the worse.

  It was a raw afternoon, bone-chilling cold, the air layered with that awful northern dampness that seemed to infiltrate the entire body. He lifted his head, stared at the sky, saw that it was the color of lead, hard and unmoving, without a single cloud to give it life. It hangs there like a shroud, he thought, and shivered involuntarily, pulled up the collar of the coat, stuck his hands in his pockets as he strode out, moving as quickly as he could without actually running.

  Leeds had never been his favorite place. This tough, bustling, and bleak industrial city had always intimidated him when he was growing up, and he had been glad to leave when he won a scholarship to the Royal College of Art in London. Funnily enough, he had immediately settled into his digs in Belsize Park, on the fringe of Hampstead, and in London he had never felt any kind of intimidation. Because he was older then? Was that the reason? He wasn’t sure. No, of course he knew the reason. London was a beautiful city architecturally, and beauty of any kind had always thrilled him, brought to him enormous joy, expectation, hope for the future. His future.

  He pushed these thoughts away, wondering where to go for a hot drink; he had time to waste before he went to Harte’s to collect India. They would drive back to Willows Hall together, and she would stay the night. He knew how much she liked Atlanta, and the child liked her, but he was reluctant about encouraging them to bond. He did not want to burden India with a child who was not hers, yet she constantly protested that Atlanta was not a burden.

  He must strive to believe India, understand her better. It was this lack of understanding on his part that had created their problems. She was a good person, bright and intelligent, a smart young woman, and, oh, how he loved her. Loved her beauty, her sexuality, her manners. And the way she handled herself so perfectly normally with everyone, whether she was talking to the cook, the housekeeper, Atlanta, himself, or her grandmother, the Dowager Countess. She treated all in exactly the same way.