“I understand.”
“You have an odd look on your face, Paula,” Robin murmured, staring at her intently. “What is it?”
“Are you sure Jonathan couldn’t trace it?”
“I am. You see, I created the trust for Glynnis in the nineteen fifties, with money I had invested in the States. Anyway, the twins won’t inherit the trust until they are twenty-one. Believe me, Paula, John has made sure everything is absolutely watertight.”
“Of course. I know how brilliant he is. But I do have a question, if that’s all right.”
“Fire away, Paula dear.”
“Why did you change your mind about Owen Hughes?”
“He doesn’t need the money But that’s not the real reason.” Robin shook his head, and a sudden sadness settled on his face. “He doesn’t like me, not really, Paula, and he hasn’t made much of an effort toward me. I understand that. He was brought up by Richard Hughes, and Richard was his father in the best sense of that word. I think in his mind I’m just his mother’s lover, and as that perhaps I don’t rate too high.” Robin took her arm, smiled at her warmly. “Besides, I prefer to look to the future … . Those twins also carry my genes … and they are certainly the future.”
She could not move. She was lying at the bottom of the sea, unable to rise to the surface. There was a great weight on her chest, pinning her down.
Tessa struggled against the weight, endeavoring to push it away from her. Panic swamped her, and she experienced a sudden sense of death. Terror leapt through her, held her in its grip; then suddenly, unexpectedly, the weight seemed to shift, and she was floating upward. Spreading out her arms, pushing at the weight of the water, she was free at last … entering the light.
Tessa’s eyes snapped open, and she blinked, glancing around. She was sitting up in bed, the bedclothes in a tangle around her. She had been having a nightmare, but one so vivid, so real, she had been truly terrified.
Pushing the bed linen away from her, she got out of bed, went into the adjoining bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then looked at herself in the mirror. How white and strained her face was, and her eyes were filled with fear. Fear for Jean-Claude. He had vanished into thin air, and ever since Philippe had phoned her, she had been in a state of shock combined with overwhelming terror. She could only think the worst. Whatever her mother and father said, she knew that Afghanistan was a dangerous place, filled with hatred for men like Jean-Claude. There was little likelihood of him getting out alive. Tears came into her eyes, and she reached for a tissue. The thought of him being caught in their net, in mortal danger, was almost too much for her to bear. He might even be dead already.
This possibility made her reel, and she staggered back into the bedroom, lay down, and pressed her face into the pillow. She sobbed for a long time, anguish taking over as she wondered how she would ever find peace again if he was killed.
Part Four
SOLO
There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
—PSALM 91
30
To Linnet, Harte’s was the most wonderful place in the world. She had been going to this great emporium in Knightsbridge almost from the day she was born. Actually, she had gone there even before she was born, because Paula had worked at the store right up to the day before her due date.
Linnet thought of it as an enchanted place, magical even, filled with thousands of items of extraordinary beauty, literally everything the heart could desire, at least when it came to material things. She knew and loved every part of the store, founded by her great-grandmother, especially the Fashion Floors, which she ran. And the magnificent Food Halls … Emma had been so proud of them, and Linnet felt the same way. Her mouth always watered when she passed through them, and there was nothing to compare with them in the entire world.
Harte’s was for her an Aladdin’s cave. It had been her childhood playground … and now it was her true domain.
On this Monday morning, there was no one in the store but her, except for the cleaners and security, and Linnet moved from floor to floor, taking everything in, making copious notes, and endeavoring to visualize the changes she hoped would come to fruition. Some areas received more of her attention than others, such as the Fashion Floors, the floor where the hairdressing salon was located, and the one where mattresses and beds were sold. Those definitely have to be relegated to the furniture department, she muttered under her breath, glancing at the offending mattresses before heading for the escalators.
Having arrived at the store at six o’clock, Linnet was now ready to go back to her office to review her notes and work out a strategy. She glanced at her watch as she went down on the escalator and was surprised to see it was already eight. How the time had flown. It occurred to her then that everything she had seen this morning was indelibly stamped on her brain. She was lucky she had a photographic memory and could recall things without too much effort. It often made her work easier.
Stepping off the elevator when she came to the management floor, she paused in front of the portrait of Emma Harte in its alcove in the corridor. She had been a beautiful woman, looked elegant in her pale blue dress and emeralds, but it was not the beauty that Linnet saw at this moment. Instead it was the power of Emma’s face. The portrait seemed to exude that power and a special magnetism.
Stepping closer to the oil painting, Linnet whispered to it, “You’ve got to be with me on this, Emma. You’ve got to back me to the hilt.” Glancing around to make sure there was no one listening, Linnet added softly, “You promised me.”
Leaning forward, she touched Emma’s face in the painting. “I am with you all the way,” she heard Emma say, as if from a distance, and she smiled at the face in the portrait and moved on.
Linnet told herself she was daft in the head the way she talked to her great-grandmother of late. The strange thing was, Emma spoke back to her … at least Linnet believed she did, was certain she heard Emma’s voice. When she had confessed this to Julian, her husband had not laughed, had simply said, “I believe you, Linny, but don’t tell anybody else.” And she hadn’t; nor did she want to. Emma was in her heart and soul, and in her head most of the time. And she did not want to share her. How well Julian understood this, understood her, understood her needs, her ambitions, her love of this store. But they had been trained to be responsible, as the heirs to two great businesses, and were always in tune.
Once Linnet was sitting behind her desk, she studied her notes, jotted down additional thoughts, and then sat back, contemplating her mother. Paula had agreed to see her this morning, to discuss the memos she had taken to Yorkshire over the weekend. But Linnet was nervous about doing it today, having sensed over the weekend that her mother was on edge, worried about Tessa, and Jean-Claude’s disappearance in Afghanistan. Then there had been the trouble with Priscilla Marney, lover of Jonathan Ainsley
Leaning back in her chair, Linnet thought about that situation for a moment, a grim smile on her face. At least her mother had had the good grace to admit to Linnet that she had been right. She had forever insisted that there was someone in their midst telling Jonathan about them, but no one had believed her. “She spoke to him only about the events she catered,” Paula had pointed out. Linnet thought her mother was being a trifle dismissive and had countered, “That’s bad enough, isn’t it, Mummy? He always knew when we were all together in one place. He could have dropped a bomb on us.”
Her mother had protested this comment and had immediately gone on to tell her about the deaths of Molly and Melinda Caldwell. The moment they had hung up on Saturday afternoon, Linnet had phoned India to commiserate with her in general, and then she had spoken briefly to Tessa, who was so distraught it was impossible to make her feel any better.
Linnet knew that she must telephone her sister now, to ask if there was any news about Jean-Claude.
P
ulling the phone closer, she dialed Pennistone Royal. It was Tessa who answered, her voice high-pitched with tension.
“It’s Linnet. Have you had any news?”
“No, not a word,” Tessa answered, sounding sorrowful. Linnet knew that Tessa was disappointed it wasn’t Jean-Claude himself calling.
“I’m a nervous wreck. I really feel like going to Paris, being there with Philippe, but Lorne says that’s a silly idea. Anyway, I’m trying to work here in the library on my laptop, and then I’m going to go to the Harrogate store this afternoon. Lorne keeps telling me I have to keep busy.”
“Is he there with you?” Linnet asked.
“Yes, thank goodness. Mummy and Dad have gone to London this morning.”
“How’s Adele?”
Tessa’s voice lifted slightly when she exclaimed, “Wonderful . I’m trying to spend lots of time with her. She cheers me up.” There was a small pause, and Tessa dropped her voice to a whisper as she asked, “Did Mummy tell you?”
Linnet said, “About what?”
Tessa detected the puzzlement in her sister’s voice and replied, “Obviously she didn’t. I’m pregnant … . Jean-Claude and I are having a baby.”
“Oh, my God! Tessa! That’s great. Congratulations—” Linnet suddenly stopped. “No wonder you’re so worried,” she hurried on. “I mean, being pregnant makes everything even more worrisome, doesn’t it? But he’ll make it …” Her voice trailed off lamely.
“Yes,” Tessa said, sounding suddenly very tired. “I’ve got to believe he will. That keeps me going.”
“If you don’t feel up to driving over to the Harrogate store today, maybe India can pop in.”
“She has her hands full, wouldn’t you say? What with the Leeds store and Dusty. And all his problems.”
“I suppose so. On the other hand, their problems are not as troubling as yours. Let me know if I can do anything, and please phone me if you have any news. We’re all anxious, Tessa.”
“I will, I promise. The minute I hear.”
A few seconds later Linnet was speaking to India, who was just about to leave Willows Hall for Harte’s in Leeds. “I’m glad you’re coping all right, India,” Linnet went on. “But Tessa sounds terrible. Depressed and sad, and no wonder. I told her not to worry about the Harrogate store today, I mean going over there. Is there really any need?”
“No, and I did mention that yesterday, sure and I did, Linnet. Still, Lorne’s there, and he’s telling her she should keep busy. She’s trying, God bless her. I’m praying for her, and for Jean-Claude. I can just imagine how she feels. Desperate. Because I’d feel the same way if Dusty were missing in a war zone.”
“So would I, and how is Dusty?”
“Oh, you know him, he’s like the Hartes, tough. And so he’s coping. He’s a real trouper when things go wrong. He’s been really sad about Molly, though, grieving, and also troubled about the way Melinda died. But … well … he’s handling things. Actually, he’s planning their funerals at the moment.”
“Oh, God, what an awful task he has, and by the way, India, what has he told Atlanta?”
“Nothing about her mother’s death. Atlanta doesn’t, I mean, didn’t, know her mother well, in fact, hardly at all. It was Molly who brought her up.” India sighed. “He told her that her grandmother had gone on a trip to see the angels and left it at that. Naturally she asked a lot of questions, but we’ve managed to appease her for the moment. And she’s very fond of Gladys, who’s here with us and who’s turned out to be a jewel.”
“I sometimes wonder about us, India. I mean about the family. We do seem to have more than our fair share of troubles.”
“It’s funny you should say that. I made the same remark to Dusty at breakfast.”
“Paula says that it’s because we’re such a big family, and there are so many of us, with the clans, there’re bound to be problems and a crisis a minute. That was the way she put it.”
“I expect she’s right. I’ve got to run, Linny, but I’ll talk to you later.”
Tessa’s news about her pregnancy had stunned Linnet. She thought of her elder half sister as being very calculating, and clever about running her life. Especially these days. There had been the awful debacle with Mark Longden and the bitter divorce, but in the end it was Tessa who had ended up the winner, with her freedom, her child, and Mark Longden as far away as possible.
She also wanted to be the head of Harte’s one day. Had she now discarded this ambition? If she asked Grandfather Bryan, Linnet knew he would laugh in her face. He had forever told her that Tessa Fairley would always be her rival. No matter what. And of course he was correct. Yet Tessa was now involved, deeply so, with a famous man who lived in another country, and she was carrying his child. Did she still want the top job? Did she mean to commute between Paris and London? Did she still think of herself as the Dauphine, her mother’s rightful heir? Linnet could only wonder about that at the moment.
Opening one of the folders on her desk, she looked at the e-mails which had passed between her and Bonnadell Enloe. She had more or less worked out the deal with the American businesswoman who had made such a big success out of her day spas, aptly called Tranquillity. There was no doubt in Linnet’s mind that the day spa at Harte’s would be successful.
Turning to a second folder, she went through the notes she had made when she interviewed Bobbi Snyder. Bobbi was a friend of Marietta’s, from the days when Marietta had been single, an art student and living in London. Bobbi was also an American, who had stayed on in London after Marietta left. She had married an Englishman, had a daughter, and had run the Fashion Floor at Harvey Nichols for a number of years. When Marietta had learned from Evan that Linnet needed a high-powered executive to launch the bridal floor, she had recommended her old friend.
As yet Linnet had been unable to hire the admirable Bobbi, but she was hopeful that she could do so in the not-too-distant future.
The third folder on her desk was about her own Fashion Floors. As she opened it, Linnet grimaced, still feeling dismal about the low sales figures. This morning, as she had walked through Fashion, she had been even more convinced that they needed a whole new look.
The fourth folder was about opening a sumptuous shopping area for luxury goods, if her mother would agree. There was a big question mark in Linnet’s mind about that. The other doubt she had, as did Evan, was her mother sanctioning a series of snack bars in the Food Halls. Closing that folder after a quick glance, Linnet suddenly wished she had never given it to Paula to look at this weekend. More than likely it would have brushed her the wrong way.
Closing her eyes, Linnet tried to envision the great emporium as she saw it, how it would look in three months’ … in six months’ time … a year from now. And what she saw in her mind’s eye thrilled her. Somehow she had to make her mother see Harte’s as she saw the store. Not the way it was now but the way it could be. A new look … modernity … fresh ideas … flair as well as taste … delectable clothes from talented young designers … as well as the great personal services the store provided. Affordable real jewelry as a counterpart to high-priced jewels … a floor that catered to brides and only to brides, with services, a wedding planner, even a link to honeymoon travel … and the day spa designed to pamper women of all ages.
Sitting up in the chair, Linnet exclaimed out loud, “A shake-up. That’s what Harte’s needs. A shake-up and a shove into the twenty-first century!”
I’ll say that to my mother, Linnet now thought, anticipating the meeting. And I’ll ask her to name me creative director. She knew her mother would, since it had been her father’s suggestion some time ago. Her mother listened to him; she always had.
Picking up the phone, Linnet dialed Evan, who answered after a few rings.
“Are you all right?” Linnet asked. “You don’t sound so great.”
“Hi, Linnet! I’m okay, I guess. I’m just so big … huge. And I have a feeling Robin and Winston are going to pop out any minute now.”
>
“Oh, Evan, you’ve chosen the names!” -
“I forgot to tell you, Gideon and I decided on them last week. I like the sound of Robin Harte and Winston Harte the Third, don’t you?”
“I do indeed. But will your father?”
“Oh, you mean we should have used Dad’s name for one of the boys?” There was a pause, and Evan let out a long sigh. “I can’t worry about that, you know. Anyway, Robin is actually Robin Owen, so that should pacify him. But he hasn’t been overly friendly with us, Linnet. I haven’t really told you, I guess, but he’s been quite cold to Robin, Winston, and Gideon, and I wouldn’t call his attitude warm toward me, either.”
“No, you didn’t say a thing, but how awful. What’s wrong, do you think?” Linnet asked.
“The Hartes, that’s what’s wrong. I am one. I married one. I’m carrying little Hartes. I think he has quite a hatred for the family. Deep down, that is. He probably doesn’t even know it. It’s probably well and truly buried.”
Startled, Linnet was silent for a moment.
Evan said, “Are you still there, Linny?”
“Yes. Listen, if he hates the Hartes the way you say, you don’t think he would … betray us, go over to Angharad, do you?”
“No, of course not!” Evan exclaimed. “He doesn’t have much time for her. And I know he loves me. He just has to get over this … jealousy he has. That’s what I think it is. So does my mother. I came to London, got a job at Harte’s, fell in love with a Harte, discovered I was a Harte. The way he sees it, according to my mother, is that he lost me to this powerful family. He forgets that he’s a Harte, too.”
Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga) Page 33