If there were occasions when she panicked, felt alone, stressed out, and even a little afraid, there were many more times when she experienced the thrill of satisfaction, knowing she had pulled off yet another little coup. This might be the new Cholly Chello bag, called Cholly Baby, a smart little evening bag that had not walked, but run, out of the stores in London, Leeds, and Harrogate. Or it might be success with a beauty product or a spa treatment.
And so the days went by.
What started as a soft, drizzling rain had turned into a thunderstorm. Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder echoed like cannon in the distance, and the rain fell in a heavy stream. Jonathan Ainsley cursed under his breath, accepting that he would arrive late in Annecy. He wondered whether he ought to call Angharad in Paris, ask her to speak to her friend Bill Tremoyes. He decided against it. Tremoyes would wait for him; it was to his advantage to do so. Tremoyes wanted connections in China that only Jonathan had.
As Jonathan drove, he contemplated the American financier and tycoon, whom Angharad knew from Connecticut, a man to whom she had apparently sold many priceless antiques. Before embarking on this trip, Jonathan had checked him out, and he was genuine enough. But what could Tremoyes know about the Hartes that would be to his advantage? Angharad had set this meeting up, had sworn to him that she did not know what it was Tremoyes had on the family, or a member of the family. What she did know was that it would be ruinous to them. Tremoyes had confided at least this to her.
So here he was, sitting in his Bentley Continental, driving to the Haute-Savoie in a bloody thunderstorm. And suddenly asking himself why he had listened to Angharad. Did she have an ulterior motive, sending him on this journey? Certainly she was duplicitous, he knew that now. But what motive could she have, except to help him? He knew she was enamored of him, in love with him, actually.
The rain slowly began to lessen, and Jonathan pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, wanting to arrive as soon as possible, have the meeting with the American, and return to Paris early tomorrow. He pushed on, glad to have the empty road in front of him. He increased his speed considerably, turning up the stereo set in the dashboard, enjoying the soaring orchestra, the pianist pouring his very soul into the last movement of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto no. 2 in C minor.
Surging forward, enjoying the speed, the smooth ride, humming to himself, Jonathan Ainsley was unaware of the huge refrigeration truck barreling along the road behind him.
And in the relentless rain, the driver of the truck did not spot the Bentley immediately in front of him until it was too late. The truck rammed the Bentley, pushing it forward at such great speed it went into a tailspin.
Jonathan Ainsley felt the impact from behind and clutched at the wheel, pressed his foot down hard on the brake as the car rode on into a terrifying skid. The Bentley slid across the road, spun around, slid backward, and went off the road onto a bank, rolling over and over as it fell into a deep ravine.
The driver of the humongous truck braked, jumped out, and ran to the edge of the ravine. He looked down, heard the music playing for a split second before the car exploded, the night sky illuminated by the flames. He pulled out his cellular phone to call for an ambulance.
Late one afternoon toward the end of August, Jack Figg buzzed her. “It’s me, Beauty,” he announced when she answered her private line. “Do you have a minute? Can I come up and see you?”
“Of course. Is there a problem, Jack?”
“No. I wouldn’t call it that. Be there in a jiffy.”
Linnet stood up when Jonelle showed him in a few minutes later, and she went around the desk to embrace him. Then she led him to a circular table at one end of her mother’s office and indicated the chairs. “Let’s sit here, Jack, I much prefer it to those dumpy sofas.”
He laughed. “So do I.”
“Do you want a cup of tea?”
“Why not? But only if you are,” he replied, sitting down.
Nodding, Linnet went to the phone, spoke to Jonelle on the intercom, and returned to the table, took a chair opposite Jack.
“How’s your mother?” he asked.
“Great. The South of France has done her good, according to Dad. Julian and I have been trying to get down there off and on for ages, but we’re just too busy right now.”
“I know your routine. It’s twenty-four seven these days, isn’t it, Linny?”
She laughed and looked at the door as Jonelle came in carrying a tea tray. “It’s good over here, please,” Linnet told her, smiling.
Once they were alone again, Linnet poured the tea and asked, “So, Jack, if it’s not a problem, what is it? Why did you want to see me?”
After taking a sip of his tea, Jack put the cup back in the saucer and said, “Emma used to say to me that everyone got their just rewards in life, got what they deserved in the end. And your great-grandmother was right.”
“Do you mean we all reap what we sow?”
“Sort of, yes …” Settling back in the chair, Jack gave her a long look through narrowed eyes. “One of my operatives in France just gave me some extraordinary news. About Jonathan Ainsley.”
“What is it?” Linnet asked, staring back at him with great intensity. “You sound enigmatic, and solemn.”
“Ainsley has been in a car crash. Outside Paris, so I understand. He’s in the American Hospital in Paris, has sustained horrific injuries, according to my chap.”
“He’s not dead then?” Linnet asked.
“No. But he’s not expected to live.”
“What happened? Do you know?”
“A crash with a lorry.”
“What about Angharad? Was she with him?”
“It seems she was not in the car.” Jack’s mobile warbled, and he took it out of his pocket. “Jack Figg here.” He listened attentively, and after a few seconds, he said, “Keep in touch. And thanks, Pierre.” Clicking off the phone, he went on. “My operative who’s at the hospital told me that Jonathan Ainsley is not expected to live.”
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe it!” Linnet shouted, grabbing Jack’s arms. “We’re free of him at last! Free of his evil and wickedness!”
“Just rewards, as Emma always said,” Jack murmured. “Jonathan Ainsley got his just rewards.”
“I can’t wait to tell everybody,” Linnet cried. “There’s going to be a celebration throughout the family.”
And there was.
Late one morning at the end of that week, Linnet had a surprise visitor. She was studying the overall sales figures for the previous month when a soft voice said, “Hello, darling.”
Swinging her head, a look of astonishment crossing her face, Linnet saw her mother standing in the doorway.
“Mummy!” she cried, rushing to her. “I didn’t know you were back from the South of France.”
. “We got back last night,” Paula responded, embracing her daughter, holding her close. “I’ve missed you, Linny.”
“And I’ve missed you, Mummy. Come on, come and sit down. Better still, come and sit at the desk. It’s yours, you know, I’ve only been borrowing it.”
“No, no, I haven’t come to work,” Paula answered, and, spotting the circular table, she headed over to it, saying, “This is a good idea. Better than those awful sofas.”
Linnet laughed, following her mother, thrilled to see her and looking so well. “You’re your old self, Mums.”
“Not quite, not yet, but I’m getting there.”
Sitting down with her mother, Linnet asked, “Do you want a cup of coffee or tea? Anything?”
“No, not really, darling, but thank you. The store looks beautiful,” Paula began and paused. Reaching out, she patted Linnet’s hand. “You’ve done a wonderful job. And you’ve certainly introduced a fresh, modern look without destroying all of those traditional things our customers love. Your innovations have been successful … . Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Mummy. It was a bit tough at times, and I never stopped wanting to ring
you up, but Daddy was adamant, he didn’t want me to bother you. He told me to do the best I could.”
“Oh, yes, he told me all about that, Linny, and I longed to talk to you, too. I kept worrying about you, knowing how tough it is here sometimes. But I restrained myself.”
“Let me sink or swim, was that it?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling.
“Sort of, darling.”
“Anyway, Mummy, welcome back. It’s wonderful to see you. I’ll clean my stuff out of the office this afternoon. I never moved very much in, actually.”
“No, no, you don’t have to do that, Linnet.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is your office.”
Again Linnet looked baffled. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not coming back to work.” Paula sat back in the chair and gazed at her daughter for the longest moment, and then in a strong, steady voice, she explained, “Long ago, my grandmother told me that there comes a time in everybody’s life when it’s appropriate to step aside, to permit younger voices to be heard, greater visions to be perceived. This was said when she was eighty years old. It was at the birthday party we gave for her. She wasn’t saying those words only to me, Linnet, she was saying them to everyone, and especially my generation, her grandchildren. It was the night she retired.”
Linnet gazed back at her mother, transfixed. “Mummy, I don’t understand …”
“I’m retiring, Linnet. It’s your turn now, your turn to run the Harte stores, to be the boss lady, as you’ve always called me.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Paula cut in firmly. “All those years ago, Emma said this to me: ‘I charge you to hold my dream.’ And I did. Linnet, I charge you to hold Emma’s dream and my dream. All this … it’s yours now. I know you love the stores as she did, as I do. I know our dreams are safe in your small but very capable hands.”
Epilogue
ZURICH, 2002
The woman was tall, slender, and elegantly dressed. She stood by the window in the dimly lit room, looking out at the mountains, snowcapped, glittering in the bright afternoon sunshine. She liked Zurich, it was a beautiful place. She hoped she would be living here. She swung around as the door opened and the man walked in, holding out his hand.
Hurrying toward him, she shook his outstretched hand and looked at him intently. “What are the results?” she asked in a low, well-modulated voice.
“I am happy to say that the X-rays told us a great deal more than we expected. The problem is not as terrible as you have been led to believe. You were right to come to us, and yes, we can help you. There will be recovery, I am certain of that. It will be slow. But in the end it is worthwhile, is it not? If everything can be restored to normal? As, in fact, we believe it can.”
“Yes, you’re right, it is worth the time and effort. And money. I am going to trust you. I will put myself in your hands.”
The man inclined his head graciously.
“Please give me a moment, and then I will come to your office to go over the details.”
“Of course, madam,” he said and slipped out of the room.
The woman walked over to the corner, looked down at the bandaged head and face, the almost lifeless body which was prone on the narrow bed.
She reached out, put her hand on one shoulder. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. “You’ll be all right.”
There was no response, no sound, no movement. Nothing.
She knew he was alive. The doctors here had confirmed that. And now she knew they would get him back for her. The director of the clinic had just told her so.
Bending down, she kissed the bandaged cheek and stepped away. She did not want to leave him, but she knew she must. “You’ll get better, darling,” she murmured and walked across the room to the door.
He had to get better. She was carrying his child, that longed-for child. And he would be called Jonathan Ainsley, just as his father was. Angharad Hughes Ainsley smiled to herself.
They would win in the end. Because they were winners. Jonathan had told her that the day he married her.
THE THREE CLANS
THE HARTES
(Shown in line of descent)
EMMA HARTE. Matriarch. Founder of the dynasty and business empire.
HER CHILDREN
EDWINA, Dowager Countess of Dunvale. Emma’s daughter by Edwin Fairley. (Illegitimate.) First born.
CHRISTOPHER “KIT” LOWTHER. Emma’s son by her first husband, Joe Lowther. Second born.
ROBIN AINSLEY. Emma’s son by her second husband, Arthur Ainsley. Twin of Elizabeth. Third born.
ELIZABETH AINSLEY DEBOYNE. Emma’s daughter by her second husband, Arthur Ainsley. Twin of Robin. Third born.
DAISY AINSLEY AMORY. Emma’s daughter by Paul McGill. (Illegitimate.) Fourth born.
HER GRANDCHILDREN
ANTHONY STANDISH, Earl of Dunvale. Son of Edwina and Jeremy Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale.
SARAH LOWTHER PASCAL. Daughter of Kit and June Lowther.
OWEN HUGHES. Son of Robin Ainsley and Glynnis Hughes. (Illegitimate.)
JONATHAN AINSLEY. Son of Robin and Valerie Ainsley.
PAULA McGILL HARTE AMORY FAIRLEY O’NEILL. Daughter of Daisy and David Amory. Sister of Philip.
PHILIP MCGILL HARTE AMORY. Son of Daisy and David Amory. Brother of Paula.
ALEXANDER BARKSTONE. Son of Elizabeth and Tony Barkstone. Brother of Emily, Amanda, and Francesca. (Deceased.)
EMILY BARKSTONE HARTE. Daughter of Elizabeth and Tony Barkstone. Sister of Alexander. Half sister of Amanda and Francesca.
AMANDA LINDE. Daughter of Elizabeth and her second husband, Derek Linde. Twin of Francesca, half sister of Emily and Alexander.
FRANCESCA LINDE WESTON. Daughter of Elizabeth and her second husband, Derek Linde. Twin of Amanda, half sister of Emily and Alexander.
EMMA’S GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN
TESSA FAIRLEY LONGDEN. Daughter of Paula and her first husband, Jim Fairley. Twin of Lorne. Half sister of Linnet, Emsie, and Desmond.
LORNE FAIRLEY. Son of Paula and her first husband, Jim Fairley. Twin of Tessa. Half brother of Linnet, Emsie, and Desmond.
LORD JEREMY STANDISH. Son of Anthony and Sally Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale. Brother of Giles and India.
TOBY HARTE. Son of Emily and Winston Harte II. Brother of Gideon and Natalie.
GIDEON HARTE. Son of Emily and Winston Harte II. Brother of Toby and Natalie.
NATALIE HARTE. Daughter of Emily and Winston Harte II. Sister of Toby and Gideon.
HON. GILES STANDISH. Son of Anthony and Sally Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale. Brother of Jeremy and India.
LADY INDIA STANDISH. Daughter of Anthony and Sally Standish, Earl and Countess of Dunvale. Sister of Jeremy and Giles.
PATRICK O’NEILL. Son of Paula and her second husband, Shane O’Neill. Brother of Linnet, Emsie, and Desmond. (Deceased.)
LINNET O’NEILL. Daughter of Paula and her second husband, Shane O’Neill. Half sister of Tessa and Lorne. Sister of Emsie and Desmond.
CHLOE PASCAL. Daughter of Sarah and Yves Pascal.
FIONA MCGILL AMORY. Daughter of Philip McGill Amory and Madelana O’Shea Amory. (Deceased.)
EMMA “EMSIE” O’NEILL. Daughter of Paula and her second husband, Shane O’Neill. Half sister of Tessa and Lorne. Sister of Linnet and Desmond.
DESMOND O’NEILL. Son of Paula and her second husband, Shane O’Neill. Half brother of Tessa and Lorne. Brother of Linnet and Emsie.
EVAN HUGHES. Daughter of Owen and Marietta Hughes.
WINSTON HARTE. Emma’s older brother and business partner. (Deceased.)
RANDOLPH HARTE. Son of Winston and Charlotte Harte. (Deceased.)
WINSTON HARTE II. Son of Randolph and Georgina Harte. Brother of Sally and Vivienne.
SALLY HARTE STANDISH, Countess of Dunvale. Daughter of Randolph and Georgina Harte. Sister of Winston II and Vivienne.
VIVIENNE HARTE LESLIE. Daughter of R
andolph and Georgina Harte. Sister of Winston II and Sally.
TOBY HARTE. Son of Winston II and Emily Harte. Brother of Gideon and Natalie.
GIDEON HARTE. Son of Winston II and Emily Harte. Brother of Toby and Natalie.
NATALIE HARTE. Daughter of Winston II and Emily Harte. Sister of Toby and Gideon.
FRANK HARTE. Emma’s younger brother. (Deceased.)
ROSAMUND HARTE. Daughter of Frank and Natalie Harte. Sister of Simon.
SIMON HARTE. Son of Frank and Natalie Harte. Brother of Rosamund.
THE O’NEILLS
SHANE PATRICK DESMOND “BLACKIE” O’NEILL. Founding father of the dynasty and business empire. (Deceased.)
BRYAN O’NEILL. Son of Blackie and Laura Spencer O’Neill.
SHANE O’NEILL. Son of Bryan and Geraldine O’Neill. Brother of Miranda and Laura.
MIRANDA O’NEILL JAMES. Daughter of Bryan and Geraldine O’Neill. Sister of Shane and Laura.
LAURA O’NEILL NETTLETON. Daughter of Bryan and Geraldine O’Neill. Sister of Shane and Miranda.
PATRICK O’NEILL. Son of Paula and Shane O’Neill. Brother of Linnet, Emsie, and Desmond. (Deceased.)
LINNET O’NEILL. Daughter of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Sister of Emsie and Desmond.
EMMA “EMSIE” O’NEILL. Daughter of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Sister of Desmond and Linnet.
DESMOND O’NEILL. Son of Shane and Paula O’Neill. Brother of Linnet and Emsie.
THE KALLlNSKIS
DAVID KALLINSKI. Founding father of the dynasty and business empire. (Deceased.)
SIR RONALD KALLINSKI. Son of David and Rebecca Kallinski. (Deceased.)
MICHAEL KALLINSKI. Son of Ronald and Helen “Posy” Kallinski. Brother of Mark.
MARK KALLINSKI. Son of Ronald and Helen “Posy” Kallinski. Brother of Michael.
JULIAN KALLINSKI. Son of Michael Kallinski and his former wife, Valentine Kallinski. Brother of Arielle and Jessica.
Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga) Page 40