by Penny Jordan
Philip had told her that the ornaments in this garden had actually originally come from Italy. Boys astride dolphins, with water spouting from the dolphins’ mouths, decorated each corner of the pond, which was large enough not to be overwhelmed by the intricate fountain at its centre.
Steps would have to be taken to protect visiting children from the dangers of the pond, Faith acknowledged as she wrote a quick note on her pad before beginning to list the garden’s ornaments.
As she did so she noticed that one of the dolphins looked slightly different from the others. Frowning, she went over to make a closer examination of it. Both its colour and composition were different, she recognised as she knelt down to inspect it even more closely.
‘If you’re planning what I think you’re planning, you can forget it. Someone’s already tried it and that’s the result. The dolphin he was trying to steal ended up smashed and the one you’re inspecting is its replacement.’
The unexpected sound of Nash’s harsh voice caught Faith off guard. Immediately she stood up and turned to confront him as the meaning of his tautly angry words hit her.
But without giving her a chance to say anything Nash continued coldly, ‘What exactly are you doing out here anyway, Faith? I thought your task was supposed to be preparing a plan for the house conversion, not checking out the garden—and its contents!’
‘I wanted to make a list of all the garden ornaments,’ Faith cut across his sarcastic comment in quick defence.
But before she could finish her explanation Nash had stopped her again, exclaiming derisively, ‘Oh, I’m sure you did. But unfortunately for you I happened to see what you were up to. As I’ve already told you, someone else had the same idea before you and tried to make off with these four.’ He gestured towards the dolphins.
‘I wasn’t—’ Faith began angrily, but once again Nash refused to allow her to finish what she was saying.
‘Your boss has been on the phone for you,’ he told her. ‘No doubt, like me, he expected to find you doing your job. He asked me to tell you that he’ll be here later on today, and no doubt when he does arrive,’ he continued smoothly, ‘he’s going to want a full report on how you’ve spent your time in his absence.’
She might have registered the sneering double meaning in Nash’s speech, but there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know it, Faith decided firmly. And there was one point she fully intended to put him right on.
‘For your information—’ she began determinedly.
But to her fury yet again Nash took the initiative away from her, pre-empting her by saying harshly, ‘For my information what? I already have all the information I need or want about anything you might do or say, Faith. Oh, and by the way, Mrs Jenson isn’t here to cook and clean for you.’
That was it! Faith had had enough!
‘What is she here for, Nash? To spy on me? Is that why I caught her in my room this morning?’
Faith could see from Nash’s expression that he didn’t like what she was saying. Tough! Did he really think he could get away with piling insult after insult on her without her retaliating?
‘She was probably returning the laundry you’d left downstairs for her to wash,’ Nash countered, frowning.
‘You mean the laundry I’d left downstairs to put in the washing machine after it had finished the cycle it was on?’ Faith corrected him, adding before he could cut her off, ‘Wasn’t the arrangement my company had with the trustees that whilst I was here I could use the domestic facilities of the house?’
‘That doesn’t include the services of a housekeeper,’ Nash shot back at her.
‘I was referring to the washing machine, not Mrs Jenson,’ Faith told him sharply, pushing her hand into her hair in helpless irritation as she acknowledged the impossibility of having anything approximating a normal rational conversation with Nash.
But his comments had reminded her of something. ‘It would be helpful if I could have a copy of any existing floor plan of the house you might have,’ she told him stiffly.
‘You mean it will save you the bother of drawing one up yourself—thus allowing you to spend your time far more profitably, from your point of view at least, in checking out the property’s more moveable and readily disposable assets. Well, for your information—’
‘No. For your information,’ Faith interrupted him swiftly, copying his own aggressive method of attack, ‘let me tell you that the only reason I was looking at the garden ornaments is because…’
As she was speaking a sudden breeze caught at the pages of the notebook she had put down beside her on the ground, drawing Nash’s attention to it.
Instinctively Faith bent to pick it up, but Nash moved even faster, and the expression in his eyes as he studied the list she had made was so contemptuously damning that for some idiotic reason it made Faith want to cry.
‘Don’t say another word,’ Nash advised her as he calmly tore the list she had made in half, and then in half again. ‘I’m just glad that Philip didn’t live to see what you’ve become. He trusted you, Faith.’
‘And I have never abused his trust—’ Faith began passionately, and then stopped as she saw the way Nash was watching her. What was the point in even trying to talk to him? Instead she simply turned on her heel and walked as quickly as she could back to the house.
Faith was feeling rather pleased with herself. A trip into the local town after her run-in with Nash had produced not only the delicious sandwich she had enjoyed for her lunch but also a very interesting book written by a local historian, which included detailed drawings of Hatton at the time it had been built.
Her mobile started to ring, and as she went to answer it she recognised Robert’s number.
‘I’m just leaving London now,’ he told her. ‘So, traffic willing, it shouldn’t be too long before I reach you. How are things going? Thanks for your message about the garden ornaments, by the way. I’m not quite sure what the position is with them. I shall have to check with Nash, but if they are to remain in the gardens then we shall definitely have to take precautions to protect them. Missing me?’ he asked her softly then, in a very different tone of voice.
He started to laugh when Faith didn’t immediately reply, telling her even more softly, ‘You don’t have to tell me now. You can show me later instead.’
He had rung off before Faith could say anything.
Faith’s next encounter with Nash came shortly afterwards, when she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. She was just pouring the boiling water onto the coffee grains when the back door opened and Nash walked in.
‘Before you say a word,’ she told him, ‘I bought the coffee myself, and I have the trustees’ agreement to use the kitchen,’ she added sarcastically. ‘Presumably that was a trustees’ meeting you were too busy to attend,’ she finished, with mock sweetness.
‘Faith—’ she heard him saying as she turned away from him to return the milk—her milk, which she had bought with her own money—to the fridge. Whilst Nash might have taken it upon himself to set the terms for the hostilities between them, she was determined to show him that there was no way she was going to balk at them, or run away in ignominious defeat.
‘Perhaps I should ask Robert to mention to them the…difficulties I’m encountering in working here. Although they have gifted Hatton to the Foundation…’ she began.
Faith wasn’t used to having to make threats or respond to other people’s hostility, but she felt that Nash had left her with little choice.
It comforted her to remember that Nash was not the only trustee of Philip’s estate, although she had no real idea who the others were. Whoever they were she certainly had every reason to be grateful to them. Without the extra funds they had made available to her she would never even have been able to consider continuing her studies, as she had done. Nor would she have spent a brief working holiday in Florence—a job which had been organised for her thanks to the very kind offices of
one of the trustees, according to her university tutor.
She had had no idea then that Nash was one of their number, and she could well imagine how it must have infuriated him to do anything of benefit for her. But she also knew that he would have adhered scrupulously to the terms of Philip’s will. That was the kind of man he was.
‘Faith.’ Nash stopped her in a grim voice, a voice so determined that it forced her to listen to him.
‘I just wanted to tell you that I’ve put a set of plans of the house in the study for you. They’re on Philip’s desk.’
Nash was actually speaking to her as though she were a normal human being instead of some loathsome monster. Faith opened her mouth and then closed it again, but the good manners her mother had been so insistent upon forced her to thank him, even though she resented having to do so.
It was much later in the afternoon, whilst she was working on the plans upstairs in her room, that she saw Robert arrive. Putting her work to one side, she went downstairs to meet him.
‘Sorry it’s taken me so long to get here,’ he apologised when they met in the hallway. ‘The traffic was appalling.’
‘Well, at least you’re here now,’ Faith offered.
‘Mmm…but not for long, I’m afraid,’ Robert told her ruefully. ‘We’re having major problems with the Smethwick House conversion and it looks like I’m going to have to leave you pretty much to your own devices down here until we get them sorted out. Don’t look so worried,’ he told her with a smile when he saw her expression. ‘I have every faith in you.’
He might, but Nash most certainly didn’t, and it was Nash she was going to have to deal with on a day-to-day basis, Faith recognised as Robert went on to explain that he had booked a table at a local riverside restaurant.
‘We can talk properly over dinner,’ he told her, ‘but first I need to have a word with Nash. I’m glad he’s decided to stay on here for a while. The house is quite remote and I don’t like the thought of you being here on your own.’
It was a new experience for Faith to have a man act so protectively towards her. Nash, of course, would have taken a completely different stance, insisting that it was the others who needed protecting from her, not the other way around.
After arranging to meet Robert back downstairs in an hour’s time, Faith returned to her room to continue with her work.
She began to check the sizes of the upstairs rooms on the plans, noting down those which were large enough to be converted into family-sized rooms and those which were better suited to single occupation.
The downstairs snooker room would, no doubt, be something that the Foundation would want to retain, but she put a question mark over the tennis court, recognising that it might be too expensive to renovate and maintain.
Totally engrossed in what she was doing, Faith was shocked to glance at her watch and realise what time it was. She had barely fifteen minutes left in which to get ready to meet Robert.
Somehow she managed it, snatching a quick shower and changing into a cool black linen dress, and brushing her hair before applying a fresh dusting of make-up.
Despite her blonde hair her skin tanned well, and the hot summer had given it a golden sheen. Her dress, although demure, was sleeveless, revealing the slim tanned warmth of her bare arms and legs.
A bright fuchsia-coloured pashmina which had been an uncharacteristic impulse buy in the sales provided her with a wrap, just in case the evening should prove cool. Faith stroked the silky texture of the wrap gently as she draped it over her shoulders. Just touching it made her feel very feminine and extravagant. Her mother would have loved it.
She hesitated before opening her jewellery box and putting on the tiny gold-set diamond ear-studs that had been a twenty-first birthday present—and a very unexpected one at that.
She could still remember vividly her shock and speechless delight when she had opened the registered parcel and read the note inside.
‘Congratulations on your twenty-first birthday and on the excellence of your academic work’, the note attached to the small jeweller’s box had read, and instead of any signature there had simply been a typed and very formal, ‘The estate of the late Philip Hatton’.
Tears shone briefly in Faith’s eyes now as she put the earrings on. That gesture by the anonymous trustees had meant so very much to her, and she could still remember what a thrill it had given her to wear them going out with her university friends to celebrate her birthday.
Robert was waiting in the hallway, smiling admiringly up at her as he watched her descend the stairs.
Although he lacked Nash’s arrogantly male brand of sexuality, Robert was a very attractive-looking man—a nice man, Faith acknowledged as she smiled back at him.
‘You look good in black,’ he complimented her as she reached him. ‘It suits you.’
Out of the corner of her eye Faith could see Nash emerging from the drawing room, and she knew he must have overheard Robert’s compliment, even though he chose not to acknowledge either it or her.
She could tell from Robert’s behaviour towards her that as yet Nash had said nothing to him about her past, or rather his interpretation of it, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before he did, which meant that she would have to tell Robert herself first. She felt her stomach starting to tense in tight, anxious knots. The shame of what had happened would always cast a dark shadow over her life and she hated the thought of having to resurrect it.
The restaurant Robert took her to was busy and very obviously trendy and expensive. It was the sort of place where private conversation was virtually impossible, and Robert gave her a rueful look as they were escorted to their table.
‘I hadn’t realised it was going to be as busy as this. I asked Nash to recommend somewhere but I don’t think he can have fully understood me.’
Robert’s mention of Nash gave Faith the opening she had been looking for. Tentatively she asked him, ‘Do you know how much longer Nash intends to remain at Hatton? After all, now that the trustees have handed it over to the Foundation there isn’t any real reason for him to be there.’
No reason at all, in fact, other than to torment her, Faith reflected inwardly.
‘Well, at the moment the trustees—or rather Nash, should I say, since he is the sole trustee of his late godfather’s estate—What is it?’ Robert asked Faith in concern as she made a small sound of shocked disbelief.
‘Nash is the sole Trustee?’ she repeated.
‘Oh, yes,’ Robert confirmed. ‘And it was his own idea to get in touch with the Foundation. Apparently he feels very strongly about the needs of children from deprived backgrounds, but, as he’s told me himself, he wants to be sure that the Foundation is the right beneficiary for Hatton before fully handing it over. I must admit I’d hate to lose the house at this stage. It’s done me no end of good with the rest of the board to be able to say I’ve secured Hatton for the Foundation.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Most of them have known me since I was a schoolboy and I’m afraid they still tend to treat me as one.
‘I’m looking to you to impress Nash with our plans for converting the house, Faith. I’ve heard good things about your work and I can well understand why.’
Every word Robert said was adding to Faith’s anxiety. How long had Nash been the sole trustee of Philip’s estate? she wondered dazedly. Not very long, surely.
‘I told Nash of your concern about the garden statues and ornaments, by the way,’ Robert was continuing. ‘I said you’d told me you were going to make a list of everything. At the moment, like the house and its contents, everything is covered by insurance paid for by the estate, but once Hatton passes legally into our hands that will become the Foundation’s responsibility. I did ask Nash if he had thought of removing some of the more valuable artefacts, but he says he wants them to remain with the house.
‘I’m counting on you to do a really first-class job for me here at Hatton, Faith,’ Robert repeated. ‘An awful lot hinges on our successf
ul acquisition of the house—for both of us. Like I’ve already said, it will be a real feather in my cap, and I shall make sure that you are suitably rewarded.
‘I don’t suppose the fact that you and Nash know one another is going to do us any harm either,’ he chuckled, so patently oblivious to what Faith was actually feeling and thinking that she felt dangerously close to hysterical laughter as she recognised the weight of the responsibility he was placing on her.
‘Robert…I don’t think…’ she began, carefully and quietly searching for the right words to explain the true situation to him, but he reached across the table gently taking her hand in his and squeezing it.
‘Stop worrying,’ he told her. ‘I know you’re the right person for the job. After all, I was the one who made the decision to employ you. You can do it, Faith; I know you can. The rest of the board might have thought we should take on someone older—and male—but I know that you’re going to prove them wrong and me right.’
Faith’s heart sank lower with every word Robert uttered. How could she tell him now? How could she let him down? She had had no idea that the hand-over of Hatton to the Foundation hadn’t fully gone through—or that Robert had had to battle against his co-board members to take her on.
There was only one option left to her now, only one thing she could possibly do—even though it was something that went totally against everything her pride was urging her to do and had been urging her to do for the last twenty-four hours. She was going to have to appeal to Nash, beg him to listen to her for Robert’s sake, because of what she felt she owed him for his support of her and for the sake of all those who would benefit from what the Foundation would do with Hatton.
‘Not hungry?’ Robert asked her solicitously as she pushed her food around her plate.
‘I ate a large lunch,’ Faith fibbed wanly.
Why was life doing this to her? Why?
CHAPTER FIVE