Slowly she withdrew the sheet and tried to roll it, but the paper was dry and crumbling in her hands. Lewis Everand had died on the day that Pennyroyal closed. And they had been best friends, her grandfather and Lewis Everand, like brothers.
Her gaze was drawn to the mouldering shoes abandoned on the floor and she lifted them gingerly. Their owner must have had small, dainty feet. They were not shoes for walking the moors, unsuitable fashion shoes, still encrusted with the mud that had rotted them. Cassy carried them out to the car and put them on the front seat, but she already knew the answer. They were Alician’s shoes.
She drove back to Ridge House slowly and soberly. Now Mrs. Hadlow would have to tell her all that she knew. Cassy had a right to know.
But Amy Hadlow had gone out. A note was propped on the kitchen table. Mrs. Hadlow had gone to a whist drive and would be back about seven. There was some cold ham and salad in the pantry.
Cassy flung herself into a chair. She had no appetite, though she was sure the supper was delicious. This inheritance was becoming more complicated by the minute, and she was not sure that she wanted to be involved.
If only Lewis Everand was not part of the mystery; she wanted everything between herself and Jake to be perfect but the shade of his father was going to change everything.
She hid her head in her hands. She felt an unreasonable anger towards Jake. Surely he had noticed the date on the worksheets; he must have known that his father died on that day even if Jake had not been born then. Their relationship was already fraught with difficulties without any further complications.
Cassy was tight with emotion when the telephone rang. She knew it was Jake before she lifted the receiver. The sound of his deep voice made her vitally aware of him.
“Cassy…darling?”
“Jake.”
“I said I would phone.”
“Yes, thank you. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” She heard his chuckle, low and warm.
“I only left you a few hours ago and already you want to talk to me. What a girl. Well, I’ve some good news for you, Cassy. I knew Pennyroyal would not be difficult to get rid of. There’s an offer in the pipeline.”
“An offer for Pennyroyal? But isn’t that quick? Do they know that it’s worked out?”
“Of course, they do. My report goes with the sale particulars. But Pennyroyal does have a certain novelty value, and if the buyer is rich, it can be put down as a tax loss.”
“I’m not sure I approve of that,” said Cassy.
“It’s done all the time whether you approve or not.”
“And the offer?”
“The asking price.”
Cassy’s heart fell. She had not wanted a quick sale. She had almost hoped it would not sell, even if that meant the end of her dream of Cassandra. She forced a spark of enthusiasm.
“That’s wonderful. Who is the buyer?”
“I’ve no idea. The buyer wants to remain anonymous. The sale is being handled by a broker. What have you been doing?”
“Oh, I’ve been around and about,” said Cassy vaguely, wondering whether to tell Jake what she had discovered or not. She wanted desperately to know how much he had kept from her.
“I’ve found the date that Pennyroyal closed,” she announced bluntly. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Is it interesting?” he drawled.
Cassy took a quick intake of breath. “Of course. I’ve been trying to find out for days. No one would tell me. But it was there all the time. I’m surprised you didn’t see it, Jake.”
“Me? Why should I? How did you find out?”
Jake sounded mildly curious, but it was difficult to tell over the telephone.
“Remember the worksheets in the office at the mine, those sheets of paper on the desks? You were looking at them.”
“Was I? I don’t recall.”
Cassy stared out of the window. The light was fading, the edges of the high peaks etched against a mackerel sky. A deep disappointment was reflected in Cassy’s voice. She hoped fervently that Jake would now admit to knowing the date.
“November 22, 1951,” she said, her voice throbbing.
“Ah…” he said.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“Should it?”
Cassy let out a smothered cry of protest. She wanted to believe him but she knew that he was still keeping something from her.
“Oh Jake, don’t lie to me,” she cried. “You must have known. It was the day that your father died. Don’t pretend that you didn’t know. How can anyone not know when their father died?”
“I wasn’t even born.” His voice was stony.
“That’s no reason for not knowing. Especially here, in Netherdale and the connection with Pennyroyal, Kettlehulme and everything,” Cassy went on incoherently.
“What connection? Is there a connection? How did you find out when Lewis Everand died? Who told you?”
“No one told me,” said Cassy, exasperated. “I quite realise that a lot of people have been trying to keep the facts from me, for reasons known only to them. But I found out by accident, although it’s there plain enough for anyone to see. In the churchyard of St. Boniface. The family grave…that’s how I found out. It’s engraved on the headstone.”
There was a silence. It was not a companionable silence and Cassy could have wept. She wished she had not broached the subject on the telephone. She should have waited till they were together.
“But don’t let’s argue on the telephone,” she said shakily. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it when you return. I should know, don’t you agree?”
“No, I don’t agree,” he flared. “None of it is any of your business. What’s it to you when my father died or when the mine closed? You’re not really interested in Pennyroyal, only in what you can get for it to start your precious agency. It beats me why your grandfather left it to you when you treated him so badly when he was alive.”
Pain and humiliation shot through Cassy. How did Jake know? Had Mrs. Hadlow told him? Surely not, Mrs. Hadlow would not be so unkind even if her opinion of Cassy’s behaviour was low.
“And the situation between me and my grandfather is none of your business either,” said Cassy angrily. “You have absolutely no idea why I…I mean, what was the reason…oh, I don’t have to tell you anything. You, of all people. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I thought engineers and surveyers dealt in facts, not gossip.”
“It’s no idle gossip the way you ignored him for ten years.” His voice was like ice. “Some granddaughter.”
“How dare you! That’s not fair and very cruel. I didn’t ignore him. I don’t have to take these insults from you, Jake Everand. You’ve no right to talk to me this way.”
“I’ll talk to you any way I like, Miss Ridgeway.”
“No one talks to me like this, especially a bossy and arrogant man like you, Jake Everand. I don’t see any point whatsoever in continuing this conversation,” said Cassy.
“Neither do I,” said Jake, slamming down the receiver.
Cassy rushed from the room, out into the shadowed yard, distressed, trembling, close to tears. There was nowhere to go. She had moved out of Castle Inn in order to be near Jake Everand; now he was the last person she wanted to see.
She wandered restlessly, her hands slack and limp by her side, head bowed. What had she done? Kettlehulme had been wonderful, full of surprises, an oasis of unexpected happiness. Now she had spoiled everything with her stupid insistence on the truth. What did it matter when the mine closed, or why? The present was more important; nothing could change the past
There was so much about Jake Everand that she respected and liked: his power and authority, his strength and undeniable masculinity. She wanted to love him. But she needed more to love in a man; gentleness and tenderness were such elusive qualities. Yet there were times when Jake showed a gentler side to his nature and his touch was pure magic.
The encroaching dusk reminded Cassy that Amy Had
low might appreciate a lift back to Ridge House. Cassy wearily pulled on the honey sweater and drove the Daimler carefully along the lane. She was getting a headache and she knew from experience that she should not drive in such a condition. But the Derbyshire roads were familiar and she kept her speed down.
She parked the Daimler near the village green and walked the last few yards to the hall. Its lights were on and the doors open, voices and laughter floating but on the evening air.
The whist enthusiasts were leaving slowly.
“I had such a run of trumps,” Mrs. Hadlow was saying as she buttoned her long navy coat. “I couldn’t go wrong.”
“Did you win a prize?” Cassy asked.
“No, I never expect to win anything,” said Mrs. Hadlow. “I just enjoy the game and seeing my friends. Well, this is nice,” she exclaimed on seeing the big car parked outside.
“Jump in,” said Cassy, opening the door for her. “We’ll have a nice, cosy evening together.”
“What a treat,” said Mrs. Hadlow, her homely face alight. “We’ll have a long chat and nice cup of cocoa.”
Cassy realised she could not disappear to bed now. When they reached Ridge House, she took the first opportunity of swallowing a couple of paracetamol tablets. If she sat quietly somewhere for twenty minutes, the headache might go.
Fortunately Mrs. Hadlow went upstairs to her bedroom to change out of her best dress, leaving Cassy to herself downstairs in the sitting room. Cassy switched off the main light, just leaving on a small table lamp so that she could see.
She pulled up a footstool and relaxed back in an armchair, closing her eyes with some relief. She tried to empty her mind and relax but it was not easy. Her thoughts were tormented, razor sharp thrusts into her throbbing head. She would never be able to cope with someone like Jake Everand. It was for the best if she put him out of her life forever.
Vaguely she was aware that someone had come into the room but she did not open her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got a headache, Mrs. Hadlow. It’ll be all right. I’ll just stay here in the dark for a while.”
As there was no reply she assumed Mrs. Hadlow had tiptoed out of the room. But Cassy was wrong.
It was the lightest touch, like the brushing of butterfly wings. At first she thought she was imagining the feeling, but then she realised that fingers were gently but firmly massaging the back of her head and neck. They expertly drew the tension along the hollow each side of her spine, and brushed it down over her hunched shoulders.
The hands moved to the knotted muscles in her shoulders and kneaded the pain with a touch that was never too heavy or prolonged. The light sweep after each kneading seemed to take away a fraction of the pain each time and brush it into the air. Cassy felt the tension easing and the pain disappearing.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured. “It’s wonderful. Where did you learn to massage like this?”
“Would you believe China?” he said.
“No.”
“Physiotherapy after an accident?”
“Perhaps. Take your choice. The truth is both.”
Cassy could not trust herself to speak. Jake Everand’s fingers were mesmerising her into silence. His presence behind her chair, big and close, was thawing the lump of ice inside her.
“I was halfway home when I called you. Don’t you want to know why I’ve come back?”
“No.”
“No? You’re usually bursting with curiosity. Don’t you know any other word?”
“No.”
She heard a wicked chuckle as he bent towards her.
“Then you won’t want me to go without a kiss?”
He took her face in his hands, tracing her lips with his mouth. The room seemed to vanish and Cassy felt the shock waves pulsing through her, against all sense and all good reason. He lifted her high in his strong arms and drew her against his body, their skins burning from the touch, her ragged breath lost in the warm insistence of his kiss.
Chapter Eight
Cassy closed her eyes in waves of pleasure. It had been a day of swings and roundabouts and Jake’s unexpected arrival back at Ridge House sapped the last of her resistance.
“I don’t think this is very sensible,” she murmured as his hands tangled in her hair and his lips nibbled the lobe of her ear in a delightfully intimate way.
“I’m taking advantage of your temporarily sweet and docile nature,” he said, “before you start yelling at me and socking me on the jaw. And don’t glare. I know you’re quite capable.”
“I never yell,” she protested weakly. She did not want to move but she knew his hands were drugging her into another world. A world that was dominated by his hard body against her and the warm tingling kisses that could make her heart plunge.
“Oh no? How about all that yelling down the phone at me? What was that? Did I imagine it?”
“I never…I didn’t…”
Jake silenced her with a finger against her mouth. “No more fighting, remember? That’s what you said. You’ve got a rotten memory, Miss Ridgeway.”
Cassy struggled to free herself, pushing against his rock hard chest. But Jake just laughed and spun her round, carrying her over to the chair and putting her firmly on his lap.
“I don’t believe in having important conversations over the telephone,” he went on, his voice taut and measured. “It’s too easy for simple misunderstandings to turn into a full scale row. I came back to sort things out with you and put a few facts straight. You’re too important to me in every way.”
Cassy felt her head spinning. She was important to him? She did not want any more conflict. She wanted them to be like this always, to stay friends, even if they became lovers.
“Important, Jake? Am I important to you? Do you really mean that?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean,” he said. “You should know that. Okay, you’re an annoying, prickly, stubborn and independent young woman, and I can’t fathom why I like you.”
“That’s it. That’s enough,” said Cassy, struggling.
Jake gave his deep, short laugh. “Take it easy, sweetheart, and sit still. Let me tell you a story. Would you like me to tell you a good-night story?”
Cassy relaxed against him. His shoulder was a comforting pillow and she could see his dark, jutting jaw just above her nose. The tangy scent of his aftershave still clung to his skin.
“Is the story about my grandfather and Lewis Everand?”
“Yes.”
Cassy sighed and settled deeper into his arms. She would forgive him anything so long as he told her the truth and trusted her with the facts.
“I’m ready, I’m waiting and I’m listening,” said Cassy demurely, planting a kiss on the underside of his rough chin.
She had never looked so beautiful, her skin pale and luminous, her long hair laying untamed over his chest. She smelt perfect, clean and fresh but with a subtle perfume that was all woman. Jake knew her skin would be perfect everywhere, and he longed to discover that perfection.
“Once upon a time there was a boy, an only son, and he was pretty lonely, despite his family giving him everything he wanted. He was about eight years old when his parents gave him a pony. He was big for his age and determined to ride it all by himself.”
“That sounds familiar,” Cassy murmured under her breath. “I know someone just as pig-headed.”
“He decided to ride out of Kettlehulme and across the fields up onto the moors. In no time at all, he was lost.”
“I know that feeling, too . . .”
“Fortunately young Lewis was near Ridge House when Thomas Ridgeway found him. That’s how they met.”
“And they became great friends?”
“Not immediately. Apparently young Thomas Ridgeway challenged Lewis for trespassing, and they had the first of many fights, but by the time they arrived at Ridge House, bruised and bleeding, they were like brothers. Lewis was six years younger than Tom but he was a big lad and it made little difference. They wen
t everywhere together, fighting, brawling, arguing, but inseparable. As young men their ways parted, but they were always friends. Your grandfather continued farming at Ridge House, and my father went to college to become a mining engineer.”
“A mining engineer?” Cassy was amazed.
Jake Everand did not answer right away. He was not sure how Cassy was going to take the next part of the story. She was going to have a hard time.
“Yes, that’s right. Mining. Lewis was going into the family business.”
A small tremor sent a chill through her though her body was on fire with his closeness.
“I’ve a feeling you are going to tell me something I won’t like,” said Cassy.
“Pennyroyal. It belonged to the Everands. We were the original leadmasters. It was a thriving and prosperous mine for several generations. There were rich seams and the canal system of transporting the ore made it famous. It supplied work for most of the menfolk in Netherdale.”
Cassy stiffened, her mind reeling. Pride of Pennyroyal. Now she understood. It was the Everand family motto. And the heraldic device over the front door…that small mauve flower was the wild pennyroyal, an aromatic and medicinal herb which had given its name to the lead mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a low, grating voice. “Why did you pretend not to know anything about Pennyroyal when it’s obvious that you know a great deal? You should have told me. I had a right to know.”
“What difference would it have made? The Everand family lost control of Pennyroyal in the late forties long before I was even born. Don’t start blaming me for things that happened years and years ago.”
“How do you know? What things? What happened? How did my grandfather come to own Pennyroyal?” Jake was keeping infuriatingly calm, which started her wondering how he felt. “Do you hate me for having Pennyroyal? I suppose you feel it should belong to you, back in the Everand family?”
As she spoke, a terrible, niggling suspicion flashed into her mind. Perhaps Jake Everand did want the mine; perhaps he would do anything to take control again, even to the extent of pretending to love someone who at first had irritated him intensely.
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