Cassy was so confused. She turned to her work for solace and accepted as many bookings as she could fit into a day. Her hair soon looked the glorious, shining, tawny mane that was her trademark, and the Derbyshire air had brought a new bloom to her cheeks.
“You’ve changed!” said Anton, head down behind his camera, trying to capture that elusive newness. “I don’t know what it is but I like it. What’s happened? Have you fallen in love?”
“Good heavens, no,” Cassy denied. “It’s the result of feasting one’s eyes on such wonderful views as the High Peak.”
“That’s it,” said Anton. “You look more healthy.”
Cassy lowered her eyes in amusement, but Anton was faster and caught the expression.
“Perfect for Streame,” he grinned.
Jake Everand phoned four times. Cassy ignored the recorded calls and did not phone back even though each time he left a number. She did not know why she behaved this way. She did not understand herself. She wanted to see him, wanted more than anything for everything to be right between them, but the proud Ridgeway blood declared this was now impossible.
“He’s an Everand and I’m a Ridgeway,” she said firmly to her mirror. “I’ll never forgive him.”
And she turned away from the mirror before the same face could say: “For what? Is Jake to blame?”
The fifth call was icy cool. Jake Everand’s curt voice informed her answering machine that the brokers had accepted the offer for Pennyroyal and that she should put them in touch with her solicitors. Not a word more.
Cassy supposed that she should use Martlake & Partners, and made an appointment to see Mr. James Martlake the following day. She wanted the transaction completed as soon as possible.
As usual, she wore an outfit put together with her special flair…an off-white flared skirt, finely tucked wool shirt under a mock white fur waistcoat and ruched, cream leather boots. If only she had had these clothes in Derbyshire, she would not have suffered from the chill of the bleak winds.
“My dear Miss Ridgeway, this is a pleasure,” said James Martlake with his usual courtesy and charm. “I trust you are well? You’ll take some tea with me, of course?”
“Yes, thank you, that would be nice,” said Cassy. “It doesn’t seem possible that it’s only a few weeks since I sat here and you told me that I had inherited Pennyroyal.”
James Martlake’s eyes twinkled. “Quite a surprise, eh? And not all that unpleasant, was it?”
“No,” Cassy admitted. “Once I got used to the idea, I was really pleased.”
“And you’ve been to see the mine?”
Cassy’s face lit up. “It was fabulous. I can’t tell you how exciting it was to go down the mine and travel underground. Did you know that Pennyroyal is flooded and one travels in a small flat boat that barely skims the tunnel walls?”
Cassy launched into a colourful description of her two trips with Jake Everand, her green eyes alight with enthusiasm. Pride of Pennyroyal. Unconsciously she had taken the Everand family motto to heart, as her own.
“But it’s obvious that I can’t keep the mine,” said Cassy, the regret evident in her low voice. “Jake Everand advised me to sell the property and it was put in the hands of a mining broker. There was an offer right away, so Jake’s report was attractive to a buyer. Heaven only knows why, there’s nothing in Pennyroyal.”
“Perhaps the purchaser is a rich eccentric.”
Cassy smiled. “If I can’t have Pennyroyal, then I want the capital to start my own agency. And the best time is right now, while I’m well known and can advance myself.”
“So your grandfather has left you something of value, the means to become totally independent and achieve your ambition,” James Martlake observed.
“I’m sure this is what he intended all along.”
“I wish I knew. I do so want to do what would have pleased him.”
“Give me the details and we’ll get the legalities of this moving.”
By the time Cassy had had two cups of China tea and sorted out a few details with Mr. Martlake, she felt things were happening. She could almost believe that Jake Everand did not matter and that she was in command of her life.
When Cassy was ready to leave, James Martlake suddenly rustled through the papers on his desk. A mysterious look came over his face.
“I’ve just remembered,” he said. “We came across a postscript to one of Thomas Ridgeway’s letters that relates directly to you. Ah, here it is.” He handed the letter across to Cassy.
Cassy read the two short sentences. They were just an afterthought as all postscripts are, but Cassy, in her search for some kind of direction from her grandfather, took them to be the sign that she sought.
P.S. Cassy should trust Jake Everand. He’s the man for her.
She did not question how Thomas Ridgeway had known the whereabouts of Jake Everand, of his professional standing as a mining consultant or that she would contact him. Perhaps he had followed the career of the son of his old friend, left a hint or two with James Martlake. Thomas Ridgeway would not have given her that advice lightly.
She looked up with a quick smile, trying to hide a surge of joy.
“I’m very grateful, thank you,” she said. “It may not seem much to you, but perhaps it’s what I’ve been looking for. May I keep it? Is the rest of the letter essential to you?”
“I’ll take a photocopy and you can keep the original,” said James Martlake, amused at Cassandra’s pleasure. “I’m glad it’s of some use to you.”
She took a taxi home in the gathering dusk. He’s the man for her! How did Grandfather know that? How could he see beyond the grave and know just how much Jake Everand affected her, arousing hungry feelings that had lain dormant for years?
She let herself into her flat, feeling almost lightheaded. He was the man for her. Yes, Grandfather was right! She loved him, she knew she loved him. It was a hopeless longing that swept away all her doubts. Jake Everand was everything she had always wanted in a man, despite his arrogance. She could cope with that; she was a match for him. Or was she? Seeds of uncertainty scattered in her mind, tingeing the joy with sediments of grief. She wanted him, but perhaps it was not to be.
Life was cruel all along the line. It had not been particularly kind to the young wife, Fiona, leaving her widowed and pregnant; nor to Thomas Ridgeway with a motherless baby to bring up; and Amy Hadlow who had lost her soldier husband. Every family could chalk up injustices of one kind or another.
It was a solemn Cassy who prepared a meal of salad and fruit. She had run through a lifetime of emotions in one afternoon, and the experience had left her older if not wiser. Eventually she took a long bath and went to bed early. Tomorrow she had a live modelling show for charity in the Royal Albert Hall which she knew would be chaos. The conditions behind the cat-walk for changing were pretty cramped and the morning’s dress rehearsal would shred everyone’s nerves.
Just before leaving the next morning, the telephone rang. James Martlake’s amiable voice came on the line, for once sounding flustered and excited.
“Miss Ridgeway? James Martlake here. I’m sorry to be calling you at home when I know you must be very busy, but I’ve come across something rather strange and I did want to check.”
“I am just on my way out,” said Cassy.
“I’ll be brief. First, I wanted to check that you are quite sure that you are set on selling Pennyroyal. And secondly, and you must forgive me but it is my job to look after your interests, you are initiating this sale of your own free will?”
“Yes, of course,” said Cassy, bemused. “Why?”
“Well, I’ve just discovered who has made the offer for Pennyroyal. Who do you think it is?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Jake Everand! He’s the anonymous buyer of Pennyroyal.”
Cassy was dazed. Her mouth went dry and she found that no words came to fill the stunned silence. Slowly, painfully, the information sank in.
“Jake Everand is buying Pe
nnyroyal? I don’t understand,” she said stiffly. “He never said . .
“No.” There was a slight chuckle. “But the offer is quite above board in every respect. He’s paying the asking price.”
“His asking price,” Cassy snapped. “It’s his asking price and his valuation. Well, this changes everything!”
“What do you mean, Miss Ridgeway?”
“I’m not selling to him.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because…because…because I won’t,” said Cassy furiously. “It’s a con, it’s a set up. I just don’t like it.”
But it made sense, a piece of her mind was saying. It was a rough justice perhaps; Jake Everand getting the mine back and repaying his father’s debt to Thomas Ridgeway.
On the other hand, it was all too easy. Cassy clutched her arm, shielding her heart, remembering the pain and hurt. She would not be manipulated like a puppet just because Jake was feeling pangs of guilt.
“What about my pride?” Cassy stormed. “Jake Everand thinks he can make a hand-out to me; I’ll say thank you very much nicely like a good girl and everything will be all right. Well, he can think again. I won’t take charity.”
“Does that mean you want me to stop the sale?”
“You can say that again. You tell Mr. Everand what he can do with his money. I don’t want it. Pennyroyal will stay in my family where it rightfully belongs.”
The solicitor tried to dissuade his wayward client. “I would urge you not to make any hasty decision, Miss Ridgeway,” he said. “I’m sure Mr. Everand has made you a fair offer. You were happy enough to sell yesterday. Perhaps he anticipated this…er…kind of reaction and that’s why he chose to remain anonymous.”
“That man is too devious for anyone to remotely understand his reasons,” said Cassy, calming slightly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Martlake, but I have to go now. Meanwhile, I’d prefer it if you did absolutely nothing.”
James Martlake’s relief was audible. “Just as you wish, Miss Ridgeway.”
Cassy could not concentrate on two things at once. Although she seethed all the way in a taxi to the Royal Albert Hall calling Jake Everand every name under the sun, she was soon immersed in the technicalities of the quick changes required of her.
The usual preshow panic set in and designers rushed around putting finishing touches to their gorgeous creations.
She had beautiful clothes to wear and despite the chaos going on around her, Cassy managed to make each entrance on the catwalk with her usual immaculate flair for drama and elegance. The morning sped by and after a snatched sandwich and coffee lunch, the audience and trade press arrived to take their seats.
Cassy took a few deep breaths as she waited in the wings for her first music cue.
One moment she loved Jake Everand; the next she hated him. She was raging against his treatment of her. He should not have deceived her about the purchase of Pennyroyal, but she was honest enough to admit that perhaps he had been trying to repay his father’s debt but in the wrong way. She pushed the confused thoughts from her mind and walked out into the blinding white of the spotlights. She was a supreme professional and now all that mattered was the flaming chiffon dress swirling round her slender knees like a sunburst and the yards of pleated stole draped across her bare arms.
Afterwards there was a general collapse in the dressing rooms; exhausted and dishevelled models gasping for tea; harassed dressers trying to find all the clothes and accessories that were their responsibility; the designers congratulating each other, trying to gauge the audience and press response.
Cassy eased the ache in her neck and slowly put on her own clothes. She thanked her dresser, adjusted a big sombrero hat on her severely knotted hair, and let herself out of the Royal Albert Hall into the cooling evening air of the side streets.
“Hello, Cassy. Another hard day’s work?”
Cassy stared at the tall, big-shouldered man waiting in the shadows, his face craggy in the gathering darkness.
“Go away,” said Cassy. “I don’t want to talk to you.” Jake Everand gripped her arm, levering her make-up case out of her hand. She had forgotten how strong he was.
“Nice show,” he went on conversationally. “I caught the last ten minutes. You made a charming bride.”
“What on earth are you doing here? You can’t have the slightest interest in a fashion show.”
Jake shrugged his shoulders. “I was looking for you.”
“Heavens, whatever for?” she mocked. “Not another negative report for me? Or have you reassessed the valuation?”
“I’ve been trying to find you. You must live somewhere, or do you live with someone? You’re not in the phone book.”
Cassy ignored his remarks. She wanted to get home and put her feet up. “Did you try Sjaarstad?” she asked acidly.
His expression did not change. “I see, hiding again behind a different name. No wonder I couldn’t find you. Even when I found your employers, they wouldn’t give me your address.”
“And I should think not. I don’t want to be pestered. Would you mind leaving me alone? I’m in a hurry.”
“I’ll give you a lift.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Cassy impatiently. “We’ve nothing to say to each other. You’ll be hearing from my solicitor, Mr. James Martlake, in due course.”
She struggled to contain her feelings. She had no wish to make a scene in the street, nor did she wish to prolong the meeting. Her anger leapt and flickered.
“You’re a smooth operator, I must say,” she flared at last, with scorn as sharp as a sword. “Trying to buy Pennyroyal off me without my knowledge. What do you think you’re up to?”
“You could at least let me explain,” said Jake. “I realise that it might have been wrong of me to act anonymously, but I guessed, and rightly too, that you wouldn’t like the idea of my buying the mine back into the Everand family.”
“Oh, this exalted family pride! It’s so important, isn’t it?” she scoffed, but her mouth was going dry. She was too tired for this kind of confrontation; despair crept into her voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Cassy. Our family reputation, and in particular the good name of my father, they’re what’s important.” Jake Everand caught hold of her arms and turned Cassy to face him. His face was grim yet still the electricity flashed between them.
“I want the chance to do two things,” he went on, his voice steely with determination. “I must undo the damage my father did to all at Ridge House by paying back the money he borrowed from your grandfather. I also want to prove that Lewis was telling the truth when he said that Pennyroyal was not worthless. He would never have said that if he had not believed it. I must take prospecting samplings of the mine, prepare a drawing sequence; it’ll take months.”
“If you’re so keen to make amends why don’t you just repay the debt and reclaim the deeds to Pennyroyal?” Cassy demanded with a toss of her hair.
“If that’s what you would prefer… Have you details of the transaction? Any papers?”
He was totally in control, so self-contained. She was out of her depth, lost in a search that could never have a happy ending.
Cassy felt herself drowning in her need to stay with Jake, yet they were talking like hostile strangers.
“You can have Pennyroyal back for all I care,” she said wearily. “The mine obviously means a lot to you and who am I to stand between a man and his mine? I don’t want anything more to do with it or with you.”
“What do you mean? Or with me? I’ve done nothing but think about you these last few days. You can’t get rid of me now,” said Jake curtly, with a look that chilled her to the bone.
“You’re just using me. Men always want their own way; their ideas take first place. Women don’t exist as individuals. We just get treated as a form of decoration. You’re no exception in your attitude to women. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with you. One minute we’re getting on fine and I’m beginning to think you�
�re a really nice person; the next you’re hateful and everything you do is cruel and unkind.”
“Thank you for the mini-lecture; that just confirms what I first thought of you. You’re spoilt, selfish and irrational. A wonderful combination with your looks. Quite a mantrap.” She flinched from the wrath in his eyes. “Now, do as you are told and get in the car. Perhaps you don’t care if you get soaked, but I’ve had my fill recently of wearing wet clothes.”
Cassy had not noticed the scattering of rain on her skinny knit suit, almond shaped-drops discolouring the pale fabric.
“I’ll get a taxi.”
“Is there no end to your stubbornness? Don’t you realise that I have never done this before? I don’t usually drive half a day to see a woman. I’m beginning to regret it.”
“Don’t expect me to be flattered.”
“I won’t. I don’t expect anything from you. That’s one thing I’ve learned in these last weeks. Oh Cassy, this is ridiculous.” He let out a long breath and ran a hand over his cropped hair. “Where are we getting with this? Nowhere. We’re wasting valuable time in arguing and fighting when we could be indulging in far more pleasant activities.”
The sudden change of tactics took Cassy by surprise. His face swiftly reflected a tenderness that filled his dark eyes. It seemed that they were alone on the street; the traffic vanished, the pedestrians had all disappeared into an unnatural mist. She was helpless.
“Can I take you home?”
Cassy knew it was a momentous decision.
He searched her face for an answer, touching her chin lightly with his finger. All her resistance went up in flames.
“Only because it’s raining,” she murmured. “And this hat was expensive.”
“Terrific hat,” he agreed.
“I believe you got it to rain on purpose,” said Cassy, glancing up at him uncertainly.
“I did indeed. You’ve no idea the trouble I’ll go to just for a few minutes alone with you.”
Her eyes softened with laughter. “I didn’t know you could control the weather.”
“One of my many talents…”
She glanced round for the muddy Land Rover but Jake was leading her to a big, silver Mercedes parked nearby.
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