Married In A Moment

In Ellena’s view, Justine had some lovely garments in her wardrobe and it would be a sin to throw them out. But Justine had just been a very brave girl, and had presented her with a most beautiful little niece. Justine could do no wrong. Even when, as the weeks went by, she spent money like it was going out of style.

Kit had a single bed fitted into the minute box-room in his flat. It came in useful when, more and more frequently of late, they asked Ellena to come and baby-sit her niece.

Ellena had babysat the adorable scrap a week ago last Saturday evening. But it was on Sunday morning, as she was preparing to return to her own home, that she learned that Justine was as irresponsible now as she ever had been.

Ellena said goodbye to Kit, cooed a ‘bye-bye’ to the wonderful little girl who had so soon won her heart, and was about to make her farewells to her sister when Justine said she’d come out to her car with her.

Oh, dear, knowing her of old, Ellena suspected Justine had something to say which she feared she might not like to hear. She’d had an hour in which to say something—yet she was leaving it until Ellena was on her way out!

‘We’re going away tomorrow,’ Justine announced as they walked to the parking area. ‘We’ll—er—probably be away for a month or so.’

Given that it was January, and had seemed a long winter, a month somewhere warm might do them all the world of good. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, her thoughts on Violette and how they would have to guard her. ‘You don’t think you should wait until the baby’s a little older?’ she queried. She didn’t want to put a damper on their plans but, apart from the time factor, and what would be involved in getting any vaccinations done—wasn’t Violette a little young for such treatment?

‘Oh, we’re not taking her with us!’ Justine answered blithely. While Ellena was starting to be concerned that there was no way she could look after baby Violette for ‘probably a month or so’ and at the same time do her job, Justine was going on: ‘Kit’s heard of this wonderful place in the Austrian Alps. We’re going ski-ing. And don’t worry, Kit’s brother’s going to mind the baby while...’

‘His brother! Gideon? The one who, according to reports, works all day and parties all night?’ Ellena exclaimed aghast.

‘No, not him! Kit’s other brother.’

Ellena was only marginally relieved. ‘Russell, the married one?’

‘Mmm, Russell,’ Justine confirmed. ‘Kit hasn’t seen him in ages, and he’s a bit of a dream—while his wife, Pamela, she’s a bit of a shrew, with a nose for money like no one you’ve ever met! When I mentioned I’d be prepared to pay handsomely—and for the cost of a temporary nanny—she couldn’t offer her services fast enough.’

Apparently Kit had used up all the money left to him by his father. But Ellena didn’t think she liked the sound of this arrangement at all. Perhaps she could employ a temporary nanny herself to take care of the baby during the day and look after her herself at night. But complications stirred before she could so much as voice her thoughts. Apart from the fact that children were not allowed where she lived—crying babies with massive lung power in particular—since qualifying as an accountant she was starting to take responsibility for her own clients; hers was no longer a nine-to-five job.

‘But—but—what about clothes?’ She was putting obstacles in the way on purpose, she knew she was, but somehow she couldn’t bear the thought of them going away and leaving the baby with strangers.

‘Oh, heck, Ellena, I’ve put on an inch or two since Violette arrived; my old salopettes were never going to fit me anyway. Besides, what are credit cards for?’

By the sound of it Justine, who was still replenishing her wardrobe, intended to purchase all she required at her holiday destination.

Ellena knew she was on a losing argument, even as she suggested, ‘Don’t you think Violette’s a little young to be left with strangers? She’s only...’

‘Oh, Ellena!’ Justine exclaimed impatiently. ‘I knew you’d be like this, which is why I didn’t tell you straight away when Kit and I decided to take off. Besides, Violette has met Russell and Pamela—we went there one day last week when we were wondering who best to leave her with. Ideally it would be you, but you’re going up in the world with your job and, having wrecked your social life over the years—I know I’ve been sheer murder for you sometimes,’ she put in, her flare of temper dying as she became love-able, charming Justine again, ‘I just didn’t want to be responsible for wrecking your career so soon after you’ve qualified.’

‘Oh, Justine!’ Ellena said helplessly.

‘Austria’s not the moon,’ Justine smiled winningly.

That had been the last time she had seen her. How glad she was now that she had asked for Pamela and Russell Langford’s address and phone number, that she and Justine had said goodbye on friendly terms. She had managed to wish her a happy holiday, Ellena recalled—and without realising it, took a shaky breath.

‘We’re about to land,’ the stern-faced man sitting across the aisle cut into her darkening thoughts.

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, made hastily aware that she was in an aircraft and that in the next hour or so she could be hearing news that she did not want to hear.

Icy cold air hit them as the plane door opened. Ellena was glad of her thick trousers, sweater and sheepskin coat. Glad, too, of Gideon Langford’s assistance because, for all he didn’t seem to say much, and what he did say was curt and to the point, it was he who made what explanations were necessary. He took over, asking questions—though there was no more news now than there had been then.

She had brought only the barest minimum in the way of luggage, and without humour wondered if perhaps she was more like her younger sister than she realised.

But then Ellena discounted this, realising that, unlike Justine, her reasons were practical. Gideon Langford had said, ‘I’ll have a plane standing by’, so she’d known it might only be a small aircraft with little room for a heavy and bulky suitcase.

Gideon saw to the small airport formalities and she followed him out to a waiting car. The cold no longer bothered her. It was late, dark and her nerves were stretched. She got into the car with no idea where they were going—she just wanted to find Justine.

Kit’s brother was highly efficient, she discovered, for after they had been driving some while the driver pulled up outside a smart hotel. It was not the same one that had been pictured on Justine’s postcard.

The driver got out and opened the door for her. She found herself standing beside Gideon Langford while he relieved the driver of their small amount of luggage.

‘What are we doing?’ she asked, her wits seeming to be numb.

‘I’ve booked a couple of rooms here,’ he replied. He had taken care of her accommodation too, apparently, and he was already turning to go into the hotel.

‘I want to go to...’ She wanted to say Justine’s name, but was caught out by an emotional moment and could not. ‘The other hotel.’

‘So do I—we’ll check in first,’ he decreed, and Ellena realised, as she followed him into the smart hotel and he summoned someone in authority, that Gideon Langford, once he’d had an update on the situation, had always intended to go and check out the other hotel whether she went with him or not.

Ellena stood by him aware that he, or someone in his employ, must have phoned ahead so they’d have somewhere to stay. The local police had been informed that their plane had arrived, apparently, and they, with the hotel manager, adjourned to a private room—but only to hear that there were no new developments, that everything was as bleak as had been forecast. A well-rehearsed plan had been put into operation, with rescue teams combing the area—they had reported back that there was absolutely no chance of anyone caught in that avalanche surviving.

Ellena strove valiantly for control. She could not believe it, would not believe it. Nor, apparently, would Gideon Langford. Stiffly he thanked everyone for their efforts and, flicking a glance to where Ellena stood dry-eyed and taut with control, said. ‘And now, Miss Spencer and I would like to see where our relatives were staying.’

She hated that word ‘were’, the past tense, even if logic said loudly and clearly that since Justine and Kit were not around to occupy their hotel accommodation, ‘were’ very clearly fitted.

They left their luggage to be taken up to their rooms, and drove away from their hotel in the same car in which they had arrived. This time, though, with a police escort. The reason was explained—and also why they were booked into a different hotel—when they got to the place where Kit and Justine had been staying. Regardless of the lateness of the hour and the risk of frostbite, some of the press, having been blocked at the small airport, were keen to have an interview with the missing man’s brother.

Ellena had been aware that Gideon Langford was well known. How well known was borne out by the fact that he knew some of the newsmen by their first names. ‘You know as much as I do, John,’ he answered one reporter, while at the same time ushering Ellena inside the hotel.

‘Who’s the lady?’ someone else asked—they did not get a reply.

The hotel manager showed them up to the room which Kit and Justine had used. ‘I have not had the room disturbed,’ the Austrian assured them, and, receiving their polite thanks, sensitively went out, closing the door behind him.

Only then, alone with Gideon Langford, did it dawn on Ellena, having been in his company for some hours now, how little conversation had passed between them.

Nor did she feel like talking then. She stared round the twin-bedded compact room, imagined she could hear Justine and Kit’s laughter, the way they had been laughing that last Saturday—abruptly she blanked her mind off, and became aware of Gideon Langford opening drawers and poking about in wardrobes.

‘There are a few clothes here—but. no suitcases,’ he stated matter-of-factly.

Ellena went over to the open wardrobe and, standing next to him, observed a couple of ancient anoraks which she recognised as belonging to Kit and Justine.

‘M-my sister was going to buy new,’ she informed him chokily. ‘She was—is—oh, dammit...’ Her voice broke; she turned from him, determined to gain control. Justine wasn’t dead, she wasn’t, and she wasn’t going to cry. ‘Justine is going to buy a whole new wardrobe,’ she made herself continue.

She guessed Gideon was having a hard time with his emotions as well, when he retorted shortly, ‘Kit didn’t have any money!’

Even so, that annoyed her. It gave her the stiffening she needed, anyhow, as she retorted straight back: ‘Then perhaps it’s just as well Justine had her own money—she probably paid for this trip.’ Immediately the acid words were out she felt contrite. She flicked a glance at him, saw he didn’t seem to view her as his favourite person, and at once she apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Langford, I’m trying so hard not to go to pieces. I d-didn’t mean to give you the rough end of it.’

Whether he accepted her apology she had no idea, for he just stood and stared at her from those steady slate-grey eyes. But she rather guessed she had been forgiven when, turning from her, he grunted, ‘Gideon.’

She felt she should curtsy, then wondered if stress had made her light-headed. But she forgot everything save Justine when she spied in one of the open drawers a sweater she had lent her one time.

‘No. definitely no suitcases,’ Gideon announced, sounding positive.

‘If you’re thinking that they may have packed up and left—and you can’t wish it any more than I—I have to tell you, Justine in the main is so happy-go-lucky. She planned to buy anything she needed here—she’s just as likely to have arrived without luggage.’

‘Or followed Kit’s example and packed anything she might have thought of in a plastic carrier,’ he documented, adding, ‘As you remarked, a pair well met.’

They stayed another few minutes in the room but there were no more clues to be picked up; only a few toiletries were left in the bathroom. Ellena could feel her emotions on the brink of spilling over, and had not Gideon suggested they leave she would have made the suggestion herself.

They had chance of a private word with the hotelier, who promised he would contact them instantly, should his guests return. Then, again running the gauntlet of a couple of hardy pressmen, they returned to their own hotel.

Gideon Langford had a room opposite hers and, having escorted her up in the lift, he went into her room with her. ‘Will you be all right here?’ he enquired courteously.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied politely.

He didn’t leave straight away, but stayed to suggest, ‘You’ll want to phone your parents.’

‘My parents are dead,’ she answered tonelessly.

‘You’re on your own?’

‘No,’ she denied. No way was she ready to accept that Justine wasn’t coming back.

‘You live with someone?’ he asked sharply, and she just knew he meant some man.

‘I live alone,’ she responded curtly.

‘Goodnight!’ Gideon Langford turned away from her, obviously fed up.

‘I’m sorry,’ she found herself apologising. ‘I’m—on edge.’

He halted at the door and turned round, relenting, ‘We both are.’ And then proceeded to instruct, ‘Try and get some rest. Have anything you need brought to your room. With a few pressmen around, you’d better stay where you are until I come for you.’ He made to leave, thought for a moment, and then said, ‘I may be out some time tomorrow. I’ll contact you as soon as I get back.’

‘Where are you going?’

He hesitated, but then did her the courtesy of being honest with her. ‘Out to the avalanche site.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ she said at once, no please or thank you.

‘I don’t think—’

‘I’m coming!’ she butted in. If he thought she was going to stay here while he went there—where Justine and Kit might be—he could think again!

He shrugged, ‘Suit yourself,’ and left her.

Ellena supposed she must have slept at some time—it didn’t feel like it. She was up at six, showered and dressed and waiting for Gideon Langford’s call.

It wasn’t long in coming. He would see her in half an hour’s time. Meanwhile, he had some breakfast sent up to her room. Ellena wasn’t hungry, but drank some strong hot coffee and belatedly remembered work she was supposed to be doing that day.

She put through a call to Andrea in England and explained why, and where she was. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back,’ she warned.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Andrea answered warmly. ‘Take as long as you need, Ellena,’ she suggested gently. ‘We’ll all be hoping for you.’

Gideon Langford, when he knocked on her door, was not in talkative mood. ‘There’s no news?’ she asked urgently.

He shook his head. ‘Ready?’

Wordlessly she went with him out of the hotel and to the waiting car, and said not another word in the hour-long drive to where the disaster had occurred.

There were some officials waiting for them, but when, after walking some way, they stood back and pointed and explained about the mass of snow, and the boulders and rocks it had brought down in its wake, Ellena could see for herself that anyone foolhardy enough to chance ski-ing in that area would not have stood a chance.

She felt what little colour she had in her face drain away, felt gut-wrenching pain and wanted to scream, and to go on screaming. She turned away, collided into someone. It was Gideon. His arms came around her. He held her. They held each other, two human beings in need of solace. She guessed that, like her, he had always looked out for his younger sibling and it had been a role taken on willingly. She wanted the holding to go on.

Ellena broke from him, her mind in a turmoil. Somehow she got back to the car; somehow Gideon was there too. The car was moving, she staring unseeing out of one window on one side, he staring unseeing out of the window on the other side.

They had been driving on the return journey for some while. Ellena was still feeling stunned, shaken, and still not ready to believe it, to believe that she had lost her sister, that poor little Violette had lost her parents, when suddenly it hit her that the. poor little scrap might have been orphaned.

‘Oh, no!’ escaped her on an anguished cry of sound, and as Gideon Langford turned from his non-contemplation of the view, she whispered, ‘What about the baby!’

‘Baby?’ he echoed, and sounded so startled that Ellena came to, realising she was not alone. ‘What baby?’ he questioned tautly.

She moved from her own non-contemplation of the view to look at him. And it was her turn to be startled. For clearly Gideon Langford had no idea that Kit had a baby daughter. A daughter of four months old.

Astonished, she realised that Gideon Langford had no idea at all that he was an uncle!

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU didn’t know?’ Ellena gasped.

‘Baby?’ he clipped, clearly wanting to know more, and quickly.

There was no way to dress it up, nor, a shock though it might be to him, try to hide it. ‘Justine and Kit have a four-month-old daughter,’ she replied, and saw a muscle jerk in his strong, good-looking face. Saw him take what she had said on board—and realised that a dozen and one pertinent questions were on their way. But then she saw him flick a glance at their driver, who understood a little English—and Gideon turned from her to renew his non-contemplation of the view from the vehicle’s side window. He had obviously swallowed down those questions but Ellena did not doubt that she would be on the receiving end of them the moment there were no other ears around to overhear what they were saying. Gideon Langford, was well known but, indisputably, he valued his family privacy—and there were pressmen about.

A cold, stiff silence stretched between them and lasted until they arrived at their hotel. Gideon Langford asked for the keys to their rooms. He hung onto them as they went up in the lift and inserted the key into the door of her room. He pushed the door open. She preceded him into her room, knowing that he would follow.

Ellena went over to the window, again looking out but registering nothing very much. She heard the sound of the door behind her being closed. She turned. She was not mistaken, she saw: Gideon Langford had not merely opened the door and left her to it, he was right there with her. Those questions weren’t going to wait any longer—he wanted answers.

Why she should feel hostile to his questioning she had no idea, a self-defence mechanism perhaps? But when he began, ‘This child...’ for short, pithy starters, she discovered an aggressiveness in her that rushed out to meet anything he had to say head-on.

‘Kit and Justine’s baby, you mean?’ she challenged before he could get further.

Her aggressiveness glanced off him, barely touching him, though she didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed slightly at her tone. ‘You’re saying my brother is the father of your sister’s child?’

‘Of course he is!’ she erupted.

‘You’re sure of it?’

How dared he? ‘Listen, you,’ she attacked hotly, ‘Justine may have been a bit wild, a bit of a rebel, and their relationship may have had its—its stormy moments, but there’s been no other man for her but Kit, since the moment she met and fell in love with him!’

‘But they’re not married?’

‘Grief—he’s your brother—don’t you know anything about him?’

‘I know a whole lot about him, including the fact that there was no woman on the scene when I last visited him six months ago.’

‘Your bi-annual visit, was it?’ she threw in tartly, though she almost apologised for that remark when he flicked her an acid look. Then she wondered why the hell should she? Who did he think he was, trying to deny Kit was the baby’s father? ‘Justine lived at home with me until the baby was born—Kit collected them from the hospital and there didn’t seem to be any question that he would take them back to his flat.’

‘They live together?’

‘Happily,’ Ellena declared frostily.

‘Happily unmarried?’

‘I don’t think getting married occurred to either of them,’ she replied honestly.

‘That sounds like Kit,’ Gideon muttered, and asked abruptly, ‘Where is it now—this infant?’

She felt annoyed. ‘Violette,’ she informed him stiffly. ‘Her name’s Violette.’

‘Violette?’ he echoed—much in the same vein as if she’d told him they’d called the child Rover.

‘They chose the name, not me!’ she snapped, and wondered if the stress was getting more than she could take, because her sense of humour seemed to be twitching for a smiling release at his reaction to the baby’s name. She did not smile, however, but informed him, ‘Your brother Russell and his wife are looking after Violette white—’

‘Your sister left a four-month-old baby with that hard-nosed, money-grubbing bitch!’ he interrupted on a snarl.

Ellena blinked in surprise—all too evidently Gideon Langford had little time for his sister-in-law. She recalled that Justine had called Pamela a bit of a shrew; the one and only time she had spoken with her herself, she hadn’t taken to her, either.

‘Your brother left the baby too!’ she defended. ‘Anyway, as well as paying Pamela, Justine also engaged a temporary nanny.’

‘Huh!’ he grunted, and Ellena started to actively dislike him. ‘I phoned Russell just before I left—he didn’t say anything about looking after Kit’s infant!’

‘That’s hardly my fault!’ she flew, her emotions all over the place, her temper seeming to be on a very short fuse. ‘Since you’re a family who only visit every six months, it’s a wonder to me you tell each other anything.’

The chill factor went down another ten degrees as Gideon Langford favoured her with an icy look for her trouble. ‘You know nothing!’ he rapped curtly.

‘I know...’ she went to explode. But then was suddenly so overcome by the events that had taken place that she came to a full stop, words failing her. She swallowed hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm her.

She turned swiftly about, her grief private, not to be shared. She looked down at the windowsill, concentrated hard on it, striving with all she had for control.

So hard was she battling not to break down that she momentarily forgot she wasn’t alone in the room. A reminder of Gideon Langford’s presence arrived, though, when, just as if he knew of her every thought and feeling, he moved behind her and took hold of her.

She felt his firm grip on her upper arms and began to like him again, even though all the evidence pointed to the reverse. ‘Hang on, Ellena,’ he instructed low in her right ear, using her first name, making them more friends than the enemies they’d been a minute ago. ‘They’re not dead. I won’t believe they’re dead.’

She swallowed hard, but did not turn around. ‘I can’t believe it either,’ she said huskily.

For a minute more Gideon held her in that steadying grip. Then he was saying, ‘We have to think of leaving.’

‘I don’t want to leave—I can’t,’ she answered.

‘Yes, you can,’ he countered. ‘I’ll instruct everyone you can think of to contact me the moment they have the barest hint of news.’

She tried to be sensible. ‘You’ve business to get back to, I expect.’

‘It seems incidental,’ he replied—and Ellena knew that she really did like him. He had a multi-million pound conglomerate to run, but it meant nothing to him when his youngest brother was missing.

She realised, common sense giving her a nudge, that they could achieve nothing by staying. ‘When do you want to leave?’ she asked, and felt him give her arms a small squeeze of encouragement.

‘As soon as you’re ready,’ he answered, letting go his hold and moving away.

Ellena turned and looked at him. The icy look he had served her with before had gone, and, for all he was unsmiling, he seemed less harsh than he had been. ‘I’ll just get my things together, settle up here, and...’