The Theotokis Inheritance

A nerve pulsed in Oscar’s neck as he looked down at her, and he was aware of a certain hunger he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

‘We’ll have to think about that,’ he said, averting his gaze. Then, ‘By the way, as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to have anything you want… Take it now.’ He paused. ‘I don’t need any of this,’ he added.

Helena looked up at him seriously. No, I don’t expect you do need anything, she thought. And did she, Helena, need anything? Despite her prospective inheritance, she could never envisage a time when she’d eventually settle somewhere which would happily house such wealth.

‘I don’t want to think about what I want, or don’t want or need,’ she said coolly. ‘Not now. Not yet.’ She paused, her gaze lingering on the figurines for a second. ‘Only those over there—the shepherd and shepherdess—they are the only things that I would love to have.’

‘Feel free to take them, but it’ll all have to go eventually,’ Oscar said firmly. ‘Putting off the inevitable is just procrastination.’ And procrastination hinders progress, he thought. He avoided procrastination wherever possible.

Presently, Helena followed Oscar up the wide staircase to the first floor. Immediately ahead, there were the four bedrooms, and around the corner to the next wing were two more, all with en suite bathrooms, the long windows on this generous landing lighting up the pattern on the richly carpeted floor.

Helena caught her breath as her memories kept flooding in. This was the first time in over nine years that she had been upstairs at Mulberry Court and she had to resist the temptation to run along and throw open the door of the room at the far end which had been ‘hers’—the one in which she had stayed on the few occasions that her father had had to go away.

‘Isobel had so many friends… I remember she was always entertaining, always having people to stay. These rooms were never empty for long,’ Helena said, adding, ‘I stayed here once or twice.’

‘And… this was my room,’ Oscar remarked, throwing open the door to the one they’d come to. He paused, looking around him. ‘I used to enjoy my visits,’ he added, and Helena’s heart missed a beat. Could he actually have forgotten what his visits had meant to her—to both of them? Had he completely obliterated those times from his memory? Had they meant nothing?

After a few more minutes they went outside to wander through the grounds. The kitchen garden at the back was still flourishing and well-kept, Helena noticed, trying not to feel too sad that someone else was now in charge there. Though Benjamin didn’t seem to be around today.

Nothing had changed outside, either, she thought, her eye drawn towards the secluded wooded path that led to their willow tree and, even after all this time, Helena could feel her senses swim at the memory of the intoxicating moments she and Oscar had experienced together. Yet they were walking here now as if none of it had ever happened. As if they were two strangers in a foreign place…

Without her realizing it, Oscar had been looking down at her as they walked, his eyes following her gaze as she’d been reminiscing, and abruptly, as if he’d had enough of all this, he stopped and turned.

‘I need to get back to the Inn,’ he said briefly. ‘I want to check my emails, and I’m expecting an important phone call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, it’s gone one o’clock—you’re probably ready for some lunch, aren’t you?’

To her surprise, Helena wasn’t feeling at all hungry, despite having had no breakfast. But another of Adam’s delicious sandwiches suddenly seemed attractive.

‘OK,’ she said casually as they walked towards the car. ‘And, actually, perhaps I ought to phone my boss. He hasn’t been in the office for a few days, but I know he’s back this weekend. Perhaps there’s something he needs to tell me before Monday morning.’

As they drove back to the Horseshoe, something made Oscar decide to try his luck. He’d been thinking about it for the last hour or more, but he knew he’d have to pick his words carefully.

‘Look, if it would be any help to you, Helena… I’d be more than happy for us to get a true valuation of Mulberry Court, the contents, everything,’ he said carefully, ‘and, allowing for inflation, to pay you a very generous half of the total, now. It would relieve you of all responsibility, and you’ve said you don’t want anything for yourself… other than those figurines.’ He turned to glance at her as she sat beside him impassively. ‘It would save you a great deal of trouble…’

There was complete silence from Helena, and he went on, ‘Of course, the sale can’t proceed for a year, as we both know, but if you agree, at least one of us will be spared considerable interruption to our life. John Mayhew would sort out the transaction for us, I’m sure,’ he added.

He drew into the car park and looked across at Helena, noting her flushed features.

‘You’ve forgotten what I said, Oscar,’ she said, staring straight ahead. ‘I’ve already told you—I want to be able to play my part in making sure that we deal sensitively with all the material possessions which Isobel held dear.’

Now she did look at him, her eyes almost crackling with distaste. She knew what his game was—he wanted her out of the way! For his own convenience, not hers. She was an unnecessary encumbrance! Although he may have cared for her once, he didn’t care about her now and he didn’t care about Isobel’s lovely things, either, which he’d make sure went to the highest bidder.

She opened her door, then looked back at him squarely.

‘I am grateful for your concern at the “interruption” to my busy life,’ she said, ‘but… thanks, but no thanks, Oscar. Mulberry Court and I have a very long way to go before we’re through.’ And with that she got out of the car and walked swiftly towards the entrance to the Inn.

* * *

Back in his room, Oscar took his laptop from the wardrobe and threw it down on the bed, admitting to feeling unusually distracted. Exploring Mulberry Court this morning had ruffled his memories more than he’d expected and he’d felt his aunt’s presence in every corner. He knew he had always felt closer to her than to his own parents, and her wise gaze as she’d looked down at him from that portrait had unnerved him slightly.

He shrugged. Anyway, he’d probably blown any chance of Helena agreeing to his perhaps unrealistic proposal. It had obviously been the wrong moment to have mentioned it, he thought. If ever there was to be a right one. He remembered enough about her to know that she had a mind of her own, and would not easily be persuaded into making decisions she might later regret.

But what to do with the house and its contents was a totally insignificant matter compared with the far more vital one to be handled, he thought. Because he had the distinct feeling that he’d been awakened from a hundred-year sleep and by the most desirable woman he’d ever known. Or was ever likely to know. But had he woken up in time?

CHAPTER THREE

TRYING to subdue her somewhat ruffled feelings, Helena went into her bathroom to wash her hands and put a brush through her hair.

The morning had been a rather emotional experience, she thought. At certain points it had seemed to her as if she and Oscar were trespassing, which was obviously silly because Mulberry Court was legally theirs. But Isobel’s presence had seemed to follow them as they’d wandered through her home, and it seemed wrong to Helena that she hadn’t been there as well.

But what was really getting to her now was Oscar’s proposal that she should wash her hands of their present situation and leave him to it. Even if it would obviously mean that straight away a very considerable amount of money would come her way. She sighed briefly. He wouldn’t have the sensitivity to understand her feelings—the look on his face had said everything. But she felt, acutely, that Isobel had left this assignment to the pair of them, to be handled with dignity, obviously thinking that two heads were better than one.

Helena frowned as she dwelt on all this. Perhaps she was being mean, not giving Oscar the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he really did have her interests at heart. Then she shook her head, responding to that thought. No, this was all about him, wanting to go it alone without the handicap of someone else possibly having an opinion that didn’t match his. He was, after all, a cutthroat businessman—he had to be, surely, as the head of the Theotokis dynasty? Sentiment didn’t come into it because everyone knew that there was no room for sentiment in business.

With her head beginning to throb with all these teeming thoughts, Helena decided that for the moment she’d had enough. Taking her mobile from her bag, she dialled his number.

‘Oscar, I’ve developed rather a bad headache,’ she said calmly. ‘So I’m going to have a lie down. Perhaps we can continue our… discussions… later. At supper?’

There was barely a pause as he responded snappily—she’d obviously interrupted something. ‘Fine. I’ll book a table downstairs for eight.’ And, after a moment, ‘If you think you’ll have recovered by then.’

Helena could imagine him raising his eyes impatiently at what she’d just said. Then she sighed. She didn’t usually have negative thoughts about people, about anyone, but somehow, she and Oscar… It had to be the disparity in their positions which had ignited the latent inferiority complex which she occasionally had to battle with, she thought. Well, thanks to Isobel, for the moment she was now exactly on a par with him. There was no need for her to feel that he had any advantage over her at all, and she must keep reminding herself of that. For one year, they were to be partners.

‘Oh, I’ll be fine by then,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ll see you at eight.’ And with that she rang off. Anyway, she thought, he wouldn’t be sorry to have some time to concentrate on far more important things.

As he drank his glass of whisky in the bar, Oscar had to accept that the morning hadn’t gone as he’d expected. He’d fondly imagined that he and Helena could have had a straightforward discussion about his aunt’s possessions—to make a list of what they wanted to take away with them, wanted to sell, to at least have made a beginning. He’d fully expected Helena to want some of the contents of Mulberry Court for herself, maybe a picture or two, or a small chair or some books, things that would easily fit into her car to take away. Arrangements could be made for anything else she might fancy to be delivered to her place later. But apparently she didn’t wish for anything at all except those ornaments, and she’d made it clear where her instincts lay—to leave it all in situ.

Helena was just lying on the bed reading her book and sipping the last of her coffee when her mobile rang. As she answered it, Simon Harcourt’s voice met her ears and she frowned slightly. ‘Oh—hello, Simon,’ she began, then listened for several minutes while he explained the reason for his call.

Interrupting at last, Helena said, ‘Actually, Simon, I won’t be available to come to the conference with you that weekend because… I’m afraid I shall actually be giving you my notice on Monday,’ and before he could say anything, she went on quickly, ‘I’ve learned that I’ve just inherited a property in the country, and it’s not a straightforward matter, so I need to leave London almost at once.’ She swallowed, hard. Well, she’d burned her boats as far as Simon was concerned. Where she stood with Oscar was another matter!

Helena slipped into her simple knee-length three-quarter-sleeve aubergine dress—which she’d decided at the last moment to bring with her—and glanced at herself in the mirror. The garment was still a favourite item in her wardrobe, and whenever she wore it she always made a point of sweeping her hair up on top, which she felt suited the low boat-shaped neckline. Her only make-up was her light foundation and a slick of eyeshadow. Her long pearl-quartz earrings completed the picture.

As the ancient clock on the landing chimed eight, she made her way downstairs. Oscar was standing at the bar, talking to Adam, and both men looked up as she approached, Oscar with a heightening of his pulse, which he tried to ignore.

As Helena approached, she smiled quickly, noting Oscar’s undeniably sexy appearance. He was dressed in light trousers and designer jacket and open-neck shirt; his hair had been newly washed, the dark, determined jaw obviously clean-shaven. A perfect model for any advertisement, she thought instinctively.

Immediately, Adam came from behind the bar, two large menus in his hands, and beckoned the two to follow him, leading them over to a table in the far corner of the restaurant.

Holding Helena’s chair out for her, he said, ‘Tonight’s special dish is seared sea bass—caught this morning,’ he added proudly. Then he took the just-opened bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the table and filled their glasses. ‘I’ll be back for your order as soon as you’ve decided,’ he said.

‘He seems to run a very tight ship here,’ Oscar commented, glancing at the man’s retreating figure. ‘By the way, I hope you approve of this… of my choice,’ he said, picking up his glass.

How could Helena not approve? It was vintage champagne. She put the glass to her lips and sipped at the frothy bubbles, looking across at him steadily. ‘Is this by way of a celebration?’ she asked enigmatically.

Oscar raised a brow. ‘If you like,’ he said casually. Well, they had just been left a fortune. ‘I hope you don’t have a problem with champagne?’

Helena smiled briefly. ‘I’ve only had it twice before—at weddings,’ she said. ‘And while I’m no connoisseur, I always found it a very… special… drink.’ She paused. ‘Thank you,’ she added.

A muscle pounded in Oscar’s jaw as he gazed across at her. She looked so unutterably lovely he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Her hair was shining, its thick bands glinting like gold in the flickering candlelight, but she did look pale, and he said briefly, ‘Are you feeling OK now… has your headache really gone?’

‘Absolutely,’ Helena said lightly. ‘And, as a matter of fact, I’m feeling quite hungry,’ she added. She picked up her menu, hoping he didn’t notice it trembling slightly between her fingers. In a thousand lifetimes could she ever have imagined she’d be so close to Oscar again? To breathe the same air that he was breathing? To watch that firm mouth with the immaculate teeth, white against his suntan? He wasn’t merely good-looking, not merely handsome; he had that stunning, sultry, Mediterranean charisma that turned every gullible female heart to jelly.

As they gave Adam their order and waited for their meal to arrive, Oscar said, ‘I’ve had time to think things over this afternoon and I can’t help wondering if it’s the right thing to be leaving the house unoccupied for so long.’ He drank from his glass. ‘There’s a big problem with squatters taking over empty premises—certainly in London at the moment—and I understand that once they’re in, it’s difficult to get rid of them.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘Of course, I know that Benjamin and Louise will always be close at hand, but that wouldn’t stop determined individuals from gaining entry on a dark night—and if that did happen it would certainly add to our problems.’ He paused. ‘Maybe we should consider a short-term let,’ he added, ‘as a safety measure.’

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