Just Rewards

‘That’s fine.’ Dusty paused at the door and, doubting that he would be returning to his studio today, he switched off all the lights. After grabbing his sheepskin coat from the wall peg, he locked the door and walked with Paddy to the beautiful Palladian house set at the top of the hill just a few yards away.

Once inside the house, Dusty murmured, ‘I’d better see Mrs Roebotham first before I greet Atlanta, find out what this is all about. Give me a couple of minutes to freshen up, then bring her to the library.’

‘I’ll do that, sir. And in the meantime, I’ll try to get her to have a cup of tea. She wouldn’t have anything before. But perhaps she will now that she knows you’ll be talking to her in a short while.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Dusty answered, and then he hurried across the marble entrance hall and into the spacious library. The first thing he did was go into the adjoining bathroom where he washed the paint off his hands, splashed cold water on his face, and then ran a comb through his thick black hair.

He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that he looked tired, drained. And also worried. Taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself and stay calm, he returned to the library, straightening his sweater as he went to his desk. Lifting the tweed jacket from the back of the desk chair he slipped it on, then sat down at the desk, his mind in a turmoil.

Something must have happened to Molly Caldwell, Melinda’s mother, he decided, or why would a stranger be here with his child? Unless it was Melinda who was in trouble, and her mother had gone to the clinic to see her. But if that were the case why hadn’t Mrs Caldwell phoned him? She usually did, wanting always to keep him informed of everything that affected his child. She was a good woman.

Propping his elbows on the desk, Dusty dropped his head into his hands. Why today? he muttered under his breath. Why did it have to be today of all days? India was on her way to have lunch, bringing her grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Dunvale, and he wanted everything to go right.

Trouble he didn’t want or need.

But there was no doubt in his mind that trouble was about to come and hit him smack in the face.

He braced himself. Everything was about to go wrong; his gut instinct told him that, and he trusted his instinct. Always had.

‘Tell me about Emma, tell me about Grandy,’ India said as she drove down the driveway of Niddersley House and turned left onto the Knaresborough Road. ‘You promised you would ages ago and you never have.’

‘There’s so much to tell, I wouldn’t know where to begin,’ Edwina murmured, settling herself in the car seat. ‘Do you like this car, India?’ she then asked, changing the subject. ‘I gave it to your father, you know.’

‘Yes, he told me. And I love my Aston Martin.’ Giving her a quick look through the corner of her eye, she then asked, ‘Are you comfortable, Gran?’

‘Very. Thank you for asking,’ Edwina answered, glancing out of the window.

‘So, getting back to Emma Harte. Here’s an idea, why don’t I just ask you questions?’

‘That’s a very good idea, India. But surely you know a lot from your father. He was devoted to her.’

‘Oh yes, I do, and from Mummy as well. Daddy always says he was one of the Praetorian Guards.’

Edwina burst out laughing, and chuckled for a second or two. ‘He spoke the truth. He and Paula, Emily and her late brother Sandy, and Winston felt it was their duty to surround and protect her in every way. I must admit, I did sometimes tease your father, asking him if he and the others were ever tempted to do away with her, as the original Roman Praetorian Guards had often had an urge to slay their leader.’ Edwina chuckled again.

India laughed with her grandmother, and asked, ‘And what did my father say?’

‘He was horrified that I could even countenance such an idea. I’m afraid that my teasing fell flat. He and his cousins were utterly devoted to her.’

‘And you weren’t, were you, Gran?’ When Edwina did not answer, India pressed, ‘You were estranged from her for quite some time. I know that because Daddy told me.’

A low sigh escaped Edwina, and she remained silent for a moment longer before finally saying, ‘Yes, it’s true, I was. I became estranged from her just before I went off to finishing school in Switzerland, and we weren’t very close for a number of years after that.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘It’s such a long story, India dear, and I always get upset when I discuss it these days. I will tell you the details some other time, I promise. Let’s just say, for now, that I was totally wrong. I was the one at fault, not my mother, and when I finally realized that I tried to make amends. And we became devoted to each other at long last.’

‘You sound very regretful, Grandma,’ India said softly, sympathy echoing in her voice.

‘I am, even to this day. I think what I regret most are the years I missed knowing her, being with her, when I was a young woman. I was married to your grandfather, Jeremy, and living with him at Clonloughlin. I was so happy with him and we were devoted to your father, our only child, and I didn’t give a thought to my mother. Not for a very long time.’

‘My father told me he went and sought her out, that he didn’t even tell you.’

‘That’s correct. And it was my uncle, Emma’s brother Winston Harte, who told me that the moment they met was memorable. He said it was instantaneous and absolute infatuation between Emma and Anthony. And they always remained devoted to each other.’ Turning to India, Edwina finished in a low voice, ‘I’m glad your father had the guts to defy me and went to meet his grandmother on his own. They became close and remained close for the rest of her life, and they both benefited from the relationship.’

‘You said earlier that Emma sent you off to live in Ripon with her cousin, Freda. Was that one of the things that upset you?’

Again Edwina was silent as if mulling over her answer, and when at last she spoke she found herself telling the truth. ‘No, not really. I was a baby and I was given a lot of love, care and attention, and it was a pretty, pastoral place to live. Freda was a loving young woman. I knew deep down, when I was older, that Emma had done the best thing for me. We were poor and she had to work hard to support us, and she just couldn’t look after me. Nor was there anyone in Armley who could. Yes, it was the right decision, even though later there were moments when I resented her for doing it. But I was far too young to understand all the ramifications. Later, I did.’

‘You know, Grandma, I really admire you. The way you admit your mistakes, take responsibility for things you did which you now regret. Most people can’t do that … admit they’ve been wrong.’

‘Only too true, India,’ Edwina murmured, ‘and for you to understand that now, at your age, makes you a very smart young woman indeed. I’m proud of you, my dear. Now, enough of the past and Emma. Tell me about your plans.’

‘Just one more question, Gran, and then I’ll stop,’ India pleaded. ‘I’ll talk about my plans, and anything else you want to talk about.’

‘All right. One more question then. What is it?’

‘Everyone says Linnet is Emma’s clone? Is that true? You’d know better than any other member of the family.’

‘Oh yes, she’s the spitting image of her, as Emma looked at that age when I was growing up and living with her. But it’s not only the looks, you know. Linnet is like her in other ways. It’s in the genes, I suppose. She has inherited many of my mother’s mannerisms, and she even sounds like her at times. And quite aside from those things, her personality is similar to Emma’s. Linnet can be brusque and blunt, just as my mother was, and she speaks her mind. Very plainly. I’ve always said to Paula that with Linnet what you see is what you get, and Emma Harte was exactly the same way.’

Edwina sat up straighter in the car seat, and looked at her granddaughter. ‘You might find this hard to believe, but do you know, India, sometimes when I’m with Linnet I feel as if I’m a little girl again and actually with my mother. I fall back into my memories, and I’m transported back in time. It’s rather strange, I must admit.’

‘I suppose it is, but every time I pass that portrait of Emma in the store, I think I’m looking at Linnet – well, the woman Linnet will be when she’s much older.’

A fleeting smile touched Edwina’s face, and after a moment she said, ‘Now come along, you promised to tell me your plans, yours and Dusty’s. And what about his little girl? Will she come and live with you when you’re married?’

‘I don’t think so, Grandma … Dusty feels she should remain with Mrs Caldwell, that’s the child’s grandmother. He doesn’t want to uproot her, bring her to live at Willows Hall with us. Anyway, he always promised Melinda, that’s the little girl’s mother, that he wouldn’t take Atlanta away from her.’

‘I understand his reasoning. And that’s just as well, wouldn’t you say? Surely she’s better with her mother?’

As Edwina said this, she felt a sudden surge of apprehension. She saw trouble on the horizon.

PART TWO

Trio

‘The three clans stand together as one family. Harte, O’Neill and Kallinski against all foes.’

Emma Harte, A Woman of Substance

CHAPTER SIX

Linnet wished she could go up to the moors, but she knew that it was impossible this morning. Snow had fallen during the night and the hills soaring above her along the rim of the horizon were topped with glistening white.

She had to admit that it would be unbearably cold on the ‘tops’, as the locals called the highest parts of the moorland and the high fells that dropped down into the Dales. The snow would make them impossible to traverse, and then there was the wind. It was always blowing up there, even in the best of weather, and today it was bound to be a bitterly cold wind.

For as long as she could remember Linnet had loved the moors above Pennistone Royal, the lovely, ancient house in Yorkshire where she had been born, and which had belonged to her great-grandmother, Emma Harte.

One day it would be hers. Her mother had told her that in great confidence. It was a big secret; no one else could know.

When she was still only a toddler, her mother had taken her up there to play amongst the heather and bracken, under a perfect sky as blue as the tiny speedwells growing in the lower fields below in the warm weather.

The moors were Linnet’s special place, her haven whenever something ailed her. Her mother had told her a long time ago that she had inherited Emma’s love of them.

‘You’re just like Grandy,’ Paula would often tell her, smiling indulgently. ‘Whenever you get a chance, you go rushing up there, especially when you’re troubled or worried about something. That’s exactly what your great-grandmother did for her entire life.’

Linnet was beset by problems on this chilly Saturday morning, all manner of troubling thoughts jostling around in her head. Sighing, she walked down the gravel path towards the Rhododendron Walk, and tried to sort out her worries in the order of their importance.

Uppermost in her mind at this moment was Jonathan Ainsley. A short while ago, Jack Figg had phoned to tell her that Ainsley was no longer in London but now staying at his house in Thirsk, and his very presence in the vicinity made her feel uneasy. Jack always called him a loose cannon and the idea that he might well be just that frightened her. It put her on her guard.

Then there was the situation with Evan’s family. Uncle Robin had invited them all to stay with him for the wedding, and this was now suddenly alarming Jack, alerting him to trouble. He had voiced the thought that each and every one of them would be ‘sitting ducks’, should Jonathan Ainsley decide to pay an unexpected visit to his father at Lackland Priory.

‘But he can’t shoot them dead,’ she had countered, ‘all he can do actually, Jack, is to be very rude to them, and nasty to his father. Uncle Robin’s used to that by now, I should think.’

‘Couldn’t they be accommodated elsewhere for the duration of the wedding festivities?’ Jack had asked, and she had then suggested he speak to her mother about this. ‘I suppose they could stay with us at Pennistone Royal,’ she had gone on swiftly, ‘or with Aunt Emily and Uncle Winston in Middleham. Allington Hall is big enough. But Mummy’ll know best. Mind you, Uncle Robin won’t like it if she interferes with his plans, that I can tell you.’

Jack had answered that Paula was head of the family and he was going to call her the moment he rang off. And then he did just that, muttering, ‘And what she says goes.’

Linnet had nodded to herself as she had replaced the receiver, thinking Jack was right.

Apart from Jonathan Ainsley, Paula’s cousin and the family’s bitterest enemy, Linnet was somewhat concerned about Evan. Thankfully she was all right, and there were no problems with the babies, but that curious fall still puzzled her.

Evan was the most nimble person she knew, and moved around with a unique kind of elegance and grace, and Linnet couldn’t for the life of her understand how Evan had missed the seat of the chair, hit the floor the way she had. It both baffled and bothered her.

Evan and Gideon had arrived at Pennistone Royal on Thursday, earlier than originally planned, and last night she had spoken to Evan about her fall when she and Julian had arrived and had supper with them.

Evan had laughed it off when Linnet had started to gently probe, and so she had let the subject slide away without making any further comment. What truly disturbed Linnet was the remembrance, so clearly etched in her mind, of Angharad standing over Evan in her office, looking down at her, doing nothing to help.

There had been such an odd expression in Angharad’s eyes Linnet had done a double-take, had given her a longer, harder stare, and had been discomfited when she recognized that Evan’s adopted sister was actually looking gleeful. Linnet had not failed to miss the inherent spite in her at that moment, and was enormously troubled by the strangeness of this young woman and her sudden appearance on the scene.

Angharad Hughes had not been due to come to London until next week. She bears watching, Linnet now decided, shrugging further into her cape, increasing her pace down the hill. I wouldn’t put anything past her … she spells trouble.

When Linnet had arrived at Pennistone Royal last night her mother had asked her to stay for the whole of the coming week, so that she could help with Evan’s wedding. ‘Evan can’t possibly do much, darling,’ Paula had pointed out. ‘She’s so very pregnant, and after that awful fall in her office, Emily and I don’t think she should be exerting herself, or doing anything physically stressful.’

Immediately, Linnet had agreed to stay on at Pennistone Royal to help her mother. They were close and always had been, and whenever she could ease Paula’s burdens Linnet tried to do so.

Earlier in the week, Linnet had considered talking to her mother about making certain changes at the store in Knightsbridge, but now she realized this was hardly the right time for such an important and delicate discussion. That must wait until after Evan’s marriage to Gideon next Saturday, only a week away.

The wedding was distracting her mother as much as it was Aunt Emily, mother of the groom. So how could she start bringing up old-fashioned windows that needed a fresh approach to suit the changing times? Or explain the importance of having a spa or suggest the innovative idea of devoting an entire floor to brides and weddings?

Surely her words would fall on deaf ears? Or if they didn’t, they would certainly irritate her mother no end. Paula seemed set in her ways these days, much to Linnet’s chagrin, and change appalled her.

Put it on hold, she muttered to herself, and continued on her way, heading closer to the walk. This had been created by her mother over thirty-five years ago or more, and she had designed it for Emma Harte. The Rhododendron Walk at Temple Newsam, a stately home near Leeds, had been the inspiration, and Paula had copied it down to the last detail, inveterate gardener that she was.

In the summer months it was quite extraordinary to behold, the glossy leaves of the rhododendron bushes alive with colour from the giant flowers … white, lilac and pale pink giving way to tints of dark-rose and purple. The flowery bower was breathtaking at that particular time of the year; now, in winter, the glossy green leaves were speckled with frozen snowflakes and tiny icicles.

At one moment, Linnet stopped and glanced up at the sky. It was forbidding, curdled and cold. The wind was beginning to blow the steel-grey clouds away and quite suddenly a pale sun was visible, a pale-silver orb against the expanse of blue floating above. She was used to the sudden changes in the weather in Yorkshire, especially in the Dales where she had grown up. Rain was prevalent throughout the year; but apparently, it wasn’t going to be a wet gloomy day after all, and this pleased Linnet.

Striding out, humming to herself, she began to enjoy her walk. But at the same time her busy mind was focusing once again on the Hughes family.

She was well aware that Uncle Robin would be upset and disappointed if Owen and his family didn’t stay with him. Robin Ainsley had discovered a new lease on life through the advent of Evan Hughes and her father Owen, his long lost son by Glynnis Hughes. Certainly he looked better than he had for several years.

On the other hand, the Hughes family presented problems all of a sudden, primarily because Jonathan Ainsley was in Yorkshire. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he resented the very idea of a half-brother in the shape of Owen Hughes. As Jack Figg had said, there was no telling what a loose cannon might do.

Jack Figg believed that Ainsley was dangerous, and she had to believe Jack, pay attention to him because he had rarely if ever been wrong, especially when it came to their security, the security of their homes and the stores.

Perhaps her mother would talk to Uncle Robin, instil some sense into him, make him understand his new-found family might possibly be at risk with Jonathan floating around. Yet Robin Ainsley was a stubborn man, and full of confidence about his own judgement. He had been a Member of Parliament for years, and he was a lawyer as well, although never practising. Still, he was an intelligent man, in fact a brilliant man, as his career in government attested. Would he listen to his great-niece, daughter of his half-sister Daisy, to whom he was close these days?

No, wait a minute, Linnet instructed herself. Unexpectedly, it had just struck her that the best person to tackle Robin was his other half-sister, Edwina. They had been especially close throughout their long lives, shared many secrets and problems. ‘Hand in glove,’ was the way her mother had described them recently, pointing out to Linnet that it was obviously Edwina who had helped to facilitate Robin’s long, ongoing affair with Glynnis.

That’s it, Linnet told herself, and immediately came to a snap decision. She would telephone Great-Aunt Edwina the minute she got home, and explain the situation in detail. Paula might be head of the family, but Edwina was the eldest of them all at ninety-five. Furthermore, she still had all her marbles, as Linnet was well aware. Even more importantly, she had immense clout with Robin. To her he would listen, and he would accept her advice, Linnet was convinced.

Glancing at her watch, she realized that Great-Aunt Edwina wouldn’t be at Niddersley House now. When she had spoken to India at the Leeds store yesterday, her cousin had told her she was taking Edwina for lunch at Dusty’s house.

At this moment, India would be driving her grandmother to Willows Hall near Harrogate.

Drat, Linnet muttered to herself, and pressed on along the Rhododendron Walk, formulating a plan as she strode out. She would phone Willows Hall after lunch and talk to Edwina then. And she had no doubt that Great-Aunt Edwina would be delighted to jump into the fray. She had always had the demeanour of a British general commanding his troops, and loved to boss everyone around, especially her siblings.

Julian Kallinski stood at the window of the bedroom at Pennistone Royal which he shared with Linnet, looking out across the lawns.

They were covered in hoar frost on this icy Saturday, and the dark, skeletal branches of the trees were dripping long icicles which looked like miniature stalactites. The whole scene resembled a painting in grisaille, the black and white tints strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of the pale sky.

In the distance he could see Linnet coming down the Rhododendron Walk, returning home, bundled up in her favourite cape. It was bright red and she was hard to miss even from this distance.

A smile struck his mouth and his eyes brightened at the sight of his wife. Wife, he thought, she’s my wife.

He suddenly wondered what he would have done if Linnet hadn’t come to her senses, if she hadn’t ended their silly estrangement.

No, not their estrangement. Hers, actually, from him.

He had never felt estranged from her, only puzzled by her strange behaviour, and achingly vulnerable to her.

After several months of their being apart he had forced the issue, forced her to see him by taking charge of the situation, and not taking no for an answer.

Fortunately, he had chosen the right moment, and she had come back to him willingly, lovingly. And during her emotional and physical capitulation to him, in the searing heat of their mutual passion, she had told him she loved him and only him, and she had finally agreed to become his wife at last.

But what if he hadn’t become assertive because of his frustration, annoyance and anger? None of that might have happened. What if none of those words had ever been said? By him and by her. What would he have done ultimately? How could he have continued his life without her by his side?

It would have been difficult, most certainly, even trying, because their families were so intertwined. He and she might break up, but they would be constantly thrown together.

The three clans of Hartes, O’Neills and Kallinskis had been part of each other’s daily lives for well over a century, since the day Emma Harte, Blackie O’Neill and David Kallinski had met and become best friends in the early years of the twentieth century in Leeds. And they had remained friends until their deaths.

Exile, Julian thought. I would have had to exile myself. I would have had to leave England, go to New York, and run the American end of Kallinski Industries. That would have been the only solution. It would have been dreadful, heartbreaking, a miserable existence. And my life would have been empty and banal without her, without my lovely, red-haired Linnet by my side.

But he wasn’t without her. They were married now, and had been for over five weeks … Married just as they had planned to be married since their childhood … Their dream of marital bliss together had come true in the end.

Smiling to himself, filled with happiness, Julian turned away from the window and went over to the desk in the corner. As he passed the old Queen Anne chest he caught sight of their main wedding picture in its silver frame.

He paused, staring at it for a moment. It was the big family portrait with himself and Linnet in the centre, and surrounding them were the rest of the family. His parents, her parents, her grandmother, Daisy and Great-Aunt Edwina, and the two grandfathers, O’Neill and Kallinski, respectively. And there were their siblings and cousins and the aunts and uncles. The three clans in full force.

Julian focused his attention on his grandfather, Sir Ronald Kallinski, who had managed to stave off death in order to attend their marriage. But sadly he had died in his sleep three days after their wedding, just when he and Linnet had arrived in Barbados for their honeymoon.