Читать книгу Secrets Of The Outback - Margaret Way - Страница 9

BLAIR SKINNER WAS ALL SMILES, as he shook hands with his favorite clients, then waited until they’d seated themselves—he had special chairs brought in for such occasions—before he returned to his revolving leather armchair behind the desk. Lady Copeland had asked for this meeting, bringing along not her son, Travis, as might under normal circumstances have been expected, but Keefe Connellan. Keefe would provide company, support and advice. And few better, Skinner thought, scanning Connellan’s handsome familiar face. Keefe had hair that was almost jet-black, and his eyes were equally dark. They were remarkable eyes, ablaze with intelligence and a shrewd intensity that a lot of people, including Skinner, found daunting, but they also had a marvelous capacity to light up with humor and an irresistible charm. Men as well as women felt it. Skinner, the clotheshorse, approved of Connellan’s unmistakable sense of style—the dark-gray suit, beautifully tailored to fit his tall, athletic body, the very pale lilac shirt worn with an olive silk tie patterned with lilac, silver and midnight blue. Keefe Connellan looked what he was: a rich, highly successful young man from a powerful and influential family.

Lady Copeland, as usual, was lovely, but getting very fragile. Skinner knew she was seventy-five but she didn’t look anywhere near that age. She always dressed beautifully, today in one of her exclusive little suits, in a shade of indigo that was particularly effective with her wonderful eyes. She wore glorious triple-stranded South Sea Island pearls around her neck, chin-length pearl-white hair classically framing a face whose bone structure would probably look good forever. Her skin was extraordinarily unlined. Granted, she had the money for the most expensive skin treatments in the world, but so did other clients of the same age and none of them looked as good. Davina Copeland was and remained a genuine beauty.

She was smiling at Keefe now. Skinner could see the ease and depth of affection that lay between them. They seemed to be seasoned confidants—even co-conspirators. Certainly this kind of bond didn’t appear to exist between mother and son, which was possibly one of the reasons Lady Davina Copeland still held the reins of power in Copeland Connellan.

“So?” Keefe asked with his slow smile, deliberately breaking into Skinner’s thoughts. “Perhaps we could get started, Blair. I have an appointment in just over an hour. Lady Copeland has filled me in thus far, but perhaps you can tell me more. On the face of it, I don’t think we can rule out industrial espionage.”

Skinner inclined his head in acknowledgment. “But we want proof.”

“Of course.” Keefe leaned forward, assuming like lightning a different guise—official, authoritative, keeping his brilliant black gaze on the lawyer. “And I’m quite sure we can obtain it. Inside the law. Just one question.”

Skinner hoped he was prepared for it….

WHEN THE KNOCK CAME some twenty-five minutes later, Skinner was so intent on the discussion, he wondered for a moment who would have the temerity to interrupt him when he was with such important clients. Anger flared in his eyes, and he swung around in his revolving chair, remembering at the last moment that he’d instructed Eugenie Bishop to make a calculated appearance around that time.

“Enter,” he called curtly, his expression fixed. All exchanges with Keefe Connellan raised him to this level of intensity. Keefe was more than his equal when it came to strategy and points of law. It didn’t make him dislike Connellan; rather, Skinner strove constantly to be well regarded by the younger man.

As they all glanced toward the door, Jewel opened it and walked gracefully into the room, her demeanor poised and confident. Before Skinner could open his mouth to introduce her, Lady Copeland, suddenly looking years older, simply slid from her chair onto the carpeted floor.

“My God!” Skinner leapt up in agitation, wondering if he’d imagined the icy hostility that swept Keefe Connellan’s face. Clearly they were both shocked. Connellan was already down on his knees, demanding a glass of water. Lady Copeland was already stirring, her face white as a sheet.

“Keefe,” she said almost desperately, clutching at his jacketed arm. “Keefe.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her in a strangely harsh tone. “We can handle this, whatever it is. Let me get you up.” He put his strong arms beneath her and lifted her into the chair, keeping a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Lady Copeland?” Jewel was back within seconds, carrying a glass of cold water, which she offered to the woman.

“Who are you?” Lady Copeland asked in a quavering voice. She clearly wanted some sort of answer, but Jewel felt it was beyond her.

“I should’ve explained,” Skinner said hastily. “This is one of our associates. Eugenie Bishop, Lady Copeland.”

“Bishop?” Connellan turned to stare at Jewel.

“I don’t understand.” It was impossible to ignore the hostility that emanated from him, the half-horrified, half-fascinated expression on Lady Copeland’s face.

“Here, let me help you.” Jewel moved quickly, seeing Lady Copeland’s hand shake badly. She didn’t even pause to consider that Lady Copeland might reject her help. As it happened she didn’t, allowing Jewel to assist her in bringing the glass to her mouth.

“I’m so sorry. Are you feeling better?” Jewel asked, bending to peer into the older woman’s face.

“I’m fine.” Lady Copeland gave a faint little smile that struck Jewel oddly as very brave after that sudden, shocking collapse.

“And why is Ms. Bishop here, precisely?” Keefe Connellan looked at Skinner with unconcealed contempt.

“Mr. Skinner was after a particular file,” Jewel fired back levelly. She’d never met a man like Connellan. Who the devil did he think he was? She felt a wave of answering aggression. More to the point, what had she missed? She’d surely missed something. He was looking at her as though she was playing some high-stakes game. Or as if she had secrets to hide. What on earth was going on? Whatever reaction she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.

Connellan now held out his hand like a man used to a great deal of authority. “Show me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connellan, it’s confidential.” She kept her expression neutral.

“I thought it might be,” he said. “I’d like to see it, all the same.”

Skinner interrupted uneasily. “Look here, Keefe, Ms. Bishop is one of our finest young lawyers and my protégée. She did a lot of research for the Quinn Corp.-Omega takeover. I thought it was time you met her.”

“So you arranged it.” Connellan’s tone was hard.

Skinner shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Keefe. Or why you’re upset.”

Connellan took a step closer to Lady Copeland, his manner both protective and daunting. “Are you feeling better, Davina?”

“Perhaps a cup of sweetened tea?” Jewel suggested, already turning to go.

“Thank you, my dear, but no.” Lady Copeland spoke quietly and gently. “I’m sorry if Mr. Connellan and I seem distracted.”

“We can scarcely fail to be,” Connellan said, his voice clipped. “I’m curious, Ms. Bishop. How long have you been with the firm?”

“Three years.” Jewel returned his challenging gaze with one of her own.

“Ms. Bishop came to us with wonderful references,” Skinner submitted, sounding quite confused.

“And where did you work before that?” Connellan asked.

Such unfettered arrogance, Jewel thought. She named the highly respected law firm in the north.

“But you wanted to come to Brisbane?”

She nodded a shade too curtly. “It’s not too terrible to be ambitious, is it, Mr. Connellan? I needed more demanding work.”

“Eugenia graduated top of her class,” Skinner pointed out. “Indeed, she won the University Medal. Across all disciplines on all campuses, as I believe you did yourself, Keefe.”

Connellan ignored him. “Go ahead, Ms. Bishop. As you might imagine, we’re particularly interested.”

“Really?” Jewel couldn’t mask her surprise. “You only met me a minute ago.”

Lady Copeland, who had listened without interrupting, now spoke. “What is your background, my dear?”

Jewel felt astonished by her interest. “I could show you my file, Lady Copeland, but shouldn’t I be getting you a cup of tea?” She sought to keep her tone respectful.

“I’ll ring for it.” Skinner moved quickly to the phone, betraying an uncharacteristic agitation, not without a hint of excitement.

“I find it hard to believe you’re a country girl,” Keefe Connellan said, his black eyes moving so disturbingly over Jewel that she felt herself flush. She was developing a profound dislike of this too-handsome, too-arrogant, too-rich and powerful man.

“But I am, Mr. Connellan. Take it or leave it. In fact, I was born on an Outback cattle station.”

Incredibly he laughed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said strangely. Facing her, he was disconcertingly close.

“Doing?” Her vivid blue eyes sparkled with anger. Jewel was confident in herself and her own abilities. She refused to let this man belittle or insult her, no matter who he was.

But he smiled at her. A curiously unnerving smile, for all that it lit his lean, darkly tanned face. “You’d better be good.”

Lady Copeland spoke in a voice so strained it seemed almost theatrical. “It’s all falling into place. Your father was a Steven Bishop? Overseer on one of our properties, Mingaree Station, some twenty years ago.”

Skinner looked over at Jewel quizzically. He had always sensed this girl had some mystery to her. Was that what it was all about? Her father? What had Bishop done?

Jewel inclined her gleaming blond head, one side sweeping forward to shield her face. “He was. Perhaps you could tell me, Lady Copeland, why you and Mr. Connellan are so interested. My father died tragically, as you must know—or perhaps you don’t. He wasn’t important in your scheme of things.”

“I didn’t know him, my dear,” Lady Copeland confirmed gently. “I saw him only once in my life, at my late husband’s funeral.”

“I was six at the time,” Jewel answered, just as quietly. “I don’t really remember Dad going, but my mother told me he attended the funeral with a party of cattlemen.”

“What else do you remember?” Keefe Connellan asked.

Jewel turned on him with magnificent disdain. “He never came home.”

In the midst of the bitterness, he suddenly sounded sincere. “I’m sorry.”

“Blair, I wonder if you’d mind leaving us for a few minutes?” Lady Copeland unexpectedly took the initiative. “I would appreciate it.”

Keefe Connellan intervened. “Davina, I don’t think this is the right time. You just fainted and you’re still very pale. I should take you home.”

“Ten minutes, no more.” Lady Copeland threw him a trusting smile.

“Take as long as you want, Lady Copeland,” Blair Skinner said, not meeting Jewel’s eyes. “I have things I can attend to.”

He went to the door, practically colliding with a secretary carrying a silver tea tray. The secretary smiled at Jewel, who went to her and said thank you, then put the tray down on a side table. As Skinner shut the door, Jewel poured Lady Copeland a cup of tea, asking over her shoulder if she took milk.

“No, my dear. No sugar, either, but perhaps today…”

Jewel ladled in two teaspoons and passed the elegant cup and saucer to Lady Copeland, who took it with a steadier hand. “Tell me about yourself,” Lady Copeland invited, gesturing to the armchair Keefe Connellan had vacated. He stood, arms folded, and leaned against Skinner’s desk.

“You’re dying to tell someone, aren’t you,” he said.

“Pardon me, but are you insane?” Jewel let her own hostility spill over.

He stared at her for a few moments, his handsome face drawn into somber lines. “I’m so very sorry, Ms. Bishop, if I’m Goddamn offending you.”

“Keefe!” Lady Copeland endeavored to soothe him. “Maybe she doesn’t—”

“Doesn’t what?” Jewel asked, finding the whole situation bizarre. Yet was it? Now that she was really looking at Lady Copeland, she was swept by a strange sense of familiarity.

“Does your mother live with you?” Lady Copeland asked, sipping her tea, then putting it down.

“My mother lives in Hungerford, North Queensland, where I was raised. Perhaps you can give me a clue, Lady Copeland. I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

“You haven’t looked in the mirror for a while?” Keefe Connellan asked in a dark voice.

Jewel sat back wearily. “Could this possibly be the nature of your enquiry, Mr. Connellan? My appearance?”

Though she spoke sardonically, inside her was growing panic, confusion, even fear.

“So it’s come to you at last. My, my, my!” he drawled, eyes snapping.

In desperation, Jewel turned to Lady Copeland, who was now excessively pale. “Please tell me! I swear I don’t know what this is all about.” Lady Copeland was gazing at her with such a strange expression but for the moment seemed quite unable to reply.

“We didn’t get much notice, either,” Keefe Connellan said, his handsome features drawn tight. “Tell me, are there many golden-haired, black-browed, sapphire-eyed women in your family?” he asked. “Don’t look so stunned. You’re a beautiful woman with very distinctive features.”

“So?” Jewel spread her hands. “Please continue.”

“But, Ms. Bishop, you’ve even got your hair cut the same way. Tell me, are you and Skinner enjoying this? I assure you your enjoyment won’t last long.”

Jewel stood up, her mind racing. This meeting had implications that were deeply disturbing. They could also cost her her job. “There’s no way I can continue to sit here and listen to this,” she said. “Either you come out with the information you appear to have, or I’ll break all the rules by walking out on you.” Arrogant son of a bitch. He could get her fired, but she no longer cared.

Behind her Lady Copeland sighed heavily. “My dear, I may be almost three times your age and I, too, am breaking all the rules by saying this, but you’re the living image of me when I was in my twenties.”

“The question is, why haven’t you noticed?” Keefe Connellan demanded before Jewel could hope to speak.

He moved suddenly, taking her by the arm and guiding her toward a gilded mirror that hung between two ceiling-high Georgian bookcases.

“Please let go of me,” Jewel said from between clenched teeth. Her confusion was growing.

He removed his hand immediately but continued to watch her with careful eyes, their two heads reflected in the mirror. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Ms. Bishop?” he asked.

She felt as though she was hardly breathing. “Fine, there’s a resemblance,” she conceded. “I see it now, but I was never looking for it. Hardly! All I can say is that it’s a coincidence. And for the record, Blair Skinner has never remarked on any such resemblance.”

“He must have known,” Connellan said.

“Known what?” She swung on him. Tall herself, she had to look up at him. “What sense is there in keeping me in the dark? I’m not a fool. You seem to be implying that Blair Skinner and I have devised some strategy to bring me to Lady Copeland’s attention.”

“Haven’t you?” he challenged.

“Please, Keefe.” Lady Copeland spoke quietly.

Jewel ignored him and walked back to where Lady Copeland was sitting. She noticed that a fraction of color had come back into the woman’s face. Jewel sat down so her own face would be level with the older woman’s, staring into eyes she now saw with shocking clarity were indeed like her own. “I wouldn’t for the world be party to any plan to upset you, Lady Copeland. Neither would Blair Skinner. He respects you greatly. It was exactly as he said. I’ve done quite a bit of work on the Quinn Corp.–Omega takeover. I’m well thought of in this firm. He felt it was time I met some of our more important clients.”

“Surely you could up with something better than that?” Connellan stood tall, his expression cool and cutting. An imposing figure who clearly didn’t believe her.

“I don’t think I could come up with anything better than the truth. In any case, this isn’t a courtroom, Mr. Connellan,” she reminded him.

“But you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Nonsense!” she said emphatically.

“Perhaps, my dear, we’ve all been taken by surprise?” Lady Copeland suggested, still looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Or you and Mr. Connellan have leapt to a conclusion,” Jewel countered. “I don’t allow myself to be used by anybody. That includes my boss.”

“Maybe you could visit me so I could find out more about you.” Lady Copeland for all her power and influence seemed to be pleading.

Jewel stared back at her, perturbed. “There can’t be any connection between us, Lady Copeland, no matter how strong the resemblance. Isn’t it said we all have a double somewhere?”

“Perhaps not so close to hand. I have to admit you play the game well,” Keefe Connellan said dryly.

Jewel faced him, terribly unnerved but determined not to be thrown off balance. “Game, what game?” she asked. “Why do you seem to think it’s your place to confront me, Mr. Connellan? Why this hostility? My God, it fills the room! I don’t feel the same antagonism coming from Lady Copeland.” It was perfectly true. Lady Copeland’s demeanor was curiously nonthreatening.

Connellan merely shrugged. “To answer your question, I’ve known Lady Copeland all my life. I care about her. We’re part of a tight circle. Whoever disturbs her, disturbs me. I wonder if you fully appreciate that.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Connellan.” Jewel met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Perhaps you should be.” A faint smile curved his mouth. “What was the plan? First the meeting, then the blackmail?”

It was an insult too great to be borne. Before she knew it, Jewel’s hand flew up spontaneously and she struck Keefe Connellan across his arrogant face.

The silence in the room was profound. Jewel felt her heart flutter.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean that,” she said.

“Yes, you did.” Connellan rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s a first, anyway. I’m sure you’ll tell me next that you’re the proud possessor of a black belt.”

“I apologize,” Jewel said, feeling his whole aura intensely. “But you have to admit you deserved it.”

“What else have you got up your sleeve?” he enquired with mock politeness.

Jewel was utterly exasperated. “I want to hold onto my job. I deeply regret this upset, but I feel I’m the innocent victim here.” She turned to Lady Copeland, who appeared to be hanging on her every word. “This is the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on you, Lady Copeland. I’m sorry if—for whatever reason—that makes you sad.” And sorrow was the expression printed on Davina Copeland’s face.

“Oh, it does, my dear.” Lady Copeland flung a narrow hand to her heart. “Forgive me, but…you’re not hiding anything from us?”

This would be ridiculous if it weren’t so disturbing. “I’m sorry, Lady Copeland. I’ve already told you no. If we’ve finished our conversation, I should get back to work.”

Again Keefe Connellan intervened. “So how did you get this job? Who offered it?” He glanced at his watch.

“I’m not sure this is any of your business, Mr. Connellan.”

“Oh, it is,” he muttered grimly.

“I was recommended to Mr. Skinner by Professor Goldner from the university,” she said, knowing he would check.

“So Skinner is definitely mixed up in it?”

Jewel sighed in disbelief. “I haven’t the vaguest idea what you mean. I came with very good references and recommendations. Let’s get that straight.”

“By all means,” he said tersely.

“I hope you’re discreet, Ms. Bishop?” Lady Copeland suddenly appealed to her.

Jewel frowned. “Lady Copeland, what do I have to be discreet about? Do you think people will gossip if they notice our strong resemblance?”

Keefe Connellan exhaled loudly. “You bet your life they will. It’s impossible to miss.”

“Do you think so? They’d have to be looking for a hidden mystery then,” Jewel said. “However, it hardly matters, since I don’t move in Lady Copeland’s circles.”

“No doubt Skinner hoped to change that?” He spoke so sharply his words gave Jewel a twinge of fear.

They stared at each other like combatants, neither yielding, both tense. “No need to investigate Blair Skinner,” Jewel said firmly. “He never puts a foot wrong.”

“You mean so far,” Connellan returned curtly. “Playing us for fools would guarantee disaster.” He moved then, touching Lady Copeland’s delicate shoulder. “I think we should go, Davina. Jacob will take you home and drop me on the way. I have an appointment with Drew Westaway uptown. I’d break it, but it’s critical.” He glanced at Jewel, brilliant black eyes narrowed. “You can inform your boss we’re leaving,” he said, his face taut.

“If that’s what you want. Let me say again that I deeply regret any upset I may unwittingly have caused you, Lady Copeland. I’ll speak of it to no one.”

Connellan laughed—an attractive if discordant sound. “That’s a bit rich. Skinner can’t wait to discuss this.”

“What do you expect, given your attack on me? Naturally I have to say something.”

“Of course. Is your mother in on this, too?”

Nothing so far had prepared Jewel for that. She went white. “My mother is a very sick woman, so watch it, Mr. Connellan. I’d just love to slap you again.”

“Only this time, I’ll deal with it,” he promised, gently propelling Lady Copeland to the door.

Nearing it, Lady Copeland paused. “If I asked you to come and visit me, would you consider it, Eugenie?” Her still-beautiful face revealed a strange longing.

Jewel found herself nodding, lured somehow by the use of her Christian name. “I think I want that, too, Lady Copeland, just so long as Mr. Connellan is nowhere nearby.”

“Are you sure about that, Davina?” Connellan shot a questioning look at her.

“Quite sure, my dear.” She smiled at him and patted his arm. “I need to learn more about Eugenie. You see that, don’t you?”

He turned, studying Jewel’s resolute stance. “I do, in a strange sort of way,” he admitted. “Just bear in mind that Ms. Bishop, for all her beauty and avowed brightness, could pry us all apart.”

Shaking inside but using her characteristic self-confidence as camouflage, Jewel went in search of Blair Skinner, finding him in the boardroom frowning over a coffee.

“Well?” He looked distressed, and was without his usual bold quip. “Can I go back into my office?”

“They’re gone, Blair.” Jewel resisted a groan. “Connellan had an appointment.”

“Mr. Connellan to you,” Skinner reminded her stonily and stood up. “I don’t understand this. They left without speaking to me?”

“I’m sure Mr. Connellan will be remedying that,” Jewel answered abruptly, bringing a chill to Skinner’s eyes.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Beats the hell out of me, Blair.” She gave a brittle laugh. “It’ll be mentioned, so I’m not betraying a confidence. It seems that both of them—Lady Copeland and Mr. Connellan—figure we’re playing some kind of game with them. I’m quoting Mr. Connellan himself.”

Skinner actually blanched. “My God, Eugenia, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious,” she said.

He looked at her with a grim expression. “You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you,” he accused. “I suspected it right from the beginning.”

“Nevertheless you hired me. Why?” The why was starting to worry her.

“Because I thought there was something special about you,” he answered testily. “Don’t act like a dolt. It doesn’t suit you. What caused Lady Copeland to faint? Keefe looked at me quite murderously. It was all about you, wasn’t it. And your father. What on earth did he do? If you tell me he made off with Copeland money, I promise I won’t scream. God knows, old Sir Julius broke a few laws. But then, he had us legal eagles to get him out of trouble. What does hurt is the fact that you’ve never seen fit to confide in me, Eugenie.”

“I never thought I had much to confide.”

“Sit down,” Skinner advised briskly. “I know you well enough to realize beneath that brazen exterior you’re falling to pieces.”

Jewel took a seat. “I think you’re right. What about getting me a cup of coffee—to show you care?”

This was received with a scowl. “You’re really something. You know that?” He disappeared, then returned a moment later with two steaming china mugs. “Give it to me straight. Any lies, and I promise you’ll be out of here just like that!” He snapped his fingers.

“You and me both.” Jewel took a tentative sip. Too hot. At least the coffee was good. “Blair, I’m going to ask you something.” She switched her eyes from the mug to him. “And I’d appreciate the truth. Have you been aware of the resemblance between Lady Copeland and me?”

Skinner’s jaw dropped in amazement. Either he was a wonderful actor or he had just suffered a severe shock. “What are you saying, Eugenie?”

“Have—you—ever—noticed?” She leaned closer to him, deliberately spacing her words.

“Sweet, sweet Lord! What a fool I am.”

“Welcome to the club. I take it you haven’t. However, the cat is out of the bag. Whatever cat it might happen to be.” Jewel had just enough left in her to speak flippantly. It was her way of overcoming her own tremendous shock. “Lady Copeland told me she thought I was the image of herself when young.”

Skinner put his knuckles in his mouth. He rose to his feet shouting, “That’s right!” then fell back, lowering his head and holding it in his hands. “And they think the two of us set up a meeting!” he muttered despairingly.

“I think they saw themselves as two blackmail victims.”

“If I’ve made enemies of those two, I’ll have to move abroad. Oh, my God!” he cried. “I could weep.”

“Ordinarily I’d enjoy that, but bear with me,” Jewel said, taking another gulp of the strong coffee. “I told them you’d never, ever remarked on even a passing resemblance. You are a man of great integrity. I kept assuring them of that. I told them you respected Lady Copeland far too much to ever want to upset her. I explained that I’d never laid eyes on her in my entire life. The whole thing was one monumental coincidence.”

“My dear, my mother taught me to be very suspicious of monumental coincidences,” Skinner said. “This is not the end,” he predicted. “So, how can we make sense of this? Now that the scales have fallen from my eyes, I can see you’re a dead ringer for Davina. I knew there was something familiar about you, right from the beginning. I even ran through a few film stars. The young Lana Turner with blue, blue eyes. That kind of look. Soft, sexy yet challenging.”

Jewel gazed at him in astonishment. “You thought all this, Blair? Shame on you. I’ve always seen you as a good, solid father figure.” A dreadful lie.

He shook his head. “Just an objective judgment. I have eyes. Or so I believed.” He stared at her directly. “What would you advise?”

“You mean, you’re going to listen?” This all felt like a strange dream, except that she was actually hurting.

“What I’m saying is you were there the whole time. How did it all end?”

“In Lady Copeland inviting me to visit her.”

Skinner made a whistling sound through his mouth. It could have been admiration. “And Keefe?”

“What a gorgon!” Jewel said with a shudder.

“A gorgon, my dear, was one of three snake-haired sisters in Greek mythology. Of course, you didn’t have a classical education.”

“All right, make that a bastard.”

Skinner snorted. “Don’t get on the wrong side of Keefe Connellan,” he warned her. “He loves Davina. They love each other. I could almost feel sorry for Travis. At one time, his father was threatening to disinherit him. Damn, I’m talking too much. Should I ring him?”

“Who, Connellan? I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction,” Jewel said disgustedly. “But expect a phone call…”

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE to concentrate on anything for the rest of the afternoon. There seemed no rational explanation for what had happened in Blair Skinner’s office, but it all had to do with the striking resemblance between her and Lady Copeland and the fact that her father had once worked for the family. Jewel was outraged by the way Keefe Connellan had treated her. Outraged by everything about the man. Being with him was like being in an emotional and intellectual combat zone. He acted as though she was cruelly impersonating someone closely linked to Lady Copeland’s life. Someone Lady Copeland really needed or cared about. A daughter, a granddaughter who’d died? Jewel couldn’t figure it out.

More than anything, she wanted to call her mother to see if Thea could offer an explanation. A couple of times she’d even picked up the phone but knew there was little point in it. Her mother, even if she came to the phone, would be made highly anxious by any kind of questioning. Thea experienced bouts of severe anxiety, and talking to her would do no good at all. In fact, it might make a difficult situation worse. Her mother lived in a permanent state of depression, a kind of helplessness, even worthlessness, that Jewel often found overwhelming.

“Thank God you never took after your mother. I’d go crazy.”

That was what Aunt Judith always said. A single woman with a crackling persona, sometimes cyclonic, far from unattractive—she’d once had a fiancé who had simply “vanished,” a calamity at the time. It had been two weeks before the wedding and the theory was that he’d been taken by a crocodile on one of his nighttime fishing trips. Judith was thin, terribly thin, but always on the go, impatient, trying to do her best but totally unequipped by nature to deal with a sister who had “emotional problems.” In all fairness Aunt Judith had tried to cope with Thea’s physical and mental inertia, but her initial sympathy had passed quickly, mainly because she, like Jewel, was a person who was anything but stationary.

Her aunt Judith. Jewel owed her a great deal.

They’d gone to live with Judith after her father’s death. Her mother had little money, but she still retained a half-share in the family home, a marvelous spooky old colonial Queenslander some miles out of town. Jewel would never forget her first sight of it. She was an imaginative child, and it had seemed to her the house of a witch. Set in a great blossoming forest with gem-colored birds and enormous blue butterflies circling the riotous overgrown gardens, it was filled with towering palms and soaring ferns and great mango trees whose fruit littered the ground. And there was Aunt Judith confirming her childish suspicions, standing on the deep shadowy front veranda overhung by a scarlet bougainvillea that had woven itself through the length of the white wrought-iron banisters and threatened to bring down the huge pillars that supported the luminous green roof. She stood there, thin arms outstretched, a wild mane of curly dark hair cascading down her back, her clothes like clothes Jewel had never seen before. Long and loose and floating with big stars all over them, like a magician’s. She soon learned that outfit was called a caftan and Aunt Judith had painted the stars herself. After the harshness and the terra-cotta colors of her Outback home, it was like being invited into the Garden of Eden—where there were plenty of snakes. It was and remained a magical house, the place her mother and Aunt Judith had been born and where her mother now hid.

Aunt Judith had welcomed them, glad of their company. The day they arrived, the ceiling of the huge living room dripped colored streamers and bunches of balloons hanging from the lovely Chinese lanterns with painted wooden panels that shielded the lightbulbs. But Aunt Judith had quickly come to the realization that Thea wasn’t going to be any company, let alone help. To herself, her little daughter or indeed anyone else. And Judith came to realize, not without shock, that her pretty sister, who’d run off to get married when she was barely nineteen, no longer cared if she lived or died. There was only the child to be salvaged.

Me, Jewel thought.

So they’d all settled into their strange new life—Jewel confronting lots of hair-raising experiences in what was virtually a wilderness. Aunt Judith ran a small, successful business in the town. It was a sort of treasure shop selling the handiwork of the artists of the district—a dizzying array of wonderfully dressed dolls and stuffed toys to patchwork quilts, imaginative clothing, exotic cushions, watercolors, oils, pottery, handmade jewelry, clocks, so-called sacred objects, you name it. As a child Jewel had always enjoyed helping Aunt Judith in the shop. Her mother had tried, frowning with concentration over the least little thing, but she couldn’t manage it. Thea Bishop’s slump into depression had not been gradual. It had been dramatic, dating from the very day her father was killed. Before that, her mother had seemed a different person. Sweet, loving, fun to be with. Then the terrible descent into a kind of quiet madness when only glimpses of her former self showed through. Jewel had lived all her childhood with the knowledge that her mother wasn’t like other mothers, but a heartbreakingly sad person, a woman who could never be relied on to help Aunt Judith, to turn up at speech days or concerts or fetes or to fetch her from school in the afternoons. This she had accepted as testament to her mother’s grief. A thinking child who had adored her father, Jewel could remember her own terrible pain and sadness when she was told her daddy had gone to heaven. How much worse for her mother to lose her beloved husband, her life’s companion, at such a young age. The trauma held her mother in thrall. It refused to let go.

“For God’s sake, Thea, other people suffer terrible losses and go on!” Aunt Judith, voice imploring, would urge her sister to try to keep her physical and mental integrity intact. “The child needs you!”

Her mother would stare back at them, lost in some subterranean labyrinth. She had started crying the day she learned of her loss and she had never stopped, falling deeper and deeper into an inertia that was agonizing to watch. Jewel, who loved her mother and was fiercely protective of her, never put her own confused and frightened thoughts into words, even during her mother’s worst periods. Aunt Judith did that for her, coming home every night to a sister “off on another planet,” under the influence of all the pills that were prescribed by her doctors. At the age of ten, Jewel had taken charge of her mother, reversing their roles, while Aunt Judith strove to keep all three afloat. This arrangement had endured until Jewel won a full scholarship to a leading girls’ school, which she’d entered as a boarder with her aunt’s full approval and support.

“One of us has got to spring the trap,” was the way Aunt Judith had put it. Outwardly sharp and increasingly without sympathy for her sister’s “self-inflicted” condition, Aunt Judith nonetheless refused to cast Thea aside. The two of them would “survive, but it won’t be much fun!”

So many of the things Aunt Judith had said over the years stuck in Jewel’s mind. Her aunt had not been a witch, thank goodness; she was a courageous and unusual woman, with a sharp tongue. The last time Jewel had visited her mother and aunt, just over a month before, they seemed to have eased into an arrangement that worked. Aunt Judith ran the shop, ordered in all the provisions and she’d hired a handyman to halfway tame the spectacular abandoned jungle they lived in, while her mother tried to keep the house in order and have a meal ready for Judith when she arrived home from work. For some years now, Jewel had been able to help out financially, easing the burden on her aunt who, to her great credit, had never complained about all the “extras.” As well, Jewel bought her mother’s clothes and enjoyed finding unconventional outfits for her aunt. Her aunt Judith had become something of a local celebrity, just as her mother had become the local misfit, the outcast, even if word was she still looked fetching.

Jewel tried hard to organize her chaotic thoughts. The best she could do was speak to her aunt over the weekend. In the early days, Aunt Judith had spent countless hours listening to her sister’s mournful outpourings. Maybe Judith knew something that would shed some light on the bewildering situation that had confronted her. Briskly Jewel picked up the phone to book an early-morning flight to the “far north.” North of Capricorn. Another world. After that, she would ring her aunt at the shop. It was the usual routine designed by both of them to shield Thea.