Читать книгу Just Rewards - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 11

Evan picked up a thick, felt-tipped pen and in her bold, flowing handwriting wrote across the manila folder the word BRIDE. Then she pushed the folder to one side of the desk, smiling to herself as she patted it almost lovingly. She had not realized how much work she had already done on the idea of creating an entire floor devoted to brides until she had gone into her computer an hour ago and printed everything out.

After reading all of the pages written weeks ago, she knew she had a workable and comprehensive blueprint for the bridal floor, and she was pleased. She hoped that Linnet would also be pleased. More than likely she would be. But what about Paula O’Neill? Would their boss really let them create a floor catering only to brides at the expense of other departments?

The question hung there in the air for a moment. It was a tantalizing question for which she had no answer. A sense that problems were brewing, a premonition of trouble ahead still lingered in her mind. Very determinedly she tried to push this away, disinclined to ponder problems today. As Linnet would say, in her quaint way, there were better fish to fry.

Rising, Evan walked across the floor to her long work table at the other side of her office. The top of the table was covered with photographs of the house Gideon had bought in Yorkshire, and she had an overwhelming desire to look at the pictures again.

Sitting down at the table, she stared at those which she had laid out days ago. Once more she experienced the now-familiar pleasure and excitement that knowing this would be her home engendered in her, as well as a genuine longing to be there. Such feelings were paramount in her these days, and she could hardly wait to move in.

As she shuffled through photographs of the grounds and the exterior of the house, she thought of that Saturday morning last October, only three months ago, when she had first seen the house.

Gideon had driven her over to the small, picturesque village of West Tanfield, and had explained on the way that he wanted her to look at an old house with him. ‘It’s a house I’ve always liked, and it’s on the market,’ he had said. ‘My only worry is that it might be a bit ramshackle and need too much work. But we can walk through it, and see how we feel about it, can’t we?’

Evan had immediately agreed, even though she was taken by surprise that he wanted a house in Yorkshire when they both lived and worked in London, especially since they could stay with his parents or at Pennistone Royal whenever they felt the need to escape the city. But then she had suddenly realized that he wanted a place of their own, especially after the twins were born, because his apartment in London, where they were currently living together, would become rather cramped. The idea of a house in the Dales appealed to her.

On the drive over she learned that West Tanfield was halfway between Pennistone Royal, the great stately home which had been Emma’s and was now Paula’s, and Allington Hall, his parents’ family home, which had been inherited from his grandfather, Randolph Harte.

Just before they reached the village Gideon had begun to laugh softly, and had confided that many years earlier his father and Shane O’Neill had actually owned the house they were about to see. Winston and Shane were the same age, the closest of friends since childhood, and had been at Oxford together. They had apparently bought the house originally as a property investment, intending to renovate it and then sell it for a vast profit.

Instead the two young bachelors had become so attached to the house whilst working on it they had finally decided to move in themselves. It became their weekend retreat until Winston married Emily Barkstone, Gideon’s mother. Shane had continued to live at Beck House for a year, but in the end he had felt lonely without his old sparring partner, and had finally told Winston he thought they ought to put the house on the market. Winston had agreed they should sell, and the house was snapped up almost immediately. And in the ensuing years it had changed hands only once.

‘Dad told me it was on the market,’ Gideon had gone on, as he parked outside the house which stood at the bottom of a small hill at the edge of the village. ‘He said that whatever its state I shouldn’t worry too much, because he and Shane had practically rebuilt it. Anyway, come on, darling, I have the key from the estate agents. Let’s go and take a look at what might become our family home.’

He had jumped out of the car and run around to the passenger side to help her alight, and then led her to the black iron gate set in an ancient stone wall. It was quite a high wall with lichen and moss growing between the stones, and many tall trees were visible above it.

‘Beck House,’ she had read aloud when they finally stood in front of the gate. ‘I like the name, Gid.’

He had merely smiled and led her through the gate, along the path to the house. ‘It’s called Beck House because there’s a little stream, a beck, running through the grounds.’

The minute she saw it Evan was instantly enchanted, and she knew whatever its condition she wanted to live there. It was positively beautiful.

Situated in a small dell, it was surrounded by sycamore trees and huge old oaks which encircled the back. Elizabethan in origin, it was a charming house, rather picturesque, low and rambling, made of local stone. It had tall chimneys, leaded windows, and a half-timbered front façade that was Tudor in style.

In her mind’s eye Evan had always had an image of what an English country house should look like, an image instilled in her by her grandmother Glynnis Hughes. And on that cool and sunny October Saturday morning, she had seen this image in her mind’s eye take shape in reality. And when he put the big old key in the lock of the front door, her excitement knew no bounds; she couldn’t wait to step inside.

Evan knew she would never forget how she had felt when she stepped over the threshold and looked around the front hall … she filled with a wonderful sense of joy, and she felt, deep within herself, that she was going to live here with Gideon and their children … and she knew without any doubt whatsoever that they were going to be happy here. The house had a good feeling, and she was at ease, felt welcomed.

She remembered that morning so well … walking through the big empty rooms … empty of furniture, but full of atmosphere and sunlight and dust motes rising in the brilliant shimmering air. She thought now of the enormous, old-fashioned kitchen with its dark-wood ceiling beams, mullioned windows and huge stone hearth. It was a family kitchen, the core of the house, the kind every woman loved. To her relief the reception rooms on the ground floor were spacious and well proportioned, while the upstairs bedrooms were cosy and intimate.

‘It’s the perfect house for a family,’ she had told Gideon without a qualm. ‘It’s just right for us, and it has family history as well, doesn’t it?’

‘Indeed it does,’ he had replied, his eyes full of laughter as he kissed her cheek, and asked, ‘Shall we buy it then?’

‘Yes, please,’ she had answered him, and then wrinkled her nose. ‘If it isn’t too ramshackle.’

Gideon had laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s a bit ramshackle, actually, at least not the interiors. The outside woodwork needs a few coats of paint, and the stone wall needs repairing, but otherwise, I think it’s rather … a beauty. Dad said the structure was solid, the bones good, and he was correct.’

And so a decision was made in the middle of what would become their living room before they left, and three weeks later the house was theirs.

Evan picked up some of the pictures and looked through them for the umpteenth time. The interiors had all been repaired and renovated, the walls and doors painted, the floors restored and polished, the chimneys swept by the local chimneysweep, and every window had been washed by the window-cleaner.

Beck House was ready. It awaited them. And next week, whilst they were in Yorkshire getting ready for their wedding, she and Gideon and his mother Emily were going to supervise the hanging of the draperies, the laying of the carpets and rugs, and the placement of the furniture. Many of the wood pieces, which were mostly antiques, had been gifts from Emily and Paula. Both women had hunted through their attics and come up with some really wonderful finds.

Evan had sent computer photographs of the best pieces to her father in New York, and he had sent her an email almost immediately, telling her how good the furniture was, in his opinion. All were Georgian, he was certain of that, he had written, and he had told her he couldn’t wait to look them over when he arrived next week.

Evan sat back, reading his latest, very loving email, relieved and happy that their relationship was back on an even keel. Her father was now warm and caring; it was as if there had never been a rift between them.

A light knock on the door brought Evan’s head up from the photographs, but before she could utter a word, Ruth Snelling, her new secretary, poked her blonde head around the door.

‘Do you need anything, Evan?’ she asked in her breezy voice, with a bright smile. As usual, she was showing her concern for her boss, as solicitous of her as she had been from her first day of working at Harte’s.

‘I’m fine thanks, Ruth. But perhaps you could get me a bottle of water, flat not fizzy, please?’

‘No problem. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

‘Don’t go, Ruth,’ Evan exclaimed. ‘I have something for Linnet. Do you mind dropping it off in her office?’ As she spoke Evan rose, moved slowly across the floor, picked up the manila folder and held it out.

Still smiling, Ruth came and took it from her. ‘See you in a minute,’ she said as she disappeared, almost running out of the office, intent in her purpose.

Evan smiled to herself. The young woman was extremely eager to please and efficient; nothing was too much trouble for her. Things had been running smoothly since her arrival a few weeks ago, and Evan kept asking herself how she had ever managed without Ruth. I was always slightly behind the eight ball, that was the problem, Evan thought now as she sat down in her chair and glanced at her computer, needing to know if she had any emails. There were none so far this morning, which pleased her. Work had begun to pall on her lately, and all she wanted now was to be settled in the peace and quiet of Pennistone Royal.

Paula had insisted she stay there until the wedding in ten days’ time, and she was happy to do so. Evan felt at ease in that great house, where she had spent most weekends for the past year. It had been bought in the 1930s by her great-grandmother; she loved being there because she felt the presence and spirit of Emma Harte within its walls. Not only that, it was truly familiar by now and beloved by her. Everyone had made her feel at home, and Margaret, the housekeeper, never stopped fussing over her, was kind, motherly, and also protective of her these days.

Emily hadn’t minded that she wasn’t going to stay at Allington Hall, and had insisted she had completely understood why Evan would want to be in such a familiar place as Pennistone Royal. Gideon’s mother was one of the sweetest women she had ever met, and hilariously funny at times, frequently a little bit blunt, just as Linnet was.

When Evan had mentioned this to Paula she had laughed and nodded, her violet eyes twinkling. ‘They both take after Emma, I’m afraid. She was blunt, too, and Linnet, in particular, has inherited Emma’s penchant for genuine pithiness. My grandmother always said what she meant, and so does Linnet.’

‘And what you see is what you get,’ Evan had replied, and the two of them had laughed.

Winston Harte, Gideon’s father, was just as lovely as Emily. Both of them had made her feel really special from the moment she had started going out with Gideon. Like everyone else in the family, they had welcomed her graciously, and had shown their approval of her as a wife for their son. She couldn’t have wished for nicer parents-in-law; or for a more lovely sister-in-law than Natalie, now back from Australia. She was pretty, and a charming girl, and they had taken to each other immediately.

The only person who seemed somewhat aloof and in a sense rather removed was Gideon’s brother, Toby. Linnet had once confided to her that Toby was inordinately jealous of Gideon, in every possible way. ‘And his marriage to the actress faltered almost immediately, so I guess his nose is now out of joint because Gid’s got lovely you.’

Not wanting to get into a long discussion about Toby, for fear of seeming disloyal to Gideon, she had merely nodded; luckily, Linnet had suddenly realized she was late for a meeting and had rushed off, much to Evan’s relief. The subject matter had never arisen again.

Pushing herself to her feet, Evan went back to the work table where she sat down, and slowly began to look through the numerous photographs Gideon had taken of their wedding presents. Everyone had been extremely generous, had sent extraordinary gifts, which were not only costly but beautiful as well. As Gideon had said, with a chuckle, ‘We don’t have to put any of these in the attic to be forgotten. We can use everything.’ She had agreed, also laughing.

‘Hi there! How’re you doin’?’

Evan sat up with a jerk, not having heard the door open. But she stared at it now, in disbelief. Standing on the threshold, larger than life, was her twenty-three-year-old sister, Angharad, completely decked out in brilliant red, from her long cashmere muffler to her high-heeled leather boots. Not only that, she had dyed her hair, was now a platinum blonde.

Evan’s jaw dropped, so startled was she, and it took her a moment to find her voice. ‘Heavens to Betsy!’ she said at last. ‘What are you doing here? I mean, Mom told me you weren’t coming to London ‘til next week.’

‘I decided to come early. I wanted to mosey around London before heading north.’

Rising, Evan went over to her sister and kissed her cheek; her expression was warm as she went on, ‘Well, goodness, don’t stand there, come in, come in.’

Angharad did as Evan suggested, her eager and curious brown eyes glancing around the room as she sauntered across the floor. ‘This office is fab. But then you always do manage to get a nice place to work, nicer than most people.’

Ignoring this hostile jibe, Evan murmured, ‘It’s warm in here, you’d better hang your coat and scarf in the closet behind you.’ Evan padded across her office to the work table, where she began to pick up some of the photographs spread out on it, knowing it would be wiser to put them away before Angharad saw them. She was extremely nosey. But Evan was too late; her sister was heading her way. Turning away from the table, standing in front of it, Evan said, ‘Let’s sit on the sofa over there, it’s comfortable. And would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?’

Angharad shook her head, standing stock still in the middle of the room, staring at Evan intently. After a moment, she exclaimed, ‘I can’t believe your size! It’s unbelievable. You’re so huge.’ She began to laugh, the laughter sounding harsh, brittle, and not at all warm. ‘You look as if you’re about to give birth to baby elephants not twin boys.’

Wincing at these words, Evan did not respond, and in a gesture that was totally involuntary she found herself putting both of her hands on her stomach, almost protectively, as if safeguarding her boys. She hadn’t appreciated Angharad’s tone; she recognized it only too well. It held that hint of envy which the younger woman had never been able to disguise, not even as a child. It was indicative of her competitiveness, her absolute need to put Evan down whenever she could. She had always been jealous.

Taking a deep breath, Evan now said softly, ‘I suppose you’re staying at George’s hotel with Mom.’

‘Yes. And Mom’s coming over soon. To meet me here. We thought we could all have lunch together. What do you think?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Evan swiftly agreed, although she was annoyed that her mother hadn’t seen fit to phone first. She had a lot to do before the end of the day, and lunch had not been on her agenda. She wanted to fulfil her work schedule before taking maternity leave.

Stepping around her, Angharad was suddenly at the work table, looking down at the photographs of Beck House, and within seconds she had zeroed in on the pictures of the furniture.

‘This is all Georgian,’ she remarked, her voice rising, her eyes scanning everything with total absorption. Picking up one picture, she scrutinized it intently. Then turning to Evan she asked, ‘Where did this piece come from?’

‘Out of the attics at Pennistone Royal. That’s Emma Harte’s former home. Now her granddaughter, my boss Paula O’Neill, lives there. Paula gave that sideboard to Gideon and me. It was a discard, found in the attic.’

‘A discard. Who would ever do that? It’s a treasure. Have you had it evaluated?’

‘No, we haven’t. I was waiting for Dad. I sent him a set of the pictures, so he could look at them… after all, he is one of the great experts on Georgian.’

‘I know that. I work with him, don’t I? When did you send them?’

‘Oh, three or four weeks ago now,’ Evan answered, staring at Angharad.

‘I wonder why he didn’t show them to me.’ Angharad frowned, her dark eyes filled with puzzlement, her mouth settling in a tight line. She appeared to be annoyed.

‘Maybe he glanced at them and put them away without thinking,’ Evan suggested, wondering herself why their father had not shown them to the daughter who worked alongside him in his antiques gallery in Connecticut. The daughter who was actually his protégée.

‘Is this the house?’ Angharad asked, leaning over the table, peering at the other set of photographs.

‘Yes, that’s it. Beck House it’s called.’

‘Very nice. Very nice indeed,’ Angharad murmured, without turning around, her interest captured by the pictures of the various rooms, as well as the other snaps of the furniture which Emily and Paula had unearthed at Allington Hall and Pennistone Royal and given to them.

After a while, she straightened, almost angrily, and turned away from the many pictures. With a swift glance at Evan, her eyes bitter, cold, she said, ‘Well, you’ve done all right for yourself, haven’t you? But then you usually do land on your feet, Evan. For as long as I can remember. You had everyone wrapped around your little finger when you lived at home. Mom, Grandma Glynnis, and particularly Dad and Grandfather. You were always their favourite. Elayne was second. I came last.’

‘But it wasn’t like that,’ Evan said in a soft tone. ‘You weren’t last. No one was last … and I certainly didn’t come first. Dad treated the three of us alike.’

‘That’s a laugh. It’s me you’re talking to, Evan. Not Elayne. Me. I saw things very clearly. I was adopted and therefore I was not blood … I didn’t have the Hughes blood running through my veins. Not like you. Oh no. You were the precious one, the peach darling.’

‘Oh Angharad, please, don’t be like this. Elayne is adopted, too, and Dad loves you both as much as he loves me,’ Evan exclaimed.

‘If you believe that I’ll sell you a bridge. In Brooklyn.’

Evan shook her head and began to walk to her chair, suddenly feeling sick, needing to sit down. This was an old story, and seemingly one which had not lost any of its colour or drama over the years. Angharad had been repeating it for years, fully convinced that she was the lowest of the low on the family totem pole. It had always annoyed their grandmother, this attitude, this complaining, and whining. Their father had simply ignored it, while their mother had tutted and cooed and embraced Angharad closer than ever, spoiling her in a way that made Elayne, the other adopted child, feel neglected.

‘You’re his princess!’ Angharad cried. ‘The best, the smartest, the brightest, the most beautiful. You were always held up to us as the golden girl. You were the great example. We had to shine like you.’

‘You’re being really silly,’ Evan remonstrated, trying to remain calm. ‘It was never like that.’ Her protest fell on deaf ears.

‘You’re still the example, even today. But you must know that, by now. Evan the glorious one. The great-granddaughter of the famous Emma Harte. Talented and smart enough to get herself a top position at Harte’s. Without blinking an eyelash. So beautiful and bewitching she captures the Prince Charming of the Harte family. The super good-looking, super rich Gideon. And now she’s fulfilled Gideon’s desire to present his father with an heir. But golly gee whiz, not one heir. Oh no, not Evan. She’s producing two. And his father’s equally besotted with the great Evan, who’s going to present him with two instant grandsons.’

‘Please don’t do this,’ Evan pleaded, anxiety taking hold, her annoyance with her younger sister making her unexpectedly tense. It seemed to her that her anxiety was suddenly spiralling upwards into a cloud that settled around her.

‘Do what?’ Angharad asked, her voice icy.

‘Pick a fight like this. The way you did when we were little. Nobody wins in the end.’

‘I’m not doing any such thing,’ she shot back, her face flushing darkly with anger. ‘I’m telling you the truth is all. And Elayne’s as sick as I am of hearing about your damned wedding. Dad never stops talking about walking you down the aisle. Or talking about you. The bride of all brides.’

‘So why did you come?’ Evan demanded sharply, her indignation flaring. ‘If this is the way you feel, why didn’t you boycott my marriage to Gideon?’

‘Mom wanted us here.’

‘Don’t do me any favours,’ Evan shouted, losing her temper, and took a step backward, one hand groping for the arm of the comfortable typing chair. As her hand touched the arm it rolled away on its casters, and she fell, crashing heavily onto the floor. Evan cried out, and clutched her stomach.

Frightened by what had happened, Angharad remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. Her eyes were wide with shock. Swallowing hard, she asked in a whisper, ‘Are you all right? Evan? Evan? Are you all right?’

Evan moaned and brought her knees up to curl in a ball, still holding her stomach. Her face was now chalk white and she did not answer.

‘Evan, please say something,’ Angharad begged, and stepped closer to her. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I don’t know,’ Evan responded faintly. ‘Go and look for my secretary … Ruth.’

There was no need for Angharad to search for help. At that precise moment Ruth came into the office carrying a glass and a bottle of water, followed by Linnet and Marietta Hughes.

‘Oh my God!’ Marietta cried out when she saw her daughter sprawled on the floor, and unceremoniously, not heeding the others, she pushed past Ruth and Linnet, hardly looking at them.

‘What’s happened? My God, what’s happened to you, Evan?’ Marietta fell to her knees next to Evan, peering at her daughter, alarm racing through her.

‘Call my doctor. I can’t lose my babies, I can’t,’ Evan whimpered, tears sliding down her cheeks.