‘But she was pregnant, Robin, and you did nothing…’ Evan’s voice trailed off as she realized she might have sounded accusatory. She had not meant to place blame.
‘We’ve already discussed this,’ Robin responded patiently. ‘But I shall explain one more time…we broke up, I started seeing Valerie Ludden. She and I were compatible, and became seriously involved. When Glynnis told me she was expecting my child, I had already made a commitment to Valerie. However, let me say this, so you truly understand. I would not have married your grandmother even if there had been no other woman in my life. We could not have led a worthwhile life and she knew that too.’
‘I’m sorry, Robin, I am being a bit of a pest, aren’t I?’
‘That’s all right,’ he responded, a faint shadow touching his mouth. ‘I understand your need to know everything.’
‘I wonder why Glynnis wouldn’t allow you to help her financially?’
‘Pride, for the most part, so I believe.’
‘She let Emma Harte come to her rescue, though.’
‘She did. My mother loved Glynnis like a daughter and she knew this, and she knew how much my mother sympathized with her. When my mother was a young girl she had been in a similar predicament, pregnant by a man who wouldn’t marry her, and obviously there was a great deal of empathy there.’
‘Thanks for talking about this, Robin. I really needed to know exactly what went on between you and my grandmother all those years ago.’
‘Sexual passion. I was also in love with her; it just wasn’t enough for a steady, stable life.’ He smiled at her then, his face softening with sudden tenderness, his faded blue eyes benign, loving.
Evan smiled back at him, reached out and took hold of his long, slender hand, squeezed it in hers. The two of them were seated on the large sofa in the library at Lackland Priory, Robin’s house in Yorkshire, meeting for the first time in several weeks. They were glad to be together again, to have this chance to get to know each other better.
The old man and the young woman. Related by blood, but unknown to each other, total strangers, until recently. The grandfather. The granddaughter. Two people who had only just discovered the other’s existence, who wanted to be friends, to understand each other, to find a certain kind of closeness, even the intimacy of family, if that was possible. The younger striving to comprehend the past and a disastrous long-ago relationship; the elder hoping that the past and his actions then would not damage him too badly in her eyes today, in the present.
The silence in this harmonious and peaceful room was broken by the sudden shrilling of the telephone, startling them both. Almost instantly the ringing stopped; the phone had been answered elsewhere in the house by a staff member.
A moment later the butler appeared in the doorway. ‘Excuse me, sir, Dr Harvey’s on the phone. He would like a word with you.’
‘Thank you, Bolton,’ Robin answered, and, excusing himself to Evan, he rose, striding over to the desk. Sitting down, he picked up the receiver. ‘Good morning, James.’
Evan also rose and walked across to the French windows which opened onto the terrace of the ancient manor house. She stepped outside, closing the doors behind her, and took several deep breaths. The air was always clean and fresh up here in the Dales. It was a glorious morning in early August, the sky azure blue and without cloud: a sunny, golden day filled with pristine light, just as it had been yesterday and the day before. She had grown to love this crystalline light which she had discovered was so prevalent and unique to the north of England.
Now she sat down on the stone bench and stared out across the wide green lawns that splayed out from the house and were bordered by flower beds filled with colourful perennials. Her eyes finally came to rest on the copse of trees which stood slightly away from the house, to the right of the lawns. Beyond their opulent, leafy bowers she could see the rim of the moors, a dark smudge against the pale, blue-tinted horizon. It was such a beautiful spot, this long valley in the middle of the Dales where Lackland Priory had stood for centuries. Pennistone Royal was not far away and in the past few months she had spent a lot of time in this particular area of Yorkshire which was softer and much more lush than the surrounding higher land. Up there, on the high-flung moors, it was grim and bleak for most of the year, neither pretty nor welcoming. She knew Linnet would not agree; she thought the soaring fells were glorious in their stark and solitary splendour.
‘I love those moors the same way Emma Harte loved them,’ Linnet had once explained to her. ‘My great-grandmother was a child of the moors, and she could never stay away from them for very long. I’m just like her. I yearn for them, as she did.’
Emma Harte.
Evan turned the name over in her mind. Dead though she had been for thirty years, Emma still lived on, her spirit and her presence almost as potent as it had been when she was alive. Emma Harte was her great-grandmother, too, although she had not known this when she had come to England in January. Just eight months ago now; how her life had changed since then. She was a Harte. And had been accepted by this unique family, made to feel one of them. She was still trying to come to grips with recent developments.
Almost immediately her thoughts swung to Robin Ainsley, favourite son of the legendary Emma: her father’s biological father, her biological grandfather; a man she had met only a few weeks ago, but whom she had quickly grown to like and knew she could easily come to love. There was something endearing about Robin, even vulnerable, and she wanted to nurture and protect him. At eighty he seemed so alone and lonely in old age.
Robin Ainsley had abandoned her grandmother during the Second World War, but he had had his reasons, and it was over half a century ago now. And if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that her grandmother had probably had a much better and certainly a more tranquil life without Robin. After all, they had been forever at each other’s throats, according to him. And Gran had a loving husband in Richard Hughes, who had married her some months before her baby, Owen, was born. Richard had brought up Owen as his son. He had been a good father; no man had ever had a better one, her father said that all the time.
Her father’s face insinuated itself into her mind’s eye, and she felt herself tensing. Yet again she wondered how to tell him what she had so recently found out? Owen had idolized Richard Hughes…
‘I’m so sorry to have left you alone,’ Robin murmured from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I’m afraid Dr Harvey can go on a bit at times.’
Evan jumped up and swung to face him. ‘You’re all right, aren’t you? You’re not ill?’ she asked. Her voice echoed with sudden concern, and her eyes were anxious.
‘I’m perfectly fine, my dear. In very good health, I do assure you. Dr Harvey was merely ringing up to confirm our dinner engagement tomorrow evening.’ As he finished speaking Robin stepped onto the terrace. ‘Let’s stay out here for a while, enjoy Mother Nature. It’s such a grand morning.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Evan agreed.
They sat down on the bench, and Robin went on, after a moment, ‘You said earlier that you needed to talk to me about several things, but so far we’ve only discussed my relationship with your grandmother. What else do you have on your mind?’
‘My father.’
‘Ah yes, Owen. Have you told him about me? Does he know anything about…Emma’s well-kept secret?’
‘No.’
‘Did you lose your nerve, Evan? Surely not. Not you.’
‘No, not really. But I did decide it might be better to wait until he arrives in London later this month.’
‘Don’t you think you ought to give him an inkling about what’s happened before he comes? About me, I mean? It would prepare him for what will no doubt be a bit of a shock.’
‘It did cross my mind,’ Evan responded, biting her lip, looking worried. ‘But then I decided it would be smarter to tell him face to face.’
Robin frowned, stared ahead, his light-coloured eyes fixed on the distant horizon. After a
moment, he began to speak slowly, thoughtfully. ‘He’s not going to like what he hears. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were very angry. After all, some of his illusions are going to be shattered. He’ll certainly be angry with me about the past.’
‘And maybe he’ll also be angry with his mother for not being truthful,’ Evan suggested succinctly. ‘Gran lied to him.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, my dear. Glynnis did the right thing. It was wiser not to tell him I was his father. Richard was married to Glynnis for some months before Owen’s birth, and whilst he may not have made her pregnant, he loved that child as his own. Richard’s behaviour was impeccable, and I think Glynnis did what she thought was best, you know.’
‘That’s true, but…’ She let her sentence go unfinished.
‘But what?’
‘My father’s not easy, Robin.’
A look of comprehension swept across his face and he exclaimed, ‘I remember something, Evan. When Paula brought you here for the first time you told us you thought your father had come across some papers after Glynnis died.’
‘I did. But he never actually said he found anything. It was just a feeling I had that sprang from his sudden, rather odd attitude towards the Harte family.’
‘Oh. What kind of attitude?’ Robin asked, his curiosity aroused.
‘He became a bit…well, down on them. I guess that’s the best way of describing it. He wasn’t happy about my job at Harte’s, and that was mystifying to me because he had agreed I should visit London to seek out Emma Harte…just as Gran had suggested on her deathbed.’
Robin ventured, ‘I think he stumbled on a diary, or letters, or other items from long ago, which Glynnis had perhaps forgotten about.’
‘That could be so,’ she agreed. ‘And what he found might have turned him off the Hartes. Is that what you’re suggesting?’
‘Yes, it is.’ There was a pause. ‘I wonder if it might not be wiser to let sleeping dogs lie, my dear? Why tell your father anything at all? He doesn’t need to know the truth about his paternity. Perhaps it would be more prudent to let it remain the secret it’s always been. Why not let him continue to think Richard Hughes was his biological father?’
‘That makes sense,’ Evan exclaimed, and instantly felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her chest.
Almost as if he instinctively knew what she was feeling, Robin put his arm around her, held her close to him. ‘We know the truth, and that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ was all she said, and she leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes, filled with relief.
They did not speak for a short while, lost as they were in their own thoughts. Evan was thinking about her boyfriend Gideon Harte, wondering how she would explain her sudden change of heart, yet knowing that whatever she decided to do he would back her to the hilt, would be on her side. Gideon had an understanding heart, and he was sensitive to her feelings about her father. In fact, he himself had suggested, only the other day, that maybe she would be better off not telling her father he was a Harte. She had been ambivalent; Gideon had then said he trusted her judgement and whatever she did ultimately would be all right by him.
As for Robin, his thoughts were centred on Evan Hughes. How glad he was that this young woman had come into his life. Very late in his life, that was true, but at least he had been fortunate to become aware of her existence. He had grown to know her over the past few weeks, and he liked what he had learned about her. Once before he had held her close like this, when she had comforted him, and he was glad to hold her again, to silently bond with her, and to comfort her.
The day she had arrived with Paula to meet him for the first time he had feasted his rheumy old eyes on her lovely face. He had noticed that she looked like his twin, Elizabeth, when she had been twenty-seven, as Evan was now. Evan. His granddaughter. His only grandchild. His blood flowed through her veins, and one day, if she married and had children, it would flow in their veins…she ensured the continuation of his bloodline, his genes. It had always been important to him, the flowering of a family, but before the arrival of Evan this had not seemed probable.
Instantly, Jonathan sprang into his mind and a chill settled over him. He could only pray that his son would never harm Evan. Certainly Robin had made absolutely sure that Jonathan really did understand that his inheritance was intact, and not jeopardized by the advent of Evan. In fact, he had gone to extraordinary lengths to prove this to his son, taking steps that involved both their solicitors and the execution of various documents, which were binding.
On the other hand, Jonathan was unpredictable. For a long time now he had considered his only child a loose cannon and, even worse, a sociopath. There was no way of knowing what he might do. Or when.
‘Are you all right?’ Evan asked, feeling Robin’s sudden tension.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ the old man answered, forcing a smile. ‘But I must admit I do feel the cold even on a sunny day like this. Let’s go inside, Evan. I have something I wish to show you.’
Together they walked into the library, and Robin murmured, ‘Do sit down on the sofa, I won’t be a moment.’
She did as he said while he hurried to the desk. Her eyes followed him. What a fine-looking man he was; tall, erect, and handsome in old age, and today he was much more robust and full of vigour. This pleased her. She had only just found him, and he was already eighty…the thought of losing him dismayed her.
A moment later Robin was sitting down next to her and handing her a photograph, a snapshot taken a long time ago. Staring down at it she exclaimed, ‘It’s of you and my grandmother. My goodness, what a gorgeous couple you were! So good-looking.’
He laughed in delight at her compliment. ‘We did look wonderful together, you know, everyone remarked on that. As you can see, I’m wearing my RAF uniform and your grandmother is the height of fashion for the times, very much the glamour girl, as always. Well, anyway, it’s for you, Evan.’
‘Oh Robin, how lovely of you. But are you sure you want to part with it? You’ve had it for such a long time.’
‘Who better to give it to than–our granddaughter. I want you to have this picture of the two of us when we were young and in love and before things had gone so horribly wrong between us.’
She nodded, touched his arm affectionately. ‘I shall treasure it always.’
His blue eyes lit up and he smiled at her. ‘Now, will you take pity on an old man and stay for lunch?’
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
But as she walked to the dining room with Robin, Evan knew there was nothing but trouble in store. Her intuition told her that her father would be difficult, and that the situation would more than likely explode.
CHAPTER TWO
Tessa Fairley Longden stood on the terrace, watching her small daughter bustling around like the proverbial mother hen, placing Daisy her porcelain baby doll, Teddy the bear, and Reggi the rag doll in the chairs she and Adele had just arranged around the small tea-table.
Once the child was satisfied she looked up at her mother, and said, ‘Daisy is keeping Teddy company and I’ll sit next to my Reggi.’
‘That’s a good idea, Adele. I’m sure they’ll be happy wherever you’ve put them,’ Tessa answered, smiling down at the three-year-old, who was looking up at her questioningly.
As she spoke Tessa made a mental note to wrest the rag doll out of her daughter’s clutches as soon as possible. It was dirty and bedraggled, quite disgusting looking really, but the child loved it so much, clung to it, never let it out of her sight. Tessa had long realized it was like a security blanket to Adele, but it did need washing, by hand, of course, so that it would not fall apart. Tonight, she thought, I’ll wash it tonight if I can get it away from her.
She was enjoying being here in Yorkshire with Adele, her first bit of peace since leaving her husband, Mark Longden.
Bending down, Tessa smoothed her hand over her child’s silky, silvery-blonde hair, and
murmured, ‘I’ll be in the library working, sweetheart, if you need me.’
Adele nodded, and said in a solemn voice, ‘At your computer, Mumma.’
‘That’s right.’ Tessa’s heart overflowed with love for this extraordinarily beautiful child, so precious to her, the one person she loved the most in this world. Leaning over her, she kissed the top of her head, lingering for a moment longer on the terrace; but after a second or two she finally drew herself up, took a deep breath and walked briskly into the library, sitting down at the table she had pulled over to the French windows.
It was Elvira’s day off, and the nanny had gone into Leeds, leaving Adele in her care. Tessa had toyed with the idea of taking Adele with her to the Harrogate store, but in the end she had changed her mind, had decided not to go after all. It was such a beautiful morning it seemed almost criminal to keep the child cooped up in an office; she could just as easily work here at Pennistone Royal on the plans for remodelling the Harrogate store, while Adele enjoyed the sunshine and the fresh air, playing outdoors on the long terrace at the back of the house.
Tessa had decided long ago that the library was the ideal place for her to work when she was here at Pennistone Royal. It was a long, spacious, airy room with a high-flung ceiling and walls panelled in light-coloured pine. Tranquil, a peaceful spot, it was well insulated with its many floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound books.
Earlier this morning she had set herself up at the far end of the library, near the French windows. These opened onto the terrace where Adele could play happily until lunchtime. Tessa had pulled the library table over to the glass doors, creating a makeshift desk out of it. Adele was now in her direct line of vision; she could even hear the child chattering away to the teddy bear. Apart from being able to keep an eye on her daughter, she was readily available if the child needed her for any reason.
Tessa worked steadily at her computer for the next twenty minutes, glancing up from time to time, smiling to herself, thinking of how well Adele played alone, treating her dolls and the bear like real playmates, talking to them in the most natural way, as if they were alive.