Unexpected Blessings

He laughed a lot and she liked that. She couldn’t bear glum people who sounded like the voices of doom with their dire predictions of impending disasters and gloomy outlook. He was usually in top form, cheerful, optimistic, raring to go, and ready to take a chance on life, except when it came to wedded bliss, of course. That was verboten even as a subject, not open for discussion at all.

Dusty liked being one of the boyos, as he called his male friends, who were numerous and varied … actors, writers, politicians, journalists, ‘And,’ as he often said, ‘nobodies who I absolutely adore.’ He fancied himself as Jack the Lad – Jack the Bad Lad. He enjoyed carousing and creating a stir, constantly referred to himself as a rabble-rouser. However, she had come to understand in the three months she had known him that much of this was a bit of an act. In point of fact, he drank very little, hardly anything at all, mostly nursed a Stolichnaya over ice all night, simply made a big noise about his consumption of booze. She was well aware that the men in the Harte family drank much more than Dusty. But then he needed a very steady hand the next morning in order to do his work. His style of painting was Classical Realism, and notable art critics around the world had hailed him right from the beginning of his career as the new Pietro Annigoni, proclaiming that he had inherited the mantle of the famous Italian painter who had died in 1988. They called Dusty a genius, and with the same awe and reverence they had called Annigoni a genius. Dusty’s paintings were classical in style, very much in the manner of the great artists of the Renaissance, with precise attention to detail in the subject matter and background, whether these were interiors or exteriors. His portraits of the famous, and his paintings of landscapes and seascapes, were so detailed, his use of colour so breathtakingly beautiful, people simply stood and gazed at them mesmerized, unable to tear their eyes away.

Anybody who painted as precisely as he did could hardly afford to booze it up; she had said that to him once and he had grinned and winked at her. She felt the same way about his so-called rabble-rousing; even this was merely a form of jovial boisterousness, with much laughter, loud voices, arm-punching, back-slapping. Much ado about nothing, something which was totally innocuous but which the press played up. As he hoped they would. He loved his reputation as a wild hard-drinking hell-raiser, and did much to foster this characterization of himself. Especially in the papers.

When she had first understood his reputation was something of a myth she had burst out laughing. She had been walking through Harte’s with Linnet when the truth dawned on her, and she had been unable to suppress her hilarity. Her cousin had stared at her and shaken her head, and said pithily, ‘People who burst into gales of laughter for no apparent reason get taken away in straitjackets. Especially when they’re in the middle of a renowned and very posh emporium making a hullabaloo. Drawing attention to themselves.’

‘I’m sorry, Linnet,’ she had spluttered, ‘but I can’t help it. I’ve suddenly realized my boyfriend is a bit of a phoney.’

This comment had instantly gained Linnet’s undivided attention, and she had cried, ‘Oh get rid of him. Immediately. We don’t need anybody who’s not true blue around here. Anyway, he’d get clobbered by the lads.’

‘What lads?’

‘Julian, Gideon, Toby, and even young Desmond. They’d gang up on him.’

‘That’s true.’

‘By the way, when you say boyfriend are you referring to the VFP?’

‘VFP? What’s that?’

‘Very Famous Person. You told me you were seeing someone very famous but you never confided who he is.’

‘Russell Rhodes.’

‘Dusty Rhodes? The painter?’ Linnet’s eyes had widened.

She had simply nodded in response but was pleased by Linnet’s surprised reaction.

‘He looks rather dishy, India.’

‘He is, but complex.’

‘Aren’t they all,’ Linnet had responded, grinning at her.

She had laughed and answered, ‘But at least he’s never been married, so there’s no ex, or children to contend with. In fact he’d been unattached for quite a while before he met me.’

‘You know, Dad loves his work, in fact we all do. He’s always wanted Dusty Rhodes to paint Paula, but Mummy says she’s too busy to sit all those hours for an artist. I wish she would, though, and so does Daddy.’

‘I agree. Dusty’s the perfect person to paint your mother. He could do a wonderful medieval portrait of her.’

Linnet had then asked her a lot of questions about Dusty as they had continued their walk through the store; she had answered some but had remained silent about others. She had discovered she didn’t want to reveal too much about him or their relationship, at least not just yet. The real problem with Dusty was his attitude to her family. Without ever meeting any of them he had made a sudden snap decision and categorized them as aristos. ‘Too posh. Snobs. Hoity-toity, idle rich folks,’ was the way he described them. None of this was true, and she had tried to explain this, explain about her great-grandmother’s impoverished beginnings, but he had swept her words away and changed the subject in his usual imperious manner.

At first she had thought he suffered from an inferiority complex about his own bleak and desolate background, growing up as a poor boy in the back streets of Leeds. Certainly he was always making reference to this. But she had quickly come to accept that he didn’t have an inferiority complex at all – far from it, in fact. He was one of the most self-confident and self-possessed people she had ever met, in command of everything, exuding charm and displaying the most perfect manners when he wanted to.

Yet, nevertheless, Dusty believed her father would look down on him, wouldn’t approve of him, would condemn their relationship out of hand. And so far she hadn’t been able to convince him otherwise. But she would keep trying. And she knew her father and mother would like him, quite aside from the fact that they both admired his paintings, without even knowing she was involved with Dusty.

I have to give him time, she told herself, and slowed down as she came to the village. Within minutes she was leaving the small main street behind and heading for the road which would take her directly to the front gates of Pennistone Royal.

Her mind focused on Tessa and the situation she was likely to come across when she arrived. She had purposely not thought about it on the drive over from Dusty’s house, but now she had to concentrate on the matter at hand. She had no idea what she would have to face. She prayed she would find Adele with her mother and not still lost. Or abducted. Prayed that tragedy did not lurk in the shadows.

Jonathan Ainsley crept into her mind, and she grimaced. From what she had learned lately, it appeared that Mark Longden was under his influence. How terrible that such a thing had happened. Could Jonathan be pulling the strings, was he the mastermind behind Adele’s abduction? If that was what it was. She had no answers for herself.

CHAPTER FOUR

Linnet sat with Tessa in the upstairs parlour at Pennistone Royal, talking to her quietly, trying to reassure her that Adele was all right, that she would soon be home, silently praying that she was correct in this assertion, and that her assurances would not prove to be meaningless.

Evan was with them, seated near the lovely oriel window, but she was an observer rather than a participant at this moment, knowing it was best to let Linnet handle everything. Tessa could be touchy, even a little caustic, at the best of times, and today was the worst.

‘Mark would never do anything to upset or hurt Adele,’ Linnet said, touching her sister’s hand, then taking it in hers. ‘He does adore her, you know, that’s always been most apparent.’

‘Yes,’ Tessa responded, ‘but what if it’s not Mark who has her? Perhaps Desmond was right when he suggested it might well be a kidnapping for ransom. She could easily be with strangers, and therefore in danger.’

‘I really do doubt that,’ Linnet answered in a stronger tone, wishing her younger brother had not voiced this opinion. It was a possibility but he would have been wiser to have kept it to himself. ‘And you must trust Jack Figg. He’s the best and the smartest private investigator there is, Mummy’s said that for years and she’s always relied on him in a crisis. And don’t forget, he was head of Harte’s security for years.’

‘But he’s been retired for some time now,’ Tessa pointed out, a sudden shrillness in her voice.

‘Semi-retired, to be exact. He still works full time for those who need him, such as former clients he’s remained close to, like us. Anyway, you know very well our mother put him on a retainer and used him to do that in-depth check on Mark Longden several weeks ago. She filled us in before she went off to New York.’

‘Yes –’ Tessa’s voice suddenly broke and tears welled in her eyes again. She wiped them quickly with a tissue and continued shakily, ‘I’m so worried about Adele I can hardly bear it. She’s such a little girl and she must be so scared, even if she is with her father. I mean, being snatched off the terrace in such an awful way will have frightened her. I feel so helpless, I don’t know what to do.’

‘Listen to me,’ Linnet said in her firmest, most confident voice, ‘we don’t know how she was taken, whether it was awful or not. Actually, I’m sure it wasn’t.’ Hoping to calm Tessa, she went on talking. ‘I’m sure Mark made it seem like a game to Adele, you know, waving to her, putting his finger to his lips so she would be quiet, smiling at her, beckoning. Yes, I’m quite certain that’s what he did. It’s obvious he wouldn’t want to alarm her, frighten her. He knew he mustn’t upset her since he was taking her without your permission. She would’ve made quite a racket, I think, if he’d just rushed in and grabbed her.’

‘You seem so certain it is Mark. Like me.’ Tessa gave Linnet a hard stare and her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I just hope to God we’re right. What is Jack Figg actually doing right now?’

‘He’s working in the library, on the phone a lot, talking to people, mostly his operatives, I believe. I never question his methods and neither should you. Let it suffice for me to say that he has contacts everywhere in the world and in all walks of life. If anybody can find Adele, it’s Jack, believe me it is.’

Glancing across at Evan, Tessa said slowly, ‘You had lunch with Uncle Robin at Lackland Priory today. Did he mention Jonathan Ainsley? Where he was living these days?’

Evan tensed. Tessa had sounded almost accusatory, but she kept her voice level as she answered calmly, ‘No, he didn’t mention Jonathan. I’m sorry, Tessa, I don’t know anything about him. But he’s more than likely out of the country. In Hong Kong. Robin would have told me if Jonathan were in England … you see he would have warned me. I know Robin worries a lot about Jonathan doing me harm out of spite.’

‘And all of us, too, for that matter!’ Linnet exclaimed, her green eyes flashing. ‘He’s had it in for Mummy and her offspring for ages. In fact, I think he has it in for every one of the Hartes. He’d like to mow us all down with a machine gun and be rid of us once and for all. And all because he feels cheated by Emma Harte. He’s a nasty piece of work, but Mums says he always was.’

‘That’s true,’ Tessa agreed. ‘And to think Mark let himself fall into his clutches.’ Tessa sat back on the sofa, twisting the tissue in her hands, her face ringed with misery. At this precise moment she fervently wished she had never married Mark Longden. All he had ever done really was to create a ton of misery for her, not to mention the verbal and physical abuse he had meted out lately. Now he had stolen their child.

Suddenly the door flew open and India came into the upstairs parlour almost at a run. ‘Hi, everybody,’ she said and then made a bee-line for her cousin Tessa; she knelt down next to her and took hold of her hand. ‘I’m so sorry this happened,’ India murmured, looking at Tessa intently, wanting to convey her enormous sympathy and concern. Her face was full of compassion, her eyes warm and loving. ‘I’m here for you, whatever you need. You only have to ask.’

Tessa nodded, attempted a smile. It faltered instantly, but she managed to say, ‘Thanks, India, I’m glad you’re here.’

Watching India commiserate with Tessa, Evan couldn’t help thinking how very much alike they looked, like sisters actually, as if turned out from the same mould. It was apparent they were closely related; both had silver-gilt hair and silvery-grey luminous eyes, pale complexions and delicately-wrought faces. They were lovely looking in a soft, feminine way, and she knew their striking resemblance to each other came from their genes, their shared Fairley bloodline.

Evan had also heard the family legend that their great-great-grandmother Adele Fairley had been a famous beauty – stunning, elegant, aristocratic, and possibly slightly mad. And that it was from her that these two had inherited their unique silver-blonde hair and extraordinary eyes, as well as their angelic faces. Even little Adele had the same looks. She was part Fairley, and to Evan she did not appear to be anything at all like a Harte. The thought of the missing child made her shrivel inside, and she felt a sudden chill sweep over her. Involuntarily, she shivered. What if Adele were in some kind of danger? Everyone had mentioned Mark, or a kidnapper looking for money, but hadn’t anyone thought of a paedophile?

Immediately Evan shoved that thought aside, it was too awful to contemplate. She glanced across at Linnet, who was a true Harte with her halo of red hair, green eyes and dynamic personality. Gideon had the same Harte colouring and upbeat attitude. Evan couldn’t help but admire Linnet this afternoon. She had taken charge in a quiet but confident way and was handling everything with true diplomacy and efficiency. Not only did she convey great positiveness, she had managed somehow to keep Tessa calm. Evan knew how much the latter was suffering; furthermore, Tessa was at a loss, had no idea what to do, which was so unlike her.

Linnet’s cell phone began to ring and she got up, walked over to one of the tall windows, stood talking for a moment, and Evan knew it was Julian on the other end. Linnet had asked her to be a bridesmaid at her marriage to Julian in the winter, and she had been thrilled to accept. Gideon was to be best man and India the other bridesmaid.

Her eyes wandered around the upstairs parlour … Linnet had once explained to her that this had been Emma Harte’s favourite room, and she understood the reasons why. It was lovely, gracious, charming, and spacious, with a high ceiling and tall leaded windows. There was a carved mantel over the fireplace and the walls were a sunny daffodil colour. Two large comfortable sofas were covered in a floral chintz fabric vibrant with scarlet and blues, greens and pinks on a pale yellow background. The Aubusson rug underfoot was obviously rare, a valuable antique, as were the pieces of furniture made of mellow, ripe woods. Linnet had also explained that over the years the room had never changed in its decor; it was simply refurbished with the same fabrics and colours for a sense of continuity and as a reflection of Emma’s great taste.

Evan loved art and she was particularly interested in English landscapes, and for a moment her gaze rested on the museum-quality Turner hanging on a side wall, then it swung to the oil painting above the mantelpiece. This was of Paul McGill, the love of Emma’s life; he was wearing an army officer’s uniform and it had apparently been painted in the First World War. What a handsome man he was, she thought. No wonder Emma had succumbed to his charms.

‘Evan, let’s go down to the kitchen and rustle up a pot of tea,’ Linnet said. ‘And Margaret will make us some smoked salmon sandwiches. I’m starved. I didn’t have lunch.’

Evan sat up with a start, brought out of her reverie by Linnet’s voice. ‘Okay!’ she answered at once, jumping up, moving across the floor swiftly, hating to be caught offguard in this way.

‘What about you, Tessa?’ Linnet asked.

‘I couldn’t eat a thing! Food would choke me!’ she cried, shaking her head almost violently.

‘India? Do you want something, darling?’ Linnet’s auburn brow lifted questioningly.

Her cousin nodded. ‘Tea with lemon would be nice, and so would a smoked salmon sandwich. Thanks.’

‘I thought you’d had lunch,’ Linnet murmured, and then stopped short. ‘Oh, but you never finished it, did you? Instead you drove here.’ Linnet stared hard at India but her face was quite expressionless.

‘That’s correct,’ India responded evenly, her own face as blank as her cousin’s. But she couldn’t help wondering if Linnet had guessed she had been with Dusty at lunchtime. No matter; Linnet was always on her side whatever she did.

Jack Figg was seated at the large Georgian desk in the panelled library, his eyes on the papers spread out in front of him.

After a moment he lifted his eyes and looked across at Linnet, who was seated on the sofa with Tessa. She was grim and intent, but holding her own as he knew she would. It was Tessa he was worried about.

She looked as though she would pass out at any moment; her face was stark, chalky, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed from weeping. He fully understood how anguished and worried she was, and his heart went out to her. Apart from being a kind and compassionate man, he had once lost a child to death and his grief had been searing, a sorrow he could not endure. Now he prayed that Adele was alive. Instinctively he felt that she was, and he wanted more than anything else to trust in those instincts. God damn it, she has to be alive, he thought, willing it to be so.

Seated on the other sofa near the fireplace were India Standish, whom he had known since she was a child, and Evan Hughes, the newcomer to the family, recently-discovered, and another great-granddaughter of Emma. He could see the concern on their faces as well, and he knew that all of these four young women had been waiting for hours to get an update on the situation from him.

So had young Emsie and Desmond, who had rushed after him when he had traversed the estate with Wiggs and Joe earlier. They were now sitting on the upholstered library fender, obviously being extremely careful about opening their mouths. He had warned them that if they wanted to stay in the library they had to remain totally quiet. ‘Not one word,’ he had cautioned and they had nodded their agreement.

Without preamble he began to speak, addressing himself to Linnet and Tessa who sat together. ‘It’s turning four-thirty, and it’s just over five and a half hours since Adele disappeared.’ He paused, his eyes sweeping over them, then he went on: ‘I’m afraid I don’t know where she is. But I do know where she isn’t, and that’s here at Pennistone Royal. She’s not in the fields, the meadows, the woods or the gardens, which have all been thoroughly scoured. And I’ve even had Wiggs drag the pond. Fortunately, all he found were weeds. Nor has Adele been seen in Pennistone Royal village, although two or three people did notice a black Mercedes driving through at high speed around lunchtime. That’s obviously the same car which was seen here in the drive by Wiggs and the stable lads.’

‘What about Mark? What about Mark?’ Tessa cried excitedly, repeating herself, and clutching the rag doll to her, as she had done on and off during the day. ‘Have you tried to find him?’

‘I have indeed,’ Jack responded softly. ‘I spoke to his secretary who told me he had taken a few days off –’

‘He came up here to grab Adele!’ Tessa interrupted, her voice rising. ‘I bet anything he’s in Yorkshire. With Jonathan Ainsley. They’re in this together.’ She looked agitated, and her eyes flared.

‘He could be up here, of course,’ Jack said, ‘but he’s certainly not with Jonathan Ainsley. I’ve had one of my people check Jonathan’s whereabouts and he’s in Hong Kong at this very moment. And he’s been there for several weeks.’

‘Perhaps Mark took Adele back to London with him, if he grabbed her,’ Linnet ventured, giving Jack a long, hard stare.

‘He’s not in his apartment nor is he at the house in Hampstead. Both places have been checked out.’

‘But the house is locked up –’ Tessa began, and then her voice faltered when she saw the irritated expression flashing across Jack’s face.

‘Yes, the house is locked up, Tessa, and so is Mark’s apartment. But we do have our ways of checking things out.’

‘I understand,’ she said meekly, leaning back against the sofa, ignoring Linnet who had poked her in the ribs a moment ago, warning her to shut up, she had no doubt.

‘I’ve phoned Mark’s mother in Gloucestershire,’ Jack continued. ‘She was not at home, but was expected early this evening, according to someone called Dory.’

‘Dory’s the housekeeper,’ Tessa volunteered. She cleared her throat and went on somewhat tentatively, ‘Mrs Longden’s a bit of a doting mother, but she’s a decent woman. If Mark took Adele to her home she would insist he brought her back to me at once.’

‘If his mother knew he had Adele without your permission,’ Jack pointed out. ‘Mark might not tell her. Anyway, I think that in all probability he’s somewhere in Yorkshire. We must find him.’

‘But how?’ India asked, frowning. ‘It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, isn’t it?’

‘Only too true,’ Jack agreed. ‘It’s not going to be easy, even if we go to the police. We may have to do that, and soon. I’ve spoken at length to Gideon, I told him we might need to blast the news of Adele’s abduction all over the media, starting with the Harte television network and the Harte newspapers. Gideon agrees with me. But we’re not going to do that just yet. Before we go to those lengths, or go to the police, I want to give Mark a chance to bring Adele home to you, Tessa. Tonight, if that’s at all possible.’

‘But what if it’s not Mark who grabbed her?’ Tessa asked, sounding suddenly tremulous again. ‘What if it’s a kidnapping?’

‘We’d have had a ransom note or some kind of communication from the kidnappers before now if that were the case,’ Jack explained. ‘By the way, Tessa, at my request Gideon spoke to Toby in Los Angeles this afternoon. Toby hasn’t been trying to get hold of you today. So I’m positive it was Mark calling you this morning in an effort to distract you while he took Adele. Or it was someone else, someone who was helping him, working with him.’

‘I didn’t really recognize the voice,’ Tessa replied. ‘Although it did sound familiar, I suppose that’s why I thought it must be Toby.’

Leaning forward in the chair, his arms resting on the desk, Jack was thoughtful for a moment before saying, ‘In a short while I shall phone Mark’s mother, explain what’s happened. Hopefully she will cooperate, if she knows anything, that is. But if we don’t have anything new or know where Mark is by about six-thirty, then I’ll have no alternative but to inform the North Yorkshire police. I will also call Gideon to tell him to go ahead and issue a news bulletin about Adele’s disappearance. I can’t leave it much longer than that, I simply can’t take that chance.’

Tessa pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled her sobs.

Linnet exclaimed, ‘Once the Harte media companies go public here it will be on American television. Mummy will have to be told before she hears it from another source.’

Jack gave Linnet a fleeting smile. ‘I’ll be calling her after I’ve been in touch with the police, if that becomes necessary. You and Tessa can speak to her as well. But the main thing now is to find out whether or not Mrs Longden knows anything.’ Jack leaned back in the chair trying to relax his tense muscles, and glanced across at the grandfather clock as he did.

There was a sudden silence in the room. No one spoke. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts.

Tessa’s mind was in a turmoil, her senses swimming. It was almost six and she had no idea where her child was, and she was more frantic than ever. She felt nauseous, and making a snap decision she jumped up. ‘I need some air!’ she cried to the room at large.

Immediately India pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to Tessa, took hold of her arm. ‘Come on, darling, let’s go for some fresh air. After ten minutes outside you’ll feel much better.’

‘I think I will,’ Tessa mumbled, pushing down the sickly feeling.

After Tessa and India had left the library, Evan cleared her throat and said to Jack, ‘I didn’t want to bring this up in front of Tessa, but what if it’s neither Mark nor kidnappers but a paedophile?’

A long sigh escaped Jack and then he said, ‘That had crossed my mind.’ At this moment his mobile began to ring and he turned it on. ‘Figg here,’ he said, pressing it to his ear. Standing up, he walked over to the windows, and stood listening to his caller, eventually murmured his thanks and clicked off. Walking back to the desk, he told them, ‘That was one of my operatives who’s been checking every hotel in the area. Mark Longden was definitely in Yorkshire three nights ago. He stayed at the Queen’s Hotel in Leeds. And last night he was at the Swan in Harrogate. However, he has checked out of both places. So far my chap hasn’t found him registered anywhere else. Not yet.’

‘Perhaps he’s staying at a private home,’ Linnet said, and gave Jack a knowing look, trying to indicate she needed to speak to him alone.

‘I’m really frightened,’ Tessa said quietly, staring at India, ‘frightened that some harm might come to Adele. She’s such a delicate, sensitive little girl, so defenceless. But then all small children are defenceless against adults, aren’t they?’

‘That’s right,’ India agreed. ‘But let’s try and look on the bright side. I’m sure she’s with Mark, not strangers, and therefore she’s quite safe.’

Tessa shivered and goose flesh sprang up on her arms. ‘You don’t know what Mark’s become, India! A drunk, a drug-addict! He’s not been himself for a long time, and he’s an abuser. I’ve feared for my life …’ She peered at India. ‘Did you know that?’

‘Yes, your mother told me he’d been violent with you. It’s shocking when you think about it – that he could become somebody else, totally different almost overnight.’

‘When he’s in control of himself he’s fine. It’s when he’s under the influence of drink or drugs that he’s dangerous, and quite inadvertently he could hurt Adele. That’s what worries me.’

‘I understand. But as I said, we’ve got to remain positive.’ As she spoke, India got up from the wooden garden seat, and suggested, ‘Why don’t we go down to the old oak and sit there for a while? It’s nicer there.’

‘All right –’ Tessa stopped, turned to India. ‘Perhaps we ought to go back inside. I’m afraid of missing something.’

‘Linnet will come and get us if there’s any news. It’ll do you good to be out of that room for a bit. It was becoming claustrophobic.’

Tessa nodded, and the two of them walked down the path, past the long terrace; they crossed the sloping lawn and finally came to a stop under the ancient tree. They sat together at the wrought-iron table but remained silent for a few moments, each of them involved with their own thoughts.

It was Tessa who finally broke the silence when she said in a low voice, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Adele, I love her so much, she’s my life. I’d just fall apart forever, everything would become so meaningless without her. Without my little girl my life would be over.’

‘Come on, Tessa, don’t talk like this,’ India exclaimed briskly. ‘Jack’s going to get her back, you’ll see. And you’ll settle things amicably with Mark, the divorce will go through, and things will be normal.’

‘Oh, India, I do hope you’re right, but he’s being very greedy, you know. He wants the house, a lot of money, and joint custody of Adele. I don’t think I could agree to joint custody; the house yes. But not joint custody.’

‘Once you’ve got Adele back I think you ought to try and move quickly, settle matters with him. You know very well you hate things hanging over your head.’

‘You’re right,’ Tessa agreed, suddenly brightening. ‘I’ll talk to my solicitor, perhaps we can get everything moving faster. Much faster. But it’s only a few months since I left Mark.’

‘That’s true, but so what. Anyway, Linnet and I both agree that Mark has always been avaricious, so he’s got his price, in my opinion. Buy him off, Tessa, it’s the only way.’ India peered across the table at her cousin. ‘That’s a Harte rule, remember.’

Jack and Linnet had walked out into the Stone Hall and stood talking quietly near the fireplace.

‘Mark has friends in Yorkshire, where he could stay with Adele? Is that what you’re suggesting?’ Jack asked, squinting at Linnet in the dim, early evening light.

‘Yes,’ she answered and moving across the floor she turned on several lamps.

He stood watching her for a moment, thinking how much she resembled Emma Harte – well, a young Emma – with her red-gold hair and English-rose complexion. He’d gone to work for Emma when he was eighteen, forty years ago, and he had loved, respected and admired her, found her to be the most exacting, exasperating, charming, bossy and brilliant woman he had ever known. She had been his favourite boss. Now, here was Linnet, the spitting image of her, and just as smart, smart as a whip. She was his favourite amongst this younger generation because to him she exemplified so much of the past and her family’s heritage as well as the present. It’s as if she has a foot in both worlds, the old and the new, he thought, and that makes her unique, and very special to me.