Gideon found this last statement so sad he didn’t speak for a moment, contemplating Evan’s mother and her illness. How terrible for someone to have lived that way for most of their life, virtually a prisoner trapped inside their own pain. A sudden rush of sympathy for Evan made him exclaim, ‘It can’t have been easy for you as a child. I’m so sorry, Evan.’
There was a moment’s silence; Evan looked off into the distance, staring up at Pennistone Royal, that great stately home sitting atop the hill, thinking about her childhood in Connecticut…It had been so bleak in many ways, and yet there had been her father, and of course her grandmother, who were her great boosters.
Evan’s face brightened and she exclaimed, ‘There was always Glynnis. She was there for me, my lovely gran. It was she who really brought me up, and she was–just
wonderful.’
‘I bet she was. And she was truly beautiful, if that snap you showed me this morning is anything to go by,’ Gideon murmured.
Evan nodded. ‘It’s amazing to think that Robin kept it all these years.’
‘It’s obvious he had a real big
thing
about her, my sweet, just as I do about you. I wish we could go back to Allington Hall and make love.’
She laughed, shaking her head. ‘I do, too, but we can’t.’
‘I realize that. I have a sinking feeling that we’re stuck here for lunch. With Tessa.’
‘Yes, and Jack Figg. Just the four of us.’
‘Oh. Where’re Linnet and India?’
‘Linnet told me she was going to the Harrogate store, and later to see Sir Ronald. Julian’s brought him up from London, but he’s not well apparently. Julian’s worried about his grandfather. She was going over for lunch with them, and India’s meeting a friend.’
‘Thank God Jack’s here, he’s good company,’ Gideon said. ‘Tessa can be hard to take. How is she, by the way? I guess it was some ordeal on Wednesday.’
‘It was. She really suffered, as I told you. There were moments when I thought she was going to pass out from anxiety. She was frantic. Yesterday she seemed a bit better, less agitated, but so quiet. She seems to alternate between looking worried and being preoccupied. Linnet thinks she’s changed a lot in two days, but I’m not sure.’
‘I hope it’s for the better,’ he shot back succinctly.
They sat and finished their drinks in silence and then Gideon said suddenly, ‘I guess we’d better wend our way.’ They rose, picked up their empty glasses and began to walk slowly up the hill. It was still scorching hot and the blue sky and brilliant sunlight combined to make it the most gorgeous August day.
Gideon stole a look at Evan, thinking how young and fresh she looked in her strapless cotton sundress and sandals. She was not wearing any make-up except for a touch of lipstick, and she suddenly seemed vulnerable and tender and he wanted to protect her, cherish her. He couldn’t help thinking what a strange childhood she must have had with a depressive mother. Several times she had expressed worry about her own chances of inheriting her mother’s illness, wondering aloud to him if it was genetic. He wasn’t sure about that, but after eight months he knew her well now; he was quite certain she had not inherited that troubling disease, would not fall prey to it.
As for Evan, she was also thinking about her mother, wondering what had brought about this change in her…at least what had made her sound so…
upbeat.
There was just no other word for it. Her thoughts flew to her father: she dreaded the idea of telling him he was part Harte, that she was part Harte, and that she was contemplating marrying a Harte. Trouble lies ahead, she thought. I’m going to have trouble with Dad, especially about Gideon.
She stole a surreptitious look at him through the corner of her eye, and her heart seemed to melt within her. He was the nicest, kindest man she had ever met, not to mention charming and good-looking with his reddish-blond hair and green eyes. Emma Harte’s colouring, she thought, the same as Linnet and his father. He was a full-blooded Harte and she was half Harte, but so what? She loved him very much and she had every intention of marrying him, no matter what her father said. Well, I’ve finally made up my mind, she thought, at least about Gideon. And she smiled to herself, pleased.
‘Where have you been, Emma? Dad’s been looking for you all over the place. It’s about Lady Hamilton Clothes.’ As he spoke Sir Ronald Kallinski adjusted his glasses and peered at the couple standing in front of him. The sun was behind them and he could not see them properly; he blinked several times, focusing first on the woman and then on the man.
‘Is that you, Michael? What are you doing with Emma? You’re delaying her.’
‘Grandfather, it’s me, Julian, not my father. And this is Linnet, my fiancée, not Emma. You know Linnet, Grandfather, she’s
Paula’s daughter,
Emma’s great-granddaughter. We’re engaged, remember?’
‘Yes,’ the old man said vaguely, sitting up straighter on the sofa.
‘I think you must’ve been dozing, Grandfather, and having a dream perhaps–about the old days, eh?’ Julian smiled at him.
Sir Ronald blinked again and peered at the couple. ‘Of course it’s you, Julian, and Linnet! I suppose it’s possible I
was
daydreaming about the past, that’s what you do when you’re over ninety: dream about the days long ago, live with the memories. I’m one of the last, you know, except for Bryan O’Neill, Linnet’s grandfather, and Edwina, Robin and Elizabeth. All of the others are gone now. Yes, I’m one of the last.’
‘That’s true, but you’re pretty
healthy,’
Julian said in a strong, reassuring voice, motioning for Linnet to sit down next to his grandfather on the sofa. He took the chair opposite them; he was worried about his grandfather, to whom he was close, and cared about his well-being.
Sir Ronald turned to gaze at Linnet, and said in a voice tinged with awe, ‘But my goodness, Linnet, you could be
her.
Now, when I look at you, I feel as if I’m seeing a ghost, a reincarnation. You’re the spitting image of Emma, lass.’
‘I know, Uncle Ronnie, everyone tells me that.’ She smiled at him and went on, ‘Julian and I have come to have lunch with you, and tell you about our marriage plans.’
‘Although I’m a bit doddery on my feet, I’ll be there!’ Sir Ronald announced in a voice much stronger. ‘You can be damned sure of that. I’ve not made any plans for dying, oh no, not just yet. I still have too much damage to do.’ He began to smile. ‘It’s going to be the joy of my life, seeing you two get married. It was always a dream of Emma’s…that a Kallinski and a Harte would wed one day.’
‘And don’t forget I’m also part O’Neill,’ Linnet reminded him. ‘So Julian and I will be linking the three clans when we tie the knot.’
He nodded. ‘That’s fantastic, my dear. And what’s the date then? Last time I asked, you said you didn’t know. Julian, do
you
know yet?’
‘We haven’t settled on the actual date, Grandfather. But it will be during the first week of December, probably the first Saturday. We’ll make a final decision in a few days.’
‘And where will you be wed?’ he asked, beaming at them. Their arrival had cheered him immensely. Nothing like the young to keep you young.
‘Mummy wanted it to be at the church in Pennistone Royal village, but now we’re not too sure about that…there seem to be a lot of people to invite. So Dad’s been talking about Ripon Cathedral.’
‘Aye, that’s a grand place, a very beautiful cathedral indeed. Your father sang “The Minstrel Boy” there, long, long before you were born, Linnet.’
‘Yes,’ she said softly, ‘at Emma’s funeral, wasn’t it? He told me about it once.’
‘Aye, it was. Where’s your father, Julian? I thought he was coming up here this weekend.’
‘He is. He said to tell you he’ll be arriving in time for dinner, Grandfather. Now, would you like to go in for lunch? Mary told me when we arrived that we can sit down any time you wish.’
‘Well, all right, why not. Got to eat a bit, keep myself alive and kicking for your impending nuptials.’ He smiled benignly at them both. ‘I think you’ll have to help me up,’ he muttered, staring at his grandson. ‘My bones ache, you know. I’m living on borrowed time, I suspect.’ He chuckled and turning to Linnet, he said, ‘That’s what your grandfather’s always telling me, so it must be true.’
‘D
on’t move!’ Dusty exclaimed without looking up, his eyes focused on the canvas propped on the easel. ‘It’ll just be another few minutes, and then you can have a stretch. Perhaps a few seconds even.’
‘It’s all right, I’m not going to move a muscle,’ India answered. ‘In fact, I’m fine, really I am.’
‘Good girl, good girl!’ He still didn’t look at her, concentrated on the painting, and then quite suddenly he exclaimed, ‘There, that’s it! I’ve got it! Just those last few strokes were what I needed. Okay, sweetheart, you can stand up and stretch those lovely limbs of yours. I know you must be bloody cramped by now.’
Dusty put down his brush and wiped his hands on a paint rag, then dropped it on the work table and stepped around the easel. He walked over to the chaise where India reclined and taking hold of her hands he brought her to her feet. ‘You’re a marvellous model,’ he murmured, pulling her into his arms. ‘Absolutely bloody marvellous. You didn’t even flick an eyelash.’
‘I tried very hard to keep perfectly still,’ she said, laughing, looking up into his face.
‘Oh God, are you luscious today,’ he murmured, bending towards her, finding her mouth with his own. His lips lingered on hers; she wrapped her arms around him, found herself leaning into his body, longing for him again even though they had only just made love two hours ago. He devoured her mouth, slid his hands down her back and onto her buttocks and pressed her even closer.
He brought one hand to her breast, played with her nipple, visible under the filmy black chiffon top she was wearing. Carefully, he lifted the top, bent over her breast, kissed her nipple, and then stopped abruptly, stared up at her and said, ‘Let’s go back to bed. I can’t stand fooling around like this when I want you so badly.’
‘Yes,’ was all she said, and then she smiled at him and whispered, ‘but the painting will never be finished at this rate, Mr Rhodes.’
Holding her away from him, he looked down into her large, shining eyes and murmured, ‘Only too true, Lady India, only too true. But this lad wants to–’
She stopped his words with her mouth, kissing him deeply, and then pulling away she said softly, ‘I’ll be here for the rest of the day. And tonight. I can stay as long as you want me to stay, Mr Rhodes.’ Her smile was inviting, her eyes provocative.
He smiled back at her, enjoying the way she was flirting with him.
‘It’s the weekend, and I’m free as a bird. I can be here with you. And whatever you want to do with me you can–paint me, feed me, talk to me, and love me, love me, love me,’ she finished, her voice teasing. ‘Yes, please, to the latter.’
‘You’ve got
that
exactly right, my lady.’ Dusty hugged her to him and added, ‘You’re the best, India, just the best. I can’t begin to tell you what it’s like making love to you…it’s the nearest thing to ecstasy I’ve ever experienced.’ When she remained silent he said in a low voice, ‘I mean that, you know.’
‘Yes,’ was all she could manage, feeling weak at the knees. His words filled her with happiness, thrilled her. She wanted him to love her in the way she loved him, with all his heart and soul and mind.
Dusty released her, and looked down into those silvery eyes. ‘All right, a bit more work and then we’ll have a lovely break. Later I’ll paint you for another hour or two and then I’ll make you dinner. I’m glad you’re not planning to abandon me, it’s great we’ve got the whole weekend together.’
‘I’m glad too,’ she agreed and raising her arms, reaching for the ceiling, she stretched her long lithe body. She
was
a little cramped after reclining in one position without moving for almost two hours, yet the time had passed quickly. She enjoyed being with him in the studio, watching him as he painted. She was so much in love with him she couldn’t see straight; he was the only man she had ever cared about in this way and the only man she wanted forever, and that was the truth.
Dusty began to move around himself, stretching, breathing deeply, bending, touching his toes, and saying, between movements, ‘Thank God for the air conditioning. If I hadn’t put it in just think how stifling it would have been on a day like this with all these windows. Are you all right, India? How about a glass of water?’
‘Thanks, but I’m fine. This black chiffon blouse is as light as air, and so are the harem trousers.’ She laughed and looked down at them, making a little grimace. ‘All I need are bells on my ankles, bells on my toes and a tambourine and I’d be quite exotic’
‘Don’t knock it. You look very sexy in that outfit, and those trousers! Wow!
They
don’t leave much to the imagination.’ He rolled his eyes theatrically.
‘Oh Dusty, you’re priceless,’ she said and ran over to him, threw her arms around him. ‘I do adore you so–’
The door of the studio flew open with such force and a rattling noise so loud it startled them, and they swung their heads, gaped at the young woman who had suddenly appeared on the threshold. They were horror-struck. The woman looked demented, her face twisted in rage, her eyes blazing, her hair horribly tousled; even her clothes seemed all awry on her body, in disarray.
‘Get away from him, you bloody whore!’ she shrieked at India, her voice high and shrill. ‘Get away from him. He belongs to me.’
The woman came into the studio at a run, her eyes swivelling around, taking in everything–Dusty’s paint-stained t-shirt, India’s flimsy costume, the rumpled bed at the far end of the room. Finally she spotted the canvas on the easel, the beginning of a life-size portrait of India.
Rushing across to Dusty’s work table she grabbed the first knife she saw, a jackknife he used for cutting canvas, and made a run at the painting, the knife raised and pointed at the portrait. ‘Whore! Whore!’ she screamed.