Unexpected Blessings (20 page)

After they had calmed down they took a shower together, stood under the running water wrapped in each other’s arms. It was as if they were unable to pull apart.

But they finally did so, and Evan went into the bedroom to dry her hair and brush it into shape. She was still wrapped in a towel, putting on a few touches of make-up when Gideon came back into the bedroom and quickly got dressed. Then he sat down in a chair and watched her, loving her, counting his blessings that he had found her. Yes, he had found his true love in this uncertain world and he felt very lucky he had. He was truly fortunate that this woman was a perfect fit in every possible way, that they were in tune with each other, so compatible.

After she had put on a pretty muslin summer frock and a pair of sandals, Evan swung to face him, and said, ‘What is it? You sure are staring at me.
Hard.’

‘Just admiring, darling, that’s all,’ he murmured languidly.

She walked towards him, holding out her left hand. ‘It’s gorgeous, Gideon, isn’t it? The most perfect engagement ring.’

‘I think so, and you
are
wearing it tonight, aren’t you? Downstairs, I mean?’

‘Yes, if you want me to…everyone will know we’ve become engaged…’ She paused, looked at him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

‘Naturally. But since we
are
actually engaged why shouldn’t they know? They’re family, yours as well as mine. And listen, I don’t want you taking it off, not even when you see your parents next week. Okay?’ His green eyes narrowed slightly, were piercing as they gazed at her.

‘Okay, okay,’ she answered quickly, meaning it, but also detecting something in his voice and in his eyes that would brook no argument. And he was right. Since they were indeed engaged to be married why should they hide it from her parents? Her father wouldn’t be pleased, she was fairly certain of that, but it was her life not his; conversely, she knew Gideon’s parents would be delighted, because Emily and Winston had already told her they hoped she would marry their son. Something suddenly occurred to her, and she exclaimed, ‘Can we go over to see Robin tomorrow and tell him, Gid? Oh let’s do it. I’d really like him to know we’ve made it official.’

‘Why not? Anyway, he’s a bit of a romantic, isn’t he, so he’ll be happy that we’ve told him first. Imagine, Evan, that he kept that snap of your granny all these years.’

Evan started to chuckle. ‘She was no
granny,
not my Glynnis! Not even when she was old. And anyway over fifty years ago she was one helluva glamour girl.’

‘I saw the picture, didn’t I? She was a true beauty and so are you.
My
beauty.
My
beautiful wife-to-be.’

Tessa stood at the stove, hovering over several pots, so concentrated that there was no way she was going to turn around at the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. She simply called out, ‘Where have you been? I thought you were coming to chat to me ages ago, Lorne.’

‘It’s not Lorne,’ Jack Figg said, as he drew closer. ‘Lorne sent me to ask if you’d like a drink.’

Now Tessa swung around, and nodded. ‘That would be nice, Jack.’

‘Lorne’s busy opening a bottle of champagne in the Stone Hall. Is that all right? Or would you prefer something else?’

‘Champagne, thanks.’

‘Back in a moment,’ he replied and disappeared through the door.

Alone again, Tessa busied herself with her pans once more, stirring the meat gently, which was on a very low light, lifting lids, peering into pots, nodding to herself, and then turning some of them off. A moment later Jack returned, was instantly by her side, offering her a flute of champagne. ‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it from him.

Bringing his glass to touch hers, he said, ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers,’ she answered, and took a sip. ‘That’s crisp. Tastes great.’

‘All of this smells mighty good. What’re you making for dinner?’

Turning off several more burners on the stove top, Tessa walked over to the kitchen table, sat down, and sipped her champagne; Jack followed, stood looking at her. ‘Or is it a secret?’

‘No, it’s not. I’ve steamed a batch of white asparagus to start with, and I’m going to serve it warm with Hollandaise sauce. The main course is couscous. I know that perhaps this sounds like a strange dish on a hot night, but it’s not really. After all, couscous is Moroccan in origin and Morocco’s a warm country. The couscous grain is very light, a type of semolina, you know, and I’ve used veal instead of lamb, which is a much lighter meat. I’ve made a sort of Moroccan-style
blanquette de veau,
but with a brown sauce, not a white one. You’ll enjoy it, Jack.’

‘I know I will,’ he answered, sitting down finally at the table. ‘The aromas are wonderful. What exactly am I smelling in here?’

‘Lots of spices melding together, for one thing. Turmeric, ginger, saffron, cumin, and I’ve used onions, so you can smell those, as well as vegetables steaming, and meat juices. I hope you’re hungry because I’ve made loads of it.’

Jack laughed. ‘Sitting here has certainly got
my
taste buds going. My mouth’s really watering. To be honest, if I was starving before I’m now
ravenous
.’

‘It’s almost finished. Is everybody downstairs?’

‘Gideon and Evan haven’t appeared, nor has India, but the others are out there in the Stone Hall quaffing cocktails.’

‘Gosh, I’d better get back to my pots and pans.’ She half rose.

Jack reached out, put his hand on her arm. ‘Give me a couple of minutes, Tessa, sit here with me. Or is something going to spoil? I’d hate to be the one to ruin a dinner you’ve spent hours preparing.’

‘No, no, nothing will spoil, as long as it
is
only a few minutes.’ She threw him a curious look, and sat down again. ‘You want to talk to me about Adele, is that it?’

Now it was his turn to give her an odd look. ‘How did you know?’ he asked, momentarily startled.

‘Because you’ve not mentioned her since Thursday, not asked me anything about her, and I just thought that was very strange. You see, Jack, no one’s asked me what happened when she was with Mark, and I suppose this struck me as rather peculiar. Maybe not the family being quiet, but I wondered why you hadn’t brought it up.’

‘I wanted you to calm down. Also, I knew you would tell me if there was something I ought to know. And to be honest, you’ve seemed very much on…an even keel, and I realized if Mark had treated her badly, or hurt her in any way, you would have come running to me.’

‘That’s true, and you’re right, nothing much happened according to Adele. He drove her around the countryside for a while, and then he took her to Harrogate, to Betty’s Café for lunch and after that they went to Ripon. I think mostly she was terribly bored, and upset as well, crying about the loss of her doll. And of course she became tired in the afternoon, so he had to take a room at the Spa Hotel so that she could have her afternoon nap. God knows what he was thinking, pulling such a stunt. Well, to upset me, scare me, I must presume.’

‘That’s absolutely correct. Did Adele mention the other man in the car? A name perhaps? Did she know him?’

‘No, she didn’t know him, and she seems to have a good memory for a little girl. She said there was a friend of Daddy’s with them. His name was Buddy. But I’m not sure this really
was
his actual name.’

‘Oh, what do you mean?’ Jack asked, looking at her alertly.

‘Because when I questioned Adele about the man she said her father had told her, “This is my buddy,” and I suppose she thought that was his name, because he called the man
buddy
several times later. I’ve no idea who it was with him, Jack, unless it was one of his sidekicks from the office.’

Jack nodded. ‘That’s a thought. I’ll have it checked out on Monday morning first thing, ascertain if any of his assistants were off on Wednesday.’

Tessa jumped up, and exclaimed, ‘I’ve got to start getting the food onto the plates, Jack, otherwise everything will fall apart. Is that it, more or less? I mean what you wanted to ask me?’

‘Yes, it is, Tessa. Now, can I help you?’

‘Not really, but you could carry the food into the dining room in a few minutes.’

‘I’d be delighted to do so.’ He took a sip of his Dom Pérignon, sat watching her move around, emptying pans, scooping food onto the big platters she had taken out of the two ovens. Lithe, energetic, efficient, totally in control. Observing her acutely, he thought she had never looked better. Normally as pale as a ghost, tonight she seemed to glow. Her milky complexion had a flush to it, a shell-pink tint which obviously came from exertion and the heat of the kitchen, yet it was becoming to her. Also, she had been very busy all afternoon into early evening, and he was aware she was usually in much better spirits when she was working hard. In this she was like her mother, Paula O’Neill. Paula functioned best when she was under great pressure. She fell apart when she had nothing to do, became morose, lethargic, lost all of that superwoman energy. Tessa and Linnet both took after their mother, but he also knew it was a characteristic all three of them had inherited from the founding mother of the dynasty, Emma Harte. As long as he had known and worked for Emma she had been pulled down by inactivity and boredom; she was at the top of her form and full of energy when she was working like a galley slave.

And there was another thing–Tessa did love cooking, drew enormous satisfaction from preparing gourmet meals for the family and friends. In his experience, someone who loved their work was bound to thrive. And she looked as though she were thriving tonight, despite her worries about Mark and the impending divorce.

Tessa interrupted his thoughts when she said, ‘Jack, would you mind going into the dining room and lighting the candles on the table? And perhaps you could check the hotplates on the sideboard, please. I put them on low about half an hour ago, so they should be pretty warm by now.’

‘Yes, General, sir!’ he exclaimed, jumping up swiftly, saluting her and hurrying out, chuckling to himself.

Her gaze followed Jack as he left the kitchen. If he loved her mother and adored Linnet, whom he had always called Beauty, he nonetheless did
like
her, that she knew for a certainty, and he was kind to her, had been since her childhood. But he was an enigma, a man who spoke little about his personal life, gave nothing away. Her mother had told her once that he had been married years ago, and there had been some kind of tragedy. But that was all she knew about his private life, which was actually nothing. He had let things drop from time to time–how much he loved sailing in Robin Hood’s Bay, the picturesque Yorkshire seaside town where he lived, that he was keen on the theatre, and was an amateur painter in his spare time. But not much else. She knew he was devoted to the Hartes, on a retainer with Harte Stores, and he had been around a lot lately, ever since the trouble with Mark had first started. She was glad about that. He was a reassuring presence, familiar, comforting, very reliable, and like a member of the family. And yet there was so much she didn’t know about him. Some mystery man, she thought, and began straining the vegetables.

Jack returned to the kitchen when she was heaping couscous onto an extra large platter; he stood watching her with interest as she formed it into a grand mound in the centre.

‘What are those other things in the couscous?’ Jack asked, leaning forward, peering at it in order to see better.

‘Chickpeas and large raisins, which is the traditional way of preparing it. Now I’m going to add the steamed vegetables around the mound.’ As she was speaking she had begun to spoon carrots, turnips, parsnips, zucchini and pearl onions around the couscous, and then turning to him she explained, ‘I’d like you to pop this in the big oven over there to keep warm, please. I’ve got to dish up the veal stew and warm the Hollandaise sauce for the asparagus, and then I’m all set.’

‘Glad to be of help, Tessa, and congratulations, the dinner looks splendid.’ He walked over to the oven with the huge plate of couscous, and then thought to ask, ‘How do you plan to serve?’

‘After we’ve had the asparagus I thought you and Desmond and Linnet and I could carry the big platters into the dining room and put them on the hotplates. The dinner will be served buffet style; everyone can help themselves.’

‘It’s the only way,’ he answered, ‘and certainly the easiest.’

The room was unfamiliar.

So much so he felt completely disoriented.

He blinked in the dim light and looked around, slowly began to make out shapes and objects juxtaposed against each other: a chest, a chair, a clock on the wall, and to the right, a window. Where the hell was he?

Dusty Rhodes blinked again, and adjusted his eyes. And very slowly he began to get a better picture of the room, a whole picture, not fragmented parts. It was a hospital room. And he was in a hospital bed…hooked up to a drip. Or something. What the hell was he doing here?

For a moment he could not remember anything. And then with a sudden flash of vision he saw himself in the studio that morning, rushing to stand in front of the painting, protecting it from the raised knife.

Once again he felt the sudden sharp pain of the blade entering his body. A blinding pain. Excruciating. Blood. A lot of blood. Spurting out. All over him. Covering his shirt. On his hand. Running down his arm. On the floor.

She had driven him here. Harrogate District Hospital. That’s where he was. Now he remembered it all.
India.
Lady India Standish, daughter of an earl, a lady in her own right. A wonderful girl. An angel. The best girl in the world. She had saved his life. No question about that. She had remained calm. He could see her in his mind’s eye. Calm. Controlled. Practical. She had wadded him up with towels. Driven him here. At breakneck speed. He remembered cringing at the speed. She had delivered him in one piece to Emergency. Yes, that’s why he was still alive, hadn’t bled to death. Because of her.

She had come back to see him a short while ago. He had still been out of it. He had opened his eyes once and seen her sitting there. Next to the bed. Holding his hand. Mouthing soothing words. White and ghostly, the pale hair in disarray. He had tried to speak to her. But he had been too weak. Then he had passed out again.