Unexpected Blessings (50 page)
He swung around, stood staring at her, his eyes widening when he saw the look on her face. It was one of absolute love.
He came into the office, closed the door, walked towards her, saying as he did, ‘What is it, India?’
‘I love you,’ she said, ‘I’ve always loved you. And I just wanted you to know that before you left.’
‘Do you want me to stay?’
‘Oh yes.
Yes.’
He moved close, put his arms around her, held her tightly. ‘I love you too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me?’
She looked up at him, her silvery eyes glazed with tears. ‘Is this a proposal of marriage, by any chance?’
‘It is. I love you. I want you to be my wife.’ ‘And I want you to be my husband,’ she whispered, and standing on tiptoe she kissed him on the mouth.
A
s it so often did in Yorkshire, the weather underwent a sudden change. After a warm and sunny weekend, it rained on Monday, and Tuesday dawned cool and overcast, the leaden sky threatening rain.
As she always did when the weather turned inclement and hinted at autumn, Margaret had gone around earlier lighting fires in the downstairs rooms which were used the most–the Stone Hall, the breakfast room and the library. The fires took the chill out of the air and were a welcome sight, a lovely antidote to the grey skies, the housekeeper thought.
Evan agreed with her, and after a light lunch, which Margaret had served her in the breakfast room, she thanked her and said, ‘I think there’s nothing nicer than a fire, Margaret, even on a summer’s day. My grandmother often used to have them going in our Connecticut house, even when the weather was sunny and warm. She just loved fires.’
‘My mother did, too,’ Margaret remarked, and continued, ‘Her name is Hilda, and she worked for Mrs Harte for years as housekeeper. Emma Harte, that is, and she told me Mrs Harte used to stoke the fires herself, always complained of feeling the cold. Anyway, the rooms in this great big house are always chilly, what with their wood floors, high ceilings and all. They need to be warmed up long before winter comes, at least I think so.’
‘It’s true. And a fire’s so cosy and welcoming, Margaret.’
‘It is indeed. Now, would you like some more coffee, Miss Evan?’
‘No, thank you, and thanks for a lovely lunch.’
‘It’s my pleasure, miss. And what time can we expect your parents to arrive?’
‘My father insisted on driving up from London. He said they’d be here in time for tea. So I suppose they’ll arrive at–
tea-time.’
Evan started to laugh. ‘Four o’clock, right?’
‘That’s correct.’
Pushing back the chair, Evan struggled to her feet, with Margaret’s help, and after thanking the housekeeper she made her way across the Stone Hall to the library. She had been discharged from the hospital yesterday afternoon, but only after promising the doctor she would call him if she had any unusual pains, which might suggest problems with the baby. It had only taken her a couple of hours to get used to the cast on her right leg, but her broken rib was painful, especially when she tried to sit up. Yet all in all, she knew she had been lucky. She might easily have been killed. An involuntary shiver ran through her as she thought of the brakes failing the way they had, and she couldn’t help wondering if Jonathan Ainsley had been behind it. Having resisted mentioning his name to Robin, she now decided to forget the vicious Jonathan, and so she put him out of her mind determinedly.
A few weeks ago she had discovered Emma’s photograph albums, wonderful, giant-sized books which her great-grandmother had assiduously filled with snaps and pictures taken over the years.
Joe, the estate-manager and Margaret’s husband, had taken them all out for her this morning, and she started perusing them again, tremendously interested in seeing her ancestors, mostly in black and white but sometimes in colour as well.
Fascinated by the earliest photographs, she opened the first album once more. It was of Victorian style, handsomely bound in crushed red velvet and enhanced with ornate silver corners and a silver clasp. It was filled with Emma’s notations in her neat but flowing script.
The man who fascinated her the most was Emma’s older brother, Winston. There was a picture of him in his Royal Navy uniform, taken when he was only seventeen during the First World War. He was Gideon’s great-grandfather, and she saw the man she loved reflected in this ancient snap. Gideon had inherited the Harte good looks from Winston the first, it wasn’t hard to spot that. A photograph next to it had been removed, but next to the gap Emma had written:
My father, Big
Jack Harte.
She couldn’t help wondering who had taken the picture out of the album, and why. Further along there was another snapshot with the notation:
My father,
and it was in Emma’s writing.
Evan sat staring at it, and she suddenly realized who the man in the picture reminded her of: Toby, Gideon’s brother. That was it! And why not? Toby was also descended from Big Jack’s son, Winston. Next to this Brownie snapshot of Big Jack was a faded picture of Elizabeth Harte, Big Jack’s wife and Emma’s mother. Goodness, Robin’s twin sister Elizabeth looks just like her, Evan whispered to herself.
And so do I
. Robin was right when he said I was a true Harte, descended in a direct line from Emma’s mother and father.
Carefully and slowly, she turned the pages, intrigued by pictures of Paul McGill in his army uniform; Robin and Elizabeth when they were small, with their father Arthur Ainsley; Kit, Emma’s son by Joe Lowther, her first husband, with Edwina who was all dressed up in elegant clothes that smacked of the Roaring Twenties.
In the second album were pictures of Kit, Robin and Elizabeth during the Second World War. How glamorous her great-aunt Elizabeth looked, with her flowing black hair and dressed in her Red Cross uniform. And here was her great-grandmother standing outside the House of Commons with an elegantly-dressed couple. Emma had written:
My dear friend Jane Stuart Ogden and her husband Bill.
The third album held photographs of Daisy, Emma’s daughter by Paul McGill. And there was a snap of Paul and Emma together, another with their only child, Daisy. And next to that there was a picture of Paula and Philip with their mother Daisy and their father David Amory.
Evan sat back, amazed at the hundreds of photographs which dated back to the beginning of the twentieth century. Why, the albums, twenty-one in all, covered almost a hundred years. If I were a writer, I could create a history of this family from these photographs, she thought. What a wonderful family saga.
And now
she
was carrying another Harte, the next generation. Evan sat back, placed her hands on her stomach, thinking of her baby. It had not been planned, it was all an accident, but she was glad she was pregnant. How lucky she had been not to lose the baby in the car crash. Again she shivered at the thought that she and the child could so easily be in the morgue.
Evan closed her eyes, drifting with her thoughts of the baby and the sudden change in her life that she or he would bring in the years to come. She hoped she would be married to Gideon. He was her true love, the love of her life, and she knew what she had to do now to make things right between them.
Robin stood in the doorway of the library studying Evan from the threshold, appreciating how lovely she looked this afternoon. So much better than yesterday: not so pale and wan, and the periwinkle-blue blouse she was wearing was the perfect colour for her.
She was a good person, he had known that from their first encounter. Ethical, sincere and straight as a die, that was Evan, and he knew she would come through this current crisis with flying colours. She was practical and down to earth, and he believed she would be able to settle the differences she had with Gideon.
Tapping on the open door, he walked in, exclaiming, ‘There you are, Evan! I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
She looked up at once, her face changing, breaking into smiles. ‘Robin, you’re early!’
‘Yes, I am, but I wanted a few moments alone with you before your parents arrive.’ He walked over to the table where she was seated, his eyes on the piles of photograph albums. With a chuckle he said, ‘Boning up on the family, are you?’
‘Of course. And it’s fascinating!’
Leaning over her, Robin kissed her cheek, sat down, and went on, ‘I want to tell you again how thrilled I am about the baby, Evan. And although I said it was Gideon’s business and yours the other day, I was just wondering whether you plan to tell him or not?’
‘Yes, I will tell him, but I will have to choose the right time.’ Leaning towards him, she gave him the benefit of a radiant smile. ‘I’m going to call the baby Robin whether it’s a girl or a boy. I hope that pleases you.’
He beamed, obviously delighted by her words.
‘Of course it does, my dear. Now what do you have in mind for this afternoon? When you said I should come to tea with your parents I must admit I was somewhat startled…What are you actually planning?’
She laughed. ‘I’m not too sure, to be honest. But I thought I’d get you all together and…let the chips fall where they may.’
‘I see. And when do they plan to return to New York now?’
‘I’m not sure. When I called them after the crash they were sort of hysterical at first, until I convinced them I was actually all in one piece except for a few broken bits. My mother insisted on coming up to see me when she understood I was going to stay here until I was a little bit more mobile. So they’ve postponed their flight home for the moment. Anyway, I do plan to go back to work at the Leeds store later this week.’
‘Don’t rush it, Evan, I’m sure Paula’s not quite the slave-driver we sometimes all imagine,’ he laughed. ‘I suppose I’m the only person who knows you’re pregnant?’
‘Oh yes, and please keep it a secret, won’t you?’
‘I will. You
did
tell Gideon about the car crash though, didn’t you?’
‘Oh yes, and he was very upset. He said he’ll get here to see me as soon as he can. But there’s such a lot going on because of the terrorist attacks in America, and he does like to be at the centre of the action, at the papers.’
‘I know.’ Clearing his throat, reaching for her hand, Robin said slowly, ‘I don’t want you to be upset or fearful, Evan, when I tell you that the police phoned me this morning. They did a thorough examination of the car, and looked at the brakes. The pipes had been cut.’
She was not surprised to hear this, and she nodded. ‘You mean someone tampered with them?’
‘I do. The brakes were gone when you started down the hill. But the police say they have no way to find the culprit. No fingerprints, you see.’
She felt chilled to the bone when she thought of what could have happened to her. Not only might she and the baby have been killed, but the old man on the cart and his horse as well. Staring at her grandfather she said softly, ‘Nobody knew I would use the car…’ Her voice trailed off and she stared at him worriedly, her large grey-blue eyes filling with concern for him.
‘No, they didn’t. I think I was the intended victim, my dear, which is why I don’t want you to worry too much about yourself.’
‘But I’ll worry about you!’ she cried. ‘How could I not?’
‘Please don’t, I shall be fine. And certainly more on my toes than before! Very cautious and wary in the future, I promise.’
‘Has…has
he
been here?’
‘You mean Jonathan, of course. No, he hasn’t, but you know as well as I do that doesn’t mean a thing. He can get lots of people to do his dirty work for him, and I’m sure he’s willing to pay well for such
favours,
shall we call them.’
Evan remained silent, sat back in the chair staring at Robin, thinking what a lovely, dignified old man he was. Her heart went out to him. How terrible to think that your own son had tried to do you harm, because that was exactly what the severed brakes of the Rover implied. Evan leaned forward again, squeezed his hand, and then glanced up as she heard a noise.
‘I got here as soon as I could,’ Gideon exclaimed, appearing in the doorway, hurrying into the library, looking anxious, his eyes fixed on her.
‘Gideon! I didn’t expect you until later in the week.’
Rushing over to her, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, but gently so. ‘I can’t bear to think you might have been killed, darling.’ Drawing away from her he looked into her face. ‘Sorry if I held you too hard, Evan. How’s the rib? I didn’t hurt you just now, did I?’
‘No, I’m fine. I
was
lucky, Gid, just a broken rib and a broken ankle, a lot of bruises. It could have been so much worse.’
‘I realize that, darling.’ Turning to Robin, Gideon greeted him, shook his outstretched hand, and said in a quiet voice echoing with gratitude, ‘Thanks for looking after her for me, Uncle Robin. I really appreciate it.’
Robin merely smiled and nodded, pleased his great-nephew had arrived.
Evan said, ‘Sit down. Gideon, there’s something I want to tell you.’ The moment he had walked in so unexpectedly she had made a snap decision to tell him about her condition. It was the right thing.
Staring at her questioningly, he did as she asked, took a chair next to Robin at the other side of the card table. Puzzled by her tone, he said, ‘You sound odd…is there something wrong?’
‘No. At least I don’t think so…I’m pregnant. I’m carrying our child, Gid.’
Gideon was flabbergasted and he gaped at her for the longest moment. Then he pushed back the chair, jumped up and went to her. He stood over her, his hands on her shoulders. ‘Oh my God! We’re having a baby. This is wonderful news, Evan! Just wonderful!’
Turning her head, looking up at him she saw the genuine pleasure on his face, and those light green eyes, often so cold, critical and appraising, were filled with joy. There was no doubting his feelings, and relief flooded through her.