Taking a deep breath, Evan continued, ‘Consider this…there was no way Glynnis could have foreseen that I would actually end up getting a job at Harte’s that first day. Or that I would meet Gideon in the corridor and that we would fall in love. Am I right?’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Basically, Glynnis had no
guarantee
that any of those things would happen.
None at all.
So her method of getting me to the Hartes, which was important to her, was somewhat convoluted, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I suppose it was,’ Robin agreed, frowning again, looking baffled. Then he suddenly asked, ‘So what are you actually getting at?’
‘Glynnis, our very clever Glynnis Hughes, apparently wanted to heave
me
into the orbit of the Harte family, as we both know, and before she died she told my mother I would be
irresistible
to them. And by the way, that’s something I only recently found out. Still, there wasn’t any guarantee I would ever meet a Harte, was there, Robin?’
‘No. In fact the way you’re putting it now, it was quite unlikely. You could have gone to the store, discovered my mother was dead, and gone away. But you fell in love with the store, at least so you told me.’ He paused, nodded his head. ‘And so you decided your grandmother had been wandering in her mind that day, dismissed her words about Emma as unimportant, and got yourself a job. All very admirable on your part, but Glynnis didn’t know this would happen. Of course you’re correct about that, Evan.’
‘But she knew that, too, and our very smart Glynnis covered her back, so to speak.’
‘How?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing keenly, wondering what was coming next.
‘When my grandmother was in hospital in New York, last November a year ago, she told my mother to go to her apartment and remove a suitcase of letters. They were letters from your mother, as it turned out. Emma had consistently written to Glynnis over the years, and Glynnis kept the letters…just as Emma had kept hers.’
‘I see.’ Robin walked over to the window and sat down in a wingchair, his eyes thoughtful.
‘Glynnis told Mom to give the letters to me, and she impressed upon Mom that I should read them all. She was very insistent about that apparently, and just as insistent that my mother did not show them to my father, or even tell him about them.’
‘Really,’ Robin muttered. Throwing her a direct look, he asked, ‘And did Marietta give you the letters?’
‘She did, Robin, but not for a long time. She says her reason for holding onto them was because she wished to give them to me in person, and to relate face to face what Gran had told her when she was in hospital. But, in fact, Mom kept them for a whole year. She says that was because I started working at Harte’s in Knightsbridge and got involved with Gideon. She saw no urgency, she says, and decided the letters could wait. After all, I’d done what Glynnis had planned, had hoped would happen…I’d fallen right into the middle of the Harte family, and, let’s face it, in a very big way.’
‘Yes, that’s true. But when did your mother actually give you Emma’s letters to Glynnis?’
‘Last September, after the car crash. She brought them with her when she came up to see me, before she and Dad went back to New York. I read most of them while I was recovering from my broken ankle and rib.’
‘I see. And I suppose my mother’s letters were revealing perhaps?’
‘Oh yes. And I suddenly realized something crucial as I read the letters. It was this…if I hadn’t met any of you, and if Paula hadn’t found out the truth about Glynnis’s past, I would still have discovered that you were my father’s biological father.
Because of those letters.
That’s why Glynnis wanted me to have them. She protected her back, as I said earlier. She wanted me to know the truth about my heritage no matter what.’
‘I think you’re correct,’ Robin admitted, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a small sigh. Somehow he knew now that there was much more coming and he steeled himself.
‘That’s why she wanted me to go to London…to find my heritage.’
‘But we’ve always known that, haven’t we?’ he answered. ‘Or rather, assumed it. However, you are right about your grandmother’s method.’ Robin shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to simply tell your father and you the truth when she became so ill? After all, Richard Hughes was already dead. What harm could be done?’
‘Glynnis was not from my generation, or my mother’s…she came from the old school. She was
afraid
to tell us, most especially Dad. That’s what I believe, anyway. She didn’t want to disillusion him, to be diminished in his eyes. She was proud, and she loved Dad very much. I guess she was scared–in the way I even was–about revealing the truth to Dad.’
‘I understand what you’re saying, I do, Evan. And you’re right. Your grandmother and I grew up in a different world. A very strictured world where illegitimate children were frowned on.’
‘And so Glynnis
set me up.
And left it to Fate with a capital E Gran was always talking about Fate and Destiny, she believed in those things. Yet she only left it to Fate
partially…
because she made sure I would get my hands on those extremely revealing letters from Emma Harte.’
Robin closed his eyes, his silver head resting against the back of the wingchair. In his repose she saw his age more fully. He was, after all, eighty years old, and at this moment he looked it. Her heart went out to him. But after a moment, clearing her throat, Evan said softly,
‘Robin.’
He opened his eyes and promptly sat up. ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ he said with a slight laugh. ‘I was just pondering your words.’
She nodded, took a step closer to the chair. ‘I worked it all out, you know.’ There was a pause, and then Evan finished, ‘She was sending me to you, Robin.’
Not a word left his mouth, but his blue eyes turned flinty, and the look he gave her was shrewd.
‘Glynnis was so worried about you when she was ill, she needed
me
to come to
you,
and possibly my father, too. But it was mostly me she wanted in London with you.’
‘Why do you say all this?’ Robin asked, his voice rising slightly.
‘Because it’s true! Glynnis wanted you to have the grandchild you’d never had, and she didn’t want you to be alone either. When she was gone, I mean.’
Robin let out a long sigh. ‘Continue,’ he said in a low voice.
‘You never gave each other up, did you?’
There was a silence. The only sound was the clock ticking.
‘No,’ he admitted at last. ‘No, we didn’t.’ His voice was resigned.
‘You and Glynnis got back together when you were both thirty!’ Evan exclaimed. ‘And you were together for almost
fifty
years, weren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Robin answered softly, ‘we were, thank God.’
‘In your own way you were like a married couple,’ Evan went on. ‘Glynnis came to London whenever she could, at least several times a year, using any excuse she could think of, and you came to New York and Connecticut. You spent all of your vacations with Glynnis, never with your wife. You came to New York when the House of Commons was in recess, and as often as you could. You were so madly in love with her you would have done anything to get her. Divorced Valerie, given up your political career, anything to be with my grandmother
always.’
Evan gazed at him, her eyes warm.
‘But Glynnis loved you so much, Robin, she wouldn’t let you do that, ruin yourself in politics. It
was
different in those days, the fifties, and there could have been a scandal about her. And so you…
compromised.
That’s what she called it…
The Compromise.
You stayed in your marriages, so as not to hurt Richard or Valerie. But you loved only each other and you spent as much time together as you could.’
After a few minutes, Robin murmured, ‘This is too much–’
‘Robin, Robin,
don’t!
It’s me, your grandchild, out of your loins through my father. I’m not angry or upset, and you mustn’t be upset either.’
Drawing closer to him, Evan put her hand on his shoulder, and looked down into his upturned face. ‘Glynnis did something else. She left me
your
letters to
her.
Hundreds and hundreds of letters, which you wrote to her for fifty years. She kept them. In fact, she kept everything…your Christmas cards, birthday cards, the cards which came with your many gifts to her…’ Evan broke off, suddenly noticing how stricken he looked.
Bending over him, she murmured in a gentle tone, ‘Please don’t think I’m criticizing you, or Glynnis. Because I’m not. I’m happy you had each other, that you gave each other so much joy. She loved you with all of her heart, and she was loyal to you all of her life.’ Evan’s eyes were suddenly very moist and she brushed them with her hand.
When she looked at Robin she saw that tears were rolling down his face and his mouth trembled. After a split second, he said in a slightly quavering voice, ‘It’s been so hard without her. I wanted to die too…until you came to me.’
‘I know, I know,’ she soothed, her hand on his shoulder. ‘I really do understand…very few people have a love like yours.’
‘Have you read my letters to Glynnis?’ he asked, his eyes fastened intently on hers.
‘Yes, but not all of them. Mom only gave them to me the other day, when she arrived here from New York for Linnet’s wedding. There’s a huge suitcase in that cupboard over there, and it’s
full
of your letters. There are hundreds and hundreds of them.’
‘Did I write so many?’ he asked, and unexpectedly smiled at Evan.
She smiled back. ‘Oh yes, you did! But I only read some of the recent ones. You saw her a few days before she died, didn’t you?’
He nodded. ‘How do you know?’
‘I found the letter you sent to her in early November last year. You were coming to her. You wanted to bring her back to England. After all, you were both widowed, you could actually be together, could be married–’
‘We were married,’ he cut in, ‘but without the benefit of a piece of paper. I consider Glynnis to be the only wife I ever had.’
‘I understand,’ Evan replied softly. ‘But she was suddenly and unexpectedly so ill, wasn’t she? And she couldn’t travel…The last time you saw her was in the hospital in Manhattan.’
Robin could not speak. His grief was palpable. He took out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes, blew his nose, and tried to compose himself, trying hard to bring his swimming senses under control.
When he had recovered himself sufficiently, Evan opened her hand, showed him her palm. ‘This is for you, Grandfather.’
She rarely ever called him that, and his eyes widened as he stared up at her.
‘It was in a small envelope with your writing on it, Robin. You wrote out an address and a phone number.’
The sight of the latchkey brought a sparkle to his eyes, and the tiredness seemed to slip from his face.
‘It’s for Edwina’s house,’ Evan remarked.
‘No. Ours. Glynnis’s and mine. A lovely old mews in London. I used to borrow it from Edwina, and one day she finally agreed to sell it to me.’
‘And you bought it?’
‘Yes. For Glynnis. But the deeds have always remained in Edwina’s name. If she dies before me, it comes to you through her son Anthony, India’s father. If I die first, then it’s the same process. The house will be yours, Evan.’
Evan stood looking at him, totally silent, unable to say anything so touched was she.
He said, with a little smile, ‘That’s where I still live when I go up to London. It’s full of memories…of Glynnis…of our years together.’ The tears came again, and he searched for his handkerchief, wiped his eyes. ‘Do forgive a foolish old man, my dear.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ Evan reassured him, and began to laugh. ‘Look at me, I’m crying too, and ruining all my make-up. And it’s Linnet’s wedding in an hour.’
‘I’m very aware of that. I must go and find your father.’
‘Your son, Robin, your son by Glynnis.’
Nodding, he gave her the benefit of a huge smile. ‘We loved each other so much, and we pulled it off, you know. All those years we pulled it off, Evan, and we never hurt anybody.’
I wonder about that, Evan thought, then pushed the thought away.
He handed her the latchkey. ‘It was Glynnis’s. I gave it to her. And now it’s yours, Evan. Take it.’
She did, and then walked with him to the door. ‘I’ll drive over next week with the suitcase of your letters,’ she told him. ‘But I wonder…could I keep some of the photographs? The two of you were so gorgeous when you were young, you looked like movie stars.’
‘Glynnis.
Not I,’ he protested.
‘Yes, you too. Anyway, I’ll bring your letters over to Lackland Priory.’
‘No.
Glynnis wanted you to have them, and you should.’ Robin stared into her blue-grey eyes, and added, ‘If you wish, I will give you Glynnis’s letters to me. She wrote to me every week from 1950 until her last year.’ He paused, and the look he gave her was odd, even worried, before he added softly, ‘But I think they might be a little…
hot,
shall we say.’
Evan burst out laughing. ‘I’ll bet! Because some of yours certainly are!
Red hot.’
Her eyes were sparkling as she went on, ‘And why not? Yours was quite a love story, incredible really, Robin.’
Now she came into his outstretched arms and he held her close to him, thinking how like his Glynnis she was sometimes. ‘Glynnis was so worried about dying on me, leaving me on my own. We weren’t together all the time, but what we had over all those years was something really quite…
magnificent.
Magnificent.’
T
he lovely little stone church in the village of Pennistone Royal was ancient, dating back over nine hundred years to the time of the first Norman kings of England.