A High Price to Pay (3 page)

She said softly, fiercely, 'Over my dead body.'

As she got to the study door, she heard Melanie's voice, and groaned

inwardly. She turned the handle and went in. Melanie, flushed and

bright-eyed, was draped decoratively across the arm of one of the big

chairs, clearly in the middle of some anecdote which Nicholas

Bristow was receiving with amused appreciation.

Alison said clearly and precisely, 'Would you go up to your room,

Melanie, please. I have something I wish to say to Mr Bristow.'

For once Melanie didn't stop to argue. She tookone look at Alison's

stormy eyes, at the bright spots of colour burning in the pallor of her

face, and went without a word.

Alison closed the door behind her, then drew a deep breath before

turning back to face him.

He said softly, 'Don't be angry with her, Miss Mortimer. You can't

expect a kid of her age to join in day after day of undiluted gloom.'

He was seated on the edge of the big desk, glass in hand, swinging

one elegantly shod foot. He had even, she noticed, loosened his tie

slightly, and it was that detail which set the seal on her rage and

bitterness.

'Get off my father's desk,' she said, her voice quivering. 'Get away

from his things. They don't belong to you yet.'

He finished what was left in his glass and put it down, then got to his

feet without haste.

'So he told you,' he observed expressionlessly.

'Yes, he told me.' She threw back her head defiantly, staring at him

with disgust. 'I thought you were a financier, Mr Bristow, not a cheap

money-lender!'

'Oh, I'm certainly not cheap, Miss Mortimer,' he said. He was smiling

derisively, but there was anger simmering underneath, and she knew

it. 'But do go on. I'm sure you can think of something appropriate

about me preying on widows and orphans, if you really put your mind

to it. Come on?-sweetheart, let it rip. Don't leave a cliche unturned.'

'You bastard,' Alison said unevenly.

He clicked his tongue reprovingly. 'Not very inventive, or even true.

Try again.'

She wrapped her arms round her body, shivering. 'You're vile,' she

said quietly, after a pause. 'You've robbed us of everything, and you

can stand there—taunting me!'

The blue eyes flicked over her, swift and cruel as an arctic wind. 'Let

it be a lesson to you, Miss Mortimer. Never begin what you're not

prepared— or equipped—to finish. Now, you mentioned something

about my having robbed you. That's not only a slander, but a lie. I did

my damnedest to talk your father out of the whole thing, but he

wouldn't hear of it. He called it a calculated risk— I called it

madness.'

'But you still went ahead and loaned him the money.'

"Yes,' he said. 'Because he might have pulled it off. By all accounts,

he'd dragged Mortimers back from the brink more than once. If the

Chinese deal had come off, I'd have been repaid, at a handsome rate

of interest. Why should I have turned him down?'

'But you can't really want this house,' she said, almost feverishly. 'It's

been in our family for generations. It's old-fashioned, and a nightmare

to heat, and staff and keep clean. It's probably got woodworm, and

dry rot, and—and deathwatch beetle.'

'No,' he said. 'Although it needs a certain amount of renovation and

improvement, it's basically sound. Your father had a survey and

valuation done not long ago—at my behest, naturally,'

'So you always recognised the possibility . . .'

'That your father might not be in a position to repay me? Of course.'

He gave a slight shrug. 'Although I couldn't predict the present tragic

circumstances, of course.'

'Of course,' she echoed bitterly. 'And how long do we have, Mr

Bristow, before you start to recoup your losses by putting Ladymead

on the market?'

'Oh, I'm not going to sell it,' he said casually. 'I'm going to live here.'

'LIVE HERE?' Alison repeated the words almost mechanically, her

brain seething. 'You can't be serious!'

'I'm perfectly serious. It's a very charming house—or did you think

only members of your own family had the taste to appreciate it?'

'Of course not.' She shook her head in bewilderment. 'But this isn't a

very fashionable area—and a fair distance from London, and the kind

of lifestyle you're accustomed to.'

Nicholas Bristow's mouth curled. 'How do you know the kind of

lifestyle I'm accustomed to?' he asked flatly.

Alison flushed. 'You don't exactly keep your haunts—or your

companions—a secret,' she said in a constricted tone.

'Ah.' He gave her a long look. 'I wouldn't have put you down as a

devotee of the gutter press, Miss Mortimer, but let it pass. If you feel

entitled to some explanation, then I'll give you one. I've a comfortable

house in Town, but I've never regarded it as home particularly.

Perhaps I've reached a stage in my life where the idea of putting down

some roots has suddenly become appealing— I don't know. Anyway,

people commute to City offices from far greater distances than this,

and besides, there's room in the grounds for a helicopter pad if I

thought it was necessary. Does that satisfy your curiosity?'

'It wasn't simply curiosity,' she said quietly. 'I'd hoped, you see, if you

were going to put the house on the market, to perhaps come to some

arrangement, but I see now that's impossible.'

His brows rose. 'What did you have in mind, as a matter of interest?'

Her flush deepened burningly. 'I have a job. I thought, given time, I

might be able to pay off the mortgage.'

'I doubt whether either of us would live long enough to see that happy

day,' he said sarcastically. 'May I know what your salary is?' She told

him, and he sighed. 'Miss Mortimer, this is the real world, not some

fairy tale. It would take every penny you earn, and considerably more

besides, and leave you with nothing to live on. I don't think any house

is worth such a sacrifice, do you?'

'I don't think you understand. This is our home, and has been for

generations…'

'I understand perfectly. But the reign of the Mortimers was coming to

a halt anyway. Unless you or your sister plan to persuade your future

husbands to change their names to Mortimer to carry on the old

tradition?'

'I wasn't thinking particularly of Melanie or myself,' Alison said in a

low voice. 'But being turned out of her home will be incredibly hard

on my mother. She—she isn't very strong…'

'So I gather.' There was no softening in his face. 'I shall try and make

sure she receives every consideration. Or did you think I was going to

evict her bodily into some convenient blizzard?'

'I don't know what I thought,' Alison said wearily. 'But I do know that

nothing you can say or do will cushion this kind of blow, especially

following on from my father's death.'

'If your father had lived, he would have been bankrupt,' Nicholas

Bristow said harshly. 'I can't think that would have appealed to her

either. In the present circumstances, she can leave Ladymead with

dignity, and an income to maintain her, although it won't pay the

upkeep of another house of this size,' he added, rather grimly.

'I think I've managed to work that out for myself,' Alison said bitterly.

'The fact is, Mr Bristow, you saw this house and wanted it, and that's

why you won't consider any alternatives.'

'Unless you plan to come into a fortune, Miss Mortimer, there are no

alternatives,' he said. 'But let me assure you that my dealings with

your late father will remain private. As far as the outside world is

concerned, I am in the process of purchasing Ladymead from your

father's estate, as it's now too large for your family's needs.'

'Please don't expect me to be grateful.' Alison's chin lifted.

'No, I think I wrote off that possibility from the moment you entered

this room,' he returned grimly. 'Next time you want to ask favours,

Miss Mortimer, a softer approach might stand you in better stead.'

'I don't plan to approach you again for any cause whatsoever,' Alison

snapped. 'Goodbye, Mr Bristow.'

She went straight to her room and threw herself across the bed. She

wanted to scream and cry, and beat the mattress with her bare fists,

but she was beyond tears. After a long time she sat up slowly, staring

around her at all the dear familiar things which had surrounded her

since childhood. Nothing stayed the same for ever, she knew that, but

she hadn't expected the changes in her life to be so sudden, or so

far-reaching.

Presently she would have to go downstairs again, to be at her mother's

side when the bad news was broken to her, but first she needed to

think—to consider practical possibilities, so that she could make

some positive suggestions about how they could put the pieces of

their lives together.

And, if she was honest, she needed a breathing space before she could

face Nicholas Bristow again.

Alison's nails curled into the palms of her hands. This room no longer

seemed a sanctuary for her. Already, his presence seemed

everywhere. It made her writhe to remember him sitting on the edge

of her father's desk, master of all he surveyed. He'd lost no time in

making himself at home, she thought with angry bitterness.

But she had to admit that her suggestion that she might be able to buy

back the house somehow had been a ridiculous one, prompted by a

sense of sheer desperation.

She curled up against the pillows and began to think. Without her

housekeeping duties at Ladymead to take into account, she could

accept Simon's offer of full-time work, she thought, and the increase

in salary, plus her mother's annuity, would allow them a reasonable

standard of living.

She sighed soundlessly. Only Catherine Mortimer wasn't used to

reasonable standards. She'd been indulged and spoiled all her married

life, .with every expensive whim catered to. She would not take

kindly to any reduction in her level of spending.

And the other major problem was Melanie's school fees. She was

being considered, Alison knew, as a possible Oxford entrant, and it

was imperative for her education not to be disrupted.

But the cost of maintaining her at Mascombe Park was formidable.

Even if Simon were to make her a partner, she would still only be able

to afford a percentage of the cost, Alison thought forlornly. It was late

in the day to start thinking about scholarships, even if there were any

available. Yet Mel deserved her chance.

Reluctantly Alison uncurled and stood up. Problems were building up

like storm clouds, but there was no way to avoid in the inevitable

cloudburst, or even postpone it.

She held her head high as she went downstairs.

'Well, I think the sooner we leave Ladymead, the better,' Alison spoke

with quiet determination.

'But where can we go?' wailed Mrs Mortimer. Alison noted with

compassion that her mother's hands were shaking. Yet during that

long painful confrontation in the study, she had behaved with

amazing control and dignity, listening without comment as the

situation was outlined to her by a clearly embarrassed and unhappy

Alec Liddell.

Nicholas Bristow had had little to say too, she recalled, his dark face

almost sombre as he listened. She wondered if he had been feeling

any kind of compunction.

She said, 'I'll talk to Simon when I go back to work on Monday, and

see what he suggests. I know there's nothing very suitable on the

books at the moment, and he might advise renting somewhere for a

time.'

'Rented property?'
Mrs Mortimer couldn't have sounded more

anguished if Alison had suggested a tent in the middle of a ploughed

field.

She sighed. 'I don't see what other choice wehave. You surely don't

want to remain here on Nicholas Bristow's charity?'

'I can't imagine what he wants with a house like this,' her mother said

bitterly, it's far too large for a bachelor.'

'I don't suppose he's going to be a bachelor for much longer,' Melanie,

who had been sitting staring listlessly into the fire, roused herself to

say. 'There've been heaps of stories in the papers lately about him and

Hester Monclair. They reckon when her divorce goes through, they'll

be married. She's divorcing her husband for unreasonable behaviour,

and he's considering cross-petitioning for adultery, citing Nick

Bristow.' She giggled. 'That'll stir up this village!'

'Melanie!' Her mother spoke with sharp disapproval, her mind

diverted momentarily from her own troubles. 'Where in the world did

you learn all those distasteful things?'

'One of the women who cleans the dormitories brings in her Sunday