A Pearl for Love (3 page)

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Authors: Mary Cummins

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1973

BOOK: A Pearl for Love
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No, I

ll come back down,

offered Catherine.


She

s been ill,

James pointed out,

and she

s had a long journey. She ought to go to bed now.


Mrs.
Bannon has everything ready for you, my dear, and you can have whatever drink you like.

Suddenly Catherine did feel tired, her body heavy and her head beginning to ache a little.


All right
,’
she nodded.

I
...’


Ah, here are the children now
,’
cried Aunt Lucille, opening the door.

You

re just in time to say hello to Catherine. She

s going to bed after her journey.

Catherine looked curiously at Elizabeth Sheridan as she walked towards her. She was a tall girl, very thin and smart, with sharp features and smoothly coiled reddish-brown hair. She might have been plain but for her superb dress sense. Catherine

s eyes were full of admiration, thinking she had rarely seen anyone more striking.


How do you do
,’
she said, rather shyly, and found herself being weighed up dispassionately, as Elizabeth shook hands firmly.


How do you do, Catherine. I hope you had a good journey.

There was no real warmth in the welcome, but no animosity either. It was as though Elizabeth preferred to reserve judgement as to whether she really wanted to welcome Catherine or not.

Then John Sheridan strode forward, a tall loose
-
limbed young man with his sister

s piercing dark eyes, but a warm, rather lop-sided grin.


Hello, Catherine
,’
he greeted her.

Welcome to the fold. You

re a brave lass, taking us on
.’


Oh, John! I

m sure Catherine is most grateful
...
glad, I mean
...’


Grateful
,’
repeated John.

Don

t forget to be grateful, Kate. It

s expected of you.


Stop teasing, John
,’
said Elizabeth.

You

ll have the poor girl all confused
!’

Lucille

s cheeks were growing slightly pink, but John was laughing as his father walked bade downstairs.


You shouldn

t rise to the bait, darling
,’
he grinned, and James frowned.


Catherine is too fatigued for your jokes tonight, John,

he admonished.

Here

s
Mrs.
Bannon. She

s got everything ready for you, my dear
.’


A warm bath, then bed
,’
fussed Lucille.


This way, Miss Catherine
,’
said
Mrs.
Bannon, a hint of Irish in her accent.


Goodnight
,’
she said, a trifle awkwardly, following the stout, grey-haired woman.


Goodnight
!


You are a fool, John
...

Catherine could hear Elizabeth

s clear voice as she mounted the stairs. He

d told her not to forget to be grateful. Did that mean that she was going to be asked to pay for her new home and family? That, in fact, she was going to be an underpaid assistant?

It really didn

t matter, thought Catherine, when she saw her pretty bedroom, decorated in soft shades of lavender. It was the prettiest bedroom she had ever had, and she was glad it wasn

t pink. She had never cared for a pink bedroom.


It

s lovely,

she said to
Mrs.
Bannon.


Indeed it is,

the housekeeper beamed.

I

m sure we all hope you

ll be happy here, my dear.


I couldn

t ask for a warmer welcome,

the girl said. There was no need to summon up gratitude. It was all there of its own accord.

Eve
r
yone has been so kind.

But although her bed was soft as thistledown, and she felt warm and comfortable, sleep eluded her for many hours. She thought about the Sheridans, who were all now so close to her. Uncle James, who looked tired and worried when he was off guard; Aunt Lucille who was warm and soft as a small cat
...
cat? wondered Catherine. Didn

t she mean pigeon?

Then there was the smart, attractive Elizabeth, whose looks were so striking, and John Sheridan, with his teasing smile and his ready tongue. Somehow he was not the brisk and smartly competent young business man she had pictured when Uncle James told her he shared responsibility for the diamond jewellery in the shop. She couldn

t think of John as an expert on diamonds. Yet a young man, responsible for a large stock of diamonds
, would certainly not be a fool!

It was agreed that Catherine should stay at Balgower for two weeks, then start work at the shop in Newcastle, helping Miss Pryce with the cultured pearls. She looked forward to that, but knew the wisdom of resting for a further fortnight, as she still felt shaky, and tired easily.

It was a strange sort of fortnight, when she should have got to know her new family rather well, but somehow that didn

t happen. She learned that Aunt Lucille led a busy, social life and seemed to be rushing
off to various committee meetings.

Uncle James and John both seemed to work long hours, and Elizabeth kept rushing home to dress, and disappear again in her small white Mini, which she drove with little regard to her own safety, or to that of other road users.


She knocked down the garage doors the day she passed her test,

John informed Catherine solemnly.


It was your fault. You shut them after I had opened them, and I had no time
...’


To notice before flying in,

he agreed.

He often teased his sister, and she railed back at him, but Catherine was aware of a strong bond between them, and sometimes an odd sort of reserve, too, as though there were some things on which they had agreed to differ.

Elizabeth wore a beautiful solitaire diamond engagement ring, and was going to marry Michael Rodgers, whose father had started the business with Uncle James. Michael was at present in London, viewing some new designs in clocks and watches.


He was ill when the Fair was on at Earl

s Court last September,

John informed Catherine.

He took some sort of

flu bug, and he was disappointed. He wanted to see the new designs which were available, so now that we

re having a fairly quiet spell before Easter, Michael has gone to Birmingham, and on to London for a look-see.


I see,

said Catherine.

Is ... is his father dead now?


Yes.

John

s voice was rather brusque, and Catherine wondered if that was because of her own recent loss.

His father is dead and his mother married again. He lives on his own in a small flat above a shop.


Like me,

thought Catherine, feeling a strange affinity with the absent Michael Rodgers. They were both now beholden to the Sheridans for their livelihood, and their emotional needs.


So he

ll be some sort of junior partner?

she asked.

This time John was definitely cagey.


As I told you, he

s in charge of our watches and clocks,

he said flatly, and Catherine felt snubbed. She had no wish to pry further into the running of the firm than was necessary.


Elizabeth will be happy to see him back again
,’
she said, rather wistfully, thinking of the times when Philip had been away. And the times when he had returned.


I guess so.

Again John

s voice was offhand, and Catherine rose. She really did not want to discuss family affairs, so there was no need for him to be so off
-
putting.


I think I

ll go for a walk,

she announced.


Want me to come?


No, thank you.

Suddenly John was grinning.


Don

t be so stand-offish. Just let me get into my old duds and walking boots. You

d better change those shoes, too, and I

ll take you tramping across the fields. We

ll let the good Northumberland air blow on those pale cheeks of yours, and the roses will all bloom again. Oh, and I

ll ask Banny for some sandwiches.

Catherine hesitated for a moment. He was an odd and unpredictable young man, she thought. Sometimes he was so deep in thought and so seemingly competent, she felt almost afraid of him. Then he resembled nothing so much as a harum-scarum schoolboy, as he did shortly afterwards when he appeared in old jeans, an anorak, woolly cap and boots, his teeth already biting into an apple, a second one held out to Catherine.


That

s to save you nibbling the sandwiches before we

ve gone a quarter of a mile.

Catherine, too, had changed into black slacks and a scarlet anorak, her dark hair caught in a bow at the back, her vivid blue eyes suddenly sparkling.


I

m not hungry. Oh ... oh well
...’


Come on. Down to the vegetable garden and through the orchard. We

ll climb over the fence, then no one will see us eating our apples ... if that

s what you

re afraid of. And take off that hair bow. Let your hair down a little. You

re so stiff
a
nd formal with us.

Stiff and formal? When she got snubbed if she as much as said the wrong thing?

It was no use arguing, she thought, shaking her long hair free, and feeling the wind blowing it round her cheeks. It really was exhilarating, she thought, as John caught her hand and they clambered over marshy ground, stopping occasionally to look at vast sweeps of landscape, which was already holding great charm for her.


It looks
...
timeless,

she said.


Ever seen the Roman Wall
?’

She shook her head.

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