Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (8 page)

‘Of course you’re not.’

‘It’s just so nice talking about Laurence. I don’t often get the chance. And please think about coming to New York.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, ‘if you like. But I really can’t come.’

Barty took a taxi back to the Warwick house to collect Jenna; everyone was out and she sat in the drawing room drinking tea and trying to recover her equilibrium. Disturbing memories, vivid, violent memories, were always painful. Not to mention thinking about Jenna, and hoping, as she did almost every day, that she was doing the right thing in claiming nothing for her. And confronting her fear: that one day Jenna might come to think for herself that she was entitled to some of her father’s fortune.

‘And this is Jenna. Jenna, this is your uncle Billy, and your aunt Joan.’

‘How do you do.’ Jenna held out her hand to each of them in turn, smiling politely. However unsuccessful Barty’s attempts at discipline had been in other areas of Jenna’s life, she had at least succeeded in drilling her in perfectly formal, English manners.

‘Pleased to meet you, Jenna.’ Billy shook her hand. ‘You’re bigger than I expected.’

‘Everyone says that. I’m told my father was tall, too. You didn’t meet him, I suppose?’

Her voice was hopeful; so few of her mother’s friends and family had met her father, he was still a mysterious, shadowy figure, familiar to her only through photographs – and her mother didn’t even have very many of those. Her uncle Jamie talked to her about him, of course, but only in a rather careful, formal way, and Grandpa Robert was very difficult to draw on the subject. She wished passionately that she knew more about him; as she grew older it seemed increasingly important. To say there was a mystery about him was going a bit far; but it was certainly true that there were a lot of blank spaces in the picture she was trying to build up of him.

‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I’d have liked to, of course. But he never got down here—’

‘Silly him.’ She looked round her and smiled; she was enchanted by it, by the square stone house, the rather untidy garden and the great stretch of countryside that went with it, the big fields, the hedges, the woodland, and, just below the house, the large stable block. ‘It’s lovely here, I really like it.’

‘Good. Well we think it’s lovely too.’

Jenna smiled at her. She liked Joan. She was large and cosy, with big strong arms and a tangle of dark hair, flecked with grey. She liked Billy too, but he was less smiley, and he had a way of studying you carefully as if he was making up his mind about you.

‘Where are your boys?’

‘They’re at school. They’ll be home at half past three. Sorry about that, bit boring for you, but by the time we’ve had lunch and Billy’s maybe shown you the horses, your mum says you like horses—’

‘I do, I love them. I ride in Central Park and of course on the shore on Long Island.’

‘Well, we can probably manage a ride for you here. If you’d like that.’

‘Oh, yes please. And I’d really like to drive a tractor.’

‘Jenna – ’ said Barty warningly.

Joan laughed. ‘Drive a tractor? Well now, that might be a bit awkward, you not having done it before. But one of the boys could give you a ride, I dare say.’

‘Do they drive it?’

‘Well, Joe does. Never too young to drive a tractor, that’s what Bill says, isn’t it, love? Once you can reach the pedals, of course.’

‘How old is Joe?’

‘He’s nearly twelve. But he’s a big lad. Now then, are you both going to come along in, have something to eat?’

‘I’d rather see the horses,’ said Jenna, ‘and have a ride.’

‘Jenna, not before lunch,’ said Barty firmly. ‘We’ve only just arrived.’

Jenna scowled at her. ‘Joan said Billy would show me the horses.’

‘Yes, when it suits him. I’m sure he’s busy now.’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Billy. ‘Not specially, anyway. Don’t know about a ride now but we can take a look.’ He grinned at Jenna. She grinned back, and then triumphantly met her mother’s eyes.

There were over a dozen horses in the yard; a couple of very big hunters, two or three smaller ones, some ponies of various sizes and beyond them, in the paddock, two great shire horses.

‘That one belongs to Elspeth Warwick,’ said Billy, pointing to a very pretty little bay. ‘She comes down and rides him whenever she can.’

‘He’s lovely,’ said Jenna. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Florian. Bit fancy is Elspeth, but she can’t half ride. Like her ladyship, I always tell her.’

‘I like those,’ said Jenna, pointing to the shires, ‘they’re like giant horses.’

‘They are indeed,’ said Billy. ‘We used them in the war, when petrol was so scarce. The grey, we called him Lord B after his lordship. Although they’re getting on a bit, I still work them sometimes.’

‘For furrowing?’ said Jenna.

‘How do you know about furrowing?’

‘My mother told me.’

‘I didn’t know she had any knowledge of such things. Just her books and so on.’

‘Oh my mother knows about everything,’ said Jenna airily.

Over lunch, the conversation turned to Lord Arden; Billy asked what he was like. Her mother said carefully that Lord Arden was very nice, very charming.

‘Yes, yes, but what’s he really like?’

‘Billy—’ said Joan in a certain voice. And Jenna knew what that was about: not in front of the children.

‘He’s OK,’ she said, cutting in, ‘quite kind and smiling. But he doesn’t say much.’

‘I don’t suppose the poor chap gets much of a chance,’ said Billy, laughing. ‘All those Lytton women round him.’

Jenna smiled at him.

‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he has much to say, even if no women at all were there. I don’t actually think he’s very clever,’ she added, and then looked anxiously at Joan, who appeared to be having a coughing fit.

Her mother said ‘Jenna’ in the voice she used when she was about to be cross, but wasn’t quite; Jenna looked at her.

‘What? He’s not here, he can’t hear me saying that. He’s not nearly as clever as Aunt Celia, really he isn’t.’

‘Jenna, I’ve told you before not to talk about people.’

‘But—’

‘Come along Jenna,’ said Billy, standing up. ‘Let’s go and get this pony saddled up.’

She had a wonderful ride on a pretty little pony called Coffee; Billy led her round the paddock once, but she managed to convince him that she was perfectly able to handle him herself.

‘And you can’t find it easy running with your false leg,’ she said.

Billy grinned at her. ‘Don’t ever think about it,’ he said. ‘Part of me, that leg. Don’t know what I’d do if the other grew back.’

‘Might it?’ said Jenna. ‘It must be quite – sad for you without it.’

‘Not a bit of it. I owe everything to losing that leg, hasn’t your mum ever told you?’

‘Yes, she has. How Lady Beckenham looked after you and gave you a job in the stables. I wish I’d met her.’

‘You remind me of her,’ he said, ‘just a bit.’

She was flying around the paddock on Coffee when she heard a shout; the boys had arrived at the gate and joined their father. She reined the pony in, cantered over to them, sat smiling at them. ‘He’s so lovely, I’d take him back to America with me if I could. I’m Jenna.’

‘You’d better not,’ said Joe. ‘I learned to ride on him. He’s mine.’

‘Joe – ’ said his father.

‘Of course I can’t,’ said Jenna earnestly. She studied Joe. She liked him. He was a big, rather gangly boy, with light-brown untidy curly hair and blue eyes, like his mother; his face was smiling and comfortable like hers as well. Michael looked more like Billy, darker and more serious, with the same way of studying you intently and summing you up.

Michael trailed after her and Joe as they walked towards the paddock where the big old shires were. Jenna was fascinated by them; she had never seen such huge animals in her life.

‘I’ve got some carrots,’ said Joe. ‘Here, give them a piece. Hold your hand flat.’

‘I know,’ said Jenna coolly. She looked up at the horses. The grey bent its great head over her small hand and took the carrot gently. She smiled.

‘He’s a real gent, is Lord B,’ said Joe. ‘Nice manners, Dad says.’

‘I wish I could ride him.’

‘You’d never even get up. Anyway, he’s not got a saddle.’

‘I could ride him bareback.’

‘Course you couldn’t.’

‘I could.’

‘You’re mad,’ said Michael.

‘I’m not.’

‘You are. And you’re a girl,’ he added, as if that settled matters.

‘Well I’ll show you,’ said Jenna.

She climbed up on to the gate, stood swaying slightly, grasped Lord B’s mane and half slithered, half jumped on to his back. He trembled slightly, and she felt his muscles quiver under her. He was so huge that her short legs were spread almost straight across his back. She grasped the mane further up, wriggled a bit and looked down at the boys triumphantly.

‘I told you so.’

All might have been well had not a large horsefly suddenly settled on Lord B’s rump. He jumped, kicked out with one of his back legs and swished his tail. In a smaller animal the movements would have been slight; for him they were considerable. Jenna felt him lurch, and started to slither sideways; she clung to the mane, looked down. The ground looked a long way away. She tried to haul herself up again, but couldn’t regain her balance; she was pulling quite hard now on Lord B’s mane. He began to find it irritating, and moved forward; she clung on, pulling harder still. Lord B blew through his nostrils and launched into a brisk trot. For ten, maybe fifteen seconds, Jenna managed to stay on him, then slowly and quite gracefully she fell to the ground. As she fell, she put out her hand instinctively to save herself and fell awkwardly on her wrist. Very awkwardly.

Two hours later, after having her wrist set quite painfully in the local cottage hospital, facing one round of her mother’s wrath, and knowing there was more to come, after being ticked off quite severely by Billy as well, and enduring the double misery of hearing Joe being unfairly told off, she still felt the whole episode was entirely worthwhile as she heard Joe say to his father, ‘She’s the bravest girl I ever met. Even if she is stupid.’

She found it quite easy to ignore everyone’s wrath after that; and when she got on to the plane to New York three days later with her arm in a sling, his words were still ringing in her head.

Record
were very pleased with Adele’s Coronation photographs. They gave her fourteen pages, and the cover.

‘Maman, let me see.’ Noni reached out her hand for the magazine; as it was passed across the table, Lucas lifted the newspaper he was reading to turn to another page and knocked the coffee pot over.

‘Lucas, you oaf. Oh, God, that’s awful, Mummy I’m so sorry, all over it. You stupid idiot, how did you do that?’

‘Quite easily.’ Geordie’s voice, usually so level and good-natured was icy cold. ‘I saw that Lucas. Apologise to your mother.’

‘It was an accident,’ said Lucas sulkily.

‘Even if it was’ – Geordie’s voice made it plain he didn’t think so – ‘you can still say you’re sorry. That is her first edition, and the only one she has at the moment.’

‘She can get another. It’s a magazine, not some priceless painting. No doubt there’ll be a dozen in the house soon. What does it matter?’

‘It matters a great deal,’ said Geordie. ‘Please apologise.’

‘I don’t see why I should.’

‘Well I do. Lucas—’

‘Geordie, it’s all right.’ Adele gave him a quick, anxious smile. ‘Honestly. It was an accident.’

‘It is not all right, and I don’t believe it was an accident. Lucas, if you can’t apologise, please go to your room.’

‘No. I don’t have to do what you say. You’re not my father.’

‘Lucas!’ said Adele. ‘That was very rude.’

‘It was true.’

‘Please apologise to Geordie.’

‘I won’t. And I’m going to school now. Where people care about slightly more important things than yet more photographs of that bloody Coronation.’

‘Lucas—’

But he was gone. Geordie stood up; he was white with rage.

‘Geordie—’

‘Adele, just leave this to me, will you? I will not tolerate this behaviour.’

‘It won’t do any—’

But the door had closed behind Geordie; there was shouting from the hall, then a loud slam as the front door banged. Adele and Noni looked at each other.

‘Oh, Maman – ’

‘Oh, Noni – ’

‘My dear, whatever is the matter? I hate to see you so distressed. Please tell me.’

‘Kit absolutely refuses to come and visit me,’ Celia’s face was swollen with crying as she looked at Lord Arden. ‘And I can’t bear it. I really can’t. I love him so much and—’

‘Go on.’

‘No. No, that’s it.’

How could she tell him? That she had wanted so badly to explain to Kit exactly why she had married Bunny. The tortuous, difficult reasons. And that he had refused all her invitations to hear any of them.

‘He’ll get over it, Celia. Of course he will. He’s young, they always come round in the end.’

‘He’s not that young, Bunny.’ She wiped her eyes, reached for a cigarette. ‘He’s thirty-three. And he’s very – steely. Always has been.’

‘And – your favourite?’

‘What? No, no of course not.’

He was: of course. Being the youngest, the most brilliant and beautiful, the most charming, the one who had loved her the best. And—

‘Yes he is. Come on, you can admit it to me. It’s not a crime. Any fool can see you don’t get on with Giles. And the twins, they obviously come first with each other, always will. No, Kit has your heart, Celia, and I don’t wonder at it. I still remember him as a little chap, sitting on your knee, telling you you were pretty, making you laugh.’

‘He wouldn’t tell me I was pretty now,’ said Celia, managing to smile.

‘Well, never mind. As I say, I’m sure he’ll get over it.’

‘Bunny, don’t keep saying that, please.’

Her tone was sharp; Lord Arden looked at her nervously. He was coming to know that tone very well. It hadn’t been something he had really heard before they were married. He decided to go to his club. She’d calm down. And when she did, he would tell her of the trip he had arranged, to hear Callas sing in Vienna. That would take her mind off her troublesome family. That and a piece of jewellery he had spotted for her in the window of Aspreys. He didn’t normally like modern jewellery but this was exquisite, a diamond and sapphire bracelet, so wide it was almost a cuff. He might go and secure it now, on the way to his club.