Penmort Castle (66 page)

This wasn’t,
Cash knew, exactly true.

Jenny’s baby
had seven and three-quarter months of gestation.

Cash’s eyes
swept Abby’s body in her form-fitting, very elegant, demurely sexy,
plum-coloured dress complimented by rich suede, charcoal grey,
spike-heeled boots.

She was also
wearing the diamond bracelet he’d given her which she wore daily, a
modest (but not too modest) diamond pendant hung from a delicate
platinum chain and lay in the indentation of her throat and
double-diamond drop earrings hung from her ears.

The necklace
he’d bought her in France during their first holiday together on
the Riviera. The earrings he’d given her during a dinner they’d
shared when she’d been on a business trip with him in Rome six
months previously.

Cash should
probably diversify into giving her different precious jewels but he
found he liked her wearing his diamonds.

His eyes
stopped at her boots and distractedly he wished, as usual (however
at that present time most especially, considering his wife’s
condition), that she wouldn’t wear those fucking high heels.

He let go of
this wish, knowing it was in vain and finally his gaze moved up and
settled on the small, but becoming more noticeable by the day, baby
bump at her belly.

Cash, after
copious amounts of research once Abby told him she was pregnant,
knew the extra three weeks Abby wasn’t declaring of Jenny’s
pregnancy meant a great deal to the outcome of that afternoon’s
events.

Cash also knew
that for the first time in decades Abby and Jenny’s relationship
had turned on its head.

Jenny’s
pregnancy had been difficult from the start. She’d been
tremendously ill in the beginning, incapacitated with morning
sickness, crippling migraines and terrified by intermittent
cramping and spotting.

These symptoms
lasted well into the second trimester and there were two very
legitimate scares when she’d stopped spotting and started
bleeding.

Both times it
was Abby who rushed her to the hospital.

Absolute bed
rest was prescribed during the last trimester. This was, under
Abby’s edict and Nicola’s urging both firm and forceful which
brought about Kieran’s acceptance, happened at Penmort and was
accompanied by Abby’s and Nicola’s near constant companionship. It
was also a strategy that obviously didn’t work.

Jenny had gone
into labour four hours ago.

Even though
labour had begun at Penmort, Kieran had called Cash to ask for him
to return from his Saturday morning in his new office in Exeter
instead of telling Abby this news.

This was a
kindness for which Cash was grateful. Cash didn’t want Abby
anywhere near the steering wheel of a car in her present state.

As Cash watched
his wife, his mind wandered over the last several months.

Jenny had been
used to taking care of Abby through her many dramas. Abby had been
used to being taken care of. This change in the state of affairs
had altered their relationship in a way Cash didn’t quite
understand.

Women, he
decided some time ago, were baffling to the point where it was
futile for a man even to attempt to comprehend.

So he
didn’t.

What he did
understand was that Jenny was a strong and capable woman who didn’t
like having to be taken care of. Cash had grown to admire this
greatly.

Abby, on the
other hand, was beside herself with glee that she had an
opportunity to pay Jenny back for all her care and attention. And
this she did with an enthusiasm akin to religion.

They clashed
frequently more than likely because Jenny was frightened and trying
to hide it and Abby even more so.

Cash and Kieran
steered well clear. They often found themselves together, in the
beginning in Kieran’s office in his home, in the end in the
billiards room at Penmort drinking whisky and letting their wives
(more often than not
loudly
, in another room) sort through
their relationship turmoil.

Abby was not
beside herself with glee at the circumstances. For seven and
three-quarter months she had been functioning on adrenalin and very
slim hope and not succeeding by any stretch of the imagination at
keeping her fear at bay.

His wife
unfortunately had been conditioned to the fact that if something
bad could happen, it would.

“Darling,” Cash
called, putting aside his papers and making an effort at
controlling her fear, an effort he knew was doomed to fail but he
made it all the same, “sit down.”

“No,” was her
swift, sharp retort.

Mrs. Truman
chuckled.

Cash tried not
to smile.

At that moment
Nicola walked in bearing a cardboard tray of gourmet coffees.

“Any news?” she
asked.

“No,” Abby
repeated just as swiftly and sharply and Nicola’s eyes flew to
Cash.

Cash gave a
short shake of his head and Nicola pressed her lips together.

She handed out
the coffees she’d gone to a local shop to purchase after Mrs.
Truman declared that hospital coffee would
simply
not do and
approached Abby, putting her hand on Abby’s arm.

“My dear, you
really must try to relax. You’re not doing your own baby any
favours by getting upset,” Nicola advised.

“How do you
propose I do that, Nicci? She’s my best friend!” Abby ended on a
cry.

Cash watched
Nicola’s hand squeeze Abby’s arm comfortingly.

It still amused
him that Abby called Nicola “Nicci”. Nicola was
not
a Nicci.
However, Nicola didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

Over the last
several months Nicola’s daughters had moved out of the castle
one-by-one. They’d all had jobs since Cash had been reunited with
the family, Fenella’s part-time. However Fenella found a new,
higher paid, full-time job in Plymouth and was the first to go.
Suzanne had received a promotion and a transfer to Bristol. She was
the second to leave and was renting Abby’s long since fully
restored grandmother’s home in Clevedon, an idea Cash had suggested
to Abby, which she’d adored, thrilled to have a “family member”
residing in her beloved home. Honor moved out only the month
before. She was now sharing a flat in Exeter with her
boyfriend.

Cash decided
they did this because they were free, finally, to leave their
mother and live their lives because Nicola was now safe.

Coming to this
understanding caused Cash no small amount of guilt that for a year
he had entirely misread the Fitzhugh women. He had been so wrapped
up in his retribution against Alistair that he had not caught on to
what was happening and moved far more swiftly to end their
mistreatment.

Although he
shared this with Abby, who urged him to let go of his blame (which
he did not), he did not share it with the others nor, at his
request, did Abby.

He would, as
was his nature, demonstrate his remorse by making certain Nicola
Fitzhugh was safe, protected and happy for the rest of her
days.

Nicola had
taken a part-time job in a local shop but she had, Cash knew, no
intention of leaving the castle. It had finally become her home,
something which Cash made clear and Abby made clearer. But also she
seemed intent on raining love and affection on Cash and Abby, the
kind Cash never had and Abby had lost.

He decided this
was likely her way of paying for what Alistair had stolen from
Cash, a responsibility she did not bear but assumed all the
same.

Cash also
decided she just simply loved Abby.

As this fit in
with his plan, he let Nicola continue her endeavours
unhindered.

Abby and Nicola
had offered Penmort to the National Trust, opening it to the public
for six months of the year on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and
alternating weekends.

Cash had not
liked this decision and had only been cursorily involved in it.

He found,
somewhat to his annoyance, but mostly to his amusement, that his
wife and aunt regularly teamed up to steamroll him with some rather
bizarre capers. These capers, Cash knew, were likely
always
instigated by Abby and she simply took Nicola along for the
ride.

However Cash
also knew Nicola was having the time of her life.

Therefore he
didn’t resist.

Much.

He found to his
surprise that he not only didn’t mind his home being open to the
public, he liked it. The castle was so popular due to its beauty,
history and the “myth” of Vivianna made stronger by the many
reports of her appearance at the anniversary dinner, some of which
were printed in newspapers and magazines, that the National Trust
had to do viewings by appointment only. That meant his family was
not overwhelmed with visitors. Anyone who came had a genuine desire
to see the property and were thus utterly respectful. He enjoyed
their interest, his legacy was rather extraordinary and he found he
liked sharing it.

When he
confided this to Abby she didn’t say she told him so but she gave
him a look that said it.

Cash looked to
the door as Suzanne sauntered in looking stylish in a tailored,
black, wool overcoat.

James followed
her looking peeved.

Mrs. Truman
glanced at them, her eyes turned to Cash and they shared a
smile.

Suzanne and
James had met during the planning of Abby and Cash’s small, but
elaborate (the latter, at Cash’s command),
family-and-close-friends-only wedding.

Suzanne had
found a way to leave the bitch behind.

She had,
however, retained a certain coolness and cynicism which was not in
the least unattractive.

His friend
James immediately found this intriguing and had begun his pursuit
just as immediately.

James was used
to success, rapid success.

Therefore James
was surprised then frustrated then annoyed, albeit not deterred,
when his aims had not been achieved after months of concentrated
effort.

Cash knew,
because Suzanne had confided in Abby who had confided in him, that
Suzanne was in love with his best friend.

He did not
share this with James, however.

He didn’t
because he didn’t want to break Suzanne’s confidence with Abby.

He also didn’t
because Suzanne’s reasons for keeping her love from James were a
test James would have to pass unaided.

Suzanne had
been cruelly abused and mishandled for twenty-five years by
Alistair, something else she confided in Abby who then told Cash,
sharing that Alistair had been verbally abusive to all the Fitzhugh
women but for some reason he saved his worst for Suzanne and dished
it out with heartbreaking regularity.

Therefore James
would have to win her trust on his own.

Cash had no
doubt this would happen.

Suzanne who, to
Cash’s surprise, had formed the closest of the three sisters’ very
close bonds with his wife, took one look at Abby and her face grew
pale. Then her eyes moved to Cash.

They were soft
and filled with concern and Cash thought, not for the first time
since that night at Penmort, that he was quite happy Alistair was
in prison for being behind the now proven murder of his father (the
investigation was again opened) and his attempt on Cash’s life.
Suzanne had confessed her love to him but had been unable to share
her true self when he’d entered her life. If she had he might have
been tempted.

Then again,
that would have meant he wouldn’t have met Abby.

As lovely and
interesting as Suzanne was now, Cash knew without a doubt he’d
still have a hole in his life if Abby wasn’t in it even if he’d
never met her.

They were
simply meant to be.

He understood
this was a ludicrously romantic notion.

And he didn’t
give a fuck.

“Please don’t
ask how things are going,” Abby, standing with her arm around
Nicola as well as in the curve of Nicola’s arm, begged Suzanne.

“I wouldn’t
dream of it, love,” Suzanne murmured, took off her coat and threw
it on a chair. She sat beside Mrs. Truman and mumbled under her
breath, “Abby’s obviously in a state. I sincerely hope you’re
behaving yourself.”

Mrs. Truman’s
eyebrows shot up, her hand came to her chest and she mouthed the
word, “Me?” as if she was at all times the soul of kindness,
affection and love.

It took a great
effort of will for Cash not to burst out laughing.

“Yes, you,”
Suzanne returned.

Mrs. Truman
made a “pah” noise but said no more and Suzanne rolled her eyes at
Cash.

With great
energy and dedication, Mrs. Truman had insinuated herself in the
lives of all of Cash and Abby’s family.

With alarming
frequency, she was domineering, cantankerous and interfering.

With complete
consistency, she was also unwaveringly loyal.

James threw his
overcoat on a chair and sat beside Cash.

Cash turned his
head to his friend and took off his reading glasses.

“How are
things?” he asked.

James knew to
what, or more precisely, to whom he was referring.

“Last night, I
made progress,” James answered.

“Good,” Cash
murmured.

“This morning,
I lost it,” James went on.

Cash
chuckled.

James’s voice
dropped low. “Last night she told me some of what Alistair did to
her. I’m guessing not all. Do you know what he did? The things he
said?
”

Cash regarded
his friend and remained silent. James accurately read and deferred
to Cash’s unspoken demonstration of loyalty to Suzanne.

“I’d like to
know how, exactly, you stopped yourself from hunting that bastard
down and committing murder,” James enquired, his voice still low
and quiet but now it was vibrating with a barely controlled but
understandable fury.

“His punishment
is longer this way,” Cash replied.