Just Rewards. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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TWO
‘The three clans stand together as one family. Harte, O’Neill and Kallinski against all foes.’
Emma Harte, A Woman of Substance
Linnet wished she could go up to the moors, but she knew that it was impossible this morning. Snow had fallen during the night and the hills soaring above her along the rim of the horizon were topped with glistening white.
She had to admit that it would be unbearably cold on the ‘tops’, as the locals called the highest parts of the moorland and the high fells that dropped down into the Dales. The snow would make them impossible to traverse, and then there was the wind. It was always blowing up there, even in the best of weather, and today it was bound to be a bitterly cold wind.
For as long as she could remember Linnet had loved the moors above Pennistone Royal, the lovely, ancient house in Yorkshire where she had been born, and which had belonged to her great-grandmother, Emma Harte.
One day it would be hers. Her mother had told her that in great confidence. It was a big secret; no one else could know.
When she was still only a toddler, her mother had taken her up there to play amongst the heather and bracken, under a perfect sky as blue as the tiny speedwells growing in the lower fields below in the warm weather.
The moors were Linnet’s special place, her haven whenever something ailed her. Her mother had told her a long time ago that she had inherited Emma’s love of them.
‘You’re just like Grandy,’ Paula would often tell her, smiling indulgently. ‘Whenever you get a chance, you go rushing up there, especially when you’re troubled or worried about something. That’s exactly what your great-grandmother did for her entire life.’
Linnet was beset by problems on this chilly Saturday morning, all manner of troubling thoughts jostling around in her head. Sighing, she walked down the gravel path towards the Rhododendron Walk, and tried to sort out her worries in the order of their importance.
Uppermost in her mind at this moment was Jonathan Ainsley. A short while ago, Jack Figg had phoned to tell her that Ainsley was no longer in London but now staying at his house in Thirsk, and his very presence in the vicinity made her feel uneasy. Jack always called him a loose cannon and the idea that he might well be just that frightened her. It put her on her guard.
Then there was the situation with Evan’s family. Uncle Robin had invited them all to stay with him for the wedding, and this was now suddenly alarming Jack, alerting him to trouble. He had voiced the thought that each and every one of them would be ‘sitting ducks’, should Jonathan Ainsley decide to pay an unexpected visit to his father at Lackland Priory.
‘But he can’t shoot them dead,’ she had countered, ‘all he can do actually, Jack, is to be very rude to them, and nasty to his father. Uncle Robin’s used to that by now, I should think.’
‘Couldn’t they be accommodated elsewhere for the duration of the wedding festivities?’ Jack had asked, and she had then suggested he speak to her mother about this. ‘I suppose they could stay with us at Pennistone Royal,’ she had gone on swiftly, ‘or with Aunt Emily and Uncle Winston in Middleham. Allington Hall is big enough. But Mummy’ll know best. Mind you, Uncle Robin won’t like it if she interferes with his plans, that I can tell you.’
Jack had answered that Paula was head of the family and he was going to call her the moment he rang off. And then he did just that, muttering, ‘And what she says goes.’
Linnet had nodded to herself as she had replaced the receiver, thinking Jack was right.
Apart from Jonathan Ainsley, Paula’s cousin and the family’s bitterest enemy, Linnet was somewhat concerned about Evan. Thankfully she was all right, and there were no problems with the babies, but that curious fall still puzzled her.
Evan was the most nimble person she knew, and moved around with a unique kind of elegance and grace, and Linnet couldn’t for the life of her understand how Evan had missed the seat of the chair, hit the floor the way she had. It both baffled and bothered her.
Evan and Gideon had arrived at Pennistone Royal on Thursday, earlier than originally planned, and last night she had spoken to Evan about her fall when she and Julian had arrived and had supper with them.
Evan had laughed it off when Linnet had started to gently probe, and so she had let the subject slide away without making any further comment. What truly disturbed Linnet was the remembrance, so clearly etched in her mind, of Angharad standing over Evan in her office, looking down at her, doing nothing to help.
There had been such an odd expression in Angharad’s eyes Linnet had done a double-take, had given her a longer, harder stare, and had been discomfited when she recognized that Evan’s adopted sister was actually looking gleeful. Linnet had not failed to miss the inherent spite in her at that moment, and was enormously troubled by the strangeness of this young woman and her sudden appearance on the scene.
Angharad Hughes had not been due to come to London until next week. She bears watching, Linnet now decided, shrugging further into her cape, increasing her pace down the hill. I wouldn’t put anything past her … she spells trouble.
When Linnet had arrived at Pennistone Royal last night her mother had asked her to stay for the whole of the coming week, so that she could help with Evan’s wedding. ‘Evan can’t possibly do much, darling,’ Paula had pointed out. ‘She’s so very pregnant, and after that awful fall in her office, Emily and I don’t think she should be exerting herself, or doing anything physically stressful.’
Immediately, Linnet had agreed to stay on at Pennistone Royal to help her mother. They were close and always had been, and whenever she could ease Paula’s burdens Linnet tried to do so.
Earlier in the week, Linnet had considered talking to her mother about making certain changes at the store in Knightsbridge, but now she realized this was hardly the right time for such an important and delicate discussion. That must wait until after Evan’s marriage to Gideon next Saturday, only a week away.
The wedding was distracting her mother as much as it was Aunt Emily, mother of the groom. So how could she start bringing up old-fashioned windows that needed a fresh approach to suit the changing times? Or explain the importance of having a spa or suggest the innovative idea of devoting an entire floor to brides and weddings?
Surely her words would fall on deaf ears? Or if they didn’t, they would certainly irritate her mother no end. Paula seemed set in her ways these days, much to Linnet’s chagrin, and change appalled her.
Put it on hold, she muttered to herself, and continued on her way, heading closer to the walk. This had been created by her mother over thirty-five years ago or more, and she had designed it for Emma Harte. The Rhododendron Walk at Temple Newsam, a stately home near Leeds, had been the inspiration, and Paula had copied it down to the last detail, inveterate gardener that she was.
In the summer months it was quite extraordinary to behold, the glossy leaves of the rhododendron bushes alive with colour from the giant flowers … white, lilac and pale pink giving way to tints of dark-rose and purple. The flowery bower was breathtaking at that particular time of the year; now, in winter, the glossy green leaves were speckled with frozen snowflakes and tiny icicles.
At one moment, Linnet stopped and glanced up at the sky. It was forbidding, curdled and cold. The wind was beginning to blow the steel-grey clouds away and quite suddenly a pale sun was visible, a pale-silver orb against the expanse of blue floating above. She was used to the sudden changes in the weather in Yorkshire, especially in the Dales where she had grown up. Rain was prevalent throughout the year; but apparently, it wasn’t going to be a wet gloomy day after all, and this pleased