Scandals. PENNY JORDAN
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expecting me to, and I could sit out whilst the others ski.’ Of course she wasn’t going to say anything about Tom, but it was the thought of not seeing him that was making her feel sick and miserable.’
‘Well…’ Drogo began, but Emerald shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly, Katie. Of course you can’t go. What would be the point? And apart from anything else, your father and I would never have a moment’s peace, worrying about you, if you did.’
Somehow, after that, David’s, ‘I’ve put the fairy on the top of the tree for you,’ wasn’t as comforting as it might have been. She wasn’t going to be able to go to Klosters. Zoë would be furious with her – she was furious with herself; furious and miserable.
‘At least it’s not your right arm, darling,’ Amber tried to cheer up her granddaughter, ‘and you’re welcome to stay on with us, you know, until your parents get back from Australia. I know it won’t be as much fun as Switzerland.’
Katie forced a wan smile, whilst over her head Emerald gave her mother a grateful look.
‘If you’re sure it won’t be too much for you and Jay, Mummy, that would be wonderful.’
‘Emerald, I am seventy-nine not ninety-nine,’ Amber pointed out with a touch of asperity in her voice. ‘It will be a good opportunity for me to do something about sorting out some of the old records of our fabrics. I’ve been meaning to do it for ages. It will be a step towards organising that archive you’ve been talking about, Katie. Jay and I salvaged snippets of fabric and wallpaper from Felton Priory before it was sold, and they are really interesting.’
Staying on here at Denham would be much better than being at home in London on her own, Katie knew, but it wouldn’t be Klosters. Even so, she forced herself to look appreciative, knowing that under almost any other circumstances she’d have been thrilled by such an opportunity.
Family tradition meant that everyone had an early night after their arrival, and with Katie back from hospital, those mothers with young children started to gather them up ready for baths and bed.
‘I’ll come up with you and Sam, Mum,’ Olivia told Ella. ‘I need to collect my case from your room, and hand over some parcels to Santa,’ she added with a smile in her younger brother’s direction, laughing when he gave her a scathing look and told her, ‘I’m fourteen years old. I stopped believing in Father Christmas when I was six.’
Laughing back, Olivia ruffled his hair and teased, ‘So does that mean you don’t want any presents then?’
Ella hadn’t intended to start asking questions – after all, Olivia would tell her if there was anything she wanted her to know – but it was impossible for her to stop herself from commenting lightly, once Sam was in bed in the room he was sharing with Jamie, and Ella and Olivia were back in Ella and Oliver’s room, ‘You and Robert seem to be getting on well.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s natural that we should gravitate towards one another. After all, we are the eldest members of our generation.’
Olivia’s airy response did more to increase Ella’s concern for her daughter than to reduce it. That kind of evasion just wasn’t like Olivia.
‘Has he said anything to you about his visit to Lauranto? Sooner or later he’s going to have to decide whether or not he wants to succeed Alessandro and become Crown Prince, and if he does—’
‘He picked me up from the airport, Mom, that’s all. I hope everyone’s going to like their Christmas presents. Oh, and you’ll never guess who I saw just after I’d dropped off my piece to Vanity Fair.’
Olivia plainly wanted to change the subject.
‘Who?’ Ella asked her.
‘Tait Cabot Forbes,’ Olivia grimaced, explaining when Ella didn’t respond, ‘You know, that dreadful journo who wrote about Maisie changing her will, and you and Dad.’
‘Yes, I know who you mean, darling, but once your father had spoken with him privately and explained the situation he didn’t pursue the matter.’
‘No, but he didn’t apologise in print for what he’d said either, did he?’
‘Well, he couldn’t really, could he? Not when your father had said that what he told him was in the strictest confidence.’
Ella gave her daughter a loving smile. Olivia was extremely loyal to those she loved – it was one of her strongest characteristics and a lovely one – but sometimes it made it hard for her to accept that life was not always black or white but came in various shades of grey
‘Tait is a journalist,’ Ella reminded Olivia, ‘and a very good one, and he was only doing his job, after all.’
Olivia nodded. But no matter what her mother said she was not prepared to forgive Tait Cabot Forbes for the way he had publicly tried to accuse her parents of doing something wrong, and she would certainly never forget it.
His whole article had been based on supposition, suspicion and spite. In it he had tried to claim that her parents must have put undue pressure on their elderly friend Maisie Fischerbaum to change her will, cutting out the trustees to whom she had originally entrusted her estate, and instead appointing Ella and Oliver as the sole trustees of her billion-dollar foundation, and responsible for deciding which charitable causes would benefit from it. The fact that she had made this change in her ninetieth year, using a new solicitor and without saying a word to the original trustees, had led to a good deal of gossip behind the scenes about her decision and her parents’ involvement with her, Olivia knew. However, she also knew that the reason Maisie had changed her will was because she had been devastated to discover that shortly after the death of an old friend of hers, his trustees had ignored his wishes and used his money in ways of which he would not have approved. After that Maisie felt that the only people she could trust were Olivia’s parents. They had tried to reassure her, but Maisie had refused to change her mind, and the new will was drawn up in secrecy at her insistence. The original trustees hadn’t done anything illegal and Maisie had been worried that if it got out that she no longer trusted them to carry out her wishes to the letter, they might either sue her for defamation, or have her legally declared to be unfit to continue to conduct her own financial affairs.
After her death, when the gossip had started, Olivia had urged her parents to go public with Maisie’s reasons for changing her will, but they had felt honourbound not to say anything in case Maisie’s distrust ended up reflecting badly on her original trustees, who, after all, had done nothing wrong. It was typical of her parents to protect others at their own expense, Olivia knew.
Her parents might have forgiven Tait for his article now he had backed off, but Olivia didn’t intend to do so. He hadn’t actually taken back what he’d said or apologised, had he? And besides, there was something about Tait as a person, as a man, that made her feel on edge, and…and judged. He was so…so pleased with himself, and arrogantly and, yes, sexually male. Not like Robert, who was so very much more gentlemanly.
Robert…Olivia hugged to herself the thought of the kiss they had shared.
‘Here’s your case,’ Ella told Olivia. ‘Amber said to tell you that you’re in the lilac room.’
‘She knows that’s my favourite,’ Olivia smiled, reaching for the strap of her roller case.
Each of Denham’s many bedrooms was decorated in a different colour to coordinate with the Denby Mill silk used for its soft furnishings.
The panelling in the room Ella and Oliver were occupying was painted a soft grey blue, to contrast with the butter-yellow silk curtains, their Greek key design border a deeper richer gold. The Greek key design provided a border for the blue-grey and off-white trellis-patterned carpet, whilst the bedcover, the seats of the two bedroom chairs and the lamps on the mantelpiece were covered in the yellow silk.
Within seconds of Olivia going, the bedroom door opened again and Oliver walked in.
‘You look thoughtful,’