Emma’s Secret. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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she handed it to Paula silently.
After scanning the page in the same cursory way Emily had done, Paula put the diary back in the small suitcase. ‘I don’t think we should be reading these …’
‘I know what you mean, they’re very private. On the other hand, Paula, I have the feeling Gran wouldn’t mind us looking at them. I think she’d want us to read them, actually.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. But for now I’m going to lock the case and put it away somewhere safe. And maybe in a few weeks or so we can read them together. If you’d like that, Emily?’
‘Oh yes, I would, that’s a good idea. Gran was articulate, you know, and actually she wrote rather well I thought. She expressed herself most eloquently at times.’ Emily paused, and then leaning toward Paula, she said quietly, ‘I’m sure there are a few secrets in there, don’t you agree?’
‘I don’t really know … did she have any during the war years? Paul was dead and she was grieving, coping with our uncles being in the services, running a big business under wartime conditions. What kind of secrets could she possibly have had?’
‘Well, I didn’t mean sexual, or anything like that! I bet she never wrote that kind of thing down. Really, Paula, Gran was very proper.’
‘She also had a number of husbands, let’s not forget that.’
‘Only two. And two lovers.’
‘And that was that. So I’m sure there are no secrets buried in those diaries.’
‘You never know. Anyway, everyone has secrets,’ Emily pronounced.
‘They do?’ Shane said from the doorway, startling them both, making them jump as he strolled into the room. ‘Are you quite positive of that?’ He was smiling broadly as he came to join them by the fireside.
Paula said, ‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, Shane, but India found a case full of Grandy’s diaries in the attic. I was just telling Emily about their discovery, showing them to her.’
‘How wonderful,’ he said, glancing at the case on the coffee table. ‘I see they’re her private diaries.’
‘Yes, it’s a great find, but we’ve decided not to read any of them. At least not now.’
Shane looked down at her, his eyes loving as he said, ‘You’ve made a good decision … wait for the right moment. After all, these are sacrosanct … a woman’s private thoughts and feelings. Those should be treated with great respect.’
Later, as she sat near the fireplace in the great Stone Hall, Paula glanced around at her family, as always pleased and happy to have them gathered around her at Pennistone Royal.
Everyone had finally arrived. Shane had mixed drinks for those who wanted whiskey or vodka, and Linnet and India had poured champagne into tall Venetian flutes and passed them around.
Although she rarely drank, Paula had elected to have a glass of champagne tonight, and she sat sipping it, her eyes roaming around the room. They came to rest on her cousin … and staunchly devoted ally, Emily. She was currently engaged in deep conversation with Emsie, the two of them sitting in a corner near the fireplace. Those two had bonded early in Emsie’s young life, and they were particularly close. When Emily had been a teenager, she had loved horses, and had been a champion rider in all manner of equestrian events in Yorkshire. Mucking out stables had been fun for Emily, just as it was for Emsie. They had a lot in common, in many areas, quite aside from loving each other. How pretty Emily looks, Paula thought. Her cousin was wearing a sage-green silk tunic over fir-green wool twill trousers, so narrow and well cut they might have been tailored for a cavalry officer. The green emphasized the loveliness of her eyes, and her soft blonde colouring, while the outfit made her look slimmer, Paula noted.
She experienced a sudden, wonderful surge of warmth and love for Emily, who had been her stalwart companion since childhood. There was nobody like Emily in the whole family, not really. Loving, kind and sincere, she was also a tough businesswoman, direct, with no frills attached, and outspoken to the point of bluntness. There were times, at meetings, when she took Paula’s breath away with her pithy comments, most of which usually made Paula laugh hilariously.
Even Emsie had made a big effort tonight, Paula realized, as her eyes lingered on her seventeen-year-old daughter. Emsie … another original, Paula thought, smiling inwardly. Usually she looked dishevelled and grungy in unattractive clothes that Paula wanted to rip off and burn. In fact, the only time she looked halfway decent was when she wore her riding clothes. But tonight there had been a sudden reversal, and Emsie was attractively decked out in scarlet wool trousers and a matching turtleneck sweater, which Paula recognized. Didn’t they belong to Linnet? Well, she’d obviously borrowed them. Red was a marvellous colour for Emsie with her black hair and black eyes.
No mistaking who she is, Paula thought, scrutinizing her intently. She was Black Irish, a true Celt, the epitome of an O’Neill. Her eyes swept over the three men in her life: Shane, Desmond and Grandfather Bryan. They were standing together talking near the big armoire, obviously engrossed in some topic, horses and racing, no doubt. Tall, long-legged, broad shouldered all three of them, descended from Shane Patrick Desmond O’Neill, known to the world as Blackie. They had inherited their looks and their colouring from him. Bryan’s hair was pure white now and Shane’s tinged with silver at the sides, but Desmond, at fifteen, had hair as black as coal. Her three devoted men, how she loved them. Like Emsie, the youngest of the clan, they were unmistakably O’Neills right down to their boots.
And there was her other child, Linnet. She was a true Harte, no two ways about that, with red hair shot through with gold and green eyes. She had chosen to wear black trousers and a black sweater with a scooped-out neck, and she looked taller than ever and very slender, her hair a fiery halo around her pale face. Tonight she appeared quiet and reflective, unsmiling. Paula was certain it was because of Julian’s presence.
Shifting slightly in the chair, Paula’s eyes scanned the Stone Hall, and finally she spotted her great ally, Gideon. He was standing at the far end, engrossed in conversation with India, his first cousin and close friend. Like Linnet, Gideon was pure Harte, with dark russet hair and light green eyes, very white teeth in his lean, tanned face. He loved sports and had recently been to Switzerland for five days’ skiing, where he had caught the sun. He was good looking, like his father Winston, and just as stable; devoted to the family in the same way Winston had always been.
Her eyes settled on her cousin Anthony’s daughter, India. Lady India Standish. She had an honorary title as the daughter of an earl. Another blonde in the family, a dainty, fragile-looking girl, with delicate bones and soulful eyes. Soft, gentle; but Paula knew that India had a great deal of strength, and was a true and loyal friend to Linnet. She carried the Fairley blood through her grandmother Edwina, and there were those who said she had a strong look of her when she had been young. Paula felt protective of India, although Shane laughed at her when she said this, reminding her that India had the courage of a lion and could easily stare down an army without flinching. She was the family’s favourite because of her loving kindness, her tenderness and compassion for others. Paula knew that she was also very brave.
Paula spotted another family favourite, and her great friend and colleague, Winston. Her cousin, Emily’s husband. He was travelling across the Stone Hall in long strides, intent on joining his best friend Shane. Winston’s red-gold hair had faded and was touched with grey, but just as the O’Neills were stamped with a particular look, so were the Hartes, passed down from Emma and her brother Winston. This Winston, the one walking across the stone floor tonight, had been very special to Emma, a great favourite, perhaps because he had looked so much like her. ‘The salt of the earth,’ she had called him, and it was true. He was very charming, dashing. Emily had been smitten with him when she was sixteen, and no wonder. These days he was a commanding figure, her staunchest supporter in all things, whether business or family matters. She loved Winston like a brother.
As she sat back in her chair, sipping her champagne, Paula let her gaze finally rest on the son of one of her dearest