Breaking the Rules (43 page)

‘So what will happen to the money?’ M shook her head. ‘It can’t just sit in a Swiss bank, can it?’

‘It could. Nothing could possibly happen to it. But in a few days, part of it will go to a new charity called SAFE, founded by several anonymous donors who intend to use it to good
purpose. They plan to support and nurture the underprivileged children of the world who are at terrible risk…in every country. Within months large amounts of money will be sent to different legitimate charities that care for children. The charity SAFE will be monitored by Wen Li,’ Jack finished, and then added, ‘with my help.’

‘Oh how wonderful,’ Linnet interjected, a radiant smile crossing her face.

‘Yes it is,’ Jack agreed.

‘All that “bad” money being used to do good, to help children at risk: what a wonderfully ironic twist,’ M said, looking at Jack, then James, before turning to her sister. She continued, ‘I can’t think of anything more fitting than that—keeping children safe. And what a perfect name to choose for the charity. It’s certainly very meaningful, wouldn’t you say?’

I
t was wonderful to be back here at Pennistone Royal, walking through the gardens she had always loved so much. Memories of her childhood came flooding back. They were centred on these gardens, her mother’s creation, for she had come with her own little trowel to help out, to dig a hole, plant a bulb, and be her mother’s only assistant.

On certain days, in the very late summer and early autumn, when the weather was suddenly stupendous, her mother would take hold of her hand and say, ‘Come on, little Em, let’s go and enjoy this Indian summer day.’ That’s what they had done, and she had been so proud to be the one chosen.

Now, on this sunny morning, as she strolled along the paths, M lifted her head at one moment and glanced up. And caught her breath. It was August, the month when the heather bloomed in full, and the moorland was like an undulating sea of intense purple against the far horizon, at the edge of the pale blue sky.

Moving on towards the famous Rhododendron Walk, designed, built and planted by her mother for Emma Harte many years ago, M now thought about her husband; she was happy that he had fallen in love with this lovely old house, and the grounds.
It was a very special place to her, and it gave her pleasure that Larry also saw its intrinsic beauty inside, and out here, and appreciated what a unique place it was. A moment later, she heard his voice. He was calling her name, and as she turned around and looked back towards the house, she saw him hurrying down the path, waving to her.

She waved back, stood and waited, and when he finally came to a stop she said, ‘Close your eyes and turn around.’

‘Why?’ he asked, looking at her, smiling hugely.

‘Just do it, please.’

‘Okay.’ He closed his eyes, turned around, and asked, ‘So when can I open them?’

‘Now. Open your eyes
now
and you’ll have a big surprise.’

‘I’ll be looking at something special, is that it?’

‘Yes. A spectacular sea.’

‘We’re on a
beach
? Very well.’ Larry opened his eyes and a little gasp escaped. ‘The moors! The heather! You’re right: it
is
a spectacular sight. A purple sea. How extraordinary. But why didn’t I notice yesterday when we came for a walk?’ he asked, sounding astonished.

‘Because we were at the other side of the house, and this particular view is partially blocked. I’d half forgotten about the August heather myself, and was just as surprised as you when I looked up and saw the purple moors. Grandy’s moors, that’s what we call them, because she loved them so much. She grew up on them as a child, but not here at Pennistone Royal. Some distance away, in Fairley, a moorland village.’

Larry nodded. ‘You’ve mentioned Fairley before. But one thing you’ve not told me is when your great-grandmother bought this magnificent house.’

‘It was in Nineteen thirty-three, and it was apparently in quite a sorry state when she found it; but she fell in love with it, restored it, and furnished the house herself. And my mother never changes it, she just replaces fabrics and restores rooms
and other things when that’s needed. She keeps it exactly the same. And most especially the upstairs parlour, where we had drinks last night.’

‘A beautiful room. And so is the house. What I like about it is that it’s grand without being pretentious, and it’s very comfortable.’

‘I’m glad you feel that way, because I love it here. It’s my childhood home, and Mummy and Daddy want us to come whenever we can. You will, won’t you? When we’re in London and can spare the time?’

‘Of course I will. Wherever thou goest, I will go, my love. Anyway try and keep me away. I love it here and, as you know, I’ve never been to Yorkshire before. I think it’s perfectly suited to me, just as you are, my Yorkshire girl.’

They began to walk away from the moors, and headed towards the Rhododendron Walk; they went all the way to the top of the hill, and down it again, and then moved on towards Pennistone Royal village. A wide path led to the village where M was taking Larry, and this was flanked on both sides by woods of beautiful trees and shrubs and filled with filtered sunlight.

‘Let’s go through there!’ Larry suddenly exclaimed, taking hold of her hand, leading her to the woods on the right side of the path.

Instantly, M froze. Without realizing it, she had unfortunately taken them down the road towards the spot where she had been accosted by the two men in the van in March of last year. All she wanted to do was to get away. She exclaimed in a harsh tone, ‘Come on, Larry. I don’t want to go through there! In fact, I want to go back to the house. Now!’

She pulled him away from the woods, and he stared at her, somewhat startled and looking puzzled. ‘Whatever’s the matter? You’ve gone very white, M.’

‘Nothing’s
wrong.
I’m just tired all of a sudden, and I want to
go back to the house. It’s getting late anyway. Mummy hates us to be tardy for lunch, not to mention Margaret, who can throw a fit at the drop of a hat. She worries about the food spoiling.’

‘But I did want to have a look at the village, M,’ Larry replied. ‘Be a sport. Let’s go on through the woods, I can see a path and a clearing, and you did say the village was at the other side.’

‘I don’t want to go in there!’ M cried, and she stared at Larry, tried to tug him away. When he didn’t budge she let go of his hand and stood glaring at him. Everything came suddenly rushing back, and she clearly recalled that day when the man called Bart had raped her not a stone’s throw away from here. She burst into tears and stepped away.

Larry rushed over to her at once, put his arms around her and held her close to him. ‘What is it, darling? Why are you so upset? Tell me, M,
please.
There’s nothing you can’t tell me, you know, after all you’ve been through with me. Does this place hold a bad memory for you? Why are you suddenly so afraid and upset?’

She looked up at him, and saw the kindness reflected in his crystalline blue eyes; she clutched him, leaned against his body, and the tears flowed.

Larry held her tightly, said not one word, and endeavoured to soothe her. And finally, after taking a few deep breaths, she began to speak. And she told him everything…told him how she had been stopped by two men in a van, and raped by one of them in the clearing in the wood. And explained that she had managed to escape, had found Gypo nearby, had galloped away, hell for leather, to Pennistone Royal and safety. All of the facts were laid bare for him, and after twenty minutes of nonstop talking she finally stopped.

‘And that’s the way it was.’ Those were her last words before she took a tissue from her trouser pocket and wiped her streaming eyes.

Larry waited until she was finally more composed, and then
he took her hand in his and together they walked slowly back to the house. He knew her well, understood her completely, and when he sensed she was calmer, he said quietly, in a low and loving voice, ‘You should have told me, darling, I think it would have helped you to unburden yourself, and I would have understood. I promise you I would.’

‘I realize that now, but last year, when we met in New York, it was all too fresh in one sense. And there’s something else. I had buried it deep inside. I called it the Bad Thing, and I wouldn’t let it come out. And I coped. Somehow you helped me, Larry; your love and kindness were healing for me.’

‘I’m glad of that…’ He hesitated for a moment, before asking, ‘Is that why you were so apprehensive the first night we met, when I took you to Le Refuge? Outside, when I kissed you, and you pulled away?’

M nodded. ‘It was, yes, and then the next day I realized I might frighten you off, so I invented the story about the rough boyfriend. Because I didn’t want you to know about…the rape.’

‘I understand. But I’m here now, and I always will be. You’re safe with me, M. And when you feel up to it, maybe you should go and speak to a professional…it might be helpful.’

‘Yes, it might. I’ll think about it.’ She turned to look at him, held his attention. ‘Listen, Larry, only Linnet knows, and Jack. Please don’t speak of it to them, will you, though? And no one else either. This is our secret.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, putting one arm around her and drawing her closer to his side. ‘All I want to do is look after you, and love you, my darling wife.’

Paula stood at a window in the upstairs parlour at Pennistone Royal, staring out across the moors. Grandy’s moors, which she had loved in all the seasons of the years. She herself had
inherited that love of this implacable northern landscape, and had frequently wandered across those undulating hills, as Emma had done throughout her long life.

They tempted her this afternoon. But she did not have time to go up there today, even though they beckoned beguilingly. The purple heather gave them an intense colour and new summer life under a pale blue sky. Not a single cloud marked that cerulean arc, and it was beautiful.

She looked at her watch. It was almost four and in a short while everyone would join her for afternoon tea. It was a family tradition started almost seventy-four years ago, when Emma had first bought Pennistone Royal and made it her family home.

Paula smiled to herself. There had been so many changes in her life over the years. But this had never changed: tea at four in the upstairs parlour. It was one thing in her life that had remained a constant. And this pleased her.

Lingering for a moment longer at the window, Paula thought of Jack. He had done so much for them over these many years. And it was Jack who had finally freed them of her evil cousin, if somewhat indirectly. Always her enemy. He was dead at last and could no longer harm them, and for that she was glad. They were lucky in that he had been the only bad apple in the entire family.

Walking towards the fireplace, Paula stood and looked up at the painting of Emma Harte, recently brought here from the Stone Hall. It had been executed when Emma was in her forties, and looking beautiful in a white gown and her famous emeralds. You knew, Grandy, she thought. You knew what he was. And Paula recalled with clarity the day the twins had been christened at Fairley Church. And on that day her grandmother had warned her, had told her not to trust her cousin Jonathan. How right she had been. But all that was over. Her daughters were safe.

A small sigh escaped her…Life was such a fragile possession, one that could be so easily broken. But they were all whole…even Tessa was getting better, recovering well from the burns to her face and legs, becoming slowly beautiful again after skin grafts, plastic surgery, and the best care available.

Tessa’s twin, Lorne, was as handsome as he had always been. The burns on his hands had quickly healed, and he had thrown off the damages of the fire, and was full of laughter, jokes and quips, and enjoying life to the fullest. She was relieved the twins were doing so incredibly well, and particularly happy that Tessa’s face would one day be perfect again.

Paula’s eyes swept around the room. The upstairs parlour had looked the same since Emma first decorated it with mellow antiques and floral fabrics, so colourful against the pale yellow walls. She had found the Savonnerie carpet, which Emma had originally used on the dark polished wood floor, and brought it up from the storage room. Its pastel tones highlighted the dark wood, and the bleached-oak fireplace drew everyone because of Emma’s portrait hanging above it. Across the room, the famous Turner landscape that Emma had cherished took pride of place; it was Paula’s favourite period. On the end wall, Paula had hung the portrait of her grandfather, Paul McGill.

Paula had kept the room exactly the same because she knew it
was
perfect. All she ever did was refurbish it when this was needed. As she moved towards the fireplace, she nodded to herself, pleased with the flowers Linnet had arranged in several vases and placed around the room, echoing the summer gardens filled with flowers.

Linnet.
It filled Paula with great joy to know that her middle daughter was happy again, that she and Simon had so fortunately discovered their love for each other. They were engaged, and were currently planning their wedding. They were going to be married quietly in a small ceremony at Pennistone Royal church this coming Christmas Eve.

‘We’ve made it safely, Grandy, darling. Our Harte luck has held,’ Paula said as she stared at the portrait.

At this moment the door flew open and M came in first, saying, ‘That’s a sign of old age, Mummy! Talking to yourself.’

‘I’m not talking to myself,’ Paula answered. ‘I’m talking to your great-grandmother.’

‘I often do that,’ Linnet interjected, sounding quite serious. ‘Especially at the store when I can’t make things work out the way I want. I keep asking her how she ever did it.’

Tessa, still limping slightly, joined in the laughter as she came in after Linnet. Watching her carefully, Paula realized that the limp was another reminder of her injuries in the fire and the ordeal she had been through. Her face was still tight in places, but was healing, and her wonderful silver-gilt hair had grown back in three months, framed her face in a halo of light, and hid the scars on one side. Thank God her looks hadn’t been ruined, Paula thought, knowing Tessa would have been devastated if she had been disfigured.

A minute later Margaret, their bossy but beloved housekeeper, came rushing in pushing a large tea trolley, exclaiming, ‘I don’t know, Paula, there’s so many here for tea we should have had it in the dining room.’

‘No, we shouldn’t!’ Paula shot back swiftly and a little sharply, but giving her a warm smile. ‘Tea at four in the upstairs parlour is a Harte tradition.’

‘And one that must never be broken,’ M announced firmly, and went and sat next to her mother. She took hold of Paula’s hand and squeezed it. ‘It’s lovely to be home,’ she said, looking into her mother’s extraordinary violet eyes. ‘I’ve missed you and Daddy and Pennistone Royal. And my lovely Gypo.’

‘I’m overjoyed you’re home at last, Emsie. And I want you to know yet again how proud I am of you, the way you went off and did your own thing and made a success all by yourself. It’s the fulfilment of your dream.’