Power of a Woman (7 page)

My mother. Chloe has inherited her beauty, her
willowy figure, her pleasing personality, and
her desire to please; Miles has inherited her
sense of humor and geniality
.

I love them. I love all of my children. It’s the
truth, I do. Maybe too much. And yet somewhere
along the way I suppose I hurt them, damaged
them without meaning to do so. But then we’re
all damaged goods, aren’t we? Life damages us,
people damage us, we even damage ourselves.

I must have caused them pain and heartache.

And hurt their feelings. We do that so often to
those we love the most without even realizing
it or meaning to. And perhaps I did neglect them
at times when I was caught up with work and
travel. But I never stopped loving them
.

I think of them as my children. But, of course,
they’re not children, not anymore. They’re
adults. Grown-ups. People. Other
68 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

people, not my children. They’re so different in
so many ways. Strangers. Sometimes, anyway.

Even Chloe is grown-up all of a sudden, knowing her own mind, hell-bent on getting her own
way
.

Soon I’m going to stop being a mother, stop
thinking of myself as such. Instead I’ll be…? I’ll
be…just there for them. If they need me. Is that
possible? How do you stop being a mother? How
do you stop worrying about them? Caring about
them? Perhaps you don’t. How DO you stop
being a mother? Can anyone tell me that?

Will I fare better with my grandchildren? I
asked myself that question in the middle of the
night, when I woke up with such suddenness. I
will be a good grandmother to Natalie and
Arnaud. Grandmothers are better than mothers,
I’ve been told. Less possessive. My grandchildren are so precious and Nigel is lucky to have
them, to have Tamara. She’s a good wife, a
wonderful mother. A good young woman
.

I think I’m beginning to resent the fact that
Gideon teases her, calls her “the foreigner.” Her
father is French, her mother Russian, and
Gideon wants to make an issue about it. Why,
I’ll never know. But it’s unkind. He says it’s in
jest; yet I sense that’s how he really perceives
her. I’d hate to think he was bigoted in some
way. But I am very

Power of a Woman / 69

aware that my son Gideon thinks that anything
not English is inferior. I wonder why he’s not
learned otherwise yet? I did years ago
.

Chloe. I can’t let her go to London. Chloe
alone there at the age of eighteen! No, never. I
feel it’s unwise. She’s too young. And she must
go to university. She can’t just drop out
.

Soon my family will be with me. Well, some
of them, and that makes me happy. And each
one of us has a lot to be thankful for this November of 1996. And I, in particular, am such a
lucky woman. I have so much
.

Stevie closed her diary, put it in the desk, and locked the drawer. As she pushed back her chair and rose, she heard the sound of the car on the gravel driveway outside.

Moving to the window, she pulled back the lace curtain and looked out. Her heart lifted when she saw Miles alighting.

He glanced up at the window, saw his mother, and waved.

She waved back, dropped the curtain, and hurried out, almost running down the stairs to the great hall.

M
ILES JARDINE COULDN’T HELP THINKING THAT AS

he and his twin brother grew older, their mother appeared to be getting younger.

That morning she looked like a woman in her mid-thirties, and quite wonderful, as she came down the front steps to greet him and his grandparents.

She was wearing a chalk-stripe gray-wool pants suit and a white silk shirt, and she was her usual elegant self.

It struck him that Gideon was correct when he said they were rapidly catching up with her, and that when they were forty-six she herself would still be forty-six, at least in her appearance anyway.

But then, she
had
been a mere nineteen-year-old when they were born, and she was blessed with youthful looks, thanks to her genes. His grandmother, who would soon be sixty-seven, didn’t look her age either, nor did she seem it.

72 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

Blair was as youthful as anyone he knew, had great vitality, energy, and an enormous sense of fun.

“Hello, Ma,” Miles said as his mother drew to a standstill in front of him. “You look fabulous.” He smiled at her hugely, dropped the two bags he was carrying, and hugged her to him.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Miles darling,” she responded, smiling back. “And thanks for the compliment.” She drew away and went on down the steps.

His eyes followed her as she embraced her mother and then Derek, who had been helping the driver unload the trunk of the car.

Suddenly Cappi and the two local young women who worked with her on weekends were greeting him. One of them grabbed his suitcases despite his protestations that he could manage perfectly well; she paid no attention, simply departed with the luggage.

Miles shrugged to himself and went on down the last few remaining steps, close on the heels of Cappi and her other helper.

But when he heard Chloe calling his name, he paused, swung around, and a second later his sister was hurtling into his arms.

“Hi, Pumpkin,” he exclaimed, and gave her a big bear hug.

“I’ve been waiting all morning for you, Miles; you’re late.”

He grinned at her. “I think I’m
early
actually, kid.

We weren’t due until noon, and it was just Power of a Woman / 73

eleven thirty as we turned into the gates. Anyway, how’re things at Romany Hall?”

“Okay,” she answered laconically. There was a slight pause, then she added softly, “But I want to—”

She broke off abruptly, as if she had changed her mind.

“Come on, Pumpkin, what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, nothing…it was nothing important, honestly.”

Miles thought otherwise, but he made no comment, as always discreet. “Come on, then, let’s help Cappi and Lola with all that stuff. When the Rayners travel, it’s like old-style royalty on the move. And God only knows what they bring with them.”

“The kitchen sink,” Chloe chortled. “That’s what Mom says anyway. She told me earlier that they’d arrive with two dozen suitcases plus the kitchen sink.”

“Not quite, but almost,” Miles agreed, laughing with his sister.

They went down to the driveway holding hands.

Chloe glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“So you didn’t bring Allison.”

Miles threw her an odd look. “Now, why would I bring
her?
”

“Bring who?” Derek asked as he braced himself for Chloe’s enthusiastic hugs and kisses.

Stevie stared at her son, waiting to hear his response to her stepfather’s question.

74 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

Glancing at Derek, Miles said, “Nobody. Nobody important, that is.”

Well, at least that’s to the point, Stevie thought.

And leaves nothing to our imagination.

“Hello, darling,” Blair murmured, accepting Chloe’s kisses, which were, to her relief, more restrained than those just bestowed on Derek. “And who is Allison?” she asked, casting her glance on them all.

“Don’t look at me; I’ve no idea, my darling,”

Derek intoned in his mellifluous actor’s voice and, hoisting two of the valises, went up the steps. Stevie and Blair followed, carrying some of the smaller bags.

After Miles had thanked the driver and tipped him, he too made his way to the front door with Chloe in tow. He said in a pointed voice, “Little pigs not only have big ears, but apparently loose tongues as well.”

Chloe giggled.

“Why did you mention Allison of all people, and in front of our mother? You know she’s longing for me to get married and have kids, so she can have more grandchildren. It was wrong of you, Chloe.”

“Well, you have been seeing a lot of Allison, and I thought it was…” Her voice trailed off lamely; she looked chagrined. And she felt suddenly uncomfortable under his fixed scrutiny.

“That’s my business, kid, not yours.”

“I thought it was getting serious between you two.”

Power of a Woman / 75

“No. And even if I did have serious intentions, that has nothing to do with you or Mother or anyone else. It’s a private matter and it’s certainly not open for discussion within the family.”

“Oh.” There was a momentary pause, and she looked at him through worried eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, but let’s not discuss my personal business in front of the rest of the family. Okay?”

“Yes, Miles, and I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Just remember what I said though. You’ve got to learn some discretion. You’re not a little kid anymore, you’re eighteen, and you must start growing up, behaving like an adult.”

Chloe nodded, her face suitably serious for once.

After coffee and hot buttered scones in front of the fire in the great hall, everybody dispersed in different directions. Stevie sent Cappi, Lola, and Chloe to help Blair and Derek unpack their voluminous luggage; Shana, the other young woman who worked with Cappi, took Miles’s bags up to his room. And his mother hurried off to the kitchen, explaining that she had to baste the turkey that was roasting in the oven.

Left alone, Miles wandered down the great hall into the dining room, and then slowly strolled through into the living room which adjoined it.

76 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

He couldn’t help admiring the ambiance his mother had created in the house. It was immensely seduct-ive, just as it was in her other homes. But he especially liked Romany Hall because it was an airy, spacious house filled with clear, crystalline light that poured in through the many windows upstairs and down, a great number of which were unencumbered by draperies.

Everything was sparkling and fresh throughout.

The white paintwork was pristine; the windows shone; the wood floors gleamed, and there was not a speck of dust anywhere. No shabby corners, worn fabrics, or frayed rugs here. His mother was something of a perfectionist, and she maintained the house at the highest level. Every piece of furniture, each object and painting, was well cared for and in its proper place.

Although it was beautifully decorated, Romany Hall was not overdone and there was no unnecessary clutter or ostentation. The air was fragrant with potpourri, perfumed candles, and the unusual chocolate smell of the Sharry Baby orchids, their curvaceous stems laden with exotic dark blooms.

Miles did not linger very long in the living room, but continued on to the solarium, a room he generally gravitated to at least once every day when he was staying with his mother.

He had always been taken with its simple yet effective beauty—white walls, warm terra-cotta—tiled floor, and the eye-catching Pierre Frey fabrics pat-Power of a Woman / 77

terned in reds, yellows, and blues that his mother had used on the sofas and chairs. The solarium had a French feeling to it, with its high-flung cathedral ceiling and beams, stone fireplace and the French Provençal furniture his mother had picked up at sales in the Loire Valley and the Maritime Alps.

The many windows and French doors made the solarium seem part of the outside, and the clarity of light was particularly noticeable here. Although it was a sunless day, and somewhat bleak, the cloudless sky was a soft bluish white, almost etiolated, and it was incandescent.

A good light for painting, he thought, and made up his mind to bring his easel and paintbox down there tomorrow. He was suddenly in the mood to do a few watercolors.

Orchids abounded throughout the house, but there was a greater profusion of them in the solarium. His mother had always been addicted to orchids; and, even as a child, he too had been fascinated by them, by the intricacy of the flowers, the fantast-ical shapes of the petals, and the truly exotic colors.

He had grown up with orchids; there had always been a plethora of them in their farmhouse on the Yorkshire moors. Once a week he had helped his mother to water them, then put them in large metal bowls to drain.

“
Sissy, sissy, sissy!
” From a long way off, in the far reaches of his memory, he heard Nigel’s voice 78 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

echoing down through the years. His elder brother had always teased him about watering the orchids with their mother. He hadn’t really cared; he had been independent even then. But his mother had cared when Nigel’s taunting had become a tiresome pattern, and his older sibling had been suitably punished.

Their mother had made Nigel clean all the lavat-ories at Aysgarth End, six in all, and he had had the last laugh, although he hadn’t dared to crack a smile.

If he had, there would have been retribution of some kind. Nigel had been born a tough little bugger.

And nothing’s changed, he thought coldly.

Opening the door, Miles stepped out onto the covered porch, walked over to the balustrade, and stood looking out toward the distant hills. Kent was such a beautiful part of the world, his kind of country with its rolling wooded hills and crystal lakes. It reminded him of Yorkshire and of his childhood, a good part of which was spent there.

These days it was mostly Nigel who used Aysgarth End as a weekend home when he could get away from London, and for all the national holidays when they didn’t go to France to see Tamara’s parents.

Certainly it was a marvelous spot to raise a family.

When he went back to England he would go up there for a few days. He had long been planning to do an oil painting of Nigel’s two children, and he wanted to paint them against a moorland background.

Power of a Woman / 79

Now the view of the distant Litchfield hills rein-forced this idea, was quite inspirational in a way.