Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
T
oby Harte sat listening most attentively to everything his cousin Tessa Fairley was saying. He always thought of her as Fairley rather than Longden, and he suspected this was because he was not a huge fan of her husband Mark Longden.
When she finally paused for breath, Toby asked with a frown, ‘Why are you suddenly so interested in drugs? You of all people, Miss Goody Two Shoes. Do you have a suspicion Mark is on something? Is that it, Tessa? There can’t be any other reason.’
Although she was taken aback by this statement, she realized she ought not to be. Toby was one of the shrewdest people in her orbit, and he knew her intimately, better than anyone.
Clearing her throat, she said, ‘I’m not really sure that he’s on drugs, to be honest, Toby. But he could be. He came home a couple of nights ago in a very strange state. Glassy-eyed, erratic, extremely belligerent, trying to pick a quarrel. He’d been drinking, I knew that. He was quite drunk, I’d say—’
‘In
vino veritas,
eh?’ Toby cut in, raising a dark brow.
‘Perhaps. And yet I was suspicious because he was somehow…well,
different.’
‘Did you question him about his behaviour the next morning?’
‘Oh yes. He said something ridiculous about having taken cold pills, and that he had then had several drinks on the train. He suggested the combination must have created a problem. I certainly didn’t believe
that
story.’
‘I don’t blame you. Neither do I.’ Toby stood up, walked across Tessa’s office, stood looking out of the window which fronted onto Knightsbridge far below. After a moment contemplating Mark Longden, he swung around, and said, ‘You mentioned he’d had drinks on the train. Where had he been?’
‘To see a new client. In the Midlands. He sounded rather chuffed about that. It’s a big architectural job for him. A grand house, apparently, according to what he told me. The client’s filthy rich, so Mark said.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘William Stone. Some sort of tycoon, I think.’
‘Never heard of him.’ Toby shrugged. ‘Not that that means anything. There’s a lot of wealth around these days that nobody knows anything about.’ Toby strode back to the chair opposite Tessa’s desk, sat down and continued, ‘If he
was
on something, it was more than likely a designer drug rather than anything else. Probably ecstasy, that’s still very popular.’
‘What exactly
is
it?’ Tessa asked, riddled with curiosity.
‘Ecstasy’s a party drug, and popular because it creates a rush, a high, very quickly, so I’m told. But it can be hallucinogenic, and even creates paranoia in some people. Basically, it’s a stimulant.’
‘Is it hard to get?’
‘Not if you know where to go.’
‘Mark doesn’t seem a likely candidate for drugs. He works very hard, and he’s made the firm a success.’
Toby nodded, then smiled at her, aware of how troubled she was. ‘Perhaps he was just very, very drunk, darling,’ he suggested, wanting to make her feel better.
‘Maybe you’re right. Nevertheless, he was awfully weird.’
Gazing across the desk at her, it occurred to Toby that she did not look well this afternoon. Her delicately wrought face was drained of all colour; this combined with the halo of silvery-blonde hair made her look like a pale ghost, extremely frail. But perhaps it was the black suit she was wearing; the colour certainly emphasized her extreme pallor and delicacy. And yet there had always been a certain fragility about Tessa, which is one of the reasons he had fallen so easily into the role of protector when they were children. Despite this physical frailness, however, she was strong mentally.
Toby knew how tough Tessa could be, and she had a will of iron. He admired his cousin and he had always loved her. To Toby her
only
fault was her inability to disguise her true feelings in certain instances, most especially when it came to her sister Linnet. She was competitive with her, seemed to have no idea how to conceal this. The art of dissimulation, apparently one of their great-grandmother’s most important assets, had seemingly escaped Tessa.
‘You’re suddenly very quiet, Toby.’
‘I was thinking about Mark. He wasn’t abusive, was he?’ Toby sounded worried and his dark eyes reflected a sudden fierceness.
‘Oh no, nothing like that!’ she lied. It would embarrass her to tell Toby the truth. Knowing him as she did, she was aware he would seek Mark out, take him to task, or worse, beat him up. Toby had always defended her and nothing had changed there. They were not only cousins and best friends, but cohorts in business, with many well-laid plans for their future together in the Harte empire.
‘Now
you’re
suddenly quiet,’ Toby remarked, staring hard at her.
Tessa gave him the benefit of a wide and loving smile. ‘You know how mad you get when someone reminds you that you don’t look like a Harte?’
‘Oh yes, the changeling, that’s me,’ he muttered sarcastically.
‘I saw a photo recently of Emma’s father, Big Jack Harte, and
that’s
who you look like, Toby.’
Startled, he gaped at her, then said, ‘I do?’ He sounded doubtful. ‘Are you sure?’
Tessa didn’t answer. Instead she opened her desk drawer and took out an ancient photograph of a tall, well-built, darkly handsome man standing next to a younger man in Royal Navy uniform. It was obviously father and son since they resembled each other. She handed the picture to Toby.
He stared down at it with interest, then lifted his head, looked at her. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘I took it out of an old photograph album in the library at Pennistone Royal a few weeks ago. I was up in Yorkshire, visiting the Leeds and Harrogate stores, and I spent the night there. I was alone, except for Emsie, who was doing her homework, and I went to the library to browse. Actually, I was hoping to find a few pictures of Aunt Edwina when she was young. That’s when I came across that particular photograph. I was instantly aware of the striking resemblance you bear to the older man in particular.’
‘How do you know it’s our great-great-grandfather?’
‘Look on the back.’
He did as she suggested, and read out loud the words written in the now-faded black ink. ‘My father, Jack Harte, and my brother Winston when he was in the Royal Navy.’
‘That’s certainly Grandy Emma’s handwriting, Toby.’
‘So I see.’ He offered her the photograph.
Tessa shook her head. ‘I don’t want it. I brought it for you. Please keep it.’
‘Are you sure? After all, it might be missed.’
‘Who’s going to look through an old album? There are a lot of them in the library. They’re all covered in faded red velvet or fancy tooled leather with big brass clasps on the front. Anyway, I think you ought to have it because it absolutely proves you do look like a Harte.’ She began to laugh, and went on, ‘Like the founding father, actually. Isn’t that one for the books?’
‘Let’s have tea,’ Tessa said to Toby as her secretary Claire Remsford came into her office carrying a laden tray. As she spoke she rose and crossed the room, heading for the small seating area near the windows.
‘Thanks, Claire,’ Tessa murmured, and smiled when she saw the tray. She exclaimed, ‘Oh that’s so nice! You ordered some chocolate fingers. Mr. Harte loves them.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Claire replied as she went towards the door.
Toby grinned at her, remarking, ‘You certainly know how to get to a man’s heart, Claire.’
Laughing, blushing, Tessa’s secretary exited, and Toby joined Tessa, sitting down in one of the armchairs. ‘No milk for me,’ he told her, ‘and I’ll have a sweetener instead of sugar. I’m on a diet.’
She gave him a surreptitious glance out of the corner of her eye. ‘But I bet you’ll guzzle all of those chocolate fingers.’
‘Not all of them. I’ll save a few for you,’ he shot back, laughing.
‘I spoke to my mother the other day,’ Tessa confided as she poured the tea. ‘About who her successor will be.’
‘You did!’ Toby sat up straighter in the chair and gazed at Tessa expectantly, his dark eyes suddenly growing more alert. He leaned forward slightly, his face quickening. ‘Well, go on, don’t leave me dangling. What did she say?’
After handing him his cup of tea, and motioning to the packets of sweeteners in a china bowl, Tessa sat back and said in a low, confidential voice, ‘She told me she’s not going to name a successor until the day she retires, and that won’t be for a long time. Mummy explained that she’d made a promise to her grandmother thirty years ago…that she wouldn’t retire until she felt she couldn’t run the stores properly any longer. Mummy indicated to me that she might stay until she’s
eighty
.’
‘Like Grandy Emma,’ Toby pointed out. ‘But you
know
that. And that’s
all
she said?’ His dark brows drew together in a frown.
‘More or less. She was very nice at the end of our conversation, very kind and loving—’ Tessa broke off, and took a sip of her tea, reminding herself not to spill the story of her bruised arm to her cousin. She didn’t want him to know about that. He would instantly put two and two together, even though her mother obviously hadn’t done so. Not yet. Placing the china cup in the saucer, Tessa continued, ‘That’s about it. The one good thing is she didn’t say Linnet was going to inherit. In fact, she said it might not be either of us, but someone else in the family.’
‘There isn’t anyone else,’ Toby asserted, putting his cup down with a clatter. ‘And I know it’s going to be
you,
Tessa. Aunt Paula wouldn’t cheat you out of your right, just as Dad won’t cheat me. I’m the eldest and I’m going to inherit the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company and its subsidiaries. Gideon will continue to run the papers, but
I’ll
be the head of the media company in Dad’s place. My baby brother will be working for me, just as Linnet will be working for you. That’s if she’s still at Harte’s.’
Tessa frowned, looked at him curiously. ‘What’re you getting at? Of course she’ll be at Harte’s. She’s very ambitious.’
‘And very involved…in love with Julian Kallinski. She might well be married and the mother of a brood of bairns by the time Aunt Paula steps down.’
‘She and Julian broke up—’
‘They’re back together, my sweet,’ he interrupted.
‘How do you know? Oh, I might well ask…Gideon told you, I’ve no doubt.’
‘No, he didn’t. However, I saw Linnet and Julian having dinner at Harry’s Bar the other night. Mind you, Gideon was with them, along with the dark-haired girl—’
‘Evan Hughes! I heard on the store grapevine that she’s having an affair with Gid. She works fast, doesn’t she? She met him in January and it’s only the end of March and they’re already bedding down together. My, my.’
Toby nodded. ‘It looks as if they’re very close, from the way they were behaving. Gideon hung on her every word, I’ve never seen him so…well, captivated. It’s always been love ’em and leave ’em with him. I used to call him the champion of one-night-standers, don’t you remember?’
‘Yes, I do. What do you think of Evan?’ Tessa asked.
‘I’ve only met her briefly, so I can’t really pass judgement.’
‘Do you think she looks like Mummy? A lot of people do.’
Toby sat back, his expression turning thoughtful, sipping his tea and then munching on a chocolate biscuit. After a moment, he answered her, saying, ‘At first glance Evan is the spitting image of Aunt Paula, but then when one studies her for a few minutes one realizes it’s all an illusion. The same exotic, dark colouring, the same height, the same figure, even similar clothes, but there it definitely stops. Because her face isn’t at all like your mother’s. The shape is different and she doesn’t have violet eyes, or the famous Harte widow’s peak.’
‘Shane himself did a double take,’ Tessa announced, giving him a pointed look.
Toby pursed his lips, shook his head. ‘I bet he did exactly what I did: looked quickly, registered surprise, and then realized it was only an illusion after a second glance.’
‘I
think she might be related to us.’
‘You
do?
But how could she be?’ Toby sounded surprised.
‘I’ve figured it out…through Paul McGill, Mummy’s grandfather. He spent a lot of time in America and Australia, and without Emma. He could easily have had an affair with someone else, probably in America, and that woman could have given birth to a child, and Evan could be an offspring of Paul McGill’s American child. His grandchild.’ After this explanation, which she thought was plausible, Tessa sat back. ‘Well, what do you think?’
‘It’s a possibility. I hadn’t thought of the Paul McGill side,’ Toby answered, ‘I must admit that.’
‘Maybe she came here to try and get something–you know, some kind of inheritance,’ Tessa suggested.
‘Don’t be daft! It’s all tied up, lashed together with steel ropes. Emma Harte saw to that, for the most part, and then your mother, my parents and Aunt Amanda followed her lead and her instructions to the nth degree. In fact, they took many more precautions, as you know. That’s why it’s a bit of a joke the way the seniors are upset because the notorious Jonathan Ainsley has returned to England. He can’t get anything either–well, maybe a few shares of Harte Stores that are traded on the London Stock Exchange.’
Tessa nodded. ‘I overheard my mother talking to your mother yesterday. She’d come over for a meeting with Linnet and Mummy about the birthday party in June. Apparently Mummy put a private investigator on him, but nothing untoward has been turned up so far.’
‘And perhaps it won’t be. Maybe he’s just come back to live here because he prefers London, and to be near his father. Uncle Robin’s quite frail, I hear. Of course, Jonathan will inherit his father’s money, and that’s a fortune.’
‘But Uncle Robin was a Member of Parliament all his life, a politician. I didn’t know he had a
fortune.’
‘Our great-grandmother loved him, despite his misdeeds at certain times. He
was
her favourite son, and I happen to know she not only created a trust for him, but gave him quite a lot before she died.’