by Dilys Xavier
The man gave a hearty laugh, ‘That’s the least of my worries, I’m more concerned about Pippa. What if she catches me having a kip in the afternoon.’
Over the next two weeks Richard supervised the installation of a number of cameras around the property and linked them up with every computer on the premises. The front and back doors, the stables, the outhouses and even the greenhouse was hooked up to a recording system. When it was completed he buried himself in the library again, transferring data to the programmes that he had installed to correlate everything. Then he began to think about the website.
*
Catherine watched the last piece of her furniture being placed in position and gave a sigh of relief. The removal men had gone out of their way to put everything exactly where she wanted, and they had spared no effort to please her. Of course, she had assured their co-operation by slipping them fifty pounds before they started loading. There’s nothing like a little bribery, she thought; it works wonders.
It wasn’t until she had finished dinner and cleaned up that Catherine suddenly realised how quiet it was. She had been accustomed to having people around her from a very early age; there had always been nannies, friends and members of staff on the premises. Cousin John had taken over the general management before Sir Hugh died and he had encouraged her to mix with his friends as well as her own. And even after Peter died she still had Josie and Ruben Lombard to reassure her and provide company. She had never been alone at the manor.
The situation had been the same in Ireland. There was always someone coming or going around Seamus’ farm. The children would be banging doors; Louise would be making her cups of tea and filling her in on all the latest local gossip. And of course, Liam had claimed a lot of her attention. But now? She was totally alone.
‘I suppose I’ll get used to it,’ she murmured, as she climbed into bed that night. She lay awake for a long time listening to the sounds of the countryside, and when she finally fell asleep, her dreams were filled with menacing figures and strange objects that made no sense.
After she had checked to make sure it was all right to collect her horses the next day, she arranged for the horse transport to meet her at Langley Hall. Richard was waiting for her outside the stables when she stepped from the car.
‘Lucille has given your horses a good feed and brushed their coats,’ he said brightly. Then he stopped. ‘Are you all right? You look rather tired.’
Catherine paused before answering him because she wanted to be in complete control of her emotions. But when she spoke her voice was tinged with weariness.
‘I’ve had a couple of busy days.’ She was just about to say the horse float should be here any minute now when it pulled into yard. As the driver reversed the vehicle into position she caught sight of the security cameras. When she looked towards the far end of the complex and saw another one, she turned to Richard. ‘Peter might still be alive if we’d thought of that idea.’
‘Well, we won’t be caught out again,’ Richard said, and waited until the horses were loaded and everyone was out of earshot before he spoke again in sotto voce. ‘Have you given any more thought to my proposal? I know you have your own place now, but I’m sure we can work together to maintain the good name of Langley Hall.’
‘Why should I do that?’ She heard herself say.
‘Why? Because ... because, I know it’s important to you.’ He coughed self-consciously. ‘And you’re important ... and...’ He stopped and lapsed into silence.
Catherine sighed deeply and then gently touched his hand.
‘Thank you for your concern, Richard. When Cecile spoke of your compassion I found it hard to believe, but I can see she was right.’ She jiggled the car keys noisily. ‘I will give it some thought. Just give me a bit of time.’
She settled the horses into their boxes and then exercised each one in turn. It was almost like old times. It wasn’t until she was tidying up after breakfast the next morning that she found she had no utensils with which to clean the house. There had always been someone else to vacuum the floors, wash down the kitchen surfaces, and clean the bathroom and toilet. She made a note of what she thought she would need, and drove to the nearest hardware store. Then she had a light lunch in the village pub.
That evening, she phoned a few friends and invited them over to see her new home. Most of them promised to call in when they had time, but no one made any definite arrangement; even Cecile was unsure when she could visit. By the time she went to bed, Catherine was feeling rather sorry for herself, and began to wonder whether she should have bought the place or not, and indeed if she should have left Ireland in such a rush.
I think I’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought, disconsolately. She moped around the place all morning. A man came to give her a quote to repair the fences, and another delivered the food for the horses. After they had gone, she mucked out the stables, exercised the animals, and then waited impatiently for the postman to arrive. A letter from Louise did little to comfort her. Apparently, Liam had called on her a number of times and had almost begged her to intercede on his behalf.
No thanks, she thought, anything was better than that. Even Richard’s proposal did not seem so outlandish now. Maybe she should read the letter again.
*
After Catherine had driven away, Richard returned to the library and spent the rest of the day working on his project. He attended a function at the golf club that evening and was bordering on the legal limit when he finally said goodnight and drove home. The thought of where he was now popped into his mind as he stepped out of the car and stared up at the imposing building in front of him. Yes, it was home now. It had all changed when he became involved with what was going on day by day. And working on the website had bound him more closely the place.
Still unhappy with the way he had set up the computer in the study, he asked Leslie to help him move the furniture again. When they unloaded a bookcase and pulled it clear of the wall it revealed a jumble of old papers and odds and ends. While they waited for Pippa to bring in the vacuum cleaner, Richard sifted through the rubbish. He started to crunch up a few pieces of paper and then stopped and unwrapped one of them to reveal a beautiful ring that flashed rainbow colours when he lifted it up to the light. He was amazed at the beauty of the rich honey coloured square cut topaz surrounded by pure white diamonds. He was no judge of jewellery, but guessed the gems were all set in what looked like platinum, and felt convinced this was a valuable piece that must have cost a great deal of money.
As Pippa came into the room he unconsciously slipped it into his pocket. When the changes had been made to his satisfaction he returned to his task of gathering information for the website. Later that night, he dug the ring out his pocket and set it on the dressing table. It was quite old and he could imagine it being worn by an elderly woman. So who did it belong to, he mused. And how did it get down behind the bookcase?
Maybe Catherine knew something about it. She may have seen a photograph of someone wearing it, or heard her step-father mention that it had been lost. In any case she would probably like it as a keepsake. He scribbled her name across the front of an envelope and placed the ring inside and promised himself to post it to her in the near future.
However, when the envelope caught his eye the next morning he decided it might be better to deliver it in person. After all it was probably too valuable to risk in the post. He rang to see if it was convenient to call on her, but the house phone continued to ring unanswered and she had evidently turned off her mobile. For some reason something was telling him to take it over straight away, so as soon as he had finished breakfast he headed for her property.
*
While Richard was driving over the country roads to Catherine’s home, she was placing Misty back in her box. She had spent most of the morning exercising and attending to the horses in an attempt to take her mind off other thoughts. Thoughts like, What am I doing here by myself, and what future does this pla
ce hold for me, and what can I expect from life now? She patted the animal affectionately and made her way back to the house.
It started quite insidiously. She sniffed back a tear and then dabbed her eyes dry until the dam burst and the pent-up tears began to flow. Catherine didn’t really know why she was crying. Maybe it was because she was alone, maybe because she had finally accepted that she had lost Langley Hall. Or, maybe it was because there had been so much change in her life recently. She knew that the body can take only a certain amount of stress before it begins to break down. Had she crossed that threshold?
What’s wrong with me? She asked herself as she began to sob. I’ve never been given to tears before. Why am I carrying on this way, now? She blew her nose noisily, and reached for another tissue. When she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle she willed them to go away. ‘Just drive back out the gate and go away whoever you are,’ she moaned. But as the doorbell chimed she knew it was already too late.
She opened the front door to find Richard standing on the porch.
‘I hope I haven’t intruded,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘I tried to phone but I couldn’t get an answer.’
Catherine stared at him for a long moment before speaking. Why did he have to come at this precise moment? He was about the last person in the world she wanted to see right now. He had caught her off completely off guard, and made her feel very vulnerable. Finally she found her tongue.
‘I’ve been out - busy with the horses.’ She tried to give a little laugh, but it came out sounding strange. ‘What did you want?’
‘I found a ring, a very old ring; found it behind a bookcase in the study.’ He pulled the envelope from his jacket. ‘I was going to post it, but I thought it might get lost.’ When she made no comment he continued. ‘I think it could be very valuable.’ As she took the envelope and stuffed it in her pocket he looked at her more closely. ‘Are you all right? I don’t like to see you distressed like this.’
Catherine hesitated as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again.
‘Yes,’ she gulped. ‘I’ll be all right, thank you.’ Then a tear slid down her cheek.
Without any conscious thought he stepped forward and grasped her hand. Almost at once he felt that he was intruding, but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Have you hurt yourself? Do you need to see a doctor? I’ll drive you there if you like.’
‘No, I ... I’m all right.’ Then her normal desire to be hospitable forced her to say, ‘Come in, Richard, I can’t talk to you standing out here.’ She led him through to the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ He watched Catherine fill the kettle and became even more aware of her distressed state now. Her normally clear blue eyes were red and puffy, and she sniffed continually as if she were trying to hold back more tears. He felt at a loss to know what to do, because he had no idea what had happened to upset her. It must be something serious, he thought, because she’s too controlled to allow little things to bother her.
Catherine handed him a cup, and pushed the sugar bowl across the table to him. She took a sip and then put the cup down, toying with the spoon as she tried to think clearly. I need to talk to someone, she thought, but can I talk to him?
‘How are you settling in?’ she asked, to break the silence.
‘I’m coming to grips with things, but it’s slow,’ Richard replied, with a forced laugh. ‘I’ve kept myself busy working on the website, installing the surveillance equipment and rearranging the study.’
‘What website?’
‘That’s how if found the ring,’ he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘It had evidently fallen down behind the bookcase. I moved the thing to make space for my computer stuff.’
Catherine pulled the envelope out her pocket and pulled out the ring. Almost at once her eyes filled with tears again. She bit her lip as she gently rang her fingers over its surface.
‘It was my mother’s,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘She gave to me just before she died.’ She choked back a sob. ‘I was young; didn’t realise its value, and I lost it. I searched everywhere for it over the years, but ... ‘
‘I can’t imagine how it got behind the bookcase,’ Richard said. ‘I never would have found it if we hadn’t pulled it right clear of the wall. Anyway, I’m pleased that I’ve been able to bring you some good news that might cheer you up.’
She bit her lip, obviously too emotional to trust herself to say anything.
Richard reached over the table to touch her hand lightly. ‘Catherine, I wish, oh, how I wish that I could put everything right for you.’
‘Is that what you were trying to tell me in the letter?’
‘I guess so. I had this crazy idea that we could both live under the same roof, and somehow run the place together without necessarily becoming too involved.’ Richard sighed. ‘But I’m afraid I just didn’t express myself very clearly.’
‘It really is a crazy idea, and I’ve had enough of people trying to suggest how I should live my life.’ She banged the cup down on the table. ‘My cousin’s neighbour for one. He not only wanted me to get involved with his business and marry him, but he wanted me to mother his daughter as well.’ She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t on.’
Richard was amazed at the many facets this woman could portray. The icy cold indifference had given way to a sensitive fragility, and then exploded into an angry protest against life’s quirks and seeming injustices. On one hand, he wanted to escape from the possibility of being blamed for her misfortune, and on the other he wanted to offer her his friendship. He was about to say something, when Catherine gave a bitter little laugh.
‘I was so desperate to escape from that situation that I bought this place in a hurry. And now I’m wondering what I’m going to do next.’ She picked up the spoon and began toying with it again. ‘We both seem to have placed ourselves in a predicament that is not conducive to our well-being.’
‘Well, were do we go from here?’
‘We?’ She gave a little smile.
‘I meant it in a broad sense,’ Richard said, a shade too quickly. ‘I suppose things will work out for us both, sooner or later.’ He stood up. ‘But right now, I’d better go and let you get on with things.’
Catherine remained seated as he stood up and made his way out of the house. When she heard the door close she was unexpectedly reminded of her conversation with Cecile and all the nice things her friend had said about him. Maybe this was an opportunity too good to miss. Suddenly she knew she had to trust him; trust him enough to understand herself. She sprang to her feet and dashed out of the house.
‘Don’t go,’ she cried, as he was about to open the car door. ‘Please. I’d like you to stay for a while.’ When he hesitated, she walked towards him. ‘We need to talk or rather, I need to talk.’ She paused and then continued. ‘If you’re prepared to listen.
‘I think that’s a good idea.’
‘First of all please let me apologise for being so ungrateful.’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘You were kind enough to return the ring in person and I didn’t even bother to thank you.’
Slowly and without thinking he slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s take a walk first. It’s easier to talk when you’re walking. Things flow better.’
After they had strolled slowly around the property she led him back to the stables. By the time she had fondled the horses and given each one a carrot she was clearly more relaxed. Richard looked up at the sky and then at his watch.
‘Let’s go somewhere for lunch. The Frog and Bulrush is not far away; we could try there if you like.’
Catherine reluctantly agreed. She did not want to be seen out in public with red and puffy eyes, but she did not feel up to preparing anything herself. If she put on a pair of sunglasses it might help, anyway it was most unlikely that they would meet anyone they knew in a little country pub. Ten minutes later she returned to the sitting room where she had left him wh
ile she changed and repaired her makeup.
They drove to the pub in silence, each busy with their own thoughts. He was surprised when she asked for a beer rather than whiskey or vodka, but he was pleased because it seemed as if she was making a statement – almost as if she was accepting an aspect of his life. The meal was well cooked, well presented and very tasty, and when they had finished, Richard suggested having another drink by the fireside in the lounge.
Cosseted together in front of the warming flames Catherine began to talk. Richard had the distinct impression that it was a continuation of their conversation at Langley Hall on the evening of the charity appeal. She filled in a lot of gaps in her former explanation of the events that had moulded her life and way of thinking.
Richard glanced at her surreptitiously as he recalled the first time they had met; the day of John Sinclair’s funeral. He recalled how she had rebuked him and questioned his right to be in Langley Hall. ‘With whom did you come here?’ she had demanded. She had projected such righteous indignation that he had been awe-struck by her steely resolve and haughty manner. But now? It was as if he were listening to another person entirely. When she lapsed into silence he picked up the thread of her words and began to relate how he felt about the prevailing situation.
They talked and drank the afternoon away and all too soon the shadows began to creep across the pub courtyard. Richard looked up as the publican picked up their empty glasses and shook his head when the man asked if they wanted a refill.
‘No, it’s getting late, I think we’d better go,’ he said, helping Catherine to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s get you home while we’re both sober.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right to drive?’ She giggled as he fumbled for the keys. ‘Maybe we should get a taxi. It might be safer.’ Then she became serious. ‘I don’t want anything else to go wrong.’
