‘Mr Niven and I hope you may be able to help us with some business concerning Mr Murray,’ she said briskly. ‘It won’t take long. Do you have time to answer a few questions now?’ She met his eyes defiantly. She saw the sparkle of amusement and watched it turn to surprise, and then to anger.
‘Of all the …’ Bloody hell! Was this the same sexy woman he had almost gone to bed with? He looked back at the cool grey stare, the firm mouth. She could have been a stranger, meeting him for the first time. He almost wished they were meeting for the first time. His expression grew grim. Well, if that’s how she wanted it, he could be cold and distant too. But deep down he felt shaken, and … and what? Disappointed? Cheated? He gave his head a swift shake.
‘Come into the office,’ he said curtly. He wished he’d tidied up a bit. There was scarcely a place for her to sit, especially in her immaculate business suit.
‘I suppose you know your mother entrusted Mr Murray with her vase, after he advised her of its possible value?’
‘Vase?’ Conan blinked trying to concentrate on what she was saying.
‘Yes, the vase she kept on the mantle shelf in the dining room. Did she tell you she had entrusted Mr Murray to take it to the London auctioneers to get an expert valuation, and possibly to sell it?’ Fiona knew her tone was impatient, but Conan was staring at her, instead of concentrating on what she was saying, and he unnerved her.
‘I didn’t know, or if I knew, I’ve forgotten. Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters, especially to your mother.’ Fiona explained about Mr Murray’s silence, his failure to answer her letters. ‘Your mother was terribly hurt. We had begun to think he was trying to cheat her.’
‘I’m sure he’d never do that! Mark’s family were really decent people! All except his aunt, anyway.’
‘Aah!’ Fiona said with satisfaction. ‘Can you tell us anything about Miss Pierce?’
‘Us? Who wants to know?’ Conan demanded warily.
‘Well,’ Fiona sighed, before continuing defiantly, ‘you may think I’m interfering, but I only wanted to help your mother to carry out her – her plans …’
‘Plans? What plans?’
‘Er, well, if she didn’t tell you what she intended to do, then I can’t tell you either, but she did come to Mr Niven for advice and I was assisting him. So …’
‘I see, so my mother trusted you before her own son? Her own flesh and blood! And you’ve made a mess of it! Now you’re asking me to get you out of it! Well, you can …’
‘No! You’ve got it all wrong. It’s not like that!’
But Conan was glad to give vent to the anger boiling within him and he didn’t care that he was jumping to wrong conclusions. He just wanted to shatter the cool composure of the young woman who could get under his skin as no other ever had.
‘Not like what?’ he sneered. ‘The clever Miss Sinclair giving my mother bad advice and then coming whining to me to help find an excuse! Well, I’m …’
‘Shut up and listen!’ Fiona snapped.
Conan’s eyed widened. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak Fiona went on quietly, ‘Mr Murray is dead.’
‘Dead? Mark’s father is dead?’ Conan slumped against a cupboard.
‘Yes, that must be the reason your mother received no replies to her letters. I’m going over to tell her when I leave you, but first we wanted to know about Mr Murray’s family.’ She drew out the newspaper cutting reporting the forthcoming sale of the vase in London. ‘I saw this by chance. It looks like the same vase to me. Do you think it is? If so, and it seems it may be worth a lot of money, just as he said, would Mr Murray’s family try to pretend he had bought it from your mother?’
‘He had no family. Mark and Bobby were both killed during the war. His wife … Well, I’m not sure. I think she has been in and out of a mental hospital since Bobby’s death.’
‘Think back, please. For your mum’s sake, not mine,’ Fiona urged. ‘Tell me anything you can remember. Were they likely to be in debt?’
‘Oh no, I shouldn’t think so. At least, not the Murrays, not then. Of course, I know it cost a lot of money each time Mrs Murray had to go into hospital, because the government hadn’t started this new free health policy then. Even so, I got the impression they were quite well off when I visited with Mark. They had a lovely big house in Derbyshire …’ Conan had forgotten Fiona now. He frowned in concentration.
‘Mark didn’t have many relations but his mother had an older sister – half-sister anyway. Aunt Cynthia, but he used to call her “Aunt Sinister”. He spoke quite bitterly about her whenever he had been home on leave. He felt she didn’t want his mother to come to terms with Bobby’s death. She kept raking up everything about him, and going on and on. I remember clearly, after one leave, Mark looked exhausted when he came back to camp. His mother was having treatment for her nerves. “My aunt would drive me up the bloody wall and over the top of it, if I had to put up with her every day,” he said. The next time we had leave, he came up to Lochandee, instead of going home. He came several times after that. He couldn’t understand why his father didn’t tell his aunt to go home and leave his mother in peace. Later, he told me she had given up her house and moved in permanently with his parents, because his mother felt sorry for her. His father felt she’d brought on her own troubles with her jealousy and spite.’ Conan looked at Fiona. ‘If Mr Murray is dead, then I suppose that means his wife is at the mercy of her sister now?’
‘I don’t know. We only know that the person who had put the vase in for valuation and possible sale has since died and that he lived in Derbyshire. The executors of his estate have instructed the auctioneers to go ahead with the sale and it’s expected to fetch a record price. Mr Niven …’ Fiona coloured. ‘Well, he asked me to draft a letter asking for more details and querying the sale. He signed it,’ she added defensively. ‘I-I just hoped I could get some good news for your mum. But it was her decision to entrust the vase to Mr Murray. She only came to the office for advice afterwards …’
‘I see …’ Conan’s mouth tightened. ‘It seems you are more in my mother’s confidence than I am anyway.’
Fiona bit her lip. She guessed he was hurt that his mother had not confided in him. She could only hope he would understand when Mrs Maxwell told him what she had hoped to achieve. Somehow, she got the feeling he still held her responsible in some way. There was nothing she could do about that.
Conan watched moodily as she walked back to her car and drove away.
Chapter Thirteen
IT WAS ALMOST THE end of their honeymoon and Nick and Bridie couldn’t believe a whole week had flown so quickly. They lay in the big feather bed in the cottage by the sea. The curtains were open and the morning sun glinted on the white-tipped waves which seemed to be dancing almost into the room as they watched, entranced by the continual movement of the ocean. The island of Ailsa Craig was visible in the clear morning light but at night it was hidden from sight and only the silver path of the moon stretched mysteriously to a realm of pure delight.
‘There’s pleased I am, managing to make you forget your animals for once,’ Nick grinned as he looked down into his wife’s dreamy eyes.
‘I have barely given them a thought,’ Bridie confessed. ‘I’m so glad you arranged for us to have this time on our own, Nick. It’s been absolute bliss.’
‘No regrets, is it then, bach, having to cook on your honeymoon? Wanted you to myself I did, but it’s pampered in a posh hotel you should have been.’
‘No-o, I’m glad we came here. We’ve hardly done any cooking anyway, with Mrs Bonnie leaving us a meal ready every evening. The hotel was a delightful experience but I felt so – so …’
‘Newly married and shy, was it.’ Nick chuckled. ‘I guessed you might. Mind you, there’s a wanton woman I’m having for a wife now, and only a week on our own together. No idea I had …’
‘Och, you!’ Bridie aimed a fist at him. He caught it and opened her fingers one by one
to place a kiss in her palm before he drew her into his arms. ‘Are you regretting marrying me then?’ she whispered against his lips, ‘I could always go back to being the shy Miss Maxwell, if you would prefer …?’ She looked up at him under her thick lashes and her eyes were bright with laughter.
‘I wouldn’t – and you couldn’t. It’s the love of my life you are now, Bridie.’ Nick’s voice was husky as he kicked the bedclothes to the side.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asked softly, knowing full well by now what his answer would be.
‘Passionately. Eat you all up, shall I …’ He grinned, pretending to nibble her smooth, warm skin, moving his lips until the rosy pink nipples hardened and he felt her quiver with a desire to match his own.
‘Dear God, it’s the luckiest man alive, I am,’ he said hoarsely a while later.
‘So shy you were, Bridie. Wondered, I did, whether I could be patient enough. There’s feared I was of alarming you. So much I wanted you, so long … Life is more wonderful than I ever dared to dream.’
‘I wanted you too, Nick,’ Bridie said softly, ‘But I was always a little … afraid. Mum was so emphatic about not making love before marriage. Even before I knew you, when I was quite young, she warned me. It was as though … as though, oh, I don’t know. She seemed to believe it could only lead to unhappiness. Now I feel free, with nothing to fear, and I do love you so much.’
Nick kissed her gently. ‘I wish we didn’t have to return to the real world quite so soon,’ he sighed. ‘Will you mind very much if I’ve given you a baby, Bridie?’
‘I’d love a baby, Nick. Well, your baby, anyway,’ she grinned provocatively.
‘It had better not be anyone else’s, Bridget Mhairi Jones! Seriously, Bridie, I wish our house had been ready for us to move into, but it looks as though it may take a few weeks yet. The builder is way over the time he said.’
‘It will soon pass, and at least I have a big bed to share with you at Glens of Lochandee,’ she teased.
‘A-ah and there’s the most important thing, eh?’
‘When Mum and Dad were first married, they had to share the house with Aunt Alice, and Beth was a live-in maid then as well.’
‘Yes, well, I expect we shall survive for a little while, so long as that young brother of yours doesn’t come barging in on us unannounced!’
‘Gosh, I hadn’t thought about Ewan …’ Bridie blushed at such a prospect.
When they arrived back at Glens of Lochandee, Bridie was dismayed to see her father looking pale and haggard and she noticed he barely ate anything when Conan joined them for supper.
‘Is Dad unwell?’ she asked her mother as they stood side by side washing and drying the dishes.
‘He’s complained of feeling sickly recently, even before the wedding. I couldn’t persuade him to see Doctor MacEwan until yesterday. He has prescribed some stomach powders. He thinks it may be an ulcer.’
‘Oh surely not! I’ve never known Dad be ill before – I mean, really ill.’
‘No, he’s always had a healthy constitution, but he’s not as young as he was when we bought Glens of Lochandee, and …’
‘But, Mum, 47 isn’t old, and Dad has always seemed so young and fit.’
‘Yes, he has, hasn’t he?’ Rachel smiled. ‘But I think he’s worrying a bit. In a way, the war helped us pay our debt to the bank when we bought Lochandee. Prices held steady and there was a demand for everything we could produce. He’s afraid there may be changes now the war is over, as there were after the First World War. There was no market for anything then, however hard people worked on the farms. That would be the end for all of us, if we can’t repay the money to the bank. Bill Carr’s death was a blow too, and Harry Mason’s death was a terrible shock. He was only the same age as your father. I expect it’s the combined effect of everything that has upset his stomach.’ She patted Bridie’s shoulder. ‘He’s missed you too. He’s realised how much responsibility you take for the dairy and the cows, and he’s not looking forward to you being away at Nether Rullion.’
‘Oh, but I shall come back every day for the milking. Nick says he’ll check over my bicycle and get a new tyre for it.’ She grinned. ‘Nothing will keep me away.’
‘Maybe not,’ Rachel murmured doubtfully. Looking into her daughter’s radiant face she wondered how long it would be before she became a grandmother. She was not sure whether the idea appealed to her or not, but she did know a baby would prevent Bridie cycling all the way from Nether Rullion every morning.
‘Don’t look so worried, Mum,’ Bridie chided gently. ‘As far as prices are concerned, I can’t see how the government can change its present policy while there is such a shortage of all the main foods we eat. There was so much devastation in other countries too, or so Conan and Nick say. I’m sure Dad will soon see things are going to be all right, especially when Frank and Emmie move back here at the end of November.’
‘Yes, I expect you’re right, dear,’ Rachel smiled back. ‘It’s so much easier to be optimistic when you’re young and strong, though.’ She frowned. ‘I hadn’t meant to tell you this, Bridie, but I gave my vase to Mr Murray and asked him to sell it. I wanted to build the house at Nether Rullion so that Dad and I could live there, with Ewan, of course. I knew how much happier you would be if you could stay here, especially when you already own half the land and dairy herd. Besides, I thought it would be easier for your father, and better for Ewan too. He’ll inherit Nether Rullion one day, unless he changes his mind about wanting to be a farmer.’
‘I don’t think he’ll ever do that! But Mum, what a pity you’ve sacrificed your vase. You didn’t really believe it was worth enough to pay for a house, did you?’
‘Mr Murray seemed fairly sure it was because it was an unusual shape and he said it bore the initials of the potter. He promised to get an expert’s opinion, but I never heard from him again.’
‘But even so …’
‘Fiona has seen an article in one of the London newspapers about a vase. She said it looked like mine as far as she could tell. She believes Mr Murray was right. Someone else is claiming ownership of the vase in the sale, though, and Fiona thinks someone may be trying to cheat me out of it.’
‘Oh surely not! It’s not like Fiona to let her imagination run riot.’
‘No, she’s intelligent and shrewd and I trust her judgement implicitly, but it seems Mr Murray has died. Fiona came to see me yesterday and she thinks that’s the reason I’ve never heard from him. She suspects his sister-in-law may be claiming the vase, either as her own, or as part of his estate. Then her sister would be the beneficiary, but she would benefit indirectly too.’
‘How awful – I mean for Mr Murray to die so soon. Surely his sister-in-law would not be so mean and dishonest?’
‘Well, we don’t know for certain, and it will not be easy to prove it is my vase. I’ve no receipt or anything. I acted foolishly, I realise that now. I thought I was doing the best thing for everyone and I did so want to give you a surprise. Nick knew. That’s why he agreed to build the house at Nether Rullion. Now I feel I have let him down too.’
‘Nick knew? He never said!’
‘It was to be a surprise for you.’
‘And he agreed to live here at Glens of Lochandee?’
‘Yes, if I could afford to build the house at Nether Rullion. I don’t think he minds where he lives, just so long as he can be independent and have you to himself in his own home. He loves you very much.’
‘I know,’ Bridie said softly. ‘But I didn’t realise just how much. I’m sorry you parted with your vase, Mum. I know how you treasured it, whether it was worth a lot of money or not.’ She gave Rachel an impulsive hug. ‘I shall do my best to see Dad isn’t overworked or worried.’
Jordon Niven had discussed the story of the vase with his father Jacob, and been astonished to find him just as indignant as his attractive assistant, and equally keen to see Mrs Rachel Maxwell receive justice. Consequently, he had applied to the
auctioneers to have the proceeds from the sale withheld until the true owner could be established beyond doubt. The auctioneers had written to say this was not possible, unless they were furnished with more proof.
Fiona decided to travel down to Derbyshire to see Miss Pierce and find out whether the woman was intentionally claiming the vase, or whether she had genuinely believed it was Mr Murray’s. She felt partially responsible, because it was on her account that Mr Murray had visited the Maxwells and she had benefited greatly from his advice. More galling, she knew Conan blamed her. She insisted on making the journey in her own time and at her own expense. Jordon Niven had just agreed, albeit with some doubts, when Nick came into the office in a rare state of anger.
Looking at him, Fiona realised for the first time that Nicholas Jones was not the placid, easy-going man she had first thought. On the contrary, he was something of a sleeping tiger. Tall, slim hips, long-legged and with his dark wavy hair, she could see exactly how Bridie had been attracted to him. Still, as he stood towering over her desk, shoulders erect, his square jaw jutting, she knew he would make a formidable opponent. In his anger, his Welsh accent was accentuated and the words tumbled forth in a torrent.
‘You’ve had a quarrel with the builder? But why? What’s happened?’
‘Didn’t expect me to turn up so near the end of the day, did he? There’s loading cement and bricks onto a lorry they were, taking them away to another site! Another site’, he repeated through gritted teeth. ‘My materials, for my house! Driving our own truck, I was. Thought I’d call at the farm on my way back to the garage. One of the labourers thought I’d come to collect some wood. “I’ll load your boards in a minute, mate,” he calls. Didn’t know what he meant, did I? Asked a few questions, I did. There’s Brady, the bast –’ Nick bit his lip, his mouth tight with anger. Jordon Niven appeared at the communicating door but he didn’t interrupt Nick’s tirade. ‘Siphoning off the materials allocated for my house, he was. There’s a thief and a cheat he is, and getting backhanders no doubt. Know now, don’t I, why he kept telling me the bricks, or the wood, or the sand had never been delivered. Unsuitable! Or any old excuse to explain the delay. Told him to clear out, I have! Blustered and swore, he did, demanded money too, immediately! Compensation for breaking the contract, is it? Not from me. Needing some legal advice, I am. He …’
The Legacy of Lochandee Page 13
