Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga)

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “Peculiar,” Linnet replied, then carefully told them about the conversation Paula had had with Sarah earlier that morning, not missing one detail.

  The two women were startled to hear that Angharad was with Jonathan in Paris, but it was Marietta who was the most disturbed. She had blanched when Linnet embarked on the story, and now she looked as if she was about to burst into tears. Evan appeared calmer, and she discovered she was not all that surprised to learn that Angharad had hooked up with Jonathan; it had seemed a probability to her ever since her mother had relayed the story of their odd encounter in the village store.

  “I had a horrible sinking feeling that something like this would happen,” Evan remarked, looking from one woman to the other. She gave her mother a long, piercing glance. “Glynnis once said something to me about bad seed in reference to Angharad, and she was quite prophetic, don’t you think, Mom?”

  Marietta could only nod.

  “She’s not only promiscuous and greedy but selfish and careless, and far too casual about her life. Not to mention utterly disloyal,” Evan said in a cold voice. “My God, she’d sell us all out for a hot night in bed with Ainsley and a few glittering toys.”

  “Lots of nights in bed with him, and lots of glittering toys,” Linnet corrected. “But that’s her business. I’d like to discuss my business with you.”

  Evan nodded but made no comment.

  It was Marietta who exclaimed, “How could she do this? Get involved with the man who is the family’s deadly enemy. It’s unbelievable!”

  “Did she know that?” Linnet wondered out loud. “Did she realize he was the enemy?”

  “Sure she did!” Evan cried, her anger suddenly coming to the surface. “She’s heard us discuss Jonathan, heard us complain how troublesome and dangerous he is. But she doesn’t care, because she doesn’t care about us. She never has. There’s something oddly detached about her, and that dates back to our childhood. She was a nasty kid, and she hasn’t changed. Talk about self-involved, she takes the prize.”

  Marietta suddenly exclaimed, “She has now become our enemy.”

  “Indeed she has,” Linnet agreed, “and that’s what I want to talk to you about, Marietta … Evan.” Leaning forward, pinning her eyes on them, she continued. “We know what Angharad’s up to, in the sense that we know she’s after him, and she’s also after his money. You’ve made that clear. She wants bed, board, and bling. But what is he after? My mother is worried that J.A. sees her as a conduit to the Hartes, and especially to you, Evan, and also Gideon. She’s part of your family, your sister, and it would be so easy for her to find out everything about your life, your movements, your plans.”

  “Oh, no, not from me she won’t!” Evan shook her head vehemently. “She’s been off my list for quite a while now. I don’t want anything to do with her, not ever again.”

  “And neither do I,” Marietta announced, pulling herself up in her chair, endeavoring to bring her swimming senses together. “Angharad has gone over to the other side, and therefore I shall cut her out of my life.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Linnet offered Marietta a warm smile, reached out and touched her hand resting on the kitchen table. “I’m sorry she’s betrayed you, all of you, but now that she has shown her true colors, you can’t have anything to do with her. None of you—”

  “But I just said that,” Marietta cut in.

  “I know. However, what about Owen and Elayne? Where would they stand if they knew? Where will they stand when they do know?”

  “Next to us,” Evan answered. “We’ll be standing side by side. Elayne, for sure, knows she’s a … bitch.”

  “That’s true,” Marietta concurred. “And Owen understands what she is. I don’t believe we have to worry about him or Elayne.”

  “But they must be told,” Linnet pointed out. “They must know she’s with Jonathan Ainsley, must know everything I’ve told you today. Will you call Owen, Marietta? Or do you want me to do it?”

  Marietta hesitated.

  Evan said, “I’ll call Dad.”

  “No.” Marietta shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

  “Mom, please. I think that’s a bad idea.”

  “You know what … I should call him,” Linnet now interjected. “If I call, there will be more of an impact.”

  “Probably,” Marietta murmured.

  Evan nodded.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll phone him later today at the shop in Connecticut, and I’ll explain that Angharad has to be totally ostracized.” Linnet paused, took a drink of water, and added, “Of course, there is just the possibility that she’s not a conduit to us, and that J.A. has truly fallen for her, is interested only in her, just as Sarah believes.”

  “Let’s not take any chances,” Marietta remarked. “Angharad has always been jealous of Evan, seen herself as the neglected child. She got it into her head years ago that we favored Evan and Elayne, and she would often accuse me of holding Evan up as the shining example of excellence, showing Evan off as the star, as she put it. And nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “She’s bitter,” Evan said in a subdued voice, feeling cold and uneasy.

  “You know, Marietta, Angharad is not likely to be in touch with Evan, but she may well phone you from Paris. After all, you’re her mother.”

  Marietta shook her head. “No, she won’t, Linnet.”

  “Doesn’t she stay in touch?”

  “Not really.”

  “She might call you to boast, though,” Evan suggested.

  “Oh, definitely,” Marietta said. “If she’s got something worthwhile to boast about.”

  “About Angharad,” Marietta began, when they were finally alone. “What I wanted to say, Evan, is that—”

  “Please, Mom, I don’t want to talk about Angharad. Or Jonathan Ainsley,” Evan interrupted. “Not right now. I’m much more interested in talking about your separation from Dad.”

  Marietta walked across the sitting room and sat down in the large armchair near the fireplace. After a moment, she said, “There’s not much more to tell. Your father and I have separated, and that’s that. As I told you, he seemed indifferent, as if he couldn’t care less.”

  “I don’t mean now, Mom, I mean years ago. Earlier. Before Linnet arrived, you told me you had left my father when I was little. Why?”

  Marietta leaned back in the chair, crossed her legs, stared into the distance, as if looking at times past. In a sense, that was what she was doing. “I want to be honest with you,” she answered finally. “As honest as I can possibly be, Evan. I owe you that. Things were not all that great between us when you were small, but that wasn’t the real reason I left your father then.”

  “So why did you?” Evan probed, anxious to understand at last about her parents’ marriage. Lately it had baffled her.

  “Because I … I fell in love with another man.”

  Evan stared at Marietta, momentarily startled, and then, recovering herself swiftly, she asked, “Who was he? Tell me about him.”

  “His name was Val Timball, and we’d known him in London, your father and I. He was an artist and set designer, very talented, mostly working in the theater in the West End. He came to New York to do the sets for a Broadway show, and we saw a lot of him. During the months he was living in Manhattan, something happened between us—we fell in love with each other. He’d always had a yen for me, and I was very unhappy with your father by then. Val and I became involved, very heavily. When he went back to London, he begged me to go with him. He wanted me to get a divorce and marry him. I couldn’t do it, Evan. I realized I couldn’t leave you.”

  “But you just said you left Dad.”

  “I did go to London, yes. But only because Val became very ill. His sister Solange told me he was begging to see me, so I went, intending to spend only a few days. But I loved him so much I had to stay with him. And he needed me. I told your father I had left him because I wanted to be with Val, and he went crazy. He flew ove
r immediately, made a helluva stink, and stormed out again without really listening to me or trying to understand. He vowed to divorce me for adultery. His behavior antagonized me more than ever.”

  “And you stayed with Val for how long, Mom?”

  “Only a few weeks. You see, as it turned out, Val was dying. He had a rare form of leukemia.” Marietta’s voice quavered, and she stopped, took a deep breath.

  After a moment she began again, speaking softly. “It was impossible for me to leave him to die alone. Not when we loved each other the way we did. But he didn’t last long, not even a month. I felt my whole world had fallen apart that summer. Val was dead. Your father was determined to divorce me. And he’d vowed that I would never see you again. That he wouldn’t allow it.”

  Stunned for a moment, Evan sat waiting for Marietta to continue, as she knew her mother eventually would.

  “It was your grandmother who intervened. She was furious with your father, told him that he was being immature, that he was lacking in compassion,” Marietta explained. “She talked us both into getting back with each other. He didn’t really want to, and in a way, neither did I. Because by then I understood we couldn’t really be happy.” Marietta sighed heavily and shook her head. “I did go back to him, but only because of you. I wanted to bring you up, love you, be a good mother.”

  “He took me away from you, though, didn’t he? Isn’t that the best way to describe what happened?”

  “Yes. It was kind of a retaliation, I think.”

  “Is that when your depression started?”

  Marietta nodded, and her face became taut with tension as she continued to talk. “It just came over me one day. I couldn’t get out of bed. I had very dark feelings all of a sudden. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. At first, I thought I was sad because of Val’s death.” She shook her head vehemently. “It was awful. I lived in a dark world. Then suddenly the depression lifted, and I was fine. Six months would go by, and then something would trigger the depression again, and I’d stay in bed afraid of everything, of everyone. Terrified, actually. Eventually, of course, I saw a doctor, got help, medicine.”

  “I remember how you gradually seemed to get better, Mom, when I was growing up. But I also remember how you’d suddenly be ill again, and seemingly for no reason.”

  “I might still be like that if it weren’t for my Aunt Dottie, God bless her. She’s the one who sent me to a new doctor last year, told me to get a life. And—”

  “That’s what you’re doing,” Evan interrupted. “Good for you, Mom! You have a right to be happy. And so does Dad. Maybe he’ll be better off alone, too.”

  “I think he will, Evan. And I bear him no ill will, you know.”

  “I realize that. It’s not your nature. Do you want to talk some more about your depression?” Evan now asked, looking at her mother intently. “I’m happy to listen if it helps.”

  “Perhaps another day, honey. I’m worried about Jonathan Ainsley at this moment. Do you think he’ll try to hurt you and Gideon, Evan?”

  “Not at the moment. I think he’s too busy with Angharad. And by the way, Mom, I tend to go along with Sarah Pascal. I think that J.A. has fallen hard for Angharad and that he’s not trying to get information out of her about us.” Evan suddenly began to laugh. “He might even be suspicious of her! He might believe she’s been sent to spy on him by us. Wouldn’t that be a laugh?”

  “I suppose so,” Marietta concurred, although without much enthusiasm. “I can’t help worrying about you, worrying about your safety.”

  “Everything’s going to be all right. We’ve lots of security, in every possible way, even though you might not be aware of it.”

  “Do you mean bodyguards, that kind of thing?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m fully protected at all times, as are all the Hartes. Try to relax, Mom. Jonathan’s not going to win, he’s not going to get the better of us.”

  “Isn’t there anything the family can do about him interfering in your lives?” Marietta asked.

  “I’m afraid not, Mom. You see, he himself never does anything. He employs others to do his dirty work, and even then it’s impossible to prove,” Evan pointed out.

  “Perhaps he’ll get his comeuppance,” Marietta muttered, thinking out loud. She gave Evan a knowing look as she added, “Perhaps Angharad will be his downfall. With a little luck.”

  Later, after Marietta had left, Evan lay on the sofa in front of the fire, half dozing and thinking about her mother’s life. It hadn’t been very happy for the most part; in fact, it had been quite hard at times. But then life was never easy, it never had been actually, not for anyone. And for some it could even be catastrophic.

  Evan was glad her mother had found her way out of that awful maze of depression and loneliness, and she understood perfectly well why Marietta wanted to live in London now. A new beginning, a fresh start, Evan thought suddenly. This is a wonderful chance of renewal for her: a new apartment, in a town she knows and loves, the great expectation of being a grandmother, of watching the boys grow, of being with me, having me to herself without Dad’s interference.

  As she dozed off, a smile settled on Evan’s face. She was truly glad her mother was going to be here in England part of the year, and she would do her best to help her be happy, make Marietta part of their lives, give her the daughter’s love she had been cheated of so long ago.

  And she would try not to be angry with her father for too long, even though she was at this moment.

  24

  Linnet sat staring at the latest sales sheets, for a moment thinking she had misread them. But as she scanned them a second time, she saw that the figures were as bad as she thought. Every department on the three Fashion Floors which were under her aegis had done badly.

  It’s not possible, she muttered. She realized with a sinking feeling that sales for last week had been very poor, if not disastrous.

  Leaning back in her chair, she frowned, wondering why her mother had not mentioned these figures to her. Paula got the sales sheets several days ahead of Linnet; but then perhaps her mother hadn’t had a chance to study them either. She herself had been busy preparing all those memos for Paula, and Paula appeared to have been overly preoccupied with that loose cannon Jonathan Ainsley.

  It seemed to Linnet that her mother was speaking to Sarah in Paris almost every day, and to what purpose? she wondered. All Paula heard from Sarah was that Jonathan was obviously besotted by Angharad, and vice versa.

  It pleased Linnet that these two schemers were caught up with each other, entwined figuratively and physically. Thus enraptured, they would leave the rest of the family alone, she believed. And hoped. At least for the moment.

  Gideon tended to agree with her. They had met for a drink the day after she’d had lunch with Evan and Marietta, and Gideon had confided his feelings to her. Because they had grown up together and were best friends, there were no holds barred, and he had poured out his genuine fears. “She’s evil,” he had said. “I saw the wickedness in Angharad the afternoon I met her at the hospital, after Evan had that fall. I still blame that woman for Evan’s accident. I think she got Evan very upset. We have to wait and see what happens next.” He had smiled knowingly, added, “I do believe Ainsley has met his match. I think Angharad Hughes is a real piece of work. She’ll lead him a merry dance.”

  Linnet sighed, then looked down at the figures once more. They loomed up. Damnation, she muttered. Things were much worse than she had realized regarding Fashion sales.

  Her memos to Paula, which she’d worked on for days, were about bringing the London store into the twenty-first century, and these figures now told her how important this was. Actually, it was vital.

  Every aspect of the store needed overhauling. All the windows required a new look, the displays on the various floors had to be glamorized, and in general merchandise had to measure up to the new age they were living in. She had understood this for a long time, if the truth be known, but visiting Harte’
s in New York, and other department stores in that city, had brought it home with a vengeance.

  She believed Harte’s in London was beginning to lose its cachet. Oh, it was still elegant, a landmark actually, and world famous, but to her way of thinking it had become a trifle staid, especially for the current generation of shoppers.

  Linnet was smart enough to know that the latest sales figures for her Fashion Floors didn’t spell disaster for Harte’s, but at the same time she understood that they were indicative of a trend. If something really drastic wasn’t done, the retailing company might, within the coming year, be on a downward slide. She knew Harte’s wasn’t losing money. At least not yet, she muttered. But she also was aware that this could happen if innovative ideas were not put to work.

  Jumping up, she went over to her worktable, picked up the Financial Times, which she had dropped there when she had come in that morning. Rustling through its pink pages, she finally came to the stock prices, scanned the pages until she found Harte’s. Nodding, she let out a small sigh of relief. The shares were stable, even up a little.

  Although she was reassured, Linnet knew she had to pursue her plan no matter what. She suddenly felt more determined than ever to force through her ideas, most if not all of them. Somehow she had to find the means to convince her mother that they could not remain sitting here in what Linnet called “the doldrums.” Her mother lived in the past, caught up with the regime of Emma Harte and Grandy’s memory.

  Seating herself at the desk, she picked up the phone and dialed India, who was working at the Leeds store this week.

  India answered her private line immediately. “India Standish here.”

  “It’s Linnet, India. How are you? How’s Dusty? Oh, and little Atlanta?”

  “They’re both great, thanks. But how’re you? You sound tense, Linny,” India replied in her soft way, the hint of a brogue behind the lilting voice.

  “I am a bit anxious. Listen, I just got around to looking at this past week’s sales figures for the Fashion Floors, and they’re awful. Actually, India, they’re appalling. I don’t mind telling you, I’m alarmed.”