by Helen Brooks
CHAPTER FIVE
THE next few minutes were a confused jumble of larger than life images and noise which gradually sorted themselves into order as they stood in the baronial splendour of the vast hall. The seeming crowd of people that had surrounded them as they had stepped out of Alex’s car had shrunk into four elderly servants plus two huge German shepherd dogs which were clearly delighted to see Alex and ignored her with magnificent disregard.
‘This is Mary.’ Alex hugged the small plump grey-haired woman whose plain face was wreathed in a beaming smile of welcome. ‘Best housekeeper in the world, eh, Mary?’ The little woman giggled and pushed at him with the flat of her hand.
‘Oh, you, Mr Alex, always the flatterer!’
‘And this is Jenny, who cooks for us, and Christine, my grandmother’s companion.’ The two elderly women bobbed their heads smilingly. ‘And to keep this house of females in order I rely on the very capable services of John.’ He shook the ageing butler’s hand as he spoke. ‘How is she, John?’
‘Looking forward to seeing you, sir.’ John was obviously of the old school, Fabia reflected silently as the tall elderly man bowed his head to her solemnly, his face carefully polite. Somehow he seemed the odd one out in this atmosphere of easy informality where even the dogs seemed part of one huge family.
She had a moment’s vivid recollection of Robin’s coldness with what he termed ‘inferiors’, which had frequently bordered on rudeness. It had been one of the many things which she had pushed to the back of her mind at the time, dazzled and bewitched as she had been, but which had made perfect sense after the event.
‘We’d better go straight in or else she’ll be complaining we’ve kept her waiting,’ Alex said smilingly to John, who nodded approvingly, a slight smile touching the severe line of his thin mouth.
‘Very wise, sir.’
‘Hey, behave, you two.’ He stopped after two steps, his hand holding Fabia’s arm, and turned to the two dogs, who had slunk behind them ingratiatingly. ‘You know you aren’t allowed in the drawing-room. Take them into my sitting-room, John—I’ll be along in a few minutes.’
‘Very good, sir.’ When John, the dogs and the three women had disappeared, making the huge hall even larger, he turned to her, his eyes warm, his arms slipping casually round her waist.
‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ he asked softly, his gaze drifting to her mouth and then back to her wide-eyed stare as she struggled to take in the opulence of her surroundings.
‘No, they seem very nice,’ she said weakly.
‘Salt of the earth,’ he agreed immediately. ‘They’ve all been with my grandmother for years, John since she came to the house as a young and very nervous bride some sixty-five years ago, although he was just a kitchen boy then. He’s absolutely devoted to her although she plagues him unmercifully.’
‘Is that all the household?’ she asked as he walked with her along the hall, pausing in front of a pair of beautifully carved oak doors with curving, ornate brass handles.
‘No.’ He looked down at her slowly. ‘With a house this size it takes some upkeep, so there are a couple of women who come in from the village a few times a week to clean and then two gardeners who double as chauffeurs when necessary. They don’t live in.’
‘Oh.’ Her voice was flat.
‘You knew my financial situation, Fabia,’ he said softly, lifting her chin so her gaze was forced to meet his. ‘What did you expect?’ His eyes raked her troubled face intently.
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head distractedly. ‘It’s just so... I don’t know if I can be what you want me to be for your grandmother.’ Blue eyes met gold defiantly.
‘I want you to be yourself,’ he said firmly, his eyes hooded. ‘And don’t forget this is an estate that has been in the Cade family for generations; we have no choice in the matter. I would prefer to just have my house in London and the couple of properties abroad, but there it is...’ His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘My ancestors would haunt me if I let it go.’
‘You?’ She paused uncertainly. ‘But I thought it was your grandmother’s home?’
‘So it is.’ He nodded confirmation. ‘But with death duties and other annoying liabilities my grandmother made the estate over to me lock, stock and barrel when I was twenty-one. She didn’t expect to live so long.’ He smiled at her face. ‘Should I have refused it then?’
‘No, of course not.’ She lowered her eyes quickly. ‘And I didn’t mean to pry, this is none of my business.’ She raised her head as a sudden thought struck her. ‘She must have trusted you very much, to give you everything like that.’
‘We love each other,’ he said simply, his eyes fixed piercingly on her confused face as he opened the doors quietly. ‘There’s perfect trust where the heart is involved.’
‘And about time!’ The voice that greeted them was strong and loud, a total antithesis to the tiny, shrivelled-up little figure seated in the massive armchair at the far end of the room almost on top of a huge blazing fire. ‘Where have you been? Gossiping with John about me, no doubt? Don’t you believe a thing that fool of a doctor has told him, Alexander! I’ve no intention of dying yet.’
‘I’ve brought someone to meet you, Grandmama,’ Alex said stolidly, patently ignoring the whole content of the tiny woman’s words as he urged Fabia forward, his arm holding her close to his side.
‘I can see that.’ Isabella Cade glared at her grandson from the depths of the armchair. ‘I might be old and disagreeable, Alexander, but I am not senile! Come here, my dear.’
The change in both voice and appearance as the old woman smiled beguilingly at her caught Fabia by surprise and she blinked nervously, glad of the support of Alex’s arm as they walked down the beautifully furnished, opulent room, her feet sinking into the thick cream carpet which was ankle-deep.
‘This is Miss Fabia Grant, Grandmama; she has agreed to spend Christmas with us.’ Alex’s voice was almost without expression as they stopped in front of the small figure, his face calm and smiling, but Fabia had eyes for no one but the diminutive little woman staring back at her so interestedly, bright black button eyes and thick white hair belying her great age. She looked like an old, and very mischievous, little gnome.
‘Miss Fabia Grant.’ The strong, slightly aristocratic voice repeated her name slowly. ‘And do you work for your living, Miss Grant?’ The lined, paper-thin face stared up at her.
Fabia blinked again in surprise, the formal introductory small talk she had rehearsed in her mind dying in the path of such directness. ‘Yes, I do, Mrs Cade,’ she said clearly and firmly. ‘I am an advertising executive in a large firm.’
‘Is that a real job or just one Daddy has purchased for you?’ The piercing black eyes were holding her soft violet ones tight now, and as Fabia felt Alex tense by her side and open his mouth to speak she intervened quickly, her voice staunch and unflinching. Grandmother or not, she would deal with this herself!
‘It’s a real job, Mrs Cade, worked for by myself for myself with no help from anyone else at all.’ She held the tiny woman’s glance unwaveringly. ‘That’s the way I like it.’
‘Looking the way you do?’ The tone was faintly disbelieving. ‘I can’t believe there haven’t been many men who would have liked to smooth your path.’ The beady eyes flickered over her face.
‘I wouldn’t deny it.’ Fabia was pale-faced and unsmiling now. ‘Unfortunately, even in today’s liberated society, there are still some men who are egotistical enough to consider a woman as a body with cotton wool for a brain, and, more unfortunately, still some women who agree with that opinion.’ She held the hard eyes fast. ‘You know the sort of woman I mean, Mrs Cade?’ It was a blunt criticism and the ancient face knew it.
Young and old stared into each other’s minds for a long searching moment and then Isabella Cade sank back into her cushions tiredly, patting the arm of her chair with a tiny wrinkled frail hand. ‘I like you, Fabia. I can call you Fabia, can’t I?’ Fabia nodded dum
bly, dazed by the mercurial change of mood. ‘I was worried when you walked in that door that you would be a flopsy with no mind of her own or a poor little rich girl becrying Daddy’s millions. But you are neither of those things, are you, Miss Fabia Grant?’ The old lady smiled wickedly at her grandson who was shaking his head slightly. ‘And stop glaring at me, Alexander. I’m too long in the tooth to change and you should allow an old woman her indulgences.’
‘Age has nothing to do with it, Grandmama, as you well know,’ Alex said severely with just the trace of a smile to soften his words. ‘You’ve always been the same; your age has just grown into your tongue now and is a convenient excuse.’
‘Very convenient.’ She smiled roguishly, turning back to Fabia now and looking up at her enquiringly. ‘Do you like my grandson, Fabia?’ The meaning was painfully clear and now Alex stepped in firmly, his tone abrupt and his face losing the indulgent expression it had hitherto held.
‘Enough, Isabella!’
‘He only calls me that when I’ve overstepped the mark,’ the bright voice explained to Fabia comfortably, ‘although I don’t see why in this case. Still, no matter.’ The scrawny hands pulled the knitted shawl covering her legs more closely round her. ‘Do you find it chilly, Fabia?’
The heat from the fire was enough to roast one alive, Fabia thought faintly. Already she could feel her cheeks glowing scarlet and small beads of moisture dampening her upper lip. ‘It’s icy outside,’ she said quickly, parrying the question adroitly with a nod to the curtained windows.
‘Tactful too.’ The wafer-thin hand lifted slowly to pat her tentatively on her arm. ‘I didn’t feel the cold at your age either, but this miserable collection of bones lets me down now.’ The deep-socketed eyes closed slowly. ‘I’m feeling a little tired, children. Run away and play until dinner.’
As Alex signalled to Fabia to rise he bent and kissed the top of the white head gently, his eyes tender. ‘Till dinner, then, you wicked old lady.’
‘You wouldn’t have me any different,’ his grandmother returned immediately, still with her eyes shut.
‘Is she always like that?’ Fabia asked weakly as they entered Alex’s private sitting-room at the back of the house a few minutes later.
‘Always.’ He gestured for her to be seated in one of the big winged armchairs pulled close to the crackling log fire in front of which both dogs had been stretched comfortably until their arrival when they had leapt up to greet Alex, long furry tails wagging and tongues lolling ridiculously.
‘These are Major and Minor, by the way, father and son.’ He stroked the long fur for a few seconds before snapping his fingers, at which signal both dogs slunk back to their original position. ‘They’re supposed to be guard dogs, bought to swell the effectiveness of the security system, but are both as soft as butter. Everyone blames me.’ He smiled at her, his white teeth flashing in his tanned face and the gold eyes creasing at the corners. She caught her breath suddenly as she stared into his face. Why couldn’t he have been ordinary, an everyday man working hard for his daily bread and butter? Why did he have to be so far out of her reach? Her eyes widened at the path her thoughts were following and she slammed a door shut in her mind with ferocious determination.
‘Just hearing them bark would be enough for the average burglar,’ she said lightly, reaching down to pat one noble head. ‘And seeing them would do the trick; they’re quite magnificent.’
‘Long-haired German shepherds are beautiful dogs,’ he agreed softly without taking his eyes off her flushed face. She had the feeling that although they were talking quite normally something had sprung up between them that was curiously intimate in its intensity. ‘She liked you, you know—you made quite a hit.’ She stared at him as he took a step nearer. ‘But I knew she would. The first time I saw you—’
She laughed nervously, trying to dispel the mood. ‘The first moment you saw me? I seem to remember you avoided me after that first moment all evening.’
‘I should have trusted my initial instincts,’ he said slowly as he reached her side and drew her up by her hand until she was standing within the circle of his arms. ‘They’ve never let me down yet.’ The moment to resist was there but she let it slip away.
This time his embrace was hard and fierce, and as his head lowered to take her lips she knew a moment’s breathtaking panic before the feel of his mouth drove all lucid thought from her mind. He’s done this so many times before, he’s too good at it! The thought hammered in her mind but in spite of his expertise she couldn’t help responding feverishly as he pulled her into his body, moulding her to the hard firm planes of his male frame, leaving her in no doubt as to the desire she had raised in him. His mouth was ravaging hers in an agony of need now and that tiny part of her she had kept locked away since Robin’s cruelty had broken the key suddenly unlocked in a sweet response that had her straining against him, giving back kiss for kiss, moaning softly as his lips searched every contour of her hot face, wanting more as his hands travelled over her body in gentle exploration, his flesh warm against hers.
‘You are so beautiful, my darling...’ As he murmured quiet words of endearment against her lips she found herself wanting to believe him, wanting to trust him. She was so tired of being alone, of fighting her natural yearning for someone to share things with, someone to belong to... Her breath was coming in sobbing pants now and she wound her arms tightly round his neck, revelling in the smell, the feel, the completeness of him. It would be all right. She needed it to be all right. He wasn’t Robin, he wasn’t at all like Robin. And she wanted to trust him.
‘Mr Alexander?’ The polite knock at the door took them both by surprise and as Alex moved her from him she knew a moment’s deep, blindingly strong protest inside her. ‘I have your tea-trolley, sir.’
‘Just a moment, John.’ As Alex raked back his hair with hard fingers and smoothed his tie into place she wondered at his composure. He was so cool, so unruffled, whereas she felt as if... Her cheeks burnt still hotter. She felt as if he had already made love to her. She sat down abruptly in the chair she had vacated, adjusting her clothing with shaking hands before bending quickly to stroke Major’s coarse, springy fur as Alex opened the door. She didn’t know herself any more. How could he sweep away seven years of hard-won cool remoteness in half as many weeks? This was madness, but oh, so sweet.
As John served them tea her cheeks cooled and the trembling deep inside that his passion had induced quiet-ened. As the old man left, the little housekeeper came bustling in with a pot of water to replenish the teapot, loading their plates with still further sandwiches and cake, and standing to chat while they ate. She sensed that Alex wanted to tell the small woman to leave but his innate courtesy won through and he talked amiably with Mary, who was clearly delighted to have ‘Mr Alex’ home, her round cheeks bobbing animatedly and her brown eyes soft with pleasure.
‘I’ll show you your room. I’m sure you would like to have a rest before dinner.’ As Mary wheeled the tea-trolley from the room he took her arm, leading her to another huge winding staircase at the back of the house.
‘I’ll get lost here.’ The moment of closeness had passed and she needed time now to formulate this new thing that was happening, take in the enormity of what she was feeling. ‘I’ve never been in such a huge place.’ She shrugged his arm away carefully.
‘It is vast,’ he agreed lightly with a discerning glance at her pale face, ‘but your rooms are close to the main staircase so you can’t go far wrong. I’ll show you around properly later.’ He didn’t press her to acknowledge their earlier intimacy and for that she was grateful as he led her along several thickly carpeted corridors hung with beautifully framed pictures and dotted with small upholstered easy-chairs in tiny alcoves. ‘We’ve come the long way,’ he said as he drew to a halt outside a door identical to the others they had passed. ‘The main stairs are just down there but if you get lost, shout.’
‘I doubt if anyone would hear me,’ she said quietly as he op
ened the door to reveal what looked like a suite of rooms, the small sitting-room they stepped into regal in white and gold.
‘Oh, I’d hear you, Fabia,’ he said softly, his voice husky and low. ‘You could go to the ends of the earth and I’d still hear you if you called for me.’ He moved to take her in his arms but she backed away suddenly, the tenderness and desire in his eyes causing an alarm she couldn’t hide.
‘I’m rushing you.’ He stopped immediately and turned from her, his voice controlled now with its customary coolness. ‘I didn’t mean to; I planned...’ He stopped and straightened his shoulders before turning to her, his face distant now and very cold. ‘I’ll see you later at dinner, eight o’clock.’
When the door shut behind him and she was really alone she suddenly felt as though her legs couldn’t hold her any more. She sank on to a small, heavily embroidered chair in soft gold as she glanced round the room distractedly. It was beautiful, like everything else here. She shut her eyes for an instant and breathed deeply. ‘This is crazy, you know it’s crazy,’ she said out loud, the sound of her voice bringing her eyes open with a quick snap. ‘Look around you, girl, just open your eyes and look. What could he possibly want with you, apart from a quick fling for convenience’s sake?’ She shut her eyes again as the thoughts hammered relentlessly in her mind. But he was different, she felt he was different... She sat for a long time in the quietness of the graceful room, the soft warming glow from the wall-lights reflecting back the gold of the heavy brocade curtains, which had been pulled to banish the cold world outside. She had never felt so confused in her life.
After a time she wandered into the large and very ornate bathroom, deciding to have a bath and luxuriate in the sumptuous surroundings rather than a quick shower. Half an hour later, with her wet hair swathed in a small hand-towel and her body enfolded in a warm fluffy bath-sheet, she padded through again to the sitting-room and through to the bedroom beyond, opening the large walk-in wardrobe and wondering what to wear as she gazed at her entire stock of clothes which seemed lost in the vastness.
