Thank God for small mercies, thought Kate.
Charles eyed her solemnly. ‘Anything else I can do? All this trouble couldn’t have come at a worse time. Selling out or going public are our only options, and if the opposition get to hear of any in-fighting, they’ll begin to circle like rooks on a dead dingo.’
‘The family have been at each other’s throats for years. I doubt the press will think it newsworthy. Jacaranda Vines has a reputation that will stand up just fine when it comes to the crunch.’ She took another drink of water. ‘Who has Mum’s power of attorney, Charles?’
‘Dad. He and Aunt Cordelia arranged it several years ago so that if something happened to her, the business could still run smoothly and the overall power of their share of the corporation would remain in his hands.’
Kate let out a long breath of relief. ‘Thank God for that.’ Then she had another thought. ‘What if something happens to your father?’
Charles raised one bushy eyebrow. ‘I have power of attorney over his business affairs, and I can assure you, Kate, they’re in safe hands. If he should die, my brother and I will each have fifty percent of Dad’s share.’
Kate noticed how he managed to avoid calling Philip by his name. ‘Does he know how it’s divided up?’
Charles shrugged. ‘I haven’t told him and I doubt if Dad ever has.’ He paused for a moment, deep in thought. ‘You don’t really think that sister of yours can throw a spanner in the works, do you?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her. But if the rest of us stick together on this, she won’t get far.’
*
The water in the pool at the next campsite was icy despite the heat of the sun, and had become a graveyard for flies, cockroaches and ants. Sophie had swum warily from end to end, but had had to give up when a particularly large fly almost went up her nose. Towelling herself dry, she closed the child lock to the gate and wandered back to the camper.
They had parked beneath a tree which offered some shade from the sun, but which was close to the shower block and toilets. Children played football in the dust, barbecues were being lit, and stubbies dug out of vast eskies to oil the throats of the men sitting around listening to the cricket on the radio. The Test was almost over, and England as usual was about to be defeated. This site was basic after the luxury of the last few days but the atmosphere was friendly, and Sophie smiled and said ‘G’day,’ in reply to shouted greetings as she headed back to the camper.
Her grandmother was sitting beneath the awning, the electric fan Sophie had plugged into the camper’s supply purring on the table beside her as she gazed out over the limpid water of the lake. ‘Good swim?’
Sophie grimaced. ‘Don’t ask,’ she muttered. ‘I need a shower to get the creepy crawlies off me.’
‘That’s the trouble with outdoor pools,’ Cordelia said wisely, despite the fact she’d never had one and had probably never swum in one.
Sophie showered and changed into a T-shirt and shorts. Then she poured herself a stubby and her grandmother a brandy and soda.
They sat in companionable silence and stared over the lake. It wasn’t very attractive, and the bird-life appeared to be almost non-existent. The red earth was heaped in dusty mounds round the edge, the grass spindly and pale, and there was scum floating on the surface.
‘Not the best view in the world,’ muttered Sophie as she slapped at a mosquito. ‘We should have looked around for another site before booking in here. The mozzies are bad enough now. They’re going to be a nightmare once the sun goes down.’
Cordelia handed her the repellent and Sophie liberally sprayed them both. ‘Right, Gran,’ she said brightly. ‘You’ve got a drink, you’ve been sprayed, and it’s fairly cool under this awning. Perhaps you’d better carry on with the story before that brandy kicks in and you doze off.’
Cordelia eyed her mischievously. ‘Are you suggesting I can’t hold my drink?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what the youth of today is coming to when an old lady like me is shown such little respect.’
Sophie laughed. ‘Fair go, Gran. I just want the rest of the story.’
Cordelia smiled, and her gaze grew distant as she once again returned to that small village in Sussex. ‘Then perhaps we should now return to Milton Manor and Squire Ade and his wife Amelia. For their daughter Isobel and Captain Gilbert Fairbrother play an important part in the founding of Jacaranda Vines.’
*
Captain Gilbert Fairbrother of the 7th Hussars was bored. He’d agreed to accompany his parents to this ghastly parochial back-water of Sussex only because Papa had paid off his tailor’s bill and settled his outstanding account at the Beargarden. Otherwise he’d have spent his time in town visiting his favourite haunts – and his mistress.
An officer’s life was a good one, and as long as his mother supplemented the half pay the peacetime Army dished out to men who lived in town, he could see no reason to remain in barracks. Father of course didn’t approve, but as a matter of pride he’d stumped up the necessary amount for his son’s commission and would do so again if he wanted Gilbert to rise higher and avoid scandal.
He yawned as he made his escape from the dining room and headed upstairs. He’d forced himself to endure the mindless prattle of his hostess, the boorishness of his host, and the fawning stupidity of Squire Ade’s two daughters, but as neither of them promised a good tumble, he could no longer hide his impatience and had given up flirting with Isobel. It was definitely time to return to London and the pleasures of more sophisticated society.
Isobel and Charlotte Ade were passing presentable – if a little countryfied – but despite Mama’s rather obvious attempts to matchmake, he’d managed to avoid being left alone with either of them. The little maid Rose was another matter, though. She was a fiery piece, as he’d learned to his cost when he’d cornered her the other day. The bruises on his shins were evidence of that, but if he ever managed to get hold of her alone then this entire sojourn in the country might not be such a bore after all.
A soft tap at the door interrupted his thoughts, and before he could answer his mother swept into the room.
‘We need to talk, Gilbert.’
Clara fingered the halo of curls at her forehead. Gilbert thought how ridiculous they looked on a woman of Mama’s age, but as usual she seemed to have forgotten she was well past her best.
‘You really should be more careful, Gilbert,’ she began. ‘Your reputation for plundering the servants’ halls is well known, but I do wish you’d contain yourself when we visit friends. Rose is far too young, and a scandal at the moment will put paid to all my plans …’
‘What is it you want, Mama?’ he said, his tone resigned.
She stood up and eyed her own reflection in the pier glass. ‘I have managed to persuade that silly woman Amelia to agree to your formally courting Isobel.’ She held up one hand to silence him as they eyed one another in the mirror. ‘I will not accept any argument from you, Gilbert. It is time you were married,’ she finished firmly.
‘But she’s impossible,’ he spluttered. ‘Really, Mama, this is beyond a joke.’
She turned to face him. ‘What is beyond a joke is a son of almost thirty who still looks to his father to pay his debts. What is beyond a joke is your continually trying to seduce housemaids and carrying on liaisons with married women. Isobel’s father will pay a handsome dowry for his rather insipid daughter now there’s a chance of capturing young James Winterbottom for Charlotte.’
She came closer and he could smell the overpowering scent she favoured.
‘Isobel has no brothers, and her grandfather on her mother’s side has no heir. He’s immensely rich and it is said he’s loath to leave his money to Amelia or that country clod of a husband of hers. Isobel is his favourite.’
She paused just long enough for Gilbert to take in what she was saying. His mother never failed to astonish him. How the devil did she come by her information? And what kind of tortured mind could play such terrible games w
hen she knew how abhorrent a match with Isobel Ade would be to him?
‘Who do you think would stand best chance of all that money and land?’ She laughed. It wasn’t the girlish trill she usually favoured but a deep, almost sensual chuckle. ‘Why, his favourite grand-daughter’s husband, of course.’
Gilbert sank on to the window seat. ‘There’s no guarantee, Mama. You may think you have all the answers, but how do you know he’ll leave everything to Isobel? She has a sister.’
Clara came to stand beside him. ‘I know a great many things, Gilbert,’ she said softly. ‘But it wouldn’t be wise to tell you all my secrets.’ She stroked the fair hair from his eyes. ‘Charlotte will marry her suitor and become Lady Winterbottom with a vast fortune and a goodly slice of Berkshire. I doubt her grandfather would see the need to give her more.’
He looked at her, saw the glint of mischief in her eyes and knew immediately she had something on Amelia Ade’s father. ‘But I don’t care for Isobel. She’s dull and drab and far too bookish for my liking. She’s more fit for a farmer’s wife than an officer of the 7th Hussars.’
Her claw-like fingers grasped his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. ‘I’m not asking you to like her, Gilbert, but marry her you will. Your papa can no longer afford to keep you in the manner to which you’ve been accustomed.’ Your brother Henry is to inherit, and I will not have his legacy frittered away by your extravagance.’
He was about to protest when he saw the resolute expression in his mother’s eyes and knew he was beaten.
It was as if she sensed his capitulation, for she kissed his cheek and held him close for a moment. ‘You won’t regret it, Gilbert,’ she said softly. ‘After all, you will be master of your own home, Rose is Isobel’s maid and therefore will be at hand should your appetite require more meat than milksop – and who will think twice if you should take a mistress? It’s quite the thing for married men you know.’
*
Isobel stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered why a handsome fellow like Captain Fairbrother should find her attractive. The brown hair was mousy, the nose too long, the mild grey eyes not wide enough in that round, rather plain face. Her lack of beauty was something she’d accepted as a child, and her dismal seasons two years ago had merely confirmed it. Yet Mama had said he’d asked permission to court her, and although they had barely spoken, she had been flattered and pleased when he’d paid attention to her as they walked the estate, or flirted mildly over a game of cards in the evenings.
‘I was born to be a spinster,’ she said. ‘So why should someone like Gilbert want to court me?’ She and her sister were in their room, choosing clothes they would take to London.
Charlotte twirled in front of the glass, her silken skirts rustling busily as she primped and preened. ‘Nonsense,’ she said sharply. ‘Why shouldn’t you have a chance of happiness? Really, Izzy, you are such a mouse at times.’ She wet a finger and smoothed it over her eyebrows, then pinched her cheeks to bring colour to them. With her head tilted, she eyed the effect in the mirror critically, found it to her liking and smiled.
Isobel eyed her thoughtfully. There was only a year between them, but the difference was startling. She loved her sister but sometimes wondered if Charlotte realised how much it cost her to put on a brave face, to suffer the agonies of shyness and the terrible effort of trying to appear frivolous in company when all she felt was terror. For Charlotte was naturally sunny with a strong personality, and although she wasn’t a conventional beauty, her demeanour was such that no one seemed to notice or care.
Isobel returned to the subject of Gilbert. ‘His interest does not necessarily mean my status as a spinster will change,’ she said wistfully.
Charlotte flounced her petticoats and sat down with a thump on the stool beside her. ‘Then you must do more to attract him, Izzy,’ she said with exasperation. ‘All those long silences between you are hardly encouraging, and look at your dress. It’s so plain.’
‘Lace and frills don’t suit me, Charlotte,’ she said as she smoothed the lines of her grey silk dress. ‘And when Gilbert and I are together, I can never think of anything to say that might amuse such a worldly man.’
‘Do you care for him, Izzy?’ Charlotte’s wide blue eyes were serious for once.
Isobel could feel a blush spread across her face and looked down at her hands. ‘He’s very handsome, and I’m flattered he shows interest in me – but care for him?’ She paused, her thoughts confused. ‘I don’t know him well enough to decide one way or another,’ she said firmly.
Charlotte picked up a bottle of perfume and pulled out the glass stopper. ‘Mama says he’s quite a catch,’ she said slowly. ‘His family is very well connected, you know. You’ll have entrée to some of the most sought-after social events if you marry him.’
Isobel was in an agony of indecision. She wanted to please Mama, knew how important this match would be, but she had serious doubts regarding Gilbert’s feelings. ‘You don’t think he’s a little … conceited?’ she asked hesitantly.
Charlotte laughed. ‘What man isn’t? Especially one so handsome. He does cut a dash in that uniform.’
‘But I wouldn’t be marrying a uniform,’ Isobel protested. She turned to her sister and took her hands. ‘Charlotte, what if he’s only after my dowry?’ There, she thought. She’d voiced her one true fear.
Charlotte was still, her eyes steady on Isobel’s face. ‘Of course he isn’t,’ she said calmly. ‘Gilbert comes from a wealthy family, and your dowry isn’t much bigger than mine.’
Isobel wasn’t convinced. ‘I think Mama and Lady Clara have put their heads together, and he sees me as a convenient way to acquire land and capital. After all, he’s the younger son. He will not inherit his father’s title or estates.’
‘Nonsense,’ replied Charlotte firmly. ‘He’s positively smitten, Izzy. Why, he never left your side last night or this morning.’ You should be grateful someone wants you after your dismal season in London,’ she added impatiently.
Isobel gave a wry grimace. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘The Captain is very aware of protocol. His manners are faultless. But does he care for me?’
‘Of course he does, you silly goose. For heaven’s sake, Isobel, stop dithering. It can get awfully wearing, you know.’ Charlotte flounced from the room, the heavy door thudding shut behind her.
Isobel stared into the mirror. Grateful. That was a terrible word to use to a sister, she thought. Grateful to be bartered off to a man she hardly knew just so Charlotte could marry James Winterbottom. Grateful that someone wants me – even if it is only for my dowry. If only I didn’t care so much for him. If only his presence didn’t make my heart flutter so madly I find it difficult to speak. How hard it was to be shy and awkward when one was so plain.
5
‘Good-bye, Mam,’ Rose called after the cart.
There was no reply from Kathleen, not even an acknowledgement she’d heard as she left for her new life in Jevington with her two sons.
Rose picked up the small bundle that represented all she owned, and with a heavy heart, set out for Milton Manor.
As her grandmother’s voice faded into silence, the first hot tear rolled down Sophie’s cheek. ‘Poor little girl,’ she breathed as a wave of misery swept over her and memories of her own childhood flooded back. ‘What a terrible thing to do to a child.’
Cordelia’s hand rested lightly on her arm. It was if she could see the parallels between Sophie and Rose’s lives. ‘At least you had me,’ she murmured. ‘Poor Rose had no one.’
Sophie eyed her through the tears. ‘And I love you for that, Gran. But there’s still a part of me that wants Mum to notice me,’ she sniffed.
Cordelia stroked her arm. ‘I can understand that. After all, a mother’s love is supposed to be the strongest. But sometimes, even in the animal world, a mother will reject her off-spring. It’s through no fault of yours, Sophie – just as Rose wasn’t to blame for her mother’s coldness.’
<
br /> ‘Rose wanted Kathleen to love her, needed her to see she was a good and loving daughter. Why? Why do we feel like this when there’s no hope?’
‘Hope is all you both had, darling,’ Cordelia said softly. ‘It was the only weapon you could use, for if that failed you, the bleak truth would have been unbearable.’
Sophie smeared away the tears and blew her nose. It had been a long time since she’d cried. Years since she’d been made to face the unpalatable truth. ‘You’re right. Mum will never regard me as more than a nuisance, a mistake.’
Cordelia brushed the long black hair from Sophie’s face and tucked it behind her ears. ‘I understand how painful all this must have been for you,’ she sighed. ‘But you have to try and understand the way things were with Mary thirty years ago.’
Sophie had heard it all before, but she listened anyway. Perhaps, now she was older, she could understand.
‘She married in haste and they were both far too young. Their marriage was already on the rocks when she found she was pregnant. She was very much in love with your father, you know, and wanted to use you to keep him. He went anyway. She kept up the hope he’d come back once you were born, but it wasn’t to be. From that moment on she lost all interest in you and I took over.’
Sophie found the pain was less than she’d expected. For there was a part of her which sympathised with Mary. But she found it difficult to understand how any mother could reject her baby so thoroughly.
It was as if Cordelia could read her mind. ‘Mary should never have had a child. She’s too selfish to share any part of herself. It’s why her marriages didn’t work. Why she’s always searching for the unattainable. There are times when I feel sorry for her. Times when I wish she could see the damage she causes not only to herself but to those around her.’
There was still a hard knot in her throat, and Sophie had to swallow before she could speak. ‘I just wonder how a person can go through life completely unaware of others. Was she always so self-centred? Always so angry at the world?’
Jacaranda Vines Page 8
