‘Your father’s downstairs. He wants to see you, Harriet. Are you up for that?’
Harriet blinked owlishly. ‘I need a few minutes to tidy myself up.’
When Harriet was back in the bed Margaret had remade Aubrey tapped on the door, but stayed in the open doorway.
‘How are you, Harriet?’
‘My head has settled down a bit, but a migraine always leaves me feeling feeble for a bit.’
‘You’ve obviously been overdoing things. You need a holiday.’
She frowned as the doorbell rang. ‘Is Margaret down there?’
‘No. She’s out shopping. I’ll see who it is.’
He came back a moment later with a vast basket of flowers. ‘I’ve brought them up to show you, but then I’ll take them downstairs in case they affect your head.’
Harriet stared at the extravagant display, her lips twitching as she read the message on the card.
Coals to Newcastle again. Get well soon. J.
‘They’re from James,’ she informed her father.
His jaw clenched. ‘I see. I’ll take them down and leave you in peace, then. Margaret won’t be long. Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks.’ She smiled a little. ‘I’m drowsy again. It’s all those pills.’
‘By the way, I called in at the garage. The car’s ready, and someone’s driving it up here this afternoon.’
Next day Harriet had showered, dressed and graduated to the sofa downstairs to listen to an audio book, but was soon feeling so bored with her inactivity she was delighted when Moira Graveney arrived.
‘If you don’t feel up to it I can go away again, Harriet.’
‘I’d love you to stay,’ Harriet assured her.
Moira sat on the end of the sofa, eyeing Harriet closely. ‘Are you better? Really? You don’t look very marvellous.’
‘Migraines tend to do that for me, but I’ll be fine by tomorrow.’
‘Has someone been taking care of you?’
‘Margaret Rogers, the wonder woman who looks after River House. I need to get back on top form because Julia’s bringing her crew down soon to do a photo shoot for her magazine,’ said Harriet, pulling a face.
Moira laughed. ‘Sounds like fun.’ She looked at the basket of flowers in the window embrasure. ‘Someone’s been extravagant. Mr Corbett?’
‘No. Your brother. Let’s have some coffee,’ said Harriet, getting up.
‘I can make it,’ said Moira promptly, but Harriet shook her head.
‘I need to get back to normal.’ She went off to the kitchen and came back with the drinks and a plate of almond biscuits. ‘Margaret made these, too.’
‘Tell her that if ever she wants to change jobs there’s one waiting for her at the Old Rectory—these are heavenly.’ Moira put her coffee down. ‘Now, let’s get to the reason for my visit. I did, of course, want to see how you are. But I also have a proposition to make.’
‘Sounds exciting!’
‘Marcus owns a cottage overlooking a tiny private beach in Pembrokeshire. You obviously need a break, so why not take time off and pop down there for a couple of days? It would do you good to just lie in the sun, if there is any, and eat dinner in the local pub. What do you say?’
Harriet eyed her, tempted. ‘It sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.’
‘Then don’t. I think you’d like it there. Take some food basics with you, but there’s a very good village store.’ Moira smiled. ‘And the cottage will be immaculate, because Mrs Pugh who cleans it for us believes that cleanliness is next to Godliness, and in that order. So what do you say?’ She took out a key and dangled it in front of Harriet’s eyes.
Why not do something impulsive for once? Harriet smiled warmly. ‘I say yes, Mrs Graveney. Thank you very much indeed.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I’ll go down tomorrow, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Absolutely fine. Let’s hope nothing crops up in your life to get in the way. How’s your little niece doing?’
‘Much improved once Gervase hired a paediatric nurse to take care of her. But the real boost to Annabel’s recovery was the news that the Spanish girl who normally looks after her is returning to the Barclay household soon. It was a boost for my sister, too. Sophie was sure she was coming down with the same virus, but when she heard about Pilar she made a miraculous recovery.’
‘James told me he met your sister at some lunch party, while you were looking after her daughter, and then drove you home afterwards because you looked so exhausted.’
‘It was very kind of him.’
‘He says your sister looks nothing at all like you.’
‘No. She’s the pretty one. Julia is the brilliant one, and I’m—’
‘The hardworking one everyone relies on from the way your father talked about you at the party,’ said Moira, and grinned. ‘Though that was a bit hard to swallow when you wowed us with your tango!’
Harriet grinned back. ‘I get a mad moment now and then like anyone else, so I’ll have one now and snatch that key from you to skive off to Wales.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
Harriet paused, thinking—as she did far too much—of the dream-like episode in her bedroom. Had she really kissed James or had she just wanted to? Either way, she didn’t fancy talking to him any time soon. ‘Would you do me a favour? Could you pass on my thanks to James for the flowers? Tell him they were much appreciated.’
After Moira left Harriet’s recovery was rapid at the prospect of a weekend away from River House which, much as she loved it, sometimes felt like a millstone weighing her down. Her mood was boosted even further when her father called in with a parcel containing a paperback crime novel and the DVD of a film she’d been looking forward to seeing. The note with it said:
I heard you were off sick, and thought the enclosed would appeal. Love, Nick.
‘How very nice of him,’ Harriet exclaimed.
‘I mentioned you were under the weather when I was in the bank today so he asked me to call back after lunch for this,’ said Aubrey. ‘You look better now. Mrs Graveney obviously cheered you up.’
Harriet told him about her proposed trip at the weekend, rather surprised to find her father strongly approved.
‘Splendid idea—do you the world of good. Let’s hope for good weather. You’ll need to be fit for Julia’s fashion shoot, so take a break while you can.’
‘Have you found somewhere to stay during the shoot?’
‘Oh, yes, no problem there,’ he assured her, but didn’t give details and Harriet didn’t ask for any.
Harriet was thoughtful after he’d gone. It had been a surprise to learn that her father thought of her with any approval at all, let alone as the most reliable of his three daughters. The mad moments she hadn’t told Moira about were few, but, unlike the tango, some had resulted in life-altering developments. The first had been her plan to leave home to live with James Crawford. When her father put a stop to that her eventual demand to take over the Lodge permanently had struck the final blow to détente between them. Yet lately, once he’d recovered from his anger over her deception about James and the party, Aubrey Wilde had been in a more conciliatory mood than usual, which made her suspicious. If he imagined she might return to live with him at River House he was sadly mistaken.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MOIRA GRAVENEY rang her brother that night, at a late enough hour to put him on the alert.
‘Something wrong, love?’ he asked.
‘Afraid so, but I don’t know exactly what, yet. Marcus had to rush off to London tonight to deal with a family crisis. He’ll ring me later, when he finds out what’s wrong.’
‘Claudia, as usual?’
‘No, it’s Lily for once. Marcus wasn’t given details; her mother just requested some immediate family support, and as this is pretty rare he took off right away.’
‘Try not to worry—and let me know when you have more news.’
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow. By the way, I d
rove round to see Harriet today.’
‘How is she?’
‘She’s better. Still a bit fragile, but the migraine had just about gone. She asked me to pass on a message of thanks for your flowers, by the way.’
James’s lips tightened. Couldn’t she have rung him herself?
‘Did you hear what I said?’ demanded Moira.
‘Harriet said thanks for the flowers,’ he repeated bleakly.
‘No, the next bit,’ she said impatiently. ‘I suggested she could do with a break and gave her the key to the cottage. She’s driving down there tomorrow for the weekend.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You do surprise me. If by some miracle Harriet took time off from her beloved work I thought she’d be back at her sister’s, looking after her niece.’
‘A paediatric nurse has been hired for that. Though, reading between the lines, it’s obvious that Harriet is the go-to girl for any emergency in the Wilde family.’
‘But she’s actually going to please herself for once. Amazing.’
‘Don’t be cynical, James. I don’t know what happened between you two in the past, but I like Harriet very much.’
You’re not the only one, thought James bitterly as he closed his phone. Though ‘like’ seemed hardly the right word. Whatever he had once felt for Harriet Wilde was still alive and well, even though she’d once broken his life in pieces by dumping him. And soon, he promised himself grimly, he would find out exactly what had made her do it.
Harriet was packed and ready the next day for her getaway when her father, rather to her surprise, came to load her bags into the car along with a box of supplies Margaret had put together. He hesitated as she got in the car, and then patted her hand. ‘Come back with some colour in your cheeks. Have you packed medication in case your headache comes back?’
Harriet assured him that she had, and drove off feeling like a child let out of school as she waved him goodbye.
The day was cool and cloudy for the majority of the journey, but after she left the motorway at Carmarthen the sun came out in such blinding glory she snapped her visor down and donned dark glasses. West Wales was giving her a warm welcome. After negotiating the steep market town of Haverfordwest, Harriet headed towards the sun and eventually turned down a narrow winding road which gave exciting glimpses of sea at every hairpin bend and brought her at last to a small foursquare house sitting on a ledge carved out of the cliff, with a steep path leading from it to the private cove below. She backed into the small parking area beside the house, then got out of the car, shading her eyes to look with pleasure at the panorama below. She unlocked the door in the small porch and after a quick survey of the small kitchen took everything from the car and virtuously put the food away before taking a trip down to the beach. At last she crammed a sunhat on her head, put the house key in her pocket and went exploring.
Harriet hurried down the steep path past tufts of grass and sea drift which brushed against her jeans as the siren song of breaking waves lured her down at speed to the crescent of pebbles edging the sand. Breathless after her headlong descent, she drew in a deep breath of pure delight at the sight of sunlight reflected on rippling waves. Her previous holidays by the sea had been very different from this secluded Welsh cove. When the Wilde girls were small, holidays had been spent in Torquay or Bournemouth, in the large comfortable hotels her parents had preferred. And after the trauma with James she’d done some determined partying with student friends in Ibiza.
After a while her rumbling stomach reminded her that she was hungry, and Harriet went back up to explore the rest of the house before making herself some lunch. Comfortable furniture and cheerful chintz suited the character of the solid old cottage, and the small guest room had an inviting brass bed and a deep window embrasure with a view of the beach.
Unpacking done, Harriet went down the steep stairs later looking forward to a meal for the first time in ages. She made a salad to eat with Margaret’s roast ham and enjoyed it at a small table in the sitting room window. With a concert on the radio for background and a view of the beach to look at, for the first time in what seemed forever Harriet began to feel relaxed. She left a message on her father’s phone to say she’d arrived, and then went down to the beach to take advantage of the sunshine. Later on, after she’d showered and dressed, she thought about going out for supper at the pub Moira had recommended, but by that time she was feeling the effects of her journey and opted for a lazy evening in front of the television.
Harriet slept better that night than she’d done in weeks. She woke early to the raucous cries of seagulls and ran to the window to check on the weather, delighted to find sunshine again. After breakfast she rang for news of Annabel and was told that she was improving rapidly, but Sophie couldn’t see why Harriet had driven all the way to West Wales for a break when she could have come back to Pennington. Harriet promised to do so soon, sent her love to Annabel, and then rang Moira.
‘I arrived safely, the sun is shining, and this is such a charming cottage, Moira. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here.’
‘You’re very welcome. Get out in that sunshine and enjoy yourself. It’s good to hear that someone’s happy.’
Was something wrong with James? ‘You sound a bit down, Moira.’
‘I am. Marcus had to take off to London to sort out a family problem and came back with a desperately unhappy Lily.’
‘Oh, poor Lily. I don’t want to pry, but do you know what’s wrong?’
‘She won’t say, exactly. Marcus is at his wit’s end, poor darling. He’s unmoved by Claudia’s dramas, but Lily’s tears are cutting him to pieces. As far as we can tell, it’s to do with Dominic, so we’ll just give her support and sympathy until she tells us what we can do to help. But that’s enough of my woes—I want you to enjoy your holiday.’
‘I will. I’ll ring you when I get back.’
Harriet put her phone on charge, and then drove off to stock up at the village stores before she went on with her sea, sun and sand programme. By the time she got back the sun was hot. She changed into a bikini, slathered herself with sunscreen and took a packed tote bag down to the beach to sunbathe.
Hunger, plus respect for the sun, drove Harriet back up to the house after only a short spell of sunbathing. After lunch, mindful that she was here for a rest, she lay propped up on her bed with the window open to the sea breezes while she left a message on Julia’s phone in case her sister needed to be in touch over the forthcoming photo shoot. Duty done, Harriet put her phone with the rest of her belongings and went down to the beach again. She found a new spot to take advantage of the hot afternoon sun, but when sunbathing palled after a while she went for a swim. She waded until she could dive into the waves and struck out with a workmanlike crawl across the small cove. On the way back she coughed, swallowed a mouthful of water and sputtered irritably, wishing she’d kept to paddling. And screamed her head off when a hard arm came round her chest and an inexorable hand held her chin up as her rescuer began to tow her back to shore.
‘Quiet! Keep still, for God’s sake,’ grated a breathless, furious voice as her legs kicked out. ‘You’re out of danger, so relax and let me do the work.’
When her panting rescuer finally stood up in the shallows, Harriet slid to her feet and backed away, glaring at him without gratitude.
‘What the blazes are you doing here, James Crawford?’ she panted, the breath whistling through her chest.
Good question, he thought grimly. Behaving like an utter fool by the look of it.
‘I was enjoying a peaceful swim out there until you arrived,’ she informed him.
Breathing hard, James thrust a hand through his streaming hair. ‘Peaceful!’ He took her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. ‘I thought you were drowning, woman. There’s a hell of an undertow here further out. I thought you were caught in it.’
‘I wasn’t idiot enough to go out that far! The only danger was cardiac arrest when you grabbed me!’ Harriet hurri
ed across the sand, coughing up water as she bent to pick up her towel.
James eyed her grimly as he gathered up the sweater and shoes he’d discarded. His wet jeans moulded every muscular inch of him so faithfully that after one look Harriet buried her hot face in the towel. ‘It’s stupidity to swim here alone.’
Harriet ground her teeth, anger boiling about in a stew of several other emotions. She took in a few careful breaths, and emerged from her towel to face him. ‘You’d better come up to the cottage to get dry.’ She tugged on her espadrilles and climbed up to the house, leaving James to follow behind on bare wet feet, cursing at loose pebbles as he went.
James took a suitcase from the boot of his car as she unlocked the door.
‘Don’t worry; I just want some dry clothes,’ he said, smiling sardonically at the look she threw at him. ‘I’m booked in at the hotel on the Point.’
‘You’re on holiday here?’ Harriet said incredulously, and took two towels from the rack by the sink. She handed him one and used the other to rub vainly at the salty wet tangle of her hair. ‘Not that it matters. I won’t be staying long. I’m sure we can keep out of each other’s hair until I leave.’
‘That’s a cold reception for a man who’s just driven all the way across England and Wales in time to save you from drowning,’ he retorted.
‘I was not drowning,’ she said through her teeth. ‘Does Moira know you’re here?’
‘I told her I might call in while I was in the area.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘But if you object to my presence I’ll take myself off.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t object, James. Have you eaten?’
‘No. I came here first before checking in. Which is a damn good thing. It took years off my life when I saw you flailing about in the sea.’
‘I was not flailing,’ she said, dangerously quiet. ‘And now we both need to get dry—’
‘You first,’ he said instantly. ‘Get in a really hot shower. I’ll have one after you, and then I’ll take you out to dinner.’
‘Yes to the shower, no to dinner,’ she said flatly, and took off up the stairs, leaving him scowling after her.
A Wicked Persuasion Page 12
