by Pamela Pope
'Meredith!' her father called.
She went into his room, and there was a certain comfort about the sameness of everything. The gold writing on the window announcing that this was a solicitor's office was still as difficult to read back to front, and though the leather chairs had been re-upholstered, familiar dents and ink marks remained on the vast writing desk, and the bookshelves sported very few new volumes. No, nothing had changed except the addition to the nameplate above the front entrance, which now read 'Paxton, Smith and Hamblyn.'
'We're early yet,' said Howard. 'When Betty comes she'll start showing you the ropes. How do you feel about throwing your lot in with us for a while, now you've got here, I mean?'
'Nervous,' said Meredith.
He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 'Nonsense! After the work you've been doing the job here'll be a snip.' He paused, weighing up the problem from her point of view. 'Tell you what, shall I ask Betty to go in with Joss today, and you can work for me? I guess I can put up with you!'
She smiled at him gratefully, but refused. 'Thanks, but if I'm going to be working with Joss Hamblyn that's where I'll start. No sense prolonging the agony. Besides, I know what a sacrifice it would be for you to lose Betty even for a day.'
Like the ink marks on the desk, it seemed as if Betty had been there for ever. She could remember being brought into her father's office before she even started school and Betty had kept sweets for her in a special drawer. How could she bear to have stayed in a job so long? It was lucky she had never married, or her father would have had to train someone else to take on important slices of his work.
'You'll like Joss when you get to know him properly,' Howard was saying. His mouth quirked up lopsidedly into a grin that showed he was still a very attractive man. 'Most women find him irresistible, for some reason.'
'Well, I can resist him without any trouble at all.' Meredith said shortly. 'If that's the mail, Daddy, I'll take it over to his office and get it sorted before he comes in.' She paused. 'By the way, I can't go on calling you Daddy at work. How do you fancy me using your first name?'
'I fancy that just fine. It'll knock ten years off my age, and that can't be bad.' When she tweaked his ear playfully, he gave her a quick hug. 'It is good to have you home, Merry.'
She crossed the hall, feeling chilly in spite of the mildness of the spring day. Joss Hamblyn had taken over the litigation side of the practice and his room was at the back of the house, but though she knew he hadn't arrived she delayed entering for several seconds. She had managed to put up a mental barrier over the weekend, refusing to think about him, but now it had to be pulled down, and she was not looking forward to it. She didn't want to touch his books and papers, and she knew instinctively that whatever she did in the office this morning would be wrong. Anticipating it, her nerves began to tingle. Then she muttered, 'So what!' under her breath, turned the handle and went inside.
Ellen Munro had been busy here, too. Evidence of her artistic flare abounded. The walls were a delicate mushroom shade, as was the ceiling, with the exception of the stucco work which had been left white and now became a feature of the room. The curtains were grey velvet, and an armchair was covered in pink floral material that went well with the grey carpet, but the old marble fireplace and original oak desk were unchanged. It was a pleasant room, looking out on a walled garden, and Meredith realised how nice it must have been when this was a family residence. It made her father's room seem cold and inhospitable by comparison, and a new indignation welled up in her.
Joss Hamblyn had everything going for him, didn't he? He had obviously established himself already as a fine solicitor. With clients like Corinne Loring winning a good reputation for him it was no wonder he could afford a house like Eden Farm. It was surprising that Edencombe was big enough for him. There couldn't be that many important divorce or custody cases around here to bring him further notoriety.
Betty came and helped her with the mail and explained some of the routine procedures. Dear Betty, looking more like a schoolmarm than ever, thought it grand having Meredith around.
'Keep your father in his place,' she said, with a twinkle. 'And this one can do with tough handling. Mary was too soft on him.'
'Mary was soft on Joss Hamblyn? I can't imagine it.'
'Oh, everyone is,' said Betty.
He was very late arriving. Perhaps he never bothered to come before ten o'clock. Meredith had never known her father unpunctual and she found dilatory behaviour inexcusable. When he finally came in there was a churning feeling in her stomach, and the anger that had been boiling up ever since her mother had put her right as to his identity could no longer be contained. As soon as he came through the door antagonism sparked between them, and his attempt at a gracious welcome was lost in electrified awareness of mutual aversion.
'Why didn't you let me know who you were?' she demanded. 'You let me make a fool of myself and all the while you were laughing at me. It was despicable!'
He came over to the desk, his face darkening. 'It's customary to say good morning before you launch into a tirade, Miss Paxton. Were manners not necessary at the Piers Loring Group? As it seems we shall be meeting here daily perhaps we can get it right at the start.'
'If this is the time you always come in I shall feel inclined to make it good afternoon,' she said sarcastically, with a deliberate glance at the clock.
He ignored the inference and picked up his letters. 'I take it you've been through these and set aside anything important.'
'There's one that needs your attention. I've put it with the relevant file on the case. My father has already seen to his urgent business.'
She was baiting him, watching for his reaction, and she didn't know why she was doing it. Joss put both hands on the desk and leaned towards her, his eyes cold as granite. A shiver went through her and she pulled the lilac cashmere jacket round her shoulders, her fingers gripping it with unnecessary strength.
'If you're trying to tell me something, it doesn't cut any ice,' he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 'I'm not impressed at having the secretary of a jumped-up millionaire coming here to run my office. Now, if you'd bothered to look at my diary first thing this morning, as Mary always did, you would have seen that I had an appointment at nine o'clock to see someone on Sid Frank's behalf. He's the landlord of the New Inn, if you remember.'
'How convenient! Are your first appointments always on licensed premises?'
The retort was out before she had time to consider the inadvisability of it. She had said the first ridiculous thing that came into her head, and in different circumstances it could have been a joke. Joss Hamblyn didn't take it as one. He came round the desk and caught her arm in an iron grip.
'I won't tolerate insolence from anyone,' he snapped. 'I don't care whether you're Howard's daughter or who you are, if you speak to me like that again, you're out!'
The jacket fell from her shoulders and the fingers round her arm had masculine strength that gave no quarter, but she wouldn't cry out even when the pressure felt like a tourniquet. She looked at his hand, then raised her eyes to meet his and was lost somewhere in their green depths. They bored into her, their intensity weakening her resistance, and she had the curious feeling that this man intended to dominate her. She ought to have seized the opportunity his ultimatum had created and used it as a means of escape, but those eyes held her captive, and almost against her will she found herself apologising.
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'It's the sort of stupid remark I would have made to Piers and he would have laughed.'
Her voice had softened and he accepted the apology reluctantly. His hand dropped from her arm.
'When we're on the same terms as you were with Piers Loring I'll allow you to make Loring-type quips. Until then, please remember this is my office and you are an employee.'
'What makes you think we'll ever be on such terms?' she asked. 'Piers and I had a very special relationship.'
'I know.' Joss went over to the window and
even the line of his back was arrogant. The grey suit he wore gave him the right professional air, and a severity she couldn't associate with the spell he was supposed to cast on women and children. But though she hated to admit it, there had been a certain rakish charm about him in open-necked shirt and corduroy pants. 'I know a lot more about you than you think, Meredith.'
'Indeed!'
She stood very still, sensing danger. The air quivered with it, and she moved to the centre of the room as if afraid of being cornered. Her palms felt clammy and her breathing was fast and shallow, but she set her head high and waited for what was to come, giving him no encouragement.
Joss turned slowly. 'Don't worry, anything I learn is strictly confidential.'
'Why should I worry? If you've been trying to dig up anything shady I'm sure you were unsuccessful. And why should you want to pry into my private affairs?'
He was blotting out some of the sunlight and his tall figure cast a shadow across the desk. He filled her with loathing and a dreadful disquiet, though it was difficult to define the reason. Then he smiled unexpectedly and she was thrown into greater confusion because the gesture was boyishly beguiling.
'You're right,' he agreed. 'Your private life is your own. But I'm very attached to your parents and it makes me sad to think of the way you intended to deceive them.'
Her tongue passed nervously over her top lip. 'And what further crime do you think I had in mind?'
She was hedging, trying to stall him, because there was no doubt Joss Hamblyn had discovered the one fact she had hoped to keep secret from her parents. Damn him!
His eyes held hers mercilessly as he said: 'I know, my dear Meredith, that you were on the point of marrying Piers Loring.'
CHAPTER THREE
Meredith was trembling and she knew Joss could see it. The shock of the statement went deep, because the one thing she had wanted more than anything in the world was to be married to Piers. They had kept their plans secret because she had been afraid her father might try to stop the wedding, though he would have had to know once it was an accomplished fact. But it hadn't taken place, and she had decided it was unnecessary to hurt her parents more by letting them know how close it had been.
'I don't doubt your friend Corinne gave you that piece of information,' she said. 'Discretion isn't one of her virtues.'
'Piers told her himself.'
'In self-defence, I shouldn't wonder.' She gave him a straight look. 'He didn't care much for his stepmother and he wouldn't have taken her into his confidence.'
Joss sat down at his desk. 'She told me because she thought someone here ought to know about it before the news became public, and she was right. You couldn't have kept it secret, you know.'
Meredith clasped her arms round her tightly, warding off the pain that memories brought. She hadn't let herself think about it, much less talk about it, since the crash, but this man had touched on that raw subject with all the cruelty of an unfeeling moron.
'I wouldn't have tried,' she said. 'But there's no need to hurt my parents now by telling them what might have been.' She paused and took a breath. 'The day Piers died should have been our wedding day, but with predictable timing something more important cropped up and he had to fly to Paris instead, so the ceremony was postponed. It wasn't the first time.'
Joss eyed her keenly, witnessed her grief, and the first hint of compassion crept into his voice.
'I'm sorry, Meredith. I shoot off my mouth sometimes when I shouldn't,' he said. He picked up a paperweight and balanced it in his hand, weighing up his next move. When it came he was still scathing. 'That was a pretty ghastly thing to happen to any girl. But to be that close to marrying into a fortune must have made it even worse.'
The prickling of indignation was like a bombardment of pins against her skin.
'I hope you meant that remark as a misplaced form of sympathy, because if not I take exception to it. It was cynical and not very clever.'
'So money had nothing to do with the wedding plans,' said Joss sceptically. 'Perhaps that's just as well. It's easy to fall off the top of a ladder, and Piers Loring got there a bit too fast for safety to my way of thinking. You might have had to pick up the pieces.'
'I would have done that, too,' she said. 'But there was no fear of it happening, I assure you. I had complete faith in him. Why else would I have invested all my money at the outset?'
'And you've come out of it no poorer that you went in, I'm sure.'
Meredith wanted to strike that handsome face, but the satisfaction wouldn't be worth the loss of dignity and would only weaken her position. He was taking pleasure in trying to annoy her, but she was not going to rise to the bait. Better to stay coldly aloof.
'If it bugs you that I'm doing someone else out of a job I'll be happy to resign before I even begin,' she said, keeping her tone level with difficulty. 'It was my father's idea that I should be your temporary secretary. He thought it would benefit you and be good therapy for me, but obviously he was wrong on both counts.' She waited, half turning her head, but she was afraid to take her eyes off him in case he attacked again while she was unprepared. Then she went on: 'Just to set the record straight, and before the subject is closed for good, let me tell you I would have married Piers while we were still at university if he'd asked me, when we had nothing but driving ambition. So whatever gold-digging ideas you may have had about me, forget them.'
Joss looked faintly abashed. 'Okay, so I guess you loved the guy after all.' He stood up, acknowledging her right to be resentful of interference, but he didn't leave it there. When he spoke again his voice was soft, almost caring. 'Meredith, has it ever occurred to you that you might have had a lucky escape? That marriage to Piers Loring might have made you very unhappy indeed?'
She met his eyes warily, distrusting the concern. 'What makes you say that?'
'Corinne always said there was something odd about Piers. He never had time for anything except work.'
He had succeeded in whipping up anger. She was furious.
'If you believe Corinne Loring, you'll believe anything!' she stormed. 'I've seen her trying to get round Piers and becoming vindictive when it didn't work.'
'Are you forgetting I'm a solicitor, and a good one at that? It's my job to judge whether people are telling the truth,' he said coldly.
'Then how is it you let her blind you? Were you that infatuated?' She was governed by emotion now, speaking out involuntarily with the intention of hurting. It wasn't often she was goaded enough to retaliate, but Joss Hamblyn qualified as the most loathsome man she had met in a long while.
'We'll leave her out of the discussion,' he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
'Why?' countered Meredith. 'Why should you object to hearing things about Corinne when you're intent on degrading Piers?'
'You're prejudiced, Meredith.'
'I've every right to be. Piers isn't alive to defend himself.' What was wrong with them, sparring like enemies when they hardly even knew each other? If Joss had said a civil word to her in their brief acquaintance it had passed unnoticed. 'I can't stay and listen to any more,' she said, slipping on her jacket. 'I don't know why you've got such a low opinion of me. What have I done to you?'
Joss got up and came round the desk, lifting his hands hesitantly, and she took a step backwards. The thought of any contact with him filled her with revulsion. Suddenly he gave a wry smile and the merest acquiescent nod, accepting her question as valid.
'What have you done to me?' he asked, the words sounding strangely perplexed. 'For some reason you seem to bring out the worst in me. How would it be if we made a fresh start? I'll come in the door and introduce myself properly and we'll behave just like ordinary people. I'm not usually so boorish, I promise you.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' she said, and was tempted to believe the gesture of contrition was genuine. But it was too late for him to put on the charm and expect her to be impressed. She made an effort and composed herself, aware that she must meet his ov
erture halfway. 'If you feel that we can work together in a reasonably amicable atmosphere I'm willing to start again, but if you really don't want me here, please say so outright, and I'll leave now.'
She was a tall, slender girl, but she had to look up at Joss when he was near.
'I do want you here, Meredith,' he said, 'and not only because I know it's what your father wants. Please stay.'
He stretched out his hand, and she found herself taking it, her own lost in his firm grip. A curious warmth flowed between them which was not unpleasant, and though the hardness of his fingers made her rings bite into the skin she found an almost masochistic satisfaction in the sharp pain. So this was a kind of truce. Suddenly he gave a dazzling smile which lit up his whole face and took her breath away. If this had really been their first meeting she would have felt dizzy at the reception.
The rest of the morning passed swiftly. Joss had cancelled any further appointments so that he was free to explain the way he liked things done, and by lunchtime Meredith's head was buzzing. She didn't need to be told how good he was at his job; the work he did spoke for itself. The receptionist and the typist in the outer office were plainly in awe if him, and even Betty seemed to treat him with a certain deference that was quite surprising. Meredith raised her eyebrows and wondered what they would have made of the slanging match that had taken place earlier. Obviously the female staff respected Joss Hamblyn's air of authority and never crossed him. Well, from now on she would be equally remote and refer only to the work in hand.
She decided not to go home for lunch but to take the car and find somewhere to sit quietly while her head cleared; an hour of peaceful solitude by a stretch of water was what she needed. She looked in on her father and told him where she was going, then set off.
The river hurried down from the moors, bubbling and frothing over rocks until it reached Edencombe, where it slowed to a more sedate pace and broadened out round the eastern side of the village. At the end of the main street it flowed beneath a mediaeval seven-arched bridge of mellow stone, and a mile beyond that was a pull-in where parking was allowed for anyone wanting to walk through woodland that bordered the water. Meredith parked there, glad that no other cars were around, and spent several minutes just enjoying the soothing quietness.
