—EMMA HARTE, A Woman of Substance
6
Linnet wished she could go up to the moors, but she knew it was impossible this morning. Snow had fallen during the night, and the line of hills along the horizon were topped with glistening white. She had to admit that it would be unbearably cold on the tops, as the locals called the highest parts of the moorland and the high fells that dropped down into the Dales. The snow would make them impossible to traverse, and then there was the wind. It was always blowing up there, even in the best of weather.
For as long as she could remember, Linnet had loved the moors above Pennistone Royal, the lovely, ancient house in Yorkshire where she had been born and which had belonged to her great-grandmother Emma Harte.
One day it would be hers. Her mother had told her that in great confidence. It was a big secret; no one else could know.
When she was still only a toddler, her mother had taken her up there to play amongst the heather and bracken, under a sky as blue as the tiny speedwells growing in the fields below. The moors were Linnet’s special place, her haven whenever something ailed her. Her mother had told her a long time ago that she had inherited Emma’s love of them, certainly more than anyone else in the family.
“You’re just like Grandy,” Paula would often tell her, smiling indulgently. “Whenever you get a chance, you go rushing up there, especially when you’re troubled or worried about something. That’s exactly what your great-grandmother did for her entire life.”
Linnet was beset by problems on this chilly Saturday morning, all manner of troubling thoughts jostling around in her head. Sighing, she walked down the gravel path toward the Rhododendron Walk and endeavored to sort her worries in the order of their importance.
Uppermost in her mind was Jonathan Ainsley. A short while ago, Jack Figg had phoned to tell her that Ainsley was now staying at his house in Thirsk, and his presence in the vicinity made her feel even more uneasy. Jack forever called him a loose cannon, and the idea that he might well be just that always put her on her guard.
Then there was the situation with Evan’s family. Uncle Robin had invited them all to stay with him for the wedding, and this was now alarming Jack. He had voiced the thought that they would all be “sitting ducks” should Jonathan Ainsley decide to pay an unexpected visit to his father.
“But he can’t shoot them dead,” she had countered. “All he can do actually, Jack, is be very rude to them, and nasty to his father. Uncle Robin’s used to that by now, I should think.”
“Couldn’t they be accommodated elsewhere for the duration of the wedding festivities?” Jack had asked, and she had then suggested he speak to her mother. “I suppose they could stay with us at Pennistone Royal,” she had gone on swiftly, “or with Aunt Emily and Uncle Winston in Middleham. Allington Hall is big enough. But Mummy’ll know best. Mind you, Uncle Robin won’t like it if she interferes with his plans.”
Jack had answered that Paula was head of the family and he was going to call her the moment he hung up. And then he did just that, muttering, “And what she says goes.”
Linnet had nodded to herself as she replaced the receiver, thinking Jack was right.
Aside from Jonathan Ainsley, Paula’s cousin and the family’s bitterest enemy, Linnet was somewhat concerned about Evan. Fortunately she was all right, and there were no problems with the babies, but that fall still gave Linnet cause for worry.
Evan was the most nimble person she knew and moved with a unique elegance and grace. Linnet couldn’t for the life of her understand how Evan had missed the seat of the chair, hit the floor the way she had. It both baffled and bothered her.
Evan and Gideon had arrived at Pennistone Royal on Thursday, and last night Linnet had spoken to Evan about her fall when she and Julian had arrived for supper with them.
Evan had laughed it off when Linnet had started to probe gently, so she had let the subject slide away without further comment. What truly disturbed Linnet was the remembrance, so clearly etched in her mind, of Angharad standing over Evan, looking down at her, doing nothing to help. There had been such an odd expression in Angharad’s eyes that Linnet had done a double take, had given her a longer, harder stare, and been discomfited when she recognized that Evan’s adopted sister was actually looking gleeful. Linnet had not missed the inherent spite in her, and she was enormously troubled by this young woman’s sudden appearance on the scene.
Angharad Hughes had not been due to come to London until next week. She bears watching, Linnet now decided, shrugging further into her cape, increasing her pace down the hill. I wouldn’t put anything past her.
When Linnet had arrived at Pennistone Royal last night, her mother had asked her to stay for the whole of the coming week so that she could help with Evan’s wedding. “Evan can’t possibly do much, darling,” Paula had pointed out. “She’s so very pregnant, and after that awful fall in her office, Emily and I don’t think she should be exerting herself.”
Immediately, Linnet had agreed to stay on. She and her mother were close and always had been, and whenever she could ease Paula’s burdens, Linnet tried to do so.
Earlier in the week, Linnet had considered talking to her mother about making changes at the store in Knightsbridge, but now she realized this was hardly the right time for such a discussion. The wedding was distracting her mother as much as it was Aunt Emily, mother of the groom, who was undeniably her favorite child. So how could Linnet bring up old-fashioned windows that needed a fresh approach? Or explain the importance of having a spa or suggest the idea of devoting an entire floor to brides and weddings? Paula seemed set in her ways these days, much to Linnet’s chagrin.
Put it on hold, she muttered to herself and continued on her way, heading closer to the walk. Her mother had created this over thirty-five years ago, for Emma Harte. The Rhododendron Walk at Temple Newsam, a stately home near Leeds, had been the inspiration, and Paula, inveterate gardener that she was, had copied it down to the last detail.
In the summer months it was extraordinary to behold, the glossy leaves of the rhododendron bushes alive with color from the giant flowers: white, lilac, and pale pink giving way to dark rose and purple. The flowery bower was breathtaking at that time of the year; now, in winter, the dark green leaves were speckled with frozen snowflakes and tiny icicles.
Linnet stopped and glanced up at the sky. It was forbidding, curdled and cold. The wind was beginning to blow the steel gray clouds away, and quite suddenly a weak sun was visible, a pale silver orb against the expanse of blue. She was used to the sudden changes in the weather in Yorkshire, especially in the Dales, where she had grown up. Rain was prevalent throughout the year; but apparently it wasn’t going to be a wet, gloomy day after all, and this pleased Linnet.
Striding out, humming to herself, she began to enjoy her walk. But at the same time her busy mind was focusing once again on the Hughes family.
On the one hand, she was well aware that Uncle Robin would be upset and disappointed if Owen and his family didn’t stay with him. Robin Ainsley had discovered a new lease on life through the advent of Evan Hughes and her father, Owen, his long-lost son by Glynnis Hughes. Certainly he looked better than he had for several years. On the other hand, the Hughes family presented problems all of a sudden, primarily because Jonathan Ainsley was in Yorkshire. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he resented the very idea of a half brother in the shape of Owen Hughes.
Jack believed that Ainsley was dangerous, and Linnet had to pay attention to Jack because he had rarely if ever been wrong, especially when it came to their security.
Perhaps her mother would talk to Uncle Robin, make him understand his newfound family might be at risk with Jonathan floating around. Yet Robin Ainsley was a stubborn man, and full of confidence about his own judgment. He had been a Member of Parliament for years, and he was a lawyer as well, although he had never practiced. Still, he was an intelligent man, in fact, a brilliant man, as his career in government attested. Would he l
isten to Paula, his niece, daughter of his half sister Daisy, to whom he was close these days?
No, wait a minute, Linnet instructed herself. It had just struck her that the best person to tackle Robin was his other half sister, Edwina. They had been especially close throughout their long lives. “Hand in glove” was the way her mother had described them recently, pointing out to Linnet that it was obviously Edwina who had helped to facilitate Robin’s long affair with Glynnis.
That’s it, Linnet told herself, and she came to a snap decision. She would telephone Great-Aunt Edwina the minute she got back and explain the situation. Paula might be head of the family, but Edwina was the eldest of them all at ninety-five. Furthermore, she still had all her marbles. Even more important, she had immense clout with Robin. To her he would listen, Linnet was convinced.
Glancing at her watch, she realized that Great-Aunt Edwina wouldn’t be at Niddersley House now. When Linnet had spoken to India at the Leeds store yesterday, her cousin had told her she was taking Edwina for lunch at Dusty’s house. At this moment India would be driving her grandmother to Willows Hall near Harrogate.
“Drat,” Linnet muttered and pressed on along the walk, formulating a plan as she strode. She would phone Willows Hall after lunch and talk to Edwina then. And she had no doubt that Great-Aunt Edwina would be delighted to jump into the fray. She had always had the demeanor of a British general and loved to boss everyone, especially her siblings, around.
Julian Kallinski stood at the window of the bedroom at Pennistone Royal which he shared with Linnet, looking out across the lawns. They were covered in hoarfrost, and the skeletal branches of the trees were dripping long icicles, which looked like miniature stalactites. The whole scene resembled a painting in grisaille, the black and white tints strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of the pale sky. In the distance he could see Linnet coming down the Rhododendron Walk, bundled up in her favorite cape. It was bright red, and she was hard to miss, even from this distance. A smile struck his mouth, and his eyes brightened at the sight of his wife. Wife, he thought, she’s my wife.
He suddenly wondered what he would have done if Linnet hadn’t come to her senses, if she hadn’t ended their silly estrangement. No, not their estrangement. Hers, actually, from him. He had never felt estranged from her, only puzzled by her odd behavior, and achingly vulnerable to her in so many ways.
After several months of their being apart, he had forced the issue, made her see him by not taking no for an answer. Fortunately, he had chosen the right moment, and she had come back to him willingly, lovingly. And during her emotional and physical capitulation to him, in the searing heat of their mutual passion, she had told him she loved him and only him, and she had finally agreed to become his wife.
But what if he hadn’t become assertive because of his frustration, annoyance, and anger? What if none of those words had ever been said? By him and by her. How could he have continued his life without her by his side?
It would have been difficult, most certainly, even trying, because their families were so intertwined. He and she might have broken up, but they would have been constantly thrown together for the rest of their lives on special family occasions.
The three clans, Hartes, O’Neills, and Kallinskis, had been part of each other’s daily lives for well over a century, since the day Emma Harte, Blackie O’Neill, and David Kallinski had met and become best friends in the early years of the twentieth century in Leeds. And they had remained friends until their deaths.
Exile, Julian thought. I would have had to exile myself. I would have had to leave England, go to New York and run the American end of Kallinski Industries. That would have been the only solution. And my life would have been empty and banal without her, without my lovely, red-haired Linnet by my side.
But he wasn’t without her. They were married now and had been for over five weeks, just as they had planned to be since their childhood … their dream of marital bliss together had come true in the end.
Smiling to himself, filled with happiness, Julian turned away from the window and went over to the desk in the corner. As he passed the old Queen Anne chest, he caught sight of their wedding picture in its silver frame. He paused, staring at it for a moment. It was the big family portrait with himself and Linnet in the center, and surrounding them were his parents, her parents, her grandmother Daisy, Great-Aunt Edwina, and the two grandfathers, O’Neill and Kallinski. And there were their siblings and cousins and the aunts and uncles. The three clans in full force.
Julian focused his attention on his grandfather Sir Ronald Kallinski, who had managed to stave off death in order to attend their wedding. But, sadly, he had died in his sleep three days later, just when Julian and Linnet had arrived in Barbados for their honeymoon.
His father and her parents, and Grandfather O’Neill in particular, had insisted they not come back to England for the funeral. “He wouldn’t have wanted that, Jules,” his father had said to him, using the diminutive of his name yet speaking in his firmest voice. “He was thrilled to see you and Linnet married, overjoyed to know the three clans were united in marriage. ‘All mixed into a lovely stew,’ he said to me at the reception. And he was finally able to let go. He died peacefully in his sleep, and he was a happy man. We’ll bury him quietly, and I’ll start planning his memorial service. You’ll both be here for that.”
Julian had told his father he wanted to help with the plans for the memorial, and Michael Kallinski had agreed that they would do it together. “Remember, he was in his nineties.” His father had then added, “And he had a great life, a big life. He was ready to go, he was ill. And tired, really. But as I said, a happy man because of you two. So, enjoy your honeymoon, and good-bye.”
Linnet had been loving, full of sympathy, and she had helped him to get through a few truly sorrowful days. Finally, after much discussion, they had taken the advice of their families and remained in Barbados.
Moving away from the chest, sitting down at the desk, Julian thought of the coming week. He was going to be at the Leeds office of Kallinski Industries, and he would greatly miss his grandfather’s presence there. For the past six months or so, Sir Ronnie, as he was called by everyone, had made the Leeds offices his headquarters, since he was no longer fit enough to travel to London.
Naturally his considerable influence was everywhere, from the wonderful Post-Impressionist art and the Barbara Hepworth sculptures in the lobby to the coolness of the upper floors. Sir Ronnie had insisted that the airconditioning was turned on, no matter the time of year. He liked his working environment to be cool, which was why many of the women employees referred to Kallinski House as “the frozen North,” and “Iceland.”
Julian looked across at the door as it flew open, and his reflective expression was obscured by a bright smile. He jumped up.
There she was, his beautiful Linnet.
She hurried forward, smiling back at him, and when she came to a standstill, she wrapped her arms around him, held him close.
“Are you all right? You looked so sad when I came in,” she whispered against his cheek.
“I’m fine, really. I was just remembering Grandfather.”
“I know” Linnet drew away and stared up into his dark blue eyes, almost violet, like her mother’s. “Don’t forget what the Hartes have always said about a loved one who has died … in my heart forever.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I remember that.”
“And it’s true, you know.”
“Yes, Linnet, I think it is. I feel that Grandfather is in my heart forever … . That motto of your family is absolutely correct.”
She smiled at him, touched his face with a fingertip. “You know something strange? Even though I never knew Emma, I feel her in my heart. Sometimes I think she’s all around me, loving me, guiding me, watching over me.” She put her head to one side. “Do you think that’s silly, Jules?”
“Of course not. I certainly wouldn’t be so arrogant as to dismiss such feelings. Ther
e’s so much we don’t know about this world, or the other … and I’m happy that you feel she’s watching over you.”
Linnet stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips, then asked, “Have you seen Gideon and Evan yet this morning?”
“Yes,” Julian answered and led her over to the sofa near the window. “Let’s sit for a minute. I’ve several things to tell you. First, Emily came over, and Gideon and I had coffee with her; then she took your mother off to Beck House in West Tanfield. Gideon is driving over there later with Evan, and he asked us to go to tea at the house and have a look around. How do you feel about that?”
“It’s great! I’d love to see how far they’ve come in the decoration. So, does that mean we can have lunch alone? Just the two of us?”
“Not exactly,” he answered, his eyes suddenly mischievous.
“Oh, who’s here that I don’t know about?”
“Your beloved brother Lorne.”
“Oh goody! That’s wonderful. Oh, sorry, Jules, about our tête-à-tête, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all, darling, I’ve always had a soft spot for Lorne. But, actually, that’s not all of it. He’s here with his twin and her French friend.”
“Tessa and Jean-Claude are here?” Linnet sounded surprised.
“That’s right, and Tessa says she’s going to cook dinner for everyone, so we’re in for a treat.” He grinned. “She’s making her specialty.”
“Oh, God, not coq au vin.”
“Oh no, she doesn’t make that anymore, at least so she told me. We’re going to have lamb stew.”
Linnet began to chuckle. “Come on, let’s go down to the kitchen and see what’s going on. In the meantime, let me tell you about the call I had from Jack Figg just as I was leaving for my walk.”
“Something important?”
“Just that the dreaded Jonathan Ainsley is staying at his house in Thirsk. Jack’s a bit worried about that.”