Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 24

"Yes, or rather, Uncle David. Aer Lingus has a flight out early this evening, but he doesn't think Auntie Daisy will make the airport in time. So he's arranged for your mother to be flown over by private plane.

Uncle David's going to phone Edwina right now to let her know Auntie Daisy's virtually on . her way.

Your mother's packing. She'll call before she leaves the flat."

"That's a relief. Did you speak to Uncle Randolph?"

"No, he was out. But Vivienne told me Sally's due back in Middleham shortly. It's been raining in the

Lake District, so she packed her painting gear and is driving home. I told Vivienne to have her call here the minute she arrives."

"Was she curious?"

"Not really. I said you wanted to speak to Sally, and got off the phone quickly."

"I dread having to tell her about this-" Paula murmured, her face grim, her eyes reflecting her deep

concern."Yes, it's going to be awful for her, but she'll have to be told. In person, I think, don't you?""Absolutely. Well, let's not waste, time. We'd better get on, Emily.""What shall I do next?""Could you bring the babies into the house, please? You can park the pram in here for a while. I must call those other editors."

"Yes, do it, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Paula reached Pete Smythe, editor of the Yorkshire Evening Standard, at his home in Knaresborough. She repeated the story she had told Sam Fellowes. After sympathizing with her about the accident, Pete concurred with her decision and gave her no arguments.

"I wouldn't have run anything anyway, Paula," Pete told her, "I know how Mrs. Harte feels. She'd skin me alive if a single line appeared about any of you, regardless of the circ.u.mstances.'

"Sam Fellowes was a bit difficult," Paula volunteered. "I hope I'm not going to meet any similar resistance from our other editors."

"You won't. Sam's a special case. Not the easiest person to deal with. If you want, I'll make the calls to our Doncaster, Sheffield, Bradford, and Darlington papers."

"Oh, would you, Pete? That'd be marvelous. I really appreciate your help. Thanks a lot."

The phone shrilled the moment Paula put it down. It was her mother.

"h.e.l.lo, darling," Daisy said with her usual calm control. "I'm about to leave. I'm taking a cab to the airport so that your father can be here at the flat, just in case you need him. He spoke to Edwina a few minutes ago. She's relieved I'm on my way. He said she sounded less agitated. The police have left. Anthony's with her. They're waiting for your call."

"I know. I'll ring them when we hang up. Thanks for going over to Ireland, Mother. You're the only one who can handle this. Edwina does trust you, and you'll deal with everyone diplomatically, which is more than she could manage."

"Heavens, Paula, I don't mind. We are a family and we must stick together. But what an appalling situation! I can't understand the police over there ... it seems very straightforward to me. Your father agrees. Anyway, talking about it endlessly won't solve a thing. I must rush. Good-bye, dear."

"Bye, Mummy, and have a safe journey. We'll speak tomorrow."

Emily was pushing the pram down the two low steps into the conservatory when Paula glanced up from her pad. "I'm going to make a fast call to Henry, and then I'll talk to Ireland." As she dialed Henry's number, Paula quickly gave Emily details about her conversations with Pete Smythe and her mother.

It was Henry Rossiter's housekeeper who answered at his Gloucestershire house. .Paula spoke to her briefly, replaced the receiver, said to Emily, "I just missed him. He's driving back to London. Apparently he should be arriving around eight-thirty. Do you think I should call Gran's solicitors or wait to speak to Henry?"

"I'm not sure . . . What do you think Grandy.would do?" She answered herself instantly. "She'd talk to Henry first."

"That's my feeling," Paula agreed, her hand resting on the telephone. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to make the call to Edwina at Clonloughlin. After picking up the receiver, she instantly put it back in the cradle, swung around. "Sally may be in touch any minute. You'll have to talk to her, Emily, so let's decide what you'll say."

The two young women stared at each other worriedly for the longest moment.

Finally Paula said, "It seems to me that the wisest thing would be to tell her that I have a problem, that I want to see her, talk to her, and will she please drive over immediately."

"She'H want to know what s wrong on the phone!" Emily cried, her eyes flaring. "I know I said we should tell her face to face, but now I'm wondering what explanation to give."

"You'll manage. Wriggle out of it, don't say anything concrete. You're very good at being evasive, Emily." "I am?" Emily gave Paula a doubtful stare. "If you say so." She shrugged, then ran over to the pram, where Tessa was wailing.

Paula sprang up and followed her cousin. "They're probably both damp and need changing. Let's take them upstairs anyway, and maybe you could then start preparing their bottles."

"Nora would be off today, wouldn't she?" Emily moaned.

"It's always the way," Paula murmured, rocking her baby daughter in her arms, making soft, hushing sounds.

"Dower House Clonloughlin," a quiet male voice announced when Paula got through to Ireland fifteen minutes later.

She gave her name, asked to speak to the Earl, and a split second later Anthony was on the line. "Paula . . . h.e.l.lo. Thanks for everything, for taking charge the way you have. I'm very grateful. My mother was panicked earlier, quite at her wits' end, and she fell apart when the police came back."

"I realize that, and it was nothing, really. I'm glad to help in any way I can. How are you feeling?" "Fine. Very fine," he a.s.serted. "I'm holding up pretty well under the circ.u.mstances. This is extremely unpleasant, of course, but I know it's going to be all right."

"Yes," Paula said, thinking he did not sound fine. Not in the least. His voice was weary, drained. Hoping she sounded more positive than she felt, she added, "Everything will be over and done with in the next

twenty-four hours. You'll see.

Try not to worry in the meantime. I'd like to know what's been happening, but first I must tell you that Emily spoke to Sally a few minutes ago. She's coming over here. She thinks J have some sort of crisis.

We thought it was wiser not to tell her about this on the telephone."

"I'm relieved to hear you've contacted her, Paula. I've been worried about Sally. I didn't know where to reach her in the Lake District. When we spoke on Friday, Sally said she'd call me on Monday or Tuesday. Perhaps you would ask her to ring me, once you've explained this dreadful situation."

"Of course. What are the latest developments? I know from my mother that the police have left. . .

Obviously they haven't charged you-"

"How could they!" he interrupted heatedly. "I haven't done anything wrong, Paula! I wasn't involved inMin's death-" His voice cracked and there was a pause as he struggled for control. After a moment hespoke more steadily, apologized, "Sorry for breaking down. It's been such a terrible shock. Min and Ihave been having bitter quarrels, and she was being impossible, but I didn't wish anything like this tohappen." He lapsed into silence.

Paula heard his harsh breathing as he tried to compose himself. She said gently, "You must be strong.

We'll get you through this safely, Anthony, I promise." "

Eventually he said, "You've been awfully good, Paula, awfully helpful. Well," he sighed, added wearily, "they've established the time of death. The local doctor did an examination. He thinks it was between ten-thirty and midnight."

Paula's mouth went dry. From what Edwina had! said, Anthony had taken her back to the Do%ver House around nine forty-five, then returned home. To go to bed? If so, it was most unlikely that he had an alibi for his whereabouts during those key hours. But she made no 'comment, not wanting to alarm him further. "Your mother said something about an autopsy."

"Oh yes. I hope that'll be tomorrow. The inquest and coroner's court will be on Wednesday or Thursday.

Everything's so tediously slow here." There was another heavy sigh, then dropping his voice, Anthony confided, "It's that d.a.m.nable Land-Rover. I'm not certain the police believe me-about its breaking down in the afternoon."

"Yes," Paula acknowledged. "But are you sure no one saw the Land-Rover out there in the lateafternoon, when it reallydid break down? Perhaps one of the estate workers? That would prove to the police that you'respeaking the truth."

"No one has come forward, and it's very deserted in that area of the estate-miles away from the house.I doubt anyone was around. However, there has been one positive development. A bit of good news.The police have information that should exonerate me. They've been interviewing everyone here for thepast few hours . . . the staff, the estate workers . . . Bridget, my housekeeper, told them that she saw me in the house between eleven and midnight."

"Why didn't you tell me this before! Then you have an alibi!" Paula was flooded with relief.

"Yes, I do. I only hope the police believe her story."

"Why wouldn't they?" she demanded, tensing.

"Don't misunderstand me, Paula. I've no reason to think they don't believe her, but Bridget has worked at Clonloughlin all of her life. Her mother was the housekeeper here before her, and she and I-well, we sort of grew up together. I'm praying the police don't get the idea she's lying to protect me. Mind you, she's unshakable in her story."

Puzzled, Paula asked nervously, "Why didn't you mention this to the police before? If you were with herlast night after your mother left, surely-"

"I wasn't with her," Anthony interjected. "Actually, I didn't even see her. Bridget suffers from migraines,

and apparently she had one all last evening. She was cleaning the kitchen after dinner when the migraine became unbearable. She pa.s.sed the library on her way upstairs to her room. The light was on, the door was open, and she glanced in, saw me reading. However, she didn't call out to me because of her blinding pain. She ran upstairs, found her pills, and returned to the kitchen. She made herself a pot of tea, rested in the chair for half an hour, finished her work, set the dining room table for breakfast, and just after midnight she went to bed. Again she glanced through the open library door. I was by then working on the estate books, doing the accounting, and, not wishing to disturb me, she simply went on up to bed without even saying good night. It was her day off today and she wasn't here when the police first came."

"Oh Anthony, this is the best news I've heard today!"

"I think it is. Still, she is the only person who saw me during those crucial hours. The two maids who work here had already gone home to the village-they come in daily. So . . . there's no one to corroborate her story, and it's well known around these parts that she's devoted to me and is extraordinarily loyal to our family. The police might-and remember I'm only saying might--doubt her word, think she and I concocted the alibi,"

Paula's heart plummeted, her relief of a moment ago evaporating entirely. "Oh G.o.d, don't say that."

"I have to look at the worst, view this situation objectively," Anthony said. "On the other hand, 1 don't see how the police can dismiss her, say she's lying without being absolutely certain that she is making it up, and I know she'll stick to her guns."

Pulling herself upright in the chair, Paula said slowly, "Yes, that's true. However, when I talk to Henry Rossiter later, about getting legal advice, I'm also going to suggest we retain a criminal lavyyer."

"Hang on a minute!" Anthony -exclaimed. "That's jumping the gun, isn't it?" He sounded aghast at this idea. "1 haven't done anything wrong, I've told you that, Paula. A criminal lawyer. Christ, that's going to make me look as guilty as h.e.l.l."

"Of course it isn't," Paula shot back sternly, determined to stand her ground. "And let's wait to hear what Henry has to say. I trust his judgment, as Grandy has for many years. He 'won't steer us in the wrong direction. Please, Anthony, don't make swift decisions out of hand."

"Very well, get Henry's' opinion," he agreed, although somewhat grudgingly.

After they had concluded their conversation, Paula sat at her desk in the conservatory. She ran a hand through her hair, rubbed her eyes, stretched. Then eyeing the pad in front of her on the desk, she dragged her thoughts back to her list. Three people still had to be called-Jim, Winston, Henry Rossiter. Looking at her watch she saw that it was now seven-thirty. Henry would not be available for another hour at least, and obviously Emily had not had a chance to reach Jim or Winston in Canada, since she was preparing the babies' bottles in the nursery. Paula went to join her there.'

Once they were settled comfortably, each cradling a child, Paula recounted her conversation with Anthony.

Emily listened carefully as she adjusted the feeding bottle,-glancing at Paula several times, nodding her understanding.

"That's the gist of it then . . . Bridget has given Anthony an alibi."

A silence fell between them as they concentrated on the babies. Then very quietly, but in a voice of steel, Paula said, "No grandson of Emma Harte's is going to be in the dock standing trial for murder. I promise you that."

Chapter Twenty-four.

"I hope you really do understand why we had to lie to you, Sally," Paula said gently.

"Yes. And it's just as well that you did." Sally Harte swallowed and cleared her throat nervously. Her voice shook as she added, "I don't think I could have driven over here without having an accident if Emily had told me the truth on the phone."

Paula nodded, continued to survey her cousin intently, filled with anxiousness for her.

For the last fifteen minutes, all through Paula's account of the events in Ireland, Sally had managed to cling to her self-control. Paula admired her for taking the terrible news without flinching. I ought to have known she would be brave, Paula thought. She always was stoical, even as a child. The Harte backbone, her grandmother called it. Yes, despite this extraordinary show of strength, Paula knew Sally was shattered. It showed in her cornflower-blue eyes, now so devastated, and in her lovely face, which was stark with shock.

Sally was holding herself so rigidly in the chair she looked as if she had been paralyzed by Paula's recital, and leaning forward Paula took hold of Sally's hand. She was alarmed at its deathly coldness, said, "Sally, you're frozen! Let me get you a brandy, or make you a cup of tea. You need something to warm you up."