Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 47

Within minutes Jonathan was turning into the gates of Pennistone Royal. As he parked he noticed'the long lineup of cars, and realized that they were probably the last to arrive. Secretly laughing up his sleeve at Sarah's gullibility, he nevertheless managed to keep his face straight as he helped her out of the car, ran around to the trunk to collect their gifts for their grandmother.

Puffed up with self-congratulation at his adroit handling of his cousin, he put his hand under her elbow, arranged a suitably insouciant smile, and escorted her inside.

Joe, the houseman, was on duty, and he wished them a happy Christmas as he took their coats. They returned his greeting. Jonathan's sharp, ever-quick eyes.darted around as he and Sarah went down the short flight of steps leading into the Stone Hall. The party was in full swing. Everyone was present. The air was filled with the sound of Christmas music playing on the stereo, and the high-pitched buzz of chatter'. intermingled with bursts of jolly laughter. The fire roared, the giant tree blazed with lights, and the familiar faces which turned to greet them were ringed with happy smiles.

Jonathan smiled back, nodded, but did not stop. He propelled Sarah on a steady course down the hall. He saw Paula sitting on the arm of Blackie's chair, talking to the old man very earnestly, her face tender. If I exaggerated Rodney's story to goad Sarah, I know I wasn't far off the mark, Jonathan commented silently. I bet Shane O'Neill has got her where he wants her. In his bed. Good old-Rodney. I owe him one.

Now Jonathan noticed Jim, trapped in the wheelchair talking to Anthony. They had a strong look of each other. Fairley blood, he thought. He felt the sardonic laughter rising in his throat, almost choking him. He swallowed, made sure his charming smile was intact. As soon as Jim's alone, I'll go over and talk to him, sow a few seeds of doubt in his mind about that holier-than-thou wife of his. In the meantime, I'd better find the old dragon, go over and genuflect.

Jonathan's predictions to Sarah to the contrary, there were no dramas at Pennistone Royal that evening.

Emma's traditional Christmas Eve party progressed without a hitch. However, Emily's comment about Edwina's being shocked to death when she saw the diamond necklace proved to be no exaggeration.

After the buffet supper had been served and eaten, and before the carol singing began, Emma distributed her generous tokens of her affection to her family and friends. They were thrilled and touched by their presents, recognizing the amount of time she had spent in selecting something extra-special for each of them. Even the malcontents were pleased- Jonathan. with his gold-and-jade cuff links, Sarah with the pearl-and-jade necklace she had received.

But it was Edwina who was genuinely stunned, momentarily rendered speechless as she gaped in amazement at the Fairley necklace. Observing her closely, Emma thought her daughter was indeed going to keel over from a heart attack. Instead, Edwina collapsed in floods of tears.

After she had composed herself, Edwina began to realize that the Fairley heirloom she had been given was a gesture of * unselfish love, that of a mother for a daughter, and she was more than thankful she had made the initial move to end her estrangement from her mother earlier. She remained at Emma's side for the rest of the evening.

The happy mood prevailed until midnight. Only Paula felt out of it at times, when her thoughts turned to Shane. She was attentive to Jim and his needs, and chatted with everyone, but she constantly found herself gravitating to the O'Neills, needing to be in the midst of Shane's family. Somehow it seemed to bring him closer.

Next year, she kept thinking. Next year. We'll be together next year.

Chapter Thirty-nine.

It was a rainy night in the middle of January.

Jim Fairley sat in the Peach Drawing Room, sipping a straight vodka, gazing at his favorite painting, the Sisley he loved so much and longed to possess for himself. So rapt was he'in his contemplation of it, he did not realize that Emma had appeared in the doorway of her drawing room.

She stood observing him closely.

Her worry about Jim was increasing daily, and she could not help thinking now that she was watching the slow but steady disintegration of a man. He had changed so radically during her absence abroad and over the last six weeks, he was hardly recognizable as the personable young editor she had first employed. She had tried to .talk to him, but her words seemed to flow over him, leaving him untouched. He continued on his downward slide.

He was drinking steadily. Ever since she had chastised him about this a few days after Christmas he had endeavored to conceal his tippling. Still, she-was aware he was consuming great quant.i.ties of liquor-day and night.

She thought of his family. Every single one of the Fairleys had been drinkers. His great-grandmother Adele had fallen down the staircase at Fairley Hall in a drunken stupor, breaking her neck. The shattered winegla.s.s had been scattered around her body, on that dreadful morning when Annie, the maid, had found her.

Emma frowned to herself. She wondered if alcoholism was congenital. Jim was not yet an alcoholic, but she was convinced he was well on the way to becoming one. And then there were the painkillers. He had not really persuaded her he had stopped taking pills. And yet she could not for the life of her imagine where he was getting them from. Continuing to study his face in profile, thinking how good-looking he was despite the ravages of drink, medication, and his physical pain, a phrase Blackie had used recently leapt into her mind.

They had been at Allington Hall stables, looking over his string of racehorses. "The breeding's there, but no stamina," Blackie had said, referring to one of his thoroughbreds. An appropriate a.n.a.logy, Emma mused. Loath though she was to condemn Jim, it was apparent to her that he was weak, lacked strength of character. But had she not always suspected this?

Emma cleared her throat, said in a cheerful voice, "Good evening, Jim." She walked into the room purposefully.

She had startled him. He swung his head quickly. He gave her a half smile. "I wondered where you were," he exclaimed, forcing a conviviality he did not feel. "I didn't wait .for you but I hope you don't mind." He glanced at the drink. 'This is my first today, Grandy."

That's a downright lie, she thought. She said, "I was delayed on the telephone, but now I'll join you in a c.o.c.ktail before dinner."

Pouring herself a gla.s.s of white wine, Emma continued,' "I was just speaking to Daisy. She rang from Chamonix. They're so sorry you're not with them. David misses you on the slopes." She brought her drink and sat down near the fire. "Daisy's not much of a skier, as you know, and David is feeling lonely without you, his boon companion. Well, never mind, you'll be able to go with them next year, Jim."

"I sincerely hope so." He moved his broken shoulder slightly, gave her a quirky little smile. "It's a relief to have this in a sling, I can tell you that, and Doctor Hedley's going to take the cast off my leg tomorrow."

She knew all about this but faked surprise, not wanting him to know she was constantly consulting with the family doctor about him. "That's wonderful news. You must start therapy immediately, get those muscles in shape again."

"Try and stop me." He gave her a long, careful look. "Did Paula call you from New York today?"

Emma's eyes flickered. "No, she didn't, but I wasn't expecting to hear from her. Surely she told you last night, when she called, that she was flying to Texas today. Sitex business, you know."

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten."

Emma wondered if he really had, but let the comment pa.s.s. "Emily just told me that Winston's coming to dinner after all. That'll be nice for you, Jim-a little male company should cheer you up. It must be very boring for you- surrounded by women."

He laughed. "You're all very attentive, but it'll be nice to see Winston, hear what's happening in the outside world. I feel so cut off, and weary of this inactivity. I hope I can get back to the paper in a couple of weeks. What do you think?"

It struck Emma that this would be a wise move, and she said swiftly, "I'm all for it. I've always found that work is a wonderful cure for what ails me."

Jim cleared his throat. 'Talking of the newspapers, Emma, there's something I've been meaning to ask you for the longest time."

"Oh, and what's that, Jim?"

He hesitated briefly, then said in a low voice, "When I came back from Canada in September, Paula and I had a bit of a quarrel about Sam Fellowes, and the instructions she had given him in my absence, you know, about suppressing the stories dealing with Min's death."

"Yes, she mentioned something about it-her decision, not your quarrel." Emma gave him a questioning look.

"Paula told me that she has your power of attorney, and Winston's, to act on your behalf or his, if the need comes up."

"That's quite true."

"I couldn't help wondering why you didn't give those powers of attorney to me?"

Emma sat very still, was silent for a second, and said gently, "Jim, when you resigned as managing director of the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company you forfeited your right to any power in that company, other than the editorial power you have as managing editor, of course. Since you said you were not interested in the administrative side of the newspapers, it seemed patently obvious to me that those powers of attorney had to rest in the hands of someone who was ready, willing, and able to act, to take tharge, if the situation arose-administratively take control, I mean."

"I see."

Watching him closely, she saw his face stiffen in annoyance, his eyes cloud over with resentment. "You did resign of your own accord, Jim," she remarked evenly, in that same gentle voice.

"1 know." He took a long swallow of the vodka, placed the drink on the end table, stared into the fire. Finally he swung his eyes to hers. "Paula is also the trustee of my children's shares in the newspaper company, isn't she?"

"She is."

"Why, Grandy? Why didn't you make me the trustee for them? I am their father, after all."

"It's not as simple as it seems, Jim. The shares which I am leaving to Lome and Tessa are not in a separate trust but in their overall trust fund, into which I have placed many other shares from my different holdings. It seems clear to me that such a giant trust must be managed by one person. It would be ridiculous to have a number of different trusts, have each one handled by a different individual. Far too confusing."

He nodded, made no comment.

Emma gave him a discerning look, recognizing that he was not only put out, but furious, even though he was doing his best to conceal this emotion from her. Whilst she knew she had no obligation to explain her actions to anyone, she nevertheless wanted to make him feel better about himself.

She said, "My decision to appoint Paula is no reflection on you, or your ability. She-and she alone-would be the trustee of her children's trust fund whomever she was married to, Tim."

"I understand," he murmured, although deep down he did not. He felt he had been pa.s.sed over. But then he had no one to blame but himself. He suddenly realized he should never have resigned as managing director of the newspaper company.

Ignoring his moody expression, his angry silence, Emma remarked, "If Emily and Winston have children before I die, and if 1 created a trust fund for their offsprings, which of course I would, -Winston will be in the same position as you are. So would Sarah's husband, should she marry whilst I'm still alive. I'm not singling you out."

"I said I understand, ana I do, Emma. Thanks for explaining things to me. I appreciate-"

There was a tap on the door, and Hilda came in, said, "Excuse me, Mrs. Harte, but Mr. O'Neill is on the phone. He said that if you're busy you can ring him back. He's at Mr. Bryan's, in Wetherby. '

"Thank you, Hilda, I'll take it." She rose, smiled at Jim. "Excuse me, dear, I won't be a moment."

He nodded, and the minute he was alone he trundled himself over to the Regency sideboard and filled hisgla.s.s with vodka, plopped in ice. He put the drink in his left hand, which peeped out from the sling, then pushed hischair back to the fireplace with his right.

He drank half of the vodka quickly, so that Emma would not know he had refilled his gla.s.s, then sat pondering herwords. Suddenly everything was clear to him. Emma was placing all of her power in the hands of her grandchildren.She was ensuring it stayed within the family. And absolutely so. He had thought he was family. He was an outsider, after all.

Sighing, he lifted his eyes to the Sisley. The painting had always had a hypnotic effect on him. Again, he wished it washis, as he always did when he gazed on it. He wondered what exactly it was about this particular landscape that soenthralled him. There were other Sisleys in the room, and Monets. All were worth millions.

Suddenly, and with a small stab of acute horror, Jim understood. This painting represented wealth and power to him.That was the reason he coveted it-the real reason. That the Sisley was heart-stopping, lyrical, a great piece of artwhich appealed to his sensibilities more than the others, was beside the point. His hand trembled and he put the drinkon the table, closed his eyes, blocking out the painting.

I want the money. I want the power. I want it all back . . . all that my great-grandfather and my greal-uncle so foolishlysquandered or lost, and which Emma Harte took from the Fairleys. Instantly Jim was appalled at these thoughts and athimself. I've had too much to drink. I'm getting maudlin. No, I'm not. I've not had that much vodka today. I've been verycareful about my intake.

The trembling seemed to seize his whole body, and he opened his eyes, gripped the sides of his wheelchair to steadyhimself. The image of Paula flashed through his mind. He had married her because he was madly in love with her. Hehad. He knew he had. No. There was another reason. He had wanted her because she was Emma Harte'sgranddaughter. Wrong again. Because she was Emma Harte's princ.i.p.al heir to her vast fortune.

For a split second James Arthur Fairley saw himself as he truly was. It was his epiphany. And he did not like what hesaw in that intense flash of clarity. It was the truth. He did love his wife, but he craved her money and her power. He groaned aloud and his eyes filled. This sudden self-revelation was insupportable. He was not the man he had believed himself to be all of his life. His grandfather had brought him up to be a gentleman, to look to the higher things in life, to be unconcerned about material wealth and position. Edwin Fairley had brainwashed him. Yet secretly he had always longed for the power, the glory, and the riches. There was a dichotomy in his nature. That was the true cause of his internal strife. I've deluded myself for years, he thought. I've lived a lie.

He groaned again and ran his hand through his hair. I love Paula for herself, I really do.

The nagging pain in his shoulder intruded, and so insistently he winced in agony. It was the rainy weather. His shoulder was like a barometer. He groped around in his pocket for a pill, washed it down with vodka.

"Blackie's so excited," Emma said from the doorway, hurrying in, laughing gaily. "He's making such elaborate plans for the Grand National. He's taking all of us to Aintree for the steeplechase. It's the first Sat.u.r.day in April." Emma sat down, took a sip of her wine. "And so you'll be able to come with us, Jim. You'll be as fit as a fiddle by then."

Chapter Forty.

"What are we going to do, Shane?" Paula stared at him, her expression troubled.

"We're going to take this one step at a time, get through each day as best we can," he said confidently. He gave her one of his rea.s.suring smiles. "And we're going to make it."

They sat in her office in the Leeds store. It was an afternoon in the middle of April of 1970. Shane had just returned from a quick trip to Spain, where he had been to supervise the remodeling currently in progress at their Marbella hotel.

Now he edged closer to her on the sofa, put his arm around her, held her tightly in his arms, "Try not to worry so much, darling."

"I can't help it. The situation hasn't improved-it's just worsened. And everything's dragging on interminably. I'm beginning to think I'll never be free of my problems."

"Yes, you will." Moving away, he lifted her face, looked deeply into her eyes. "We've both got innumerable business pressures right now, a load of responsibilities, and we're just going to have to concentrate on those, keep ourselves busy, knowing that ultimately we'll be together. And when we are, it will be for always. Think of the future, Paula, keep your eyes trained on that."

"I try, I do try, Shane, but . . ," Her voice wavered and stopped. Her eyes filled up.

"Hey, come on, love," he said, "no tears. We've got to keep moving ahead, and purposefully so. I keep telling you, time is on our side. We're both young, and we are going to win in the end."

"Yes." She brushed her eyes with her fingertips, forced a more cheerful expression onto her face. "It's just that-oh, Shane, I miss you so much."

"I know, I know, and I miss you too. It's sheer h.e.l.l being apart. But look here, I would have to go to New York next week, and then on to Sydney for two months, even if your situation was straightened out. There's no way I can change those circ.u.mstances. And it's not been so bad, has it? We were together in New York for part of January and we've managed to grab some time together these past few weeks. So . . ."

"I can't help feeling that it's not fair to you. I'm keeping you dangling and . . ."

His laughter obliterated her words. "I love you, and only you. I'll wait for you, Paula." He hugged her fiercely. "What kind of a man do you think I am, you silly, silly girl. None of this is your fault. It's beyond your control. Life intrudes,, that can't be helped. We're just going to have to battle it through."

"I'm sorry, Shane. I am being mournful today, aren't I? Perhaps that's because you'll be leaving in a few days. I feel so desperately alone when you're not in England."

"But you're not alone, Paula. You have me, my love and my support-always. I carry you in my heart wherever I go, and you're never out of my thoughts, not for a single moment. We talk on the telephone practically every day, and if you need me urgently I'll come to you as fast as I can. You know I'd be on the first plane out, whether I'm in Australia or the States." He gazed at her, his black eyes quizzical all of a sudden. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, of course I do."

"Remember what I said to you in Barbados?"

"That I must trust your love for me."

'That's right. As I trust yours for me. Now, are you going to change your mind and come to dinner at Beck House tonight? It II do you good, and Emily was so disappointed when you declined her invitation."

"Perhaps I will, after all." Paula frowned. "Do you think she and Winston suspect anything about us?"

"No way. They believe we've .become good friends again, and that,s all."

Paula was not entirely convinced he was correct. However, she had no wish to implant troublesome ideas in his mind, and she said, "I couldn't get there until eight. I want to go home to see Tessa and Lome, and then I have to go to the nursing home to see Jim."

"I understand."

"You really do, don't you, Shane?"

"Of course, and I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Paula. You're far too good and too compa.s.sionate a woman to turn your back on Jim at a time like this. You said over lunch that he was a bit better. What's the general prognosis?"

"The doctor told me yesterday that he could be out of the nursing home in a few weeks, he continues to improve the way hehas. He's not as depressed as he was and he's responding well to treatment, to the psychiatric help." She shook her head and her worry flared up in her. "But you never know with a nervous breakdown. I mean, some people recover quickly, others take months, and it's not unusual for a person to have relapses." She hesitated, murmured in a low, almost inaudible tone, "I can't bring myself to say anything to him just yet-about my freedom."

"I'm aware of that, you don't have to keep repeating yourself," Shane said rapidly, but with gentleness. "We agreed that we must wait until Jim's back to normal, truly capable of handling things, before you tell him you want a divorce. I'm not reneging on our agreement. What else can we do? I'd like to be able to live with myself in the future, and I know you would too."

"Yes. Oh, Shane, thank you, thank you so much for your understanding, and most of all for your love. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He took her in his arms and kissed her, and they sat holding each other for a few minutes. Finally he released her. "I've got to get back to the office. I've a couple of meetings scheduled, and with Dad in London at the international hotel conference I've got my hands full. Then I want to stop off and see Grandpops on my way home to Beck House."