Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 9

"Oh, Blackie, that's such a lovely thing to say, and thank you for my beautiful ring." She caught his hand and held on to it and pressed it tightly and looked up at him again; then she smiled that incomparable smile that filled her face with radiance. "My dear old friend, you're so very, very special to me," she said.

"As you are to me, my Emma."

He stepped away from her chair as if heading to his own, and then he paused and swung his white head. "I hope you're going to wear the ring," he remarked offhandedly, but his glance remained riveted intently on hers. "I sincerely hope you're not going to put it away in that safe of yours."

"Certainly not. How could you think such a thing. I'm never going to take it off... ever again."

He touched her shoulder and returned to his seat, smiling to himself. "I'm glad I gave you your ring, me darlin. I've thought about doing so many times, and I've often wondered what you'd say. I know I'm always accusing you of being a sentimentalist in your old age, but I do believe I've become a sentimental old man myself."

"And tell me, Blackie O'Neill, what's, wrong with sentiment? It's a pity there isn't more of it in this world," she said, her eyes unexpectedly moist. "It might be a better place to live in, for one thing.'

"Aye," was all he said.

After a short while Blackie cleared his throat and remarked, "Now, what about that little proposition of mine, Emma? This morning you said you were doubtful that it would work, but I can't agree."

"Do you know," she exclaimed brightly in an enthusiastic voice, "I was thinking about it again this afternoon. Emily's moved in with me, and it suddenly struck me that the only way I'll get a bit of peace and quiet is to accept your generous invitation."

"Then you'll come with me! Ah, me darlin', this news warms the c.o.c.kles of me heart, sure an' it does." He beamed at her, happiness and excitement welling inside him. He lifted his brandy balloon high. "Come along, take a sip of your Bonnie Prince Charlie, Emma. This calls for a toast, it does indeed."

She held up her hand instead. "Wait a minute! I didn't actually say yes. I can't accept-at least not just yet. I am seriously thinking about the trip, but you'll have to give me a few more weeks to settle things, to adjust to the idea of being absent for several months."

Biting down on his disappointment, he said, "All right, I'll be patient. However, I will have to start making the arrangements soon, so please don't delay your answer for too long."

"I'll let you know as quickly as possible. I promise."

He sipped his cognac, savoring it, and slowly a sly gleam entered his eyes. He was wrapped in thought for a minute or two longer and said finally, "By the way, Emma, I've recently . made a plan, as no doubt you II be surprised to hear. I think of it as my Plan with a capital P, since it happens to be the first plan I've ever made." He was unable, to contain himself and let out a throaty chortle, and his eyes became merry and teasing. "Do you remember that first plan of yours?"

"Goodness me, I'd forgotten all about that.'

"I never did. And I even recall the day you confided it in me. Such a small slip of a thing you were, too, and I was most impressed. Anyway, if you've got a few minutes, I'd like to tell you about mine. It's a most marvelous plan, me darlin', even though I say so myself. And I'll bet my last quid it's going to intrigue you, sure an' I know it will."

Amus.e.m.e.nt touched her mouth. "I'd love to hear about your plan, Blackie dear."

He sat back expansively, nodding to himself, and began, "Well, it's like this. There is this woman I know, and she's the most stubborn creature I've met in all my bom days. It just so happens that this stubborn, contrary, maddening, but quite adorable woman has a grandson living in Australia. I know she wants to go and see him, and I thought it would be a wonderful treat for her if I took her out there to see him myself. And so I've made a very special plan, and this is how it goes ..."

Emily had fallen asleep on one of the huge sofas in the upstairs parlor.

To Emma, standing over her, she looked small and defenseless and innocent, wrapped in a white toweling robe and curled up in a ball against the pile of cushions. A feeling of infinite tenderness swept through Emma. She bent down and gently moved a strand of pale blond hair away from Emily's eyes and brushed her lips against the girl's smooth young cheek. She straightened up, wondering whether to awaken her or not, decided to get ready for bed herself first, and tiptoed into the adjoining bedroom.

Emma hung up her sable jacket, took off her pearl choker and matching earrings, and placed them on the dressing table. After removing her watch and the McGill emerald, she started to pull on Blackie's ring, then stopped and looked down at it. This ring had lain in a vault waiting for her for fifty years, and she had promised Blackie she would never take it off. She pushed the ring back on her finger, next to Paul's platinum wedding band, and finished undressing. She had just put on her nightgown when there was a tap on the door and Emily's smiling face appeared around it.

"There you are, Grandy. I waited up for you."

"So I noticed, darling. But you didn't have to, you know."

"I wanted to, Gran. But to be honest, I didn't think you'd be as late as this. It's turned twelve-thirty!"

"I'm well aware of the time, Emily. And look here, if you're going to live with me, you mustn't start monitoring my comings and goings. And I don't need mothering either. I get enough of that from Paula at the store," Emma remarked evenly, putting on her silk dressing gown and knotting the belt.

Emily giggled and skipped into the room, obviously wide awake and full of her usual joie de vivre. "It's not role reversal, if that's what .you're thinking. I'm not trying to mother you. I was merely commenting on the time." '

"Just bear in mind what I said."

"I will, Grandma." Emily hovered near the dressing table. She saw the jewelry strewn across it and her eyes darted to Emma's hand. She noticed the diamond at once, which shone with brilliance in the bright light from the lamps. "Aren't you going to show me Blackie's ring?" she asked.

Emma s brows shot up. "And how did you know about the ring?" The words had no sooner left her mouth than she wondered why she had even bothered to ask Emily, of all people, such a question.

"Merry and I were Blackie's conspirators," Emily explained. "About two weeks ago he asked her to ask me to,check your ring size. He thought your fingers might have shrunk."

"Did he indeed! I'll have to have a few strong words with him tomorrow. Does he think I've turned into a shriveled-up old crone," Emma exclaimed pithily.

Emily could not keep the laughter out of her voice as she said, "n.o.body would think that about you, Gran, least of all Blackie. You're still beautiful."

No, I'm not. I am an old woman, Emma stated flatly. "But thank you for being nice, Emily. Of course," she added with a laugh, "everyone knows you're prejudiced." She held out her left hand. "Well, how do you like it?"

Emily took hold of Emma's hand, her bright green eyes huge and as round as saucers, her excitement apparent on her expressive, mobile face. "Gosh, Gran, I'd no idea it was going to be so big and such a beauty! It's fabulous!" She scrutinized the ring more closely and, with an expert's eye, lifted her head and nodded knowingly. "It's a perfect diamond, Gran. I bet it cost a fortune .'. ." Her voice trailed off and she hesitated, then asked in an uncertain tone, "Does this mean you and Blackie are going to get married?"

Emma burst out laughing and extracted her hand. "Of course not, you silly goose. Whatever will you think of next." She touched Emily's face lovingly, "You're such a romantic girl," she murmured, sighing softly. "No, it wouldn't be appropriate. Not at our ages. As Blackie said, we're engaged to be the best of friends for the rest of our lives." Emma now became aware of the undisguised curiosity and interest lingering on Emily's face, and before she could stop herself, she said, "I'll tell you the story about the ring, if you like."

"Oh yes, I'd love to hear it, Grandy'. Let's go to the parlor, though. I have a thermos of hot chocolate waiting for you. Come along." She took hold of her grandmother's arm possessively and shepherded her next door, not realizing she was fussing and bustling like a mother hen. Emma merely smiled and allowed herself to be bullied, secretly amused.

After filling two mugs with chocolate and giving one to Emma, Emily curled up on the sofa she had so recently vacated, tucked her feet under her, and gleefully snuggled down into the cushions. Lifting her mug, she took a sip and cried with delight, 'This is such fun, it's like being back at boarding school and having midnight feasts."

Emma's mouth twitched. "Don't get carried away, Emily," she laughed. "We won't be doing this every night. I'm usually in bed by this time. And talking of bed, it's getting very late. I-'d better tell you the story quickly so that we can go to sleep. We have a hectic day tomorrow.'

"Yes, Gran." Emily gave her grandmother her rapt attention.

When the old story'was finally told, Emily said, "Oh Grandma, that's so lovely and.touching and a little^sad in a way. And imagine him keeping the ring all these years. Gosh, that's real devotion." A wistful look swept across her delicately pretty face and she shook her head. "And you're skeptical about unrequited love! This should prove you're absolutely wrong."

Emma smiled indulgently, made no comment.

Brightening, Emily rushed on in her breathy voice, "Just think, if you'd married Blackie instead of Awful Arthur all those years ago, your children would have been very different- it's all a matter of genes, you know. I wonder if the oldies would have been any nicer?" Emily tilted her head and pursed her lips, lost in thought, her mind racing. Several things occurred to her all at once, and she burst out, "What about your grandchildren? Paula, for instance. And me. Goodness, Grandy, I might not have been me at all. I could have been someone altogether different-"

Emma cut in, "But I would have loved you just as much, Emily, and Paula too."

"Oh yes, of course you would, I know that. But your family would nave been very-" "Now you're speculating about things we'll never know. And it's all much too complicated for me, especially at this hour," Emma said with a dismissive yet kindly smile. "But speaking of my family, what happened here this evening? How was the dinner party?"

Instantly Emily's face underwent a change, became serious as she sat up abruptly, swung her feet to the floor, and leaned closer to Emma. Her manner was confiding as she said, "You're not going to believe this, but Edwina's behavior was quite extraordinary-"

"In what way?" Emma asked sharply, dreading the worst.

Seeing the apprehensive expression settling on her grandmother's face, Emily shook her head with some vehemence. "Don't look like that. It was all right. Edwina was nice ... so nice I couldn't get over it, and neither could Paula. The Dowager Countess was charm personified. Well, that's not strictly true." Emily made a motie. "You know I have a tendency to exaggerate." Emily wrinkled her nose, went on, "She was sort of. . . cautious with Paula and me. She doesn't really like us. She was polite, though, and pleasant to everyone else. I can't imagine what you said to her earlier, Grandma, but it certainly had a drastic effect on her." Emily searched Emma's face and probed, "You must have given her an awful lecture. You did, didn't you?" A blond brow lifted quizzically.

Emma said nothing.

Emily volunteered, "I think Aunt Edwina had been crying before she came down for drinks. Her eyes were puffy and red, and so was her nose. She didn't want a drink. She asked me for aspirins and a gla.s.s of water. We'd only been alone together for a couple of minutes when Paula and Jim arrived with Aunt Daisy and Uncle David. Edwina attached herself to Daisy immediately-it's funny, she seems to have a thing about Daisy. Anyway she didn't say much to anyone else, not even Jim, during c.o.c.ktails." Emily's shoulders hunched in a small offhanded shrug. "1 thought she seemed ever so subdued, and she was certainly abstemious. You know how incorrigible she and Mummy are, always tippling. They never know when they've had enough. Edwina didn't touch a drop all night though, not even wine with dinner." Flopping back against the cushions, regarding Emma more closely, she pressed, "What actually did you say to her, Gran?"

"Now, Emily, don't be so nosy. That's a private matter between Edwina and me. Anyway it's not important. What matters is that my words penetrated. Perhaps I drilled some sense into her after all."

"Oh I'm sure that's true," Emily agreed. "And there's something else-you'll never guess what she did before we went in to dinner."

"No, I'm certain I won't. So you might as well tell me, Emily."

"She asked Aunt Daisy if she could invite Anthony over for coffee later and then went to telephone him at Uncle Randolph's."

Emma stiffened and asked with a frown, "Did he come?"

"Oh yes." Emily grinned. "With cousin Sally. Oh, Gran, they're so much in love and super together."

"Sally came with him! How did Edwina treat her?"

"With cordiality. My eyes were popping, I can tell you that, and I wouldn't have missed that little scene for all the tea in China. 'Course Edwina was falling all over Anthony. She was a bit too obsequious, if you ask me-you know, Uriah Heepish-but then she's always fawned over her son." She gave Emma a huge smile and finished, "In a nutsh.e.l.l, Grandma, the dinner was a roaring success."

Emma was flabbergasted and temporarily rendered speechless. "Well," she said at last, "this is one for the books. I never expected Edwina to do such a volte-face." Privately she congratulated herself. Her dire warnings had frightened Edwina into behaving like a normal person seemingly. This is a major victory, she thought, and hoped that her daughter would not have a change of heart. Edwina was unpredictable. There was no telling what she might do in a moment of Eique. Now, don't go begging for trouble, Emma cautioned erself. Relax.

Smiling brightly, filled with an enormous sense of relief, Emma propelled herself to her feet. "On that rather surprising but pleasant note, I think I'll get off to bed, darling girl." She leaned over and kissed Emily. "It looks as if everyone is going to behave with decorum tomorrow. Well, let's hope so. Goodnight, Emily."

Emily rose and hugged her tightly. "I do love you so much, Gran. And goodnight, sleep tight." She picked up the tray. "I suppose I'd better do the same. I've got to collect the twins from Harrogate College tomorrow, and I've thousands of other ch.o.r.es." She sucked in her breath. "Phew!" she exhaled, "1 never seem to have a minute to spare."

Emma swallowed a smile and disappeared into her bedroom before Emily decided to regale her with those ch.o.r.es she had planned for the following morning.

"Oh, Grandy," Emily called after her, "I'm glad you're not upset about the Aire Communications deal collapsing."

Emma came back to the doorway. "I'd venture to say that it's their loss, our gain."

"Yes, so Paula indicated when she mentioned it earlier." Emily glided to the door and muttered with a degree of terseness, "Sebastian Cross is simply dreadful. I thought Jonathan might make headway with him. Apparently he didn't, and if Jonathan couldn't succeed, then n.o.body could."

Emma stood perfectly still and said with the utmost care, "What are you chattering on about, Emily?"

Emily stopped in her tracks, swung to face Emma. "The Aire deal. You asked Jonathan to talk to Sebastian, didn't your.."

"No," Emma replied in the quietest of voices.

"Oh," Emily said, looking confused.

"What makes you think I propelled Jonathan into those particular negotiations?" As she spoke, Emma steadied herself against the door jamb, her astute eyes glinting darkly as they rested with fixity on her grandchild. All of her senses were alerted, and she remarked tersely, "Obviously something."

"Well, yes," Emily began and scowled. "On Tuesday, when I had dinner with Daddy in London, I saw the two of them in the bar of Les Amba.s.sadeurs when we were leaving. We'd had an early dinner, you see, and Daddy was in a frightful stew about being late for a business meeting. He was in such a hurry I didn't get a chance to go over and speak to Jonathan."

"I see." Emma was thoughtful for a moment, asked, "Why did you suggest Jonathan would be able to influence young Cross?"

"Because of their old friendship . . . they were at Eton together. But then you know that, Gran. You once took me there with you when you went to visit Jonathan at half-term. Don't you remember?"

Yes. Naturally I also remember that Jonathan went to Eton. What I hadn't realized was that Cross was a pupil there as well or that Jonathan and he had been friends in those days. I had-"

"I think they're still friends actually," Emily interrupted.

This bit of information chilled Emma to the bone, but she attempted a smile. "He probably wanted to surprise me. He might have realized the negotiations were going to be touchy and was endeavoring to smooth the way for Paula," she said, trying to convince herself this was the truth. But her intuition told her it was not. Emma gripped the door jamb more tightly, and, adopting a.meticulously casual tone, asked, "Did Jonathan see you in Les Amba.s.sadeurs, .Emily?"

Emily shook her head. "He was in deep conversation with Cross." She pondered, asked swiftly, "Why? Is it important?"

"Not really. Did you mention this to Paula?"

"I didn't get an opportunity. She had just started to tell me about the Aire fiasco, as she called it, and Cross being horrid to her, when Hilda announced dinner." Emily bit her inner lip, frowning, beginning to wonder precisely what her grandmother was leading up to with her questions.

Emma nodded as though to herself, then remarked in that same lightly casual voice, "I'd prefer you not to say anything about this to Paula. I wouldn't want her to think he was interfering, queering her pitch. Unintentionally of course. And don't bother to bring it up with Jonathan either. I'll talk to him, find out what his aim was, if indeed he had an aim. It might have been a strictly social evening, you know, in view of their friendship."

"Yes, Grandy, whatever you say."

Emily stood rooted to the spot, studying her grandmother closely, filling with alarm. Emma's face had paled as they had been talking, and she noticed that the happy light in her eyes had fled. They were uncommonly dull, lifeless for once. Emily put down the tray hurriedly and flew across the room. She grasped Emma's arm, exclaimed with concern, "Are you all right, Gran darling?"

Emma made no response. Her mind was working with that razorsharp precision and vivid intelligence which were so integral to her great genius. a.s.sessing and a.n.a.lyzing with her rare brand of shrewdness and perception, she suddenly saw things with a clarity, that shocked. For a split second she recoiled from the truth. I'm making a.s.sumptions, she thought, but then her ingrained pragmatism reminded her that she was rarely wrong. The truth was staring her in the face.

Becoming conscious of Emily's hand clutching her arm, her worry and anxiousness apparent, Emma dragged herself out of her disturbing thoughts. She patted the girl's hand, brought a smile to her face that was convincing, rea.s.suring in its cert.i.tude. ' "I'm just tired," Emma said in a contained voice and smiled again. But she felt as though something cold had touched her heart.

Chapter Ten.

The medieval church at the top of the hill in Fairley village was filled to capacity, almost bursting at the seams.

Family and friends occupied the front pews, and the villagers were crowded in closely behind, for they had turned out in full force to honor Emma Harte at the baptism of her great-grandchildren. And after the ceremony they would troop across the road to the parish hall to partake of the special celebration tea, which Emma had instructed Alexander to arrange.

All was peace and serenity within the ancient gray stone walls. Sunshine pouring in through the stained gla.s.s windows threw rainbow arcs of dancing, jeweled light across the somber stone floor and the dark wood pews. Ma.s.ses of spring flowers were banked around the altar and on the altar steps. The mingled scents of hyacinths, narcissus, freesia, imported mimosa, and lilac filled the air, diminishing the peculiar musty smell of mildew and dust and old wood that was so prevalent in the church. It was the odor of antiquity, one that-Emma had detested since childhood, and she had automatically chosen the most fragrant of flowers for this occasion in an attempt to counteract it.

She sat in the front pew, proud and dignified, wearing a midnight-blue wool-crepe dress and loose matching coat. A small velvet beret of the same deep blue was perched at a jaunty angle on her immaculate silver hair, and she wore the McGill emeralds and a long rope of matchless pearls. Blackie was seated to her left, handsome in a dark suit, whilst Daisy sat with her husband, David Amory, to Emma's right. Ed-wina was wedged in between David and Sarah Lowther, her posture rigid, her expression rather prim, as usual.

Emma had been somewhat taken aback to find Sarah standing on the porch steps when they had arrived. No one had expected to see her, since she was supposed to have a bad cold. They had spoken briefly at the back of the church before taking their seats, and Emma had been immediately struck by her granddaughter's healthy appearance. In her opinion Sarah had either made a miraculous recovery overnight or had not been sick in the first place. It was more than likely she had toyed with the idea of not coming in order to avoid Shane. Emma could not hold that against her. She understood, had a good idea how Sarah probably felt. But, she thought, I'll say this for Sarah. She's a cool customer. Sarah had not blinked an eyelash nor displayed the slightest sign of self-consciousness when Shane had greeted them earlier.

Now Emma sneaked a look at him.

He was sitting with his parents in a pew across the nave, his face in profile. Suddenly, as if he knew he was being observed, he turned his head slightly to the right and caught Emma's eye, half smiled, and then gave her a conspiratorial wink. Emma returned his smile, swung her eyes back to the altar.

Paula and Jim were standing at the carved stone font which dated back to 1574, surrounded by the G.o.dparents of their children, totaling six in all. The vicar, the Reverend Geoffrey Huntley, having christened the boy Lome McGill Harte Fairley, was now preparing to baptize the girl, who was to be named Tessa. Like her twin, she'would bear the same additional middle names.

Emily, one of Tessa's G.o.dmothers, was holding the baby in her arms, and -standing on Emma's left were Anthony and Vivienne Harte, who were the other G.o.dparents. Vivienne's elder sister, Sally, was G.o.dmother to Lome and cradled him, flanked on either side by his G.o.dfathers," Alexander and Winston.

What an attractive group of young people they are, Emma said inwardly, her eyes lighting up with pleasure, and she saw in her mind for a brief instant their antecedents . . . her own parents, her brother Winston, Arthur Ainsley, Paul McGill, Adele and Adam Fairley. How miraculous it was that she and Blackie were still alive and were able to be here today to witness this event, to share in the joyfulness of the occasion.

She shifted her eyes to Paula and Jim.

They do look well together, she thought. He, so tall and broad and fair, the living emlwdiment of his great-grandfather Adam; Paula, so slender and willowy and dark, so dramatic-looking with her vivid McGill coloring. And Paula's inbred elegance was most apparent in the way she held herself and in her clothes. She had chosen a tailored wool suit of a deep violet tone and wore it with a lighter-colored violet satin blouse and a satin pillbox of the same tone. The violet echoed her eyes. She's still too thin, Emma thought, but she has such an extraordinary radiance this afternoon.

Her love for her granddaughter and her pride in the girl, were emotions most paramount in Emma at this moment, and her face relaxed into softer lines as she continued to regard Paula. The young woman standing up there at the font had given her nothing but happiness and comfort since the day she had been born, in much the same way that her mother, Daisy, had done and continued to do.