Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (61 page)

‘It was not until she told me later that she was quite sure
Meridian
had saved Jay’s life and that she didn’t think that
Little Women
would have done the same job, that I felt confident enough to move forwards and write the sequel. I tell you that story because it illustrates Barty so well: she never became so very different from that little girl; she remained a quite extraordinary person: clever; clear-sighted; brave; kind; steadfast; loyal; and very, very honest.

‘This is a dreadfully sad day for us all, and for Jenna in particular; but she should take comfort in knowing that her mother has handed on to her a most precious birthright – that of her own character. Indeed, I know of no one who disliked Barty, no one who was afraid of her, no one who did not admire her, no one, indeed, who had anything but good to say of her.

‘She was, quite simply, unique: we were privileged to have known and loved her; and Jenna should be very proud of being her daughter.’

He finished, then took his place in the pew opposite Jenna, and smiled at her gently, before sitting with his head bowed. Izzie, realising that he was weeping, slid her hand into his; she was crying herself. She glanced anxiously across at Jenna, who was biting her lip, fighting back her tears, but managing nonetheless to sing the last hymn, chosen this time by Billy and Joan, ‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind’, before breaking down completely and burying her face against Celia. And Celia, who had always prided herself on her self-control, who had never wept publicly, not at her mother’s funeral, not at her sister-in-law’s, not even at Oliver’s, put her arms around Jenna and bent her head over her, her own tears falling on the lovely red-gold hair.

Charlie had been very good from the beginning. He had arrived looking perfectly dreadful. Jenna and Cathy, accompanied by Izzie, met him at Heathrow and took him back to Cheyne Walk where Celia received him graciously, giving no inkling that she knew the reason for Barty’s sudden return to New York. It had, of course, occurred to her, as it had to Sebastian, that Charlie was, indirectly, responsible for Barty’s death; she could tell by his embarrassment, his patent misery, that he felt it too.

She warmed to him that evening; he said very little, made an effort to talk and then fell awkwardly silent. Dinner was an uncomfortable meal; the girls were both tearful, Celia exhausted, Izzie subdued; only Lord Arden talked, bland, easy nothingness, about the weather, the shocking fact that not only non-hereditary peers but also women were being admitted to the House of Lords, about Lord Altrincham’s outrageous criticism of the monarchy, about Prince Charles becoming Prince of Wales; no one was interested in what he was saying, no one even properly listened, but they were deeply grateful for it, releasing them as it did from making any effort themselves.

Next day, Charlie appeared at breakfast, looking very pale, and asked Jenna if she would like to talk; she said she would. She was touched by his obvious misery; in a strange way it helped. Here was the one other person to whom her mother’s death was of immediate importance; everyone else, however sad, had their own lives, but Charlie’s life, like hers, would never be the same again.

He told her how much he had loved her mother, how happy she had made him, how much Cathy loved her too. ‘It wasn’t easy, what she did, taking us both on, but she managed it. She managed most things, I guess.’

‘Yes,’ said Jenna, ‘she was pretty special.’

He asked her, almost nervously it seemed, if she had any idea why Barty had flown back early; Jenna said it was because of work.

‘She said there were problems in the office; I hate that office,’ she said heavily, in a foretaste of the anger that was to come.

Anger which had poisoned everything for her for weeks, months even, had made ordinary activities almost impossible, friendship difficult, schoolwork unthinkable, even the fondest memories unhappy. She went over and over the events, savagely questioning her mother’s need to leave without them, her insistence on putting her work first, her failure even to discuss with Jenna whether she minded, whether she would like to go too.

‘She should have thought of me,’ she would say, her small face ugly with grief when anyone – usually Charlie – tried to remonstrate with her, comfort her. ‘She should have thought that I would be alone, that I would need her. She just went off without me, how could she do that?’

She was angry with Lyttons too, for the claims it had made on her mother, angry with the family for encouraging her to fly back alone.

‘I expect they thought things might go wrong for them, if she had stayed, not sorted things out. They might have lost their precious jobs, they all depended on her, you know.’

And angry with herself, for not insisting that she went with Barty on the flight; she was told repeatedly by Celia, by Sebastian, that there had been no room, and reminded by Joan that she had said she was perfectly happy at the farm, but she said Barty should have waited until there was room. ‘She shouldn’t have risked it. I’d rather have died with her, much, much rather. I hate everything, hate it all.’

Charlie asked her what she would like to do, whether she wanted to stay in England, with Celia or the Millers; she shook her head.

‘No, I want to go home. I want to go back to our home, mine and my mother’s. Especially to South Lodge. She wouldn’t have wanted me to live here, I know. Not even with Billy and Joan. And my father was American, he wouldn’t have wanted it either. And besides,’ she said to Charlie, with a rather feeble smile, ‘I want to be with you. We can comfort each other.’

And so they left, a week after the memorial service, when time began to drag and they had too little to do except to grieve. Charlie, obviously happy at Jenna’s desire to stay with him, given confidence by it, relaxed, visited everyone in the family in turn, thanking them for their support, assuring them he would take great care of Jenna.

‘And I have no doubt he will,’ said Celia to Venetia, ‘there is no doubt that, for all his faults, he is genuinely fond of the child and she of him. I’ve been very impressed with the way he handles those girls. Really, they could both be his, there’s no favouritism of any kind.’

‘Well, it’s no different from you and Barty,’ Venetia said, slightly coolly. ‘I don’t remember you favouring us against her, rather the opposite.’

Celia said nothing; she was less inclined to argue these days, conserving her strength for more important things.

One of which, of course, and the one which was worrying all of them, with increasing urgency each day, was the future of Lyttons, without Barty; and in particular the future of Lyttons London.

CHAPTER 32

It was shocking, really, how swiftly grief became greed, Jay thought, as he sat in the boardroom at Lyttons listening to them all, Celia, Venetia, Giles, and himself to be sure, he could not excuse himself from this, discussing what could be done, what must be done.

Only two weeks ago, they had all been weeping in that little church, their hearts wrung with a sorrow which had been entirely genuine, over the loss of someone most dearly loved; now they were squabbling – and that could be the only word for it – over how they might benefit from that loss.

Celia thought they should try to buy back the entire company. ‘It’s ours by right anyway, it wouldn’t exist without us.’

Giles said that was financially impossible. ‘It would ruin us. We could never fund such a loan, it would run into many millions.’ Venetia said they should re-acquire Lyttons London in its entirety: ‘cheaper, simpler, more feasible’.

Jay said that, as far as he could see, they could do that: ‘it’s in the articles of association, it was agreed we have an option to buy the shares in the event of Barty’s death or resignation as a director . . .’

‘Well, clearly that is what we must do,’ said Celia, ‘it seems perfectly simple to me.’

‘Apart from raising the money,’ said Giles.

‘I really can’t see any problem with that. Any merchant bank would advance us the money for such a purpose.’

‘Possibly.’

‘Oh Giles, why do you have to be so negative about everything?’

‘Not negative, mother, realistic.’

‘Giles,’ said Celia, ‘this is a very important and successful publishing house. I would say, personally, that it’s more unrealistic to assume we won’t be able to raise the money. If you can’t even recognise that fact, then perhaps I had better do the negotiations myself. If—’

‘Look,’ said Jay, slightly wearily, ‘this discussion really is a bit premature. We should be talking to Harold Charteris about what we ought to be doing before we get too excited about raising the money. Who do you suppose the shares go to otherwise? Since Barty owned them personally?’

‘Jenna, presumably,’ said Giles. ‘Into her trust fund.’

‘Do we have any idea what was in the will?’

‘None. Presumably there was one.’

‘Of course there would have been,’ said Celia, ‘Barty was far too efficient, far too aware of Jenna’s vulnerability to leave anything to chance. Believe me, every end will have been tied up, every t dotted. I mean crossed.’

She sighed. She was far from herself, Jay thought, she looked exhausted and her cough was very bad. She looked really old today, every moment of her age. How old was she now? She was blurring the edges of the years rather cleverly. She and Oliver had been married in 1904; she must be in her seventies.

‘I think one of us should go to New York. Have a meeting with the board there,’ she said. ‘We’re in limbo, we don’t know who is supposed to be controlling Lyttons. For God’s sake, this is a substantial company, it must be properly run. For all we know, that fool of a husband of hers will have a say in things in future.’

‘Please God not,’ said Venetia, ‘is that actually a possibility?’

‘I don’t believe so,’ said Celia. ‘She would never have entrusted him with Lyttons. The only thing that might have happened is that she failed to make a new will when they were married. Which, again, is extremely unlikely.’

‘What difference would that make?’

‘A one hundred per cent difference,’ said Giles. ‘Remarriage negates an existing will. She would, in the eyes of the law, have died intestate. Which would mean, I think, in law, that half of her estate would go to her husband and half to Jenna. And that would include Lyttons.’

‘God,’ said Venetia, ‘what an appalling thought. How can we find out?’

‘We’ll know soon enough,’ said Celia. ‘Charles Patterson certainly won’t waste any time coming over here, claiming editorial control, if he thinks he can get it. He told me several times how much he would like to be involved, that he was hoping that he and Barty might be able to work together one day. I agree, Venetia, it is an appalling thought. I really think I should speak to someone over there. Jamie Elliott, he’s one of Jenna’s trustees. He’d probably tell me.’

‘Or Kyle Brewer,’ said Venetia, ‘what about him? He’s a trustee as well.’

‘I would prefer not to get involved with that family,’ said Celia coldly, ‘they’re a very – tricky bunch.’

‘Mummy, the Brewers aren’t tricky,’ said Venetia, ‘they’re really very nice, and Felicity’s lovely. You know Daddy thought a lot of her.’

‘Indeed?’ said Celia. ‘I’m afraid I never realised that. A very silly woman, in my opinion. No, I shall speak to Jamie Elliott. He’s a charming man, and most attractive. If Laurence was anything like him, I can quite understand why Barty fell for him.’

‘Whatever’s happened,’ said Giles, ‘it will take months. All those things, waiting for probate, getting the company valued, nothing will be settled for some time.’

‘Yes, but we still need to know,’ said Venetia, ‘and we also need to know what we’re all supposed to be doing. On a day-to-day basis, that is.’

‘Carrying on as usual, obviously,’ said Celia. ‘I certainly have no intention of running to New York every time a publishing decision is called for. Barty trusted our judgement and interfered very little. I see no reason to suppose that will have to change. It would be outrageous if it did. Now if you will excuse me, I shall go and place a call to Jamie Elliott straight away.’

While she was in her office, composing herself (for she was still prone to absolutely unexpected waves of grief, stealing up on her), her secretary came in.

‘Claridges Hotel phoned this morning, Lady Celia.’

‘Yes? What on earth did they want?’

‘Apparently, Miss Miller left a small jewellery box behind when she checked out. In the hotel safe. They’ve been trying to contact her—’

‘Well how absolutely absurd,’ said Celia, ‘surely they realise – oh well, perhaps they don’t.’

‘They wondered if they could send it over to you, Lady Celia. Clearly they can’t keep it there.’

‘Yes, yes, of course. Tell them to send it to Cheyne Walk. I’ll keep it for – oh dear.’ The tears welled up again, pain caught her throat. ‘So sorry, Patricia.’

‘That’s all right, Lady Celia, I understand. Shall I get you a cup of tea perhaps—’

‘No, no, I’ve drunk far too much tea already today. Just put in a call to New York, would you? To Mr James Elliott, you have the number. And come and fetch me from the boardroom when you have him on the line.’ ‘Yes, Lady Celia.’

Jamie was politely unhelpful; he was unable to tell her anything yet.

‘The contents of the will are not yet available, Lady Arden, even to the trustees. What’s more, that could be some time ahead. Probate has to be granted, and as you know—’

‘Yes, yes, I realise that. But are you at least able to assure us that there is a will?’

He hesitated. ‘I am not able to tell you that at the moment, Lady Arden. As soon as we have formal notification, then I will pass it on.’

She sighed. ‘Mr Elliott, you take my meaning, I am sure. I refer to a valid will, post-dating Barty’s marriage.’

‘I do take your meaning, Lady Arden, of course. But at the present time, I cannot answer that question. I’m so sorry.’

‘It could make a great difference to us, you see.’

‘I do see. And to others, I assure you.’

‘Well – as long as you do let us know. As soon as possible. And perhaps we should be there when the will is read.’

‘I’m sure that would be possible. In any case, all beneficiaries will be notified and invited to attend the lawyers’ offices. But I do assure you, if you are unable to come, I will acquaint you with every detail relating to you.’

‘Clearly a great deal will relate to us,’ said Celia. ‘Barty was part of this family and the major shareholder in Lyttons London.’

‘Of course. And if there is any news, I will let you have it, naturally.’

‘Thank you. I – don’t know how much you saw of Barty,’ she added, ‘quite a lot, I imagine. I’m sure, like us, you are still very shocked.’

‘Very shocked, Lady Arden, yes. It was – is a dreadful loss. Can I assure you that Jenna will be in very good hands here; we will all do our very best to take care of her.’

‘I know you will. And – one has to say, she is clearly very fond of Mr Patterson and he of her.’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Of course. But if the need arises, then there are several people in New York able to – ’ his voice shook briefly, he was clearly upset, ‘ – to love and care for her.’

‘Thank you, Mr Elliott. That is very good to know.’

Giles and Jay both felt there was nothing to be gained by going to see the New York lawyers or even the board of trustees in the immediate future.

‘It would be a complete waste of time,’ said Jay, ‘but – my God, it will be a relief to know everything’s in order. Imagine if we were at the beck and call of that idiot.’

He had taken against Charlie to a surprising degree.

‘He’s genuinely distressed, and it’s very sweet that he and Jenna love each other so much,’ he said to Tory. ‘But he does stick in my craw. He obviously sees himself as a great corporate brain.’

‘Well, I like him,’ she said firmly, ‘and I think he’s very attractive. I’m not surprised Barty married him. He’s wonderful with the children. I really can’t think there’s much harm in him.’

‘Or much good either,’ said Jay gloomily.

For four days more they agonised at the prospect of being under Charlie Patterson’s control.

‘If it happened,’ Giles said to Jay, ‘he’d be here all the time, telling us what to publish, what to buy, interfering in everything. He’s that kind of man, a busybody, it would be quite ghastly.’

Celia went so far as to say she would resign if it happened; Venetia looked at her coolly.

‘It’s all right for you, Mummy, you’re going to be retiring again in the foreseeable future anyway—’

‘I don’t quite see why you should think that.’

‘Oh, all right. Let’s say by the time you’re eighty, then.’

‘You know I never think age is relevant.’

‘Mummy, stop arguing for arguing’s sake. You know perfectly well what I mean. Some of us have rather longer ahead of us here than you do. People like Keir and Elspeth have a lifetime. Oh, it’s unthinkable. Barty can’t have been that foolish, she can’t.’

‘I’m sure she hasn’t,’ said Celia, ‘she has Jenna to think of.’ And wished she believed it.

They felt guilt about their unease as well; that they should be so concerned for themselves, for their own future. And added to that a certain unspoken hope that perhaps Barty might have given them back something of Lyttons, that she might have seen her death as an opportunity to return the company into its rightful ownership.

They all had trouble sleeping over the next few days.

So did Charlie Patterson.

Barty had ceased to discuss financial matters with him, except on the most domestic level and insofar as they affected his company. He had no idea what her plans might have been for him; her rage and misery had been so great during those last few days before she went to London, he would not have been surprised if she had completely cut him out of her will.

Of course she would not have expected it to be relevant for a long time; but she was immensely efficient, and she was given to acting with great decisiveness. He might even find himself no longer Jenna’s guardian. Anything was possible.

Barty had said very little on the subject of her discovery about Meg; she had taken herself off to South Lodge as she always did in times of trouble, and when she had returned, had simply refused to discuss it. Even when they all left for England, she had merely said goodbye and given him a brief hug, for the girls’ sake. And that was the last he had had of her. Ever.

Grief had not quite turned to greed for Charlie Patterson; but greed was certainly beginning to assert itself.