Legacy of Desire (2 page)

It seemed to Davina that now she had noticed the flaw in her work it was obvious in every drawing she’d done, where before she’d been pleased with the work. ‘Why did he have to talk to me about passion?’ she said with a sigh. It had been so unlike him. Even now she
couldn’t understand why he’d felt the necessity to address such a personal matter when their relationship, whilst close, had always been governed by certain unspoken rules, including lack of intrusion into each other’s private lives.

At one o’clock she decided to take a short break and was cutting a slice of cheese in the kitchen when she heard a knock on her front door. She frowned. She never had visitors in the week and couldn’t imagine who it was, unless Clive had some query that he was relaying from the chef. When she opened the front door it wasn’t Clive standing there, but a man she’d never met before. His face was ashen.

‘Are you Davina Fletcher?’ he asked quietly. Davina nodded. ‘My name’s George Middleton. I’m one of your uncle’s friends from the shooting party. I think I’d better come in.’

Puzzled, Davina stood to one side. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I’m afraid there is.’

‘Has there been an accident?’

George nodded. ‘It was so sudden …’ His voice tailed off.

Davina felt fear rise in her throat. ‘What was? Has something happened to my uncle?’ George nodded. ‘Has he been hurt?’

‘It’s worse than that I’m afraid.’

Davina began to tremble. ‘You mean … ?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud.

‘I’m very sorry, Davina, but your uncle’s been killed.’

Davina felt as though she were standing back from the scene, watching herself as her legs crumbled and the stranger helped her into a chair. ‘I’ll get you a glass of water,’ he muttered, hurrying to the kitchen while she remained seated, feeling sick and shaking violently from head to toe. He handed her the water and her teeth chattered against the rim of the glass. ‘How did it happen?’

‘He tripped over a tree root and his gun went off. It killed him instantly. He wouldn’t have known a thing.’

His words conjured up a terrible image of her beloved Uncle David, and suddenly Davina began to cry, terrible tearing sobs that she was totally unable to control. ‘Is there anyone I can ring?’ asked George. ‘A relation, or a boyfriend perhaps?’

Between sobs Davina managed to give him Phil’s
number and then, realising that the main house was now full of guests without a host she looked up at her visitor. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘We’re all at the house. Naturally we’ve called a doctor and an ambulance.’

‘Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.’

‘Are you sure? You don’t look up to it.’

‘I owe it to Uncle David,’ she said simply. ‘Now if you don’t mind I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.’

Later, when she looked back on it all, Davina never knew how she managed to pull herself together sufficiently to go to the main house and mingle with her late uncle’s friends, trying to utter words of comfort and reassurance to people when all she wanted was the same for herself. However, duty and manners had been instilled into her at an early age and she knew that her uncle would have wanted her to do the right thing.

It was only when it was all over, her uncle’s body removed to the morgue and the visitors gone that she allowed herself to break down once more. Clive looked after her until Phil finally arrived, having left his London office the moment he received the telephone call.

‘You look a little better now,’ said Phil encouragingly as Davina listlessly ate a plate of scrambled eggs that he’d prepared for her. ‘Have a glass of red wine, it will bring the colour back into your cheeks.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Davina. ‘I’m pale because Uncle David’s dead. Red wine isn’t going to change that.’

‘Of course not,’ said Phil, and she could tell that he was startled by her unusual sharpness. ‘Just the same, you’ve got to take care of yourself, Davina. After all, everything’s yours now.’

Davina looked at him in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean everything’s mine?’

‘Exactly what I say. The house, the estate, it will all go to you, won’t it?’

‘I’ve never thought about it.’

‘You must have known that it would be yours one day, although naturally you wouldn’t have expected it to be this soon,’ said Phil.

Davina shook her head. ‘I can’t believe we’re talking like this. Uncle David’s been killed and all you’re interested in is what I’m going to gain from it. Is that why you’ve been coming down here every weekend? To
make sure that my future inheritance was being well looked after?’

Phil gave a nervous laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Davina.’

‘But you had thought about it?’

‘Naturally. Anyone could tell that your uncle was grooming you to take over the reins. I half expected him to move abroad in about ten years’ time, especially after he started getting arthritis. He’d have been better off in a warmer climate, and you’d have been here to take care of things for him.’

‘Well, he didn’t live that long, did he,’ said Davina, her eyes filling with tears.

Phil put an arm around her, but despite her need for comfort Davina stiffened beneath his touch. The rather unpleasant and totally unexpected mercenary streak he’d revealed had shaken her to the core.

‘You need to sleep.’ Phil’s voice was soothing. ‘You go on up now and I’ll join you when I’ve tidied things away.’

She was too exhausted by the emotions of the day to argue, but when he finally climbed into bed beside her and she felt him snuggle against her back, his erection
nudging between the cheeks of her bottom, she twisted away from him. ‘How can you, Phil? You can’t imagine that I’m in the mood for sex.’

‘I thought you might like some comfort.’

‘Just hold me,’ she murmured.

‘Sometimes I think that’s all you ever really want,’ muttered Phil.

Davina ignored him. She wondered why it was that tragedy was said to bring out the best in people. It certainly wasn’t bringing out the best in Phil.

The following Wednesday, six days after his death, David Wilson’s funeral was held. It was a beautiful August day and the local church was packed. Davina and Phil travelled alone in the black car that followed the hearse and Davina, dressed in a short-sleeved tailored grey dress and matching jacket, wished that it was all over. Her uncle wouldn’t have wanted her to be so upset, she knew that, but it seemed extraordinary that he should die so suddenly, and so soon after their first truly meaningful conversation. It had etched his words even more firmly on her mind, and she realised that this was partly why she had found Phil so
irritating over the past week. Uncle David had been right – there was no passion between her and Phil, yet she still felt she needed the security he offered.

‘A good turn-out,’ Phil muttered, as he walked down the centre aisle behind the coffin.

Davina thought he was making it sound like a local fête rather than a funeral, but he did have a point. Every pew was full and when she glanced around her she saw familiar faces everywhere, both local people and her uncle’s friends, some of whom had flown in from distant parts of the world. As she took her place in the front right-hand pew she noticed a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties standing at the end of the row opposite. He stood out because, as far as she could tell, he was the only stranger present. In addition, he was very tall and stood extremely straight, while his brown hair was cut surprisingly short. Even at this moment of sorrow Davina noticed how well the hair had been shaped into the nape of his neck, and as she glanced away she felt a strange sensation in her stomach.

The service was excellent, everything Davina had asked for and more, with contributions from longstanding friends. When it was over she and Phil shook
hands with everyone as they left, swapping polite condolences and regrets. ‘How many more?’ asked Phil as people continued to pour out of the church.

‘I don’t know. He had a lot of friends. I think it’s nice,’ said Davina.

‘Well, when they’ve gone remember we’re due back at the main house.’

‘I know, I’ve laid on food for everyone.’

‘And the will’s going to be read,’ Phil reminded her.

The will, Davina thought to herself. It was strange to realise that very soon all this would legally be hers, and even stranger to realise that Phil was more excited about it than she was.

It was early afternoon before the last of the mourners had left the house and Davina and Phil were invited by Mr Morrison, David Wilson’s solicitor, to join him in the study. On entering the room Davina was astonished to see the tall man she’d noticed earlier in church standing by the mantelpiece. Since she was five-foot-ten herself, Davina was very aware of a man’s height. She thought that this man must be at least six-foot-two; he was rangy and strong featured, with an extremely conventional appearance. His suit was impeccably tailored,
his shoes polished so hard that she was certain she’d be able to see her reflection in them, but when he turned to look at her and she smiled in greeting his features remained impassive, leaving her feeling awkward.

‘Davina, do you know Jay Prescott?’ asked Mr Morrison, gesturing towards the stranger.

‘No.’

‘Jay was your uncle’s godson. He’s from Boston, Massachusetts.’

‘I didn’t know my uncle had a godson.’

‘I didn’t know he had a niece,’ said the American. For a few seconds the couple stared at each other and Davina was the first to avert her gaze. He looked like a man who was used to getting his own way and his presence dominated the room.

‘Why is he here?’ Phil whispered in Davina’s ear.

She shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Well, now you’ve been introduced you’d better all sit down,’ said Mr Morrison, looking slightly flustered. ‘Your uncle drew up this will only six months ago. One might almost wonder if he’d had some premonition of this terrible tragedy.’

Davina felt a lump in her throat and swallowed
hard. Perhaps he had had a premonition, she thought; maybe that was why he’d talked to her the way he had. Mr Morrison cleared his throat. ‘The will is extremely straightforward. David has left everything to his godson, Jay.’ Davina heard Phil’s sharp intake of breath but strangely she felt nothing at all upon hearing the words. It was as though her uncle’s death had left her numb, and in any case she’d never thought about owning the house. But there was the cottage, and now her heart began to race as she realised that she would soon be homeless and without her beloved studio.

‘However,’ the solicitor continued, ‘there is a clause in the will stating that “my niece Davina Fletcher must be allowed to stay on in her cottage for as long as she wishes, rent free, in return for carrying out any services that Jay Prescott may require while he is living or staying at the main house”.’

‘What a bloody nerve,’ said Phil, no longer bothering to keep his voice down.

‘Sshh,’ hissed Davina.

‘But you’ve been living here for years!’ exclaimed Phil. ‘We never even knew he had a godson.’

‘It’s none of your business,’ she said. ‘For goodness sake be quiet.’

‘Quite an interesting little clause,’ murmured Jay Prescott.

Davina turned towards him. ‘Excuse me?’

‘The wording of the clause. Didn’t you find it interesting?’

‘Not really. It’s exactly the same terms I had with my uncle.’

‘Surely not.’ For a moment the flicker of a smile lifted the corners of the American’s mouth.

Davina felt confused. ‘Yes it is. I used to do all his secretarial work and act as hostess for him at his parties. Not that I suppose you’ll be living here very much.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because you live in America.’

‘Yeah, but it just so happens that I’m due to spend twelve months in England on an exchange visit. I’m a public prosecutor you see, and I’m coming over here to learn a bit about English law. The house should prove pretty useful to me. I’ll also be entertaining a great deal, and since I’m single I’ll need quite a lotta help in that direction …’

‘That’s lucky,’ said Davina weakly, wondering what on earth had possessed her uncle to hand everything over to a man like this. ‘At least I’ll feel I’m earning my keep.’

‘Believe me, honey, you’ll more than earn your keep. I can think of quite a lotta other services I’ll require from you, but as long as you carry them out in a satisfactory fashion I don’t see any reason why your life should change.’

As he spoke his eyes assessed Davina thoughtfully, and suddenly she realised that while done with the best of intentions, the way her uncle had worded his will might have placed her in a very difficult position.

‘What the hell’s that?’ asked Phil, sitting up in bed and listening intently.

‘I can’t hear anything,’ murmured Davina sleepily.

‘It sounds as though we’re living next to a motorway.’

She propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Oh God, it must be the removal vans. Jay phoned and said they’d be arriving over the weekend. It’s lucky I got the last of Uncle David’s things out of the house yesterday.’

‘You didn’t tell me Jay Prescott had rung you.’ Phil sounded accusing.

‘It didn’t seem important,’ said Davina truthfully. ‘Anyway, you were so late getting here last night we didn’t have time to talk about anything much.’

‘More to the point we didn’t have time to
do
anything much,’ he said, sliding a hand beneath the hem of Davina’s night-dress. ‘Now we’re awake I think we ought to remedy that.’

Davina sighed inwardly. Since her uncle’s death her sex life had taken a turn for the worse. Phil was less thoughtful, and although nothing had been said Davina sensed he was still annoyed that she hadn’t inherited everything. It was as though he was blaming her, which was utterly ridiculous. It was also disconcerting to realise how much he’d counted on her owning the estate one day.

‘I’m not sure I’m in the mood,’ she murmured.

‘Of course you are,’ said Phil, his left hand gripping her right breast and giving her nipple a perfunctory tweak before he slid his body on top of hers. ‘Couldn’t you get a shorter night-dress?’ he complained, as the material caught beneath him.