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Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford

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BOOK: The Triumph of Katie Byrne
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‘Yes. That’s one of the reasons I love coming down here to the lake. So many different species of birds settle, if only for a while, on the water. Why, we’ve often seen seagulls flying around, even though the sea is not all that close.’

‘Who built the ornamental lake?’

‘It was the eighteenth-century Leyburns who created what are known as the pleasure gardens here. Adam
Leyburn, and his son, Charles, in particular had the energy, creativity and money to do it, not to mention the time. The entire park looks as it does today because of them and their immense vision. They were rather brilliant when it came to the river, the Skell, which runs through the valley, just beyond those trees. By damming the river at various intervals they created weirs, lakes, stretches that are straight and canal-like in form, and ornamental ponds. Uncle Thomas has always said the park is a triumph of eighteenth-century romantic landscaping. He’s right.’

‘Do you get a lot of visitors?’

‘Oh yes, I’ll say. People come from all over the country and Europe to see the gardens and the park. And I’ll tell you this, Katie, there are some truly spectacular things to see. The rhododendron walk is sheer bliss in summer, and then there are surprise views and vistas, and people do adore the deer park and the animals. The bambi park, some of them call it.’

‘Does it bother you and Verity? Opening the place to the public, I mean?’ Katie glanced at Xenia from the corner of her eye.

‘No, not at all. Firstly, it’s an absolute necessity. We very genuinely need the money that comes from the admissions and the guidebooks we’ve had printed, and which most people buy. And then secondly, I think it’s nice that others can share the beauty of Burton Leyburn, view the gardens, walk through the grounds, and visit
the pleasure gardens in the valley. And they also get a chance to see the treasures inside the house as well.’

Katie nodded, but remained silent. She had always assumed that Xenia was a rich young woman, since she gave off the aura of wealth. But the truth was something different, as she was coming to realize.

Suddenly Xenia swung away from the edge of the ornamental lake, and grabbed Katie’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the house. I don’t know about you, but I’m positively ravenous.’

‘Yes, I am too,’ Katie admitted with a grin.

Chapter Twenty-three

Ten minutes later Xenia was ushering Katie into the front entrance hall and leading her towards the garden room. ‘Breakfast is served in here, as I told you.’ She flung open the door, added, ‘I’ll be down in a few minutes, after I’ve showered and changed. Don’t wait for me. Tuck in immediately.’

‘Thanks, I will,’ Katie replied, walking into the room. She saw that the walls were a soft lime-green, and someone, probably Lavinia she decided, had painted elegant tropical trees on them. The trees were filled with colourful, exotic birds, and the lovely murals helped to give a three-dimensional look to the room. Plants filled the window area, and were also arranged on a long table set against a side wall, hence the name of the room, she supposed.

‘Hi there, Katie!’ Lavinia exclaimed only a moment later, as she came into the room through a swing door. ‘No one else is down yet. I expect they’re ligging in.’

‘Good morning, Lavinia. Xenia’s down. Or rather, she’s been down, and outside for a run, and a walk with me. But
now she’s gone back upstairs to shower and change.’

‘I wish I’d known she was going jogging, I’d have gone with her. And come for a walk with the two of you, if you’d have let me.’

‘Naturally we would…what does that expression mean…
ligging in
?’ Katie inquired, as always fascinated by language.

‘It means lying in bed. It’s old Yorkshire. Jarvis told me it comes from the Vikings, who invaded the north of England centuries ago. That’s why there are so many blue- and green-eyed blonde people around here, don’t you know? Anyway, Jarvis is the expert.’

‘And what am I an expert in?’ Jarvis asked from the doorway.

‘Yorkshire dialect, and old sayings, among many other things.’ Lavinia turned to smile up at him. ‘This is Miss Katie Byrne from America, Jarvis.’

He inclined his head. ‘Good morning, madam.’

‘Good morning, Jarvis,’ Katie said, thinking what a pleasant-looking man he was, with his silver hair and weather-beaten face. He was slim and of medium height, looked to be in his late fifties, perhaps early sixties. As befitting a butler in a house like this, he wore the grey-striped trousers, black jacket, white shirt and grey tie that constituted the standard daytime uniform of the proper English butler.

‘Which would you prefer, Miss Byrne, orange or grapefruit juice? It’s freshly squeezed.’

‘No juice, thanks, Jarvis.’

‘Tea or coffee, madam?’

‘Coffee, please.’

Jarvis nodded, and walked around to the sideboard, where several hotplates held silver chafing dishes; alongside them were an electric coffee maker and a large teapot under a quilted tea cosy.

Lavinia jumped up and went to join him at the sideboard. ‘I think I’m going to have a cooked breakfast this morning, Jarvis. What do you recommend?’

‘You like everything that’s here, Lavinia. There’s fried black pudding, grilled tomatoes, pork sausages, grilled bacon, scrambled eggs, and your two favourites, kippers and finnan haddie. Also, your mother toasted some pikelets.’

‘Oh goodie, Mam’s done us proud.’ Lavinia lifted the lids of various dishes, peering inside.

‘What’s black pudding?’ Katie asked, looking across the table at Jarvis.

‘It’s a Yorkshire delicacy,’ he told her. ‘A blood sausage that’s made by the butcher in Ripon. It can be eaten cold, but Anya usually slices it and fries it with thinly-sliced potatoes. Would you like to try it?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Katie answered. ‘But thanks. I’d prefer a sausage, a piece of bacon, and perhaps a grilled tomato. And toast. Thank you, Jarvis.’

Jarvis picked up the coffee pot and filled a cup, brought it to the table. Katie thanked him again.

Lavinia said, ‘Have some finnan haddie, Katie.’ Then she immediately asked, ‘Do you know what it is?’

‘Not really.’

‘Smoked haddock from Scotland.’ Lavinia put a piece on a plate and brought it to show her. ‘Look, it’s pale yellow, because of the smoking. My mother poaches it in a little milk and then serves it with a pat of butter and parsley on top. Would you like this piece?’ She offered the plate.

Katie shook her head. ‘Thanks, but not really. But you can tell me what a toasted pikelet is.’

Lavinia laughed, and explained, ‘It’s a round flat type of bread with little holes punched in the top, and when it’s toasted and buttered it’s delicious.’

‘Some people call it a crumpet,’ Jarvis volunteered as he arrived at the table with Katie’s plate of food.

‘Thanks,’ Katie said.

‘I understand Lavinia’s going to show you her paintings after breakfast, Miss Byrne. She’s very talented,’ Jarvis murmured, sounding proud.

Lavinia beamed at him from the sideboard, where she was filling her plate.

‘I’m sure she is, Jarvis,’ Katie responded, glancing at the lovely young girl. To Katie, she looked as if she had just stepped out of the sixties this morning, wearing a red plaid shirt, blue jeans, white socks and loafers. She had tied a white silk kerchief around her neck and wore gold hoop earrings.

Before she could stop herself, Katie said, ‘You look very Audrey Hepburn-ish this morning, Lavinia.’

Lavinia smiled with obvious pleasure, preening slightly.

Jarvis said, ‘Oh please, Miss Byrne, don’t tell her that. It always goes to her head when the resemblance is remarked upon, which seems to be rather frequently these days.’

‘Morning, Jarvis,’ Xenia said from the doorway and walked into the room. She had changed into a yellow twin set and beige trousers, looked scrubbed and freshfaced, with her hair tied back in a black silk bow.

‘Good morning, Miss Xenia,’ Jarvis said. ‘What would you like to have?’

‘Just a slice of toast, please, Jarvis. Oh, and you can add a sausage. And tea, of course. Thanks.’

Turning to Katie, Xenia went on, ‘I have to rush. Verity’s already in the office, and the accountant’s arriving within minutes. I’ll be busy with them all morning, apparently. So I do hope you’ll be all right…’

‘Of course I will. Don’t worry about me.’

‘Lavinia will look after you, won’t you, ducks?’

‘I’m going to show Katie my paintings in the studio, Xenia. And we can go for a walk, there’s lots to do.’ Lavinia gazed across at Katie and asked, ‘Do you ride?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Katie answered. ‘I’m a bit timid around horses.’

‘We have a lovely old mare called Jess, you could try
her.
She’s very friendly and docile,’ Lavinia murmured.

Katie merely smiled.

Xenia said, ‘Now, Lavinia, don’t press Katie, she obviously doesn’t want to go riding.’

Jarvis interrupted. ‘Lavinia, will you do the honours? Help Miss Byrne to anything else she wants.’ He turned to Xenia, and added, ‘I’m afraid I have to go over to the packing barn. I’ve got a crew coming from the village in a few minutes. Four lads are going to help wrap packages. So if you’ll excuse me, Miss Xenia…’

‘No problem, Jarvis. And I have to leave myself in a moment.’ As she spoke she gulped down the last of her tea, and rose. ‘See you later,’ she said, squeezing Katie’s shoulder before she hurried to the door.

Katie nodded.

Jarvis departed also, and Lavinia refilled Katie’s cup with coffee, and then, a moment later, the swing door opened and Anya came into the garden room.

‘Oh Katie, you haven’t officially met my mother!’ Lavinia exclaimed, jumping up.

‘Mam, this is Miss Byrne from New York.’

Anya came forward, her hand outstretched, a smile spreading across her face. ‘Good morning, Miss Byrne. I hope you enjoyed your breakfast.’

‘Good morning, Anya, and yes, I did, it was delicious,’ Katie answered, standing, shaking her hand.

Anya went over to the sideboard and began to look in all of the dishes. ‘Such a lot of food left over,’ she
muttered, clucking to herself. ‘Oh well, never mind. Pell and Jamie are always ready for a snack, such big appetites they have, and Pomeroy just came up to the kitchen for his morning sandwich. Plenty here for them, and some left over. Oh dear, I made too much again.’

‘Don’t worry, Mam, Jarvis told us there’s a crew coming up from the village to wrap packages,’ Lavinia said. ‘They’ll make inroads on the rest of the breakfast, given half a chance.’

‘Yes, that’s a good idea, I’ll make sandwiches for them.’ Anya swung around, murmured, ‘I do hate to waste food when half the world’s starving.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Katie nodded in agreement.

‘I must be getting along,’ Anya announced. ‘I’m in the middle of preparing the vegetables for lunch.’ As she spoke she picked up two of the chafing dishes and carried them out.

When they were alone, Katie said, ‘Your mother must have lived here a very long time. In England, I mean.’

‘She has. But why do you say that, Katie?’

‘Her English is perfect.’

‘Oh, but she came here as a child. To London. She was born in Paris. You see, my grandparents were Russian but lived in France, because of the Revolution. Then they came to England. My mother married a Yorkshireman, David Keene, from Burton Leyburn. He brought her back to live in the village twenty-five years ago. I was
born here, you know. My father died when he was only thirty, of a heart attack. I was just three.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Katie responded. ‘He was very young, wasn’t he? How awful for you and your mother.’

‘It was, but Mam’s strong. A survivor, that’s what she calls herself. She’s been working here at the hall for nineteen years. And she loves it, loves to cook. She believes that’s the secret of her success, loving what she does, wanting to make delicious food for people to eat. It’s important to love your work, don’t you think?’

Katie nodded. ‘Yes, it is, Lavinia. I love acting, always have, and I know Xenia loves running Celebrations, creating those wonderful parties of hers.’

‘Yes, I know she does. She’s asked me to draw some interiors for her this weekend, of the Winter Palace in St Petersburg at the turn of the century. They’re for a party in New York at the end of the year. I’ll enjoy doing the drawings.’

‘Do you know what the Winter Palace looked like at the time of the Tsars?’

‘Oh, yes, we’ve got some really fantastic picture books in the library. They belong to Xenia, her father gave them to her.’ She smiled, and stood up. ‘It’s good research material. Anyway, shall we go, Katie? I’ve got the old landrover outside in the stable yard.’

Katie also stood up, and glanced down at her oatmeal wood trousers and fisherman’s sweater. ‘I’m sure I don’t need a coat, I didn’t earlier.’

‘Oh no, it’s warming up even more. Even though Pell said there was going to be a cold snap, he’s sometimes wrong.’

The landrover turned out to be the English equivalent of a station wagon, and it was somewhat old and dilapidated. But with Lavinia at the wheel it shot up the dirt road at full speed, behaving just like a modern sports car.

‘The barn’s not far, just beyond the woods,’ Lavinia explained, handling the car expertly as she went up the rutted track. ‘It’s near the Home Farm. That’s where we live. Dad runs it, well, he’s my stepfather, but he’s always treated me like his own. And he’s looked after Mam and me very well. He sent me to Leeds College of Art.’

‘Oh, so you studied up here in Yorkshire, not in London.’

‘That’s right. It’s a good college, and anyway, I didn’t want to go and live in London. I love it here.’

‘That’s not surprising, Lavinia. Yorkshire’s beautiful, and the hall is something else, out of this world.’

‘Thanks to Verity!’ Lavinia exclaimed. ‘She’s the one who keeps everything running smoothly. Dad says she’s a really good administrator.’

‘And she’s obviously very enterprising.’

‘Oh yes, and a clever businesswoman.’ Lavinia looked at Katie quickly, then brought her eyes back to the dirt track she was driving along. ‘The Earl sort of…gave
up when Tim and Justin were killed. His son and heir, and his grandson and heir, both of them gone just like that…in the blink of an eye. It was a terrible shock. Mam says he’s never really recovered, and that’s why he finds it hard to live here now.’

‘I understand,’ Katie murmured quietly, imagining the Earl’s overwhelming grief. ‘And who will inherit the title and the estate?’ she then wondered out loud.

‘Verity’s son, Stephen. When his grandfather dies, Stephen will become the Earl of Burton Leyburn. Right now he’s studying at Cambridge.’

‘I see.’ Katie leaned back against the worn leather seat, thinking about the family’s sorrow. It was so hard to come to grips with sudden and unexpected death, especially when it was touched with violence. She knew that only too well. It struck her now that Xenia had made a wonderful recovery. She functioned very well, and if, at times, she appeared sad and morose it was understandable. But for the most part, Xenia was fully in control of herself. Five years was not very long to come to grips with the loss of a husband and a child.

Katie looked at the passing landscape. The long fields gave way to woods filled with great old trees, and beyond were more fields cut into a patchwork design by the low, drystone walls. As she peered ahead Katie soon saw the beginning of a huge stretch of farmland, and a farmhouse and out-buildings were just visible in the distance. Wide pastures surrounded the farmhouse,
and in one of them a herd of Guernsey cows grazed lazily in the bright October sunlight. A white horse and its foal were gambolling together in another pasture, and helped to complete what was a truly pastoral scene, Katie thought.

Ten minutes later, Lavinia was turning onto a wide road that ran behind the farmhouse up towards the moors etched against the pale-blue sky. Straight ahead of them, at the foot of the moorland, was a barn.

‘That’s it, my studio!’

Katie walked with Lavinia towards the barn, and she couldn’t help thinking of that other barn, far away in Connecticut. She felt a sudden, involuntary shiver pass through her. Troubling memories, forever fresh, flashed before her eyes, and she quickly pushed them to one side. But thankfully that other barn no longer existed; after Denise’s murder Ted Matthews had torn it down and flattened the ground where it stood. However, it still existed in Katie’s mind, and she knew it always would.

BOOK: The Triumph of Katie Byrne
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