Kingdom of Shadows (49 page)

He caught her wrists and pulled her to him. The linen sheet fell to the floor and there was nothing between their bodies in the pre-dawn cold of the room.

She struggled to be free of him. ‘But I want to stay! I can fight with you!’ She knew she sounded like a child, pleading. ‘You can’t send me away!’

‘I must, my love.’ He kissed the top of her head gently. ‘I shall send for you when I am crowned. To follow tradition I need your brother, the Earl of Fife, to come from England to place the crown on my head, and I will need you to support him.’

‘Without the Earl of Fife you cannot be king!’ Her eyes were blazing with pride again.

‘Oh, I will be king and with no one’s permission, but I should like to honour the old customs.’ He smiled grimly. ‘The proxy John Balliol used to place him on the throne did not help his cause at all, so I shall insist on a descendant of the house of Duff to do the honours.’ He grinned. ‘And when I am king,’ he kissed her hard on the mouth, ‘no one shall question who I take to my bed. Now, dress. I shall have your escort summoned to take you home to Buchan.’ He was still holding her wrists. ‘That is a command, Isobel.’

Furiously she struggled to be free of him. ‘What if I refuse to go?’

‘Then you will be taken by force.’ He released her abruptly. ‘Please, my love. Do as I ask. We will be together soon, I promise.’ Turning away from her he pulled on his tunic and began to buckle his belt.

She was putting on her pale silk shift when suddenly he caught her in his arms again. ‘You will take care, my love. If there were only a way I could keep you with me, I would –’

‘I know.’ She swallowed her misery as best she could.

‘Don’t provoke your husband, Isobel.’ Suddenly he was terribly afraid for her. ‘Obey him, love. We both know we were betrayed before, and we both know that your maid paid with her life for our moments together at Scone. Remember her –’

Her eyes were on his. ‘I will never forget her.’

He nodded grimly. ‘Then go now. And pray that you haven’t been missed.’

17

Emma answered the door to Henry and ushered him in. ‘It was sweet of you to come. I know this is a bloody thing to ask anyone: to get involved in someone else’s family crisis! But we need advice.’ She pulled him into the sitting room where Peter was sitting reading the paper. The two men greeted one another laconically and Peter moved towards the tray of bottles on the sideboard. At the table in the window Julia was sitting scribbling furiously in an exercise book. Peter glanced at her. ‘That homework won’t be even half legible, you know.’

‘It will, Dad,’ Julia smiled at him impishly. ‘They only gave us a tiny bit because they knew we’d all be going to Guy Fawkes’ parties. Tamsin will be here any minute to collect me. We’re going to the Scotts. Hello Mr Firbank!’ She flashed Henry a smile and went back to her work, a curtain of fair hair falling across her eyes.

Henry grinned. ‘I was hoping I was coming to a fireworks party too!’ he said as he accepted a large gin and tonic from Peter. ‘No sparklers even?’

‘Sparks in plenty,’ Peter replied grimly. ‘Em knows I don’t approve of this. It is none of our business.’

‘What?’ Julia straightened, eight-year-old acuteness sensing a hint of grown-up secrets. She dropped her pen and closed her books. ‘That’s enough. No more silly old maths and geography today. What’s going on? Are we talking about Aunt Clare again?’ She perched on the arm of the sofa next to Henry.

Emma glared at her. ‘Julia, I’ve told you it is rude to interrupt. Now, go and get ready. Tamsin’s father will be here to pick you up any minute.’

‘And for God’s sake be careful of the fireworks.’ Peter turned from the gin bottle. ‘I hope the Scotts are supervising this party properly.’

‘They are. I checked. I would hardly let her go otherwise!’ Emma tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. ‘And Julia’s going back to spend the night with Tamsin afterwards.’ She kissed her daughter on the top of her head. ‘Take your books too, darling. You’ll need them tomorrow for school. And have a super time.’

She smiled at the others distractedly when her daughter was finally ushered out of the front door and into the waiting car beside her best friend, muffled in a coat and scarf, her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. She can’t help overhearing the odd remark.’

‘That child is getting too precocious.’ Peter sat down at last with a sigh in the deep armchair beside the radiator. ‘God! What a bloody day it’s been. The office was bedlam and I’m exhausted and the last thing I need now is a post mortem about my wife’s family.’

Emma looked at Henry and shrugged, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, Henry. What he is trying to say is thank you for coming and how nice it is to see you.’

Henry gave a short laugh. ‘Thanks for the translation. Look, I won’t stay long anyway. We’ve had a bad day too, our side of the Chinese Wall! Paul wasn’t in the office today and the old man was in a foul mood.’

‘Not in?’ Emma frowned. ‘Where was he?’

‘Search me. Nobody knew apparently.’

Glancing at her husband Emma sat down. ‘Well, it’s Paul I want to talk about. We’re all family and you are as good as.’ She leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s for Clare’s sake. We’re worried about her.’

Henry sipped his drink slowly. ‘She seemed all right when I took her out to dinner last night,’ he said cautiously.

‘Really all right?’ Emma sat down next to him.

Henry shrugged. ‘Happy enough. Paul had just given her some beautiful sapphires.’

‘Sapphires!’ Peter stared at him. ‘I thought Paul was supposed to be in money trouble.’

There was a moment’s silence, then Henry sighed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s what I thought too.’

‘She hasn’t changed her mind about Duncairn?’ Emma glanced from her husband to Henry and back. ‘She can’t have done. She wouldn’t!’

‘No, she wouldn’t.’ Henry drained his glass and put it down. He looked at her uncomfortably. ‘But Paul is still very anxious to make her change her mind; or he was last week.’ He wondered for a moment whether to tell them about his visit to Suffolk. After a moment or two he decided not. If Clare had wanted Emma to know, no doubt she would have told her. ‘I don’t know whether he is still of the same mind, but he’s under pressure from two sides to sell. He certainly needs the money, I think we all agree about that, and there is no doubt that he is under a lot of pressure over Duncairn from Cummin at Sigma.’

‘Cummin?’ Emma frowned at the name.

He nodded. ‘Rex Cummin, the President of Sigma UK – the oil conglomerate who want Duncairn.’

Emma stood up abruptly. She had gone white.

‘What is it, Em?’ Peter was looking at her hard. ‘Do you know this man, Cummin?’

Emma poured herself another drink. There was a slight clinking noise as the gin bottle hit the rim of her glass. For a moment she didn’t answer, then she turned and gave him a tight smile.

‘I do know him, yes. The bastard! He is Diane Warboys’s godfather or something. She introduced us because he had a spare ticket for a show I wanted to see when you were away.’ She took a deep, shaky breath. ‘He asked me about Paul and Clare.’ Her voice died away to a whisper. ‘He asked me about them a lot. I thought he was just being friendly.’

There was a long silence.

‘How many times have you seen him?’ Peter spoke at last. He didn’t look at her.

Henry gazed down into his glass, deeply embarrassed.

‘How often, Em?’ Peter repeated quietly.

‘Only three times. For goodness’ sake, Peter, there’s nothing in it. He’s married. We just wanted to go to the same show. We had interests in common. He’s a very cultured man –’

‘Which I’m not, I suppose.’

‘You’re just not very often here, Peter.’

‘I never knew Di was his god daughter,’ Henry put in quietly. ‘I’ve talked to her about Clare and Paul’s problems, I’m afraid. Just a bit. After she and I had dinner there once and things were a bit strained. I had to give her some sort of explanation …’ His voice died away.

‘So between you and my wife,’ Peter said slowly, ‘you have told this man Cummin everything he needs to know. That Paul is desperate for money and that if he puts enough pressure on him Paul is going to find some way of getting Clare to agree to sell Duncairn.’

Emma put her head in her hands. ‘You make Rex sound so ruthless.’

‘He didn’t get to his position in an international oil corporation without being ruthless,’ Henry said gently. ‘He also has a lot of charm.’ He stood up and walked around the room for a minute or two, then he sat down again. ‘Something happened last week. I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t think it was any of my business, but now, well, perhaps you ought to know. Paul tried to trick Clare into signing away everything she owns. He’d had some kind of agreement drawn up giving himself complete control of her affairs.’

Emma’s face tightened in disgust. ‘She didn’t sign it!’

‘She would have.’ Henry looked at them both with concern. ‘If I hadn’t stopped her. She was going through a pile of documents, just signing them. It was I who told her to read them first. Paul obviously knows her well. He’d counted on her not bothering.’

‘Was he furious?’ Emma’s eyes were fixed on his face.

‘I think he was. And what is more, I think she’s a bit afraid of him. She told me that she was thinking of leaving him.’

‘Leaving him?’ Emma echoed. She paused, then after a moment’s thought she shrugged. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. My brother is cold, calculating and sadistic. I know him of old. I don’t really know how she’s stuck it so long.’

‘Oh come on,’ Peter was growing more and more uncomfortable. ‘You’re making him out to be some kind of fiend. He’s not that bad.’

‘He is, believe me. If Clare is defying him, he’s quite likely to get –’ She stopped in mid sentence.

‘To get what?’ Peter gave a scornful laugh. ‘Come on, Em. You’re becoming melodramatic!’

‘Am I?’ Emma stared at her feet. ‘There is a lot at stake. Paul’s future. His job. His reputation if all the rumours are true. His lifestyle. What chance does Clare have against what he’s got to lose? And God help her if he ever found out she was going to leave him. He’d be furious. I think we should warn her just how much pressure he is under. I don’t think she has any idea –’

‘Warn her?’ Peter scoffed. ‘By the way, Clare,’ – he put on a high-pitched singing voice – ‘in case it hasn’t dawned on you by now, I think you should know that your husband might be going to do you in for your money! Don’t tell him you’re leaving him. Take care, never turn your back on him and run at the first opportunity!’

There was a moment’s silence. Henry looked from one to the other. ‘I took her back to his office last night and left her alone with him there. At midnight,’ he said slowly.

Emma stood up. She looked at them both for a moment, then she walked towards the telephone. ‘I’m going to ring Clare,’ she said. ‘I know I’m being melodramatic and I know it’s probably silly, but I’d like to make sure she’s all right.’

The two men watched as she dialled the number.

In the house in Campden Hill the telephone rang on in the silence. The place was empty.

Paul sat down heavily in Geoffrey’s leather arm chair. His face was haggard and he looked ten years older than his brother. ‘I’m glad Chloe’s out. I wanted to talk to you alone. I’ve been walking round all day. Something terrible has happened.’ He flung himself back in the chair and closed his eyes.

Geoffrey eyed him gravely. ‘You’d better tell me.’

Paul nodded. ‘It’s Clare. She needs help, Geoffrey. Real help. Things have got out of hand.’

Geoffrey sat down in his own chair behind the desk and folded his hands on the blotter. He was shocked by his brother’s face. Paul’s exhaustion and distress were obvious.

‘You’d better tell me what has been happening,’ he said slowly.

For a moment Paul did not reply. He stared down at the carpet between his feet, thinking hard. He had to get his story right. ‘Clare is going out of her mind, Geoff,’ he said at last. ‘She has begun hallucinating, accusing me of things.’ He frowned. ‘Threatening to tell people that I’ve tried to harm her, and she’s been doing strange things in the garden. At midnight. Lighting candles in the shelter of the hedge; raising her arms and sort of chanting; invoking spirits.’

Geoffrey was watching him closely. ‘You’ve seen her?’

Paul nodded. ‘I was too far away to hear what she was saying or to see anything.’ He hesitated. ‘If there was anything to see. Is this for real, Geoffrey? Is she really raising the spirits of the dead, or is it all in her mind?’

Geoffrey sighed. ‘I had hoped and prayed that she would stop all this before it went too far. Often people begin these things so innocently: yoga, meditation.’ He frowned. ‘Everyone is being urged to do it. I see it all the time in newspapers and magazines and it fills me with worry. People are being taught without realising it to open themselves up on a spiritual level and in so many cases there is nothing there to fill the space they have created. So then comes the interest in the occult and the dabbling in the black arts. Satan waits and watches all the time, ready. And once he has won someone for himself he won’t give up without a struggle – one hell of a struggle.’ He allowed himself a small wry smile at the pun.

Paul’s expression was grave. ‘What can you do?’

Geoffrey rubbed his face with his hands wearily. ‘I shall talk to her again. And I shall pray for her, of course.’

‘You must be able to do more than that! For heaven’s sake, Geoff! She is irrational; hysterical at times! I think she’s all right, she’s calm and she seems terribly sane, and then suddenly she comes out with something completely mad. Some of the things she says are truly insane, Geoff. She will probably tell you things about me! She thinks I’m trying to harm her! You mustn’t believe anything she tells you –’ Paul was becoming agitated. ‘You know that she has these hallucinations and nightmares, and conjures up this woman from the past. Sarah will back me up. Dear God, Geoffrey! You know I’m not a religious man. I confess I’ve never had any time for your mumbo jumbo up to now, but this is something else. It gives me the creeps. You’ve got to help her.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I think she needs locking up. For her own safety.’