Promise Made (19 page)

‘Oh, Vane,' Emily said and her throat felt constricted with emotion. ‘I am not sure that I deserve such kindness.'

‘Oh yes,' he said and smiled at her. ‘I am perfectly certain that you do, Emily. I know what kind of a man my son was – and I regret the pain he must have caused you. But I cannot regret that he brought you into our lives. I think the past few years would have been rather empty had you not been a part of our family, my dear – and you know that I love Robert dearly?'

‘Yes, I do,' Emily agreed. ‘He loves you too, but you know that, of course. I think Amelia will be here in a moment. Please be gentle with her, Vane. It may have been as much my fault as hers . . .'

She left the room, going upstairs just as Amelia came through the hall and entered the parlour. It felt as if a huge weight had lifted from her shoulders. Vane had always known the truth, but he wanted Robert to be his heir. She didn't have to feel guilty and she could stay on, just as the last few guests at the convalescent home were going to be allowed to stay on for as long as they needed a place to live.

Somehow she felt better about Amelia. Now that Vane knew the truth she wouldn't feel constantly threatened. Amelia might still try to take over, but that wouldn't matter now. And Emily would try to be more tolerant in her turn. It was best if they could all be friends and live together in harmony.

Frances glanced nervously at the clock. She was expecting Sam to call at any moment, and she was torn between excitement and terror, because she knew that what she was planning was dangerous. Sam wouldn't like what she had to say to him, but she was determined that he wasn't going to get away with his nasty little secret any longer. She was pretty certain that it was the discovery that his father was the owner of flats that were used for prostitution, which had driven Marcus to the edge, making his drinking worse. And there was what Sam had done to her. He had to pay for that!

She had sent Charlie off for the afternoon. One of his friends from the nursery school that he was now attending two mornings a week was having a birthday party. Muriel had taken him for her, and Frances would collect him later – after she had spoken to Sam.

She tensed as she heard his car draw up outside, her nails curling into the palms of her hands. Taking a deep breath, she went to answer the door, giving him a cool nod as she asked him inside. She walked through to the formal drawing room, her back very straight, and then she turned to look at him.

‘No, please don't sit down, Sam,' she said. ‘I didn't ask you here for tea. I have something to say to you, and then I want you to leave.'

Sam's eyes narrowed warily, remembering the last time he was here. He had made a stupid mistake that day. He wasn't sure what was coming now. Frances had never been exactly welcoming, but now she was angry – aggressive in a way he'd never known her to be previously.

‘What is wrong?' he asked. ‘Something on your mind, Frannie? You're not still upset because of my little bit of fun?'

‘My name is Frances. I would be grateful if you would remember it, please.' She lifted her head proudly. ‘And no, it isn't just that you tried to rape me two days before my husband's funeral, though that was bad enough. On my way home from Emily's I stopped off in London. I went to look at that apartment building . . . the one that you gave half of to Marcus . . . the one where all the prostitutes live.'

‘That's nothing to do with me, Frances,' Sam said, his eyes narrowing. ‘An agent lets it for me. I didn't know anything about it until recently, and I'm planning to move them all out soon. I may sell it if I can.'

‘Don't lie to me, Sam,' Frances said, her expression one of disgust and dislike. ‘I spoke to one of the girls. She wanted to know if I was looking for a room and a job – and she mentioned you by name. Apparently, you take forty per cent of their earnings as well as the rent.'

‘That's a lie!' Sam growled and glared at her. ‘It's only that bitch's word against mine – and who would believe a whore?'

‘I would,' Frances said. ‘Perhaps I couldn't prove it in court, but a few whispers here and there and you might find yourself getting some odd looks. A letter to the local newspaper might spark an investigation that the police would be interested in – and you would certainly be asked to resign from the parish council.'

‘You witch!' Sam muttered and moved closer, a threatening look in his eyes. ‘What do you want to keep your mouth shut?'

‘I think my share of that building is probably worth ten thousand pounds. I want twenty thousand . . .'

‘You mercenary little bitch!' Sam said, and a nerve throbbed at his temples. ‘I never suspected what you were really like. I thought you were a nice decent girl, Frances, but underneath you are as hard as nails. No wonder Marcus drank himself into an early grave.'

‘You know why Marcus drank too much,' Frances said, her face pale. She clenched her hands at her sides. ‘He got into the habit during the war and then he couldn't stand it when he found out about your nasty little secret. He just went to pieces. Well, I'm different. The price just went up. As well as the twenty thousand, I want three thousand a year for life.'

‘You are treading on dangerous ground, Frances.' Sam moved closer, a menacing look in his eyes. ‘I was going to give you two thousand a year anyway. You can have that and ten thousand for your share of the property, but that's all.'

‘I want twenty thousand pounds and three thousand a year,' Frances said. She looked at him proudly, refusing to show fear, though she was trembling inside. ‘If you don't pay I shall go to the police – and even if they can't prove anything it will cause trouble for you, Sam. You won't like that . . .'

His eyes flashed with temper and he grabbed hold of her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh so that she almost cried out. ‘And you won't like what I'll do to you if you open your mouth. I'll give you fifteen thousand and two thousand a year.'

‘I want the twenty thousand, Sam.' Frances raised her head proudly. ‘And three thousand a year. I think you owe me that. I've kept quiet about what you did – but I could tell Rosalind. She might think it was cause for divorce.'

His eyes dropped before hers. ‘I'll admit I shouldn't have done what I did – but it doesn't have to be this way, Frances. Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you. You might end up with a lot more than twenty thousand.'

‘No, thank you,' she said. ‘As soon as I have my money I'm going to move away from here. To be honest, I can't stand you, Sam. It was bad enough before you did what you did – but now I don't want to have to see you at all.'

‘What about Charlie?' Sam demanded. ‘He's my grandson and I'm entitled to see him sometimes.'

‘I shan't stop you coming down to visit now and then,' Frances said. ‘You can bring Rosalind and stay at the guest house that I am going to buy with the money you are going to pay me, Sam.'

Sam's eyes narrowed. ‘There's more than one way to skin a cat,' he said. ‘You think you've won, and maybe you have for the time being – but watch out, Frances. I'm not a man to take things lying down. I'll make you pay for this, believe me.'

Frances stood quite still until he had left, and then she went into the kitchen and found the cooking sherry. She poured herself a large glass and drank it down quickly.

Sam scared her because there was such violence in him. She hated being in this house, because it was too big without Marcus. She wanted to take Charlie and run away, but she had to wait for her money. Sam had caved in at the end, but she still wasn't sure he would pay up.

Frances poured another glass of sherry, sipping it more slowly this time. She didn't want to get into a bad habit the way Marcus had, but there was no doubt that it steadied her nerves. She just hoped that Sam would pay her so that she could leave soon.

Perhaps she ought to have taken the ten thousand and the income he'd been prepared to pay. He wouldn't have been angry then, and she might have got her money quickly. As it was, he might make her wait. She felt a bit regretful, but she had been so angry with him – and he deserved to be punished for what he had done.

Sam was furious as he drove home. Frances knew too much, and he was aware that she could make a lot of trouble for him if he didn't give her what she wanted. He was damned if he would cave into her blackmail. If there were any way out, he wouldn't pay her a penny. He'd been a damned fool to put one half of the property into Marcus's name. If he hadn't done that she wouldn't be entitled to anything – and she wouldn't have known a damn thing about his business.

He might have to pay her the ten thousand but he wasn't going to be blackmailed into giving her the twenty she wanted. He had planned to give her an income, see that she was all right, but now he had changed his mind. And yet if she tried she could ruin him. He cursed Marcus for being such a soft fool. If he'd only accepted where a lot of the money had come from – the apartments were only a part of his empire of vice and corruption. Marcus had pushed his nose in too far, discovering the seedy gambling clubs and other things . . . but Frances only knew about the apartments.

He would have to play her along for the moment. He might have to sell that apartment block. He knew someone who would give him more than Frances had demanded. He would pocket the difference, pay her ten thousand up front and make her wait for the rest. She might go away and forget about it . . . and if she didn't, well, he might just have to arrange something else for that little madam.

‘I suppose I should say I am sorry,' Amelia said as Emily walked into the small back parlour the next morning. It was a room they both liked, though there were others that they could use if they chose, but it had a particularly lovely view of the gardens. ‘I must say it wasn't very nice of you to go to Vane behind my back.'

‘It wasn't like that,' Emily said defensively. ‘Vane asked where you were and I said we had had a tiff. And then I told him the truth about Robert – but he already knew.'

‘Of course he did.' Amelia's eyes snapped with scorn. ‘Did you imagine that he was a fool?'

‘No, of course not.' Emily looked at her unhappily. ‘I suppose I just felt guilty for letting him believe it – but I should have known. I'm glad I talked to him. It means that I have no need to feel that I am lying to him, and if you can accept it, Amelia, I want to stay on here.'

‘Well, of course,' Amelia said. ‘Vane would be upset if you went. He loves Robert . . . as I do . . .' She looked a little ashamed. ‘I know I do things I shouldn't sometimes, but I feel as if Robert belongs to me. He is the son I wanted to give Vane . . .'

‘I know that,' Emily said. ‘And I am quite happy for you to take him out for walks and things, Amelia – but please not too many sweets and cakes for the sake of his teeth. And Nanny is my employee, even if I am a guest here.'

‘All right,' Amelia said and shrugged. ‘I suppose we have to learn to get along together. I was thinking of starting Robert on a pony next spring – if you agree? Vane told me to buy something suitable and either he or I will supervise, but one of the grooms is very good with teaching children. He works at a riding school at the weekends.'

‘I should like to talk to him and see the pony before Robert does,' Emily said. ‘But my brothers learned when they were about his age. I know you are good with horses, Amelia – and I think you will want to take good care of him.'

‘You know I would never do anything to harm Robert. You must know that, Emily?'

‘Yes, I do,' she said and smiled. ‘I hope we can forget that silly tiff we had and be friends again?'

‘Yes, of course. We have to,' Amelia said. ‘It is what Vane wants – and the least we can do is to get on for his sake.'

‘Yes, I know,' Emily said. ‘He is all right, isn't he? No sign of any more trouble with his heart?'

‘He seems fine,' Amelia said. ‘But I don't want to upset him.'

‘No, of course. We mustn't do that,' Emily agreed. She was thoughtful as she left the house and walked down to the home. She was very fond of Vane and it wouldn't be the same if anything happened to him.

Eight

‘I saw Frances this morning in Ely,' Alice said when her husband met her in the village main street. She had been into town and returned on the bus with her shopping, but Daniel had come to meet her to save her the long walk along fen droves. ‘She said she might be moving away soon, perhaps after Christmas. Apparently, Marcus left her some property. Sam is selling it for her and she is going to invest in a guest house at the sea – somewhere down where Emily lives she thinks.'

‘Sam won't think much to that,' Daniel said with a frown. ‘He dotes on Charlie – and so does Rosalind come to that. I wonder why Frances wants to go off like that? She won't know anyone and it is going to be hard running a place like that on her own.'

‘Well, it's what she wants,' Alice said looking doubtful. ‘I suppose she will employ girls to help her – but the business side will be down to her and I'm not sure that she will find it easy.'

‘I shouldn't think she has a clue,' Daniel said. ‘Marcus always looked after the money side.' He glanced at his wife as he drove through the High Street. It was clear of traffic, just a tractor chugging a little way ahead of him and a young boy on a pony. ‘Do you think I should talk to her? See if she really knows what she is doing?'

‘It might be a good idea,' Alice said. ‘She had two bottles of sherry in her basket . . .' She shook her head. ‘I expect she just needs it for cooking. After all, it is nearly Christmas.'

‘I shouldn't have thought she was doing that sort of cooking these days. How many sherry trifles can one person eat? She wouldn't give them to Charlie, would she?'