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‘Oh, God!’ Alison felt dazed, but she made herself think. ‘But there are his shares in Mortimers, they must be worth something.’
‘Only if the company itself has any value,’ Colonel Bosworth said gloomily. ‘And there’s every chance of a receiver being put in.’
She bit her lip. ‘Well—there’s this house. I know it’s big, and inconvenient, but Daddy had it valued not long ago, and if we sold it, and found somewhere smaller …’
He was shaking his head. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you, my dear.’ His voice was awkward with compassion. ‘The house, I’m afraid, he used as security for a considerable loan. Mortimers needed new machinery for a potential order from China—engineering components, I understand. It could have been the salvation of the place, and Anthony gambled everything on getting it.’ He looked very old suddenly. ‘Only he didn’t. He got the news just before—just before …’
‘His attack,’ Alison said. She felt very cold, her body trembling uncontrollably. ‘I—see. So—Ladymead doesn’t belong to us any more. I—I can’t quite believe it.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Poor Mummy? Where can she go? What can she do?’
‘That is something we all have to discuss. But there need be no hasty decisions. I’m sure she’ll be treated with every consideration by the—er—new owner.’
‘New owner?’ Her bewildered eyes searched his face. ‘But you said the house had been used as security. It belongs to a bank, doesn’t it?’
‘Not as such.’ Uncle Hugh looked more uncomfortable than ever. ‘Your father had trouble in raising the money he wanted. It was felt, I think, that his proposition wasn’t a good risk—as indeed it proved. The eventual loan was a—private arrangement, although perfectly legal, of course,’ he added hastily.
Alison’s nails scored the palms of her hands. She said unsteadily, ‘It’s—Nicholas Bristow, isn’t it?’
Uncle Hugh nodded wretchedly, ‘Yes.’
She whispered, ‘Oh, God. So that’s why …’
She couldn’t say any more. She turned away, fighting her emotions, struggling to retain some rags of self-control as the full force of everything that had happened broke on her.
Crazily, a line from Shakespeare kept echoing and re-echoing in her head: ‘One woe doth tread upon another’s heels, so fast they follow.’ And the upshot was that Ophelia was drowned, and she was drowning too, in anger and outrage and bewilderment.
At last she said brokenly, ‘How could Daddy? How could he—mortgage our home to a stranger?’
‘Because he was a gambler,’ her uncle returned sombrely. ‘Oh, not with cards or horses—that might have been easier to deal with. But he liked to take risks in business—unnecessary risks, like investing in these new machines without any guarantees from the Chinese that they’d ever be needed. I don’t think the possibility of losing his gamble ever occurred to him. And give him his due, if Mortimers had won that contract, it would have been just the boost the works needed. He’d have been able to pay off the loan too, and neither your mother nor you and Melanie would ever have been any the wiser.’
‘Only it didn’t work out like that,’ said Alison with a small mirthless smile. ‘The problem now is—how do we break the news to Mother? How do we tell her she’s not only penniless, but homeless too? And at the hands of a man she doesn’t like. Or has Mr Bristow come to serve his notice to quit in person?’
‘On the contrary.’ Uncle Hugh looked almost affronted. ‘You’re doing him an injustice, Ally. He is most concerned.’
‘How kind of him!’ She pushed her hair back from her face with a shaking hand. ‘But it doesn’t change anything. He’s not going to give us back our home, is he?’
‘You have to be realistic, my dear.’ Her uncle looked horrified. ‘No one could be expected simply to write off a debt of that magnitude. No, I’m afraid your poor father knew what he was risking when he entered into the arrangement—much against Alec Liddell’s advice, I may say.’
‘Bravo, Mr Liddell,’ Alison said wearily. ‘He’ll be here soon, I suppose.’
‘In about half an hour.’ He nodded in affirmation. ‘The others should be leaving by then. I thought we could all have a quiet chat—a family conclave, to decide what’s best to be done.’
‘And do you now count Nicholas Bristow as part of the family?’
There was an edge to her voice, and her uncle frowned rather reprovingly as he answered, ‘No, of course not, child. But I’m sure it would be better for all concerned if matters were conducted on as—amicable a basis as possible. I know he’s anxious to reassure your mother that he has no immediate plans to take possession.’
She winced. ‘Don’t!’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Ally, but it’s something you’re going to have to come to terms with. Ladymead belongs to Nicholas Bristow now.’
She said softly, fiercely, ‘Over my dead body.’
As she got to the study door, she heard Melanie’s voice, and groaned inwardly. She turned the handle and went in. Melanie, flushed and bright-eyed, was draped decoratively across the arm of one of the big chairs, clearly in the middle of some anecdote which Nicholas Bristow was receiving with amused appreciation.
Alison said clearly and precisely, ‘Would you go up to your room, Melanie, please. I have something I wish to say to Mr Bristow.’
For once Melanie didn’t stop to argue. She took one look at Alison’s stormy eyes, at the bright spots of colour burning in the pallor of her face, and went without a word.
Alison closed the door behind her, then drew a deep breath before turning back to face him.
He said softly, ‘Don’t be angry with her, Miss Mortimer. You can’t expect a kid of her age to join in day after day of undiluted gloom.’
He was seated on the edge of the big desk, glass in hand, swinging one elegantly shod foot. He had even, she noticed, loosened his tie slightly, and it was that detail which set the seal on her rage and bitterness.
‘Get off my father’s desk,’ she said, her voice quivering. ‘Get away from his things. They don’t belong to you yet.’
He finished what was left in his glass and put it down, then got to his feet without haste.
‘So he told you,’ he observed expressionlessly.
‘Yes, he told me.’ She threw back her head defiantly, staring at him with disgust. ‘I thought you were a financier, Mr Bristow, not a cheap money-lender!’
‘Oh, I’m certainly not cheap, Miss Mortimer,’ he said. He was smiling derisively, but there was anger simmering underneath, and she knew it. ‘But do go on. I’m sure you can think of something appropriate about me preying on widows and orphans, if you really put your mind to it. Come on, sweetheart, let it rip. Don’t leave a cliché unturned.’
‘You bastard,’ Alison said unevenly.
He clicked his tongue reprovingly. ‘Not very inventive, or even true. Try again.’
She wrapped her arms round her body, shivering. ‘You’re vile,’ she said quietly, after a pause. ‘You’ve robbed us of everything, and you can stand there—taunting me!’
The blue eyes flicked over her, swift and cruel as an arctic wind. ‘Let it be a lesson to you, Miss Mortimer. Never begin what you’re not prepared—or equipped—to finish. Now, you mentioned something about my having robbed you. That’s not only a slander, but a lie. I did my damnedest to talk your father out of the whole thing, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He called it a calculated risk—I called it madness.’
‘But you still went ahead and loaned him the money.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Because he might have pulled it off. By all accounts, he’d dragged Mortimers back from the brink more than once. If the Chinese deal had come off, I’d have been repaid, at a handsome rate of interest. Why should I have turned him down?’
‘But you can’t really want this house,’ she said, almost feverishly. ‘It’s been in our family for generations. It’s old-fashioned, and a nightmare to heat, and staff and keep clean. It’s probably got woodworm, and dry rot, and—and deathwatch beetle.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Although it needs a certain amount of renovation and improvement, it’s basically sound. Your father had a survey and valuation done not long ago—at my behest, naturally,’
‘So you always recognised the possibility …’
‘That your father might not be in a position to repay me? Of course.’ He gave a slight shrug. ‘Although I couldn’t predict the present tragic circumstances, of course.’
‘Of course,” she echoed bitterly. ‘And how long do we have, Mr Bristow, before you start to recoup your losses by putting Ladymead on the market?’
‘Oh, I’m not going to sell it,’ he said casually. ‘I’m going to live here.’
CHAPTER TWO (#udf40e4b1-8d07-581c-89eb-12bba3fa21fa)
‘LIVE HERE?’ Alison repeated the words almost mechanically, her brain seething. ‘You can’t be serious!’
‘I’m perfectly serious. It’s a very charming house—or did you think only members of your own family had the taste to appreciate it?’
‘Of course not.’ She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘But this isn’t a very fashionable area—and a fair distance from London, and the kind of lifestyle you’re accustomed to.’
Nicholas Bristow’s mouth curled. ‘How do you know the kind of lifestyle I’m accustomed to?’ he asked flatly.
Alison flushed. ‘You don’t exactly keep your haunts—or your companions—a secret,’ she said in a constricted tone.
‘Ah.’ He gave her a long look. ‘I wouldn’t have put you down as a devotee of the gutter press, Miss Mortimer, but let it pass. If you feel entitled to some explanation, then I’ll give you one. I’ve a comfortable house in Town, but I’ve never regarded it as home particularly. Perhaps I’ve reached a stage in my life where the idea of putting down some roots has suddenly become appealing—I don’t know. Anyway, people commute to City offices from far greater distances than this, and besides, there’s room in the grounds for a helicopter pad if I thought it was necessary. Does that satisfy your curiosity?’
‘It wasn’t simply curiosity,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d hoped, you see, if you were going to put the house on the market, to perhaps come to some arrangement, but I see now that’s impossible.’
His brows rose. ‘What did you have in mind, as a matter of interest?’
Her flush deepened burningly. ‘I have a job. I thought, given time, I might be able to pay off the mortgage.’
‘I doubt whether either of us would live long enough to see that happy day,’ he said sarcastically. ‘May I know what your salary is?’ She told him, and he sighed. ‘Miss Mortimer, this is the real world, not some fairy tale. It would take every penny you earn, and considerably more besides, and leave you with nothing to live on. I don’t think any house is worth such a sacrifice, do you?’
‘I don’t think you understand. This is our home, and has been for generations …’
‘I understand perfectly. But the reign of the Mortimers was coming to a halt anyway. Unless you or your sister plan to persuade your future husbands to change their names to Mortimer to carry on the old tradition?’
‘I wasn’t thinking particularly of Melanie or myself,’ Alison said in a low voice. ‘But being turned out of her home will be incredibly hard on my mother. She—she isn’t very strong …’
‘So I gather.’ There was no softening in his face. ‘I shall try and make sure she receives every consideration. Or did you think I was going to evict her bodily into some convenient blizzard?’
‘I don’t know what I thought,’ Alison said wearily. ‘But I do know that nothing you can say or do will cushion this kind of blow, especially following on from my father’s death.’
‘If your father had lived, he would have been bankrupt,’ Nicholas Bristow said harshly. ‘I can’t think that would have appealed to her either. In the present circumstances, she can leave Ladymead with dignity, and an income to maintain her, although it won’t pay the upkeep of another house of this size,’ he added, rather grimly.
‘I think I’ve managed to work that out for myself,’ Alison said bitterly. ‘The fact is, Mr Bristow, you saw this house and wanted it, and that’s why you won’t consider any alternatives.’
‘Unless you plan to come into a fortune, Miss Mortimer, there are no alternatives,’ he said. ‘But let me assure you that my dealings with your late father will remain private. As far as the outside world is concerned, I am in the process of purchasing Ladymead from your father’s estate, as it’s now too large for your family’s needs.’
‘Please don’t expect me to be grateful.’ Alison’s chin lifted.
‘No, I think I wrote off that possibility from the moment you entered this room,’ he returned grimly. ‘Next time you want to ask favours, Miss Mortimer, a softer approach might stand you in better stead.’
‘I don’t plan to approach you again for any cause whatsoever,’ Alison snapped. ‘Goodbye, Mr Bristow.’
She went straight to her room and threw herself across the bed. She wanted to scream and cry, and beat the mattress with her bare fists, but she was beyond tears. After a long time she sat up slowly, staring around her at all the dear familiar things which had surrounded her since childhood. Nothing stayed the same for ever, she knew that, but she hadn’t expected the changes in her life to be so sudden, or so far-reaching.
Presently she would have to go downstairs again, to be at her mother’s side when the bad news was broken to her, but first she needed to think—to consider practical possibilities, so that she could make some positive suggestions about how they could put the pieces of their lives together.
And, if she was honest, she needed a breathing space before she could face Nicholas Bristow again.
Alison’s nails curled into the palms of her hands. This room no longer seemed a sanctuary for her. Already, his presence seemed everywhere. It made her writhe to remember him sitting on the edge of her father’s desk, master of all he surveyed. He’d lost no time in making himself at home, she thought with angry bitterness.
But she had to admit that her suggestion that she might be able to buy back the house somehow had been a ridiculous one, prompted by a sense of sheer desperation.
She curled up against the pillows and began to think. Without her housekeeping duties at Ladymead to take into account, she could accept Simon’s offer of full-time work, she thought, and the increase in salary, plus her mother’s annuity, would allow them a reasonable standard of living.
She sighed soundlessly. Only Catherine Mortimer wasn’t used to reasonable standards. She’d been indulged and spoiled all her married life, with every expensive whim catered to. She would not take kindly to any reduction in her level of spending.
And the other major problem was Melanie’s school fees. She was being considered, Alison knew, as a possible Oxford entrant, and it was imperative for her education not to be disrupted. But the cost of maintaining her at Mascombe Park was formidable.
Even if Simon were to make her a partner, she would still only be able to afford a percentage of the cost, Alison thought forlornly. It was late in the day to start thinking about scholarships, even if there were any available. Yet Mel deserved her chance.
Reluctantly Alison uncurled and stood up. Problems were building up like storm clouds, but there was no way to avoid in the inevitable cloudburst, or even postpone it.
She held her head high as she went downstairs.
‘Well, I think the sooner we leave Ladymead, the better,’ Alison spoke with quiet determination.
‘But where can we go?’ wailed Mrs Mortimer. Alison noted with compassion that her mother’s hands were shaking. Yet during that long painful confrontation in the study, she had behaved with amazing control and dignity, listening without comment as the situation was outlined to her by a clearly embarrassed and unhappy Alec Liddell.
Nicholas Bristow had had little to say too, she recalled, his dark face almost sombre as he listened. She wondered if he had been feeling any kind of compunction.
She said, ‘I’ll talk to Simon when I go back to work on Monday, and see what he suggests. I know there’s nothing very suitable on the books at the moment, and he might advise renting somewhere for a time.’
‘Rented property?’ Mrs Mortimer couldn’t have sounded more anguished if Alison had suggested a tent in the middle of a ploughed field.
She sighed. ‘I don’t see what other choice we have. You surely don’t want to remain here on Nicholas Bristow’s charity?’
‘I can’t imagine what he wants with a house like this,’ her mother said bitterly. ‘It’s far too large for a bachelor.’
‘I don’t suppose he’s going to be a bachelor for much longer,’ Melanie, who had been sitting staring listlessly into the fire, roused herself to say. ‘There’ve been heaps of stories in the papers lately about him and Hester Monclair. They reckon when her divorce goes through, they’ll be married. She’s divorcing her husband for unreasonable behaviour, and he’s considering cross-petitioning for adultery, citing Nick Bristow.’ She giggled. ‘That’ll stir up this village!’
‘Melanie!’ Her mother spoke with sharp disapproval, her mind diverted momentarily from her own troubles. ‘Where in the world did you learn all those distasteful things?’
‘One of the women who cleans the dormitories brings in her Sunday papers for us,’ Melanie said promptly. ‘She says it’s only right we should know what wickedness there is in the world.’
‘Well, I think I shall write to Miss Lesley when you return to school.’
‘Don’t you mean “if"?’ Melanie muttered, but in too low a voice for her mother to hear. Alison shot her a warning glance.
‘Mr Bristow’s personal affairs are no concern of ours,’ she pointed out. ‘The least we can do is leave him in peace to conduct them. And that means finding somewhere else to live as quickly as possible.’
‘But where are we going to find with sufficient room to accommodate us?’ Mrs Mortimer demanded. ‘There’s the grand piano to consider, for one thing.’
Alison controlled a swift surge of impatience. ‘None of us plays the piano, Mother,’ she said gently. ‘I think it would be better to let it go to auction.’
Mrs Mortimer’s back straightened in outrage. ‘May I ask, Alison, if you’re determined to make me live in squalor?’ she demanded.
‘I’m not making you do anything, I hope—except maybe face a few facts,’ Alison said wearily. ‘We have to accustom ourselves to things being very different in future.’
Mrs Mortimer’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Aren’t you beeing a little insensitive, Alison? I’m sure I need no such reminder.’ She pressed her handkerchief to her lips, while her daughters exchanged despairing glances. After a pause, she went on, ‘Hugh and Beth have very kindly asked me to stay with them, while I consider my future. I may well take them up on their offer. Now, I’m going to lie down for a while, and try to recover some of my strength. I presume dinner will still be served in this house this evening, Alison?’ And on this, she swept from the room with a certain majesty.
