‘Some coffee, perhaps—and a few sandwiches, please. I couldn’t eat on the plane.’
She watched Berry hurry away, then, with a sigh, walked across the hall. For a moment she halted, staring at herself in the big mirror which hung above the pretty crescent-shaped antique table.
She was a cool lady. Her boss said it with admiration, her friends with rueful smiles, and would-be lovers with exasperation bordering on hostility.
It was a persona she’d carefully and deliberately constructed. That she believed in.
But tonight there were cracks in the façade. Shadows of strain under the long-lashed grey-green eyes. Lines of tension tautening the self-contained mouth and emphasising the classic cheekbones.
It was the first time she’d had the chance to take a good look at herself, and the emotional roller-coaster of the past few weeks had left its mark.
Her clothes were creased from travel, and her pale blonde hair seemed to be sticking to her scalp, she thought, grimacing as she ran her fingers through it. She stopped for one deep, calming breath, then went into the drawing room.
She halted for a moment, assimilating with shock the over-stuffed sofas, with their heavy brocade covers, and matching drapes, which managed to be expensive and charmless at the same time—all new since her last visit.
The lovely old Persian rugs had been replaced by a white fitted carpet, and there were gilt and crystal chandeliers instead of the graceful lamps she remembered, and mirrors everywhere.
It all looked like a stage setting, which had probably been exactly the intention, with Eloise playing the leading part—the nearest she’d ever come to it in her entire career. Only she’d quit before the end of the run…
Sir Robert, perched uneasily on the edge of a chair amid all this splendour, sprang to his feet with open relief when he saw Cressida.
‘My dear child. This is a bad business.’ He hugged her awkwardly. ‘I still can’t believe it.’
‘Nor can I.’ Cressida shook her head as she bent to kiss her aunt. ‘Has there been any word from Eloise?’
‘None,’ Sir Robert said shortly. ‘And we shouldn’t expect any. She practically ransacked the house before she left.’ He frowned. ‘Berry says she’s taken all your mother’s jewellery, my dear.’
‘Dad gave it to her when they were married,’ Cressida reminded him evenly. ‘She was entitled. And as least we’re rid of her.’
‘But at a terrible price.’ Sir Robert pursed his lips. ‘Of course, I could never understand what James saw in her.’
‘Which makes you quite unique, darling,’ his wife told him drily, drawing Cressida down to sit beside her.
‘Eloise was a very beautiful, very sexy young woman and she took my unfortunate brother by storm. He was besotted by her from the moment they met, and probably still is.’
‘Good God, Barbara, she’s ruined him—she and her—paramour.’
‘That’s the trouble with love,’ Cressida said slowly. ‘It blinds you—drives you crazy…’
I never understood before, she thought painfully. But I do now. Oh, God, I do now…
She pulled herself together and looked at her uncle. ‘Is it really true? It’s not just some terrible mistake?’
Sir Robert shook his head soberly. ‘The mistake was your father’s, I’m afraid. It seems he met this Caravas man when he and Eloise were in Barbados two years ago. He claimed to be a financial adviser, produced adequate credentials, and gave them a few bits of advice which were perfectly sound.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I think they call it salting the mine.’
‘When did he first mention the Paradise Grove development?’
‘Several months later,’ her uncle said grimly. ‘They happened to run into him at the ballet, it seems, except there was nothing random about the encounter. There were a couple of other meetings—dinner, an evening at Glyndebourne which he paid for—then he started talking about this exclusive hotel and leisure complex, and what an investment opportunity it was. He said it would make them millionaires many times over, but only a really high investment would bring a high return.’
Cressy drew a painful breath. ‘So Dad put all his money into it? And remortgaged this house? Everything?’
Sir Robert’s nod was heavy. ‘If only James had told me what he was planning, I might have been able to talk him out of it. But by the time I found out what was troubling him, it was too late.’
‘And, of course, it was a sting.’ Cressy looked down at her clasped hands. Her voice was level. ‘Paradise Grove was a mangrove swamp in the middle of nowhere. No one was ever going to build anything there.’
‘Yes. But it was clever. I’ve seen the plans—the architects’ drawings—the documentation. Including the apparent government licences and permissions. It all looked very professional—very official.’
‘Like all the best confidence tricks.’ Cressy shook her head. ‘And the clever Mr Caravas? When did he and Eloise get together?’
‘I imagine quite early on. There’s no doubt she pushed James into the scheme for all she was worth. And now she and Caravas have completely vanished. The police say that they’ll have new identities and the money safely laundered into a numbered account somewhere. Their plans were carefully made.’ He paused. ‘Your father wasn’t the only victim, of course.’
Cressy closed her eyes. She said, ‘How on earth could Dad have taken such an appalling risk?’
Sir Robert cleared his throat. ‘My dear, he was always a gambler. That was part of his success in business. But he’d had some stockmarket losses, and—other problems. He saw it as a way of ensuring his long-term security in one big deal. He’s never taken kindly to retirement. He wanted to be a key player again.’ He paused. ‘Quite apart from the personal pressure.’
‘Yes,’ Cressida said bitterly. ‘And now I have to see if there’s anything that can be saved from this ghastly mess.’ She looked around her. ‘I suppose this house will have to go.’
‘It seems so,’ Barbara Kenny said unhappily. ‘I doubt if James will have much left apart from his company pension.’
Cressy nodded, her face set. ‘I’ve brought my laptop down with me. Tomorrow I’ll start looking—finding out how bad things really are.’
There was a tap on the door and Mrs Berryman came in with a tray. The scent of the coffee, and the sight of the pile of ham sandwiches, the plate of home-made shortbread and the rich Dundee cake accompanying them, reminded Cressy how long it was since she’d eaten.
She said warmly, ‘Berry—that looks wonderful.’
‘You look as if you need it.’ The housekeeper’s glance was searching as well as affectionate. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘Berry’s right,’ her aunt commented when they were alone again. ‘You are thinner.’
Cressy was pouring coffee. ‘I expect it’s an illusion created by my Greek suntan. Although I did do a lot of walking while I was out there.’ And swimming. And dancing…
‘My dear, I’m so sorry that your holiday had to be interrupted like this,’ Sir Robert said heavily. ‘But I felt you had to be told—even before James collapsed.’
Cressy forced a smile. ‘It was time I came back anyway.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘You can have—too much of a good thing.’ She handed round the coffee and offered the plate of sandwiches. ‘I’d have been here sooner, but of course it’s the height of the holiday