‘More worried than angry. Come on; I’ll go down with you and you can make your peace.’ He helped her up, his eyes narrowing as he studied the grimy streaks of woe visible on her face. ‘We’d better clean you up first.’ He opened the door to his private bathroom and pushed her gently inside, standing over her while she washed her face and hands.
‘Here.’ He tossed her a towel. It smelled faintly of cologne—the same harsh, rather musky scent she’d noticed as he’d picked her up from the floor. It suited him far better than some of the more florid scents her mother’s leading men used, she thought, burying her face in the towel, breathing in luxuriously.
‘Thank you,’ she said politely as she handed it back. She looked up at him, letting her eyes widen and the corner of her mouth curve upwards slightly as she’d seen Debra do so many times. And saw his brows snap together.
‘You’re far too young for tricks like that.’ He tapped the tip of her nose with a finger, his mouth twisting. ‘One charmer in the family is quite enough to be going on with.’
It sounded almost like a joke, but she sensed that it wasn’t really meant to be funny. She found herself wondering with an intuition beyond her years whether Marius Benedict really welcomed his uncle’s marriage and the unlooked-for expansion of the family group.
Downstairs, Marius shrugged off the inevitable recriminations over her disappearance, saying easily that she’d made herself a secret den and fallen asleep in it.
‘A den?’ Debra repeated, as if the word needed translation. ‘But where?’
Watching him, Lydie saw that his cool smile didn’t reach his eyes. He said quite gently, ‘If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret any longer.’ Then he looked at Lydie and his smile warmed into a reassuring grin.
From that moment she’d been his slave.
Looking back over the years, Lydie could see wryly what a nuisance the unstinting adoration of a small girl must have been to him. But if he’d been irritated he’d never let it show, treating her generally with an amused if slightly distant kindness.
As she’d grown older, and more perceptive, she’d become aware of his reserve—that almost tangible barrier that divided him from the rest of the world. She’d wondered sometimes if his being an orphan had created it. After losing both parents he’d had no softening female influence in his life, unless you counted Mrs Arnthwaite, which Lydie privately thought was impossible.
And Debra’s invasion had made things worse, not better. Lydie had realised that quite early on. Sensed the underlying tensions, and her mother’s simmering, barely concealed resentment of the young man who’d been her husband’s main priority for so many years.
She came first with him now; that went without saying. Austin’s pride in her was enormous, and he indulged her to the hilt.
But that hadn’t been enough for Debra.
Because it should have been Jon next in line—Jon, the golden, the beautiful, the favoured child. Lydie hadn’t needed to be told this. She’d always existed in her brother’s shadow, but she loved him enough not to mind, admiring the good looks and talent he himself took so much for granted.
And yet Marius had been Austin’s heir, who would fill his shoes at Greystones and eventually take over the running of the mill. No alternative had been even considered—at least, not then.
It had not been all plain sailing between Austin and Marius either. Austin had taken the mill which his great-grandfather had founded and built it into an amazing success. The Benco Mill was Thornshaugh’s biggest employer, and the steadiest.
Marius, however, had wanted to move away from the autocratic, paternalistic style of management to greater worker participation. He’d fought too for the latest machinery and office systems to be installed. He’d introduced a private health scheme and ordered a complete overhaul of the firm’s social club, ensuring that it was a comfortable venue for the whole family.
There had invariably been furious arguments but they’d always been resolved. In spite of his protests that ‘what was good enough for my father should be good enough for anyone’ Austin had recognised that no business could stand still and had given ground, albeit grudgingly.
He’d even begun to talk of retirement ...
And then, not long after Austin’s sixtieth birthday party, there’d been that final, terminal, furiously bitter quarrel, and Marius had gone, as if into thin air, his room stripped of his clothes and belongings, his destination a mystery. It hadn’t even been known if he’d travelled alone.
And Austin, his normally ruddy complexion suddenly grey, had made it dogmatically clear that the matter would end there.
It had been a nine days’ wonder in Thornshaugh, only superseded by the shock of Austin’s sudden collapse. Life had become a chaos of ambulance sirens, doctors’ hushed voices and endless telephone calls of enquiry.
In the middle of it all, Lydie had tried to comfort her mother as she’d waited to be admitted to see her husband in Intensive Care.
Debra had turned on her. ‘This is his fault.’ Her voice had risen, cracking. ‘Your precious Marius. This is what he’s done. He’s a murderer. You dare mention him again...’
Lydie had never dared after that. Austin had been very ill and her worry over him had had to take precedence over her own grinding pain and bewilderment—her crying need to make sense of what had happened.
She drew a quivering sigh, and lifted her head from the steering wheel, gazing ahead of her with unseeing eyes.
‘Are y’all right, Miss Hatton?’ The security man appeared beside the car, peering curiously at her. ‘Only I was going to lock up the yard, like ’
‘Yes, Bernie.’ Lydie started her engine. ‘You do that.’ She backed up with extra care because she was shaking inside, and headed home.
Greystones Park was a hive of activity. The gardener was fastening up the last loop of fairy lights in the trees along the drive as Lydie passed, and there were caterers’ and florists’ vans everywhere.
She put the car away and slipped through the side-door and up to her room.
As she opened the door, Debra Benedict wheeled round from the window. ‘Where have you been?’ Her voice was accusing. She was wearing a black silk kimono sprinkled with flowers and was puffing nervously at a cigarette. ‘Didn’t that girl give you my message? Dear God, Lydie, have you the least idea what’s happened?’
‘Yes.’ Lydie paused warily. ‘I know. Marius has turned up.’
‘You know? You mean he’s been in touch with you—you were aware of what was planned?’ Debra’s voice lifted in furious incredulity.
‘Of course not. He came into the gallery just before we closed,’ Lydie said flatly. ‘I thought I was seeing things.’
Debra’s laugh held a hint of hysteria. ‘Unfortunately, my dear, he’s all too bloody real.’
‘Does Austin know yet?’
Debra drew unevenly on her cigarette. ‘Know? It’s all his doing. He’s invited him here—to his birthday party—without a single word to me—to anyone.’ This time her laugh was angry. ‘Simply told me this afternoon there’d be an extra guest. Just as if my opinion, my feelings didn’t count. God knows how long he’s been hatching this,’ she added venomously.
‘But isn’t it for the best?’ Lydie ventured. ‘He’s Austin’s only relative after all.’
‘Don’t be a fool.’ Debra glared at her. ‘You think I’m going to go along with all this absurd “forgive and forget” routine? Start mouthing cliches about blood being thicker than water?’ She almost spat the words. ‘Let him walk back in here and—cheat Jon out of everything he’s worked for—slaving