‘And you did bake the pudding,’ chuckled Mrs Harding.
*
Rummaging through the few clothes she’d managed to bring with her, Brenda found little fit to wear, settling for a very plain brown skirt and a white blouse she’d bought at a market in Spain. They were at least clean, as dear Mrs Harding had washed everything for her. Walking down the grand staircase and across the slate-tiled hall took her back to the days when she’d been a humble servant here. She felt as if she should be setting the table, preparing and serving food, as she’d done back then. No wonder Hugh could not get his head around the fact that she was now a member of his family.
Melissa was in the dining room when Brenda entered; standing alone smoking a cigarette, glass in hand by the grand marble fireplace. ‘Good gracious, so you are that whip of a girl who ran off with my brother? You’ve absolutely no right to come back here.’
Gazing upon her gloriously grand sister-in-law wearing a cocktail dress of blue silk organza with a tiered skirt and low neckline, Brenda felt like a piece of scum caught on the heel of a boot. Melissa was a classic beauty with an enchanting oval face, grey-green eyes and a haze of soft, silver-blonde curls; the kind of looks that would turn any man’s head. And Mrs Harding had surely been wrong about the threat of bankruptcy. It was quite obvious this young woman was not short of money. Facing her with the courage she’d acquired over the years, Brenda managed a polite smile.
‘As you know, Jack and I left under orders from his father, and were so in love that we married. However, I am fully aware of your brother’s doubts on the status of our relationship.’
‘I’m not at all surprised,’ Melissa curtly responded as she walked over to the sideboard to pour more gin into her glass. ‘If you imagine you can stay for dinner, you couldn’t be more wrong. You were definitely not invited.’
‘That is perfectly all right. The kitchen staff are most friendly, so I would have no objection to sharing a meal with them.’
‘Which is where you truly belong.’
‘They would not agree with you on that point, not now that I’m Jack’s widow,’ Brenda firmly contested. The pomposity of this woman was irritating her enormously. Her sister-in-law clearly believed that being rich and able to parade herself in a grand dining room decked out with glorious chandeliers, velvet curtains, elegant Chinese cabinets and a table long enough to host twenty people, gave her the right to be dismissive of an ordinary working-class lass. Had she no manners? ‘There is a reason I am here. With war having broken out, Jack did make a will, to ensure that I was properly provided for. But in order to prove that we truly were man and wife, I need the details of the family solicitor. He could hopefully retrieve the necessary paperwork from France.’
Tossing her half-smoked cigarette into the fire, Melissa snorted with laughter, making her firm aquiline nose puff out. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why would he waste time and money on such a pointless task?’
Brenda quietly ground her teeth while keeping a bland smile fixed upon her face. Now was surely the moment to reveal reality. ‘It’s not pointless at all. Jack told me that he’d sent a copy of his will to the family solicitor, and as I must consider our son’s future, I need to see it.’
The silence following this statement was slightly unnerving, making Brenda almost regret having revealed the truth. The last thing she wished to talk about was the fear she felt for her lost child. A deep voice from behind broke the silence with a snarl of harsh fury.
‘What the hell are you talking about? You’ve made no mention of any son.’
Hugh had chosen that moment to walk in. Turning to face him, her heart pounding, Brenda met his gaze full on. ‘You never asked. Thomas, or Tommy, as we call him, was, sadly, not born until after his father’s death. Yet Jack was fully aware I was expecting, and looking forward to the birth of his child. As I have attempted to explain, he did make the necessary provision for his family’s future security.’
‘Where is this alleged son?’ Melissa scornfully asked, eyes narrowing as she sipped her gin. ‘We’ve no proof that he even exists.’
‘Ah, that is the problem,’ Brenda confessed. Her voice dropped as she briefly explained how she’d left him with Camille when she was arrested, believing him to be safe. And had then failed to find him once she’d escaped years later.
‘Arrested? Escaped? Are you claiming to be a spy, or do you just like making up yet more stupid stories?’ Hugh accused her.
Brenda firmly lifted her chin. ‘I’m telling you exactly what happened.’
‘Utter nonsense,’ Melissa scoffed.
Battling to remain calm, Brenda had never felt more furious. What on earth had possessed her to imagine the Stuart family would believe anything she said? Jack had been the kindest, sweetest man on earth, so why wasn’t his brother, who looked so like him, equally kind? Dressed for dinner in a smart black suit with bow tie and white shirt, he appeared most handsome, yet his manner was rude, arrogant and completely unfriendly, even if she did find herself enthralled by the sparkle in his grey eyes. ‘It is not a subject I find easy to talk about in any detail, as it’s quite painful to remember those years in an internment camp. But if you feel it necessary, I will do my best to describe how it was.’ She’d most certainly never admit to all that had happened there. Wouldn’t that give them the excuse they sought to claim that Tommy was not Jack’s son?
Hugh gave a snort of derision. ‘I’ve heard enough of your lies. Why would I believe this child to be my brother’s son when you cannot even prove you were married?’
‘What’s going on? What are you accusing Brenda of?’ Prue had walked in and glared at her sour-faced brother, a puzzled frown on her face.
‘This chit is telling even more lies in order to get her hands on our family’s money,’ Melissa stated in an imperious tone. ‘She’s claiming to have had a son by Jack, but there’s absolutely no evidence of that fact.’
Prue gasped, and with a happy smile on her face clutched Brenda’s hands. ‘You have a son? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Brenda nodded, tears filling her eyes. ‘Because I find it so hard to talk about. He’s lost, as is Camille’s cousin, who was helping to look after him. I’ve spent years searching for him, and came back in the hope he might be here with his grandmother. But with Camille gone, I can’t understand why Adèle hasn’t been in touch. Where is she? And how on earth am I going to find my son if no one has her address?’
‘So you’re attempting to put the blame upon other people when it was you who abandoned your child,’ Hugh retorted. ‘Even when you know from personal experience how wrong that is. If you were planning to move him out of Paris, you would surely know where he was going?’
Hating his tone of voice, Brenda stuck firmly to her courage. ‘I was arrested, quite out of the blue, simply for being British. There was no time to organise or check anything.’
‘Why would we believe a word you say?’ Melissa pompously stated. ‘This is a tale you’ve invented in order to get your greedy hands on Jack’s money. I have four children and will not for one moment allow you to rob them of their rightful inheritance.’
Prue put her arm about her friend. ‘I do not believe Brenda is attempting any such thing. She is simply doing what is right for her own child.’
‘We have absolutely no evidence that he really is Jack’s son,’ her sister staunchly repeated. ‘And Mama did once write to say that this strip of a girl accepted an invitation to join a brothel. So we’re perfectly well aware she’s a whore.’
Brenda gasped, shock reverberating through