He gave her a quelling look and put an arm round his wife. ‘Since you city girls only come here on flying visits it’s hardly a problem.’
Time to go, thought Harriet. I get enough angst with my own family. ‘I really must be off. Thank you again. Goodnight.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ said James.
Claudia scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ll come with you.’
James shook his head. ‘I need to finalise arrangements with Harriet.’
She sat down again abruptly, hiding her flush of mortification behind the fall of pale hair.
‘Do come and see us again soon,’ said Moira, as Harriet left.
‘But you obviously don’t want to come here again, do you?’ demanded James as he saw Harriet to her car.
‘No, I don’t,’ she said frankly. ‘I like your sister and her husband very much, Lily too. Claudia obviously resents me due to this “fling” you mentioned, but the main reason is you, James. You still bear me a grudge.’
His face hardened in the bright security lights. ‘Do you blame me?’
‘Not in the least.’ Harriet slid into the car, switched on the ignition and opened the window. ‘Saturday then.’
‘Saturday it is.’ He gave her an unsettling smile. ‘I’ll be there on the stroke of ten. I’m really looking forward to meeting your father.’
His parting words sent chills down Harriet’s spine as she drove home. Did he intend coming to River House on Saturday for a showdown with her father before cancelling the party? Harriet shivered at the prospect, though she knew exactly why James had asked her to the Old Rectory. He could easily have obtained the information he wanted during a phone call, but instead he had wanted, maybe needed, to demonstrate that he now had a family background like hers. And that he was the object of the sexy Claudia’s passion. He needn’t have bothered about the last. Harriet had no doubt that he’d been the object of several women’s passion over the years. In his twenties he’d been attractive enough, but now he was ten years older he took her breath away.
CHAPTER THREE
ONCE informed of the new venture, Margaret Rogers, well aware of the difficult financial situation and most other things about the Wilde family, began on a frenzy of unnecessary cleaning. The furniture in every room was polished to an even higher gleam, and her husband was called in to wash the windows inside and out. The copper pans above the island in the kitchen were scoured to blinding glory, and Aubrey Wilde volunteered to eat out until after Saturday to keep the kitchen pristine. When Harriet got home on the Friday evening Margaret was waiting to take her on a tour of inspection. River House was looking its best from every possible point of view in the evening sunshine, the hall and drawing room fragrant with the arrangements made by Margaret from blooms and greenery Will had cut in the garden.
‘How hard you’ve worked. It all looks wonderful,’ said Harriet gratefully.
In Julia’s bedroom they stood on the balcony outside the window and looked down on the gardens, which sloped down to the river which gave the house its name.
‘Don’t you miss living up here, Harriet?’ Margaret asked. ‘It still worries me to think of you alone down in that little place.’
‘I like it there.’
‘But surely you’ll get married one day. You can’t act as clerk of the works for the house for ever. It’s not my place to say so, but it’s not natural for a girl to carry such a load on her shoulders.’
‘I promised I would,’ said Harriet.
‘I know.’ The other woman nodded sadly. ‘Your mother would want you to have a life, just the same.’ She patted Harriet’s hand. ‘No offence.’
‘Of course not,’ said Harriet affectionately. ‘Thank you for everything, Margaret. I don’t know what my father would do without you.’
‘I don’t do it for him, dear; I made a promise, too.’ Margaret smiled briskly. ‘And now I must get home and prepare supper for John.’
‘Please thank him for me. He’s been a huge help.’ And would be paid for it, no matter how much he protested.
Her father intercepted her on her way out. ‘Since this telecoms chap wants a marquee, let’s take a stroll round the garden.’
The herbaceous borders edging the lawns in front of the house were just coming into colour. Harriet breathed in the heady scent of newly cut grass as she tried to look at the gardens with the eye of a prospective client. ‘John’s done a great job with the weeding. Will says he wouldn’t have managed it all in time without him.’
‘Good man,’ said Aubrey, and gave her a sidelong look. ‘He’ll need to be paid.’
‘Of course. Now he’s retired, he can do with the money.’
They went on to walk round the four acres of garden together, a new experience to them both recently. It was years since Harriet had spent any real time alone in her father’s company. When they got back to the house he suggested a look round inside, but she told him she’d been over it earlier with Margaret.
‘She’s done even more wonders than usual, the house looks perfect.’
‘But it’s not,’ said her father heavily. ‘It would only be perfect if you came back home to live in it.’
She shook her head. ‘Not going to happen. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Next morning Harriet woke to the feeling of a cloud hanging over her and groaned at the thought of the morning ahead. In the shower she thought, not for the first time, that the only thing likely to drive her back to live in River House was the lure of a long hot soak in the kind of tub her bathroom was too small to accommodate. She dealt with her hair, tied it back in a skein of half damp curls, dressed in white shirt and jeans and ate some breakfast to get a kick-start to this important day. She couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that James intended turning River House down once he’d inspected it. Thank God he still had no idea her father had once been ready to threaten him with arrest.
Harriet walked up to the house shortly before ten to find her father pacing along the terrace, smartly dressed as always, but visibly tense.
‘Good morning.’ He smiled warily. ‘You look very young and pretty today.’
‘Thank you. You look good yourself.’ Her father never stinted on his wardrobe. ‘Luckily the weather forecast was accurate for once. The gardens look fabulous in this sunshine. Will has worked incredibly hard.’ She tensed at the sound of a car engine changing gears on the bend of the steep drive. ‘Our client’s arrived.’
Harriet waited with her father at the head of the steps, very much aware that his tension equalled her own. When James got out of a black convertible, wearing clothes much like hers, she saw her father relax and wished she could do the same.
‘Looks like a decent sort of chap—that’s an Aston Martin Volante,’ he said in an undertone, and Harriet stood rigid with apprehension as James mounted the steps towards them. ‘Good morning,’ said her father, smiling genially. ‘Welcome to River House. I’m Aubrey Wilde.’
‘James Crawford.’ James returned the smile, looking at him steadily as he shook hands. ‘I’ve already met your daughter, of course. Good morning, Miss Wilde.’
She forced her stiff lips to smile. ‘Good morning. Isn’t it a lovely day? Shall we start the tour in the garden, or would you prefer to see over the house first?’
‘The gardens, please. With luck, the weather will be good on the day and we’ll have no need to trespass in the house.’