‘His fiancée, eh?’ Rafe turned, and put the dog down again. Ignoring its complaints, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, a heavy strand of night dark hair falling over his eyes. ‘That must please you. Him settling down at last.’
‘If it’s true.’ The old lady massaged the handle of the malacca cane that stood beside her chair and Rafe thought how difficult it would be for Cary to put one over on his grandmother. Her brain was as sharp as it had ever been, despite the many wrinkles that lined her patrician features. ‘I’ve met the girl, actually. She and her family lived in the same road as Charles and Isabel, when they were alive. Her name is Juliet Lawrence—well, it used to be Lawrence, but she’s a divorcee, so who knows what she calls herself now? She’s younger than Cary. Her father used to work in the City. Her mother died when she was just a baby and I believe her father died five or six years ago.’
‘A comprehensive history,’ remarked Rafe drily, and Lady Elinor gave him a darkling look.
‘I need to know these things, Raphael,’ she said irritably. ‘I don’t want Cary marrying some strumpet. At least this girl is from a decent family.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘You don’t think entertaining Cary and his girlfriend might be too much for you right now?’ he ventured, and saw the look of indignation that crossed the old lady’s face.
‘I’ve had a cold, Raphael. Not pneumonia. It’s the time of year. I always catch a cold in the spring.’
‘If you say so.’ Rafe knew better than to argue. ‘OK. If that’s all, I’ll go and see if Josie needs any help. If you’re putting them in the Lavender Room, I’d better check the bathroom for leaks.’
Lady Elinor looked positively offended. ‘I’m not putting them anywhere,’ she declared, laying great emphasis on the pronoun. ‘Cary will stay in his own room, as usual, and Miss Lawrence can use Christina’s apartments.’
Rafe’s jaw tightened. ‘I’ve never heard you call them that before.’
‘Haven’t you?’ The old lady was dismissive. ‘Christina was my daughter, Raphael. Just because she chose to live the kind of life I could never approve of doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten her.’
‘Or forgiven her?’
‘I’m too old to bear grudges, Raphael.’
‘OK.’ He inclined his head and strolled towards the door. ‘Is there anything else you need?’
Lady Elinor pursed her lips. ‘Josie told me that you had a reception at the studio last night,’ she ventured, with some reluctance. ‘Why wasn’t I informed?’
Rafe sighed, pausing in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame. ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’
The old lady scowled. ‘And why would you think that?’
‘Why would I think that? Let me count the ways,’ he misquoted mockingly. ‘Because you don’t approve of my painting portraits for a living? Because you don’t want me to turn out like my mother? Because my independence sticks in your craw? Am I getting close?’
‘I don’t approve of some of the people you mix with,’ conceded Lady Elinor testily. ‘But I never stopped your mother from doing what she wanted, and I shan’t attempt to stop you. Remember, it was she who chose to live in all those exotic places, hauling a small boy around whose existence I knew nothing of. When she died, however, I didn’t hesitate in offering you a home here with me.’
Rafe’s shoulders rounded. ‘I know.’
‘Just because we don’t always see eye to eye—’
‘Look, I’m sorry, OK?’
‘—doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Raphael.’
‘I know.’ Rafe closed his eyes for a moment and then said wearily, ‘I should have told you about the reception. You’re right, I was thoughtless. The local paper took some pictures, so when I get copies I’ll show them to you. It wasn’t a very grand affair. Just a glass of wine and a chance to view the studio.’
‘I’m sure it was very exciting,’ said Lady Elinor, but Rafe could hear the reluctance in her voice. ‘Before long, you won’t be spending any time at Tregellin at all.’
‘I’ll always have time for you, old lady,’ retorted Rafe harshly. ‘Look, I’ve really got to get moving. I’m meeting Liv Holderness at half-past twelve.’
‘Olivia Holderness?’ Lady Elinor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Would that be Lord Holderness’ daughter?’
‘Lord Holderness doesn’t have a daughter,’ said Rafe flatly. ‘Or a son either, as you very well know. Liv’s his wife. She wants to discuss having her portrait painted as a gift to her husband on his sixtieth birthday.’
‘I see.’ The old lady frowned. ‘You seem very familiar with her. I seem to remember Holderness hasn’t been married to her for very long.’
‘Eighteen months, I think.’ Rafe’s tone was sardonic. He knew nothing went on in the surrounding area that Lady Elinor didn’t hear about sooner or later. ‘She’s his third wife. The old guy turns them in at regular intervals for a new model.’
‘Don’t be coarse.’ Lady Elinor was disapproving. ‘And you be careful what you’re doing, Raphael. It seems significant to me that she’d choose a local studio over any number of more famous establishments she and her husband must know in London.’
Rafe grimaced. ‘Damned with faint praise,’ he said drily. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve known Liv for a few years. Her father owns the Dragon Hotel in Polgellin Bay.’
‘Ah.’ The old lady nodded. ‘So she’s one of the Melroses?’
‘The youngest daughter,’ agreed Rafe, wishing the old lady didn’t make them sound like the Doones.
‘So she’s a lot younger than Holderness?’
Rafe nodded. ‘About thirty years, I think. But they seem happy enough.’
‘Well, you keep what I’ve said in mind,’ declared Lady Elinor, unexpectedly getting to her feet and coming towards him. She was tall, though not as tall as he was, and leaning heavily on her cane. She was wearing her signature pleated skirt and silk blouse, with a heather-coloured shawl draped about her shoulders, and her once dark hair was now liberally threaded with grey. She laid a hand on his sleeve and looked up at him with eyes as blue as the gentians that grew higher up the valley. ‘You take care,’ she added, reaching up to kiss him. ‘I may not always show it, but I’m very fond of you, Raphael.’
It was the electric bill that had done it.
It had been waiting for her when she’d got back to the apartment and she’d stared at the figure she owed with wide disbelieving eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d used that much electricity. For heaven’s sake, she’d rarely used the oven and she’d religiously turned out lights as she’d gone from room to room.
But she had used the microwave, she’d acknowledged. And the underfloor heating system was expensive. A neighbour had warned her of that. But seeing what she’d owed in black and white had really scared her. The fact that it had been the heaviest season of the year had been no consolation at all.
That was why, when Cary had rung two days later, asking her if she’d reconsidered, she’d given in to his persuasion. The figure he’d offered her for four days work had been impossible to refuse. She’d known it would pay her immediate bills and leave her a little bit over. Possibly enough to survive until she got a proper job.
All the same, as Cary turned off the A30