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Authors: Julia Bell

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BOOK: Deceit of Angels
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“It’s
wonderful,” said Anna, peering upwards. “It’s as though time has stood still.” 

Jason
responded with a chuckle, as he helped Ben to empty the luggage from the back
of the Volvo.  “That’s been said many times before.”

She
followed Mrs Wilby through the sturdy oak door and into the main hall where a
small figure with short, curly hair greeted them. 

“My
dears, you’ve arrived!” she smiled.  “I was getting quite worried.  The travel
news seemed to say there were hold ups everywhere.”  Suddenly a golden
retriever appeared and made its way straight to Anna.  She backed away alarmed
at its wet, inquisitive nose that nuzzled her hand. The woman stepped forward briskly
and caught hold of its collar. “Come away, Tess! People don’t want you
slobbering over them.”

Anna
felt embarrassed.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m not really a dog person.  My mother
wouldn’t have one in the house.”

“That’s
perfectly OK, my dear.  Please don’t worry about it.  She’s very friendly
though, so I’ll put her in the kitchen.”

“Oh,
please don’t do that,” said Anna in alarm. “It’s her home not mine.”

Jason
suddenly burst through the door with Ben hot on his heels. They dropped the
luggage on the floor and Jason flung his arms round his mother, nearly pulling
her off her feet.

“We
would have been here earlier, but we got held up by a herd of cows,” said
Jason, winking at Anna.  He bent towards the dog.  “Hello you old thing,” he
said vigorously rubbing her ears, before gesturing to Anna.  “You’ve met Anna,
Mother?” 

Jason’s
mother gave a bright smile and held out her hand.  “Jason has told me all about
you. I’m so delighted you decided to spend my birthday with me.”

“Thank
you for inviting me Mrs Harrington.  I’m so sorry you had to delay all your
celebrations.”

“It
couldn’t be helped and please call me Margaret!  Now, let’s go into the parlour
and have coffee. Leave the luggage there and I’ll get John to take it to your
rooms.”

Anna
looked about her.  She was standing in a spacious hall, with a marble floor and
large chandelier secured to the centre of the ceiling.  On the oak-panelled
walls were an assortment of antique weapons and there was even a suit of armour
standing in the corner.  By the stairs an exquisite grandfather clock ticked
the hours away. 

This
was Jason’s childhood home, Anna thought, as a boy he had most probably slid
down the banister and played in all the rooms.  She watched his animated face,
aware of his happiness and a sudden thought crossed her mind.  Perhaps her
revelation wouldn’t be such bad news for him, perhaps she was overestimating
its importance to him?  After all, it didn’t threaten her position, she could
still remain his PA and even if she had put herself down as a widow on her CV,
that still didn’t change anything.  Except the fact she had lied.  She
swallowed and tried to shrug away her guilty feelings.

After
their coffee, they all trekked upstairs to their rooms, the hub of their
conversation and laughter echoing round the walls.  Halfway up the grand
stairway, Anna turned to survey the immense hall below her and then continuing
her climb, was surprised to find Jason waiting for her at the top.

“I’ll
show you to your room.  It’s just along the corridor next to Ben’s and Mrs
Wilby’s.” 

“Thank
you.  There seems to be a lot of doors in this place,” she laughed.  “Knowing
my luck I’m sure to get lost.”

“You’ll
soon find your way around.”

At
the door to her bedroom, he left her.  The room allocated to Anna was facing
south-west, so receiving a great deal of the day’s sunshine.  As she entered
the room, she gave a cry of pleasure, for standing against the wall was a wide
four-poster bed.  She made her way round the room peeping into the cupboards
and opening the drawers.  Against the wall was a long mirror in which she could
see herself from top to toe.  Suddenly she spied another door and opening it,
found herself in a wonderful Victorian bathroom with a large cast iron bath
standing on claw feet.  It had large brass taps and attached to the wall was a
matching showerhead.  Anna traced her fingers along the intricately decorated
glass shower screen that covered half the bath.  The sink and toilet were of
the same design as the bath and positioned over the rails were freshly laundered
towels.  Margaret had even peppered the shelves with pot-pourri and bottles of
bubble bath and shampoo.

Anna
left the bathroom and ran over to the bed, launching herself on top of the
duvet.  The mattress was soft and huge enough to get lost in.  She lay on her
back and looked around her.      The room created the impression of days gone
by and it wasn’t only because of the bed, since the furniture seemed relatively
old too.  The carpet and curtains were quite new, she guessed.  But the
wallpaper was a good twenty years old.

There
was a brisk knock on the door.  She scrambled off the bed, tucked her shirt
into her jeans and went to answer it.

“Is
your room OK?” asked Jason. 

“It’s
absolutely wonderful.”

“Oh,
good.  I’ve come to say that lunch will be served in the dining room at one
o’clock.”

She
nodded.  “That sounds great, but I’d love to have a bath first.”

“Feel
free, but be warned! There’s plenty of hot water but the plumbing is a bit
temperamental.  It will probably spit at you.”

“Then
I’ll just spit back,” she said crisply, closing the door on him.

After
her bath she changed into something more presentable and made her way along the
corridor to the head of the stairs.  She met Jason coming the opposite way.

 “I
thought you might not find the dining room,” he said, smiling.  “As you said,
there’s a lot of doors in this place.”

At
the top of the stairs was a large portrait and her eyes were drawn to it.

“Are
these your ancestors?” she asked, gesturing towards the painting.

“Yes,
they are.  May I introduce you to Frederick and Elizabeth Harrington.”  The
portrait depicted a middle-aged man in long tailed coat, waistcoat and cravat
standing behind a chair on which sat an attractive woman with fair hair and
dressed in late Georgian period.  Her blue dress was pinched tight at the waist
and then flowed out in endless silk and lace.  The elbow length sleeves were
gathered with wide, ruffled lace and round her throat she wore a white, silk
ribbon.  Her smile was barely perceptible, but there was a glint in her eyes as
though she was amused at something just said to her.  In the background Anna
could just make out the fuzzy image of the Grange.  “He’s the Harrington who
bought the place.  My grandfather about six times removed, I think, but the
lady is my favourite. When I was a young boy, I would stand for hours
looking...” His abrupt break in conversation, caused Anna to glance quickly at
him. He was staring at the painting with a bewildered expression. Then he
turned to look at Anna before returning to gaze at the woman in the portrait.
“Good God! It’s you. It’s definitely you.”

“Me?
Oh Jason, I don’t think so!”

“It
is you!  Same eyes and colour hair, same face and figure!”

Anna
began to feel cross.  “Oh, don’t be silly!  I’m nothing like her!”  She ran trembling
fingers through blonde hair that was cut in a neat bob.

“Take
a look for yourself.”

She
studied the portrait closely and saw that he was right.  She did bear a
resemblance if a person looked hard enough.  Suddenly Anna closed her eyes in
shocked awareness.

“That’s
why you thought you knew me the day of my interview!  I’m the lady in the
portrait. The one you’ve admired since you were a boy.” 

“Maybe.
But I didn’t connect you at all with this painting, when I first met you.”

A
terrible thought came into head.  “Oh God, you didn’t employ me because I
fitted a boyhood fantasy, did you?”

He
swung her round to face him, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly.  “No, I
did not!  Don’t you dare start accusing me of ulterior motives. I’m a
businessman and I run my business with logic and a great deal of acumen.  I do
not go around making decisions based on whims and speculation.”

“Then
why did you employ me, if not because I reminded you of her?”  She nodded in
the direction of the portrait.

“Because
you had the right qualifications and the right experience.”  He paused
slightly.  “I felt that we would work well together and…” He licked dry lips. 
The time wasn’t right to tell her how she had affected him the moment she had
walked into the office, walked into his life.  He had been so pleased that she
fitted his specifications for a PA and then been bitterly disappointed when she
had turned down the job.  For weeks afterwards he had felt a melancholy that
had stifled his thinking and made him restless.  When he had come back from New
York to find her sitting at Sharon’s desk, he actually believed jet lag was
causing him to hallucinate.  He would tell her how he felt, but he would choose
his moment.  “After all, I was right, wasn’t I? You turned out to be an excellent
personal assistant,” he added, watching her.

“You’re
a smooth one,” Anna muttered.

“Thank
you, kind lady!”

She
knew by his smile that he hadn’t taken offence and looked at the portrait once
more.  “I can see a family resemblance in both of them.  You have Frederick’s
eyes but Elizabeth’s smile.  But she is lovely.”

“As I
said, just like you,” he grinned.  She ignored him and Jason decided that they
had spent enough time looking at his ancestors.  “Come on, let’s go down to
lunch before Mother sends someone to search for us.”

 

Margaret
Harrington put down her cup and glanced towards her son.

“You
must give Anna a tour of the old place.”

“Would
you like to look round?” he asked, halting Anna’s advance on the bookshelf
where she intended to examine the reading literature.

“Yes,
please, I’d love to,” said Anna eagerly. 

He opened the
door and both passed through into the hall.

Margaret
smiled after them.  “She seems so nice and Jason told me how wonderful she’s
been, through Kiera’s illness.  And a widow too.  I wonder if they…Oh, never
mind.  I’m just a silly old woman matchmaking again.” 

Mrs
Wilby chuckled, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.  “You’re not a silly old woman
at all. And as for those two, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jason has got something
on his mind.  I’ve worked for him for nine years and I know him well.”

 

“I suppose we’d
better start in the hall.”  Jason looked around the great expanse. “Although I
must warn you, the east wing is closed up now and the rooms there are given
over to storage and the stables are full of old junk from the farm.”

“When
did the horses go?”

“My
father sold them about twenty years ago. Then the stables were made into a
garage. Now, people tend to park in the drive.”

“I
guess you can ride.”

“I
can, but I much prefer to drive. I find riding a little wearing on
the...clothes,” he chuckled.  “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“Goodness
no, I don’t think I’ve been anywhere near one.  This is an enormous place.  Do
you have many staff?”

“Well,
John and Irene ‘live in’ with their daughter Fran.  They have an apartment
above the kitchen.  We have six part-time ladies who come from the village, but
we have more outdoor staff as the grounds are open to the public in the
summer.”

“Doesn’t
your mother get lonely, living in such a big house on her own?”

“Not
at all.  She’s turned it into a thriving business.  The Grange has been
catering for business conferences and seminars for years.  And she’s just
recently got a licence to hold weddings here.”

“Oh,
Jason, that’s lovely.  Imagine getting married here.”

He
nodded.  “They’re intending to hold the ceremonies in the morning room and then
the receptions can be in the ballroom.  That’s the only room that leads out
onto a veranda and from there a flight of steps takes you outside to the
gardens.  There’s a good two acres of garden for the photographs.”

Anna
looked about her, imagining the brides floating through the grand hallway to
get married.  So different from her own functional register office wedding.

 “How
old is this place?” she said, her gaze searching the ceiling and examining the
magnificent cornices.

“Well,
it was built in the sixteenth century, by one of the noble lords at the court
of Elizabeth the first.  It’s had quite a few owners since then but it was
bought by my ancestor, Frederick Harrington, at the end of the eighteenth
century.”

“He
must have had quite a bit of money.  This place would have cost a fortune in
those days.”

Jason
looked away in embarrassment.  “He was already a wealthy landowner, but I’m
sorry to say he increased his fortune with the slave trade.”  He saw her
shocked expression and nodded.  “I know, it sounds dreadful.  But in the
eighteenth century, Bristol was heavily involved in such business.  My ancestor
jumped on the bandwagon, I guess.  There was money to be made and he saw his
opportunity.”

BOOK: Deceit of Angels
10.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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