The English Lord's Secret Son (15 page)

“It was a blessing Daniel told your teacher.” Cate sighed in relief.

Jules pulled a wry face. “I knew he would. He suspected I wasn’t telling the truth, anyway.”

“Your taxi driver has a problem.” Cate was reminded. “He shouldn’t have taken you on as a passenger.”

“I think he thought it was a joke.” Jules tried to get the jovial taxi driver off the hook. “So did the receptionist downstairs. She thought I was having her on.”

“Regardless, there are rules to be obeyed, Julian,” Ashe said firmly. “Rules of good behaviour have to pertain.”

“Yes, sir.” Jules dipped his head respectfully. “Do I have to go back to school today?” he asked, looking from one to the other, hoping they would say no.

“Yes, you do,” Ashe said, putting an end to his son’s speculation. “We’ll go with you. But you have to make your own apologies. No excuses.”

“I can do that,” Jules said, cheering up enormously. They were going together. He, his mother and now his
father
!
It was wonderful,
wonderful
, knowing his father wanted him. His father had confided the whole story to him, man to man. His father had told him his mother, Catrina, was the great love of his life.

That made two of them.

He watched while his mother walked into his father’s outstretched arms. He watched his father bend his dark head to kiss her, a really super-duper kiss, just like the movies. He didn’t mind in the least. Mothers and fathers were supposed to kiss one another.

“I expect I’ll enjoy Christmas in England,” he suddenly announced to his startled parents. “I know so many carols. And there could be
snow
!
Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Mum?”

His mother’s beautiful smile quivered. “Wonderful, Jules!” she seconded.

“Right!” His father stretched out an imperious hand. “Time to go back to school, Julian, and face the music.”

“Okay. I know I’ve done wrong.” Jules held out both his hands. “Can I tell the kids my dad has come for me? Can I?”

“I don’t see why not,” Cate said, lacing her fingers through his, while his father took his other hand.

“I know ‘Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht’ in German,” Jules told his father proudly. “I really would love to be able to speak several languages. You told me my grandfather, my
real
grandfather, could.”

“Then you’ve got a head start,” said Lord Julian Wyndham. “I can help you. I speak a couple myself.”

“Maybe we can take Nan too,” Jules said. “Back to England, I mean, for the trip. I’m sure she’ll apologise for getting so angry. I expect she was worried.”

It was obvious to them both Jules was waiting for their answer.

“We’ll see,” said his mother. “Now, best get going.”

“Face the music,” said Jules, a bounce in his step. He had fantasised about having a great dad. A great dad would have made his world complete.

Now he had one.

CHAPTER TEN

Christmas.
Radclyffe Hall.
England.

J
ULES
CROSSED
THE
great hall of this wonderful old house where Nan had been born. Why hadn’t anyone told him? Adults seemed to keep so much to themselves. He didn’t know why and he wouldn’t know for a long time. But when he’d first caught sight of the beautiful old manor house set high on the hill he had burst out,
“Things like this only happen in fairy tales, don’t they, Mum?”
The sight had enchanted him.

She had ruffled his hair and given him the loveliest smile.
“Actually they happen more often than we think, my darling.”
He had never seen his mother look more beautiful or more happy. She even called him Julian now and then and he pretended not to notice. Anyway, he didn’t mind. Julian seemed to suit him better here in England.

He loved England. He thought London was a splendid city with so many monuments and so much history. He had stood in awe outside Buckingham Palace where the Queen lived. The Queen was still Queen of Australia. He was loving everything, but he missed home and he missed his friends, particularly Noah. Radclyffe Hall and the beautiful countryside were special but it did rain a lot and it was very
cold
.
He had never been so cold in his life, even with lots of warm clothes on, a beanie pulled down over his forehead and over his ears. Woollen mittens. Now that wasn’t
cool
.
The cold wrapped around him but he was starting to get a bit used to it. Acclimatisation they called it. He didn’t know if it would ever happen though. He loved the
sun
.

He missed Nan too, but she had decided to stay at home. Before they’d left she had told his mother she was giving a good deal of thought to marrying their family solicitor, Gerald Enright. He didn’t have a clue why she would want to marry Mr Enright—he was a nice man but quite old—but his mother said they would suit very well.

He pushed open the heavy door of what his father called the Yellow Drawing Room, with a feeling of glorious anticipation, shutting it quietly behind him. It was early morning. No one had spotted him as he had come down the stairs, though he had heard brisk footsteps from somewhere at the rear of the grand house. A row of luxury cars stood at the front of the house in the huge circular drive with all the pudding-shaped bushes his father told him were yews. He had studied with interest the Bentleys, the Rolls and two Mercedes. It was cold enough for snow to fall, he thought, but the longed-for snow hadn’t fallen as yet. He knew it would. He was so looking forward to it.

Passing under the great chandeliers, Jules crossed the beautiful, big room to where the great Christmas tree glittered and shone. His mother and his aunt Olivia had decorated it with a delirium of fantastically beautiful and plentiful baubles—gorgeous jewelled butterflies Aunty Olivia had taken out of storage for this year’s festivities. Many of the ornaments were very old, handed down through the generations. So the tree looked absolutely splendid, even more so at night when all the dazzling fairy lights were turned on. His mother and Aunt Olivia had had to stand on ladders to decorate the higher branches.

Around the base of the tree were swags and swags of presents wrapped up in sumptuous papers and embellished with ribbons. Silver-sprayed bare branches in tall blue and white Chinese pots stood over at the long windows. Bronze deers had been placed beside them. Garlands of silver and scarlet flowers, with lots of greenery in between and lovely little ornaments that included white doves, were strung along the chimney piece of the white marble fireplace. They had all worked hard to make it happen. Even the banisters of the great staircase had been decorated with hanging bunches of green foliage and big red baubles tied with silver, gold and scarlet ribbon. He thought he would carry a vivid memory of that Christmas tree, the first he would see at Radclyffe Hall, for the rest of his life.

Aunt Olivia had a son, Peter, a bit younger than he. They were cousins. Fancy that! Already they got on well. In fact, they had accepted one another right off. He and Peter had been allowed to help. Afterwards, his father had taken him upon his shoulders to place the Christmas angel at the top of the tree. Everyone had clapped, making his heart swell with happiness. He started to think of all the generations of his family, the Radclyffes, who had looked on the Christmas tree with awe. Years after he would be told the whole story. But this was
now
.

Aunt Leonie and her family would be arriving this morning. Other relatives had already arrived. They were house guests in a home that had so many bedrooms it could have been a small hotel. It was going to be one “splendid do!” said one of his father’s guests, a lovely man, called Mr Stewart, who was a famous politician. He was so looking forward to the two of them having a talk. Mr Stewart had promised. Of course he had already confided to Mr Stewart he wanted to be a politician too. In fact, Prime Minister of Australia was his long-term goal.

“So you’ve made up your mind?” Mr Stewart had asked with such kindness and keen interest in his face.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you have a goal, Julian?”

“Yes, I do, sir. I want to live a life that has meaning.”

For a moment Mr Stewart looked startled, then he stared right into the small boy’s eyes, blue like a gas flame. Carlisle eyes. “There’s wisdom deep inside you, Julian. We need men and women of wisdom. Stick with your goal.”

“I will, sir.” Jules was thrilled by Mr Stewart’s words of encouragement. Mr Stewart was a great man.

“And I’ll be following your progress closely.” Mr Stewart had clasped his shoulder as if he meant to be a part of his life. When they had first met, Mrs Stewart had bent to kiss his face. She was a lovely lady with soft, gentle, haunted eyes that made him want to comfort her. He knew now just being an adult there could be sad, scary times. He had already seen most people’s lives weren’t without sadness. His mother had been sad for a long time. Yet she had always said,
“We have to find a quiet place to nurture the spirit, Jules. Try our hardest to be positive.”

He thought so too. What he didn’t realise was it was quite an insight for a boy of seven going on eight. Jules had in fact made a profound impact on everybody. Aunt Olivia had hugged him and hugged him, crooning,
“Julian, Julian,”
over and over, cradling his head. When she had kissed him there were tears in her eyes. Everyone seemed to really like him. And he liked them. It gave him a wonderful feeling, like opening a window on the magical power of belonging. It was going to be the best Christmas of his life. He hoped everyone would sing in church. He had been practising his carols. He knew they were all going to the village church later on in the morning. He believed people should pray. There was no need to bottle up all one’s troubles. Tell God and He would listen. Hadn’t He listened to him?

* * *

Christmas Day went off splendidly. Cate and Olivia had consulted with Cook to come up with a mouth-watering menu. There were entrées and main courses. Roast turkey and roast goose. Jules had never tried that one before, but he liked it. Plenty of yummy desserts, including little meringue snowmen, jolly little fellows, their hats made out of black decorating icing, black button eyes, an upturned red mouth and down the front of the snowman’s chest, a red scarf. Cook had made them especially for the children. They were a big hit. There was Christmas pudding, of course, that was brought flaming to the table. It was all so different from Christmas at home where the sun blazed and everyone ate lots of seafood, prawns, crabs with lovely, fresh white meat, lobster and large platters of different salads. Afterwards, when the meal settled they all headed off for the beach and a cooling swim.

There was a lovely warmth around the gleaming dining-room table with its decorative swag running its full length of the centre. The table was so long there was plenty of room for everyone to spread out. The joy of it all had caught Jules a bit by surprise. His father’s family and his father’s extended family had welcomed him and his mother, tucking them neatly and lovingly into the fold. It seemed to him that was what Christmas was all about.

It was Mr Stewart who put word to it. “‘Remembrance, like a candle, burns brightest at Christmastime.’”

Everyone had clapped and Mr Stewart had said with a laugh, “I can’t take the credit. That lies with a Mr Charles Dickens.”

* * *

Much later that night, when the entire household had long since retired, Catrina and Ashe lay together in his great warm bed, their bodies spooned into one another. Ashe had his arms around the woman he loved, the woman he had lost, the woman he had regained, the mother of his son. He could feel every bone in her slender body; his hand cupped her small, perfect breast like a creamy-white rosebud unfurled. He adored her.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured into her ear.

“How happy I am.” She gave a voluptuous sigh, turning on her back to face him, looking up into his bluer than blue eyes. “Safe, secure, loved. As a family we’re united. What more could I want?”

He bent and languidly, but very sensually, kissed her mouth. “I can’t make Jules into a little Pom.”

They both laughed. Recognition of that fact had set him back, but he was admiring of his son’s firm mindset even at age seven. Julian was having a wonderful time but it was clear after the long vacation was over in early February he wanted to go home.

Home was Australia. Ashe had the definite notion his son thought he, as his father, would take charge of the whole situation and find a solution.

“He wants to go home, Ashe,” Cate said, as if he needed any reminder. “He’s loving it here, but he calls Australia home. So do I.” She placed her hands against his chest, her tapering fingers tangling in his light chest hair.

“So it’s up to me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Darling, I’m not saying that. I’m—”

“You
are
.”
He kissed her again. “You’re so beautiful. Naked you look like a mermaid with your green eyes and long, golden hair. Rafe is thrilled out of his mind. He told me over and over he thinks Jules is an amazing little fellow. So does dear Helena. What makes Rafe happy makes Helena happy. They’re in your life now, my love.”

“I know and I feel blessed.” Cate meant it. “Everyone has been so beautiful to me.”

“That’s because
you’re
beautiful.” He smoothed her tumbled hair from her forehead, pressing her back into the pillows. “Julian told me he loves to draw you because you’re so beautiful.”

Tears swam into Cate’s eyes. Jules had told her that too.

“And you’re going to make an exquisite bride,” said Jules’ father. The two of them had agreed on an April wedding at Radclyffe Hall. Beyond that, they were still trying to work out what was best for them as a family. Wherever Ashe was, Cate would go. Ashe was her world. Only he wasn’t her
entire
world. There was their son. Many of her hopes could well be sunk, but she realised neither of them was prepared to destabilise
Jules. After all, he was a young man with big plans.

“How mysterious is the way destiny works.” Ashe kissed her open mouth, breathing in her sweet breath. “I intend to have a word with Liv and Bram in the morning,” he said, as though he had finally reached a mulled-over decision.

“What about?” Cate’s green eyes, which had been shut in rapture, snapped open.

“We’re looking for a solution, aren’t we? We could have one if Liv and Bram agree.”

Cate sat up in bed, not bothering to pull the sheet over her naked body. Ashe knew every inch of her. “You have a plan?”

“Do I?” He lay back, pulling her down over the top of him. One arm locked around her back. “Well, it’s a practical solution until Jules is much older and better able perhaps to make up his mind. I’m going to offer the house and the running of the estate to Liv and Bram. They absolutely love it here—always have—and Peter can go to the excellent village school until he’s ready to be sent to whatever school they choose. They will act as custodians. I want nothing from them. They will live rent free. Bram will get paid as the manager of the estate. It’s a suggestion I’m going to put to them.”

Cate was too close to tears to speak. “You mean you’re prepared to come and live in Australia?” she asked, as if a great blessing had descended on her. “But what about all you have
here
,
to say nothing of your business interests?”

“My darling Cate, don’t worry. Clever businesswoman that you are, you know business can be conducted from virtually anywhere. Besides, I like Australia. I like the people. You and Julian especially. Sydney is a beautiful and liveable city. I can’t say I won’t have to make a lot of trips around the globe. I will. I need to oversee my interests, which I remind you will become yours. I want you on board, not only as my wife, but as my business partner. Your input would be much appreciated.”

She felt such a degree of relief she nearly shouted aloud with joy. “I don’t know what to say, Ashe.”

“Say, what a wonderful solution.” He afforded her his beautiful smile.

“It’s a
marvellous
solution, providing you’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m absolutely sure I want you and our son in my life. Since Julian is dead set on being Prime Minister of Australia, that is where we must reside.”

It made wonderful sense. “I’m fine with that. But aren’t you taking Olivia’s and Bram’s falling in with the plan a little bit for granted?”

“Not really. This is the kind of life they both want. I think they’ll grab the opportunity with both hands. This house is big enough to shelter us all. It may turn out that Julian will renounce the baronetcy after I’m gone. Who knows? That’s a decision he will have to make in the future. Peter may well become the sixth Baron Wyndham. Meanwhile I intend to stick around for a very long time.”

“And we may well have more children,” Cate pointed out, a brilliant light in her eyes.