When The Devil Drives

Simon shrugged. ‘Philip tried to find other markets, but the answer was always the same. Property development was being cut back, and prices kept down. They wanted mass-market stuff people could afford in their show houses.’

Joanna bit her lip hard. It was Philip who’d urged expansion, she thought angrily. Philip who’d persuaded Simon to take on more men, and buy more machinery to fulfil a demand he was confident he could create. In vain, she’d argued that small was beautiful, that they should concentrate on quality rather than quantity, and feel their way cautiously for a while until their markets were firmly established.

But Simon hadn’t wanted to listen. He’d wanted to make money fast, and restore the shaky Chalfont fortunes. He’d also wanted to marry Philip’s pretty sister Fiona, so anything Philip suggested was all right with him.

And at first their growth had been meteoric, just as Philip had predicted. Simon and Fiona had been married with all the appropriate razzmatazz, and the couple had moved into Chalfont House. The Craft Company had continued to flourish, and, although Joanna’s instincts had still warned her that they should be cautious, she was having deep problems of her own, and her involvement in the business was becoming less and less.

I should have stayed here after Martin died, she thought with a small silent sigh. I shouldn’t have run away like that. But I felt I needed time—to lick my wounds—to try and heal myself. There were too many memories here. Too much I needed to forget.

Her headlong flight, after her husband’s funeral, had taken her to her godmother’s home in the United States. Aunt Vinnie had extended the invitation in a warmly affectionate letter of condolence as soon as she’d heard about Martin’s fatal car accident. Joanna hadn’t planned on staying more than a few weeks in New Hampshire, but had become interested in spite of herself in the running of the art gallery Aunt Vinnie owned. She’d started helping out for a few hours each week, but had soon grown more deeply involved, and gradually her stay had extended into months.

If her godmother hadn’t reluctantly decided to sell up and retire to California, she had to admit she might still have been there.

Clearly, eighteen months had been a long time to absent herself. Too long, she castigated herself.

‘We had suppliers to pay, and the wages bill to meet,’ Simon went on. ‘Things were looking really black. The bank refused outright to allow us to exceed our stated overdraft. In fact, they started pressing us to repay some of it. Jo—I didn’t know where to turn.’

She didn’t look at him. She continued to stare rigidly down into the garden. ‘So you turned to Cal Blackstone. Why?’

‘It wasn’t quite like that.’ The defensiveness was back in his voice. ‘He approached me. He was the guest speaker at the Round Table dinner, and the people I was with asked him to join us afterwards for a drink. I couldn’t very well avoid him. We were left on our own, and at first he just—made conversation.’

‘But later?’ Joanna asked matter-of-factly.

‘Later—he began to talk about the Craft Company. He seemed to know we were in trouble. He said that things were generally difficult for small businesses, and mentioned a few of the problems some of them were having at Chalfont Mill. He said he’d been able to help in a lot of cases. That it would be a pity to go under, if a simple injection of cash could save the day.’

‘Cal Blackstone, philanthropist.’ Joanna gave a mirthless laugh. ‘And you fell for it!’

Simon came to stand beside her. ‘What else was I supposed to do?’ he almost hissed. ‘Things were bad and getting worse every day. Our creditors were pressing, and the bank was threatening to bounce the wages cheque. If someone offers you a lifeline, you don’t throw it back in his face, for God’s sake.’ He paused. ‘Besides, Fiona had just told me she was pregnant.’

With her usual immaculate sense of timing, Joanna thought resignedly. ‘So how much did you borrow from him?’

‘Twenty thousand to begin with. The rest, later.’

‘Using your power of attorney from Dad to put this house up as collateral, I suppose.’

‘We had to do something,’ Simon said stiffly. ‘And Phil’s flat is only rented.’

‘Lucky Philip! I hope he’s got a spare room. You and Fiona are probably going to need it. And the baby when it arrives, of course,’ she added, her mouth twisting. ‘Have you warned your wife she may shortly be homeless? Not to mention Dad, of course.’

Simon looked at her uneasily. ‘Why should it come to that?’

‘Because—to quote the words from his letter of today’s date—Mr Blackstone wishes to meet you to discuss the extent of your liabilities to him.’ She was silent for a moment, then said abruptly, ‘He’s closing in for the kill, Si. He means to finish what his father and grandfather began. The old man swore he’d see our family on its knees when Grandpa fired him, and turned him out of his cottage all those years ago. Cal Blackstone means to fulfil that pledge.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s as well I came back when I did. I would have hated to return and find all my clothes and other possessions dumped outside on the lawn by the present Mrs Blackstone.’ She paused again. ‘I presume there is one by now?’

‘No one official,’ Simon said moodily. ‘He’s apparently still quite happy to play the field, lucky bastard.’

Joanna bit her lip. She had only been at home for a week, but it was already clear to her that Fiona was not enjoying her pregnancy, and resentment of her condition was making her querulous and demanding. Joanna, torn between the amusement and irritation which her blonde, brainless sister-in-law usually aroused in her, had decided immediately that the prudent course would be to leave the couple to paddle their own rather shaky canoe in privacy.

She had just made arrangements to view a cottage which had come on to the market in the neighbouring valley when Simon had dropped his bombshell about Cal Blackstone’s loan.

Blind instinct told her to proceed with her own plans. To walk away from Simon and the mess he’d created, and let him sort it out for himself, while she began to rebuild her life at a safe distance from Chalfont House, the mill, and everything and everyone concerned with it.

But it wasn’t as simple as that. Simon had been hard hit by Cecilia’s death, and although Joanna was four years his junior she’d learned, in its aftermath, to mother him with almost fierce protectiveness. She couldn’t simply abandon him to his fate now.

The dizzy Fiona would be no help, she thought ruefully, totally preoccupied as she was by nausea and vague aches and pains all over her body. And Joanna was still a partner in the Craft Company, although admittedly she’d taken little active part in the running of the business since her marriage.

She had forgotten Simon’s propensity for taking the easy way out of any difficulty, she thought, with an inward sigh.

‘So when are you planning to see him?’ she asked quietly.

‘He’s coming here tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Here?’ Joanna stared at him, appalled. ‘Why not at the Craft Company?’

Simon shrugged, his expression pettish. ‘It wasn’t my choice. When I telephoned him, his secretary simply gave me the appointment. There was no consultation about it. She just told me what time he’d be arriving.’

‘I can believe it,’ Joanna said grimly.

It was the first time a Blackstone had ever set foot in Chalfont House, she realised with a sense of shock. And, if there was anything she could do, it would also be the last.

She said, ‘We’ll have to try and fend him off, Simon.’

‘How?’

Joanna considered for a minute. ‘Well—Martin left me some money, not all that much, admittedly, but it’s a start, and there’s the commission Aunt Vinnie paid me at the gallery. I saved most of it. If we can keep him at bay for a few weeks with that, we might be able to raise the rest of the capital elsewhere.’

‘Do you think I haven’t tried?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve done everything I can think of. I tell you, Jo, it’s hopeless.’

‘No!’ Joanna said fiercely. ‘There is hope—there’s got to be. He’s not going to take everything away from us.’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to,’ Simon suggested hopefully. ‘You are rather taking his intentions for granted, you know. Condemning him without a hearing.’

Joanna gave him a level look. ‘I have no illusions about Cal Blackstone, or his intentions.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it time you were getting off to the workshop?’

‘Hell, yes. But I’d better pop up and see Fiona first. She didn’t have a particularly good night.’

Poor old Si, Joanna thought as her brother left the room, his brow furrowed with anxiety. Fiona’s vagaries were just one more problem for him to worry over. Troubles never seemed to come singly these days.

She moved over to the sofa and plumped up the cushions which Simon had crushed. As she straightened, she looked up at the big portrait of Jonas Chalfont which hung over the ornate mantelpiece. A harsh face looked down at her, its expression arrogant and dominating, thick grey brows drawn together over his beak of a nose.

She took a breath. The portrait had been painted in her grandfather’s heyday, when the Chalfont family were a force to be reckoned with in the Yorkshire woollen industry. Master of all he surveyed, she thought wryly, studying the sitter’s proud stance.

It had been soon after the portrait had been finished, however, that Jonas had sacked Callum Blackstone following a violent argument, and evicted him and his small son from their tied cottage. Holding the frightened child in his arms, as bailiffs dumped their possessions into the street, Callum had publicly sworn revenge.

‘As you’ve taken from me, Jonas Chalfont, I’ll take from you,’ he’d declared, standing bareheaded in the rain. ‘Aye, by God, down to every last stick and stone!’

And nothing’s gone right for us since, Joanna thought wearily. Oh, Grandfather, you didn’t know what you were starting.

Know your enemy, had been one of Jonas’s favourite maxims, but he had totally underestimated his former overlooker’s sheer force of will and determination to succeed. Just as Simon had failed to assess Cal Blackstone’s deviousness of purpose in offering to help the Craft Company financially.