Deceived

But that hadn’t been enough for Debra.

Because it should have been Jon next in line—Jon, the golden, the beautiful, the favoured child. Lydie hadn’t needed to be told this. She’d always existed in her brother’s shadow, but she loved him enough not to mind, admiring the good looks and talent he himself took so much for granted.

And yet Marius had been Austin’s heir, who would fill his shoes at Greystones and eventually take over the running of the mill. No alternative had been even considered—at least, not then.

It had not been all plain sailing between Austin and Marius either. Austin had taken the mill which his great-grandfather had founded and built it into an amazing success. The Benco Mill was Thornshaugh’s biggest employer, and the steadiest.

Marius, however, had wanted to move away from the autocratic, paternalistic style of management to greater worker participation. He’d fought too for the latest machinery and office systems to be installed. He’d introduced a private health scheme and ordered a complete overhaul of the firm’s social club, ensuring that it was a comfortable venue for the whole family.

There had invariably been furious arguments but they’d always been resolved. In spite of his protests that ‘what was good enough for my father should be good enough for anyone’ Austin had recognised that no business could stand still and had given ground, albeit grudgingly.

He’d even begun to talk of retirement ...

And then, not long after Austin’s sixtieth birthday party, there’d been that final, terminal, furiously bitter quarrel, and Marius had gone, as if into thin air, his room stripped of his clothes and belongings, his destination a mystery. It hadn’t even been known if he’d travelled alone.

And Austin, his normally ruddy complexion suddenly grey, had made it dogmatically clear that the matter would end there.

It had been a nine days’ wonder in Thornshaugh, only superseded by the shock of Austin’s sudden collapse. Life had become a chaos of ambulance sirens, doctors’ hushed voices and endless telephone calls of enquiry.

In the middle of it all, Lydie had tried to comfort her mother as she’d waited to be admitted to see her husband in Intensive Care.

Debra had turned on her. ‘This is his fault.’ Her voice had risen, cracking. ‘Your precious Marius. This is what he’s done. He’s a murderer. You dare mention him again...’

Lydie had never dared after that. Austin had been very ill and her worry over him had had to take precedence over her own grinding pain and bewilderment—her crying need to make sense of what had happened.

She drew a quivering sigh, and lifted her head from the steering wheel, gazing ahead of her with unseeing eyes.

‘Are y’all right, Miss Hatton?’ The security man appeared beside the car, peering curiously at her. ‘Only I was going to lock up the yard, like ’

‘Yes, Bernie.’ Lydie started her engine. ‘You do that.’ She backed up with extra care because she was shaking inside, and headed home.

Greystones Park was a hive of activity. The gardener was fastening up the last loop of fairy lights in the trees along the drive as Lydie passed, and there were caterers’ and florists’ vans everywhere.

She put the car away and slipped through the side-door and up to her room.

As she opened the door, Debra Benedict wheeled round from the window. ‘Where have you been?’ Her voice was accusing. She was wearing a black silk kimono sprinkled with flowers and was puffing nervously at a cigarette. ‘Didn’t that girl give you my message? Dear God, Lydie, have you the least idea what’s happened?’

‘Yes.’ Lydie paused warily. ‘I know. Marius has turned up.’

‘You know? You mean he’s been in touch with you—you were aware of what was planned?’ Debra’s voice lifted in furious incredulity.

‘Of course not. He came into the gallery just before we closed,’ Lydie said flatly. ‘I thought I was seeing things.’

Debra’s laugh held a hint of hysteria. ‘Unfortunately, my dear, he’s all too bloody real.’

‘Does Austin know yet?’

Debra drew unevenly on her cigarette. ‘Know? It’s all his doing. He’s invited him here—to his birthday party—without a single word to me—to anyone.’ This time her laugh was angry. ‘Simply told me this afternoon there’d be an extra guest. Just as if my opinion, my feelings didn’t count. God knows how long he’s been hatching this,’ she added venomously.

‘But isn’t it for the best?’ Lydie ventured. ‘He’s Austin’s only relative after all.’

‘Don’t be a fool.’ Debra glared at her. ‘You think I’m going to go along with all this absurd “forgive and forget” routine? Start mouthing cliches about blood being thicker than water?’ She almost spat the words. ‘Let him walk back in here and—cheat Jon out of everything he’s worked for—slaving in that damned mill? Like hell I will. Austin must be going senile.’

‘That,’ Lydie told her levelly, ‘is a shameful remark.’

‘Don’t you dare preach at me.’ Debra lit another cigarette from the stub of the last one. ‘You don’t know what’s at stake here.’

‘Maybe I do at that.’ Lydie went over to the wardrobe and retrieved the black dress and the black court shoes with the spiky heels which went with it. ‘Jon may welcome Marius’s return. Have you considered that?’

‘No.’ Debra dismissed the possibility with contempt. ‘He knows exactly which side his bread is buttered. If Marius gets a foothold at Benco, Jon’s going to end up in some menial position or out of a job altogether.’

And Nell would be delighted, Lydie thought drily as she selected a fragile black teddy together with a suspender belt and stockings from her lingerie drawer and tossed them onto the bed. Although she’d probably prefer Jon to make the decision on his own behalf rather than be squeezed out, she mentally amended.

‘And what about me?’ Debra went on restively. ‘Next thing I know that beastly lawyer will be up here again, droning on about suitable provision and annuities. I’ll end my days in some ghastly private hotel on the south coast, watching the price of my shares with all the other widows, having to think twice about everything I spend. Just like the old days.’

Her mouth was trembling, her eyes almost blank.

Selfish she might be, mercenary she certainly was, but all the same Lydie felt a flicker of compassion for her. Mrs Benedict, chatelaine of Greystones Park, was the best part Debra had ever been offered, and she’d played it magnificently to a small but devoted audience.

But if anything happened to Austin the curtain would come down for her mother too. Unless Jon, not Marius, was confirmed as Austin’s heir...

She tried to make her tone light. ‘Don’t write Austin off so soon. He’s a tough old stick. He’ll probably outlive the lot of us.’

She paused. ‘And you don’t know yet—none of us do-exactly what this reconciliation means. It’s been five years, after all. Marius has another life now—maybe—other commitments.’ The words made her throat ache. A child, certainly, she thought. Maybe a wife too.

Aloud she went on, ‘He may not want to come back to Thornshaugh on a permanent basis.’

‘Don’t be a fool.’ Debra tossed her cigarette through the open window into the dusk-shaded shrubbery below. ‘Of course he does. Wouldn’t you?’

Lydie shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea what Marius thinks—or wants.’ Although I thought I knew once, God help me, she added silently.

Her mother’s mouth tightened to a slit. ‘Austin’s made him cancel his hotel reservation and move back here. Actually into his old room, if you please.’ She drove her clenched fist into the palm of her other hand. ‘I just cannot believe this is really happening. It’s like a nightmare. Austin was always so adamant—so totally determined. I thought we were rid of Marius for good.’

Lydie, winced inwardly. ‘He hasn’t given you a reason—any kind of explanation?’

‘His exact words were, “I’ve made a decision.”’ Debra’s laugh was metallic. ‘And Austin’s decisions, however arbitrary, are to be accepted without question.’

The only person who’d ever argued with him was Marius himself, Lydie thought.

She glanced at her watch. ‘I don’t think the situation will be helped by our being late for dinner,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m going to run my bath.’

‘My God, you’re cool,’ Debra said acidly. ‘Don’t you think it won’t affect you if Marius moves back and takes over. We’re all going to feel the draught, my lady.’

And with that she was gone.

Oh, it would affect her, Lydie thought drily a few minutes later as she tried to relax in the warm water, but certainly not in the way her mother thought.

Although there could be a problem over the gallery. Thornshaugh, with its steep, cobbled streets and well-preserved buildings left over from the Industrial Revolution, was attractive enough to form part of the itinerary of tourists drawn to Yorkshire’s West Riding by the Brontë Parsonage at Haworth or the Curry Trail at Bradford.