‘Are you trying to find a nice way to tell me that she won’t accept me at all?’ she prompted tightly.
His jawline squared. ‘What I’m telling you is that it’s a matter of supreme indifference to me whether she does or does not.’
‘But I don’t want to cause trouble between you,’ she persisted.
He walked back to the door. ‘I have to go out. I’ll see you later.’
He had ignored her uneasy comments. Kitty had no pleasant memories of Sophie Tarrant, but she had never doubted the strength of Sophie’s attachment to her only son. Jake’s sudden decision to remarry, not to mention his choice of bride, would naturally have shocked and concerned his mother. Plainly Mrs Tarrant’s attitude to her hadn’t changed. What had changed to a quite astonishing degree was Jake’s attitude to his mother. He made no allowances for the older woman’s feelings and that surprised Kitty. Yet should it surprise her?
The forceful, aggressive side of Jake’s powerful personality had grown infinitely more dominant over the past years. Had Liz done that to him? Endowed him with that core of angry, dark bitterness that Kitty had sensed in him more than once? Made him coldly, even callously indifferent towards his mother’s feelings? Or had Sophie done that for herself? Kitty reminded herself that there had been conflict between mother and son over Liz long before she had come on the scene.
She got out of bed, still feeling ridiculously weak and shaky. She found the bathroom across the landing and, although the effort exhausted her, she took a quick shower. She was combing her hair in the bedroom when a plump blonde entered, carrying a tray. ‘Gosh, I thought you’d still be in bed!’
The almost schoolgirlish exclamation made Kitty laugh. ‘Merrill?’
Brown eyes twinkled ruefully at her. ‘Don’t say it. I’ve put on some weight since we last met. People have walked past me in the street without recognising me,’ she confided. ‘I can’t stick to diets.’
Her easy warmth was a pleasant surprise to Kitty. As a child, Jake’s sister had slavishly copied her mother in treating Kitty as someone quite beneath her notice. ‘You shouldn’t be running after me,’ she said gently as Merrill smoothed a self-conscious hand over her pregnant stomach.
‘You’re very pale,’ Merrill remarked. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not quite normal yet,’ Kitty confided ruefully and accepted the tray.
Merrill took a seat on the blanket chest by the wall. ‘You should be better in time for the wedding,’ she quipped.
Kitty glanced up uncertainly. ‘How do you feel about that? You can be frank.’
Merrill grimaced. ‘Lord, when we were children, I must have been even more hideous to you than I remember for you to ask that. Whatever makes Jake happy makes me happy.’
‘But you must be surprised…’
Merrill grinned. ‘No, I have to say that I’m not. That’s probably because when we were younger I always expected you and Jake to end up together…’ Faltering badly as she realised what she’d said, she flushed uncomfortably and groaned, ‘How to put your foot in your mouth in one easy lesson. Let me put it another way. If you’re prepared to marry my brother and live up here, you must really care about him. It’s hardly what you’ve been used to. It’s a funny old world, isn’t it? You went out and found fame and fortune and the Tarrants fell on hard times.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘There’s probably a moral there somewhere.’
‘It was bad luck.’
Merrill sighed. ‘Not really. If Jake hadn’t been so determined that the rest of us came out of it all with some cash, he could have kept the Grange. It would’ve been a struggle for him then, but the bank still had faith in him,’ she disclosed. ‘If you ask me, it was his bad luck that he had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. At the time we certainly weren’t grateful to him. We wanted the house and the lifestyle we’d always had and he knew that we couldn’t have both.’
Made grossly uncomfortable by Merrill’s frank confidences, Kitty said in desperation. ‘Do you work?’
‘Not now, but I did work for John’s father as a secretary.’ Suddenly she grinned. ‘How can you be so calm? Aren’t you frantic about what you’re going to wear on Wednesday? Every stitch you own has gone up in smoke!’
Kitty smiled at the younger woman’s drama. ‘The majority of my clothes are still in London. If I phone the housekeeper, she’ll have them sent up.’
‘But that could take days!’ Merrill dismissed.
‘No, I’ll ring her now. She’ll send them immediately.’ Kitty hesitated, unwilling to say that for the right price the carrier would be eager to provide instant service.
‘But you’ll have to wear something special on Wednesday,’ Merrill pressed. ‘Actually there’s something suitable right here under this roof. Jane had our great-grandmother’s gown professionally restored for her wedding two years ago. She had to starve herself into it. The waist is absolutely tiny but I think it would fit you.’
‘A wedding dress?’ Kitty queried. ‘I don’t think Jake’s expecting…’
Merrill laughed. ‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but it was his idea. I’d completely forgotten that it was here. I’ll look it out later.’
If there was a dress available, the suggestion was only practical. Kitty smiled to herself. She refused even to think about how their marriage would affect her father and her future mother-in-law. When she had to, she would face those problems, but not now. Nothing would be allowed to spoil the next few days, she promised herself.
Since there was a phone by the bed, she called Mrs Stuart and made her request for her clothes. No sooner had she put the phone down than she was impulsively planning a second call, subdued excitement brimming in her thoughtful gaze. Merrill brought her some magazines and Jessie came upstairs with a pair of fuchsia-pink trousers and a sweatshirt.
‘Jane left these behind the last time she was here, but you’re not to be even thinking of getting up before lunch,’ Jessie told her bossily.
As soon as Kitty was alone again, she lifted the phone. Mr Barker, who ran Colwell Holdings, was initially quite disconcerted to receive a personal call from her. He asked anxiously how he might be of assistance. Kitty breathed in deep and proceeded to tell him. She wanted a surveyor to go over the Grange and list the renovations and repairs required to put the house in order.
‘I must warn you that you’re talking about a considerable amount of costly work, Miss Colgan,’ he said carefully.
‘I don’t expec
t the entire cost to be carried by the estate. I’ll contact my accountant. There’ll be no shortage of funds,’ she asserted, and then added, ‘By the way, I’m keen for the work to be started as soon as possible.’
She dozed a little, wakening to feel shamefully idle. Tina bounced into her room just as she had finished getting dressed. ‘Jessie’s putting your lunch on a tray,’ she announced. ‘You’re s’posed to be in bed.’
‘Where have you been all morning?’
‘Playgroup,’ Tina said dolefully, sliding a hand into Kitty’s on the stairs. ‘Daddy said I had to go.’
‘You’re home now,’ Kitty pointed out cheerfully.
Tina brightened and asked if she wanted to see her kitten. Jessie appeared from the kitchen, irate that Kitty had left her bed.
‘Jessie, if I lie in that bed any longer, I’ll take root there.’
The older woman frowned. ‘You should still be resting.’
Jake walked in, dark hair tousled by the breeze, and Kitty had an almost irresistible urge to fling herself into his arms. Embarrassed by the force of that prompting, she gave him a truculent smile. ‘I’m not going back to bed.’
‘Fine.’ A lazy smile formed his sensual mouth. ‘I’m free for the rest of the day.’
Warmth surged through her. Tina chattered constantly through the meal and, under the dark onslaught of Jake’s unremittingly steady scrutiny, Kitty dizzily cleared her plate without even realising what she was eating. Jessie insisted on bringing them coffee in the lounge. Kitty sat down on a comfortable chesterfield and looked around herself with interest. She couldn’t help picturing the contents restored to the more gracious setting of the Grange.
Guilty pink marked her complexion. She was being a little premature. ‘Did you sell all the surplus furniture when you came here?’
‘Yes. Sophie wanted to store it but I persuaded her that an auction would be wiser. The proceeds endowed her with a decent private income, without which frankly she couldn’t have managed,’ he said quietly. ‘The family portraits are in the loft. Liz talked me into keeping them, but there’s no room for them here. Sentiment’s rarely practical.’