‘Lisa has explained our financial position to you, I believe, Mrs Allingham,’ he said to Jenna when they all had a cup of tea. ‘Reluctant though we are to part with the Chippendale set, we don’t really have any choice.?
??
‘Please call me Jenna,’ Jenna invited. She felt curiously drawn to this couple, which was unusual for her. She felt drawn to them and yet undeniably she envied them. She suppressed a small inner sigh. No doubt they were envying her, thinking how fortunate she was to have no financial problems. She could have told them that there were worse things to bear.
When they had their tea, they took her to see the Chippendale furniture. It was exquisite, and very well preserved. Jenna could see at a glance how much love and care had been bestowed upon it through the years. The rich mahogany glowed softly in the afternoon sunlight, and the matching table top although scratched was beautifully polished. The seats would need recovering, of course: she wanted them done in the same rich crimson silk damask that was to hang on the walls in the dining-room, but that would be no problem.
Sedately following Lisa back into the drawing-room, Jenna sat down and then asked the Fairchilds what price they were asking for the furniture. She saw the glance that passed between husband and wife, and it was left to Peter Fairchild to name a sum.
It was a lot of money, but no more than the furniture was worth, Jenna acknowledged fairly. She looked at Graham and then said quietly, ‘Yes, I think that’s a fair price, and I’m prepared to accept it.’
A mist of tears shimmered in Lisa Fairchild’s eyes. She smiled wryly and apologised to Jenna. ‘Please do excuse me, but I feel as though I’m selling old friends. I’d never seen the furniture before I inherited the house, but my grandmother and my mother told me about it…I know we have to sell it, but even so…’
On impulse Jenna paused as she stood up and suggested hesitantly. ‘Please don’t think me pushy, but how would it be if, in addition to the price we’ve agreed upon, I…I renovated this room for you…’ She saw the words of denial forming on Peter Fairchild’s lips and said quickly before he could speak, ‘No, please let me explain. As I told your wife I was an interior designer before my marriage—I had my own business in London, and I’m hoping to re-establish myself up here, but the work on the Hall, my own home, is taking so long that I haven’t had time for anything else. If you allowed me to do this, it would help me to keep my hand in. It would benefit me as well as you,’ she continued briskly as she saw him wavering slightly. ‘You’re bound to do a certain amount of entertaining—contrary to popular superstition, people of means do live in the north of England. I could get several commissions from people who see your drawing-room and like it…’
‘Well…’
‘We accept,’ Lisa said, firmly silencing her husband with a brief look.
Just before Jenna and Graham left, Lisa took Jenna’s arm and whispered to her, ‘Thanks very much. I can’t tell you what it will mean to me to have at least one room decent! It’s very kind of you.’
‘Not at all,’ Jenna countered evenly. ‘We’ll both benefit from it, I’m sure.’
It was only when they were in the car that Graham made any comment. ‘That was a very generous thing you did, Jenna,’ he told her softly. ‘Despite everything you might say, you know very well they could never have afforded to hire a designer of your calibre. And before you say another word, I know quite well that you’ve turned down several commissions locally already.’
It was true. Jenna had been approached by several people who wanted her to do some work for them, but the urge to work seemed to have left her. She was content simply to live…or at least she had been, until this afternoon. Something about that poor unloved drawing-room had called out to her, and she had welcomed that call as signalling a return to her normal self. Perhaps if she was more occupied with work she would have less time to worry about her reaction to James.
‘How about having dinner with me on Saturday evening to celebrate?’ Graham suggested with a smile.
This wasn’t the first time he had invited her out to dinner at the weekend, but so far she had always refused, because James was always at home. Instinctively she knew that Graham’s invitation did not extend to her husband. The words of refusal were trembling on her lips as they turned into the pub car park where she had left her car. When they left it had been the only vehicle there, now with a shock she recognised James’s BMW parked alongside it, and even more shocking was the sight of James standing beside it, his dark hair ruffled in the breeze, his face drawn into an expression of intense anger.
‘Jenna…’ Graham’s voice dragged her attention from her husband to himself, and she realised that he was still waiting for a response to his invitation.
‘I don’t know, Graham,’ she replied in a faintly distracted voice. ‘I’ll have to ring you.’ In her heart of hearts she knew she would not accept his invitation, but with James looking at them both with those icily cold blue eyes she was too wrought up even to think of replying to Graham properly.
James didn’t even allow Graham the courtesy of helping her out of his car. His hand was on the door handle the moment the other man brought the car to a halt.
‘James…What a surprise!’ How fluttery and nervous her voice sounded, Jenna realised, deploring her weakness in her reaction to him. Why on earth was she behaving like a guilty wife when she had done nothing wrong?
‘Allingham!’ Graham spoke curtly avoiding James’s eyes, Jenna noticed, suddenly feeling sorry for her friend. He looked uneasy and uncomfortable in James’s presence, and he did not compare favourably with her husband physically either, but despite that she felt a rush of warm sympathy towards him, and a corresponding flood of resentment against James.
‘What a surprise,’ she reiterated shortly, as she got out of the car. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back until later.’
‘The client I was going to have lunch with couldn’t make it.’ On the surface James was completely urbane, but Jenna could sense the rage simmering underneath. By what right was he angry with her? she wondered bitterly. She had done nothing wrong, unless he considered lunching with another man to be ‘wrong’. She wasn’t James’s property, she reminded herself, bitterly angry with him all of a sudden. How dare he come looking for her like this, humiliating her in front of Graham? Humiliating Graham with his totally unreasonable anger. And why was he angry? James was hardly the man to play the role of jealous husband—in order to experience jealousy one first must experience love. Her mouth compressed into tight resentment.
‘What are you doing here, James?’ she demanded angrily, two dark spots of colour burning on her cheeks.
‘Looking for you. Sarah was concerned when you didn’t return after lunch. She said you’d been having trouble with your car—something about the brakes. She was concerned that you might have had an accident.’
It was plausible—just. She had complained to Sarah that her car was giving her trouble. She bit her lip, suddenly feeling at an acute disadvantage.
‘Well, as you can see I’m still in one piece,’ she said in brittle tones. ‘Graham took me to see a set of Chippendale dining-room furniture he knew I’d be interested in.’ The moment the explanation was offered, Jenna hated herself for offering it. Doing so was tantamount to admitting that she had a need to excuse her actions to James, when the reverse was the truth. What need did she have to make any excuses or explanations of her behaviour to him? None. None at all!
‘And were you?’ he asked silkily. ‘Interested, I mean.’
For some reason Jenna felt as though the question had some hidden meaning in it that made her heart beat uncomfortably fast. It was almost as though James knew of her own inner turmoil, of her secret curiosity at lunchtime about her own reaction to Graham. About what it would be like if he ever attempted to kiss her or make love to her. To cover her inner confusion she said curtly, ‘Yes, I was.’ Her chin jutted defiantly as she added, ‘In fact, I’ve bought the entire set—ten chairs and a matching table. It will be just right for the dining-room.’
‘I’m sure, if you say so, it will,’ James agreed smoothly. ‘Since your car isn’t entirely reliable, why don’t I take you home with me, and we’ll arrange for the garage to pick yours up in the morning and look it over?’ He nodded coolly towards Graham dismissing him as though he were no more than a schoolboy, Jenna thought bitterly, while she fumed impotently at James’s side, unable to do anything other than offer a palliative smile as she accompanied James towards his own car.