Stronger than Yearning

He shrugged. ‘Surely you’re covered for these things under your insurance?’

In a voice that splintered with icy rage Jenna told him bitingly, ‘No insurance policy offers cover for errors of judgement, Richard—instead of saving us money, what you’ve actually done is cost us money.’

‘I am sorry, but I acted in the best of faith.’ He stood up and glanced at his watch. ‘Look, Jenna, I must run, I’ve got an appointment with Fergie Longton at ten: he wants to discuss a contract for the show apartment in a new block he’s building.’

‘Fergie Longton?’ A sharp frown creased her forehead, ‘but he’s notorious for cutting corners and costs. We don’t want his sort of image, Richard. Please don’t accept a contract from him. In fact,’ she looked at him squarely, ‘I’ve decided that from now on I shall sign all contracts myself.’

Anger flashed in the pale blue eyes, but he had himself under control quickly. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he told her, ‘after all, you’re the boss.’

There had been a faintly jeering note in the way he said the last few words that jarred on Jenna, but before she had time to dwell on it Maggie was ringing through to tell her that James Allingham had called and arranged to go to Yorkshire on Wednesday.

There was more than a hint of speculation in Maggie’s voice as she relayed this information and acting on a sudden impulse Jenna searched her diary for the number of the York architects. Quickly dialling it herself, she drummed impatient fingers on her desk. She would soon scotch any ideas that there was a romance brewing between James and herself.

She got through quite quickly and asked to speak to the partner she had been recommended to use. When she explained to him that she was travelling to Yorkshire on Wednesday and that she would appreciate his advice on certain aspects of her proposed alterations to the Hall, he quickly agreed to meet her there.

She wasn’t sure yet what architectural changes she wished to make; so long as the property was structurally sound she would be content to leave the rooms as they were. The warren of passages and tiny rooms that formed the kitchens would need attention of course, and there would be the perennial problem of central heating. More damage had been done to many ancient buildings by the installation of central heating than anything else, but she knew an excellent firm who could be relied upon to devise a system that would provide heat without being either obtrusive or damaging.

She made several phone calls, and by lunchtime she was ready to leave the office to go and visit several of the craftsmen she had rung that morning. In particular she wanted to call on a young couple who specialised in traditional wood gilding.

The drawing-room and ballroom at the old Hall both had ornate marble fireplaces, which originally would have had specially designed decorated mirrors above them, and Jenna wanted the couple to design and produce authentic-looking period mirrors for those rooms.

They lived and worked in a small mews house in Chelsea. Vanessa Hargreaves opened the door to Jenna, embracing her warmly. A tiny, vivacious brunette with a cloud of pre-Raphaelite hair, her gamine features were ruefully expressive as she glanced from Jenna’s immaculate tailored suit to her own faded blouse and stained jeans.

‘Jenna, you always make me feel like a typical scruffy arty type,’ she complained. ‘Come on up to the studio. Alan’s out at the moment but he shouldn’t be long. I’ll make us a cup of coffee while we wait for him.’

The studio was at the top of the house, a light airy room with an easel in one window and the traditional gilder’s tools on a bench in another.

Briefly, Jenna explained what she was looking for while they waited for Alan to return.

‘Sounds exciting—quite a challenge. It’s a pity you don’t have any sketches of the original room. Of course, there are plenty of examples of Adam’s work we can use for inspiration but if you want total authenticity…’

‘Well, there might be.’ Jenna explained about James Allingham.

‘Allingham?’ Vanessa rubbed her nose thoughtfully, and then grinned. ‘Now, that name has a familiar ring to it,’ she teased Jenna. ‘I wonder why?’

Fortunately Alan came in before Vanessa could question her further, and once again Jenna explained what she was looking for.

‘The best thing we can do is to get up there and take a look around,’ Alan commented. ‘Take some measurements, see exactly what’s involved. Then we could produce some outline ideas, see how they take your fancy. Where’s the diary, Van?’ He found it underneath a pile of papers on the floor, and commented wryly, ‘Great filing system we have here.’

‘At least it’s all in one place,’ Vanessa countered defensively.

‘Umm. The first day we could spare to go up there is the eighteenth of next month,’ Alan told Jenna. ‘How would that suit you?’

She checked her own diary and nodded her head. ‘By then I should have more idea of exactly what if any reconstruction work is going to be needed, so that should be fine.’

* * *

There were other people she had to see in connection with work she already had in hand as well as the renovation of the Hall and, all too soon, it was Wednesday morning.

Jenna woke up earlier than usual and lay in bed, trying to quell the unusual rush of butterflies in her stomach. Was she afraid of meeting James Allingham? Ridiculous, why should she be? She disliked and despised the man.

Knowing how filthy and uncared-for the old Hall was, she dressed casually in jeans and a loose sweatshirt top over a fine cotton blouse, pulling soft boots on to her feet. She pulled her hair off her face with a silk scarf. There, she thought, studying her reflection in her bedroom mirror. There would be no question of James Allingham thinking that she had dressed to catch his attention. As she hurried into her kitchen she was unaware that the jeans emphasised the length and slenderness of her legs, the huge sweatshirt giving her an air of fragile femininity. She was also unaware that the casual style of her hair made her look closer to twenty than thirty.

James had made arrangements via Maggie to pick her up and even though she still resented his high-handed assumption of control, she had decided not to object too forcefully to it. Indifference was her best weapon where a man like James Allingham was concerned, and as she gathered together notebooks, pens, a measuring tape and a camera it never occurred to her to wonder why she should feel in need of such protection.

He arrived promptly on the dot of eight-thirty, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise as he registered her casual appearance, but Jenna refused to acknowledge it.

‘Ready?’