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‘And this is Jenny, who cooks for us, and Christine, my grandmother’s companion.’ The two elderly women bobbed their heads smilingly. ‘And to keep this house of females in order I rely on the very capable services of John.’ He shook the ageing butler’s hand as he spoke. ‘How is she, John?’
‘Looking forward to seeing you, sir.’ John was obviously of the old school, Fabia reflected silently as the tall elderly man bowed his head to her solemnly, his face carefully polite. Somehow he seemed the odd one out in this atmosphere of easy informality where even the dogs seemed part of one huge family.
She had a moment’s vivid recollection of Robin’s coldness with what he termed ‘inferiors’, which had frequently bordered on rudeness. It had been one of the many things which she had pushed to the back of her mind at the time, dazzled and bewitched as she had been, but which had made perfect sense after the event.
‘We’d better go straight in or else she’ll be complaining we’ve kept her waiting,’ Alex said smilingly to John, who nodded approvingly, a slight smile touching the severe line of his thin mouth.
‘Very wise, sir.’
‘Hey, behave, you two.’ He stopped after two steps, his hand holding Fabia’s arm, and turned to the two dogs, who had slunk behind them ingratiatingly. ‘You know you aren’t allowed in the drawing-room. Take them into my sitting-room, John—I’ll be along in a few minutes.’
‘Very good, sir.’ When John, the dogs and the three women had disappeared, making the huge hall even larger, he turned to her, his eyes warm, his arms slipping casually round her waist.
‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ he asked softly, his gaze drifting to her mouth and then back to her wide-eyed stare as she struggled to take in the opulence of her surroundings.
‘No, they seem very nice,’ she said weakly.
‘Salt of the earth,’ he agreed immediately. ‘They’ve all been with my grandmother for years, John since she came to the house as a young and very nervous bride some sixty-five years ago, although he was just a kitchen boy then. He’s absolutely devoted to her although she plagues him unmercifully.’
‘Is that all the household?’ she asked as he walked with her along the hall, pausing in front of a pair of beautifully carved oak doors with curving, ornate brass handles.
‘No.’ He looked down at her slowly. ‘With a house this size it takes some upkeep, so there are a couple of women who come in from the village a few times a week to clean and then two gardeners who double as chauffeurs when necessary. They don’t live in.’
‘Oh.’ Her voice was flat.
‘You knew my financial situation, Fabia,’ he said softly, lifting her chin so her gaze was forced to meet his. ‘What did you expect?’ His eyes raked her troubled face intently.
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head distractedly. ‘It’s just so... I don’t know if I can be what you want me to be for your grandmother.’ Blue eyes met gold defiantly.
‘I want you to be yourself,’ he said firmly, his eyes hooded. ‘And don’t forget this is an estate that has been in the Cade family for generations; we have no choice in the matter. I would prefer to just have my house in London and the couple of properties abroad, but there it is...’ His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘My ancestors would haunt me if I let it go.’
‘You?’ She paused uncertainly. ‘But I thought it was your grandmother’s home?’
‘So it is.’ He nodded confirmation. ‘But with death duties and other annoying liabilities my grandmother made the estate over to me lock, stock and barrel when I was twenty-one. She didn’t expect to live so long.’ He smiled at her face. ‘Should I have refused it then?’
‘No, of course not.’ She lowered her eyes quickly. ‘And I didn’t mean to pry, this is none of my business.’ She raised her head as a sudden thought struck her. ‘She must have trusted you very much, to give you everything like that.’
‘We love each other,’ he said simply, his eyes fixed piercingly on her confused face as he opened the doors quietly. ‘There’s perfect trust where the heart is involved.’
‘And about time!’ The voice that greeted them was strong and loud, a total antithesis to the tiny, shrivelled-up little figure seated in the massive armchair at the far end of the room almost on top of a huge blazing fire. ‘Where have you been? Gossiping with John about me, no doubt? Don’t you believe a thing that fool of a doctor has told him, Alexander! I’ve no intention of dying yet.’
‘I’ve brought someone to meet you, Grandmama,’ Alex said stolidly, patently ignoring the whole content of the tiny woman’s words as he urged Fabia forward, his arm holding her close to his side.
‘I can see that.’ Isabella Cade glared at her grandson from the depths of the armchair. ‘I might be old and disagreeable, Alexander, but I am not senile! Come here, my dear.’
The change in both voice and appearance as the old woman smiled beguilingly at her caught Fabia by surprise and she blinked nervously, glad of the support of Alex’s arm as they walked down the beautifully furnished, opulent room, her feet sinking into the thick cream carpet which was ankle-deep.
‘This is Miss Fabia Grant, Grandmama; she has agreed to spend Christmas with us.’ Alex’s voice was almost without expression as they stopped in front of the small figure, his face calm and smiling, but Fabia had eyes for no one but the diminutive little woman staring back at her so interestedly, bright black button eyes and thick white hair belying her great age. She looked like an old, and very mischievous, little gnome.
‘Miss Fabia Grant.’ The strong, slightly aristocratic voice repeated her name slowly. ‘And do you work for your living, Miss Grant?’ The lined, paper-thin face stared up at her.
Fabia blinked again in surprise, the formal introductory small talk she had rehearsed in her mind dying in the path of such directness. ‘Yes, I do, Mrs Cade,’ she said clearly and firmly. ‘I am an advertising executive in a large firm.’
‘Is that a real job or just one Daddy has purchased for you?’ The piercing black eyes were holding her soft violet ones tight now, and as Fabia felt Alex tense by her side and open his mouth to speak she intervened quickly, her voice staunch and unflinching. Grandmother or not, she would deal with this herself!
‘It’s a real job, Mrs Cade, worked for by myself for myself with no help from anyone else at all.’ She held the tiny woman’s glance unwaveringly. ‘That’s the way I like it.’
‘Looking the way you do?’ The tone was faintly disbelieving. ‘I can’t believe there haven’t been many men who would have liked to smooth your path.’ The beady eyes flickered over her face.
