Sara Craven - King Of Swords

Julia almost stumbled down the steps of the trailer, and paused, her heart thumping. There should be a law, she thought angrily, against Grandma Pascoe and her kind spreading forecasts of doom. It was all very different from the handsome husbands and football pools wins that the old lady generally predicted.

She sat in the car, letting her pulses slow to a more normal rate, castigating herself for being an idiot. And she hadn’t even left a message for Loy about the trespasser, she realised vexedly, as she started her engine. Well, that would have to wait, because she certainly wasn’t going back.

The yard at the back of the house which housed the former stables and the garages was crowded with vehicles, florists’ and caterers’ vans among them. There was the usual atmosphere of bustle and subdued panic that Julia always associated with the Midsummer party. Although heaven knows why, she told herself wryly, as she slid her car into its usual corner. Everything’s always perfect, and this year even the weather’s going to oblige us.

She found her mother in the large drawing-room, surrounded by lists. Lady Kendrick looked up as Julia walked towards her, her face breaking into a strained smile. ‘Darling—at last!’ She embraced her warmly. ‘But you’re very late. I was beginning to get anxious.’

‘I took a slight detour,’ Julia said with deliberate lightness. ‘And I really wish I hadn’t. She gave her mother a searching look. Had those worry lines round her mouth and eyes, the tension along her cheekbones, been there unnoticed before Julia went away? If so, perhaps these few weeks of separation had been a good thing if they’d taught her to be more perceptive. Lydia Kendrick had always been a highly strung, nervous woman, and the vagaries of life with her charming, feckless but much-loved husband had done little to ease the wear and tear on her nervous system.

‘Is everything all right?’ asked Julia anxiously.

‘Everything’s fine—and wonderful now that you’re here. I can’t wait to hear all the news about Miriam—and everyone. But there’s so much to do.’ Lydria Kendrick gestured helplessly about her, and Julia kissed her cheek.

‘I’ll go and unpack, then I’ll pitch in and lend a hand with it all,’ she promised reassuringly. ‘Where’s Daddy?’

‘He’s rather busy. Mr Poulton came down first thing this morning. They’ve been shut up in the study for most of the day.’

Julia’s brows lifted. ‘Rather inconsiderate of Polly,’ she remarked, using her father’s joking name for their staid family solicitor. ‘He doesn’t usually bother Daddy with business meetings on Midsummer Day.’ She paused. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?’

‘Of course not.’ Her mother was smiling, but her glance slid away evasively. ‘It’s just—routine. Probably Polly underestimated the time it would take.’

There is something the matter, Julia thought as she unlocked her cases in her sunny bedroom and began to restore the contents to drawers and wardrobe. It wasn’t just the uproar of preparing for the party either. It was like some dark and disturbing undercurrent beneath Ambermere’s familiar and tranquil surface. From the moment she’d seen that man—that intruder in the lower paddock, her day had seemed disjointed, her homecoming oddly clouded.

‘Jools, you’re going crazy,’ she adjured herself, as she unwrapped the dress she planned to wear that evening from its protective folds of tissue. Aunt Miriam had helped her choose it, and it relied for its chic on its stark and simple cut. She rarely wore that shade of midnight blue, but she had to admit Aunt Miriam was right when she said it darkened her eyes to sapphire. In the past, she’d chosen floating fabrics and pastels—débutante dresses, she thought with a slight grimace. This elegant, sophisticated model was going to open a few eyes—make it clear that Julia Kendrick was no longer a girl, but a woman ready and prepared to embark on her chosen course in life.

She sat down on her dressing stool and lifted her hair on top of her head in a casual swirl, studying herself, experimenting. The brief knock on her door made her start, and she looked up guiltily to see her mother had joined her.

‘Are you waiting for me?’ Julia jumped up. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’

‘No—no. Everything’s running like clockwork really—as it should after all these years.’ Lydia Kendrick’s voice was pitched higher than usual, and she dabbed at her mouth with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘Jools darling, I shouldn’t be here talking to you like this. Your father told me to wait until after the party—not to spoil things for you on your first night—but I can’t …’

Julia put a protective arm round the slender shoulders, helping her to the window seat and sitting beside her.

‘What is it, love? Has Daddy been backing losers again? Is that why Polly’s here, to give him the usual rap over the knuckles?’

Lydia gave a strangled sob. ‘It’s worse than that,’ she said hoarsely. ‘So much worse. I don’t know how to tell you…’ There was a pause while she obviously fought for control. Then she said brokenly, ‘Jools—your father is having to sell this house.’

Julia had the oddest sensation that everything in the room had receded to a great distance. Her voice sounded very clear, however, and very cold.

‘Is this some awful joke? Because I’m afraid I don’t find it very funny …’

‘Would I—could I joke about something like this?’ Her mother’s tone was piteous. ‘Ambermere has to go. That’s why Mr Poulton’s here. He’s been here every day almost for the past two weeks. Your—your father’s had a lot of financial setbacks. The Mullion Corporation takeover—there was talk of insider trading—he had to resign from the board, although he swears he had nothing to do with it. And that’s not all. Some time ago, Daddy changed a lot of our investments, because he felt we needed more return from our money. Some of the new investments were—high-risk, but he thought it was worth the gamble.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘We lost a great deal—too much. It’s been a disaster. We have to sell Ambermere, Jools, because we can’t afford to go on living here. The party tonight will be the last we’ll ever give.’ She began to cry, her throat wrenched by small gusty sobs.

Julia sat holding her, feeling frozen.

Worth the gamble, she thought. Those words had a hollow ring. All her life, her father had been a gambler, preferring to live his life on a knife-edge of insecurity. There were years when his betting and baccarat losses had been phenomenal. Julia could remember tearful scenes, and an atmosphere of gloomy repentance which she had only partly understood at the time.

Later, it had been explained to her that their income was adequate as long as they lived quietly and without undue extravagance. But that wasn’t Philip Kendrick’s way. Country life bored him, except in small doses. He was always looking out for some scheme which would restore the family fortunes to some fabled pre-war level. He’d been like some small boy, looking for adventure, she thought. But now the adventure had gone hideously wrong.

She said, ‘Why—did Polly let him?’

‘He didn’t tell him anything about it until it was too late. You see, Daddy had been taking advice from some American he’d met in Monte Carlo—some financial wizard.’ Lydia’s lips tightened. ‘Apparently this man’s just been indicted for fraud in New York.’

Julia felt sick, ‘Oh, God—Daddy’s not involved in that?’

‘Oh, no.’ Lydia’s fingers tore nervously at her handkerchief, but her voice was decisively reassuring. ‘Darling, I know how you must feel—but Daddy did this for the best. The costs of running a house like this, an estate like Ambermere, are punitively high. He wanted you to have—a proper inheritance, not to have to scrimp and save all your life.’