Jeffrey Archer - Only Time Will Tell

‘Not a word,’ said Maisie. ‘And from Barrington’s ill-mannered behaviour it seems he was also taken by surprise.’

‘Good evening, Captain Tarrant,’ said Miss Monday, touching Jack’s arm. Miss Tilly was by her side. ‘How good of you to come all the way down from London to see your protégé.’

‘My dear Miss Monday,’ said Tarrant, ‘Harry’s every bit as much your protégé and he’ll be so pleased that you travelled all the way up from Cornwall to see his performance.’ Miss Monday beamed, as a bell sounded to indicate the audience should return to their seats.

Once everyone had settled back in their places, the curtain rose for the second half, although one seat in the sixth row remained conspicuously empty. The death scene brought tears to the eyes of some who had never shed a tear in public, while Miss Monday hadn’t wept that much since Harry’s voice had broken.

The moment the final curtain fell, the audience rose as one. Harry and Emma were greeted by a storm of applause as they walked to the front of the stage, holding hands, and grown men, who rarely showed their feelings, cheered.

When they turned to bow to each other, Mrs Barrington smiled, and blushed. ‘Good heavens, they weren’t acting,’ she said, loud enough for Giles to hear. The same thought had also crossed the minds of Maisie Clifton and Jack Tarrant long before the actors took their final bow.

Mrs Barrington, Giles and Grace went backstage to find Romeo and Juliet still holding hands as people queued up to lavish praise on them.

‘You were great,’ said Giles, slapping his friend on the back.

‘I was all right,’ said Harry, ‘but Emma was magnificent.’

‘So when did all this happen?’ he whispered.

‘It began in Rome,’ admitted Harry with an impish grin.

‘And to think I sacrificed my Caruso recording, not to mention my gramophone, to bring you two together.’

‘As well as paying for our first dinner date.’

‘Where’s Papa?’ asked Emma, looking around.

Grace was about to tell her sister what had happened when Captain Tarrant appeared.

‘Congratulations, my boy,’ he said. ‘You were quite splendid.’

‘Thank you sir,’ said Harry, ‘but I don’t think you’ve met the real star of the show.’

‘No, but let me assure you, young lady, if I was forty years younger, I’d see off any of my rivals.’

‘You don’t have any rivals for my affection,’ said Emma. ‘Harry never stops telling me how much you’ve done for him.’

‘That’s a two-way street,’ said Jack as Harry spotted his mother and threw his arms around her.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ said Maisie.

‘Thank you, Mum. But let me introduce you to Emma Barrington,’ he said, placing an arm around Emma’s waist.

‘Now I know why your son is so good-looking,’ said Emma as she shook Harry’s mother by the hand. ‘May I introduce my mother,’ she added.

It was a meeting Maisie had thought about for many years, but this was not a scenario that had ever crossed her mind. She was apprehensive as she shook hands with Elizabeth Barring-ton, but was greeted with such a friendly smile that it quickly became clear she was unaware of any possible connection between them.

‘And this is Mr Atkins,’ said Maisie, introducing the man who had been sitting beside her during the performance.

Harry had never come across Mr Atkins before. Looking at his mother’s fur coat, he wondered if Atkins was the reason he now had three pairs of shoes.

He was about to speak to Mr Atkins, when he was interrupted by Dr Paget, who was keen to introduce him to Professor Henry Wyld. Harry recognized the name at once.

‘I hear that you’re hoping to come up to Oxford to read English,’ said Wyld.

‘Only if I can be taught by you, sir.’

‘I see that Romeo’s charm has not been left behind on the stage.’

‘And this is Emma Barrington, sir.’

Oxford’s Merton Professor of English Language and Literature gave a slight bow. ‘You were quite magnificent, young lady.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Emma. ‘I am also hoping to be taught by you,’ she added. ‘I’ve applied to Somerville for next year.’

Jack Tarrant glanced at Mrs Clifton, and couldn’t miss the unmasked horror in her eyes.

‘Grandfather,’ said Giles as the chairman of the governors joined them. ‘I don’t think you know my friend, Harry Clifton.’

Sir Walter shook Harry warmly by the hand, before throwing his arms around his granddaughter. ‘You two made an old man proud,’ he said.

It was becoming painfully clear to Jack and Maisie that the two ‘star-crossed lovers’ had no idea of the problems they had set in motion.

Sir Walter ordered his chauffeur to drive Mrs Barrington and the children back to the Manor House. Despite Emma’s triumph, her mother made no attempt to hide her feelings as the car made its way towards Chew Valley. As they drove through the gates and up to the house, Giles noticed that some lights were still on in the drawing room.

Once the chauffeur had dropped them off, Elizabeth told Giles, Emma and Grace to go to bed, in a tone of voice none of them had heard for many years, while she headed for the drawing room. Giles and Emma reluctantly climbed the wide staircase but sat down on the top step the moment their mother was out of sight, while Grace obediently went to her room. Giles even wondered if his mother had left the door open on purpose.

When Elizabeth entered the room, her husband didn’t bother to stand up. She noticed a half empty bottle of whisky and a tumbler on the table by his side.

‘No doubt you have some explanation for your unforgivable behaviour?’

‘I don’t have to explain anything I do to you.’

‘Emma somehow managed to rise above your appalling behaviour tonight.’

Barrington poured himself another tumbler of whisky and took a gulp. ‘I have arranged for Emma to be removed from Red Maids immediately. Next term she will be enrolled at a school far enough away to ensure she never sees that boy again.’

On the stairs, Emma burst into tears. Giles wrapped an arm around her.

‘What can Harry Clifton possibly have done to make you behave in such a shameful way?’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Of course it’s my business,’ said Elizabeth, trying to remain calm. ‘We are discussing our daughter and your son’s closest friend. If Emma has fallen in love with Harry, and I suspect she has, I can’t think of a nicer or more decent young man for her to lose her heart to.’

‘Harry Clifton is the son of a whore. That’s why her husband left her. And I repeat, Emma will never be allowed to come in contact with the little bastard again.’

‘I’m going to bed before I lose my temper,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Don’t even think of joining me in your present state.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of joining you in any state,’ said Barring-ton, pouring himself another whisky. ‘You haven’t given me any pleasure in the bedroom for as long as I can remember.’

Emma leapt up and ran to her room, locking the door behind her. Giles didn’t move.

‘You are obviously drunk,’ said Elizabeth. ‘We’ll discuss this in the morning, when you’re sober.’

‘There will be nothing to discuss in the morning,’ slurred Barrington as his wife left the room. A moment later his head fell back on the cushion and he began to snore.

When Jenkins pulled back the shutters in the drawing room just before eight the following morning he showed no surprise when he found his master slumped in an armchair, sound asleep and still wearing his dinner jacket.