The car slowed down, then stopped at the gate. On an imposing blue-and-gold plaque fixed to one of the gateposts Jody read 'Rushwood Castle Hotel,' and a long deep sigh seemed to escape from the very heart of her.
'Is it true?' she whispered to the old man sitting beside her in the back of the cab which had brought them from Shannon Airport. Old Bill was either too awed or too uncomfortable to reply, and in any case, a uniformed attendant emerged from the interior of an ivy-clad stone lodge to ask if they were staying in the hotel.
'I'm Miss Jody Hendrick, and I'm expected.' Jody leant towards the open window to scan the man's weather-worn face. He was smiling suddenly, examining her with interest.
'Of course, Miss Hendrick.' The gate swung open for the car to enter the long, curving tree-lined driveway to the castle.
'Have you ever seen anything like it, Bill?' Fleetingly a sense of unease cast a shadow over Jody's previous excitement, and her stomach muscles were twisting themselves into hard little knots. There was still no answer from the man in the corner. He just sat there looking inexpressibly uncomfortable in the smart grey suit he was wearing, and several times Jody had seen him running a bony finger inside the collar of his immaculate white shirt. For the whole hour and a half in the airplane he had sat erect, just as if he were confined within a straitjacket and could not move.
'I daresay I shan't like it,' he sighed at last as the car bowled along the avenue of trees to skirt a picturesque golf course where several of the hotel guests were playing, their holiday clothes bright and colourful in the sunshine. Massive trees abounded all over the beautiful grounds, and as the car drew closer to the magnificent castellated mansion, the gleaming island-studded waters of Lough Corrib came into view, set against the dramatic backdrop of the mountains of Connemara to the west. Jody gasped audibly, and even Old Bill stirred himself to show interest.
'I can't believe it's really happening,' breathed Jody, clutching her handbag as if in the gesture she would find support. 'How has it all happened, Bill, and to me?' It was natural that she should think of the house in which she lived and which now belonged to Rochelle, and it was natural that she should compare the two. And of course, there was no comparison.
The car swung over a cut-stone bridge across the shining river, then passed through a high, turreted gateway before coming to a smooth halt outside the impressive front entrance to the hotel.
'Perhaps I shall like it after all,' conceded Bill, but there was little enthusiasm in his voice, and he did decide to add, 'But I don't know why I let you persuade me to come on this visit, little Jody, seeing it's only for a day or so.'
'I couldn't come alone,' she said reasonably. 'Besides, Mr. Thorpe, the solicitor, said I ought to have someone with me.'
'You could have waited till Rochelle was home, and she could have come. She has the sort of business head I think you'll need when dealing with this Irish fellow. They're a wild lot, and they keep their women under-that's a known fact, even in these days of women's liberation, and I'm worried, lass, that you'll be browbeaten by this man who owns the other half of this hotel. He'll not like the idea of a female partner, especially a child like you!'
Jody was worried too, but she had no intention of admitting it, either to Old Bill or to anyone else. But if she had it to do over again, she most certainly would have waited those few extra days so that she could have asked Rochelle to come over here with her. It had been an impulsive decision made simply because she had her back to the wall, her frightened mind a surging mass of chaotic thoughts and ideas as to what she must do about her future. Out of the blue the letter had arrived, and she found she was the owner of half a castle. It was nothing less than a miracle, and Jody had acted impetuously, half-fearing that if she delayed, the whole thing would turn out to be a dream. And in this state of urgency it never crossed her mind to wait for Rochelle's return.
Poor Bill, she mused as she slid from the taxi onto the gravel. He had certainly taken some persuading, because, like Jody herself, he had never flown in an airplane. But she had been strong in her insistence, assuring him of a home and security for the rest of his life, and at last he had succumbed. But to get him into the suit was something else, and even now, when she was filled with trepidation about the forthcoming meeting with her partner, Jody had to smile at the recollection of Old Bill's face when she presented him with the new clothes, which she had bought out of the legacy.
She turned to look at him as he walked from the car towards the massive oak door of the main entrance which led into the lobby of the hotel. There was a sombre air about him, a woebegone expression in his pale watery eyes. And he was limping in the shining new shoes he wore.
'Do you think I could change?' he asked, one eye watching the driver as he took out the two brand-new suitcases, the smaller of which was Old Bill's. 'I'd be more myself in my own clothes.'
'You can't change yet,' broke in Jody, wishing now that she hadn't let him bring all those old clothes with him. But, like her, he had been insistent-and to the point of blackmail; it had become a case of 'let me bring my clothes or I don't come.'
Jody paid the taxi driver, then stood for a space taking stock of her surroundings, a sort of awed wonderment pervading her senses when eventually she lifted her eyes to scan the magnificent spectacle of the castle itself. It was beautiful, but she realised at once that only part of it was really ancient. Several additions had been made, but with both delicacy and finesse, so that the whole blended harmoniously, perfect in structure and style. A great thrill of pleasure rose to erase all her misgivings. It still seemed impossible that she owned half of so valuable an establishment, but Mr. Thorpe had convinced her that it was so.
'The porter's taking our luggage in.' Old Bill's voice recalled her, and she turned to follow the uniformed man into the lobby. Although dazed by all the elegance and splendour, she managed to retain her composure, to hold on to a part of that serene detachment which had come to her when she had fully realised that her future was safe, that she had a home to go to, and security as well.
Nevertheless, it was inevitable that she should feel small and faintly unsure of herself as she stood under the towering, ornately stuccoed ceiling, waiting for the receptionist to come to her. Tall and smiling, he asked her name, and showed no real surprise when she told him.
'Mr. Blake is expecting you, Miss Hendrick…' He paused as his eyes lit on Old Bill, standing there on one foot, the other pressed against the back of his leg, an expression of acute discomfort on his lined and pallid face. 'This is the gentleman who came with you?'
'Yes, Mr. Stephenson. My solicitor phoned to tell you I'd have my friend with me. Can he be shown to his room at once, please?'
'Of course, Miss Hendrick,' agreed the man respectfully. 'But first, I have instructions to show you into Mr. Blake's office the moment you arrive. My colleague will see to Mr. Stephenson.' Not a muscle moved in the man's face as he glanced at Old Bill, an almost ludicrous figure against the grace and elegance of what once had been the great hall of the castle.
'Thank you.' Jody smiled, and turning to Old Bill, said, 'You'll be all right in a few minutes. But if you change your clothes, then don't leave your room, will you?'
'I wouldn't think of it-not in my ordinary clothes and shoes.'
There was a twinkle in his eyes now that made Jody say, 'You didn't bring those old shoes you were wearing the other day, surely?'
'They're very comfortable, with those holes in the toes-'
'If you will come this way, Miss Hendrick, I will take you to Mr. Blake.'
Jody swung around, said a swift word to Old Bill, then followed the receptionist through the lobby into a wide corridor towards a door at the far end. Her heart began to race as she waited a few seconds after the man had knocked on the heavy studded door.
'Come in.'
Jody knew a moment of panic as the man opened the door, but she managed to go forward quite steadily on legs that had become suddenly weak. The man announced her and withdrew.
Although she had naturally tried to form a picture of what her partner would look like, and decided he would be a cultured, aristocratic gentleman, Jody was totally unprepared for the superlative quality of looks and physique which met her eyes as, having risen from his chair and moved so that the massive oak desk would not be between them, Conor Blake stood there looking down at her from his impressive height. Feeling somewhat disorganised by his air of superiority and self-assurance, Jody swallowed nervously and waited for him to speak. But he seemed keenly interested in everything about her as his eyes, dark as a weathered meteorite, took in the delicate contours of her face, the clear high forehead above perfectly arched brows, the big brown eyes framed by thick curling lashes. Jody coloured beneath the cool, measured glance as Conor Blake's eyes roved, slowly and almost sensuously, over the curves of her body. She was not used to men, much less to their interest, and she felt stripped, with an almost irrepressible urge to run to the window and wrap one of the crimson velvet drapes about her body, hiding it from his probing search. Instead, she found herself making her own examination, aware of a long lean frame beneath perfectly cut grey slacks and a matching jacket cut on casual lines, of a deeply bronzed face with features finely chiselled and severe, the high cheekbones lending prominence to the hollows beneath them and to the hard, inflexible lines of the jaw and thrusting chin. She noticed strands of grey in his dark brown hair and wondered how old he was. Twenty-nine or thirty, she estimated, even though he looked older. Her eyes fell to his hand, resting on the back of a chair; muscular and sensitive like that of a pianist, she thought, aware of the startling contrast between its colour and the snow-white cuff of his shirt peeping from beneath the sleeve of the jacket. He spoke at last, apparently having seen all he wished to see.
'Miss Hendrick, I am Conor Blake.' He extended a hand to take hers; its crushing strength bound her slender fingers together for a few seconds after her hand was released. 'I trust you had a pleasant and uneventful flight from London?' The soft Irish brogue was far more pronounced than Jody had expected; it was a sudden delight to her sensitive ears, and somehow, her whole being was affected by it. The man was formidable, there was no doubt in her mind, but with a voice like that… Yes, her whole being was affected, and the little tug at her heart was beyond comprehension.
'Yes, thank you,' she answered shyly. 'It was a very smooth flight indeed, although we were delayed for an hour in London.'
'Sit down,' he invited, bypassing her comment. He indicated a chair, and she perched herself right on the edge, folding her hands together on her lap. 'Can I get you a drink of something?'
Jody shook her head. She felt constrained, touched by a sense of inadequacy. 'I'm not thirsty, thank you.'
'In that case,' he said, returning to his chair on the opposite side of the desk, 'we can begin to talk.' He sat down, and Jody was rather glad, because he tended to unnerve her, towering above her like that. She had never seen anyone quite so tall. Rochelle would like him, she mused idly, because Rochelle always went for tall men, being rather above average height herself. 'First, I must say that you are very young to have inherited so valuable a share in an hotel like this.'
'I'm eighteen,' she submitted, feeling inadequate and gauche.
'Eighteen?' with a lift of his eyebrows that might or might not have denoted mocking amusement, and Jody averted her face. How much more capable Rochelle would have been of handling this situation, she thought, again regretting her impulsiveness in coming here so quickly. 'Well, eighteen or no, you are my partner.' Conor seemed to sigh inwardly, and Jody could very well understand his feelings.
'I shan't be much good to you in helping to run this hotel, shall I?' she said, speaking her thoughts aloud.
'With the staff I have, the hotel runs very smoothly. There is no need for you to have anything to do with the managing of it.' Abrupt the voice all at once, and that attractive brogue seemed almost lost. Jody looked at him across the desk; she saw the firm set of his mouth, the dark gleam of determination and authority in his eyes. It would never do to come into collision with him, she thought, but had no desire to do so anyway. 'I don't know how much your solicitor told you,' he said, and looked interrogatingly at her, but for the present he gave her no chance to reply as he continued, 'I've been in constant touch with Mr. Thorpe since your great-uncle's death. In fact, it was I who engaged him to find the woman to whom Austin O'Rourke had left his share of Rushwood Castle Hotel. Austin knew he had a niece, but he had no idea she was dead, nor that she had a child. However, you were soon found, and as I've said, I have been in constant touch with Mr. Thorpe.'
'So you know my background? I did tell him a good deal, and I suppose he told you?'
Conor Blake nodded his head. 'We had a long telephone conversation the day you called to see him in answer to his letter.' Conor paused, and a slight frown crossed his forehead. Jody thought of Old Bill's prediction that he would not be happy with a female partner and that he might browbeat her, but as yet there had been no sign either that he resented her or that he meant to intimidate her in any way. She had the impression that he'd had an excellent rapport with her great-uncle, Austin O'Rourke, and in consequence he had to be gracious towards his heir. 'Until I was told of your present plight, I had it in mind to suggest that you stay in England and leave the management to me, and I'd send you your share every half-year. However, in view of your having to leave your home, it's best that you come to live here. You can take over Austin's private suite. It's at the end of the building and looks out onto the lough and its islands. You'll like it. It's one of the most luxurious and charming suites we have in the hotel. And now, you can answer my previous question. What did Mr. Thorpe tell you?'
'He told me that my mother's uncle and your father bought this castle years ago, when it was already an hotel.'
'That's correct.'
'Then your father died and you became my great-uncle's partner. Mr. Thorpe said that it was you who really managed the place during the last five years of my great-uncle's life, because he was in failing health.'
'That's right. But he was a grand old man. You'd have liked him, and it's a pity he didn't try to make contact many years ago. You'd probably have been with him instead of these people who adopted you. But it seems he didn't like your father…' Conor broke off and frowned. Whatever he knew, he was keeping to himself, and Jody silently thanked him for not saying anything against the father whom she remembered with affection even though she was only five years old when he died. Her mother died less than a year after him, and as she had never mentioned this uncle to anyone, it was believed that Jody had no relatives, hence her being taken into care and then adopted.
'I would have liked to know my great-uncle,' murmured Jody at last, a tinge of regret in her voice.
'He was a lonely old man…' Again he broke off, shrugging this time. 'What's done is done, and at least you are set up for life now.' For a moment he appeared to be more interested in the papers on his desk than in Jody, and she just sat quiet, watching him, noting again the handsome, finely etched features, the firm, dominant set of the jawline and mouth, the long-lashed eyes that lifted suddenly as if he was aware of her keen regard. She coloured delicately, but nothing in his expression gave evidence of his having noticed. 'I'm rather puzzled as to the reason why your adoptive parents left so much to your sister and only a small legacy to you.'
Embarrassed, Jody merely said, 'It was their decision and I had to abide by it.' No bitterness in her tone, but a certain sadness of which she was unaware but which was not missed by the man sitting opposite her. It arrested his attention so that his stare was searching and prolonged, and, disconcerted by it, Jody glanced away.
'Well, all your troubles are over now.' Conor spoke at last, in that soft Irish brogue, but in spite of its attractiveness, Jody thought she detected a hint of regret and wondered if he was disappointed that his original idea could not have materialised.
After a thoughtful moment she said, 'I'll not get in your way, Mr. Blake, and I hope you will just carry on as before-managing everything, that is. I don't want to interfere in any way.' The warm flush of embarrassment tinted her cheeks then, because she felt she had said the wrong thing. However, it passed without comment as he changed the subject, asking when she intended moving into the castle permanently.
'I believe you told Mr. Thorpe that the house you live in was already sold?'
'Yes, it is, and the new owners could be moving in within the next few weeks.'
'In that case, you'll want the suite quite soon. It needs to be redecorated, so you can take a look at it and choose your colour scheme. How long will you be staying this time?'
'Only for one night, or perhaps two…' She looked uncertainly at him as if to discover whether or not it was convenient. He smiled faintly, in some amusement, and reminded her that as she was an equal partner, she had a right to stay as long as she liked. 'Then it'll be for two nights,' she said, a smile fluttering. 'But there's something I want to tell you about, Mr. Blake. It's Old Bill, the man who came with me. Er… he was a sort of tramp at one time…'
'Tramp?' with a swift frown of puzzlement.
Jody nodded her dark head. 'I would like him to come here to live. He's old but a very willing worker.' Jody's brown eyes were grave and anxious as they met his. 'He'll look after the poultry and the garden…' Her glance strayed to the window, with its broad view over acres of manicured lawns and flower borders, wide shrubberies and neatly trimmed paths. 'Well, part of the garden,' she amended. 'Er… do you grow your own vegetables here?'
'We do, yes.'
'Then Old Bill will be eager to help…' Again her voice trailed away to silence as she saw his expression. 'You don't like the idea?' A frown had settled on her forehead; she was wondering if she dared assert her rights as part owner of this property.
'How old is this… er… Old Bill?'
'Seventy-six, almost-but he's still able to work, Mr. Blake, so please let him come.' Swiftly she went on to relate the old man's story, and to her profound relief, she saw Conor's face soften slightly.
'Very well, he can come.'
'And you have a place for him to live-a little cottage or something?'
'There might be one vacant. I'll find out.' He seemed impatient now, and Jody rather thought it was because of Old Bill, and that Conor Blake didn't really want to have him. However, the concession had been made and she knew he would not go back on it. Jody hoped Old Bill would like his new job and settle in as easily as he had with her adoptive father. 'I'll have someone show you to your room.' Conor was already pressing a bell on his desk and glancing at his wristwatch at the same time. Jody suddenly felt flat, with that shut-out unwanted feeling she had known at home. Perhaps it was only that she was tired, she thought, turning her head as the door opened and a young girl entered in response to Conor's summons.
