The Journey Home. Fiona Hood-Stewart

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he was chasing before he hooked up with Serena?” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Well, if you do decide to sell, India, she’ll have to content herself with half the proceeds.”

      “I hope that won’t be necessary. I feel we should do our utmost to keep Dunbar,” India murmured.

      “I don’t understand how she ever got this insane notion that Dunbar belonged to her in the first place,” Kathleen exclaimed.

      “Wishful thinking,” Ian replied grimly.

      The party got up and headed to the drawing room, where a cold luncheon was being served. The meeting with Mr. Ramsey concerning practical matters would have to wait till after the funeral, which was to be conducted later in the hall. Afterward, they would drive Lady Elspeth to her final resting place in the little graveyard on the hill, and India would be left to deal with the future as best she could.

      “I won’t have it,” Serena exploded, steering her old Volvo along George Street at a spanking pace.

      “Calm down, Serena. This isn’t a time for nerves. It is a time for thinking,” Maxi replied soberly. Things were not going as planned.

      “What do you mean, calm down? Something has to be done about this, dammit.”

      “We’ll find a solution, my dear,” he said in an even tone. “There is always a solution. Remember, revenge is a meal best eaten cold. And so it shall be.” He gave a crack of cheerless laughter.

      Serena took her eyes off the road and glanced at him crossly. “Well, I hope you’ve got some bright ideas, because except for contesting the will outright—and from all I’ve gathered it’s legal—there’s not much I can do.”

      “You’d be surprised. Let things take their course. It’s still early. Things need to fall into place. In the meantime, we’ll be thinking, watching, observing. The secret to success lies in the details, not in the obvious.”

      His quiet voice calmed her, and she began to think that perhaps he was right. “Stupid creature. It’s not fair—”

      “Hush. Be very careful what you say. Even moving cars can have ears.” Maxi took a surreptitious glance around, as though some device might be hidden in the ancient upholstery of the Volvo.

      “Oh, come on, Maxi, do stop being ridiculous. This is Scotland, not a spy movie.” She veered down Frederick Street, annoyed with the traffic. “I suppose I’ll have to get back for the funeral. And you’re jolly well coming,” she added. “I’m damned if I’ll have her dictating who comes and goes from Dunbar. Who the hell does she think she is anyway?”

      Maxi stayed silent for a few moments as they drove along Prince’s Street and past the Scots monument, where Serena was obliged to come to an abrupt halt for a group of tourists in bright anoraks, waiting to cross the road.

      “I think it would be wiser to placate her for the moment,” Maxi said thoughtfully.

      “What do you mean?” Serena almost rear-ended the car in front as they passed Marks & Spencer. “I’ll have whomever I choose in my own house. I—”

      “I know, I understand,” Maxi soothed, “but you can’t antagonize her. Let her think you’re playing her game. Make up the quarrel with her. Remember, you need her agreement if you’re going to sell. Don’t overdo it, though, or she’ll suspect something,” he added. “Just enough to let her relax. She will, you’ll see. She’s that type, stupid and unsuspecting. It’s often so among the bourgeois class. If you’re intelligent about this, meine liebe, you can wrap her up nicely.”

      “What about Buchanan? What if he makes an offer? We’ll need her to agree.” Serena ground her teeth audibly, furious at the situation. “I can’t believe Mummy did this behind my back.”

      “A mere contretemps,” he said with a disdainful flick of his long smooth fingers. “Nothing that can’t be dealt with, my dear. I think you should go to the funeral and play the game. Be indifferent but not unpleasant. After that, we’ll see.”

      “Are you sure?” Serena queried doubtfully, casting him a resentful glance. “You said everything was going to work out fine and look what a pickle that’s left me in,” she finished bitterly.

      “You’ve lost a small battle. What matters is who wins the war. As long as she believes she has the upper hand you’re fine. As for the American, you’ve already set things in motion by suggesting he come and visit the house. Just make sure you have all the information he requested on hand. Americans like to work fast and efficiently, which could be to our advantage if you play your cards right. He won’t suspect anything since you made it clear you’d inherited the property. By the time any concrete offer is made—if he makes one—the solution will have presented itself, believe me.” He squeezed her hand with a reassuring smile.

      “It goes against the grain but so be it.” Serena shrugged and shifted gears without pressing her foot down properly on the clutch. Maxi grimaced. “I’ll drop you off at the hotel, and go back to Dunbar.” She glanced at her watch. “I haven’t much time if I’m going to make the funeral.”

      “Excellent. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be waiting—and thinking.”

      “Yes, well, you’d better do a lot of that. The whole thing’s most unsatisfactory, and damn inconvenient.”

      “Serena, again, I have to warn you. You can never be too careful,” Maxi urged her anxiously. “The less said, the better.”

      “Oh, all right,” Serena mumbled irritably. Everything was getting on her nerves today, including Maxi. She waited impatiently as he got out of the car, not bothering to wave goodbye as she weaved her way back into the midday traffic, her mind set on her plans. He was probably right. It would be unwise to make decisions in the heat of the moment.

      The image of India, all natural grace and determination, made her swear under her breath. The girl’s very existence was an insult, and she hated her mother for it.

      India sat at the dressing table, pulling the hairbrush through her hair, a wan face staring back at her from the oval mirror.

      Dunbar. She’d never actually thought of owning it, yet now the remote piece of her mother’s world had become an integral part of her existence, one whose future would have to be decided.

      Only when she’d met with Mr. Ramsey after the funeral would she know the truth of how things stood.

      “Indy?” Chloë peeked round the door, and then rushed across the room. The two girls embraced, holding each other tight.

      “Thanks for coming, Chlo.” India smiled at her through eyes filled with unshed tears.

      “You didn’t think I’d stay away, did you? I’m so sorry, Indy. We’ll all miss Lady El,” Chloë said, a quiver in her voice. “Here, take this.” She handed India one of the glasses that she was balancing precariously.

      “Oh, thanks. I can use this.”

      “I don’t think Lady El would mind, do you?” Chloë asked wistfully.

      “Not in the least. She’d be the first to recommend it,” India said with a sad smile, taking a long sip of the gin and tonic before sitting down again on the stool. “God, Chlo, what a mess this whole

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