Winston’s mouth tightened. ‘He’s determined to do it. I won’t be able to stop him.’
Emma gave her older brother an anxious glance. His only son was the apple of his eye. ‘Randolph’s headstrong, I realize that, and so are my boys. They’re not going to listen to us. I don’t suppose there is anything we can do. They will ultimately get their papers.’ She now addressed Frank. ‘Well, at least your Simon is not old enough to be called up.’
‘For the moment,’ Frank said, and rose. He poured a large brandy and brought it to Emma. ‘You had better drink this. I think you are going to need it.’
Emma regarded him with puzzlement. ‘Why do you say that?’ She frowned. ‘And you know I don’t like brandy. It gives me heart palpitations.’
‘Please drink it,’ Frank said quietly.
Emma brought the brandy balloon up to her mouth and took a drop of it, wrinkling her nose with distaste. She put the glass down on the butler’s tray table in front of her, and focused her attention on Frank. Once more she noted his extraordinary pallor. And when she saw the apprehension, now so clearly etched on his sensitive face, it alarmed her. A dreadful feeling of impending disaster struck Emma and she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. ‘Something’s terribly wrong, isn’t it, Frank?’
Frank felt a dryness in his mouth and his voice was hoarse as he finally said, ‘I’ve had some very bad news. Just now, before I left the office.’ Despite the iron control he was exercising, his voice shook badly.
‘Frank dear, whatever is it?’ asked Emma, every one of her instincts alerted for trouble.
Winston said rapidly, ‘There’s nothing wrong at the paper, is there?’
‘No,’ Frank responded in a low voice. ‘It’s … it’s about Paul, actually.’
‘Paul! You’ve had bad news about Paul! What’s wrong with him?’ Emma demanded.
‘I don’t know how to tell you this, Emma—’ Frank stopped. After an awful moment of silence he finished in a faltering voice, ‘He’s – he’s – he’s passed away.’
Emma stared at her brother with stunned disbelief, and she shook her head in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, unable to digest his words. ‘I don’t understand what you are saying. I just had a letter from him. Yesterday. What are you saying to me?’ She had turned so deathly pale she looked as if she was going to faint and she was shaking.
Frank went to kneel at her feet. He looked up at her gravely and took her hand in his. He said with great gentleness, ‘Paul’s dead, Emma. The story came over the wires when I was on my way here.’
‘Paul,’ Emma whispered incredulously, and her expression was one of blank stupefaction mingled with fear. She cried in a tremulous voice, ‘Are you sure there is no mistake? There must be a mistake!’
Frank shook his head dismally. ‘All the wire services are carrying the same story. I checked them out.’
‘Oh my God,’ Emma groaned, her blood turning cold.
Winston, as grey as a ghost, managed, ‘How did Paul die, Frank?’
Frank gazed at Emma, bleakness washing over his face as he sought the appropriate words. But nothing would soften the blow. Frank found himself incapable of speech.
Now Emma tightened her grip, her fingers biting into his hand. ‘Did Paul—? Was it his injuries? Were they more serious than he told me?’ She sounded weak.
‘Well, yes, I believe they were much worse than he led you to understand—’
The trilling of the doorbell startled them all, and Emma’s eyes widened with apprehension and appealed to Winston. He nodded and pulled himself up out of the chair. As he left the drawing room he prayed it wasn’t the press wanting a statement. To Winston’s relief the housekeeper was admitting Henry Rossiter, a partner in the private merchant bank which handled all of Paul’s business in England, and much of Emma’s as well. Henry’s face was as dolorous as Winston’s. He shook Winston’s hand and asked, ‘Does she know?’ Winston inclined his head. ‘How is she taking it?’ Henry murmured.
Winston said, ‘She’s stunned. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. There will be a horrible delayed reaction, of course, Henry. I dread to contemplate it.’
Henry nodded his understanding. ‘Yes. They were so close. What a tragic, tragic thing to happen. How did Emma hear about it?’
Winston quickly explained and motioned to the drawing room. ‘We’d better go in, Henry. She needs us.’
Henry entered the living room and sat down next to Emma. ‘I’m sorry. So very sorry, my dear. I got here as quickly as I could. As soon as I knew.’
Emma’s throat worked and she passed her hand over her throbbing head. She said, ‘Did someone in Sydney contact you, Henry?’
‘Yes, Mel Harrison. He has been trying to get me all day. I was in the country, unfortunately.’
‘Why didn’t he attempt to reach me?’ she asked in a voice echoing with sorrow.
‘He wanted me to break the news to you in person, Emma. He didn’t want you to be alone when you heard—’
‘When did Paul die?’ she interrupted, her heart squeezing.
‘His body was found on Sunday night. It’s early Monday morning there now. Mel put in a call to me as soon as he arrived at the house. He realized he couldn’t hold off the press indefinitely, since the police have to—’
‘Police!’ Emma exclaimed. ‘What do you mean? Why were the police there?’
Henry looked at Frank with dismay. They exchanged worried glances and both men were silent. Frank now contemplated lying to Emma, but there was no point in dissembling. Better to get it over with. He said gently, ‘Paul took his own life, Emma.’
‘Oh my God! No! No! It’s not true! I don’t believe you! Paul wouldn’t do that. Never,’ Emma cried.
‘I’m afraid it’s true, darling,’ Frank said, and put his arm around her.
Emma moved her head wildly from side to side, denying Frank. She seemed to shrink in the chair. ‘How did he—’ She could not continue.
Frank bit his lip. ‘He – he shot himself.’ He did not add that Paul shot himself through the heart. He could not bring himself to tell her that.
‘No!’ she shrieked, losing control. ‘It’s not true!’ she gasped. A tearing sob strangled in her throat and she twisted her hands agitatedly. Her eyes, brimming with shock, focused on Henry.
He nodded sadly. ‘It is true, Emma.’
‘It’s not! It’s not!’ she cried, her voice rising. ‘Oh my God! Paul! Paul! Oh, my darling. Why?’ Her voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. She pushed Frank aside and stood up, moving to the centre of the room. She stretched out her arms, clutching blindly at the empty air, as if seeking Paul, to hold him to her.
Frank
