looking at Tessa intently, wanting to convey her enormous sympathy and concern. Her face was full of compassion, her eyes warm and loving. ‘I’m here for you, whatever you need. You only have to ask.’
Tessa nodded, attempted a smile. It faltered instantly, but she managed to say, ‘Thanks, India, I’m glad you’re here.’
Watching India commiserate with Tessa, Evan couldn’t help thinking how very much alike they looked, like sisters actually, as if turned out from the same mould. It was apparent they were closely related; both had silver-gilt hair and silvery-grey luminous eyes, pale complexions and delicately-wrought faces. They were lovely looking in a soft, feminine way, and she knew their striking resemblance to each other came from their genes, their shared Fairley bloodline.
Evan had also heard the family legend that their great-great-grandmother Adele Fairley had been a famous beauty – stunning, elegant, aristocratic, and possibly slightly mad. And that it was from her that these two had inherited their unique silver-blonde hair and extraordinary eyes, as well as their angelic faces. Even little Adele had the same looks. She was part Fairley, and to Evan she did not appear to be anything at all like a Harte. The thought of the missing child made her shrivel inside, and she felt a sudden chill sweep over her. Involuntarily, she shivered. What if Adele were in some kind of danger? Everyone had mentioned Mark, or a kidnapper looking for money, but hadn’t anyone thought of a paedophile?
Immediately Evan shoved that thought aside, it was too awful to contemplate. She glanced across at Linnet, who was a true Harte with her halo of red hair, green eyes and dynamic personality. Gideon had the same Harte colouring and upbeat attitude. Evan couldn’t help but admire Linnet this afternoon. She had taken charge in a quiet but confident way and was handling everything with true diplomacy and efficiency. Not only did she convey great positiveness, she had managed somehow to keep Tessa calm. Evan knew how much the latter was suffering; furthermore, Tessa was at a loss, had no idea what to do, which was so unlike her.
Linnet’s cell phone began to ring and she got up, walked over to one of the tall windows, stood talking for a moment, and Evan knew it was Julian on the other end. Linnet had asked her to be a bridesmaid at her marriage to Julian in the winter, and she had been thrilled to accept. Gideon was to be best man and India the other bridesmaid.
Her eyes wandered around the upstairs parlour … Linnet had once explained to her that this had been Emma Harte’s favourite room, and she understood the reasons why. It was lovely, gracious, charming, and spacious, with a high ceiling and tall leaded windows. There was a carved mantel over the fireplace and the walls were a sunny daffodil colour. Two large comfortable sofas were covered in a floral chintz fabric vibrant with scarlet and blues, greens and pinks on a pale yellow background. The Aubusson rug underfoot was obviously rare, a valuable antique, as were the pieces of furniture made of mellow, ripe woods. Linnet had also explained that over the years the room had never changed in its decor; it was simply refurbished with the same fabrics and colours for a sense of continuity and as a reflection of Emma’s great taste.
Evan loved art and she was particularly interested in English landscapes, and for a moment her gaze rested on the museum-quality Turner hanging on a side wall, then it swung to the oil painting above the mantelpiece. This was of Paul McGill, the love of Emma’s life; he was wearing an army officer’s uniform and it had apparently been painted in the First World War. What a handsome man he was, she thought. No wonder Emma had succumbed to his charms.
‘Evan, let’s go down to the kitchen and rustle up a pot of tea,’ Linnet said. ‘And Margaret will make us some smoked salmon sandwiches. I’m starved. I didn’t have lunch.’
Evan sat up with a start, brought out of her reverie by Linnet’s voice. ‘Okay!’ she answered at once, jumping up, moving across the floor swiftly, hating to be caught offguard in this way.
‘What about you, Tessa?’ Linnet asked.
‘I couldn’t eat a thing! Food would choke me!’ she cried, shaking her head almost violently.
‘India? Do you want something, darling?’ Linnet’s auburn brow lifted questioningly.
Her cousin nodded. ‘Tea with lemon would be nice, and so would a smoked salmon sandwich. Thanks.’
‘I thought you’d had lunch,’ Linnet murmured, and then stopped short. ‘Oh, but you never finished it, did you? Instead you drove here.’ Linnet stared hard at India but her face was quite expressionless.
‘That’s correct,’ India responded evenly, her own face as blank as her cousin’s. But she couldn’t help wondering if Linnet had guessed she had been with Dusty at lunchtime. No matter; Linnet was always on her side whatever she did.
Jack Figg was seated at the large Georgian desk in the panelled library, his eyes on the papers spread out in front of him.
After a moment he lifted his eyes and looked across at Linnet, who was seated on the sofa with Tessa. She was grim and intent, but holding her own as he knew she would. It was Tessa he was worried about.
She looked as though she would pass out at any moment; her face was stark, chalky, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed from weeping. He fully understood how anguished and worried she was, and his heart went out to her. Apart from being a kind and compassionate man, he had once lost a child to death and his grief had been searing, a sorrow he could not endure. Now he prayed that Adele was alive. Instinctively he felt that she was, and he wanted more than anything else to trust in those instincts. God damn it, she has to be alive, he thought, willing it to be so.
Seated on the other sofa near the fireplace were India Standish, whom he had known since she was a child, and Evan Hughes, the newcomer to the family, recently-discovered, and another great-granddaughter of Emma. He could see the concern on their faces as well, and he knew that all of these four young women had been waiting for hours to get an update on the situation from him.
So had young Emsie and Desmond, who had rushed after him when he had traversed the estate with Wiggs and Joe earlier. They were now sitting on the upholstered library fender, obviously being extremely careful about opening their mouths. He had warned them that if they wanted to stay in the library they had to remain totally quiet. ‘Not one word,’ he had cautioned and they had nodded their agreement.
Without preamble he began to speak, addressing himself to Linnet and Tessa who sat together. ‘It’s turning four-thirty, and it’s just over five and a half hours since Adele disappeared.’ He paused, his eyes sweeping over them, then he went on: ‘I’m afraid I don’t know where she is. But I do know where she isn’t, and that’s here at Pennistone Royal. She’s not in the fields, the meadows, the woods or the gardens, which have all been thoroughly scoured. And I’ve even had Wiggs drag the pond. Fortunately, all he found were weeds. Nor has Adele been seen in Pennistone Royal village, although two or three people did notice a black Mercedes driving through at high speed around lunchtime. That’s obviously the same car which was seen here in the drive by Wiggs and the stable lads.’
‘What about Mark? What about Mark?’ Tessa cried excitedly, repeating herself, and clutching the rag doll to her, as she had done on and off during the day. ‘Have you tried to find him?’
‘I have indeed,’ Jack responded softly. ‘I spoke to his secretary who told me he had taken a few days off –’
‘He came up here to grab Adele!’ Tessa interrupted, her voice rising. ‘I bet anything he’s in Yorkshire. With Jonathan Ainsley. They’re in this together.’ She looked agitated, and her eyes flared.
‘He could be up here, of course,’ Jack said, ‘but
