mily stood at the bottom of the staircase in the entrance hall, holding the banister, filled with an internal shaking. Slowly the tears slid down her cheeks unchecked as she quietly wept for her brother. He was only thirty-seven. Her mind balked at the thought of his imminent death. It was unacceptable to her.

After only a matter of seconds, the drawing room door opened and closed softly. Emily felt Alexander’s arms encircling her. He turned her around to face him, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped the tears from her face.

‘Come on, Dumpling, try to hang in there. For me,’ he said. ‘I can’t stand to see you so upset. It doesn’t help me. I realize this has been a ghastly shock for you, on the other hand there is no easy way to break this kind of news. How do you tell your loved ones that you’re dying?’

Emily was incapable of responding. Her eyes welled again, and she buried her face against his chest, held onto him tightly.

He said, very softly, ‘I’m glad you reminded me of Gran’s attitude…you know, about just blurting it out. It did help me to screw up my courage and get it said. I’d been putting it off for weeks.’

Alexander smoothed his hand over her hair, and there was a pause before he remarked, ‘I’ve hidden my illness from you for a very long time, old thing. However, it is going to start showing very soon. So you had to be told. And there are a lot of things which must be properly dealt with. Now. They can’t be put off any longer…time does go so quickly, especially when one is trying to hold onto it.’

Emily swallowed hard, wanting to be strong, but finding it difficult. She stood very still, snapping her eyes shut.

After a moment, when she had regained a little of her self-possession, she said, ‘Nothing will ever be the same again, Sandy, not when you’re…gone. Whatever will we all do? Whatever will I do?’ As the words left her mouth she realized how selfish she was being, but she could not take them back. It was too late, they had been said, and to apologize to him would only make matters worse.

He said softly, in a confident tone, ‘You’ll be all right, Emily. You’ll keep going, and with the strength and courage you’ve always had…Gran’s kind of fortitude. She taught you how to soldier on when you were a little girl. And you have Winston and your family.’ A long sigh trickled through Alexander, and as if thinking aloud he murmured against her hair, ‘Francesca’s all right too, now that she’s married to Oliver, but I do worry about Amanda. She’s such a vulnerable young woman, so impressionable, really. You will keep an eye on her, won’t you?’ For the first time Alexander’s voice held a slight tremor. He glanced away, hid his face from her, then coughed behind his hand.

Emily said, ‘You know I will, darling.’

They stood together for a few minutes longer.

Alexander held her closer, gathering as much of his diminished strength as possible, aware that he had a great deal to say in the next half hour. He was not looking forward to it. But it had to be done, and the best way, he had decided earlier, was to be very businesslike about everything.

Emily could feel Sandy’s bones through his clothes, and she realized how thin he had grown. She drew away, stole a quick glance at him, took note of his pallor, the faint purplish smudges under his eyes, and her heart sank. She could not understand why she had not noticed signs that he was ill before now, and she cursed herself angrily for not having paid more attention in the last few months.

Alexander finally released her, and taking out his handkerchief once more he blotted her damp cheeks. A fleeting smile touched his eyes. How blonde and small and dainty she was. She had always reminded him of a fragile piece of Dresden china. Yet she had a backbone of steel, and there was an indomitability about her that reminded him of their grandmother. And he knew that as distressed as she was now, in the long run she would be strong for everyone. He could count on his sister. Like Emma Harte before her, she had grit.

Emily was acutely aware of Alexander’s intense scrutiny. She returned it, said, ‘I’ll be fine, Sandy,’ as though she had read his mind.

Alexander smiled at her, nodded.

There was a brief silence before Emily went on slowly, in a low voice, ‘You’ve not only been a wonderful brother to me, but mother, father, best friend as well. You’ve been…everything to me, Sandy. I’ve never really told you before how I feel, but I do want you to know that I –’

‘I’m very aware of how you feel,’ he interrupted swiftly, unable to deal with any more emotion at this time. ‘And I love you too, Emily. Now we’d better go back to the drawing room, join the others, don’t you think? There are arrangements to be made. For the future.’

‘I’d like to talk about business first. About Harte Enterprises to be specific,’ Alexander said, once they were all gathered around the fire again.

‘Yes, of course, anything you wish,’ Paula answered. Her eyes were red and watery, betrayed her, despite her air of calmness. It was obvious that she had wept whilst her cousins had been out of the room, but she now appeared to be in total control of herself.

‘I’ve had time to think things out,’ Alexander began, ‘and I’d like to share some of my thoughts with you before I come to my final decisions. I suppose I’m looking for your input before I put my plans into motion.’

‘But I’m not involved in any of the family businesses,’ Anthony immediately reminded him. ‘Are you sure I’m not in the way?’ His expression turned quizzical.

‘No, you’re not. And anyway, you’re the eldest of Emma Harte’s grandchildren, and you ought to – ‘

‘Paula’s the head of the family though,’ Anthony countered. ‘And thank God she is, too. It’s not a job I’d relish, I don’t mind telling you.’

Alexander smiled with a certain wryness. ‘I know what you mean. But to continue, you’re my closest male friend, and very simply put, I want you here. Let’s just say for moral support shall we, old chap?’

The Earl nodded, got up, strode over to the console where he refreshed his scotch and soda. He glanced across at Paula and Emily. ‘Do either of you want another drink?’

Both women shook their heads.

‘How about you, Sandy?’

‘I’m fine right now, thanks.’

Alexander waited until Anthony had returned to the sofa before he turned to Emily, and went on, ‘I’m sorry I called this meeting when Winston is in Canada, but I had to have it this week because I’m going into hospital tomorrow for treatment. He ought to have been here, of course, as head of the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company and our Canadian papers. On the other hand, the divisions he runs are not actually relevant to this discussion.’

‘He’ll understand, Sandy.’ Emily leaned forward, pinned her brother with her green eyes. ‘How long are you going to be in hospital?’ she asked, her worry instantly showing.

‘Only a few days, and don’t be concerned about it. The treatment does help me. Now, I would like to move along. Look, I know what I’m going to talk about is upsetting. But please, don’t be upset. It must all be said, and I want my affairs to be in order…a Harte family trait, I believe.’

Alexander’s gaze swept over the three of them, and he went on to explain in a thoughtful tone, ‘I’ve analysed Harte Enterprises in every conceivable way over the past couple of weeks, trying to decide what to do with the company. I considered selling it, knowing it would fetch hundreds of millions of pounds which we could reinvest in the market. Then I thought of selling off only certain divisions, keeping others. And then it struck me how unfair I was being to you, Emily.’

Before she had a chance to say anything, he rushed on, ‘After all, you run Genret, which is one of our biggest money-making divisions, and you’re the only other shareholder –’

‘Except for Jonathan and Sarah,’ Emily cut in, ‘and I don’t suppose they’re of any consequence.’

‘No, they’re not,’ Alexander agreed. ‘In any event, Emily, I realized it was rather imperious of me to make decisions without consulting you. And it was certainly wrong of me to assume, as I did initially, that you might not want to run Harte Enterprises yourself. A few days ago, yet another thought occurred to me…what would Grandy have wanted us to do with Harte Enterprises in view of my illness? I instantly concluded that she would not want us to sell it. The company is too solid, too rich, too important to the family as a whole for us to relinquish it. Don’t you agree?’

‘Yes,’ Emily managed, more aware than ever of what the future without her brother would actually mean.

‘Paula, what is your opinion?’ Alexander asked.

‘You’re absolutely right about everything,’ Paula said, striving to sound normal. ‘Grandy did have very strong feelings about Harte Enterprises. She would want Emily to continue in your stead. That is what you have in mind, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I think Emily should become chairman of the board and chief executive officer within the next few weeks. That way we can make a smooth transfer of power in the company and I can step down. Fairly soon, too, I hope.’

‘I suppose you’ll want Amanda to run Genret,’ Emily ventured.

‘With your agreement. And the one division I think we should sell is Lady Hamilton Clothes.’

‘To the Kallinskis presumably,’ Paula interjected.

‘Yes.’ Alexander cleared his throat, reached for his glass, took a sip of wine. ‘If anyone is entitled to buy Lady Hamilton Clothes it’s Uncle Ronnie. For sentimental reasons, and because of our long involvement with the family for over seventy years. I say let’s keep everything in the three clans. As you both know –’ He looked from Emily to Paula, continued, ‘Uncle Ronnie is prepared to meet our price. I’m not worried about that aspect. My only real concern is that you’re comfortable with the deal, Paula. Whilst you’re not involved with the running of Harte Enterprises, Lady Hamilton does supply the Harte stores and the boutiques.’

‘Uncle Ronnie assured me they would continue to do so, and on an exclusive basis, when we discussed the idea of Kallinski Industries buying the fashion division last August,’ Paula told him.

‘Well, Emily?’ Alexander peered across at her, lifted a brow.

‘Yes, it’s all right with me. But what about Amanda? She loves her division, Sandy.’

‘I know she does. But under these unexpected circumstances I’m sure she’ll understand the necessity for making certain changes, for streamlining the company to an extent. Grandy’s philosophy was that we must be loyal to the company as a whole, not just to our own divisions. I believe that, too, as you and Amanda are aware. Anyway, Genret will be a challenge to Amanda, just as it was to you when you took over from Len Harvey twelve years ago.’ ‘That’s true…yes…’

‘What’s the matter, Emily?’ Alexander asked, frowning at her. ‘You look and sound rather hesitant.’

‘I’m not really. It’s just that I’m not terribly well informed about the real estate division of Harte Enterprises. And that worries me.’

‘There’s not really a problem, darling. Thomas Lorring is my right hand in that division, and he’s been virtually running it for several years. And you know that he has, Emily.’ He levelled a long, very direct look at her. ‘He’ll do the same for you, when you take over from me…and you will, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will.’ Emily sat back on the sofa jerkily, wishing she did not have to step into her brother’s shoes. If only things could suddenly be the way they were yesterday. She longed suddenly for Winston, regretted her husband was not here, that he would not be returning to England for another week. The thought plunged her into deeper dismay.

Paula said, ‘You’ve made some very sound judgements, Sandy.’

He rose, paced to the window, glanced out at the garden almost absently. He said, without turning around, ‘I think they’re the most logical moves, given the situation.’ He remained motionless in front of the bay for a few seconds longer.

No one said a word.

Finally Alexander returned to the fireplace, where he stood with his back to the blazing logs, warming himself.

And then, without any preamble, he announced in a brisk and businesslike voice. ‘About my will. I intend to leave this house to Francesca, and Nutton Priory to Amanda. Naturally the Villa Faviola is yours, Emily.’

‘Oh Sandy – ‘ She stopped abruptly. She could not speak. Her throat closed on her. She blinked back sudden tears.

He hurried on relentlessly, ‘Fifty per cent of my personal wealth will be divided between the three of you, Emily, and the other fifty per cent will go to the children in the family. And not just my nephews and nieces, but to your children, Paula, and yours, Anthony.’

They both nodded their understanding.

Anthony looked away, not wanting Alexander to see the anguish flickering onto his face. He stared fiercely at the painting on the opposite wall.

Paula twisted her wedding ring nervously, gazed down at her hands, thinking how uncertain life was. Only that afternoon she had been congratulating herself on so many things accomplished lately, and she had been happy. Now, without warning, she was miserable, filled with worry and concern, and facing the untimely death of a beloved cousin, who was also a dear friend. The implications of Sandy’s fatal illness were manifold.

‘Now, Emily,’ Alexander proceeded, determined to be done with everything tonight, so that there would be no need for this kind of discussion again. ‘Next we come to my holdings in Harte Enterprises. To be precise, the fifty-two per cent of the shares Grandy left me. I am going to give thirty-two per cent to you, and twenty per cent to Amanda. I am not leaving any of my shares to Francesca since she does not work for the company.’

‘Yes, I see…thank you,’ Emily said in the steadiest voice she could muster. ‘But I’m just wondering…is that quite fair to Amanda, darling?’ She asked this softly, not wishing to argue with him, but at the same time wanting her half-sister to be fully involved and totally committed to Harte Enterprises. After all, it would be just the two of them running it eventually.

‘I believe it is eminently fair,’ Alexander was quick to respond. ‘Grandmother insisted that one person had control of this particular company, to prevent any dissension between us, and that is how I want it, why I have divided my shares in the way I have. You will be the majority shareholder and head of Harte Enterprises, as I am now.’ His tone was unusually firm and uncompromising and it left no room for doubt about his feelings or for further conversation on the matter.

Emily made no comment, directed her gaze to the fire, grappling with her overwhelming sadness, still finding it difficult to comprehend that her brother would not be with them for much longer, that next year at this time he would be dead. Her heart was heavy, and once more she longed for her husband and his comforting presence, the emotional security Winston gave her.

Anthony now spoke up at last. He said, ‘When you’ve finished your treatment, I want you to come and stay with us at Clonloughlin, Sandy. And for as long as you can.’

‘Yes, I would like that. It’ll do me good to be with you all. And then afterwards, Emily, I’ll work with you for a few weeks, take you through every aspect of the job. Mind you, I do believe you’ll be capable of doing it blindfolded.’

Emily bit her lip, nodded rapidly, glanced at Paula, her eyes full of mute appeal.

Paula quickly bridged this tense moment, when she said in a warm and cheerful voice, ‘Is there anything I can do, Sandy? Anything that will make things easier for you?’

‘Not really, Paula, thanks anyway. Oh wait! Yes, there is one thing you can all do for me!’ His intelligent, light blue eyes roamed over them, and he shifted on his feet, slightly changed his stance in front of the fire. ‘I’d like you to keep the news of my illness quiet, if you don’t mind. I really don’t wish it to become a topic for discussion in the family. And I certainly don’t want to have to cope with sadness and sympathy, or be surrounded by a lot of long, gloomy faces.’

A stricken expression settled in Emily’s eyes. ‘I appreciate your feelings,’ she said, and paused. Her voice wavered as she went on, ‘I’ll try not to tell Winston, but I think it’ll be ever so hard for me…’

‘Oh but of course you must tell him!’ her brother exclaimed. He looked at Paula and Anthony. ‘And naturally you must tell Shane and Sally. I didn’t mean you to exclude them, only your children. And yours, Emily, and our half sisters. I don’t want Amanda and Francesca to know – at least not just yet.’

‘What about Mummy?’ Emily asked, worry flaring. ‘Has she got to be kept in the dark, too?’

Alexander inclined his head. ‘Oh yes, very much so. It’s better Mother doesn’t know anything at all. She has a tendency to become hysterical about the slightest thing. She would only upset me.’

Striding over to the Georgian console table, Alexander picked up the bottle of white wine, brought it to Paula and Emily. ‘Well, that’s about it,’ he said, as he refilled their crystal goblets. ‘I’ve covered everything, I think. Incidentally, Emily, John Crawford knows about the situation. Obviously, as my solicitor, he had to be told, and he’ll help you with any and all legalities after I’m…er…when I’m no longer around.’

‘Yes,’ she said in the smallest of voices, and she clenched her hands together in her lap, wishing he would not keep alluding to his impending death.

‘This has been a terrible burden for you to carry alone, Sandy,’ Anthony said a short while later.

Emily and Paula had left together, and the two men were finishing their drinks in the drawing room before going out to dinner.

Looking across at his cousin intently, the Earl added, ‘You ought to have told me before, you know.’

‘Perhaps I should have,’ Alexander admitted. ‘But to be honest, I had to come to grips with my illness first. As I explained earlier, I went through any number of different emotions – disbelief, anger, frustration, and acceptance. Then the fury came back, and the frustration, and the sense of total helplessness. I was on an emotional see-saw for the longest time, and naturally it was impossible for me to confide in anyone until I could handle myself properly. And, of course, I did want to pursue every avenue, look for a cure, if there was one to be found. I soon discovered there was absolutely nothing I could do except take the treatment, and seize a bit of borrowed time.’

Alexander smiled faintly, shrugged. ‘I am resigned to it now, Anthony, and completely in control. That is why I was finally able to tell you tonight. And now that that ordeal is over, I can relax, get on with my life for the next few months. I aim to make the most of it…’

‘Yes,’ Anthony said, then discovered he could not go on. He took a quick sip of his scotch. What a bloody waste, he thought. A waste of a rare and special man. And such a young man. Anthony asked himself if he would have been able to handle himself with the same kind of courage and grace his cousin was displaying if he had been in similar circumstances. He was not sure. It took an awful lot of character to cope with one’s own imminent death with such extraordinary stoicism.

Alexander said, ‘Come on, Anthony, don’t look so morose. And please don’t start getting maudlin on me. I couldn’t cope…I had a difficult time dealing with Emily’s emotion this evening. I realize how rough it is on all of you…but it’s not quite as rough as it is on me.’

‘So sorry. Do forgive me, old chap.’

‘Nothing to forgive…I want everything to be as normal as possible. That makes it so much easier for me. I must now endeavour to ignore my illness, go about my business as best I can, and in the most controlled manner. Otherwise it’ll be pure hell.’

‘You will come to Clonloughlin, won’t you?’ ‘Yes, in about two weeks’ time.’

‘Marvellous. Sally and I will enjoy having you. How long do you think you can stay?’

‘Ten days, two weeks perhaps.’ Alexander swallowed the last of his wine, put the glass down on the end table near the fireplace. ‘I’ve booked a table at Mark’s Club for nine o’clock. Perhaps we should stroll down there shortly, have a drink in the bar –’

Alexander rose at the sound of the phone ringing in the library which adjoined the drawing room. ‘Excuse me,’ he said as he hurried to answer it. He returned a second later. ‘It’s for you, Anthony…Sally calling from Ireland.’

‘Oh yes, I expected to hear from her. Thanks.’

‘Don’t tell her anything now. About my illness, I mean. Not over the phone,’ Sandy instructed.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Anthony reassured him as he strode across the floor, went through the double mahogany doors and into the library.

Left alone, Alexander sat down on one of the sofas and closed his eyes.

The last couple of hours had been trying, had vitiated his energy. Even though the others had striven hard not to display their feelings, to be brave, they had been terribly upset. As he had known they would be. That was why he had so dreaded telling them. He had only managed to get through the ordeal of breaking his bad news by being utterly detached and matter of fact.

He accepted his death with equanimity now, had come to terms with his fate. There was little else he could do. And in so doing he had been able to confide in those closest to him, because he could help them to do exactly the same thing. It was going to be hardest on Emily, of course. They had been as close as two peas in a pod when they were growing up. They had relied on each other in a certain sense. Their mother had been so flighty in those days, running from man to man, and marrying all sorts of disreputable characters. And their sweet but weak-willed father, crushed by the burden of his broken heart, had scarcely seemed aware of their existence. Alexander sighed under his breath. What a catastrophe his father’s life had been. And his mother’s, too. But wasn’t life itself a catastrophe?

Alexander instantly let go of this thought, not wanting to sink into deep philosophical ruminations this evening, as he had been so wont to do of late. Grandy wouldn’t approve, he said to himself, and smiled, remembering Emma Harte. How invincible she had been, and right up to the end. Life for her had been a triumph. So much for his theories…but then perhaps life was rooted in doom and tragedy for some.

Opening his eyes, Alexander glanced around the room blinking. It looked beautiful tonight in the glow of the lamps and the warming firelight. Maggie had decorated this room just after their marriage, and he always thought of it as a bit of English spring, whatever the time of year, with its primrose and daffodil yellows, pale blues and greens. Whenever it needed redoing he simply had the scheme repeated. He had been doing so since her death…

His cousin interrupted his musings when he said, ‘I say, Sandy, are you all right?’ Anthony hovered over him, looking concerned.

Alexander pushed himself upright on the sofa. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I was recouping…the last few hours have been a little wearing.’

‘Of course they have. Come on, let’s go to Mark’s.’

Within the space of ten minutes the two cousins were leaving Alexander’s house in Chesterfield Hill and heading for Charles Street where the club was located.

It was a chilly night and windy, and Alexander hunched further into his overcoat, shoved his hands in his pockets, shivering slightly. ‘Anyway, how was Sally?’ he asked, falling into step with Anthony.

‘Wonderful, as usual. She sends her love. I told her you were coming to stay…but that’s all I said.’

‘Quite.’

They walked on in silence. Suddenly Anthony remarked, as if to himself, ‘There was something odd though…’

‘Oh, in what sense?’ Alexander asked, looking at him curiously.

‘Sally told me that Bridget has been pestering her…wanting to know when I’m returning to Clonloughlin. According to Sally she seems rather anxious to talk to me, has something on her mind, no doubt. In fact, Sally said she seemed a trifle agitated today.’

‘That is odd. On the other hand, I have always found your housekeeper to be somewhat eccentric, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘Have you really? Mmmm. Perhaps she is…and a bit fey too, like most of the Irish. Well, it can’t be anything important,’ Anthony finished as they crossed Charles Street in the direction of the club.

But he was wrong. Events that had happened a decade ago were about to come back to haunt him.