Her Own Rules/Dangerous to Know Read online

  “An unbroken chain,” she said, the awe creeping into her voice again.

  Jack simply nodded.

  The two of them walked on, taking the wide path. This cut down through the green lawns and flower gardens, which were just starting to bloom; it stopped at the edge of the lake.

  “I know it’s called Silver Lake because of your name, but the lake is silver in color. And it’s so calm.”

  She leaned against the handlebars of the bike and shaded her eyes with one hand. “I’ve always liked being near water, and for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel—” She paused, unable to finish her sentence, at a loss for the right word to describe her emotions.

  “What does it make you feel, Meredith?”

  “I’m not sure . . . I can never really put my finger on the feeling.”

  “Happy? Content? Secure? It’s surely a good feeling you experience, or you wouldn’t like being near the water at all.”

  “That’s true. I suppose it makes me feel . . . well, all of those things you’ve just mentioned. But sometimes I feel sad, as if I’ve lost something . . . something precious. The water reminds me of it.”

  He made no response, merely looked at her closely before focusing on the lake. Suddenly he pointed and cried excitedly “Oh look! Over there! That’s the blue heron that comes every spring. It flies away after a few days and rarely comes back to the lake until the next year. But it’s marvelous and I’m certain it’s the same bird.”

  “How strange. I can’t imagine why it does that. If I were a bird, I would never want to leave Silver Lake. I would want to live here forever and ever, it’s so beautiful.”

  Jack Silver stared at her, taken by her words so softly spoken.

  Meredith met his eyes. She was quite startled by their intensity They did not leave her face and there was an expression in them she could not fathom. And she discovered that she could not look away . . .

  It was Jack who broke the spell between them. He said suddenly, gruffly, “I’m glad you’re coming to work at Silver Lake Inn, Meredith. I have a feeling things will go well. Amelia likes you. I like you. I sincerely hope you like us.”

  “I do, Mr. Silver, and I’m glad I’m coming here too.”

  They walked back to the inn in silence, both lost for a few moments in their own thoughts.

  “See you on Monday, Mr. Silver,” Meredith said, climbing onto her bike and riding away.

  “Call me Jack,” he shouted after her.

  “All right, I will,” she answered, half turning, waving before disappearing down the long drive.

  He stood watching her until she was out of sight, and he was amazed at himself when he suddenly realized he had not wanted her to leave. There was something most appealing about this girl; she was fresh and sweet and very beautiful, although he knew she did not realize just how beautiful she truly was. Nor did she understand the impact she made with her long legs, sun-streaked brown hair, and smoky-green eyes. He discovered he missed her already and he had known her for only a couple of hours, and he was further amazed at himself.

  The insistent ringing of the telephone awakened Meredith with a sudden start. As she jumped up and went to answer it, she realized she had fallen asleep on the sofa earlier.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Stratton. This is your wake-up call. It’s five o’clock,” the hotel operator informed her.

  “Thank you,” she answered, putting the phone back in the cradle and turning on a lamp. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was five; it surprised her that she had spent the entire night on the sofa without waking up once. She must have been extremely tired. On the other hand, the big, overstuffed sofa was as comfortable as the bed.

  Patsy will soon be here, she thought, hurrying into the bedroom, slipping out of her dressing gown, then heading for the shower. She was filled with relief that she had packed the night before.

  An hour later she was standing in the lobby of Claridge’s waiting for her partner, who was going to drive them to the north of England.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was a dull morning, gray and overcast, when Patsy and Meredith drove away from Claridge’s hotel. Leaden skies threatened rain, and by the time Patsy was pulling onto the motorway, pointing the Aston-Martin in the direction of the north, it was already pouring.

  Meredith leaned back against the car seat, only half listening to the radio, her mind preoccupied with business. At one moment she closed her eyes, and then, almost against her own volition, she began to doze, lulled by the warmth in the car and the music on the radio.

  “Go to sleep if you feel like it,” Patsy said, glancing at her quickly before focusing on the road ahead again. “I don’t mind, and we don’t have to talk if you’re tired.”

  “I’m fine,” Meredith replied, opening her eyes and sitting up straighter. “Even though I spent the night on the sofa I did in fact have a good rest.”

  “Why did you sleep on the sofa?”

  “I was still wide awake at one in the morning, too much on my mind, I guess. So I decided to get up, then I must have dozed off a bit later on.”

  “I hope you weren’t up in the middle of the night fretting about Reed Jamison.” Patsy frowned, throwing her a concerned look.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Good, because he’s certainly not worth worrying about.”

  “I agree, and I’m relieved I told him how I felt, Patsy.” Meredith laughed dryly. “It’s probably the only time I’ve had his full attention.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I always thought Reed wasn’t really listening to anything I had to say. It seemed to me that he was very busy formulating his reply, preoccupied with what he was going to say rather than with the meaning of my words.”

  “A lot of people suffer from that particular ailment,” Patsy muttered. “It’s a kind of self-involvement, I suppose. Then again, nobody seems to really listen anymore. Except you. You’re the best listener I’ve ever known.”

  “I learned that from Amelia. She taught me how important it is to listen, and she was always saying that you didn’t learn anything if you were the one doing all the talking. How right she was, but she was generally right about most things, and she taught me such a lot.” There was a small pause, and then Meredith added, “She was quite the most remarkable person I’ve ever known.”

  “I’m sorry I never knew her,” Patsy said. “And it’s funny you should mention her this morning, because I was thinking about her only last night, thinking what an influence she’s been on both our lives, although indirectly on mine, of course. Just think, if John Raphaelson hadn’t been her lawyer and then yours, you would never have met his brother, who was one of my father’s best friends, and therefore we would never have met, would we?”

  Meredith smiled. “That’s true, and I wish you’d known Amelia. She was so special.” Meredith let out a little sigh. “You know, if she’d lived, she’d be only sixty-two this year. Not that old at all.”

  “And Jack? How old would he have been?”

  “He was four years younger than Amelia, so he would have been fifty-eight . . . at the end of this month, actually.”

  “How sad for you that they died so young.”

  “Yes . . . Amelia struggled to keep going after Jack’s death, but the light had gone out for her. She just gave up in the end, and I’ve always thought she died of a broken heart, if that’s possible.”

  “Oh I think it is, Meredith. I believe my mother did . . . she went so quickly after my father passed away. I’ve always thought she just lost all interest in living once he was gone. In fact, I found out from my aunt, after Mummy had died, that she was always saying, ‘I want to go to Winston,’ and she stopped eating, well, she ate very little. It was as if she lost her appetite . . . for everything, including life. I do think she’d made up her mind to die.”

  “Amelia was a bit like that too, although she did live for a year after Jack’
s death. Not surprising really, when you think about it. People who have been together for a long time are so dependent on each other, and when one of them is suddenly alone, it’s traumatic.”

  “They’re lonely, and loneliness is a pretty unbearable state to be in.”

  “Amelia once said the same thing. Actually, she said loneliness was another kind of death. She loved me and she loved Cat, but Jack was the light of her life. Without him she seemed to lose her purpose, her raison d’être. Did I ever tell you that they’d known each other since their childhood?”

  “No, you never did. And did they grow up together?”

  “Part of the time, yes. Her parents had a summer home in Cornwall Bridge, not far from Silver Lake, and they were friends of the Silvers. Jack and Amelia met when they were children. Amelia was fourteen and Jack ten. They became best friends. They were both only children, you see, only children of only children, so there were no brothers and sisters or cousins. ‘I’m going to marry you when I grow up,’ Jack was forever telling her, and she’d laugh and say she couldn’t possibly marry a younger man. But they did marry when they were in their early twenties. And then Amelia had the riding accident . . . how different their lives would have been if she hadn’t been thrown by her horse. But that was her destiny . . . at least, that’s what she used to say to me.”

  “What did she mean?”

  “Exactly that, Patsy. She said that none of us could tamper with fate. Or avert it. Ché serà serà she would constantly murmur, what will be will be. That was her motto in a way, and her philosophy too. She said it was fate that brought me to Silver Lake that day in May of 1969. She said I was simply living out my destiny, just as she was doing, and Jack too. ‘I’m meant to be in this chair, Meri, I don’t know why, but I am,’ she would tell me over and over again.” Meredith paused, looked at Patsy through the corner of her eye. “According to Amelia, fate brought me to them. And as I’ve told you many times before, they changed my life, just as I changed theirs, and in so many different ways. For the better . . . for all of us. They gave me love and warmth and understanding, and the only real home I’d ever known until then. And I gave them something they’d always wanted, always missed . . .”

  “You were like a sister to them, the sister neither of them ever had.”

  “Yes, I was a sibling, in a sense. But what I meant was that I gave them Cat. My baby was like their child as well as mine. And how much they loved her.”

  “I know, and just think how happy they’d be if they could see her today. She’s really grown up to be such a fine young woman. Do you think she will get engaged to Keith?”

  “I do, and it’ll be soon. Catherine has very good instincts, and she wouldn’t have said anything to me the other night if she hadn’t felt Keith was on the verge of proposing.”

  “I hope I get an invitation to the wedding.”

  “Don’t be so silly, of course you will. Cat loves you, and she’s never forgotten how marvelous you were to her the year she lived with you in London. And neither have I, for that matter. Because of you, I was able to sleep every night. I didn’t have to worry about my daughter being alone in a foreign country.”

  “I was happy to look out for her, be a big sister. Will you have the reception at Silver Lake?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure of that. Cat wouldn’t want it anywhere else, she loves that place the way I do. And it’s the perfect setting for a wedding. Blanche is all excited, planning it already in her mind. The other evening she was talking about marquees and the menu and no doubt she’s got everything planned by now, from the flowers to the parking arrangements. Anyway, you’re going to come, and you’ll stay with me at the house.”

  “How lovely, thank you. Oh gosh, Meredith, being in love is wonderful, and I’m thrilled for Cat, thrilled that she’s found the right man. I wish I could.”

  “When you’re looking, there’s never one around.” Meredith leaned her head against the back of the seat, closed her eyes. “And a man isn’t always the answer, you know.”

  “Only too true!” Patsy peered ahead, cursing under her breath. The heavy rain was slashing against the windshield, so that everything looked blurred despite the wipers. “I hope this awful weather is going to let up soon. It’s just miserable.”

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No, no, I’m okay. And I know this road like the back of my hand. Don’t forget, it leads to the north of England.”

  “Your favorite place.”

  “One of them anyway,” Patsy said, smiling to herself.

  Meredith fell silent, her thoughts taking over.

  Patsy concentrated on her driving. There was a strong wind blowing, and she suspected it was bitterly cold outside; the road had recently grown slick, icy, suddenly slippery because of the freezing rain and sleet.

  As she drove on, her eyes fixed ahead, she thought of Meredith and how she had gone to Silver Lake all those years ago, how her life had been transformed overnight. What an extraordinary story it was. She knew that Meredith had become indispensable to Amelia and very quickly; the two women had developed a symbiotic relationship. Meredith had once told her how Jack had come to rely on her as well, teaching her so much about the management of the hotel, teaching her everything he knew about business. Yes, Meredith had confided a great deal about her years with the Silvers, but not much else about herself. She never talked about her earlier life in Australia. In fact, everything before the Silver Lake years seemed to be clouded in mystery. It was as if there were another part of her life, a secret part that Meredith did not want anyone to know about. Patsy had no inclination to pry, ask questions; that was not her way. She respected Meredith’s desire for privacy.

  Meredith turned to her and said, “This may sound funny to you, but I have a feeling you prefer the inn in Ripon. Skell Garth is your favorite of the two, isn’t it?”

  Taken aback, Patsy exclaimed, “Why do you say that?”

  “I just know. I’ve put two and two together from the few things you’ve said. Anyway, you love Yorkshire so much, it’s where you grew up.”

  “As I’ve been telling you all along, I want you to be the judge, Meredith, I really do. I don’t want to influence you, set you up in advance.”

  “What’s wrong with the one in the Lake District?”

  “Nothing. You’ve seen the pictures.”

  “Yes, and it does look gorgeous, and so do the gardens and the view. You’ve said it’s luxurious, beautifully done, and yet there’s a but in your mind; I know you.”

  “Too many cushions,” Patsy muttered.

  Meredith began to laugh. “I’ll never live that down, will I?” she said, remembering a comment she had made about another inn they had considered six months earlier. “So what you’re saying really is that it’s overstuffed, overdecorated.”

  “Sort of . . . lots of luxury and comfort, and I think the place does make you feel terribly pampered. But despite all the lovely fabrics and rugs and nice antiques, there’s nothing unique or different about Heronside. There’s nothing there that’s gone awry. You’ve always told me that it’s important for a room to be slightly askew, a bit ‘off.’ You said it makes a place interesting.”

  “Oddities add character, and that’s something we have always taken into consideration.” Meredith looked at her partner and friend, and nodded to herself. “I feel you don’t like Heronside.”

  “I don’t dislike it,” Patsy answered, speaking the truth.

  “Look, why are we going there? Why not go directly to Ripon?”

  “Because it is a wonderful inn, and I want you to see it for yourself. It doesn’t need much money spent on it, since it was redone two years ago, and the views are magnificent. Also, I’m not sure I’m right about it. Truly, Meredith, I want you to make the decision.”

  “All right, I will. But you’re not often wrong, Patsy. We have very similar tastes.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The morning was clear and cold, the kind of crisp, brig
ht day that Meredith liked. The sky was a dazzling blue, without a cloud, and the sun was shining; while this offered little warmth, it added radiance to the day.

  Just as the clock turned nine on Tuesday morning, Meredith was bundled up in boots and a sheepskin coat, walking through Studley Park. The stately avenue of lime trees down which she hurried led to Studley Church, just visible on top of the hill at the end of the avenue. She knew, from Mrs. Miller’s directions, that within a few minutes she would be at the abbey.

  Yesterday afternoon, when she and Patsy had arrived in Ripon, they had gone directly to Skell Garth House. Situated between the tiny villages of Studley Royal and Aldfield, the house stood on the banks of the little River Skell, as did Fountains Abbey on the opposite bank.

  After the Millers had been introduced to her, Patsy had explained to the couple that they would like to stay the night at Skell Garth. Since it was midweek in winter, this had not presented a problem. There were plenty of available rooms and Claudia Miller had given them a choice.

  “I think we’d like those two that adjoin each other on the top floor,” Patsy had said as they had followed the owners up the wide main staircase. “You know, the two that face Fountains.”

  The minute they walked into the first of the rooms, Patsy dragged Meredith to the window. “Now, isn’t that the most spectacular sight!” she cried. “Behold Fountains Abbey! One of the two most beautiful ruined abbeys in the whole of England.”

  Meredith stared out across the sloping lawns and gardens of Skell Garth House, now obliterated by a covering of snow, her eyes fastening on the abbey. It rose up out of glistening white fields, huge, dark, monolithic, silhouetted against the fading greenish sky, an ancient tribute to God. And she caught her breath, struck by its beauty. She agreed that it was magnificent. That was the only word to describe it, she thought.

  “And it’s one of the best preserved abbeys in the country,” Bill Miller had pointed out. “There are stonemasons working on it all the time, trying to keep it from crumbling away. It’s a national treasure, you know.”