The Theotokis Inheritance (3 page)

Oscar had decided that they should start the day early, and Helena made her way downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast as early as possible.

He was already seated reading a morning paper, a large cafetière of coffee in front of him, and he stood up as Helena came in and glanced down at her. She was wearing slimline black trousers and a pale blue shirt, her hair tied back away from her face, which
was devoid of make-up. She looked rather wan today, he thought, and for the merest second he saw again the lovely, innocent girl of long ago. He pulled out a chair for her to sit down.

‘I’m impressed,’ he said. Then, ‘I didn’t expect to see you for at least another hour.’

Helena shot him a look as she took her seat. ‘I’m used to getting up early,’ she said. She wasn’t going to tell him that it was the horrible dream she’d had which had woken her at dawn.

Declining Oscar’s invitation to share his coffee, Helena decided to order a pot of tea for herself, feeling very thankful that he, too, seemed to need little to eat. She had never been a breakfast person.

Later, driving rapidly in Oscar’s car, they arrived at Mulberry Court and as they made their way along the broad, curved drive, Helena felt her stomach churn. This was now her house—partly her very own property. The much loved building she’d privately thought of as home all those years ago was legally hers! She still felt it too incredible to believe as she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, looking around her.

There, to one side, and out of sight of the main entrance, were the two semi-detached staff cottages, one each for the housekeeper and the gardener, and Helena turned her head to gaze back as they went past. After her mother had died, Helena and her father had come from their rented house in Dorchester to live in the gardener’s cottage and for the following eight years, until she’d gone to university, she had lived what she now thought of as a charmed life, roaming free in the wonderful Dorset countryside and the extensive
grounds of Mulberry Court, where her father had been the full-time gardener and general factotum. Louise, a local woman, had been Isobel’s housekeeper and cook, and Helena would frequently drop in next door to enjoy her company—and share her wonderful home-made cakes.

As for Paul Theotokis, Isobel’s husband, Helena had barely seen him at all. He had been a rather shadowy figure, constantly away looking after his business interests, but when Helena was about thirteen Paul had died suddenly, and the impressionable child had been amazed at the extravagant funeral arrangements and the hundreds of people who’d attended. Huge, glistening cars arriving, one after the other.

‘Who lives in our… I mean… who lives in the gardener’s cottage now?’ Helena asked curiously.

Oscar glanced across at her. ‘Benjamin. He joined the “firm”, as my aunt liked to call it, a month or so after your father died,’ he said shortly.

‘And Louise? I know she’s still here, isn’t she?’

‘She is. She’s been keeping everything ticking over until… well, until the future becomes clearer,’ Oscar said. ‘But she’s having a few days away in Durham with a cousin at the moment, I believe,’ he added.

Poor Louise, Helena thought. Mulberry Court—and her little cottage—had been her home for so many years. Now there was the prospect of no home, and no employment, either.

Oscar drew the car slowly to a halt outside the entrance door to Mulberry Court, and they both got out and went into the house. And as soon as she stepped over the threshold, the smell of the place filled Helena
with a warm rush of welcome. She took a deep breath, feeling almost faint for a second as a wave of nostalgia rippled through her.

‘It’s been such a long time,’ she said quietly. ‘Although Isobel very kindly arranged a small reception here for my father’s funeral, it was held in the conservatory… and, anyway, I was so… distraught… I hardly knew where I was at the time.’

Oscar gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I haven’t been here myself much, either,’ he admitted. ‘There just never seems to be the time… or a suitable opportunity.’

Together, and not saying much, they wandered through the rooms on the ground floor, Oscar making notes as they went, though Helena didn’t bother to follow suit. To her this was all so familiar, and little seemed to have changed, she noticed happily.

The glistening, well appointed kitchen was exactly as she knew it would be—the Aga still comfortingly warm and, in the dining room next door, the huge polished rosewood table was graced by the customary massive fresh flower arrangement in its centre. Helena smiled inwardly. Louise had obviously been determined that standards wouldn’t be allowed to drop just because Isobel was no longer there.

The main sitting room leading into the conservatory was still furnished exactly the same, though the heavy ivory-coloured curtains at the full-length windows were new, she noted. The smaller occasional room next door was where Helena and Isobel had spent many evenings together playing Scrabble or watching television.

Further along was the library, which had always been Helena’s favourite place, and now, as they went
inside, she was stupidly relieved to see that her figurines were still there in their usual softly lit alcove.

But dominating the room on the opposite wall was the amazing gold-framed portrait of Isobel, and Helena had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her lips from trembling.

The painting was so touchingly real that it felt as if Isobel might get up from the chair she was seated in and step forward to greet the two of them in the room. She was shown wearing a soft, loosely fitting dress in a delicate shade of pink, her luxuriant silver hair elegantly coiffed on top, her large grey eyes smiling that gentle smile that Helena knew so well.

As with the other rooms, every available space was taken up to display all the ornaments to best effect and, as they turned to go, Oscar clicked his tongue, looking back briefly.

‘My aunt was some collector,’ he remarked obliquely. He refused to acquire much for his own homes, preferring to keep his space empty and clutter-free—much like his life.

‘Yes—but there are collectors, and collectors,’ Helena said, immediately on the defensive. ‘Every single thing here is exactly right for its situation. Isobel had an eye for such things and she had wonderful taste—and it shows.’ She paused, her head on one side. ‘I don’t know what you intend… I mean… I don’t know what your opinion is, but I think it’s best if everything is left exactly as it is for the time being—until after the sale of the house, I mean. I don’t think we should move a thing. After all, any prospective buyer is going to be far more impressed when viewing a property that looks
lived-in… loved… cared for.’ She looked up at Oscar earnestly. ‘Once everything’s gone, the house will be just an empty shell. Lifeless.’ The fact was, she admitted, she couldn’t bear to see Isobel’s beloved home broken up and sold off in bits and pieces, even though it was inevitable one day. To Helena, it would seem like the ultimate betrayal.

A nerve pulsed in Oscar’s neck as he looked down at her, and he was aware of a certain hunger he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

‘We’ll have to think about that,’ he said, averting his gaze. Then, ‘By the way, as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to have anything you want… Take it now.’ He paused. ‘I don’t need any of this,’ he added.

Helena looked up at him seriously. No, I don’t expect you do need anything, she thought. And did she, Helena,
need
anything? Despite her prospective inheritance, she could never envisage a time when she’d eventually settle somewhere which would happily house such wealth.

‘I don’t want to think about what I want, or don’t want or need,’ she said coolly. ‘Not now. Not yet.’ She paused, her gaze lingering on the figurines for a second. ‘Only those over there—the shepherd and shepherdess—they are the only things that I would love to have.’

‘Feel free to take them, but it’ll all have to go eventually,’ Oscar said firmly. ‘Putting off the inevitable is just procrastination.’ And procrastination hinders progress, he thought. He avoided procrastination wherever possible.

Presently, Helena followed Oscar up the wide staircase
to the first floor. Immediately ahead, there were the four bedrooms, and around the corner to the next wing were two more, all with en suite bathrooms, the long windows on this generous landing lighting up the pattern on the richly carpeted floor.

Helena caught her breath as her memories kept flooding in. This was the first time in over nine years that she had been upstairs at Mulberry Court and she had to resist the temptation to run along and throw open the door of the room at the far end which had been ‘hers’—the one in which she had stayed on the few occasions that her father had had to go away.

‘Isobel had so many friends… I remember she was always entertaining, always having people to stay. These rooms were never empty for long,’ Helena said, adding, ‘I stayed here once or twice.’

‘And… this was my room,’ Oscar remarked, throwing open the door to the one they’d come to. He paused, looking around him. ‘I used to enjoy my visits,’ he added, and Helena’s heart missed a beat. Could he actually have forgotten what his visits had meant to
her
—to both of them? Had he completely obliterated those times from his memory? Had they meant nothing?

After a few more minutes they went outside to wander through the grounds. The kitchen garden at the back was still flourishing and well-kept, Helena noticed, trying not to feel too sad that someone else was now in charge there. Though Benjamin didn’t seem to be around today.

Nothing had changed outside, either, she thought, her eye drawn towards the secluded wooded path that led to their willow tree and, even after all this time,
Helena could feel her senses swim at the memory of the intoxicating moments she and Oscar had experienced together. Yet they were walking here now as if none of it had ever happened. As if they were two strangers in a foreign place…

Without her realizing it, Oscar had been looking down at her as they walked, his eyes following her gaze as she’d been reminiscing, and abruptly, as if he’d had enough of all this, he stopped and turned.

‘I need to get back to the Inn,’ he said briefly. ‘I want to check my emails, and I’m expecting an important phone call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, it’s gone one o’clock—you’re probably ready for some lunch, aren’t you?’

To her surprise, Helena wasn’t feeling at all hungry, despite having had no breakfast. But another of Adam’s delicious sandwiches suddenly seemed attractive.

‘OK,’ she said casually as they walked towards the car. ‘And, actually, perhaps I ought to phone my boss. He hasn’t been in the office for a few days, but I know he’s back this weekend. Perhaps there’s something he needs to tell me before Monday morning.’

As they drove back to the Horseshoe, something made Oscar decide to try his luck. He’d been thinking about it for the last hour or more, but he knew he’d have to pick his words carefully.

‘Look, if it would be any help to you, Helena… I’d be more than happy for us to get a true valuation of Mulberry Court, the contents, everything,’ he said carefully, ‘and, allowing for inflation, to pay you a very generous half of the total, now. It would relieve you of all responsibility, and you’ve said you don’t want
anything for yourself… other than those figurines.’ He turned to glance at her as she sat beside him impassively. ‘It would save you a great deal of trouble…’

There was complete silence from Helena, and he went on, ‘Of course, the sale can’t proceed for a year, as we both know, but if you agree, at least one of us will be spared considerable interruption to our life. John Mayhew would sort out the transaction for us, I’m sure,’ he added.

He drew into the car park and looked across at Helena, noting her flushed features.

‘You’ve forgotten what I said, Oscar,’ she said, staring straight ahead. ‘I’ve already told you—I want to be able to play my part in making sure that we deal sensitively with all the material possessions which Isobel held dear.’

Now she did look at him, her eyes almost crackling with distaste. She knew what his game was—he wanted her out of the way! For his own convenience, not hers. She was an unnecessary encumbrance! Although he may have cared for her once, he didn’t care about her now and he didn’t care about Isobel’s lovely things, either, which he’d make sure went to the highest bidder.

She opened her door, then looked back at him squarely.

‘I am grateful for your concern at the “interruption” to my busy life,’ she said, ‘but… thanks, but no thanks, Oscar. Mulberry Court and I have a very long way to go before we’re through.’ And with that she got out of the car and walked swiftly towards the entrance to the Inn.

* * *

Back in his room, Oscar took his laptop from the wardrobe and threw it down on the bed, admitting to feeling unusually distracted. Exploring Mulberry Court this morning had ruffled his memories more than he’d expected and he’d felt his aunt’s presence in every corner. He knew he had always felt closer to her than to his own parents, and her wise gaze as she’d looked down at him from that portrait had unnerved him slightly.

He shrugged. Anyway, he’d probably blown any chance of Helena agreeing to his perhaps unrealistic proposal. It had obviously been the wrong moment to have mentioned it, he thought. If ever there was to be a right one. He remembered enough about her to know that she had a mind of her own, and would not easily be persuaded into making decisions she might later regret.

But what to do with the house and its contents was a totally insignificant matter compared with the far more vital one to be handled, he thought. Because he had the distinct feeling that he’d been awakened from a hundred-year sleep and by the most desirable woman he’d ever known. Or was ever likely to know. But had he woken up in time?

T
RYING
to subdue her somewhat ruffled feelings, Helena went into her bathroom to wash her hands and put a brush through her hair.

The morning had been a rather emotional experience, she thought. At certain points it had seemed to her as if she and Oscar were trespassing, which was obviously silly because Mulberry Court was legally theirs. But Isobel’s presence had seemed to follow them as they’d wandered through her home, and it seemed wrong to Helena that she hadn’t been there as well.

But what was really getting to her now was Oscar’s proposal that she should wash her hands of their present situation and leave him to it. Even if it would obviously mean that straight away a very considerable amount of money would come her way. She sighed briefly. He wouldn’t have the sensitivity to understand her feelings—the look on his face had said everything. But she felt, acutely, that Isobel had left this assignment to the pair of them, to be handled with dignity, obviously thinking that two heads were better than one.

Helena frowned as she dwelt on all this. Perhaps she was being mean, not giving Oscar the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he really
did
have her interests at heart.
Then she shook her head, responding to that thought. No, this was all about him, wanting to go it alone without the handicap of someone else possibly having an opinion that didn’t match his. He was, after all, a cutthroat businessman—he had to be, surely, as the head of the Theotokis dynasty? Sentiment didn’t come into it because everyone knew that there was no room for sentiment in business.

With her head beginning to throb with all these teeming thoughts, Helena decided that for the moment she’d had enough. Taking her mobile from her bag, she dialled his number.

‘Oscar, I’ve developed rather a bad headache,’ she said calmly. ‘So I’m going to have a lie down. Perhaps we can continue our… discussions… later. At supper?’

There was barely a pause as he responded snappily—she’d obviously interrupted something. ‘Fine. I’ll book a table downstairs for eight.’ And, after a moment, ‘If you think you’ll have recovered by then.’

Helena could imagine him raising his eyes impatiently at what she’d just said. Then she sighed. She didn’t usually have negative thoughts about people, about anyone, but somehow, she and Oscar… It had to be the disparity in their positions which had ignited the latent inferiority complex which she occasionally had to battle with, she thought. Well, thanks to Isobel, for the moment she was now exactly on a par with him. There was no need for her to feel that he had any advantage over her at all, and she must keep reminding herself of that. For one year, they were to be partners.

‘Oh, I’ll be fine by then,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ll see you at eight.’ And with that she rang off. Anyway,
she thought, he wouldn’t be sorry to have some time to concentrate on far more important things.

As he drank his glass of whisky in the bar, Oscar had to accept that the morning hadn’t gone as he’d expected. He’d fondly imagined that he and Helena could have had a straightforward discussion about his aunt’s possessions—to make a list of what they wanted to take away with them, wanted to sell, to at least have made a beginning. He’d fully expected Helena to want some of the contents of Mulberry Court for herself, maybe a picture or two, or a small chair or some books, things that would easily fit into her car to take away. Arrangements could be made for anything else she might fancy to be delivered to her place later. But apparently she didn’t wish for anything at all except those ornaments, and she’d made it clear where her instincts lay—to leave it all in situ.

Helena was just lying on the bed reading her book and sipping the last of her coffee when her mobile rang. As she answered it, Simon Harcourt’s voice met her ears and she frowned slightly. ‘Oh—hello, Simon,’ she began, then listened for several minutes while he explained the reason for his call.

Interrupting at last, Helena said, ‘Actually, Simon, I won’t be available to come to the conference with you that weekend because… I’m afraid I shall actually be giving you my notice on Monday,’ and before he could say anything, she went on quickly, ‘I’ve learned that I’ve just inherited a property in the country, and it’s not a straightforward matter, so I need to leave London almost at once.’ She swallowed, hard. Well, she’d burned
her boats as far as Simon was concerned. Where she stood with Oscar was another matter!

Helena slipped into her simple knee-length three-quarter-sleeve aubergine dress—which she’d decided at the last moment to bring with her—and glanced at herself in the mirror. The garment was still a favourite item in her wardrobe, and whenever she wore it she always made a point of sweeping her hair up on top, which she felt suited the low boat-shaped neckline. Her only make-up was her light foundation and a slick of eyeshadow. Her long pearl-quartz earrings completed the picture.

As the ancient clock on the landing chimed eight, she made her way downstairs. Oscar was standing at the bar, talking to Adam, and both men looked up as she approached, Oscar with a heightening of his pulse, which he tried to ignore.

As Helena approached, she smiled quickly, noting Oscar’s undeniably sexy appearance. He was dressed in light trousers and designer jacket and open-neck shirt; his hair had been newly washed, the dark, determined jaw obviously clean-shaven. A perfect model for any advertisement, she thought instinctively.

Immediately, Adam came from behind the bar, two large menus in his hands, and beckoned the two to follow him, leading them over to a table in the far corner of the restaurant.

Holding Helena’s chair out for her, he said, ‘Tonight’s special dish is seared sea bass—caught this morning,’ he added proudly. Then he took the just-opened bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the table and filled their
glasses. ‘I’ll be back for your order as soon as you’ve decided,’ he said.

‘He seems to run a very tight ship here,’ Oscar commented, glancing at the man’s retreating figure. ‘By the way, I hope you approve of this… of my choice,’ he said, picking up his glass.

How could Helena not approve? It was vintage champagne. She put the glass to her lips and sipped at the frothy bubbles, looking across at him steadily. ‘Is this by way of a celebration?’ she asked enigmatically.

Oscar raised a brow. ‘If you like,’ he said casually. Well, they had just been left a fortune. ‘I hope you don’t have a problem with champagne?’

Helena smiled briefly. ‘I’ve only had it twice before—at weddings,’ she said. ‘And while I’m no connoisseur, I always found it a very… special… drink.’ She paused. ‘Thank you,’ she added.

A muscle pounded in Oscar’s jaw as he gazed across at her. She looked so unutterably lovely he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Her hair was shining, its thick bands glinting like gold in the flickering candlelight, but she did look pale, and he said briefly, ‘Are you feeling OK now… has your headache really gone?’

‘Absolutely,’ Helena said lightly. ‘And, as a matter of fact, I’m feeling quite hungry,’ she added. She picked up her menu, hoping he didn’t notice it trembling slightly between her fingers. In a thousand lifetimes could she ever have imagined she’d be so close to Oscar again? To breathe the same air that he was breathing? To watch that firm mouth with the immaculate teeth, white against his suntan? He wasn’t merely good-looking, not merely handsome; he had that stunning,
sultry, Mediterranean charisma that turned every gullible female heart to jelly.

As they gave Adam their order and waited for their meal to arrive, Oscar said, ‘I’ve had time to think things over this afternoon and I can’t help wondering if it’s the right thing to be leaving the house unoccupied for so long.’ He drank from his glass. ‘There’s a big problem with squatters taking over empty premises—certainly in London at the moment—and I understand that once they’re in, it’s difficult to get rid of them.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘Of course, I know that Benjamin and Louise will always be close at hand, but that wouldn’t stop determined individuals from gaining entry on a dark night—and if that did happen it would certainly add to our problems.’ He paused. ‘Maybe we should consider a short-term let,’ he added, ‘as a safety measure.’

Helena could hardly believe what she’d just heard Oscar say. This could clinch it for her! Play right into her hands! Had her guardian angel—who’d been somewhat absent lately—decided to put in an appearance?

Presently, enjoying their meal—they’d both selected the sea bass with salad—Oscar said bluntly, ‘So, perhaps we ought to catch up. What’s been happening to you in the last ten years or so?’ He speared a cherry tomato expertly with his fork. ‘Isobel informed me that you got a place at a top London university.’

‘Yes. Amazing, wasn’t it?’ Helena said lightly. ‘Amazing that a modest secondary school in the sticks can take students to such elevated places.’ She looked down quickly, hoping that hadn’t sounded like a dig at
his private boarding school education which had taken him to Cambridge, and later to Harvard.

She went on hurriedly. ‘Anyway, I got a respectable degree in Economics and International Business Studies, and my present job is with the Harcourt Employment Agency,’ she added, ‘but, as I’ve mentioned, I hope to soon be on the move.’

‘So, where next, then?’ he enquired.

Without looking at him, Helena said, ‘I’m not sure yet because I haven’t made up my mind. I want to give myself time to really look around before deciding. And in the meantime, of course, temporary employment is not hard to find in the city.’

There was silence for a moment, then he said, ‘You live alone?’

‘Yes,’ Helena replied promptly.

‘So, no man in your life… no marriage ties on the horizon for you?’

Helena shook her head quickly. ‘No.’ She decided to lob the ball back to him. ‘And you, Oscar? No wife and children at your beck and call?’

That familiar tilt of his upper lip. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘I have a feeling that that’s a rather unlikely scenario,’ he added, before resuming his meal.

That remark didn’t surprise Helena. He was obviously not the marrying kind, though there must be a permanent and very hopeful queue of women at his disposal. From his lofty perch in life he could look down, take his pick and walk away. Besides, mistresses were a far more convenient answer to the emotional needs of men like him, weren’t they? No need to commit himself in any way.

He interrupted her thoughts. ‘I can’t help wondering why you’re still free and single,’ he said. ‘London is a big city with plenty of men after beautiful women. How have you managed to escape their clutches?’

Helena felt a rush of pleasure at the remark—because it implied the sort of compliment she hadn’t expected from Oscar. Not any more.

Then, feeling unusually relaxed, she went on, ‘Not long after my father died, I did meet Jason, and we were together for some time.’ She paused. ‘He was a great help at the time and seemed to understand how I was feeling, how much I was missing not being able to ring my dad, tell him the latest news.’ She sighed. ‘When I look back, I realize Jason must have listened for hours to me feeling sorry for myself.’ She looked across at Oscar quickly. ‘Perhaps I should have grown up by then,’ she added.

Oscar made no comment, but his eyes had softened at her words, realizing how much he was loving watching her mouth, the fleeting expressions on her face as she’d spoken. He’d always known that Helena’s mother had died years ago, and that Daniel and his daughter had been extremely close, so it was natural that Daniel’s death would have hit her hard. And, despite all outward appearances, he recognized that touching vulnerability about Helena that had always stirred him.

‘Big cities can be very lonely places,’ he said briefly.

Helena kept her eyes on her plate. She wasn’t going to say anything at all about Mark, who she’d thought she’d been deeply in love with—and who she’d imagined had returned her feelings. Their unexpected breakup had hurt, and the split, when it happened, had come
as a total shock. She didn’t want to think about it ever again, or the fact that he’d cheated on her with an old mutual friend. But, even worse, Mark had told Helena that he found her cool and distant. He hadn’t mentioned the word frigid, but the implication was there, and she was still finding it hard to accept.

‘Anyway,’ Helena went on, touching her lips with her napkin, ‘eventually I realized that I was using Jason just as a shoulder to cry on, and that was hardly fair because I felt nothing for him, not really. He was nice, and very kind, but nothing more. It was time to let him go and stop wasting any more time on me.’ She paused. ‘And I still feel terribly guilty about it.’

She took a sip from her glass, then smiled briefly. ‘But I needn’t have worried about him. He soon found someone else, and I think they’re engaged to be married.’

Oscar raised an eyebrow. ‘Jason was obviously a man with a single-track purpose,’ he said. And, after a moment, added, ‘Each to his own, I suppose.’

Helena made no comment. Being a settled family man was never going to be on Oscar’s agenda, she thought. How could she ever have thought otherwise?

As they were finishing the last of the meal, he said casually, ‘My aunt was very upset about your father’s death at the time… He’d been a valued member of her staff for so many years.’ He paused. ‘And he was still comparatively young, wasn’t he?’

‘He was fifty-nine,’ Helena said shortly. ‘I had already begun planning a party for his sixtieth birthday.’

There was quite a long silence after that, then Helena
said, in a deliberately bright tone, ‘And your parents, Oscar? How are they?’

He paused before answering. ‘My father no longer works… hasn’t done for a long time. He and my mother live permanently in their place in Bermuda.’ He reached across to refill their glasses. ‘My uncle—my father’s remaining brother—has also retired, so I am the only working family member left.’

The significance of what Oscar had just said didn’t need to be spelt out. That he was the last in a long line and that, although it was unthinkable that the firm would ever founder, if he had no heirs the family name would inevitably die out.