Page 65 of Needs Must
He turned and noticed an array of colourful gowns hanging neatly in an open armoire. He wondered at Donna’s lack of practicality. If she really did intend to pursue a life of relative servitude then she would have no reason to wear such sophisticated finery. He sensed her love of fashion and admired her ability to carry it off with effortless elegance, as evidenced by the ensemble she had worn with elan that day. It would be a travesty if she never got to show these dresses off again, but he resolutely pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind. He was here for one reason and one reason only, he reminded himself, and could not afford to become sidetracked.
Cal knelt on the rag rug at the end of the bed and placed his ear to the floorboards. Not only could he hear voices, he could also detect every word that was being said quite clearly. And they were not raised in argument as they surely would be when Harte confronted his brother’s widow. Unless Harte took it upon himself to come upstairs for some reason then this would be the ideal place from which to hear the man condemn himself.
Preferring not to dwell on the various aspects of their plan that might go awry, Cal did his best to shake off his feelings of unease as he slowly made his way back down the stairs. His gaze fell upon Donna as he entered the sitting room, and he desperately tried to think of ways to talk her out of confronting a dangerous and unstable individual. One glance at the stubborn set to her features and he knew he would be wasting his breath.
Besides, he couldn’t think of any better approach that would resolve the problem.
‘Very well,’ he said, with a heavy sigh. ‘We will do things your way.’
Chapter Nineteen
Donna didn’t see Cal the following day. Not that she had any reason to suppose that she would, but still … She was kept fully occupied settling into her new home and had no time to spare for unrealistic daydreams. How long she would actually be able to call it home was open to question, and would no doubt be decided by the restraints of her limited budget.
She had barely sensed Esmeralda’s presence but knew she was still around, watching and waiting for something to happen that would release her from her prolonged spell in limbo. Donna’s soft heart quailed as she imagined her dilemma and wondered if she would be able to deliver.
‘I will not let you down,’ she muttered, reassured by the sound of her own voice.
‘I’m off to the village, love,’ Miriam said, bustling into the room with a basket over her arm. ‘We need a few bits and pieces.’
‘I’ll drive you there in the gig.’
‘No need. The weather’s fine for a change. The rain has finally stopped and I’ll enjoy the walk. I’ll get them to deliver my purchases. You stay here and get things the way you want them. I shan’t be long.’
‘Very well, Miriam. Take your time. You deserve a break.’
Donna hummed to herself as she dusted her books, enjoying the momentary respite from her perpetual fear. Harte, if he came, would not arrive until the following day at the very earliest and she decided that she would not think about the confrontation until then.
Miriam was right about the weather, she thought, as she glanced out the window and shielded her eyes against a weak sunshine that made a pleasant change from constant wind and rain. She waved to Tom, who was raking up leaves. She recalled how Cal had greeted him with casual familiarity and how Tom had responded in like fashion. Cal clearly did not stand on ceremony when interacting with the locals, which was probably what made him so popular. Donna very much doubted if the same could be said for his self-aware mother and sister.
She had deliberately not thought beyond returning to England and somehow finding a way to get Ian to admit to what he had done, if only to rid herself of the threat that he posed all the time she possessed the letters that could condemn him. The odds were stacked against her. Who in their right mind would freely confess to having murdered their own brother? Even so, there was an outside chance that she could use his arrogance to her advantage.
She had to try, or she would spend the rest of her days looking over her shoulder, wondering when and how he would get to her in an effort to retrieve the letters that were so damning. She obviously hadn’t been thinking straight, she accepted, otherwise she would have realised how impossible that ambition would be to achieve.
Really, she should have either left the letters where she’d found them, hidden amongst her husband’s clothes, or burned them and looked instead to her own future. If she hadn’t read them and realised their significance, ambiguous though it was, she would not have wasted funds coming to Arndale and renting a cottage that she wouldn’t be able to afford for very long as she thirsted to right a terrible wrong.
She oughtto have been concentrating on finding a situation that suited her talents. Even if she did get a confession out of Ian now that she had Cal’s support and it was a slightly greater possibility, she was well aware that she would never recover the money he had stolen from his brother that should have seen her comfortably settled for the rest of her days.
She had not loved Jonathan and didn’t mourn his passing, but injustice did not sit comfortably with her. No one should get away with murder. For all his faults, Jonathan deserved justice and Donna had weathered the aftermath of his demise by resolving to achieve it for him.
She had been drawn to Arndale, and to poor Esmeralda’s spirit, and realised that perhaps there had been method behind her madcap schemes after all. Add Cal’s influence to the mix and it was remotely possible that she might just win this very one-sided battle.
After which she would look to her future. She knew for a certainty that she couldn’t stay in what was fast becoming a snug little cottage with a homely feel to it for long. It was too close to Cal. Her friendship with him would give his family a just reason to resent her, even if she were able to remove all suspicion from her name.
Besides, Cal would have to take a wife in the near future and that person couldn’t be her ? a widow with a questionable reputation. It would be torture to see the man whom she was dangerously close to falling in love with married to someone else. Her heart absolutely would not withstand the strain.
‘There. I have admitted it,’ she said aloud, ‘if only to myself.’
She felt a waft of warm air agitating her hair and smiled. Esmeralda had heard her and was letting her know that she approved. She wondered if she was rapidly becoming a candidate for Bedlam, feeling encouraged by the approval of a spirit than no one else could see.
Time slipped by and Donna felt content in ways that she had forgotten were possible. She had lived her entire married life on tenterhooks, wondering what mood Jonathan would be in when he came home. She always knew when he’d found a new woman and was grateful, because whoever the obliging female in question happened to be, she put him in a congenial frame of mind for a day or two. She put up with being compared to his latest paramour and being found wanting. Words couldn’t hurt her but Jonathan’s frustrations, which he inevitably took out on her with his fists, could and frequently did.
‘Oh, you were quick,’ Donna said, smiling and looking up from the book she’d been reading when the door opened. Her smile quickly faded when she glanced over her shoulder and realised it wasn’t Miriam who had interrupted her. ‘You!’ she cried, clasping the book against her palpitating heart. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Why, looking for you of course, my dear.’ Ian, dressed to the nines in the style of the gentleman that he would never be, gave the sitting room a scathing glance before returning his attention to her. ‘Not quite the standard you are accustomed to, of course,’ he remarked. ‘But you are as lovely as ever.’
‘I would not be reduced to squalor if you hadn’t stolen Jonathan’s money,’ she replied, projecting a sense of calm that she didn’t feel. The best way to face up to bullies, she was in a good position to know having been married to one, was not to show any fear. Bullies thrived on fear. It made them feel invincible.
‘I took what was mine,’ he replied with arrogant disdain. ‘My brother would have been nothing without me calling the shots.’
