Green Lightning

Helen gasped, but before she could speak, Angela added: ‘Yes. Well, I only hope she’s prepared to listen to me. One can only teach when there is a willingness to learn.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she will,’ remarked Heath infuriatingly, raising his wine glass to his lips, and Helen’s jaw clenched at this deliberate attempt to provoke her. They were speaking as if she wasn’t there, and she had what she recognised as a childish desire to storm out of the room. But she didn’t. She remained where she was, lifting her wine glass to Heath in a mocking kind of salute, so that his mockery faded to a brooding preoccupation.

‘You have such a beautiful home,’ Angela interjected, and Helen guessed she had noticed Heath’s sudden lapse of interest in herself. ‘Has it been in your family for a number of years? I noticed the exquisite carving on the stairs. Is it Grinling Gibbons?’

‘A contemporary of his, I believe.’ Heath recovered his manners, and forced a faint smile. ‘Actually, the house was bought by my grandfather in the early part of this century. Before that, it was owned by the Countess of Starforth.’

‘How interesting!’ Angela finished eating and leant towards him confidingly. ‘Daddy and I used to own a house in Cornwall—Trenholme. He bought it when my mother died. He found he could work there more easily than in London. He had so many friends, you know, and one or other of them was always calling in to see him when he was in town. That was why we moved away, really. He needed solitude for his writing.’

‘I’m surprised one of your father’s friends couldn’t offer you a job,’ put in Helen staunchly, determined not to be ignored completely. ‘I mean, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it? To help you when you’re desperate.’

Angela’s lips thinned. ‘I wasn’t—desperate exactly, Helen. As—as a matter of fact, there were several positions offered to me. But it was finding the right job that mattered.’ She exchanged a knowing smile with Heath. ‘You understand, don’t you, Mr Heathcliffe? A girl of my upbringing—well, it was important for me to find an occupation I could feel comfortable in.’

Heath nodded. ‘I appreciate that.’

‘What you’re saying is, you wouldn’t have scrubbed floors, or manned the check-out at a supermarket,’ Helen persisted annoyingly, and she saw Angela’s nails digging into her palms as she endeavoured to answer her civilly.

‘There was no question of that,’ she declared, casting another tolerant look in Heath’s direction, but having got her enemy retreating, Helen was in no mood to let her go.

‘I don’t see what else you could have done,’ she observed reasonably, folding her hands demurely in her lip. ‘I mean, you did say you had no qualifications—–’

‘That will do, Helen.’ Heath’s abrupt remonstration brought her brief bid for superiority to an end. ‘I’m sure you know perfectly well what Miss Patterson is talking about—–’

‘Oh—Angela, please!’

‘Very well, then, Angela. I’m sure you understand what Angela is trying to say, Helen. And while we’re on the subject, let me say I expect you to treat our guest with rather more courtesy than you’ve shown this far. I’ve apologised for your arriving to meet her in the Land Rover, and Angela’s prepared to forgive and forget. So am I, providing we don’t have any further demonstrations of that kind—do I make myself clear?’

‘Perfectly,’ exclaimed Helen tautly, her face burning with hot colour. ‘And now, as you evidently don’t need my presence to discuss my shortcomings, perhaps you’ll allow me to go to bed. I’m feeling rather tired.’

Heath’s mouth tightened. ‘Helen—–’ he said warningly, but she had thrust back her chair and was facing him with grim defiance. ‘Oh, all right,’ he muttered, lifting his expensively-groomed shoulders. ‘Go to bed. I’ll talk to you again in the morning.’

It was an effort to bid goodnight to Angela Patterson, but Helen managed it, leaving the room with her head held high, as much to hold back the tears as to demonstrate her independence. It had been a disaster. The day had been a disaster. And she was very much afraid that tomorrow and all the days after were not going to be that much better.

CHAPTER THREE (#ue2a5194b-dd03-5024-8384-a534d1262d0a)

NIKO crunched the lump of sugar Helen had brought for him and nuzzled at her pocket for more. ‘I’m sorry, boy,’ she murmured, rubbing her face against his soft muzzle. ‘I don’t have any more.’ She drew back to smile at him. ‘You should be grateful! Sugar is awfully bad for your teeth.’

Niko whinnied softly in her ear, catching the collar of her shirt between his teeth and tugging affectionately. He was Heath’s horse really, but he had been the recipient of all Helen’s troubles ever since he came to Matlock Edge, and although the stable hands were wary of him, he had always been the soul of patience with her.

It was a shame no one did much riding at Matlock any more, she reflected. When she was little, Heath had bought her a pony and taught her to ride, and together they had combed the hills and valleys of the West Riding. But since she had grown older, Heath always said he was too busy to go riding with her, and if ever she did get the chance to ride with him, it was always in company with guests he had invited to the house. In earlier days, she had ridden alone from time to time, sometimes persuading the groom, Angus McLintock, to saddle Niko for her. But she knew he worried every time she rode out on her own, and he was relieved when Heath found out and put a stop to it.

Besides, latterly, she had had the Honda to get about the estate, and once she was seventeen and had learned to drive a car, she had neglected the horses. But she always came to Niko when she needed to confide her problems, and she sighed a little dejectedly at the realisation that this was the most serious problem yet.

The sound of men’s voices aroused her from her absorption, and she straightened a little resentfully when she recognised Heath’s deeper tones. It was scarcely seven a.m. Couldn’t he at least have allowed her this time alone? Was she to have no privacy now that Angela Patterson had come to live in the house?

Although the voices were audible, she could not hear what was being said, though she guessed Angus McLintock would waste no time in telling his employer she was here. It was a mercy Niko had been installed in the stables overnight. Perhaps she could slip out the back way without Heath even seeing her. But the sudden darkening of the doorway kept her rooted to the spot, though she refused to turn and wish him good morning as if last night had never happened.

‘Helen!’ His attractively low-pitched use of her name almost made her relent, but she continued to stroke Niko’s head, ignoring his sound of impatience, ‘Helen, I want to talk to you. Have the decency to turn round and face me!’

Helen turned round abruptly, spreading her arms along the wooden rails at either side of her, facing him mutinously. ‘Well?’ she said insolently. ‘What do you want? Have you invited Miss Patterson to go riding with you, and you want me to go along as chaperone? I’m sorry, I don’t feel like riding today.’

Heath regarded her through narrowed lids. In a dark green corded jerkin and matching corded pants, he looked unconscionably attractive, and a curious pain stirred in the pit of her stomach as she met his concentrated gaze.

‘Now, that’s a pity,’ he remarked. ‘Because I was going to invite you to go riding. But naturally, if you don’t feel like it …’

Helen’s lips compressed indignantly. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s what you said, not me.’

‘No, you know what I mean.’ She moved her head to avoid Niko’s affectionate nuzzling. ‘I don’t believe you intended to take me riding. You’re not even dressed for it.’

Heath shrugged. ‘I can ride in these clothes as well as any others.’ His mouth curved. ‘Do I take it you would like to go riding after all?’

She shrugged, looking down at the legs of her cotton dungarees. ‘Is Miss Patterson invited?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ She looked up.

‘No,’ he agreed, glancing behind him into the yard. ‘Now, do you want to go or don’t you? I don’t have that much time.’

Helen withdrew her arms from their defiant stance and sniffed. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Okay.’ Heath stepped to one side. ‘You’ll find McLintock’s already saddled Marnie. You go and find him while I attend to Niko.’

She stopped beside him indignantly. ‘You were so sure I’d come, weren’t you?’

Heath stepped past her. ‘Stop wasting time,’ he advised shortly. ‘I’ve got to be in Bradford by ten o’clock.’

Helen wanted to refuse. She wanted to tell him to go ride himself, but she didn’t. It was an opportunity of being alone with him she couldn’t bear to miss, and she was waiting on Marnie’s back when he led the black hunter out of its stall.

A gate beyond the stable yard gave access to the fields and parkland surrounding Matlock Edge. Helen had known Heath take that gate in full stride, but this morning he leant down to open it, allowing both horses through before re-securing the catch.

It was a glorious morning, the sun already giving some hint of the warmth of the day to come. Helen thought there was nowhere like England on an early summer morning, and although Heath had taken her to France and Italy, she still preferred the English countryside to those hotter foreign beaches.

Giving Marnie his head, she allowed the animal to take her at a gallop across the sloping meadow, hearing the low thunder of Niko’s hooves behind her. For the moment, at least, Heath was prepared to give himself up to the enjoyment of the ride, and contentment spread, like wildfire, throughout her whole body. But eventually he caught up with her, exhibiting with ease the hunter’s superior strength, and leaning across, reined Marnie in beside him.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘let’s talk, shall we? Pleasant as this is, I do have work to do.’

Helen hesitated a moment and then pointed to the thin ribbon of water flowing over rocks some few yards ahead of them. ‘Let’s dismount and sit by the stream,’ she suggested, already digging her heels into Marnie’s sides to urge him forward, and after a brief pause Heath followed her.

‘All right,’ he said, ‘if this suits you. Personally, I’d prefer to stay in the saddle. The grass is wet.’

‘It’s only dew,’ exclaimed Helen, sliding down from Marnie’s back. ‘Hmm, it smells delicious. Don’t you think so?’

Heath shrugged, swinging his leg across the pommel and jumping down beside her. ‘I can think of sweeter things,’ he remarked drily, avoiding some wild creature’s droppings, and walking to the edge of the water. ‘You know I used to fish here, when I was little. I never could understand why I never caught anything.’

‘Perhaps you used the wrong bait,’ said Helen, coming to stand beside him. ‘I used to paddle here, when Mrs Gittens would let me.’ She grinned up at him. ‘She was once livid because I stripped all my clothes off.’