A High Price To Pay

‘Perhaps that’s part of the trouble,’ Alison said drily. ‘Maybe I’d prefer a man who wasn’t quite so universally attractive.’

‘Now you’re being absurd.’ Mrs Mortimer released her hands and threw herself back on her pillows. She was looking agitated again. ‘Alison, you can’t do this to us! It would be too selfish to deliberately reduce us all to penury, when it could all be so different—and just for a few silly scruples. I feel that Nicholas Bristow is doing his utmost to behave honourably in this—dire situation. And the last you can do is meet him halfway.’

‘The least?’ Alison didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘To sell myself to a man I hardly know just for security? To give up my own life—the possibility of a career …?’

‘A career!’ Mrs Mortimer almost snorted. ‘I suppose you mean working for a pittance at that estate agent’s. And if you’re imagining for one minute that Simon Thwaite will have any further interest in you once we’ve lost Ladymead, then think again, because the Thwaites have always married money.’

‘And Simon will know his duty, even if I don’t.’ Alison bent her head. ‘Thank you for being so frank. It’s just as well I’m not in love with him.’

‘If you were, naturally I would exert no pressure, but in the circumstances …’ Mrs Mortimer retrieved a lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed at her mouth. ‘Alison dear, it isn’t given to us all to fall deeply in love as I did with your father. Very satisfactory relationships have been known to evolve from very little.’

‘But how do you build on nothing at all?’ Alison asked ironically. ‘It will be interesting to find out, I suppose, if nothing else.’ She pushed her hair back from her face. ‘Uncle Hugh said Daddy was a gambler; I must be more like him than I thought.’ She bent and dropped a light kiss on her mother’s hair. ‘Don’t look so worried, darling, you’re going to have your way. Ladymead will be restored to us, with all the other fringe benefits. I’ll phone Mr Bristow now and tell him, before I lose my nerve.’

She went down the stairs slowly, clinging to the banister rail as if she was afraid her legs would crumple and betray her. She’d left Nick Bristow’s card beside the phone, and it lay there, staring up at her, forcing her to respond—to act.