Winter's End Part 13

"Of course," she said.

"Let's go to your conservatory. It's peaceful there. Might even aid to put this whole torrid turn of events on a better note."

Emma followed, her curiosity piqued but also inevitably mingled with concern. She watched Ethel fiddle with the hems of her shawl as she settled into a couch by the window. She had never seen Ethel fidget with anything ever.

"I understand that you were disappointed with your date," Ethel started.

"Disappointed is too mild a word," Emma said wryly. "Aghast was more like it."

"Christopher can be a little exasperating at times," said Ethel.

"Exasperating!" exclaimed Emma. "He was crude, boorish and overtly disparaging. I have never felt so abased and horrified by any person's behaviour! Shockingly, at the same time!"

"Aaahh," Ethel winced. "This is faring worse than I presumed."

"What more, he is obnoxious and egocentric. He creates an entirely modern twist to the legend of Narcissus," Emma berated. "I know that he is your grandson. And don't be mistaken, that I don't love you any less today than the day I met him. But really Ethel, the man has a terrible problem with his att.i.tude."

"I agree," said Ethel.

"I know that you will hate me for saying all this...," Emma suddenly braked mid-way through her sentence and stared at Ethel, stunned beyond words. "What? You...agree. You mean you knew he was going to be such a pain and yet you set up a date between him and I? Why?"

"He was just being protective."

"Of you? Why? What could I possibly do to you?" Emma asked, baffled.

"It's what I suggested I would ask you to do."

"I don't understand," Emma said, confounded by the turn in the conversation.

Ethel sighed tiredly. She hung her head in deep thought. "Christopher rushed home because he thought I was suffering from a severe bout of cold," she said slowly. "So naturally he wasn't too happy about the false pretences. But when I dropped the bombsh.e.l.l of the date, he didn't take it too well."

"Ethel!" Emma cried. "You basically cornered him into going out with me."

"I know, I know," she replied, nodding her head profusely. "But I have my reasons. So hear me out before you rush into pa.s.sing a judgment."

Emma scowled. "Alright," she said after a little while. "I might as well hear it all."

Ethel took in a deep breath before she continued. "I am ninety years old Emma. And I've buried almost everyone I've ever loved. All that keeps me going is Christopher. When Mary died five years ago, my heart almost broke. Christopher had moved on with his life and he really has no intention of returning to continue with the family businesses. The idea that Mrs. Deanna Boyd and her sons taking over it cringes me absolutely. But I really don't have a choice, do I?" Her eyes focused on the silvery picture frames that encased photographs of Hannah and Jai. She remained quiet as she studied the little red woollen hat Hannah was wearing and the yellow daffodil she held in her hands. "The businesses have been in the Kinnaird family for so long. It would be unfair if I refuse to pa.s.s it on to someone who would take good care of it only because their mother is such a twit." She transgressed into another lapse of silence. "Christopher has had a problem with women. He's never been able to hold a relations.h.i.+p with one. It was always one blonde dunce to another. All they ever really saw in him was a stepping stone to stardom and fame. Christopher is no fool, I can tell you that. But he keeps giving a blind eye to such women. He keeps them hanging at his arm. It baffles me as to the reasons but the fact is that he does." Her eyes glazed, her thoughts tapering into her memories. "Probably it was because he never had a mother. I tried my best but...maybe it's not the same..." Her voice withered into a whisper, gradually growing silent. She sat there still, a.s.sessing herself.

Emma watched her and when she didn't talk any more, she grew worried for her old friend. "Ethel," she said, leaning forward to caress her arm.

Ethel turned to her and smiled. "And then I met you. And Hannah. And Jai. You've all been the joy of my life these past three months."

Emma smiled back and affectionately rubbed Ethel's arms. "So have you been, Ethel. To all of us."

Ethel straightened up. "That is why you should marry Christopher."

"What!" Emma exclaimed, her mouth dropped in shock, taken aback by the sudden proposal. "Ethel, that's preposterous!"

"What's preposterous about it? You're single and so is Christopher."

"Yes, but that is no basis for a marriage. I hardly know him. And I can't say I like him much after that disastrous date."

"So what? He's nice. Once you get to know him."

"Ethel, you would say that. He is your grandson," Emma replied wryly, rolling her eyes. "I, on the other hand, see him from an entirely different perspective."

"Emma, I'm dying," Ethel blurted.

Emma watched Ethel critically. "You've got to be joking. That's really low, Ethel. Especially coming from you. Trying to emotionally blackmail me to get me married to Chris. I didn't expect that from you. Why would..."

Ethel sighed again interrupting her. "Christopher has agreed."

Emma sat back, shocked. "What?"

"Christopher has agreed," Ethel repeated. "I wanted to let you know that. Of course, he will come and talk to you about it. But he insisted I break it to you since I'm bent on having it."

Emma was silent, stupefied by what Ethel was asking of her.

"I'm in my last stages of life, Emma," continued Ethel. "All I'm asking is that those I love be with me while I finish this ending lag of living. I want to see Christopher settled. I want to be a.s.sured that he will be fine once I close my eyes for the very last time. With a woman who I know will keep him happy."

"He doesn't love me," mumbled Emma, close to tears.

"He will. Once he gets to know you like I do, he will love you. He's my grandson. I know him. I know what he needs. He fails to recognise it but my old eyes do not."

"I have children, Ethel. I can't just jump into a marriage without knowing the man."

"Do you trust me, Emma?"

"What a question, Ethel," Emma blurted annoyingly. "Of course, I do. But it is Chris, I don't know."

"Then you don't trust me," Ethel said. "I love your kids. I would never hand them over to anyone who might harm them in the least possible way. Not even my own grandson. But Christopher is soft and gentle. He won't show it though. He hates to be seen that way."

"I need to give it some thought, Ethel," Emma said in a low voice. She looked over at Ethel's tired greying eyes and her own watered at the prospect of losing Ethel.

"Okay," Ethel said, nodding her head. "I understand." She stood up and started walking slowly to the door.

"Ethel," said Emma. "It doesn't mean I don't care. It's just that it's a big decision."

"I know," Ethel said giving her a small smile. She turned again and began walking. At the door, she paused. "Emma, if it is about Richard Winston, I want you to know that he will never make you his wife."

A tear scrolled down Emma's cheeks.

"It's hard to accept, Emma," said Ethel. "But he has never fought to make you his."

"I have to try."

Ethel gave a small pat on her arms and walked out, leaving Emma shaken at her front door.

Emma's mind raced over all that Ethel had said. Her hand trembled, anxiety filling her as she tried to prepare for her children's return from school.

A series of fretful knocks rapped at the door. She was hesitant to open it. She was too agitated to face anyone right now. But the knocks grew louder and more persistent.

Anger overpowering her annoyance, she marched to the front door and flung it open. It was Chris Cameron staring at her, his face flaming with rage.

"I want to talk to you," he bellowed.

"Well, I'm in no mood," she snapped back and pushed the door to shut it. But he put a foot into it and forced it open.

He walked by her roughly and into the house. "I believe you used a few choice words to describe me to my grandmother."

"Oh, she told you did she?" Emma smirked.

"More like riled. She was throwing a terrible fit of anger. And thanks to you, I've had to call the doctor in because she almost suffered an oncoming heart-attack."

Emma froze, her legs trembled under her. "How is she? Is she alright?" she said, her voice shaking with the fear of losing Ethel. She rushed to the door but Chris blocked it before she could get to it.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled.

"Get out of the way," Emma threatened. "I need to see her."

"No you won't. You've done enough for one day."

"I've done?! You're the one with the att.i.tude! Why can't you be civil for once!"

"With you?" he said, mincing the words slowly. "You deliberately conned my grandmother into this scheme. You knew the word about town that she wanted me settled. It's all over Skye. Don't you deny it. I saw the company you kept at the dance. And now you pretend that you don't want to get married, playing the virtuous bride so that she can grovel at your feet!"

"That's not true!"

"Well, you can deny it all you want, but the fact is she's got her eyes and heart set on you. And no matter how much I try, she will not hear another word of it. I love my grandmother. She's all I got. And if that means that I have to marry you to keep her well and happy, then so be it! Just to let you know, I don't know what she sees in you. All you are is just a conniving tramp who married her first husband for the same reasons. Money! And now that he's dead leaving behind a scandalous past of debts, bribery, affairs and G.o.d knows what, it leaves you no chance to another rich husband. Come on, admit it, Emma, no respecting man amongst the London social elites will dare touch you after the way he was allegedly murdered for his underground business dealings. So you decided to opt for the next best thing. Move to Skye and try your luck at convincing an old woman to make you a bride for her celebrity grandson!"

"How dare you!" she screamed with rage. She rose her hand to strike him in the face but he caught it by the wrist.

He clasped it tightly, pulling her roughly to him. "Why such a fuss, Emma? Isn't it what you wanted? You deliberately bought a property no one wanted only because it was next to the Kinnairds. The very reason that caused previous owners to sell out is what attracted you to it most."

"I hate you," she snapped angrily. "I...I don't love you. I will never..."

"Oh right," he spat out. "You love your brother-in-law. You've had an affair with him long before you married his brother. What baffles me is why choose the corrupt, deceased brother over the established rich one?"

"Let me go," she screamed.

"I wish I could," he smirked. "But you see my grandmother won't have it any other way." He lurched back from her. "I will take you to this Richard Winston and you will for once and all decide if it is he you want to be with. If he will not have you, I will marry you. But be warned. If my grandmother dies from any of this, I will make it my personal vendetta to destroy you."

Her colour drained from her face. Trembling, she grasped onto the banister of her staircase to steady her warbling legs.

He continued sternly, "Once the children arrive from school, I will have Theodore pick them up. You will then prepare yourself to leave for London. I will come and get you at five o'clock this evening. And you had better be ready when you do."

The last was a threat and she knew he meant every word of it.

CHAPTER 13.

Three hours later after Chris had picked her up from her house, she was standing in her hotel room in Central London. He had made certain this time she got her own room. She presumed he didn't want to be sharing one with, what he termed her as, "tramp". She s.h.i.+vered in anger.

But she was worried for Ethel as well. She had grown extremely fond of the old woman and no matter how much she tried to convince herself that the ludicrosity of the idea of a marriage to Chris Cameron was Ethel's own problem, she could not help feeling worried for her.

Chris, meanwhile, hadn't spoken much during their entire trip, either in the car or the helicopter they caught at Ashaig airport.

She waited thirty minutes in her hotel room, pacing it anxiously before calling for a taxi to pick her up at the front entrance of the hotel. Five minutes later, she darted out of her room, eyeing Chris' room as she did. She jumped into the taxi, spitting out Richard's address at the same time.

The taxi swerved through the busy streets of London. Streets that were at one time very familiar, now strangely felt foreign.

Dark clouds hovered in the night sky. A flash of lightning followed by a roaring thunder sparked occasionally.

At the Winston mansion, she spoke into the gate camera, hoping she would be heard above the clamorous clouds hovering in the dark sky.

"Sophia, it's me, Emma Winston," she notified the housekeeper.

"Of course, Mrs. Winston," she heard the housekeeper reply. The gate slid open.

The taxi dropped her off at the entrance of the large house.

A pudgy, short blonde woman with a bright smile greeted her at the doorway. "Mrs. Winston, how are you? How are the children?"

"I am well, Sophia, The children are good too. How have you been?" Emma said, smiling, even though she didn't feel like it.

"Oh, terribly lonely, Madam. Now it's just Mr. Richard in this great big house. At least before, he used to bring little Miss Hannah and Master Jai around," she sighed sadly. "We miss the children so much, Mrs. Winston."

Emma nodded her head, rubbing the woman's elbow in sympathetic agreement. "The house does seem lonelier."

Her eyes roamed the vast, decorative walls slowly. "Is Richard home, Sophia?" Emma asked.

"No. But he will soon. Would you like me to prepare a room for you?" she asked.

"No, that's fine. I'll be staying at a hotel. If Richard does come, would you tell him I'm waiting for him in the library. I'll stay until ten. If he doesn't arrive by then, I will probably see him at his office tomorrow."

"Yes, Madam. Would you like a drink while you wait?"

"No, that's alright. I'd rather not be disturbed," she said as she walked slowly to the large family library. She opened one of the double doors that shut the privacy of the room from the world beyond it. It was just as she first saw it.