Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter

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      There was something strange in her expression—something he’d never seen before. And it chilled him to the core.

      Her voice, when she spoke was thin...thin like a needle. ‘You said I should buy out Pauline and Chloe’s share of Haughton...’ Something flared in her eyes like a black flame. ‘What with?’ The words were spat at him.

      Exasperation lashed from him. ‘Ellen, don’t be melodramatic,’ he said crushingly. ‘You could easily buy them out if you wanted. Pauline told me that you’d inherited everything else your father left—his stocks, his shares, all his other assets. She told me herself he was a very wealthy man.’

      He saw her face whiten like a bone. Bleach-white. The hand on his sleeve seemed to spasm. But when she spoke her voice was very calm. Too calm.

      ‘Let me tell you something, Max.’

      Her hand dropped like a dead weight from his arm. There was something odd about the way she was looking at him. Something that made him think of a mortally wounded animal.

      ‘Do you remember the night of that Edwardian ball? The jeweller who arrived with all that jewellery for hire? Do you remember I chose the rubies immediately?’

      There was something wrong with her voice too, and it made Max frown.

      ‘It was not just because they went with my gown. It was because—’

      And now there was definitely something wrong with her voice—with her eyes—with her white face and stiffened body.

      ‘Because they once belonged to my mother. I recognised them instantly—especially the ring. It was her engagement ring. And it was my great-grandmother’s before that—as was the rest of the parure. My mother liked the old-fashioned setting. But Pauline did not.’

      And now Ellen’s eyes had a different expression in them—one that Max found was causing the blood in his veins to freeze.

      ‘So she sold it. She sold a great deal of my mother’s jewellery, only keeping what she liked. Or what Chloe liked. They both like pearls, as it happens, in particular. The double pearl necklace Pauline was wearing when you came to lunch was my father’s tenth anniversary present to my mother, and the pearl bracelet Chloe wore was given to me by my parents for my thirteenth birthday. Chloe helped herself to it—said it was wasted on me. Wasted on me because I was nothing but a clumsy great elephant, an ugly lump, totally gross. And she never, ever missed an opportunity to remind me of that! Wherever and whenever. She made me a laughing stock at school for it, and has gone on laughing ever since—she’s mocked me mercilessly ever since her mother got her claws into my poor, hapless father!’

      Max saw her take a breath—just a light, short breath—before she plunged on. There was still the same chilling light in her eyes, in her voice.

      ‘When Pauline married my father he was, indeed, a very wealthy man. It was his main attraction for her, his money—she just loved spending it. And so she spent and she spent and she spent! She spent it all. All of it! She spent it on endless holidays to expensive places—spent a fortune on interior designers both at Haughton and for the flat in Mayfair she insisted on. And she spent it on couture clothes for herself and Chloe, and on flash cars that were renewed every year, and more and more jewellery for themselves, and endless parties and living the high life at my father’s expense.

      ‘She burned through the lot. He sold everything in the end—all his stocks and shares, and some of the most valuable paintings. He cashed in all his funds and his life insurance, just to keep her in the luxury she demanded for herself. He died with almost nothing except Haughton—and he left two-thirds of that to Pauline and Chloe. Pauline made sure of that when he had to make a new will once he’d remarried. Made very, very sure!

      ‘So you see, Max—’ there was a twisting in her voice now, like the wire of a garrotte ‘—there is absolutely nothing left of my father’s wealth except what Haughton represents, so it would be hard for me to buy out Pauline and Chloe on my teacher’s salary. That goes on paying for groceries and council tax and utility bills—and for my stepmother and stepsister’s essential expenses. Like having their hair done. Their little jaunts abroad, of course, are paid for by systematically selling off the antiques and paintings left in the house.’

      Her voice changed again, becoming mocking in its viciousness.

      ‘To be fair to them, that’s how I’ve decided I’m going to pay for the clothes I bought here in London. After all, why shouldn’t I get just a fraction—a tiny, minute, minuscule fraction—of what my father’s wife has taken? And by the same token, Max...’

      The pitch of her voice chilled his blood once more, and the venom in her eyes was toxic.

      ‘Why shouldn’t I be just a tiny, teeny bit...reluctant...to let that pair of blood-sucking vampires sell my parents’ home out from under my feet? Why damn well shouldn’t I? Because it’s all I’ve got left. They’ve taken everything else—everything! They bled my father dry and made his life hell—and mine! And I will loathe their guts for it till my dying day.’

      A shuddering breath escaped her, as if she were at the end of all her strength.

      ‘So now, if you don’t mind, Max, I’m going to go back to the place where I was born and raised, where I was once entirely happy until those...vultures...invaded it. The home I so fondly thought would one day be mine to raise my own family in, where I’d live out my days, but which is now going to be torn from me by my grasping, greedy, vile stepmother and stepsister, because it’s the only thing left they can take. And I’m going to make the most of it—the very most of it—until the law courts, or the bailiffs, or your security guards or whatever it damn well takes drive me out of it.’

      Her face contorted. She whirled around, seizing up her suitcase. He watched her stalk across the room, yank open the door, slam it shut behind her. Watched her while he stood motionless.

      Quite, quite motionless.

       Chapter Eleven

      HAUGHTON WAS BATHED in watery sunlight, turning the house and gardens to pale silver, but as she stepped inside misery filled Ellen to the brim—for her father’s ruin, her stepmother’s avarice, for her angry parting with Max, for parting with him at all.

      And for the loss of her home, which must come—now, or later, come it must.

      As she went into the kitchen she could feel a dull, dread awareness forcing itself into her consciousness. A new, bitter truth pushing itself in front of her.

       I can’t go on like this. I just can’t—not any longer.

      Stark and brutal, the words incised themselves into her consciousness. She felt a pit of cold, icy water in her insides, a knot of dread and resolve. She had to face it—accept it. She could not stay locked in her vicious, destructive battle with Pauline and Chloe. It was a battle she could not win in the end. A battle that was indeed twisting her, deforming her.

       I can’t stop them taking it from me. I can’t stop them and I can’t go on the way I have been. So all I can do is give in. Give up. Give up my home.

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