Since the conservatory opened directly off the marble-floored entrance hall, Paula heard Jim's footsteps the moment he entered the house. She was standing near the fading hydrangea plant, holding the discolored leaf in her hand, and she turned, expectancy and warmth filling her face.

"h.e.l.lo, darling," she said, as he came down the two steps, and moved swiftly toward him, her eagerness to see him most apparent.

"h.e.l.lo," he replied.

They met in the center of the room. He gave her a light kiss, then lowered himself into a chair without saying another word.

Paula stood staring down at him, puzzlement in her eyes. He had sounded so apathetic, and the kiss was so perfunctory she knew he was not himself. She said instantly, "Is there something the matter, Jim?"

He shook his head. "Just tired," he said, smiling that bland, dismissive smile she had come to know so well. 'There was an accident on the Harrogate road, quite a pileup of cars because of it, and it slowed the. traffic. We crawled along for miles. Frustrating . . . exhausting, actually."

"How awful. I'm sorry. That's all you needed. Let me fix you a drink," she suggested, not entirely satisfied with this explanation but making up her mind not to press too hard for the moment.

"That's a good idea," he exclaimed in a stronger tone. "Thanks, a gin and tonic should hit the spot."

"I'll just go for some ice," she said and made to leave the conservatory.

"Ring for Meg. She can bring it." He frowned. "The bell's not broken again, is it?"

"No, but it'll be quicker if I go," Paula said, pausing with one foot on the step, glancing over her shoulder.

"I wonder sometimes why we have a maid," he said with a hint of irritation, looking up, leveling his pale grayish blue eyes on her.

She stared back at him, detecting criticism in his tone and manner, but she remarked with evenness, "She's awfully busy right now, and anyway Grandy brought us up not to be overly dependent on servants, as I've told you so many times." Not waiting for a response, she hurried out, but she heard his pained sigh as she went into the hall. Maybe it is only weariness, a hard day at the paper, the difficult drive' home, plus the hectic weekend, Paula thought, endeavoring to persuade herself that these were the real reasons for his peculiar mood. He wasn't often moody, at least not exactly like this! As she pushed open the kitchen door, she noticed she was still holding the leaf. It was mangled in her hand.

Relax, she instructed herself, his moodiness means nothing. He'll be more like himself after a drink.

Meg said, "Do you think I've made enough canape's, Mrs. Fairley?" She indicated the silver tray, pausing in herjwork.

"Yes, that's plenty, Meg, and they look delicious. Thank you. Could you fill the ice bucket, please?" Whilst the maid busied herself at the refrigerator, Paula threw the leaf in the rubbish bin and washed her hands at the kitchen sink.

]im had risen in her absence, and he was standing looking out into the garden when Paula went back to the conservatory with the ice. His face was in profile; nonetheless she could not fail to miss the morose curve of his mouth, and when he swung around, his eyes were vague.

Questions flew to her tongue, but she bit them back and hurried to the skirted table, which held bottles and a tray of gla.s.ses. Pouring his gin and tonic, she said without turning around, "I thought we'd have drinks in here later, or do you prefer the drawing room?"

"Wherever you wish," he replied in a disinterested voice.

Striving for a normal manner, she continued steadily, "Did you book at the Granby after all, Jim?"

"Yes. We have a table reserved for eight-thirty. Anthony called earlier today and said they wouldn't be able to get here until seven fifteen. That gives us an hour to relax."

"Yes." Anxiety was rising in her. He was strange, there were no two ways about it, and she wondered if their quarrel of the previous evening still lingered in the back of his mind, rankled perhaps! But why would it? He had won, and anyway he had teen chatty and pleasant at breakfast. But she resolved to get to the root of whatever was bothering him. She also decided'to have a vodka and tonic, even though she hardly ever drank hard liquor.

Jim seemed to visibly cheer up as he sipped his drink. He lit a cigarette and asked casually, "Heard from anybody today?"

"Emily, Merry O'Neill. And Grandy, of course. She rang me just after you left this morning to let me know she was going to London for a few days." Paula now looked directly at him, took a deep breath. "Why are we making small talk, Jim, when you're troubled? I know something's wrong. Please tell me what it is, darling."

He was silent.

She leaned forward intently, her unwavering eyes holding his. "Look, I want to know what's bothering you," she insisted.

Jim sighed heavily. "I suppose there's no point putting it off... I had a bit of a set-to with Winston today, and-"

Paula laughed with relief. "Is that all! Well, you've had clashes with him before, and they always blow over. So will this-"

"I've resigned," Jim announced flatly.

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, totally at a loss for words. Slowly she put down her drink. Her dark brows drew together in a frown. "Resigned?"

"As managing director of the company, that is," he added quickly. "Effective immediately."

Thunderstruck, she continued to gape at him. She found her voice and it rose slightly as'she asked, "But why? And why didn't you mention it to me, tell me what was on your mind? I simply don't understand ..." She did not finish her sentence, sat tensely in the chair.

"There was nothing to discuss. You see, I didn't know I was going to resign-until I did."

"Jim, this is perfectly ridiculous," she said, attempting a laugh. "Just because you had a little row with Winston doesn't mean you have to do something as drastic as this . . .. after all, Grandy has the final word, you know that. She appointed you; she'll reinstate you at once. She'll put Winston straight, deal with him. Look, I'll speak to her tomorrow, ring her first thing in the morning." She gave him an encouraging smile, but it faltered as he held up his hand with an abrupt movement that was uncharacteristic.

"I'm afraid you're misunderstanding me. Winston didn't force me to resign or anything like that, if that's what you're thinking. I did so of my own accord. I wanted to, and rather badly, although I must admit in all truthfulness that I didn't realize this until the opportunity presented itself. So I certainly don't want to be reinstated.'

"But why not, for heaven's sake?" she cried, her perplexity and concern mounting, rising to the surface to cloud her face.

"Because I don't like the job. Never have. When Winston came to see me this morning, he asked me point-blank if I wished to continue as managing director; and as he was speaking, I knew-really knew, Paula-that I didn't. I've never been particularly good at administrative work or interested in it, and I told Winston so, and he said he'd sensed this for some time. He pointed out that perhaps it would be better if I stuck to journalism, ran the papers but not the company. I thoroughly agree with him, so I stepped down. That s all there is to it, actually," he shrugged, smiled faintly, "All there is to it," she echoed incredulously. She was aghast at what he had done and at his att.i.tude. "I don't believe I'm hearing you say these things. You're acting as if it didn't matter, as if this wasn't serious, when it's terribly serious. And you're being so cavalier, so dismissive, I'm absolutely staggered."

"Don't get so het up. Frankly, I'm filled with relief."

"Relief should be the last thing on your mind," she said in a small dismayed voice. "What about duty? Responsibility? Grandy showed a great deal of faith in you, put her trust in you when she appointed you managing director last year. I think you've let her down and rather badly."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Paula, because I must disagree with you. I haven't let Grandy down," he protested. "I'm still going to be managing editor in charge of two of the most important newspapers in the Consolidated group. I'll be doing what I do best, being a newspaperman and a d.a.m.ned good one at that." He sat back, crossed his legs, and returned her penetrating stare with an unblinking gaze. His expression was adamant!

"And who's going to run the company, now that you've stepped down?"

"Winston, of course." "You know very well he doesn't want that job."

"Neither do I.

Paula's lips drew together in aggravation. Another thought struck her, and she exclaimed fiercely, ."I hope this sudden and rather extraordinary decision of yours doesn't mean that Grandy will have to cancel her trip with Blackie. She really needs that holiday. What did she say? I presume you've told her."

"Naturally I've told her. Winston and I walked over to the store at lunch' time for a meeting with her. Your grandmother accepted my resignation, Winston's agreed to take the job, and he didn't seem very perturbed about the idea either. Grandy isn't going to cancel her holiday-rest a.s.sured of that." He leaned forward and clasped her hand in his. "Come on, relax. You're the one who's more upset than anyone. Grandy and Winston respect my decision. They didn't quibble. In fact there was very little discussion ... it was rather cut and dried, actually."

"You've simply misunderstood their reactions," she murmured, filled with misery.

Jim laughed. "Now you're being ridiculous, Paula. I know them both very well, and I can a.s.sure you that everything is all right."

Paula could think of no easy reply to this statement. She was astonished at his lack of insight, and his a.s.sumption that things were on an even keel showed extremely flawed judgment on his part. Jim obviously had no conception of what made her grandmother and Winston tick. She didn't have to think twice to know that they had accepted the situation because they had had no alternative. They would pull together to keep the company running smoothly. That's our way, she thought. We do our duty and accept responsibility, no matter how difficult that is. Things were far from all right, as he so glibly put it.

Jim was watching her, trying to ascertain what she was thinking, but her violet eyes were veiled, unreadable. He said anxiously, "Please try to see my point of view, understand my feelings about the situation. Your grandmother and Winston do. And don't let's argue about my resignation. Since it's a fait accompli, this is all rather silly, wouldn't you say?"

Paula said nothing. She leaned back in her chair, extracted her hand quietly, and reached for her drink. She took a quick sip. There was a protracted silence before she said, "Jim, I do wish you'd reconsider . . . there are other things involved here. Grandy was going to tell you this herself later in the week, but I know she won't mind if I tell you now. She's going to change her will. At the moment her shares in the newspaper company are part of the a.s.sets of Harte Enterprises, which as you know my cousins are to inherit. But she's decided to leave the newspaper shares to the twins-our children-so I know it's important to her that you're totally involved with the newspaper company and on every level. I don't care what she said to you this morning, I'm absolutely convinced she's terribly disappointed deep down because you've chosen to step away from the managerial side-"

Jim's brief laugh stopped her short. She looked at him, searched his face, wondering'if she had imagined the edge to that laugh.

He said patiently in a soft, .smooth voice, "Paula, whether I'm managing director, managing editor, or both, or neither, for that matter, your grandmother will still change her will. She'll leave those shares to our children no matter what and for several good reasons."

"What reasons?"

"They're Fairleys for one thing, and then there's her guilt."

Paula blinked, for a second not understanding what he was getting at; then quite suddenly she had a flash of insight, and she stared at him intently. She hoped she had misunderstood the implication behind his words. She took a deep breath to steady herself and asked very slowly, "Her guilt about what exactly?"

"Wresting the Yorkshire Morning Gazette away from my grandfather, grabbing control of the company," he said offhandedly, lighting a cigarette.

"You make it sound as if she stole it!" Paula tersely exclaimed. "You know very well that your grandfather ran that newspaper into the ground, and that certainly had nothing to do with Grandy. You've said often enough that he was a brilliant barrister but a lousy businessman. Surely I don't have to remind you that the other shareholders begged Grandy to take over. She bailed them out-and your grandfather, for that matter. He made a lot of money on his shares."

"Yes, you're correct-especially about him mismanaging the paper-but 1 suppose he would have muddled through, limped along somehow, and retained control, if your grandmother hadn't swooped dovvn'.and scooped it up." He gulped some of his drink, drew on his cigarette.

"The paper would have gone bankrupt! Then where would your grandfather have been?" She glared at him. "In a mess- that's where!"

"Look here, Paula, don't sound so shocked. I'm only reminding you of the facts. We both know that Grandy ruined the Fairleys." He gave her an easy lopsided smile. "We're both adults, so we'd be rather silly if we tried to s%veep all that under the rug, just because you and I are married. What happened did actually happen, you know. You and I are not going to change it, and it's certainly nonsensical for us to quarrel about it now, so long after the event."

Paula recoiled, gaping at him. Dismay had lodged like a rock in the pit of her stomach, and she was shaking inside. As his words echoed in her head, her patience evaporated, the tension of the last few weeks rose up in her, and something snapped all of a sudden. "She no more ruined the Fairleys than I did! It just so happens that Adam Fairley and that eldest son of his, Gerald, did it all by themselves. Whether you want to believe it or not, your great-grandfather and great-uncle were negligent, stupid, self-indulgent, and very poor businessmen. And besides, even if she had ruined them, I for one wouldn't blame her. I'd applaud her for settling the score. The Fairleys treated my grandmother abominably. And as for your sainted grandfather, what he did to her was . . . was unspeakable!" She gasped. "Unconscionable, do vou hear! Fine upstanding young man Edwin was, wasn't he? Getting her pregnant at sixteen and then leaving her to fend for herself. He didn't even lift a finger to help her. As for-"

"I know all that-" Jim began, wondering how to placate her and stop this flow of angry words.

She cut him off peremptorily. "What you don't know perhaps is that your great-uncle Gerald tried to rape her, and believe you me, no woman ever forgets the man who has attempted rape on her! So don't start presenting a case for the Fairleys to me. And how dare you point a finger at my grandmother, after all she's done for you! Could it be that you're trying to gloss over your abdication of your duty to her-" Paula stopped herself from saying any more.- Her emotions were running high, and she was so furious she was shaking like a leaf.

A sudden chill settled in the room.

They stared at each other. Both of them were appalled. Paula's face was so white her deep blue eyes seemed more startling than ever, and Jim's face was taut with shock.

His distress prevented him from speaking for a few seconds. He was stunned by her outburst and dismayed that she had chosen to totally misconstrue his words-uttered idly and rather carelessly, he now had to admit.

He finally exclaimed with great fervency, "Paula, please believe me, I wasn't making a case for the Fairleys or pointing a finger at Emma. How can you possibly think I would do anything like that? I've always respected and honored her, since the first day I worked for her. And I've grown to love her since we've been married. She's a wonderful woman, and I'm the first to appreciate everything she's done for me."

"That's nice to know."

Jim caught his breath, cringed at her sarcastic tone. "Please, Paula, don't look at me like that. You've misunderstood me completely."

She did not reply, averted her face, and stared at the ma.s.s of plants lining the gla.s.s walls of the conservatory.

Jim jumped up. He grabbed her hands and pulled her'out of the chair, took- her in his arms. "Darling,please listen to me. I love you. The past doesn't matter; Grandy's the first person to say so. I was wrongto even bring it up. What they all did to each other half a century ago has nothing to do with us.Somehow we've gone off the rails because of this'. . . this discussion about my resignation. Everything liasbeen blown out of proportion. You're overly upset about nothing. Please, please calm yourself." As hespoke, he led her to a loveseat and pressed her down, seated himself next to her, and took her hand,looked deeply into her face.

He said, "Look, I agree with you, Paula-what my grandfather did was unspeakable. And he knew thathimself. He lived with a guilty conscience for the rest of his life. In fact his actions as a young man minedhis life in many ways. He confided that in me before he died. He never stopped regretting losing Emmaand their child, nor did he stop loving her, and at the end all he wanted was your grandmother'sforgiveness. When he was dying, he implored me to go to Emma and beg her forgiveness for everythingthe Fairleys had done to her, himself most of all. Don t you remember? I told you this, I spoke to Grandyabout it the night she announced our engagement."

"Yes," Paula said.

"I repeated everything to Grandy-his last words just before he slipped away. He said, 'Jim, it will be an unquiet grave I lie in if Emma does not forgive me. Implore her to do so, Jim, so that my tortured soul can rest in peace.' And when I told Emma, she wept a little, and she said, 'I think perhaps your grandfather suffered more than I did, after all.' And Paula, Emma forgave him. She forgave all of the Fairleys. Why can't you?"

She lifted her head sharply, startled by the question. "Oh, Jim, I-" There was a short pause before shefinished, "There's nothing for me to forgive. I think you've misunderstood me!"

"Perhaps. But you were so angry, shouting at me, going on about the Fairleys ..."

"Yes, I did lose my temper, but you riled me when you said Grandy had guilt feelings. I know her, and far better than you, Jim, and I'm convinced she doesn't feel guilty about anything."

"Then I was wrong," he said with a weak smile. "I apologize." He was relieved she sounded more normal.

"You're wrong about something else too."

"What's that?"

"The past. You just said that the past doesn't matter, but I can't agree with you. The past is always coming back to haunt us, and we can never escape it. It makes prisoners of us all. Grandy might give lip service to the idea that the past is no longer important, but she doesn't really believe this. She's often said to me that the past is immutable, and it most certainly is in my opinion."

"The sins of the fathers and all that-is that what you mean?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

Jim exhaled, shook his head.

Paula looked at him carefully. "I have a question. You might not like it, but I feel compelled to ask it." She waited, watching him closely.

He stared back at her. "Paula, I'm your husband, and I love you, and there should never be anything but complete honesty and directness between us. Obviously you can ask me anything. What's the question?"

She took a breath, plunged. "Do you resent Grandy? I mean because she's the owner of the Gazette and not you? If your grandfather had managed to retain control, you would have inherited the paper." '

Jim's jaw dropped in astonishment, and he gaped at her; then he laughed. "If I had any resentment-or bitterness or jealousy-I'd hardly be resigning as managing director. I'd be scheming to get the paper for myself-at least, to get as much power as I possibly could. And I'd have been dropping hints to you long ago to influence Grandy to leave the newspaper shares to our children ... so that I could get absolute control through their holdings. With that kind of clout at my fingertips, I would be kingpin in the company after Emma was dead. Actually, it would be mine in a manner of speaking, since I would be handling their business affairs until they came of age." He shook his head, still laughing. "Now wouldn't I have done that?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Paula admitted in a drained voice, feeling suddenly debilitated.

Jim-said, "Paula, surely you realize by now that I'm not money hungry, nor particularly ambitious for power. I like running the papers, being managing editor-I admit that- but I don't want to be involved in business and administration."