Honor nodded. “That’s the worst. It isn’t like a regular scream. It’s low, eerie, sinister. Just hideous.”
“That’s awful,” Abby whispered, thinking it bloody well was.
Who could live like that?
“Yes,” Honor replied and her eyes went to the stairs before she moved to the refrigerator for ice. “We don’t have much time and that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“It isn’t?” Abby enquired and Honor shook her head.
“I wanted to talk about Alistair,” she told Abby and dumped some ice into Cassandra’s drink.
Abby’s body went solid and she had to force herself to pour the wine while querying, “What about him?”
“He’s dangerous.”
Abby stopped pouring the wine, stared with stunned, frightened fascination at Honor and breathed, “What?”
Honor came close, took the bottle from Abby and began to fill the glasses, all the while talking swiftly. “He’s not a good man. I don’t like him. Neither does Fenella. We never did. When Daddy died Mummy…” She stopped and Abby watched her force a swallow, betraying an intense emotion that made Abby’s heart go out to her before she forged ahead. “Things weren’t good for Mummy. She was…” Honor halted again and finished with the wine, putting the bottle on the counter. “Let’s just say, she had to marry Alistair. She didn’t marry him because she loved him, she married him because she needed to find a way to take care of us and she had no choice.”
“Oh Honor,” Abby whispered, feeling for Honor and definitely for Nicola, but Honor shook her head again.
“It’s okay, we’ve all gotten used to it. Even Mummy. The thing you have to know is, a long time ago, I found the diaries,” Honor told her.
Abby’s brows drew together in confusion “The diaries?”
“Yes, Lorna’s diaries,” Honor answered. “I found them in the library, years ago, and kept them hidden. I don’t think anyone even knows they exist.”
“Who’s Lorna?” Abby asked.
“Anthony and Alistair’s mother.”
Abby just looked at her, not knowing what this meant and Honor got closer, her eyes going to the stairs then back to Abby and she started speaking quickly again.
“See, Alistair isn’t a Beaumaris. Lorna was raped.” At this news, Abby sucked in breath and put her hand to the counter to hold on but Honor continued. “Some gardener did the deed and then took off. Very unpleasant. She never told her husband, I don’t know why. She should have. Maybe, back then, they didn’t talk about that kind of thing or he wouldn’t have believed her. Doesn’t matter, she didn’t. Before the rape, she was happy, except for Vivianna. She was in line for the axe from Vivianna, I just know it. From what Lorna wrote Vivianna was playing with her, getting ready to go in for the kill. He loved her, Richard Beaumaris did, you could tell from what she wrote. Except, after Alistair was born, Richard turned on her. He knew Alistair was not a Beaumaris, thought she’d cheated on him. His love died and Vivianna backed off when it did but Lorna never said a word.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible,” Abby whispered, her heart hurting, thinking about Cash’s grandmother living that sad life.
Honor nodded and gave Abby a look that said she definitely agreed but she kept talking hurriedly. “According to the diaries, regardless of how he was conceived, Lorna loved Alistair. She loved both her boys. Anthony and Alistair never got on, though. Lorna thought it was as if Anthony could sense what made Alistair. Furthermore, Alistair was not a nice kid, she loved him but he did things that scared Lorna. Scared and confused her. Things, I think, she only told her diary.”
“That’s not good,” Abby muttered.
“No, it isn’t,” Honor agreed. “And he hasn’t changed. Really hasn’t changed. So much so, I think he could, and probably did, meddle with the brakes on Anthony’s car.”
Abby felt her eyes grow wide and her fingers clenched the counter anew while she breathed, “No.”
“Yes,” Honor returned, “Alistair hated Anthony as much as Anthony hated Alistair. Fenella told me what Angus McPherson said and it all makes sense. He had motive. Hatred, of course. But Anthony was spending all his time in Scotland with Myra and then Cash came along. If Anthony was going to move to the castle with his family, it’s likely he was going to kick Alistair out.” Abby nodded that this made sense and Honor went on. “But, the thing you have to know is, this means Alistair doesn’t own the castle. Cash does. True and legal. All Cash has to do is ask for a DNA test.”
The importance of this news hit Abby like a physical force and she rocked back. Honor either didn’t notice it or more likely was on a mission to get all of her story out before the others returned.
“I had a solicitor friend of mine look at it and the castle’s covenant is precise. First, the castle never, but never, goes out of the hands of a blood Beaumaris, which Cash is and Alistair isn’t. Second, it’s passed down from father to son. Always father to son. If there is no son then to a daughter. Only to a brother if the castle’s master dies without any heir. My friend looked up some records and Anthony was having the covenant scrutinised when he died in order to alter it so Cash could inherit. But, in the end, he didn’t have to. Regardless of Cash’s legitimacy, he was the next in line to inherit. Anthony knew that. Alistair knew it too. Cash was too young and Cash’s mother too crazy and too poor to fight it but my friend says it was all his, all the lands, all the money, all the investments, all the businesses, and especially Penmort. It’s always been Cash’s. Always. All this time,” Honor finished.
Abby found she was breathing heavily and they heard the others approaching so Honor leaned in, took hold of Abby’s upper arm and her voice was soft but urgent.
“I’ve put the diaries in a safe deposit box but I’ve copied the pages about the rape and I have them with me. Before I leave, I’ll put them somewhere and tell you where to find them. And I’ve written down the information on the box and will leave you the keys so you can take Cash there,” Honor told her.
“Why?” Abby asked and her voice sounded strangled so she repeated it, “Why? Why are you telling me this? Why are you doing this? For Cash? To Alistair?”
Honor’s face changed, pain, anger and heartache, likely for herself and even for her mother and sisters, all chased through it but as feminine feet came down the stairs all she said was, “You love him and, because of that, I can trust you. And I know Cash is a good man. I also know Alistair is not.”
And her tone said eloquently that her words about her stepfather were true.
Abby had no time to deny her love for Cash or thank her or give her the hug she probably desperately needed as the others arrived.
Honor’s hand dropped from her arm and Abby watched as the guard slid back over her expression.
“Cash’s whole house is gorgeous!” Fenella shrieked.
“It’s impersonal,” Mrs. Truman announced. “This is the only room that’s homey.”
Nicola’s eyes were on Abby, her face soft, and she said, “I think the house is lovely but you’re right. This room is definitely the most welcoming.”
Abby watched as Nicola’s hand reached out and her fingers touched a hyacinth on the bar. Then she smiled at Abby, indicating she knew exactly why the rest of the house was cold and this room was warm.
Abby, still reeling from her conversation with Honor, gave Nicola a weak smile and quickly looked away.
As Honor started handing out drinks, Abby stiffly started to make Jenny’s Manhattan, her mind awhirl with an all new set of earth-shattering worries.
“You okay?” Jenny whispered and Abby, not having noticed her friend had gotten close, jumped.