He shut down his computer, then unlocked a drawer, slipping into it his notepad, which by now contained the names of the leadingleisurewear founders, their last known addresses, and details of their attempts to sell off what was left of the company. Moreno had already formed another company under a different name. This meant he could be traced, and de Jersey had every intention of doing just that.
It had snowed heavily during the night, and on Christmas Day the de Jersey home resembled a picture postcard of idyllic country life. Christina adored Christmas. She had decorated with bunting and arrangements of silver holly and fir branches. The tree in the hall reached the ceiling and was trimmed with silver ribbons and baubles. Under it the piles of gifts were wrapped in exquisite paper and ribbons. She loved the smells that wafted through the house. She’d baked for days, making baskets of Christmas puddings, cakes, and mince pies for the staff and the local church. Natasha and Leonie had arrived home yesterday after spending a few nights with classmates at their Swiss chalet. At seventeen and fifteen, the girls both enjoyed skiing. They were stunning, with their mother’s crystal blue eyes and long, blond hair. De Jersey spoiled his daughters, but he was quite a strict father. Their friends were welcome to stay, as long as plenty of notice had been given. People were not encouraged to drop in; his family knew that he valued his privacy.
The annual Christmas Day party was in full swing. Christina distributed gifts to the staff and their families, and there was always a white envelope from the Boss, which contained a bonus.
De Jersey stood at the front door looking out with a lump in his throat. Royal Flush was walking sedately through the snow, carrying two baskets loaded with gifts from the staff to their employer. The horse was draped in a red velvet blanket with a sprig of holly in his forelock, and his breath steamed out in front of him. They surrounded de Jersey and sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” He approached his champion and stroked his nose. He was not about to lose all this, he thought. It was everything he had dreamed of possessing.
After receiving the gifts, de Jersey slipped away and was not missed for some time. Eventually, Christina sought him out in their bedroom and was surprised to find him changing into his jodhpurs. “Darling, what are you doing?”
“I need a ride. I won’t be long.”
“But lunch is soon. You said you wanted to sit down at four.”
“I’ll be back by then. Please, I’m sorry, I just need some air.”
He saddled up Royal Flush himself and rode toward the track on the outskirts of the farm, unmarked except for the footprints of foxes and birds. His lungs filled with the icy air as his thoughts turned to the problems he faced. He decided to leave first thing the following morning. He’d have his pilot arrange permission to fly into Heathrow’s private heliport and then take a flight to New York.
After lunch Christina carried in the blazing pudding and received great applause. Around her wrist was the delicate diamond bracelet that had been her husband’s present. He had given each of his daughters a special piece of jewelry too, as tasteful as their mother’s. He had received cigars, socks, and a flamboyant embroidered waistcoat from the girls. And Christina gave him a small oil painting of the stud farm circa 1910 that she had found.
They had coffee in the dining room and played word games in front of the roaring fire. At seven Natasha and Leonie went to change to go to a party. Christina curled up beside her husband, her arms loosely wrapped round his knees.
“I have to go to London tomorrow,” he told her. “I’m sorry, it’s business.”
“But it’s Boxing Day,” she exclaimed.
“I shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.”
She looked up into his face. “It’s to do with David, isn’t it?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, don’t do this. Since David’s death you’ve been acting so strangely. Please talk to me. Is it to do with him?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I’m meeting a banker who’s going to help me unravel the mess. I need to deal with it right away.”
“Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”
“You stay with the girls. The sooner I leave the sooner I can come home, but it might be three or four days.”
Christina threw a log onto the fire, then glanced at the mantelpiece; a Christmas card from the Queen was in pride of place. Her husband had been so pleased when he saw the crest on the envelope. He had always coveted acceptance in high-society circles, though she did not understand why. He had told her little of his past, and, not long before they met, his last relative, his mother, Florence, had died.
“Penny for them.” He kissed her neck.
“I was admiring the Queen’s Christmas card.”
De Jersey laughed.
“Why do you never talk about your family?” she asked suddenly.
“What brought this on?”
“You go away sometimes-inside yourself, I mean. I know this David business is on your mind, but you told me it’s not that serious. Then you have to go to see a banker on Boxing Day. It doesn’t make sense to me. If it is serious, why don’t you tell me, let me share it with you?”
“I’ve told you all I know.” De Jersey had to control his temper. “And my family-you know that my parents died a long time ago, sweetheart. You know all there is to know.”
“No, I don’t,” Christina persisted.
“Yes, you do,” he snapped. “And you’ve had too much champagne.”
“No, I haven’t.” She leaned against the mantelpiece watching her husband. “What was your home like, Edward?” she asked stubbornly.
He blinked rapidly. “Clean, neat, and tidy. My mother always said you could eat your dinner off her kitchen floor. We always had a Christmas tree in the front room window and paper chains all over the hall. There was usually a big fire-well, it seemed big, but the fireplace was small. It had pinkish tiles and two brass animals on either side.”
Christina stared at him. “You make it sound…”
“Clean, neat, and tidy,” he said.
“No, friendly,” she said.
“Yes, it was. Everyone loved my father and mother. Now, as I’m leaving tomorrow, I thought maybe we could retire early,” he said, cupping her breasts with his hands. They kissed passionately until he picked her up in his arms and carried her toward the stairs.
As Christina lay sleeping peacefully beside him, de Jersey moved a wisp of hair from her cheek. Their marriage had been so happy; his previous one seemed a lifetime ago. He had met Gail at a nightclub. She was the worst kind of spoiled “daddy’s girl.” Her father was a wealthy real estate agent with offices all over London. She was educated at Roedean, a top British private school, and attended finishing school in Switzerland. De Jersey was not a man who frequented nightclubs. Wilcox, a regular at every West End club, had cajoled him into going. This was before their last robbery. Wilcox seemed to have an endless string of women. In fact, it was he who had first known Gail Raynor and introduced them.
When de Jersey saw her dancing in the dim lights of the Piccadilly Blue Elephant Club, she had looked like a tempting angel. The Blue Elephant was the in place to be and be seen, always full of celebrities and famous socialites. Gail was waiflike, with auburn hair down to her waist. She wore miniskirts that showed off her beautiful legs and high, white Courrèges boots. She had an annoying nasal twang and haughty manner worse than that of her aristocratic “debby” friends.
“Can’t you sleep?” Christina murmured, interrupting his thoughts.
“No, just thinking.”
“About what?” She sat up, leaning on her elbow.