Chapter 7 Part 3

Update time：2012-02-02 03:47 Authors：Serena

Next morning every headline shrieked the news of Barney’s arrest. The City hangs its head in shame. Reporters were confident that further revelations would enfold. Speculation about the sum Barney was alleged to have raked in was rife and ranged from anything between four and seven figures. There were highly coloured accounts of his executive life style, his expensive tastes, his penchant for celebs and game show hostesses. The one thing that united the press was its unanimous condemnation of this heinous crime.

The media kept up its relentless denunciation of what was dubbed Scandal City and the following week there were graphic accounts of Barney’s first appearance in court. His lawyer applied for bail but it was vigorously opposed by Counsel for the Prosecution, the eminent QC, Stefan Radulescu. Gemma gasped. The Crown was certainly rolling out its big guns. Stefan’s fee would be astronomical. According to the crime correspondent’s report, Stefan had opposed bail on the grounds that Barney would undoubtedly attempt to flee London for some steamy country deep in Latin America with which Britain had no extradition treaty. But despite a desperate counter-argument from Barney’s Counsel that his client was willing to surrender his passport to the police, the plea was dismissed. Barney was remanded in custody and marched down to the cells to face another further hearing at a later date.

So Stefan was prosecuting Barney! Gemma read the item with mixed emotions. Dismay was uppermost. From the little she knew of such trials, it was likely to be long and complicated. A dedicated advocate like Stefan would clear the decks to focus on the case. The evaluation of Speedwell would be sidelined. Gemma bit her lip; it was ironic that yet again Barney was responsible for wreaking havoc in her life. How could she possibly endure the wait? But it seemed to her she’d no option. To approach Stefan now to persuade him to make an early decision about Speedwell could well be counter-productive. He’d accuse her of being self seeking, demanding and grasping. Couldn’t she see he had more pressing public interest issues? So real did the remonstrating words sound in her ear that at first she didn’t hear the landline ringing with that shrill persistence that telephones possess.

It was a voice that took her some moments to recognise so many months having passed since she’d last heard it. ‘Mr Radulescu wishes you to attend at his flat in Eaton Square tomorrow evening in connection with the administration of your Uncle’s estate,’ Stefan’s clerk informed her pompously. ‘I believe you know the address, but in case you’ve mislaid it...’

Gemma let him intone on, her thoughts in a whirl. It was a bombshell and its unexpectedness made her feel deeply uneasy. ‘I’ll be there,’ she said forgetting to ask when she was expected to show.

‘Please present yourself at seven thirty.’ There was a sharp click as he crisply replaced the receiver.

It was early November and people sported Remembrance Day poppies. Gemma woke to a day of thick mist and the beginnings of what looked like being a very cold snap. Frost sparkled on the short winter grass of the heath. All morning a sense of tension enveloped her that hung on even after she’d thoroughly serviced and polished her bike, an activity which could usually be guaranteed to blow away the blues. The thick mist didn’t lift and on the radio she heard reports of pile ups in fog. Deciding it would be safer if she left the bike behind, she caught a bus to central London. She’d dressed carefully; over a brushed cotton shirt she donned a charcoal flannel trouser suit with a short peplum jacket. As morale booster she inserted diamante dove shaped earrings, taking pains with her make-up, carefully outlining her mouth with Estee Lauder woodland rose lipstick. Brandy/cinnamon eye shadow was stroked on her eyelids and luscious mascara to her eyelashes. Her hair was brushed loosely to her shoulders. She stared critically at her face, squirted herself with scent and immediately felt much better. There’s nothing like expensive cosmetics to give one Dutch courage.

Promptly at the appointed hour, Gemma rang the doorbell of Stefan’s apartment building and he buzzed her up. The lift swept her swiftly and silently to his top floor penthouse with its stunning views across London. His face looked drawn and grey as if he was badly in need of a long carefree holiday, she thought with a pang. He wore casual-smart.

‘Not sherry, of course,’ he teased pouring out vodka and tonic from an array of bottles on a glass console table.

‘You remembered!’ exclaimed Gemma taking the glass from him.

‘How could I forget?’ he returned with a smile.

He didn’t pour a drink for himself which was surely significant, she decided. It could mean either that he had another engagement that evening or he was unwilling to prolong the business in hand. That was ominous. The meeting was obviously intended to be short and sharp. She braced herself and took a nervous mouthful before asking quickly. ‘Why shouldn’t you forget?’ It sounded more truculent than she’d meant. But anyone in her position was entitled to show some emotion.

For a moment he seemed taken aback at her ungracious tone. ‘You do, of course, realise why I asked you here this evening?’

Gemma nodded, her nerves temporarily depriving her of speech, and laid the glass carefully on a side table. Her lips felt dry and she cleared her throat.

Stefan turned and flipped open a drawer of the contemporary lime wood desk. He withdrew a slim package tied round with pink tape and handed it to her.

Gemma stared down at it. ‘And this is...?’ She flashed him an anxious glance, her face pale with apprehension.

‘Open it and see for yourself,’ he suggested softly.

Gemma undid the tape with trembling fingers. Dark type on thick, creamy paper. That it was some kind of legal document was obvious.

‘Won’t you read it aloud?’ His voice was very gentle. As if in a dream she did as he bade her.

‘Stefan Radulescu...’ she began falteringly and then gaining in confidence continued ‘as Personal Representative of the said Arthur Wells hereby assents to the vesting in Gemma Elizabeth Wells (hereinafter called “the Beneficiary”) of...’ There followed the address of Uncle’s property.

The jargon meant nothing to her and she gazed at him puzzled.

‘I, as Arthur’s executor and trustee, have signed over to you ownership of his house. It’s all yours, as is the trust fund which, as you know, is considerable. You passed the test with flying colours, Gemma. Congratulations!’

Gemma was stunned. She said nothing but studied the contents of the Assent over and over again until she almost knew it by heart. It was incredible. She’d always thought that no matter how well she’d done, Stefan would pick holes in the Speedwell enterprise and find a good reason for withholding, if not the whole, then a sizeable part of the inheritance. She’d begun to believe that he didn’t approve of women of her age coming into a fortune.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she murmured at last. It dawned on her that she need never work again.

‘Well, this will loosen your tongue,’ Stefan said mischievously as he poured her another drink. This time he mixed one for himself and raised his glass to her.

‘A toast to you. Arthur would have been so proud. But I’m sure he can see you now, from up there, twanging his harp, rubbing his hands with glee and relishing this moment.’

‘To Uncle who had the last word.’ Gemma toasted her canny relative.

Stefan said quietly, ‘I expect it’s tinged with sadness.’ He reached out and touched her hand. ‘Baxter’s arrest must have comes as a shock.’ He grimaced. ‘I'm sorry I can’t be more reassuring or helpful for obvious reasons as I’m Senior Prosecuting Counsel. But believe me Gemma I’d do anything for your happiness.’

Gemma rose to her feet and crossed to the window, looking down into the road that skirted the square. The passing cars looked like dinky toys. ‘Yes. He is - was - I know, inclined to be rather casual about things. I’m sorry for him just as I’d feel sorry for anyone in the same position but no more than that. I’m hardly likely to take up my loom while he serves his sentence.’

Stefan stared at her. ‘What do you mean? What are you saying?’ Are you telling me Baxter means nothing to you?’ His breathing quickened.

Gemma returned to the stylish pale blue leather armchair and crossed her legs. Stefan seemed intense and very vulnerable. ‘Of course. I thought you knew that.’

Stefan bent over her his face very close to hers. ‘I have to be sure,’ he persisted, an urgent tone to his voice.

Gemma sensed the gravity of the moment. At any other time she might have made a flippant throwaway remark but this was different. She gazed at him steadily with wide blue eyes, her lips only inches away from his. ‘Barney may have thought he was making out with me but as far as I’m concerned it was platonic. Oh yes, I don’t deny it. I was lonely in my bid to make a success of Speedwell and so anxious to prove to you that I could make it - not just for the sake of the inheritance but also because...because I desperately wanted your approval. Barney just happened to be there with a muddled sort of support, in the right place at the right time, to use the cliché...’

‘And...’ Stefan’s eyes on her face were warm and gentle.

‘But how could I take someone like Barney seriously? He could have vaporised Speedwell.’

‘So there’s nothing between you and Baxter. Is that what you’re trying to say?’

‘That’s what I am saying,’ Gemma insisted softly. ‘I wanted and needed - you.’

Stefan reached out and took both her hands in his. ‘Dearest, darling Gemma. And all the time I feared you were Baxter’s. I felt so wretched - you seemed so remote - so far from me, so wrapped up in him.’

Gemma pressed his hand to her breast and held it there. ‘And all the time I was sure you didn’t care for me - that you were only concerned to be rid of me and that encumbering trusteeship as soon as decently possible.’

He framed her face in his hands, his lips meeting hers. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment we were ill met in the storm,’ he confessed. He took her hand in his and guided her across the room to the sofa. ‘I want you here beside me, so that I can feel you near me and real and not just a dream. I couldn’t bear it if you left me again. When you sped away from me after that night in the barn I could have kicked myself that I’d let you go without getting your address. I was so desperate to see you again that I was set to hire a private eye and pay just about anything to track you down. Then when I discovered in my chambers that day that you were Arthur’s niece, I couldn’t believe my luck. Fate delivered you into my orbit again. But, believe me, it was sheer hell seeing you trying to fulfil his conditions - seeing you having to cope with all the ups and downs. If I seemed somewhat cool at times it was only because I so desperately wanted to help but knew I mustn’t. That I had to keep myself at arm’s length. And if only you knew how tempted I was to nullify Arthur’s challenge.’ He kissed her as any lover might kiss his girl after a long absence.

Gemma gave a deep long sigh and stroked his forehead. ‘And you took your time!’ she reproved him gently. ‘And now I want to know about Con.’

Stefan’s head jerked up, his eyes brooding. ‘Con? What’s to know?’ He saw the pained expression in Gemma’s lifted eyes and relented. ‘Darling. She’s a super girl but there’s nothing between us save...’ he gave her a crooked, wicked smile and then kissed her again ‘...Pavel and Marianne’s son. He’s her fiancé. They’re getting married soon, as I hope we will.’ His fingers stroked her cheek and his arm around her tightened.

‘Very soon,’ Gemma murmured drowsily.

Stefan kissed her again fiercely and she kissed him back, their hearts beating together. All the misunderstanding, misery and wretchedness of the past few weeks melted away.

‘Arthur was right,’ he mused.

‘So you keep saying - in more ways than one. But which one in particular?’

‘You’ll like my niece Gemma, he said. One day, lad, you’ll get to meet and know her. She’s the lassie for you.’

‘And am I?’ Gemma couldn’t resist the query. There was a sub text of insecurity behind her seemingly teasing remark.

‘Well you’re not for Barney,’ Stefan said very firmly his face suddenly very taut and intense. He drew her to him again and they leaned against each other.

‘Poor old Barney,’ Gemma reflected, her eyes closed.

Stefan snorted. ‘Don’t waste another moment on him. He’s greedy and selfish.’

‘Then he’s found guilty even before his trial has begun,’ Gemma protested passionately.

Stefan shut his eyes as if it was a painful subject he preferred not to talk about. He pressed a finger to her lips. ‘I’m not judging him,’ he said patiently, shaking his head. ‘That’s for the jury.’

Gemma wound her arms round him. ‘You always have an answer to everything. You’re a clever, clever man and I love you in spite of that. But I can’t believe what’s happening to me,’ she said dreamily.

Stefan gave her a look that made the breath catch in her throat. ‘Neither can I, so for once we’re in agreement!’ He smiled and kissed her again. ‘But it is. And it’ll keep on happening darling, I promise you.’ He delved into his pocket and withdrew the most radiant, deeply hued sapphire ring set in white gold that she’d ever seen. ‘I adore you.’ He slid it on her finger. ‘It’s said Moses was given the Ten Commandments on tablets of sapphire.’

‘So it’s a precious, hallowed stone.’

‘You’re that, my divine Gemma and I want nothing more than to spend forever with you.’

It was what she’d longed to hear and as Stefan trapped her in his arms and kissed her demandingly, intimately there was no need for further words.

THE END