Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) by Penny Vincenzi

watch: she had learned to tell the time soon after her fourth birthday, and was never without one on her wrist. So far they had been plain, childish watches, but she was beginning to show an interest in more unusual varieties: another opportunity to collect. Barty had bought her a plain square silver one with a black strap which she had seen in the window of a second-hand jewellery shop and hidden in her cabin trunk for Jenna’s next Christmas present.
    Next week they were going to Ashingham, to see Billy; apart from wanting to see her brother before they went back to the States, she felt it was important for Jenna to meet the other part of her family, as dynamic in its own way as the super-rich, glamorous Elliotts were. Not only Billy and his wife, but the two little boys, growing up into their own heritage, a large farm in the heart of the English countryside. Much gratitude for this was due to Celia’s mother, Lady Beckenham, who had left it to Billy in her will. ‘Lady Beckenham had bought her son out, paid over the odds for it at a time when he needed the money,’ Billy wrote in a letter to Barty, ‘and it was hers to do what she liked with. Or her half anyway, Joan and I owning the other half.’
    That he had been able to buy half the farm years earlier had been entirely due to Lady Beckenham advancing him some money from her own estate; an act of both great generosity and foresight. Billy and Joan were superb farmers.
    ‘It’s such a beautiful place, Jenna, you’ll love it,’ Barty said. ‘Lots of horses and ponies, and places to play, and you’ll like the boys, I’m sure.’
    ‘And they’re my cousins?’
    ‘They are. Joe and Michael, I haven’t seen them for three years now, not since Lady Beckenham died. They’ll have changed a bit. Joe is named after Lady Beckenham, her name was Josephine, goodness knows how Billy knew, nobody else did, she was Lady Beckenham to everyone.’
    ‘Even her husband?’
    ‘Well – I think so. Nobody knew his name either, she always called him Beckenham, anyway. In front of people, that is.’
    Barty was silent, remembering that infinitely sad funeral, and the death of the indomitable old countess. She died exactly as she would have wanted, falling off her horse on the hunting field and never regaining consciousness. The funeral had been one of the very few occasions Barty had seen Celia near to breaking down.
    ‘And Joan, is she nice?’ said Jenna.
    ‘Joan is just lovely. Very warm and gentle but as tough as old boots at the same time. The dairy herd is her responsibility, so she needs to be, often up all night delivering calves, Billy says, and she’s won county prizes for her furrowing—’
    ‘What’s furrowing?’
    ‘It’s making straight lines with a plough, for planting crops. Used to be done with horses, but now they use tractors.’
    ‘I’d like to drive a tractor. I’ve seen photographs, Adele has taken lots, she showed me, clouds of birds follow you over the fields. I might try it when we go there to visit.’
    ‘Jenna,’ said Barty firmly, ‘there is no way you’re going to drive a tractor.’
    ‘I don’t see why not,’ said Jenna, smiling at her with appalling sweetness. ‘Anyway, when are we going? I can’t wait.’
    ‘Next Thursday.’
    ‘It must be lovely for your brother, having his own farm. I might have one when I’m grown up.’
    ‘What a good idea,’ said Barty.
     
    ‘Kit, won’t you let us publish you in New York?’
    ‘No, Barty, sorry. I can’t. You must see that would negate my decision.’
    ‘Not really. Here, have some more champagne. It’s very good, isn’t it?’
    ‘Very good.’ He smiled at her. ‘But you needn’t think it’s going to change my mind.’
    ‘Of course I don’t. Although your thinking is a bit confused. A lot of people seem to think you’re leaving because your mother won’t be there any more.’
    ‘As I keep saying, I don’t care what a lot of people think. She knows why I’ve