WUTHERING BITES

Chapter Twenty-four: Dinner Party

Chapter Twenty-four

Dinner Party

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters. Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiors had been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.