Anna Jacobs (14 page)

“Then allow me to do something I’ve been itching to do since early this morning.” He reached out to her shapeless felt hat, which was jammed down nearly to her eyes, removed it carefully and pulled the pins out of her bun, one by one.

She couldn’t move, could only sit there feeling tingles run through her when he touched her, feeling breathless, wonderfully alive in a way she had never experienced before. A man’s touch, she thought. I never realised what it can do to you.

He fluffed out her hair over her shoulders, leaned back and studied her, head on one side, smiling slightly. “There. That’s much better. Will you promise me one thing?”

She nodded.

“That you’ll never wear your hair like that again.”

“That’s an easy thing to promise. I’ve hated wearing it like that. It was just—wiser.”

“And your clothes? They were deliberately selected to make you look plain and lumpy, weren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to get you some new ones as soon as possible. These do the job only too well. If I hadn’t seen you this morning, I’d not have realised what you can look like.”

He reached for her hand and she let him take it, feeling a little shy. His skin was warm, his grip was strong and her hand felt so
right
in his.

“I think we’ll do well together, Serena,” he said quietly, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against it.

She closed her eyes for a moment as heat flooded through her body. But she wasn’t going to be passive about their marriage, she decided, so opened her eyes again and said firmly, “It won’t be my fault if we don’t get on well. I’m not—quarrelsome.”

“You’re brave and honest and pretty. Good qualities in a wife, I think.”

They sat quietly for the rest of the journey, but when they arrived at the Hall he grew thoughtful. “I think we should bring in reinforcements, Serena. I intend to keep you very safe until we’re married.” He was sorry to see all the pretty colour drain from her face.

“You think he’ll—try something else, then?”

“I think he’s desperate, my dear. I’ll come and sleep at the Hall tonight and ask Vic to do the same.”

“People will talk if you’re sleeping there before we marry. You know what they’re like in small towns. And there are one or two ladies in Tinsley who can be quite vicious about such things.”

“It’s your safety I’m thinking of. To hell with the gossips.”

“Fleming will hardly break into your house to kidnap me! He’s more likely to hammer on the front door with a doctor by his side and demand to see me, surely? In which case I can run out of the back.”

“I suppose so. And there are the two maids and Mrs Lonnerden living there. Look, I’m only a couple of hundred yards away at the end of the drive. I’d hear if there were trouble. In fact, they’d have to pass my house. Maybe if you were to share the bedroom with Pearl . . . ?”

“Yes, I’ll do that, I promise.”

“All right, then. And in two days’ time at most, we shall be married.”

Her heart started to beat faster at the thought. Married! It was such a momentous step to take, marrying someone whom she’d only just met.

But it was also a wonderful chance to have what other women had, what she’d been secretly longing for—a home of her own, a husband and children. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask?

And there was Marcus.

Chapter 6

Vic took Pearl and her things to the Hall after work and she insisted on sitting with him on the driving seat of the cab, even though that was a bit of a squash. As Dolly clopped along at her own pace he explained in detail what had been happening.

She stared at him in the moonlight her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re afraid her father will try to kidnap her and lock her away? It sounds like one of the stories I read.”

“Well, I heard Fleming myself. He as good as admitted that was what he intended to do when he tried to abduct her, though of course he pretended it was because she was mentally confused. If we hadn’t been there, he’d have succeeded, too.”

Pearl was silent for a moment or two. “What’s he like, your Mr Graye?”

“Marcus. He says we should call him Marcus.”

“Funny sort of employer, using first names.”

“Funny sort of world, now.” He glanced down at his artificial leg with a bitter twist of the lips. “Anyway, you’ve already met him.”

“Only once. You’ve spent a few days with him, so I wondered what he’s really like, underneath it all?”

“Kind. Sad sometimes. Still coming to terms with what he looks like now. I catch him staring at his face in mirrors and fingering that cheek. He’s not afraid to stand up to people, though, and fight too if necessary, even though his injuries aren’t fully healed. I respect that, respect him. I liked him when we were lads. He was quiet, but straight as a die.”

“What made him ask Miss Fleming to marry him, do you think?”

“Who knows? It’s partly the money, I suppose. She gets five hundred pounds a year, inherited from her godmother.”

“That’s a horrid reason for being married. I’d say no if I were her.”

“Not if the alternative was to be stuck in a lunatic asylum, you wouldn’t.”

She was silent for a moment. “It’s like something you read about in
Pearson’s Magazine
.”

He grinned at her and began to rein the horse in. “You and your adventure stories.”

“I like reading them, especially stories about poor girls standing up to evil men and winning. Hang on, I’ll jump down and open the gates.”

She’d jumped off the high cab seat before he could stop her, which gave him an anxious moment, but she’d always been nimble and better than most lads at climbing trees. She opened the gate and he told Dolly to walk on, then watched as Pearl rode the gate shut before fastening it carefully. When he was sure she was all right, he got down more carefully. He’d never again be able to leap around as she did, and that knowledge hurt sometimes. “I’ll take you up to the house then come back and unharness poor old Dolly.”

“I’ll do that for you, Vic lad.” Hill came hobbling forward out of the shadows. He hung his lantern on a wall hook and came across to the cab.

“Thanks.” Vic gave his horse an affectionate slap and lifted down Pearl’s bag. Hill knew more about horses than anyone he’d ever met and if the old man worked more slowly nowadays, he still did things properly and Dolly was very fond of him.

Inside the house they found Serena in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan and peering into it with a dubious expression.

Vic stared in surprise at her hair, which was tied loosely back with a black ribbon and made her look very different, then realised he was staring and tried not to. “Good evening, Miss Fleming. Here’s my Pearl come to stay with you.”

“Good. Um—you don’t know anything about cooking, do you, Pearl? Gladys has a sick headache and she’s gone to lie down. She looked dreadful, poor thing. And Ada’s busy with old Mrs Lonnerden. This stew was half-cooked so I said I’d keep an eye on it, but it doesn’t look very appetising. I’ve only ever watched people cook before so I’m not quite sure what to do to improve it.”

Pearl’s eyes lit up. She came forward to stand next to Serena and inspected the bubbling mixture. “She didn’t brown the onions and meat first, just boiled everything up. Here, you keep stirring so it doesn’t catch and let me have a look what they’ve got in the pantry. I love cooking.”

She picked up one of the two lamps that had been lit, because they hadn’t got gas lighting out here. That left half of the huge kitchen in shadow as she went across to explore the pantry. To her surprise the shelves were mainly bare, only those near the door containing anything. “Aha!” She pounced on something and came out waving it triumphantly. “Penny cubes. Don’t know what we’d do without them now.”

Vic smiled reminiscently at the sight of the bright red and white tin. “They were wonderful during the war, a real treat to drink if you could get hold of some boiling water.”

“Did they send things like this out to the troops then?” Serena asked in surprise.

“Oh, yes. We all looked forward to receiving those little red and white tins with our rations. I even knew one chap whose life was saved by his Oxo tin.”

“Go on!” Pearl scoffed. “You’re having us on.”

“No, really. He had it in his breast pocket and it deflected a piece of shrapnel that’d have gone straight into his heart, the doctor said. My friend carried that tin with him everywhere after that, said it was his lucky piece.”

“Well, I never! And did he survive the war?”

“I don’t know. I copped mine soon after and was shipped back to Blighty.”

He sat astride a chair exchanging banter with Pearl and politer remarks with Serena until Marcus came to join them, followed by Ada wanting food for her mistress.

“We’ll save yours,” Pearl called as the maid carried out a beautifully set tray containing only a small bowl of stew and a thin slice of bread.

The four of them sat down to eat in the warm glow of the lamps and the fire. The food was a definite improvement on the pallid mess Pearl had found and the men augmented their portions with chunks of rather solid bread.

“Was this baked by Gladys too?” Pearl asked with a grimace as she hacked through the heavy loaf to give Vic another slice.

Marcus looked up, spoon poised near his mouth. “She’s doesn’t pretend to be a trained cook, she’s just doing her best.”

“I could take over the cooking if you like,” Pearl volunteered.

“That’d be wonderful. Someone had better go up and see how Gladys is as soon as we’ve finished eating.”

Ada came in as he was speaking, carrying the tray with an empty bowl on it. “I looked in on her and she’s all right, sir. She’ll sleep for a few hours and then she’ll be better tomorrow. She has these bad heads regularly, poor thing.” She took the tray into the scullery. “That’s the first time Madam has eaten all her supper. I told her Miss Diggle cooked it and she wants to meet her and Miss Fleming tomorrow. She’s not happy at having people she doesn’t know living in her house, but the stew helped. She used to enjoy her food until Cook died.”

“It’s
my
house now, Ada,” Marcus corrected quietly.

“I know that, sir, but you’ll never change her.”

Pearl got up and served the maid a bowl of stew. Ada sat down, looking uneasy in such company.

“Eat up,” said Marcus. “You’ve earned it. And no one has time to set a table for me and Miss Fleming in another room, so you’ll have to put up with our company.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the meal, they went in search of a suitable bedroom and both Pearl and Serena agreed on one at the front of the house.

After he’d helped carry the women’s luggage up, Vic hesitated and looked at his fiancée. “Are you sure you two will be all right?”

“Of course we will,” Pearl scoffed. “No one’s going to break in and kidnap us, are they? I know the difference between real life and stories, my lad. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise we’ll lock our bedroom door.” She turned to see Marcus speaking quietly to Serena and whispered, “I think he really likes her. It’s not just her money he wants.”

He followed her gaze and smiled. “I think you may be right.” But as he and Marcus got ready to leave the house, he felt uneasy. “I don’t like leaving them here on their own here, Marcus.”

“No. I don’t, either. But I’m trying to avoid gossip by sleeping at the Lodge. You know what people are like. Serena’s got enough trouble on her plate without falling foul of those old biddies in town.” He went across to a rack of keys and took the spare one for the back door, locking the latter carefully behind them and slipping the key into his pocket.

When they got to the Lodge, Vic hesitated. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay here tonight, just in case. I don’t know why but I feel—well, worried.”

“So do I.” Marcus stared towards the darkened mass of the big house. “For two pins I’d go back to there again.”

“That might frighten them now.” Vic shrugged. “Ah, he won’t come after them during the night, not if he’s got a doctor ready to swear Serena’s lost her wits. And we can run across in a couple of minutes if they need us. I’ll sleep down here on the sofa.”

“We’ll both sleep down here,” Marcus corrected and brought across a footstool, setting it in front of the big armchair. “I’ll just fetch some blankets.”

“I’ll go. You need to rest that leg. And I’ll keep first watch, eh?”

* * * *

In the middle of the night Serena woke with a start. She was a light sleeper and was sure she’d heard a door bang somewhere. She listened intently, her heart beating fast and it seemed to her that she could hear faint noises from inside the house. If the door banging hadn’t woken her, she’d have thought nothing of the noises—and indeed this would probably turn out to be a false alarm. But thinking of Fleming’s ruthlessness, she decided it was better to be safe than sorry and nudged Pearl awake, whispering, “I may be worrying about nothing but I’m sure I heard someone moving around downstairs.”

Pearl sucked in her breath. “If we hear anything else we’ll get up and dress. No one’s catching me in this old flannel nightdress. Why my Mum packed this one, I don’t know.”

They went to listen at the door. A stair creaked, then another.

“There
is
someone,” Pearl gasped. Without speaking they flung on their clothes anyhow, then she went to look out of the window, muttering in annoyance as the moon went behind the clouds. “I reckon I could climb down that drainpipe and fetch Vic.”

Serena went to stand next to her and as the moon emerged from the clouds, she could see the nearby drainpipe clearly. It looked very thin and the ground seemed a long way below them.

Suddenly a woman’s voice cried out and cut off abruptly from a room in the other wing.

“That’s Mrs Lonnerden!” Serena said.

“They’re checking all the rooms.” Pearl tied the laces of her shoes and flung the window wide open. She slung her legs over the sill then swung sideways to the drainpipe with an ease Serena envied. It didn’t seem to take her a minute to climb down to the ground, from where she beckoned vigorously.