Anna Jacobs (23 page)

Eventually he could stand her nervousness and monosyllabic conversation no longer. “It’s about time we went to bed, isn’t it?”

“What? Oh, yes! Yes, of course.”

“I wonder, would you mind changing the dressings for me first? I hate to keep asking you but it’s necessary.” Relief showed on her face. It was definitely relief.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ll go and get a jug of hot water from the kitchen while you—um—get ready.”

She was up and out of the room before he could speak. That decided it. He wanted her but he wasn’t going to force himself on her. He’d never do that to any woman. She needed more time to get used to him, and who could blame her? Her life had been turned upside down in the past few days.

Wishing things were different between them, he turned off all but one of the oil lamps, wondering if it would be possible to get modern gas lights this far out of town. Picking up the lamp from the nearby table he went into the hall, where he met Serena carrying a ewer of steaming water and some clean cloths. “I’m just in time to light you upstairs.”

They went up in silence, leaving the lamp which always stood on the hall table burning low.

In the bedroom, Marcus removed his trousers and put on his pyjamas, while she avoided looking at him by fiddling with the bowl. He rolled up the pyjama leg and let her tend to the largest wound which was still unhealed in the centre but was getting smaller every week, with pink healthy flesh building up again where the jagged crater had been.

“It’s looking a lot better.”

Strange, how normal her voice sounded when she wasn’t facing the possibility of him asking for a husband’s rights. He watched her tend the wound, loving the feel of her gentle fingers on his skin.

“Shouldn’t I check the ones on your body as well?”

He nodded and unbuttoned his pyjama top, wincing as she pulled the sticking plaster off.

“This one got bruised during your scuffle at the cottage the other day. It still looks red and tender, must be very sore.”

“I suppose so. You get used to the pain after a while and unless something happens to remind you, well, you just get on with things.” He watched her. “You’re very good at that, deft I think the word is. Better than some of the nurses I’ve had.”

“Am I really?”

She smiled at him, a real smile this time.

“I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t mean it. Serena . . . ”

Her expression grew wary. “Yes?”

“I think we should wait longer to consummate our marriage . . . until you feel more comfortable with me. I can see that you’re still nervous.”

She gave him a long look but it revealed nothing of her feelings. “Whatever you feel best.”

He didn’t know what was best, dammit, only that he wasn’t going to force her because he wanted to make her happy in bed.

She began gathering together the things she’d used. “I’ll just take these downstairs again.”

She stopped halfway down the stairs, swallowing hard, desperately willing herself not to weep because the others were still sitting chatting in the kitchen. Marcus definitely didn’t want her, wasn’t the slightest bit interested in making her his wife, however much he dressed it up as waiting till they knew one another better! He’d probably only married her for her money and for the convenience of having a wife to run his house. Well, why else would any man want her with so many younger, prettier women around?

And she didn’t know how to tell him that she thought they should make love, that she both wanted to and was afraid to, but that she wanted to feel she was really his. She knew she grew stiff when she was afraid or upset.

Why should he want her? No other man ever had in any sense, not her real father and definitely not her pretend father.

The baize covered door into the servants’ quarters opened and she summoned up a smile, starting down the stairs again.

“I’ll hold the door open for you, love.” Pearl smiled at her.

“Thank you.”

In the kitchen Gladys was yawning but she came to take the bowl and cloths from Serena.

“I can manage it. You look tired, Gladys.”

“No, no! That’s my job. You get to bed, ma’am.”

So Serena went slowly and reluctantly back up the stairs. She stopped outside the bedroom to take a deep breath and will herself to tell him what she was thinking, then went inside.

But Marcus was asleep, one hand flung across his eyes, his chest moving up and down slowly. She tiptoed across to the bed and picked up her nightdress, not bothering to go behind the screen because he wasn’t awake to see her.

From the shadow of his arm Marcus watched as his wife took off her clothes. That at least he could allow himself. She had an attractive body, small and slender, with well-formed breasts and just a hint of a curve to her belly, as a normal woman should have. He could feel his body reacting to the sight of her and hoped she wouldn’t notice, because he was quite sure the sight of him erect would terrify her. She put on a lawn nightdress, which for some reason made her look both virginal and sensual. It was hard to keep breathing slowly and steadily, hard to pretend to be asleep because he wanted her quite desperately. It had been so long . . .

Blowing out the lamp, she sighed and got into bed, such a deep, weary sigh that he was glad he’d held back. Only when she was lying there with her back to him, did he allow himself to move, turning away from her and making a small noise as if merely stirring in his sleep.

But he couldn’t turn his back to the images of the lovely curves of her soft woman’s body, which played and re-played in his mind.

And he couldn’t turn off his need for her.

It seemed a very long time before he got to sleep.

Chapter 12

As the flames began to lick around his trouser legs, Justin rocked the chair to and fro, calling for help as loudly as he could in between coughing and choking from the hot, smoke-filled air. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. He managed to move the chair backwards away from the flames, still trying desperately to free his hands, but then the chair hit something and would go no further.

Suddenly a voice spoke beside him, “Did you mean what you said about paying anyone as set you free?”

“Of course I did.”

“How much?”

“A hundred pounds.”

“Two hundred.”

“All right, all right.” Justin’s feet felt hot, he could smell singing wool and sweat was pouring down his face.

“Get me out of here quickly then or I’ll be in no state to pay you anything.”

The ropes tying his wrists suddenly fell away and the man bent to slice through the bindings on his ankles. With a sob of relief, Justin pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his briefcase from the floor near the filing cabinet. He hesitated, then braved the flames for a few seconds more to snatch at the pile of papers on it, which were curling up and turning brown from the heat. Stuffing them down his jacket front, he prayed he’d got the one that had fallen out of the file.

The man was tugging his arm. “Come
on!”

Struggling for breath, Justin stumbled through a nightmare of flames and smoke. He’d have lost his way but for his companion and as they pushed the door into the street open, the flames behind them blazed higher with an angry roar. “Shut the door!” he rasped, his throat feeling as if it had been sandpapered.

As a bell began clanging in the distance, the man looked at him, eyes pleading. “The fire brigade mustn’t find me here.”

“Meet me at Number Ten at three o’clock this afternoon. Go in through the back yard.” Justin pointed up the street towards the headquarters of the WSPC. “I’ll have the money waiting for you there.”

“Swear it!”

“I promise! You saved my life, didn’t you? Do you really think I’m not grateful?”

“I’ll be there.” The man slipped away into the smoke-filled darkness just as the fire engine rumbled down the street and stopped outside the offices.

Justin had been one of those who’d pressed for the purchase of a Merryweather fire engine several years ago, but had never thought to need it himself. The modern motorised vehicle didn’t have to wait for horses to be harnessed and could transport five or six trained men to a fire anywhere in the town within minutes of the warning being given.

“Stand clear, sir.” Working rapidity and efficiently, the uniformed men found the nearest water main, attached a hose and began pumping water into the building.

Justin watched in shuddering relief as they extinguished the fire before it could destroy the whole place.

As the flames died down inside, they left a black, sodden, stinking mess, with windows broken, sprouting fringes of blackened glass shards, and smoke still curling up here and there. The Captain of the brigade came to stand next to Justin. “You’re lucky this place is close to a fire point.” He squinted sideways by the light of a street lamp. “Mr Redway. Do you know how the fire started, sir?”

“Yes, it was deliberately started by two men who broke into my rooms and robbed me.” He’d decided on this story because he had no way of proving it was Fleming who’d arranged it, but wanted it made obvious that someone in the town was committing crimes. “I was dazed and I think they thought I’d perish, but I got out in time.” He shook his head. “It spread so quickly. I can’t believe how quickly. I was never so glad to see anyone as you and your men, and may I congratulate you on your speedy arrival?”

“Someone saw the fire and sent to warn us. The lad who brought the message slipped away before we could take his name, though, so we don’t know who your saviour was.” He scowled at the mess. “Looks like we’ve got a firebug in town, what with Mr Fleming’s offices going up, then yours. Both were definitely deliberate.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Oh, yes. Fleming says he can’t believe it, but I know what I found and there was a smell of paraffin. You can’t hide that completely, sir. It lingers even after the fire.”

A policeman turned up just then and Justin had to go through it all over again with him, though his voice was little more than a croak now.

Then Evadne came running down the street and flung her arms around him. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re safe!”

“So am I,” he said shakily.

“There was I thinking you’d let me down for dinner when we heard the fire engine bell. A passer-by told our maid there was a house burning in Bridge Lane and I knew, somehow I just
knew,
that it was yours. Are you all right, Justin? Really, are you?”

He held on to her for a minute, because he most certainly wasn’t all right. Now that the emergency was over, reaction had set in. “I’ll t-tell you about it l-later.” He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t even get another word out properly, because it was sinking in how close he’d come to death. Flames still seemed to be burning round him, people’s voices coming and going in his ears.

Evadne took charge. “Constable, my cousin is very upset after his narrow escape so I’m taking him home with me. You can find him at my house if you need to question him further. He’ll be spending the night there.” She put her arm round Justin’s waist and they walked slowly up the lane and out from the town towards her house.

Once there, she took him into the sitting room and he collapsed into a chair, putting his head in his hands. When she closed his fingers round a glass he looked down and saw it was a brandy. He took a gulp, then another. Gradually the shuddering stopped and when he looked round, she too had a glass in her hand. Although she gave him a half-smile, she didn’t press him to talk until he was ready.

Then, in jerky sentences punctuated by shudders and silences, he fumbled for the words to tell her what had really happened.

She stared at him in horror, not speaking till he’d finished. “But you have to tell the police, Justin. You can’t let Fleming get away with this.”

“I’ve no proof. He’d charge me with slander. But I will have a word with Marley. He knows what’s really going on, though he’s as helpless as me to stop the man without proof.”

“You will be careful from now on, won’t you?”

He nodded.

“Surely you’re not going to pay this man who untied you? He should be locked up, not rewarded.”

“He didn’t want to harm me, I heard him say so, and he came back and saved my life. I find I value that rather highly.”

“Well, have it your own way. You usually do. But you’re staying here tonight, where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks.” He definitely didn’t want to be on his own tonight—or any other night until Fleming was dealt with.

Surely there must be some way to stop the man?

* * * *

Ernest heard the fire engine’s bell clanging away as the ancient apparatus made its way to Bridge Lane. He looked at the clock and smiled as he ate the last piece of beef sandwich with great relish. Redway should be nicely toasted by now and serve him right for poking his nose where it shouldn’t go. He hoped the man had died in agony. He looked down at his empty plate and rang for it to be cleared away.

Ruby worked in silence as usual, which he much preferred.

He watched her go out then settled down with the newspaper. The folder with all the papers in it was now in his home safe which was in the wall behind a singularly ugly portrait of his late wife’s mother. He scowled as he thought about Grace. He supposed he’d better find himself another wife and try once again for a son, though he’d make sure he selected someone young and healthy, best of all a widow with a child to raise who had already proved she was fertile and would be grateful to find another protector. He’d have a look round. There were plenty of young widows, thanks to the war.

Pity Frank had been killed. Ernest didn’t really want to marry again. Women were such a nuisance and if he found one from a good family, she’d be expensive too, and he was just a trifle short of money at present. Though that was going to be remedied.

He stood up and began to pace to and fro, wondering exactly how to deal with Serena. Married or not, she definitely wasn’t going to keep that damned annuity when he needed the money so much more. He’d have to stop gambling with Hammerton, though. The fellow was so lucky you had to wonder if he cheated.