The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (15 page)

There was a tap at the door. Rebecca did not answer. If it was Sarah – and who else would it be? – she did not want to see her. But the door opened anyway, and Spencer stepped inside.

‘Forgive me, Miss Winton, for intruding. I came to see if there was anything I could fetch for you. A drink, perhaps? Something to eat? Or should I send for Tilly? You have had quite a shock.’ His voice was sympathetic, but Rebecca thought she could already detect a change in his demeanour. He was already treating her as the second-rate female in the house. It was only a subtle change but it was there. His daughter was now the mistress, which made him, in a sense, now the master.

‘Send Sarah to me,’ she said. ‘There are things we must discuss.’

‘I will see if she is available.’ Spencer bowed his head slightly, less than he used to, and left the room.

Sarah arrived a few minutes later. ‘I have been thinking,’ she said, as she walked in. ‘I would like this room. It is bigger than mine, and as the mistress of the house I think I should have the superior bedroom. We shall swap. Or you could take one of the rooms on the second floor. Yes, the second floor would suit you very well. Also, Tilly will from now on be
my
lady’s maid. You will have to manage without, as I always did.’

Rebecca could not believe her ears. She was to be thrown out of her bedroom, be allocated a room on the servants’ floor, and lose Tilly who’d been her maid for five years? ‘Sarah, the will is morally wrong. I shall contest it. Papa would never have meant for this to happen. You must see that. Obviously he wanted to ensure we were both well provided for, so I think we should act on the intention rather than the letter of his will. We should share the estate and live here as equals. We can manage it between us. If he had amended the will after Charles and I split up, I am sure that is what he would have done.’

Sarah smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes. ‘I have spoken to Mr Neville. The will is legally binding. We cannot guess what may have been in Papa’s mind. We can only go by what was written in the will. The estate, dear sister, is mine. I have said I shall not throw you out. But if you continue to protest about our changed circumstances then I may feel I have no option. So I would suggest you keep quiet and put up with your new, reduced status.’ She walked around the room fingering the furniture, the curtains, the upholstery. ‘This is a lovely room. I shall enjoy living in it.’ She turned suddenly to Rebecca. ‘It is, after all,
your
turn
to be the poor relation. I have suffered thus for so many years. Only Papa treated me as equal. Your mother could barely stand the sight of me and you, despite our childhood friendship, have always made sure to treat me as inferior. Now, dear
sister
, it is your turn to be looked down upon.’

‘I never treated you as inferior!’ Rebecca gasped. ‘You were my friend. I loved you as much as I would have loved a sister.’

‘I
am
your sister. Papa adopted me, remember? And if you would just think back a little, you will remember how you always insisted I was but the daughter of your housekeeper. You never let me forget that. Well. I will send your maid to you to begin removing your clothes and personal belongings from this room. Spencer has already gathered the servants together to tell them the contents of Papa’s will so they will do as I say.’ Sarah did not wait for an answer but spun on her heel and left the room, leaving the door wide open.

Rebecca slammed the door closed behind her. How could Sarah do this to her? How could Papa have done this? It wasn’t fair. Even if she had married Charles, she should still have inherited Red Hill Hall. She was a Winton, and it had belonged to the Winton family for many generations. It was hers by right. Sarah’s parents, Spencer and Mrs Cooper, were nobodies – just servants. Papa had provided for Sarah and treated her as if she was his own daughter, it was true, but only because he felt indebted to Spencer for saving his life at Waterloo. Why had he then left so much to her, and nothing to his own daughter? She shook her head. It was incomprehensible.

Chapter 13

July 2015

The morning after the wedding, Gemma woke up in her hotel room with a hangover. She eyed the empty bottle of wine on the dressing table and remembered with a jolt – Nat snogging Ben. She’d purchased the bottle and brought it up to her room to drink herself into oblivion. Groaning, she rolled out of bed and into the shower. Thankfully there were tea-making facilities in her room, and after her shower and a couple of cups of tea she began to feel more human.

She decided to skip breakfast. What if Ben or Nat were there? Her mind went into overdrive. What if they were there
together
? What if they’d spent the night together? How could they? Ben had only dumped her a couple of weeks ago. Surely it was too soon for him to start seeing someone else. And why pick Nat of all people? Nat, her best mate? Gemma wasn’t sure what hurt more – the idea of Ben with Nat, or Nat with Ben. It felt like a betrayal by both of them, and she couldn’t decide which was worse. Even if they were attracted to each other, perhaps had always felt an attraction, surely because they both still cared about her, Gemma, they’d have resisted each other? For a while, at least, and definitely while at an event when they knew she could have walked in at any time. It hurt so much; it felt like a heavy ball of cold iron in her gut. Right now she felt as though she never wanted to see either of them again.

She threw her belongings into her overnight bag, picked up her car keys and phone, and went down the stairs to the entrance hall. There were several guests from the wedding milling about, but no one she knew well. Thank goodness. She just wanted to get home without having to talk to anyone.

But when she reached her car, she found Nat leaning against it.

‘Hi, Gem! You wouldn’t mind giving me a lift home, would you? I’d meant to call a taxi but I’ve no cash left. Fab wedding, wasn’t it?’ Nat’s eyes were bright, with a smudge of yesterday’s make-up underneath. She wore jeans and had her peacock feather dress draped over one arm. She looked in better shape than Gemma was, this morning.

‘Nat, hi. Yes, I suppose I could give you a lift.’ She unlocked the car, threw her bag on the back seat and climbed in. The cheek of the woman. How could she turn up, cool as a cucumber, and ask for a lift home after what she’d done? And why had Gemma agreed? She’d have to say something. Otherwise the Ben-and-Nat kiss would be sitting like an elephant in the car between them all the way home.

‘Cheers!’ Nat got in the passenger side and fastened her seat belt. ‘So, where’d you get to last night? I didn’t see you at all after the meal. Was hoping to get pissed and have a bit of fun on the dance floor with you. Some of Jake’s mates were hot – we might have pulled!’

That did it. Gemma turned angrily towards Nat. ‘For fuck’s sake, Nat. It looked to me like you did pull. Last time I saw you, you had your tongue down Ben’s throat.’

‘Ah. You saw that, did you? Gem, it wasn’t what it looked like. Yes, we did kiss, but just the once. He came on strong to me. He’d had a lot to drink, I guess. Listen, Gem, it wasn’t me. I pushed him away, as soon as I could, and told him, no, it wasn’t fair on you.’ Nat held Gemma’s gaze as she said this, and put her hand on her arm. ‘Gem, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to you, would I? I mean, you’ve broken up, so really he’s fair game, but it’s too soon. And anyway, I wouldn’t, because of you. You mean more to me. Honestly, as far as I’m concerned he’s off limits. For a long time yet.’

Gemma considered this. Ben reaching for Nat in a drunken moment, perhaps not realising what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. She tried to remember who had instigated the kiss, but after the wine she’d drunk and from where she’d stood across the room she couldn’t be sure what she’d seen. Nat had declared that she considered Ben off limits, at least for the moment. Did that mean after a suitable time had passed she would consider an affair with him? Gemma wasn’t sure how she would feel about this. But for now, if Nat was to be believed, there was nothing going on. She realised she had a choice. She’d lost Ben, but she didn’t have to lose Nat as well.

‘OK,’ she said, at last, with a sigh. ‘I believe you. You’re right – he’s not mine any more so I shouldn’t care, but I guess I’ve been secretly hoping he might come to his senses and come back to me. If he was coming on to you, that means he’s not likely to.’ To her shame she felt tears welling up. ‘God, Nat, I miss him so much. It’s unbearable.’

‘Aw, Gem, come here, my lovely.’ Nat reached across to her and enfolded her in a huge girlie hug, while Gemma gave in and cried huge, shuddering sobs on her friend’s shoulder.

It was a week or so after the wedding when Gemma’s credit card statement arrived. She knew it would be a hefty one as she’d paid for her wedding outfit and the wedding present by credit card, but nothing had prepared her for the four-figure sum at the bottom of the statement. The post had arrived early, before she went to work, and she’d torn open the statement envelope over breakfast.

‘What the hell? How can it be that much?’ she exclaimed. There must be a mistake. She scanned through the list of charges. There were two or three large ones she didn’t recognise. What were they? She’d need to go through the wodge of credit card receipts she’d tucked into a pocket of her handbag. But surely she would have remembered transactions of that size. It wasn’t as if she earned so much that she didn’t worry about three-figure purchases. Looking at her watch she realised she needed to get going to work. Perhaps over her lunch hour she could check through her statement, and phone the card issuer. It certainly didn’t look right. There must be some mistake.

It was a long morning at work. The credit card bill kept playing on her mind. What had she been buying? Between cataloguing a box of Victorian children’s toys and some eighteenth-century china plates she tried to remember when she had used her credit card in the last couple of months. OK, so she’d been depressed after Ben dumped her but she hadn’t drowned her sorrows in a shopping spree – that wasn’t her style. She’d bought herself a few treats but surely they wouldn’t have added up to so much?

She decided to have lunch at the museum café, and ordered a slice of quiche and a side salad. As a museum employee she was entitled to a discount in the café. She sat at a small round table in the corner and laid out the credit card statement and her pile of receipts on the seat beside her. She spent her lunch hour alternating between a mouthful of food and ticking off a receipt on the statement. By the time the quiche was finished she had gone through all receipts and there were still three items unchecked on the statement. They added up to over £650.

‘What the heck are these?’ she muttered.

‘Is something wrong, Gemma? Only your lunch hour’s up and I wanted to take my break now.’ She hadn’t noticed Roger approaching. She looked at her watch and realised she’d already gone five minutes over.

‘Oh God, sorry. I was a bit distracted there. I’ll get straight back to work. Want me to cover the front desk over your break?’

‘Yes please. We’re short today as Christine is off sick. I’ll only take thirty minutes. I know you’ll want to get back to your cataloguing. What have you found today – anything interesting?’

‘Lead soldiers and a sad-looking wooden dolly. And a huge credit card bill. I’ll have to ask you for a raise, Roger.’ Gemma tried to laugh but it sounded hollow even to herself.

‘What? Is that what you’ve been poring over?’

‘Yes. There are a few things here I don’t remember and can’t find the receipts for. I know I’ve been distracted lately but didn’t think I was that bad.’

‘May I see?’

She handed the statement over to him. It was an uncomfortable feeling allowing her boss to see how much money she was spending. Roger frowned and pointed at the un-ticked items. ‘These are the ones you don’t have receipts for?’

‘Yes.’

‘They’re for large amounts. Two look like internet shopping. Have you checked for email receipts?’

‘I never use my credit card to shop online,’ Gemma said. She was beginning to feel scared.

‘Hmm. I wonder if you’ve been the victim of credit card fraud. I think I would get this card stopped as soon as possible,’ Roger said. ‘Ring them up now. They’ll put a block on the card and there’ll be no more spending on it.’

‘Credit card fraud?’

‘Yes, somehow someone has got hold of your card details. Identity theft.’

‘Shit. How, though?’

‘No idea. Maybe you shopped online on an insecure site, or put credit card details on an insecure email.’

Gemma shook her head. ‘As I said, I don’t use the card to shop online and I’d never put the details on an email.’

‘The third un-ticked transaction is from somewhere called LBF Bridhampton. Sounds like a local place. Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell with me, I’m afraid.’ Roger scratched his chin.

‘
La Belle Femme
?’ Gemma said suddenly.

‘Where’s that?’

‘A dress shop, just off the top end of the High Street.’

‘Ah, could be. Are you sure you haven’t bought something there?’

‘God, no. Have you seen their prices? And their stuff is not really my style.’ Even as she said it she remembered browsing in that shop with Nat, who’d tried on several items, including the peacock dress she’d worn at the wedding. The one Nat had said she’d bought in the sale, heavily discounted. But what if… No. Nat wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t steal Gemma’s credit card details, would she? Surely not?

‘What, Gemma? Have you thought of something?’ Roger looked concerned. ‘I really think you should call the card company now and get a block put on that card. Go to the back office and call them. I can wait a while longer for my lunch.’

‘Yes, I think I had better.’ Gemma got up and went to the back room. It only took a quick phone call to the number printed on the back of the card, to put a block on it. The card company took the details of the disputed transactions and assured Gemma she would not be liable unless their investigations proved that she had authorised them.

‘All sorted?’ said Roger as she came back out to cover the front desk and gift shop.