A Summer of Secrets

by Lorna Peel

  “Is he the manager?”

  “Er, no, that was Lord Heaton.”

  The woman’s eyes bulged. “No? Are you Lady Heaton?”

  She flushed. “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, you’re still a lucky girl.”

  Oh, I know. And about time, too.

  That evening, she was curled up in the armchair with her phone and pressed ‘send’ on a text message to Michelle: Re. Heaton – mission accomplished :) when she saw Thomas cross the yard towards her. She went downstairs to let him in.

  “Sorry.” He kissed her lips. “Dinner took ages, then I spoke to Lady Heaton.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I’d be lying if I said that she wasn’t a little surprised.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Yes,” he replied, climbing the stairs after her. “I think she was beginning to worry that I was going to remain celibate for the rest of my life.”

  “And you’re not?” she enquired as he put his arms around her.

  He laughed. “No.” She felt his hands slide down her back and onto her bottom and he pulled her body against his. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. “Fancy coming back to my place? We’ll set the camcorder again then have a drink.”

  They made their way across the stable yard, into the house via the side door, and up the stairs to the drawing room.

  “If only the doors could be locked, but they don’t lock, and, if they did it would completely give the game away. Come to my living room.”

  He brought her to a room two doors down from the library. She stared. It was about as different from the drawing room and library as it was possible to be. Two black leather sofas stood at right angles to each other on the varnished floorboards. The only floor covering was a black rug on which stood a wooden coffee table. A laden bookcase stood along one wall, a drinks cabinet along another, and a widescreen television and DVD player stood against a third.

  “I don’t use this room as much as I should, considering the effort I put into it,” he told her. “The library is so dark, I usually end up going in there for a nap. I do like ‘old’ but there are times that I just crave ‘modern’.” He gave her a little smile. “You hate it?”

  “No,” she cried. “No. It’s the last thing I expected, but no, it’s lovely.”

  “Lady Heaton hates it. Never comes in here.”

  “What’s her living room like?”

  “Sitting room,” he corrected with a grin. “Flowers, frills, clutter everywhere. Claustrophobic. Whisky?”

  “Yes, please. Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What?” He looked anxiously at her from the drinks cabinet.

  “It’s Lady Heaton. I don’t really know how to explain, it’s just that I’ve seen her behaving very strangely.”

  “What do you mean, strangely?”

  She sighed. “The first day I was here, I’d just gone through the tour and I was sitting on the stairs. It was just before you came down and asked if I wanted to see the etchings of the abbey. Lady Heaton opened the door of the drawing room. She looked around but didn’t see me. She walked out of the drawing room. I’m almost positive that she had something in her hand. Then there was the time I was showing one of the portraits to a visitor and she opened one of the drawing room doors and stuck her head out and looked around. She saw me and the visitor and withdrew and banged the door closed. She was expecting no-one to be there.”

  “You think she’s a thief?”

  She flushed. “At first I thought it was some kind of test of my honesty but now I don’t know. Maybe I’ve got an overly suspicious mind. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to keep it from you anymore.”

  He nodded and she saw that she had really shocked him.

  “Well, I’m going to need some proof.” He passed her a glass.

  “I’ve also seen her in the bank in town lodging an awful lot of money.”

  “How much is an awful lot?”

  She shrugged and sat down on the sofa. “An envelope full of twenty-pound notes, it looked like. I’ve also seen her getting onto the Leeds bus with a large box. That mightn’t be anything, though, because I didn’t know that Stephanie lived in Leeds then.”

  He nodded and sat on the other sofa. “We still need proof. I can’t go accusing her.”

  “I know. I hope it’s nothing. When did you have the room done?”

  “I started six years ago on here and my bedroom. My grandmother had used this room as a sitting room. Father had furnished it exactly the way she wanted it, and it was appalling. Even Lady Heaton didn’t want the furniture when Grandmother died, so it stayed here and I began using the room as my sitting room until I just couldn’t stand it anymore and Des and I took it all outside and burned it. Gradually, I furnished the room, whenever I could afford it. I eventually finished it last year, when I went completely mad and bought the widescreen television to replace Grandmother’s black and white portable.”

  “When did your grandmother die?” she asked.

  “When I was seventeen. She was eighty-seven. My grandfather died when I was eight. He was eighty. I’d love to have known him better. Spoiled Stephanie and me rotten. He fought in World War One. Ran away and lied about his age. His uniform is in the attic somewhere.”

  “You never did show me the attic.” She smiled.

  “Tomorrow, I promise. I take after him, my grandfather, so if visitors do expect me to dress up, I suppose you could dress me in his uniform? While I lace you into that exquisite corset.”

  “I think you liked that corset.”

  He laughed. “I did, but I much prefer what’s inside it. Those beautiful curves I was exploring in the dark, which I’d very much like to explore again, and see what I’m doing this time.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “Good.” He put his glass down. “Come with me.”

  He led her up the main staircase and along a corridor into the east wing, a part of the house she had never ventured into even when ‘lost’.

  “Here we are.” He opened the door and switched the light on.

  Again she stared. It was a huge room, dominated by a vast king size sleigh bed. Although the furniture was modern, it did not jar. “Is the bed big enough for you?” she teased.

  He smiled. “I’m six foot two, I need a big bed. Now, where were we?”

  “I think you want to make up for lost time.”

  “I’ll be completely honest with you, I hadn’t thought about sex in a long time until I met you. I know men are supposed to have sex on the brain but I’ve either been too busy or too tired, usually both. I’m sorry, we don’t have to.”

  She quickly covered his mouth with her fingers. “I want to.”

  He smiled, picked her up, and carried across the room to the bed.

  Although he claimed to be very unfit, his body did not show any evidence of this as he quickly undid his shirt buttons while she sat on the bed undoing her blouse with full view of his broad shoulders, strong arms and flat stomach.

  “Can I?” he whispered and knelt down. He undid the rest of the buttons and eased the blouse off her shoulders. Again, he fumbled a little with her bra but gasped when he removed it and saw her breasts. “You are beautiful,” he said again. “A real woman.”

  “A real woman?” she echoed.

  He grimaced. “Please don’t take that the wrong way…what I am trying to say is that you are feminine, curvy, and beautiful, not stick-thin and gaunt. Renaissance artists knew that curves and softness, not boyish angles and hardness, are the characteristics that people naturally associate with the feminine ideal.”

  “So I was born five hundred years too late?”

  He smiled. “I don’t think so. Titian, for example, putting the symbolism aside, created his works of art as consummate expressions of womanly beauty. I just wish that I could paint you.”

  “Not just now, I hope?”

  He shook his head. “I’d never be able to do you justic
e.”

  They lay down together and he moved down her body to kiss and caress her breasts then he moved his hands steadily down her body. He eased her legs apart to stroke her and she arched her back in response to the deep pleasure it gave. She reached out for him and found him hard. Running her fingers along his length, she smoothed her thumb over the tip and he exhaled a long groan.

  “Like that?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “But I want to be inside you and I need a condom.” He rolled over and got off the bed. She watched as he walked around the bed with no evidence of self-consciousness at all, his huge erection bobbing up and down. He pulled open the drawer of a bedside cabinet and extracted a condom. He closed the drawer and ripped open the packaging. He rolled the condom on then turned to face her.

  When he climbed onto the bed and over her, she couldn’t help but wonder whether he would be gentle or rough through inexperience. Her curiosity was quickly replaced with a feeling of warmth and security as he pushed into her slowly but firmly. She relaxed and opened her legs wider, inviting him in deeper. He pushed in further, she savoured every extra inch, and they both groaned. He pulled out and pushed in again, only this time faster and deeper, pushing his whole length into her. The waves of pleasure began to build again as he thrust into her, his hips finding a rhythm. Her moans became louder and louder as she contracted around him as she came and felt him tighten and shudder as he climaxed.

  They lay panting in each other’s arms. Sophia was shocked at the intensity of her responses and she felt herself blush.

  He opened his eyes and kissed her lips. “Don’t worry, no-one can hear us. The walls are four feet thick, remember?”

  “That’s a relief.”

  She wanted to have woken first so she could look at him while asleep but he was already awake and looking at her. He ran a hand across her stomach, up to her breasts, and cupped one.

  “Down boy.” She smiled. “What’s the time?”

  He rolled over and back. “Half past eight.” He sighed. “I should get up but I don’t want to.”

  “Then don’t, you deserve a lie in.”

  He gave her a grin. “I won’t, then.”

  “When did you last have a lie in?” she asked curiously.

  “I can’t remember exactly, but I think John Major was still Prime Minister.”

  Michelle rang her later that morning. “Hi, Sophia, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Well, more than fine, actually. Especially now.”

  “Now?” Michelle prompted.

  “Thomas and I are an item at long last.”

  “Really?” Michelle exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “Didn’t you get my text message?”

  “My phone didn’t survive a hot wash and spin cycle yesterday. I’m getting a new one tomorrow. So what happened? Tell all.”

  “Oh, you know…but we’re on first name terms now.”

  “And the rest, I hope?”

  She laughed. “Oh, yes. I need to go shopping later this evening, I’ll call in on the way home.”

  “I’ll have the kettle on. See you, then.”

  “The attic awaits.” Thomas stood at the door of the kitchen as Sophia finished a well-earned cup of coffee following a tour. “What is it?” he added when she didn’t reply.

  “One woman tried to pinch the new photograph of you in the drawing room. I saw her trying, and failing, to zip up her anorak. Would you object to roping most of the room off?”

  “I hoped that we wouldn’t have to but, no.”

  She followed him into the drawing room. “If we move this table in a little bit, we can run a rope, along here, so groups can still come in that door and out the other and still be able to see the whole room.”

  “What’s this?” Lady Heaton came in after them.

  “A lady tried to steal a photograph of me,” Thomas told her.

  “And a few others kept picking things up,” Sophia added. “I had to ask one woman to put things down three times.”

  Lady Heaton nodded. “Some visitors can be persistent. Well, I have no objection to roping most of the room off. If visitors want a souvenir, they can buy one from me in the shop.”

  Sophia smiled.

  “All right then, ropes in this room.” Thomas nodded.

  “What if it’s my fault?” she said, as they climbed the stairs to the attic. “When I have a large group it’s hard to keep an eye on all of them.”

  “We’ll see if the ropes make a difference. Here we are.”

  He opened a door and switched on a light which flickered on. The roof space was enormous but full of clutter. The Antiques Roadshow would be able to spend an entire series up there.

  “What’s in all the chests?” she asked.

  “Clothes, papers, letters, toys, you name it. Come, and I’ll show you the suit of armour.” The armour was already dressed on a mannequin. “Apparently, my great-grandfather stood it in the hall and used it as a hat and umbrella stand until my grandfather banished it to the attic.”

  “It’s a shame to have it hidden away up here. It should be on display. Was it Sir William Heaton’s?”

  “I really don’t know. It’s just always been here. I won’t fit into it, will I?”

  “No, definitely not. Where’s your grandfather’s uniform?”

  “Over here, I think.” He went to a chest and opened it. “Yes, it’s here.” He lifted out the cap and jacket. “Still in very good condition.”

  “Are there any other old clothes?”

  “Yes, loads. Come and see the corsets.” He opened another chest and lifted one out. “This belonged to Great-Great-Grandmother Catherine. It really must have been agony.”

  “Yes,” she replied simply, letting her hands drop to her sides.

  “What is it?” he asked, putting the corset back.

  “I don’t know where to start. All of this should be on display.”

  “I know but I don’t want to turn the house completely into a museum. It’s not damp up here so nothing is going to disintegrate. We’ll display the suit of armour and see how it goes, yes?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “All we ever had in our attic at home were old suitcases, bits of carpet, and boxes of my old Enid Blyton books.”

  “Famous Five or Secret Seven?”

  “Both. I think I had every book she ever wrote.”

  She drove back to the abbey from Michelle’s, having left as quickly as she dared to – not particularly wanting to go into detail about sex with Thomas – and found the brochures being delivered. Four large cardboard boxes stood outside Thomas’ office and Thomas himself was signing for them.

  “At last.” She followed him as he carried one of the boxes into the office. “I was beginning to think they had forgotten about us.”

  “There was some problem at the printers but at least the brochures are here now.” He set the box on his desk, reached for a pair of scissors, and sliced the box open. He lifted a brochure out and cringed at his picture on the cover. “Urgh. We’d better get these over to the shop. I hardly ever go in there so at least I won’t see them.”

  “I’ll take a box.”

  “All right.” He kissed her lips. “See you later.”

  She went out, picked up a box and saw that Des had seen the kiss. She flushed as he fell in step with her as she crossed the stable yard.

  “Want me to take that box?” he offered.

  “No, it’s okay, thanks.”

  “So, er, how long have you and his Lordship…?”

  “Not long.”

  “Well, I’m glad to see that he’s got taste and picked a local girl.”

  She gave him a relieved smile. “And me a local boy?”

  He laughed. “Well, nearly five hundred years does make him local, I suppose.” He gave her a wink and headed in the direction of the kitchen and she continued on to the shop.

  “Oh, good grief, they’ve put Thomas on the cover.” Stephanie groaned as she lifted a brochure from the box.r />
  “He looks very well,” Lady Heaton murmured. “As does the house. I think I’ll keep one of these for myself. Has he seen it, Sophia?”

  “Yes, he’s going through it now.”

  Lady Heaton took a brochure and went out as Sophia offered Stephanie another.

  “Want one to keep?”

  “What, with Thomas as cover boy?” She laughed. “Oh, go on, then. You’d better give me one for Des and Helen, too. Hopefully, there’ll be enough left for the visitors.”

  Stephanie followed Lady Heaton out of the shop and Sophia began to place some brochures beside the leaflet rack.

  “Sophia?”

  She jumped and turned to look at Lady Heaton. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come back in.”

  “Thomas has told me about you and him.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I hope you care for him as much as he cares for you. Please don’t hurt him.”

  “I love him if that’s what you mean?” she said, a little harsher than she had intended. “I’ve never gone lightly into any relationship.”

  “Have you had many?”

  “No. My previous relationship lasted six years. Do you not approve of me, Lady Heaton?” she asked bluntly.

  “Good heavens, yes.” Lady Heaton laughed. “I’m just being rather overprotective, that’s all.” She lowered her voice. “I may not have given birth to him but he is still my son. Even if he won’t admit that anymore.” She smiled sadly. “Has your father met Thomas?”

  “Not recently, no. I’m going to see him in the morning to tell him.”

  On being told, her father remained silent for what seemed like an age. “So how long has it been going on for?” he asked finally.

  “Almost a week.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he would say that, I suppose.” Her father shrugged.

  “Dad, he’s not the sort of man who’ll say that to—”

  “Get you to sleep with him…?” Mr Nelson suggested.

  “No,” she replied quietly.

  “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Dad, we can’t help who we fall in love with.”

  “I want to meet him properly,” her father said firmly.