‘You - you—’ He had advanced on Sarah slowly, his eyes almost popping out of his head with the rage he was trying to contain and his sallow face tinged with purple. ‘You -’ He had seemed incapable of uttering anything different through his clenched teeth, spittle having gathered either side of his mouth in white blobs, and he went on repeating the word until he was standing in front of her, when he said, ‘So you managed it, did you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Sir Geoffrey.’ Sarah’s heart was thudding so hard it was in danger of leaping out of her chest.
‘Don’t give me that.’ He glared at her, rubbing his lips with the back of his hand before saying again, ‘Don’t give me that. I knew what you were up to from the first minute I laid eyes on you.’
‘If you are suggesting that Sarah had anything to do with your mother changing her will, then you are quite wrong, Geoffrey.’ Lady Margaret spoke for the first time, her face red with embarrassment at the unpleasant scene her husband was making and her voice still dazed from the wonder of her good fortune. ‘You know exactly what led her to act in such a manner.’
‘I know who did.’ He was grinding the words out, beside himself with fury, and one of the grooms, a big muscular fellow with a huge barrel chest and arms like a wrestler, moved closer to Sarah’s side, obviously fearing Sir Geoffrey meant her physical harm. ‘Oh yes, I know who did. You think you’ve been very clever, don’t you, my girl?’
Sarah’s face was white but her voice didn’t quiver as she said, ‘My conscience is clear, Sir Geoffrey. Can you say the same?’
She heard the intake of breath from the Fenwick staff, and Lady Havistock’s exclamation of, ‘Well, really!’, but the man himself continued to stare at her, his teeth gnashing together and his eyes unblinking, and then he said, his voice low but deadly, ‘This isn’t the end of it, you know that, don’t you?’
The solicitor had coughed at this point, before saying, ‘Sir Geoffrey, please, please, compose yourself. You are at liberty to contest Lady Harris’s will, if you should feel so inclined.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bryant.’ The sarcasm was vicious, but again he didn’t take his eyes off Sarah’s face, even when Lady Margaret at the side of them said, ‘Please, Geoffrey, come and sit down, and let’s discuss this rationally.’
‘No, this is not the end of it, my girl, not by a long chalk.’ It was as though there was no one else in the room, and she could feel the dark force of his enmity even though his voice had become very quiet as he continued, ‘There are ways and means. Oh yes, there are ways and means. All good things come to those that wait.’
He hadn’t been talking of his intention to contest the will through the courts. Sarah forced her mind back from the harrowing threat she had sensed in Sir Geoffrey’s voice that day two weeks ago, looking quickly at Maggie who had just said, ‘It looks like you’re set up for life, lass. Any ideas what you’ll do with the money?’
‘A few, but mainly I’ll just carry on as normal for the time being until the dust settles.’
‘With twenty thousand sittin’ beggin’?’
‘I haven’t got it yet.’
‘As good as, hinny, as good as.’
When Sarah merely smiled, but made no reply beyond saying, as she rose, ‘I’ll make some fresh tea,’ Maggie’s eyes narrowed at Florrie, and the two exchanged a long look before Maggie said to Sarah’s back as she stood at the stove, ‘What did the doctor think to your windfall then? You’ve told him, I’ll be bound?’
‘Yes, I’ve told him.’
‘An’ what did he say?’
‘He . . . he was surprised.’
‘Aye, well it wouldn’t take the Brain of Britain to work that one out, lass.’
‘And pleased. He was pleased, of course.’
Had Rodney been pleased? Sarah asked herself for the umpteenth time since she had dropped her little bombshell during his first visit after the funeral. He had been effusive, after the first blank moment of surprise, but she hadn’t felt he was really pleased, not if she was truthful, at least not wholeheartedly . . . There had been something tempering his gladness for her, and she didn’t understand what. He had been enthusiastic about what the money could do for her, joking that they soon wouldn’t see her for dust, but he had left overly quickly and had seemed preoccupied on his one other visit since then. No, overall she wouldn’t say he was really pleased.
‘Well, there’s never a dull moment, lass, I’ll say that. An’ you say the doctor’ll be callin’ in sometime, eh? Calls fairly regular, does he?’
Sarah now turned from the stove, slanting her gaze at the old woman whom she loved dearly, but who had the disturbing ability to read her mind at times, and her face was expressionless when she said, ‘Now and again, but he wants to see you two, so no doubt he’ll pop in tonight once his surgery is finished. His brother is staying with him at the moment. He’s just sold his house but his flat isn’t quite ready yet, it’s being decorated, so Rodney is putting him up for a while.’
‘Aye, well blood’s thicker than water, lass.’
‘So they say, Maggie.’ So they say.
When Rodney did call later that evening Maggie and Florrie were already comfortably established in the room at the far end of the hall, almost opposite the kitchen. It was a large room, which easily accommodated the two single beds, thick oak wardrobe and small dressing table which had been moved in there, along with two comfortable easy chairs and an occasional table which stood in front of the electric f ire.
Maggie was sitting in one of the chairs, her leg resting on a small upholstered stool Sarah had borrowed from the drawing room, when Rodney popped his head round the door, and immediately she saw him her lined old face creased in a wide smile. ‘Eeh, lad, you’re a sight for sore eyes.’
‘That’s nice to hear, Maggie.’ He came fully into the room, with Sarah just behind him, as he added, ‘This looks very comfortable. They’ve done you proud, haven’t they?’
‘Aye, don’t I know it. Me brain thinks me body’s died an’ landed in heaven.’ And then, as Rodney glanced round, ‘Florrie’s gabbin’ with Hilda in the kitchen, she’s bin in there half the evenin’.’ She wished that slight reserve that still existed between Florrie and the lad could be done away with, but then, folk were as God made them.
Rodney nodded but made no comment, and when Sarah said, ‘Sit down a minute, won’t you?’ he half turned to include her in the shake of his head as he said, ‘Thanks all the same but I haven’t got time to stop tonight, this is just a fleeting visit to say hallo to this one here.’ And then, turning fully to Maggie again, ‘Sarah’s told you her good news? We have a woman of substance among us.’
‘Aye.’
Rodney was smiling, and Maggie smiled back, but her mind was on a different plane altogether. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like her lass coming into money, she could read it in his eyes. Now why was that then? She wouldn’t put him down as a mean-minded man, just the opposite in fact, but her gut instinct was never wrong and it was telling her the doctor was miffed. More than miffed.
‘I’ve told her she needs to invest.’
‘Invest?’
‘Yes, in property - bonds - something which is a surefire bet.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Maggie was out of her depth now, and she hesitated a moment before saying, ‘It’s a lot of money, lad.’
‘Invested wisely it could double in ten years, less even, and Sarah could still have enough to do exactly what she likes.’
‘I’m not interested in doubling it.’
Sarah’s voice was low, and Maggie’s eyes were keen as they rested on her face before returning to the man standing just in front of her. There was more here than met the eye. She’d caught the brief hesitation in Rodney’s voice, and it spoke volumes to the old woman. The lad wasn’t happy, that was for sure, and she’d bet her life her lass weren’t none too bright either, in spite of all that money coming her way. And why did a man like the doctor, a busy man, and good-looking too,
why did he keep bothering to come round all the time? Her heart began to thump a bit. Perhaps she’d got it wrong before, she thought slowly. Maybe his feelings for her lass weren’t so far removed from Sarah’s for him after all?
Maggie nodded now at Sarah as she said, ‘Aye, well, it’s no bad thing to think on for a bit, lass. You can always make up your mind gradual like. You could put a bit away, travel maybe, meet new folks an’ enjoy yourself a while, eh?’
Maggie’s voice was casual but her eyes were hard on Rodney, and what she read in his face caused her to give a mental nod to the voice in her head which said, Aye, he liked her all right, the daft blighter, so why was he messin’ about? If he didn’t open his mouth it was for sure her lass wouldn’t. There was plenty who’d be forward enough mind, oh aye, the war had changed a lot of things, and not all of them for the better, but she knew her lass. It couldn’t be the money that was holding him back, he’d got more than enough of his own, besides which they’d only known about Sarah’s windfall in the last couple of weeks, so what was it? Had Sarah given him the wrong impression, acted as if she weren’t interested? He wasn’t the type to force himself on a lass, a gentleman through and through, he was, but her lass was beautiful and bright, and wealthy now in her own right. She couldn’t remain single for long . . .
Rodney was thinking just the same thing as he continued the conversation with Maggie for a few minutes more. He had thought of nothing else since Sarah had told him about her inheritance. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Her name was a constant refrain in his mind whatever he was doing and whoever he was with. He had thought he’d got time on his side, time to woo her and persuade her to see him as something more than a friend, but fate had had other ideas. Not that he begrudged her the money, not a penny of it. If anyone deserved life to smile on them it was Sarah. But it had the potential to move her out of his orbit before he could reach her. Time. Suddenly it had turned from friend to enemy, and overnight it seemed. He felt hot panic grip his bowels, and then he realized Maggie had been speaking and he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. ‘I’m sorry, Maggie?’
‘I said, little Lucy-Ann is the image of her mam.’
‘Yes. Yes, she is.’
‘An’ it’ll do the lass good to take care of her own bairn. Therapy like.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
‘At least Willie come through with somethin’ for her.’ Rodney raised his eyebrows at this, his expression indicating surprise at Maggie’s choice of words, and she stared back at him for a long moment before saying, ‘Every lass ought to get married an’ have her own family, lad. There’s somethin’ in most women that can only be satisfied when they hold their first bairn in their arms, especially ones who’ve had the sort of beginnin’ Rebecca has.’
What was she really saying? Rodney found himself holding Maggie’s straight gaze as his mind sought for something to say, and failed. He’d got the impression that suddenly they weren’t talking about Rebecca any more, and as he heard Sarah shift uneasily behind him, he felt she had sensed the same thing.
Was Maggie warning him off? he asked himself grimly. She was quite capable of it, that was for sure. Or did she suspect his feelings for Sarah went deeper than friendship, but was testing the water to be sure? Could it even be that she was giving him tacit encouragement? How the hell was he to know? But one thing was for sure, this latest business with the inheritance had taken the softly-softly approach from him, and he was damned if he was going to stand by and see Sarah move on without at least opening his mouth.
With that in mind, he said, ‘There’s a few women’s rights enthusiasts who would disagree with that statement, Maggie, but not me.’ He turned to look at Sarah now. ‘What about you, Sarah?’ he asked quietly, his voice soft but expressing something that went far beyond the actual words.
‘Me?’ He was asking her approval in making Vanessa an honest woman and mother of his children? Well, she could hardly concur, whether he liked it or not. ‘I think some women would make awful mothers actually, just as some men are never meant to be fathers.’ Sarah raised her chin slightly. ‘But everyone to their own, of course.’
‘Oh, of course.’ He knew his tone was a touch too hearty, but the heat spiralling up from the depths of him would be reflected in his face in a moment if he didn’t get out, and he made his goodbyes and left the house at once.
Rodney drove steadily and without undue haste to a quiet tree-lined street not far from Emery Place, where, after parking between two family saloons, he remained sitting in the car without moving for a long time. She had known what he was asking, he had seen something register in her eyes as he had spoken. And it was fair enough, she had made it quite clear over the last weeks that she didn’t want him to embarrass her by putting her in the position where she would be forced to spell it out.
He hit the steering wheel with a clenched first with enough force for it to hurt. It was over, finished, not that it had ever begun. He couldn’t hound her, coerce or use force to make her love him, and neither did he want it to get so she dreaded the sound of his name or the sight of him.
He stretched in his seat for a moment, pain gnawing at his vitals. Well, he hadn’t let those devils in the camp beat him and he wouldn’t let this either, but of the two . . . He straightened, his face grim. Of the two, he knew which was going to be the harder fight to win.
Chapter Twenty-two
‘Here, lass, I’ve just bin sayin’ to Florrie, you don’t think that’s the doctor’s sister-in-law, do you?’
‘What?’
It was the evening of the next day, and Maggie and Florrie were sitting in front of the fire in their room, Maggie reading the paper and Florrie knitting a little matinee jacket for Lucy-Ann - when Maggie hailed Sarah as she put her head round the door to ask if they would like a cup of tea.
‘This bit in the paper, here.’ Maggie thrust the paper at Sarah as she came fully into the room. ‘You read it, lass.’
It was a small piece extolling the personages who had attended a charity gala, and in the listed names there was a Lord Simmons and a Mrs Vanessa Mallard.
‘I know you said she’s broke up with him, separated like, but that looks a bit final, don’t it, if she’s taken up with some Lord or other?’
‘But—’ Sarah stared at the black print as the letters danced.
‘Aye?’
‘Oh nothing, nothing. Perhaps . . . perhaps he’s just a friend.’
‘Aye, an’ perhaps pigs fly, but I like me bacon where I can see it. If this Lord Simmons is escortin’ her to fancy dos, knowin’ how some folk talk, I’d say he means business meself.’
So would she. Sarah stared at Maggie for a moment as her mind raced. Yes, so would she, and that meant - what? That Vanessa and Rodney had parted? Fallen out perhaps? Or . . . or could it be that their affair had never been fact in the first place? But if that was so, why had Vanessa taken the trouble to seek her out and tell her a pack of lies? It must have been true. Oh, she had to go somewhere quiet and think, but there was no hope of that until she was in bed. There had been something between Vanessa Mallard and Rodney, she’d sensed it at Christmas, but could it have been just that they’d been engaged once and it had finished? No, it was no good, she couldn’t think of this now, she had too much to do. She would think of it later when she was alone.
Once in the hall again she tidied her hair in the large gilt-framed mirror, drawing a few soft golden strands that had escaped the french pleat at the back of her head into place with shaking hands, and noticing the brightness in her eyes with a little sigh of despair at her own foolishness. This probably meant nothing, nothing, she told the shining blue eyes staring back at her. He could be a friend of Vanessa’s, even a friend of Richard’s, there could be a hundred valid explanations. But she could ask Rodney about the article, couldn’t she, casually, as though it didn’t mean anything one way or the other? There was nothing wrong in that.
Inspection completed she walked back down the hall and int
o the kitchen, enchanging a few words with Hilda as she busied herself with a tea tray for Maggie and Florrie, and chivvying Eileen along as the girl cleaned the stove for morning with snail-like slowness, before hurrying along to the morning room and spending a few minutes glancing through the housekeeping accounts. But she couldn’t concentrate . . .
When Hilda and Eileen popped their heads round the door to say good night she decided to call it a day, checking first on Maggie and Florrie, who were both now tucked up in their beds, before doing her rounds and making sure the house was secure for the night. Once in her room she got ready for bed quickly, her mind continuing to chew at various possibilities for the article in the paper, and after some twenty minutes, when she had given herself a thudding headache, she climbed out of bed again and took a couple of aspirins with a drink of water. She had to go to sleep, she had a million things to do in the morning, and the only way she could get to the bottom of all this was to speak to Rodney anyway. And she would. In the morning she would take the bull by the horns and ring him, even if it did look incredibly nosy. Her mind made up she climbed back into bed and was asleep within minutes.
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