No Gentle Possession

by Anne Mather

  The manservant came at once, the smile on his face disappearing as he saw the blood on his employer’s neck. ‘Y – yes, sir?’

  Alexis moved irritably. ‘I want you to take Miss Sinclair home. Will you do that?’

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ Blake was concerned.

  ‘Yes, of course I’m all right.’ Alexis was impatient. ‘I’ve cut myself, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Blake looked beyond Alexis to where Karen was still standing. ‘I’ll get your coat, miss.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Karen moved forward slowly, but Alexis walked into the hall ahead of her, crossing to the stairs to mount them two at a time. He disappeared along the landing and she was left there alone to wait for Blake.

  The manservant returned a few minutes later having put on a jacket and helped her into her coat. Then he glanced rather doubtfully up the stairs. ‘Are you ready to leave, miss?’

  Karen looked upstairs too and then she made a helpless movement of her shoulders. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m ready.’

  She had the distinct feeling that if he said much more she would burst into tears there and then, but to her relief he seemed to accept what she had said and opened the outer door.

  In no time at all, it seemed, the big Aston Martin was slowing to a halt outside her home, and gathering together the exercise books from the back seat, she managed to thank Blake politely.

  The manservant was courteous, but she could tell he was more concerned with Alexis than with her, and was obviously eager to get back to the house and assure himself that he was all right.

  Karen’s feelings were less easy to assimilate. She felt she didn’t know herself any more. Alexis had deserved what she had done. He had deliberately destroyed the futile defences she had raised against him, and she had been right to use the only weapon left to her.

  So why was it that instead of feeling relieved and triumphant, she had this terrible feeling of remorse inside her? Why regret something which had saved her from humiliation and the destruction of self-respect?

  She walked up the path to the door in a state of deep depression, despising the weakness inside her that urged her to go back to the house in Moorcourt and beg Alexis to forgive her for what she had done …

  CHAPTER SIX

  ABOUT a week later, Karen’s father came home from work one evening looking particularly pleased with himself. He entered the living-room humming, and went straight to the fire to warm his hands. Then he smiled cheerfully at his wife and daughter who were having a cup of tea together before preparing the evening meal.

  Laura looked up at him tolerantly. ‘I know it’s thawing, and there are crocuses out in the front garden, but I didn’t realize that spring was actually here.’

  Her husband straightened and turned to warm his back. ‘Very amusing,’ he remarked amiably. ‘I gather you are referring to me.’

  ‘To your demeanour, yes.’ Laura rose to her feet. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘That would be nice.’ Her husband touched her cheek. ‘You’re looking rather attractive this evening.’

  Laura sighed. ‘What is it? Have you won something? Or has Alexis Whitney given up his managership?’

  Karen went cold inside. Since the night Alexis had taken her to his house for a drink she had heard nothing about him. Her mother had accepted her explanation that he had called at the school to tell her about her father working late rather than make a special journey to the house without question, and she had tried to put all thoughts of him out of her mind.

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ her father was saying, swinging backwards and forwards on to his heels and toes, ‘it is to do with Whitney. He’s not at work,’

  ‘Why?’ Karen couldn’t prevent the question, and her mother turned to look at her impatiently. However, her father had no such reservations.

  ‘He’s ill. Been in bed a couple of days, I believe. He wasn’t in yesterday, but I thought nothing of that. He’s often away for days visiting warehouses, that sort of thing. But Summerton came to my office this morning and explained that he wasn’t well.’

  ‘Do you know what’s wrong with him?’ Karen refused to meet her mother’s questioning gaze.

  Her father shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Cold, I expect. What else could it be?’ He snorted cheerfully. ‘Unless he’s got blood poisoning.’ He laughed.

  Now it was Laura’s turn to be curious. ‘Why should he have blood poisoning?’

  ‘Well, he had this – kind of injury to his neck. He had a plaster over it, but I went into his office one day when he had taken it off, and if you ask me someone’s bitten him. Oh, he said it was a cut, but it didn’t look like a cut to me.’

  Laura clicked her tongue exasperatedly. ‘I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Dan.’

  ‘No, I’m not’ Karen’s father chuckled. ‘Some kind of she-cat did it, if you ask me, and I don’t mean the four-legged variety.’

  To Karen’s relief, her mother merely made a disparaging movement of her shoulders, and walked out into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It was as well she had not examined her daughter’s face too closely or she might have seen what Karen was trying desperately to hide.

  All the same, Karen could not dismiss what her father had said from her mind. Was it possible she was responsible for Alexis’s illness, and if so, what ought she to do, about it? What could she do about it?

  She lived with the problem for two days, during which time she waited anxiously for her father to make some further explanation. But none was forthcoming and as Alexis was still off work, she realized she would have to go to Alexis’s house and find out for herself. Blake would be there to mediate, and what was more natural but that she should make an inquiry on her father’s behalf?

  She walked up to Moorcourt after work on Friday evening. Ray as usual was having his choir practice, so she did not have to tell any lies to him, and her mother expected her home a little later than usual, after she had done some shopping.

  Apart from the fact that a newspaper was jutting through the letter-box the place looked deserted, and Karen felt a twinge of apprehension. Perhaps Alexis had gone away, down to his father’s home.

  She rang the bell twice and waited. There were no sounds coming from inside the house and she frowned. Even if Alexis had gone away, surely Blake would still be here.

  But no one came to answer the door and on impulse she walked round the back of the building. She was glad of the high concealing wall surrounding the place. She had no desire to be observed prowling about Alexis’s garden by someone like Lucy Summerton, for example.

  She looked through a window into a large kitchen with modern, streamlined fittings, but there was no sign of anyone. Only a breadboard rested untidily on the table and beside it a half-eaten loaf of bread, which struck her as being rather odd.

  She frowned. Perhaps Alexis was asleep and Blake had gone to the shops. She hesitated. She would knock once more and if no one answered the door she would have to go.

  Picking up a stone, she hammered on the back door, hearing the sound echoing hollowly round the house. It was twilight after a rather dismal day, and there was something rather eerie about standing there in the shadow of a clump of stark elms trying to summon life from an obviously dead building.

  She was about to turn away when she heard sounds behind the heavy door, and after a few moments it swung a few inches inward and a tall figure, half concealed by the fading light, appeared. As her eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom she saw to her amazement that it was Alexis who stood there, swaying slightly, his face pale and drawn, the growth of several days’ beard on his chin.

  ‘Karen?’ he muttered nasally, almost as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘What do you want?’

  Karen made an awkward gesture and then realized that he was only wearing a knee-length dressing robe and that his feet were bare on the parquet flooring. Although it was much milder than of late, it was still very cold, and she could see he was shi
vering.

  ‘May I come in?’ she asked quickly, and with a helpless shrug he stood aside and allowed her to enter.

  They faced one another in the gloomy kitchen, but Karen was more concerned about him now than about her reasons for coming here. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Let’s go through on to the carpeted floor. You’ll catch your death out here.’

  Alexis put a weary hand round the back of his neck. ‘I’m all right,’ he muttered, but he sounded terrible. It was obvious he had ‘flu, and that it had invaded his chest as well.

  ‘Please,’ she begged again, and with a defeated gesture he led the way through to the wide hall. Once there, he leant against the banister and said:

  ‘What do you want?’

  Karen ignored him. ‘Where’s Blake?’

  ‘Blake?’ He seemed confused, as though the effort of thinking was too much for him.

  ‘Yes, Blake! Where is he?’

  ‘Oh, he had to go down to London. His mother’s been taken ill. He left yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘And you’ve been alone since then?’ Karen was aghast.

  ‘I’m not an invalid!’ remarked Alexis dryly, but then began to cough as though to prove himself wrong.

  ‘You ought to be in bed!’ she exclaimed anxiously.

  ‘I was. Until you started ringing bells and hammering on the door!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Karen felt a stab of compassion. ‘Have you had anything to eat or drink today?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ He raked a hand through his hair, and as he did so she saw the scar she had left on his neck. But it was not inflamed or angry-looking, so obviously that had not poisoned him. ‘Look, can you say what you have to say and go? I feel lousy!’

  ‘Why I came isn’t important,’ stated Karen, unfastening her coat. ‘Go back to bed. I’m going to make you some tea.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ He was quite definite about that. ‘I don’t need anything, and besides, Blake will probably be back in the morning.’

  Karen ignored him and draped her coat over the banister. ‘Please,’ she said again, ‘let me make you something. I want to.’

  Alexis regarded her wearily. ‘Why? I thought you hated me.’

  Karen flushed. ‘Go back to bed. You need the rest.’

  ‘Do I? Why?’

  ‘Because you’re ill,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Who cares?’ His tone was ironic, but it shredded her resolve to remain indifferent to him.

  ‘I care,’ she answered fiercely. ‘Now, will you go back to bed?’

  Alexis studied her averted face for a few minutes longer and then without a word he turned and went upstairs. Karen watched him until he was out of sight before re-entering the kitchen and switching on the fluorescent light.

  She drew the venetian blinds before making a cursory exploration. There was plenty of food in the refrigerator, she found, steaks, chops, vegetables and salad. There was also a meat pie, but she sensed that Alexis would want nothing so heavy in his condition.

  She enjoyed preparing the meal. She seldom had much opportunity to use her cooking skills at home as her mother usually did everything herself, but here she had a free hand.

  She made some toast, scrambled some eggs with a light flavouring of cheese, and added a small salad. Then she made a pot of tea and after finding a tray and a cloth she set everything upon it.

  The hall was shadowy, and she found the light before ascending the stairs. On the first landing there were several doors, and she hesitated a moment before approaching one that stood slightly ajar. She had chosen correctly, and when she propelled the door open with her shoulder she found herself in Alexis’s bedroom.

  It was a large room, like all the rooms in the house, but it was austerely furnished in plain woods with only the apricot bedspread and curtains to add some colour. There was a large, old-fashioned fourposter bed, and it was in this that Alexis was lying. He had shed his dressing gown before getting into bed, and the tanned contours of his shoulders were visible as he lay, half on his stomach, one hand pushed up under his pillows as though to support his head. He appeared to be asleep and Karen stood looking at him doubtfully for a few minutes. There was something infinitely vulnerable about anyone in sleep and she was aware of a disturbing sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Alex!’ she said his name softly, but there was no reaction and with a sigh she looked down at the loaded tray. Obviously, for the moment he wanted nothing.

  Turning, she left the room again and went back downstairs. In the kitchen she regarded the scrambled eggs thoughtfully, and then on impulse she seated herself at the kitchen table and tackled them with surprising enjoyment. She could easily make some more later, and there was no point in wasting them.

  When the washing up was done she glanced at her watch. It was almost six. Her mother would be beginning to get concerned about her, but what could she do? She didn’t intend leaving here until she was sure that Alexis was fit to be left alone.

  On impulse, she went through to his study, and closing the door picked up the telephone and dialled her parents’ home. Her mother answered, sounding relieved to hear Karen’s voice.

  ‘Where are you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Dinner’s almost ready!’

  ‘Well, actually, I called at Melanie’s,’ said Karen, crossing her fingers guiltily. ‘And I’m still here. She’s not well, she’s full of cold, and I’ve promised to stay and keep her company this evening.’

  Laura sounded put out. ‘But what about your dinner?’

  ‘I can easily have something here. A snack will do. You don’t really mind, do you, Mum?’

  Laura sighed. ‘I suppose not. Although you could have rung me sooner.’

  ‘I didn’t decide to stay until a few minutes ago. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ Laura gave her approval. ‘What time will you be home?’

  ‘I’ll ring you if I expect to be late,’ said Karen quickly.

  ‘What about Ray?’

  ‘You know I don’t usually see Ray on Friday evenings. But if he does come round, you can explain, can’t you?’

  ‘All right. See you later, then.’

  Returning to the kitchen, Karen wandered round aimlessly for a while, looking into all the cupboards and familiarizing herself with their contents. Then, tiring of this, she went back into the hall and by a process of elimination opened all the doors until she found a room that looked like the lounge. There was an enormous television there, but she didn’t feel like watching that just now, so she examined the contents of the bookcase instead. Obviously, most of the furniture in the house had been there for years, since Jeff Pierce’s time, but as he had been a widower and had only rented the house from the company, after his retirement he had gone to live with his married daughter and very little had been changed.

  She found a rather dated thriller and settled down to read for a while, but although she read the words they meant little to her. She was totally involved with what was going on upstairs.

  The small French clock was chiming eight when she heard Alexis coughing, and leaving the lounge she made her way back upstairs. It was dark now and without putting on a light she couldn’t see whether he was asleep or not, so she stood for a few seconds listening to his breathing, trying to decide whether he was awake. When a small bedside lamp was unexpectedly illuminated she almost jumped out of her skin. Alexis had leant across to put it on and was now propped on one elbow regarding her with eyes that were narrowed against the sudden brightness. There was a mat of hair on his chest, she saw, several shades darker than his hair, and his skin looked brown and smooth. She had the almost irresistible desire to touch him, but his first words brought her to her senses. Blinking, he said: ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  Karen shrugged nervously. ‘I heard you coughing and I came to see if you were awake.’

  ‘You heard me coughing!’ He obviously found this incomprehensible. ‘How could you do that?’

  ‘I was downstairs.’ Karen cau
ght her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I came up earlier with some food, but you were sleeping.’

  Alexis ran a perplexed hand down his chest. ‘You were downstairs? How did you get in?’

  ‘You let me in.’ Karen sighed. ‘Don’t you remember?’

  Alexis sank back against his pillows as though the effort to support himself was too much for him. ‘I guess so,’ he muttered, but she realized he did not. From the stertorous sound of his breathing and the beads of sweat filming his forehead she knew he had quite a fever and a doctor was what was needed here.

  ‘Look,’ she said carefully. ‘You’ve got ‘flu, and it’s quite obvious that you can’t cope here alone. Let me call your doctor—’

  ‘No! I don’t need a doctor.’ He was adamant.

  ‘But you do,’ she protested. ‘ ‘Flu is a serious illness!’

  ‘Then what are you doing hanging about here? Aren’t you afraid I’ll contaminate you—’ He broke off to cough harshly and Karen looked away.

  ‘Alexis, please,’ she exclaimed. ‘Be sensible! Unless you stay in bed, it’s going to get worse.’

  ‘I am in bed,’ he remarked wearily.

  ‘I know you are now. But from the state of the kitchen you’ve been going downstairs for drinks and things when you shouldn’t move out of this room.’

  ‘And what would you suggest I do? Remain thirsty?’

  ‘No. Let the doctor provide a nurse—’

  ‘No, thank you.’ He interrupted her before she could finish.

  ‘You made my father see a doctor.’

  ‘Your father’s past middle-age. I’m not. Look, this is getting us nowhere. Why don’t you just accept that I’m not seeing a doctor, and that I’ll cure myself, given time?’ He closed his eyes and then opened them again. ‘Why should you care what happens to me?’

  Karen bent her head. ‘I should care about any human being who seems bent on injuring himself.’

  ‘Would you?’ Alexis sighed. ‘I wonder.’

  Karen hesitated. Then she said: ‘Are you hungry now? Do you want anything?’

  ‘I’m thirsty, that’s all,’ he admitted reluctantly.