by Kirsty Ferry
‘It’s perfect, then,’ replied Julian. He dropped a kiss on the top of her nose. ‘Now, if we are both serious, this will take a lot of planning.’
‘Oh, I’m deadly serious.’ Lorelei frowned into the distance. ‘The thought of living with him for the rest of my life. No. I simply can’t.’
‘I’m serious as well. My worry is that your life would be considerably shortened if I left you there. And to show you how serious I am …’ his heart started beating much faster and much louder and he was aware that there was a little crack in his voice. ‘I got you this to remember me by until we can be together properly.’ His hand dipped into his breast pocket and he pulled out a tiny box. ‘It’s yours,’ he said, knowing he must be scarlet by now, ‘as a friendship ring to start with. It’s yours for as long as you want it.’
Lorelei’s stare moved from Julian’s face to the box and back again, confusion and shock rendering her speechless for a moment. ‘May I open it?’ she asked eventually.
‘Of course.’ He handed it over and noticed that both their hands were shaking. Lorelei must have noticed it too. She stared at her hand as she held the box and laughed. ‘God, what have you done to me today? I shook like a leaf in that tea shop when I opened the package. And I’m doing it again.’
‘I don’t know.’ He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘Is that better? Because I don’t know what I’ve done to you but God knows what I want to do to you. I should maybe have done this at the cove. It was probably more appropriate for the way I’m feeling.’
‘And me,’ she whispered. Then she gently extricated her hand and opened the box. ‘Oh, my!’ Her eyes became round in her face. ‘It’s beautiful. How did you …’ She let the words drift away and took the ring out of the box.
‘Do you see the pattern?’ Julian asked. ‘I took a photograph, remember? Then I developed it and took it into a jeweller’s and asked if that sort of pattern could be made into a ring and then I put the order straight in. I think he’s done a beautiful job, don’t you?’
Lorelei nodded and then peered at the stone. ‘It’s a diamond!’ she exclaimed. She pulled her glove off and made to slip the ring onto the third finger of her right hand.
‘Allow me,’ said Julian.
She laughed and dropped the ring into his palm. ‘As you wish!’
‘Thank you. This, my love, is to recognise a special kind of friendship.’ Julian slid it onto her finger and for a moment, his heart jumped as she caught his hand and their fingers entwined briefly before she reluctantly disconnected them.
She held her hand up and tilted it this way and that so the stone caught the light. ‘I don’t want to wear it on this hand,’ she said quietly. ‘I want it on my other hand.’
‘One day,’ replied Julian. ‘One day, I promise you will be able to wear it there.’
‘It’s just not the right time, is it?’ she said sadly.
Julian realised her eyes were shining too, glistening with unshed tears. ‘It’s not,’ he replied, equally sadly, ‘but we will know when it is.’
‘Yes. Indeed, we will,’ she answered. ‘And until then, it will stay on this hand.’
The Road to Staithes, 1905
It was the hair that made him look twice. The woman had a hat on with a little veil and a scarf tying it to her head, but he had caught a glimpse of the midnight blue-black shimmer of her chignon at the back. Everything about her – the height, the bearing, the build – suggested it was his wife. And that man she had been with – louche, disreputable, too long hair … it looked awfully like that Cooper man.
Walter, travelling back from his mistress’s in an anonymous black carriage, slammed back in his seat and clenched his fists. That hair – that hair was what had attracted him to begin with. She used to wear it loose and he used to like it when she rode him, and trailed it across his naked flesh, laughing as he begged her to continue.
Now he hated it. He hated it when it escaped from its style. He hated it when a pin came undone or a curl escaped. He hated it when she tried to push it back into order. He hated it because it reminded him of his weakness and his desire. She was a whore. But more than that, she had ensnared him. She had woven a spell around him like a bitch on heat and he had sniffed around her until she had reeled him in.
God, he hated her.
And he loathed the fact that even now, as he laid his head back against the seat and groaned away his desire, he still saw her face laughing into his and her hair trailing across his torso. He couldn’t stand the fact that his most base instincts still craved her body.
He had to make it stop. He had to let her know – let her and her disgusting lover know – he knew about them. And then he would beat an apology out of her to make sure it never happened again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Dower House, Present Day
There was a knock on the door of the Dower House and Lissy, hearing it from upstairs, leaned out of the window and saw Stef standing there, his camera slung around his neck as usual.
He raised his hand to rap once more and she shouted down to him. ‘It’s open! You should have just tried it!’
Stef looked up and his beloved, handsome face broke into a grin. ‘Aha! I didn’t want to just walk in on you. It might have been an embarrassing moment.’
Lissy laughed. ‘There’s nothing embarrassing going on in here. Did you bring your luggage?’
‘I did. I’ve checked out of the B & B, and everything is in my car.’
‘One of the rooms up here is going to be ideal for your studio,’ Lissy replied. ‘It’s got the best view and one of those funny little sconces we saw up at the Hall. I’m desperately hoping it’s the one that would light the way for the smugglers. Hold on. I’m coming down.’
She withdrew and hurried down the staircase, meeting Stef as he walked in through the front door. He caught her when she ran towards him and picked her up, swinging her around as she clung on, laughing.
‘Are you sure that this will be all right?’ he asked, finally setting her down with a kiss.
‘More than all right,’ she agreed. ‘The lease is mine for the summer. Nothing says I can’t invite a friend around.’
‘A friend?’ Stef raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that all we are?’
Lissy blushed and looked away. ‘We’re maybe a little more than friends.’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Anyway – would you do me one favour, please?’
Lissy looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course. What is it? Do you need some help bringing the equipment in?’
‘I will later. But before that, would you mind walking up to the Hall with me again? I have been in touch with my friend and he asked would I be kind enough to take some photographs of the derelict building. We don’t need to go inside, don’t look such a scaredy-cat!’
‘But how is he going to see what it’s like if we don’t go inside?’ asked Lissy.
‘Well you don’t need to go inside, but maybe I do,’ amended Stef. ‘Anyway, I would like the company, sí?’
‘All right.’ Lissy reluctantly pulled on a pair of trainers and tugged her camisole down to meet the top of her shorts. ‘I’m ready, I suppose.’
‘Good.’ Stef took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I really don’t think it’s such a horrible place, you know. I will look after you, I’m here now.’
‘I just keep thinking of the things we saw up there,’ said Lissy as they left the Dower House.
‘Shadows, nothing more,’ replied Stef and raised her hand to kiss it.
Lissy moved closer to him, and soon they were strolling up to the ruin, their arms around each other.
‘I’d like to see around the back of the house,’ mused Stef. ‘I would like to try and get a few shots from that direction. The angle of the afternoon sun helps, I think.’
‘Whatever you want, but I’m running away if I see anything odd again.’
‘I can catch you though. You only have little legs.’
Lissy laughed. ‘
It’s not my fault I’m short!’
‘Good things come in small packages,’ said Stef, quite seriously.
‘So does poison. I’ve been told that one before. You know, like Circe and her jealous love.’
She cast a glance up to him, but he merely shrugged and kept his eyes fixed on the Hall as they approached it. ‘Circe? Who is Circe? I’ve never heard that name before. Here we are! Around the back, I think. Yes, let’s get it done immediately.’
He guided her around the edge of the building and as they took the corner, Lissy came to a sudden halt. ‘What’s that?’ she demanded.
In the centre of the lawn, beneath an ancient, gnarled tree, was a rusted old wrought iron table and two chairs, equally in a state of disrepair. On the table was a flask and a white box.
‘It seems to be a picnic of sorts – or maybe an afternoon tea,’ said Stef, feigning surprise. ‘Shall we investigate?’
Lissy held back. ‘Did you do this? Where did you get the furniture?’
‘Oh, I could never hide much from you, could I? Yes, I did do this, and I found the furniture in one of the old outbuildings. It has all seen better days, but it seemed a shame to leave it in there. Don’t worry, I gave it all a good clean before I brought you here. I know how you dislike grubby things – like your poor niece.’
‘I don’t dislike her! I love Grace! But one must admit that she does attract the dirt. So—’ Lissy took her hand out of Stef’s and moved forward. ‘A flask and a box. I presume it’s a box of cake?’
‘From a good old-fashioned bakery in Whitby. I had to queue for a long time to get served. It is a very, very popular place.’
Lissy just shook her head. ‘And dare I ask what’s in the flask?’
‘Hmm. Well it’s not champagne, as I think tea goes better with cake. It’s a very English thing. I tried to put hot chocolate in, but it just resulted in a gloopy mess. I’m sorry.’
Lissy burst out laughing. ‘Tea is fine. Shall I get pouring and you can start your photos?’
Stef raised his camera and framed the table. ‘I can start right now. And to be honest, I took plenty of photographs earlier when I came to set this up. We can just enjoy the tea and cake. I thought you could pretend you were Lady Scarsdale.’
‘Simply delighted to be her.’ Lissy dropped a beautiful curtsey.
Stef laughed and followed her to the table. He placed his camera on the surface, then pulled one of the chairs out for her.
As she sat down, he took the opposite seat. ‘I’ll unscrew the flask,’ he said. ‘You open the cakes. You can choose which one you prefer.’
‘Anything that involves chocolate and cream will always be my first choice.’ She lifted the lid of the box eagerly.
A wedge of chocolate cake greeted her, along with a slice of strawberry gateau, and she was about to comment on them, when she spotted something else. ‘Oh! What’s this?’ She pointed at a small package, wrapped up in a paper napkin.
‘Oh – that,’ responded Stef. ‘It’s for you.’
‘Really? Can I open it?’
‘You can. I just hope it’s not sticky.’
‘It’s not, it’s well wrapped, whatever it is.’ She unfolded the napkin and the world seemed to stand still. A battered red leather box, embossed with a jeweller’s name in gold lettering revealed itself. ‘Stef!’ Lissy looked up and saw that Stef had slid from the wrought iron chair to the grass and was, even now, on one knee, looking up at her.
‘Please? Open the box, cara mia.’
Lissy began to shake. ‘Is it what I think it is?’ she whispered, the years rolling back to Cornwall and an antiques dealer and a ring.
‘I don’t know what you are thinking,’ replied Stef, ‘but if you open the box it might help.’
Lissy nodded, speechless, and lifted the lid.
On a faded, red velvet cushion was a platinum ring. The centre was a solitaire diamond; a round, brilliant circle which, when you tilted it, would look like a glorious diamond spinning-top from the side. It was Edwardian and Old European cut and the shoulders were set with filigree leaves and flowers and what looked like tiny waves cresting over the decorations.
‘Stef …’
‘If you don’t want it to be an engagement ring, that is perfectly fine,’ Stef said hurriedly. Lissy looked at him. Even when she had caught him with that girl, even after everything that she had thrown at him this summer, she had never seen him look so unsure of himself. This was a man who didn’t know what was coming next. This man was terrified.
‘It can be a friendship ring,’ he continued. ‘I went back to the shop the day we saw it and bought it for you then.’ He made to stand up, his face flushed. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing down here at all. I think I may have dropped a lens or something—’
‘Stef! Stop it.’ Lissy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Tell me what you are really doing down there, or I promise I shall leave you kneeling there in misery.’
‘Honestly?’ Stef fixed dark eyes on hers.
‘Honestly,’ she replied.
Stef took a deep breath. ‘Lissy, I want to marry you. That is as honest as I can get. Will you do me the honour of being my wife? Not right now or not next month, and not even next year, not if you don’t want to. Just tell me that sometime in our future, I can be your husband, your lover, the father, perhaps of your children. It is all I have ever wanted, ever since I met you. And now, now I think I might be in a position to ask you.’ He looked down at the grass. ‘I am certainly in the correct position by kneeling, I think. But if you feel it should be different, then—’
‘Stop it. Just stop it.’ Before she could think, she was on her knees before him, his face in her hands. ‘Kiss me. Just kiss me. That will help me decide.’
‘It can be a friendship ring, truly. If that is all you want, take it as that. Take it as—’
‘Shut up, Stef.’ She pulled his face towards her and kissed him.
It felt right to have the ring now. It was its time and its place. It felt right to be with Stef, on the lawn, in front of Sea Scarr Hall, the tiny box between them.
‘It’s not going to be a friendship ring,’ she murmured as she pulled away. ‘Not at all. I don’t want to waste any more time without you.’ She pointed at the box. ‘It’s your turn now, Stefano Ricci. You have to do this next bit.’
Stef stared at her as if he had never seen her before. ‘Oh, my love,’ he whispered as she held her left hand out and splayed her fingers. He picked up the box and took the ring out. A ray of sunlight suddenly caught the diamond, sparking iridescent rainbows across the lawn and over the rusted white table. Lissy squinted as the gleam caught her unawares and looked away briefly, blinking. For a moment, out of the corner of her eye, the Hall was no longer a ruin, the table not rusted. The unkempt grass wasn’t cold beneath her bare knees, and her skin was protected by an ivory skirt. Her eyes were shaded by a cartwheel brimmed hat. The Hall was sturdy and thriving with people, laughter floated across the gardens.
But then, the images disappeared and she was back on her knees, in front of the man she loved; the man she had always loved.
And the ring fitted perfectly.
The Dower House, 1905
‘Stop the carriage!’ Walter rapped on the window and the carriage drew to a halt. He climbed out and threw some money at the driver, before sending him on his way.
The horses whinnied and their hoofbeats echoed as they disappeared into the distance, whilst Walter stood and surveyed the Dower House from the carriage drive.
‘I shall find out, and I shall destroy you both,’ he promised, and strode down to the little building overlooking the cove.
The fool had left the door unlocked, which made it much easier. He flung it open and stopped in the hallway, listening out for any sounds. It was silent. Walter looked at the staircase and felt his craving for her grow. He caught his breath, imagining her up there, coupling with that man. His eyelids fluttered briefly then he focussed on the steps and be
gan to climb them.
He prowled around the entire upstairs, sniffing the air, checking for her scent, hoping he would see her naked and— NO!
He turned and headed back downstairs, checking out room after room, scanning the place for a ribbon or a shoe or a petticoat or— NO!
His desire mounting, he pushed open the final door and stood stock still.
‘You bastard!’ he yelled. He raced over to a collection of photographic plates and grabbed them, staring at them, his eyes raking them, his breath coming faster and faster. It was her, in black and white, burned forever into a glass plate. She mocked him with her filth and her promiscuousness, her mouth full and sensuous, her body sleek and taut … ‘You disgust me!’ He shouted at one of the plates. ‘You both disgust me!’
He turned and stormed out of the room, the plates in his hands. He arranged them on a table in the stairwell and, his breathing ragged, stared at them, imagining what she— NO!
Tearing his gaze away from the pictures, he caught sight of a gun propped up by the coat stand.
Without pausing, without thinking about how his own body was reacting to the static images, he grabbed the weapon, took aim, and fired.
It was early evening by the time Lorelei and Julian returned to the cove. They had taken a carriage to the top of the cliff path and walked the rest of the way down.
Lorelei slipped at one point and Julian grabbed her to stop her tumbling down – and then, he told her, it just didn’t seem necessary to let her go. She looked up at him, laughing, and agreed. So they wandered down the path in the cooling air, hand in hand, secluded from anybody who may have chanced to see them; like Walter.
Lorelei hoped again that Walter had stayed with Harriet. She would know soon enough. If there was a message from him about an imagined storm or a lame horse or whatever nonsense he trotted out this time, then she was determined to come back down to the Dower House and spend as much of the evening with Julian as she could.
She was just about to voice this plan to Julian, when she saw the front door of the Dower House swinging open and she stopped dead in her tracks.
