Desire For Revenge. PENNY JORDAN
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putting a lot of pressure on me, and I suspect it won’t be long before he actually threatens me. I can’t turn to Steven for help—that would mean admitting that I can’t handle the responsibility that goes with my job.’
‘Mmm…I don’t know about that.’
‘The thing is this writer has guessed that I’m still a virgin, and that’s why he’s so determined to get me into bed.’
‘Mmm…the old story of the male ego. Well, there is one simple solution.’
‘Rid myself of said virginity,’ Sarah said lightly. ‘That had already occurred to me but it’s not quite as easy as that, is it? After all, I can hardly go up to the first passably attractive male I see and say “would you mind making love to me?”, can I?’
‘No,’ Jane laughed, agreeing with her. ‘Is he married?’ she asked.
‘Very much so. I feel dreadfully sorry for his poor wife. He really is a loathsome specimen. The sort that makes your flesh creep. Oh, he’s attractive enough I suppose in his way…but there’s just something about him…’
‘Mmm. I know what you mean, and I can understand your dilemma. Want me to look round for a suitable specimen of manhood for you?’ she teased, bringing a lighter note to their conversation as Sarah grinned and replied threateningly, ‘Just you try!’
They went on to talk about their grandmother, who Jane told her had settled in extremely well at the home.
‘I thought we might go and see her tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got to go into town to collect our costumes.’ She made a wry face. ‘I’m dreading this damned ball. It’s the local social event of the year, you realise and we’re extremely privileged to be invited.’
‘I can tell that by your excitement,’ Sarah responded solemnly, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘What are we going as?’
Jane smiled at her. ‘Wait until you see our costumes. The do’s being held at Merton Place, and since it was built at the height of the Georgian era, I’ve gone for very traditional Georgian outfits for all three of us. I had to go to Stratford to get them, I’ll have you know—nowhere in Gloucester stocked anything that would do. They’re theatrical costumes and very, very ornate. They’re being sent by express delivery to the local station tonight, that’s why we’ve got to go to town to pick them up tomorrow.’
‘I can’t wait to see Ralph dressed up as a Georgian dandy…’ Sarah commented.
Jane gave a wicked giggle. ‘I’m going to make him powder his hair but he doesn’t know it yet! If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re being invited by one of Ralph’s most important clients, I might be looking forward to it a little bit more.’
‘You’ll enjoy it when we’re there,’ Sarah consoled her sister and then, changing the subject, invited, ‘Now tell me about my niece and nephews…
‘Come on, Auntie Sarah, wake up…’
Stubby fingers touched her eyelids, giggles erupting somewhere in the direction of her left ear. Someone was trying to tickle her ribs, and entering into the spirit of the game, she pretended she was still asleep, waiting until her three tormentors had given up trying to wake her before suddenly sitting up and grasping the nearest cuddly bundle and subjecting its ribs to the same torment so recently inflicted on her own.
The bundle in question just happened to be her niece, her helpless giggles and shrieks almost splitting Sarah’s ears. The two boys, of course, had to join in the game, the three children only subdued when Jane marched into the bedroom carrying a mug of tea which she placed beside Sarah, at the same time, sternly telling her trio of offspring to take themselves off to their own rooms and get dressed.
‘Little horrors,’ she commented balefully when the triplets had finally departed, but Sarah wasn’t deceived.
‘And don’t you just love them,’ she agreed with a grin.
‘Does it show that much? I suppose having had to wait so long for them…I must admit I’d just about given up hope.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Still there are some days when I do genuinely wonder why I ever bothered, and Louise is worse than the two boys put together. She can twist them and her father round her little finger.’
She sat down on the edge of Sarah’s bed and said. ‘What do you fancy doing this morning? I’ve done all the food shopping. The Vicar’s wife is going to take charge of the kids tonight. Ralph will look after them while we’re out this afternoon.’
‘Well, since I’m feeling rather lazy this morning, how about my taking my niece and nephews for a short walk?’
‘Great idea, if you’re sure you don’t mind,’ Jane enthused. ‘It will give me time to whip round with the vacuum before lunch. But be warned, don’t let them persuade you to take them into the village, or you’ll end up in the post office buying them sweets.
‘Oh, by the way, Haughton House has been sold,’ she added idly. ‘I’m not sure who to…but I thought you’d like to know. You’ve always had a thing about the old place, haven’t you?’
It was true, Sarah reflected half an hour later as she set off with a nephew firmly attached to either hand and her niece clinging firmly to the hand of one of her brothers. She had always been drawn to the beautiful Elizabethan manor house just outside the village.
It had been empty now for several months since the death of the last owner, and Sarah turned automatically in the direction of the footpath that led from the river, through a small wood, and then into the private grounds that went with the house.
At the boundary wall which separated the public footpath from the private, Sarah paused. The trees were not yet in full leaf and so she was able to see the house from where she stood. The sharp March sunlight turned the ancient brickwork to rose-gold, glinting here and there on mullioned windows. Apart from a couple of what appeared to be tradesmen’s vans parked outside, there were no signs of activity.
Sighing faintly she responded to Jeremy’s impatient tug on her left hand, and knew that as she obediently turned away from the house and back in the direction from which they had come that she had just said goodbye to a childhood dream.
As a teenager she had often come to this spot. There was a venerable oak tree several yards away, conveniently growing just by the boundary wall and in earlier years she had often hidden in its leafy branches simply daydreaming away a lazy summer’s afternoon, imagining that she owned the house… In those far off days she had played many roles as chatelaine of the house; sometimes an Elizabethan maid of honour, hidden away down here from the Queen’s wrath because she had caught the eye of one of her handsome courtiers; sometimes a secret Jacobite supporter, recklessly hiding one of the doomed Prince Charlie’s wounded supporters; sometimes a be-muslined Regency girl waiting in trepidation to hand over her childhood home to the distant cousin who had inherited it from her father—whatever the setting for her daydreams might have been, they had always had the same conclusion; the male playing opposite her leading role as chatelaine inevitably fell in love with her and they lived happily ever after with the house as their home.
Sarah grimaced faintly. How long ago those days seemed now.
‘Look, Auntie Sarah!’ Paul tugged importantly on her right hand, speaking in a hushed whisper. ‘There’s a rabbit.’
Sure enough he was right, and all four of them paused for a second to admire the attractive little creature before he caught their scent and bolted for cover.
‘OKAY, are we ready?’
‘As we’re ever likely to be,’ Sarah told her sister affectionately, as they hurried out to Jane’s small Metro.
Her sister was a competent driver,