by SL Beaumont
Chapter 7
“So you don’t really know anything about Sophie or her relationship with Edward or what happened between them to cause a feud that has lasted this long?” Stephanie asked.
“Just that she was a dreaded Wakefield,” James grimaced, faking horror. “Our two families had some feud running before they met and would have nothing to do with one another. The fact that Edward and Sophie were having an affair scandalised both families. And then she died. A car accident, I believe.”
Stephanie nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Hey, are you free tomorrow? We could ask my grandmother about her. She was her sister after all,” she suggested.
“Yeah, okay. You’ve been courageous enough to come onto Knox land. I have to be brave enough to venture into Wakefield territory,” he said, grinning.
“I love that painting behind the desk. Who is it by?” Stephanie asked, looking up at it again.
“I’m not sure, someone famous apparently. It was given to grandfather by a business acquaintance just before the war. I think it has hung here ever since,” James replied glancing at it.
They chatted a little longer on university, the band and their plans for the summer.
“What are you studying at Oxford?” James asked.
“History and economics,” she replied.
James looked surprised. “You are full of surprises. I didn’t have you down as the business type,” he said.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, James,” she smiled at him.
“Well it’s good that I have the summer to find out then, isn’t it?” he smiled back at her, holding her eyes.
Stephanie looked away first and glanced at her watch; nine-thirty pm.
“Is it time for me to take you home?” She wasn’t sure if she imagined the disappointment in his voice or whether she was simply hoping it was there. Stop it, she told herself sternly.
“Yeah, I think so. This has been really interesting. Thanks for showing me the photos,” she said.
“My pleasure,” he smiled at her, his gaze lingering on her eyes and dropping to her lips.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t imagine that, she thought, her heart beginning to beat faster.
He leaned towards her, just as the library door swung open and a man burst into the room. His resemblance to James was striking, except that he was taller and broader across the chest. His dark hair was cropped and neatly parted and he was wearing an expensive looking dark blue suit. Even more surprising was the fact that he was the younger of the two men with whom her father had exchanged angry words in the village a few days earlier. Of course, the Knox-Wakefield feud. How didn’t I see the resemblance to James, then? she thought, amazed at her lack of observation.
“Little brother – Grace said I’d find you here. You know we don’t like you entertaining your girlfriends in the library,” he said condescendingly. James rolled his eyes as he pulled back from Stephanie and stood up.
“Alex – you’re back,” he said, his voice flat.
“Mmm, just drove down from London,” Alex said rather pompously. “And you are?” He held his hand out to Stephanie who had also risen. He didn’t seem to have recognised her.
“Stephanie,” she said shaking his hand uncertainly. Probably best if I don’t mention my surname, she thought, before adding, “Ah, pleased to meet you.”
“We were just leaving, Alex. I’m going to drop Stephanie home,” James said.
“Mmm. What are these?” Alex looked at the photos spread out on the desk.
“Just looking at some old photos. Stephanie is studying History at Oxford and I thought she might be interested in our famous ancestor,” James said.
“Mmm, mmm,” Alex replied sounding knowledgeable, “our war hero.”
“See ya, Alex.” James grabbed Stephanie’s hand and pulled her towards the door.
“Bye,” she said as she stepped through it, pulling the strap of her bag over her head and across her body.
“Stupid bastard,” James muttered, pulling the door closed behind her. Stephanie raised her eyebrows, surprised. Clearly there is no love lost between the Knox brothers.
“What does he do, James?” she asked, following him down the sweeping flight of stairs to the main entrance.
“He’s a ‘fine art and antiques dealer’,” he said mimicking his brother’s voice. He curled his lip in disgust. “Enough about him – are you up for a slightly more open-air ride home?” he grinned at her.
“Sure?” she said, not at all sure.
“Wait here.” He returned a minute later carrying two leather jackets and two motorbike helmets.
Stephanie grinned. “Ah, that sort of open-air ride.”
James opened the front door for her and they were about to go through, when a deep voice called. “James?”
“Yes, Grandfather. Just dropping my friend home. I’ll be back shortly,” James answered politely.
Footsteps echoed across the marble floor of the foyer. Stephanie turned to see a tall, elegant, white haired man walking towards them. He was dressed in a formal shirt and trousers, with a deep blue smoking jacket buttoned up over them. He looked as though he had stepped straight out of a 1950s photo shoot. He was also the companion of the man who had confronted her father in the village.
His smile froze and turned to horror as he looked from Stephanie to James and back to Stephanie.
“W w who..?” he stuttered, his face going pale.
James rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”
The old man’s composure returned and he waved his hand impatiently at James’s fussing.
“Who is your friend? I don’t believe I have had the pleasure?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“This is Stephanie,” James said.
“Stephanie who?” the old man asked, not taking his eyes off her.
“Stephanie Cooper, sir. Pleased to meet you,” she said as she held out her hand and smiled tentatively at him.
He recoiled as if she had hit him.
“Cooper.” He practically spat the name. He shook his head, turned on his heel and walked back into his study. “I will see you in my study upon your return, James,” he ordered, shutting the door with a loud bang.
“Wow, I guess that’ll be the feud, then?” Stephanie asked James, who was looking at his grandfather’s retreating figure and shaking his head in disbelief.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said looking embarrassed.
Stephanie followed him through the front door and along to a side gate, puzzled by the old man’s reaction. Feud, sure, but he looked like he’d seen a ghost.
James led the way around the side of the house to an old stable which had been converted into garages and indicated towards his Vespa with a sweep of his arm. “My stead,” he joked. “Here, let me help you.” He held the leather jacket out for her and she slipped her arms into it. He pulled the helmet down over her head and attached the clip under her chin. He quickly did the same himself and stepped onto the Vespa.
“Hop on, Steph,” he said. It was the first time he had shortened her name, as her old friends did. It sounded somehow very intimate coming from his lips and she hesitated for a moment before swinging on behind him slipping her arms around his waist. Beneath his helmet he grinned and accelerated through a gateway and down the long driveway past the lake.
“Thanks,” she said shyly, several minutes later, handing him the jacket and helmet and running her hands through her hair to give it some lift after having the helmet pressed down on it. James lifted the seat of the bike and placed the jacket and helmet inside. He turned to her, removing his own helmet and put his arm around her waist pulling her towards him. They gazed at each other for several seconds before he dipped his head and kissed her very gently on the lips. Their kiss deepened as she twisted her fingers into his hair.
The sound of someone clearing their throat broke them apart.
“I think I should go,” James said quietly, glancing over her shoulder before d
ipping his forehead forward to rest lightly against hers for a moment.
“Yeah, probably best,” Stephanie agreed, feeling a little lightheaded.
“See you tomorrow?” he murmured.
“Okay, good night.” With an effort she turned and ran up the front steps, slipping past her father who stood with the door open for her. She didn’t meet his eyes, but turned briefly and watched James drive down the driveway and out onto the lane.
What about Victoria? she wondered.