Collecting Thoughts

by Irene Davidson

  Chapter thirty-two

  As she drove through the gate and down the lane after morning drop-offs the following Monday, Darcy’s head was buzzing with a hundred different things that all needed to be done.

  Deep in the throes of party planning for her and Gabriel’s upcoming engagement celebration, she was lost in a world of her own; her head full of menu-options, flower-choices and dress decisions to be made, as she drove the car into the wide bay at the end of the stable and parked. She got out, collecting a parcel from the front passenger seat before opening the rear door to unclip an excitable Gizmo from his car safety harness –he’d been so named by the children because of his dislike of getting wet- Connor and Rosie had found this out the hard way when he’d escaped the bath and run around the cottage, shaking water everywhere. She set the wriggling pup down on the ground where he promptly peed against the car wheel.

  Well, she thought contentedly, that was one less puddle in the house –there’d been more than one or two of those in the last week as Gizmo struggled to become accustomed to his new home but he was improving daily and had taken very little time to become a firm favourite with Connor and Rosie. Napoleon, however, was taking a little longer to come around to accepting his newest housemate and had resorted to spending much of his time sleeping up high on Connor’s bed, where Gizmo’s overly enthusiastic puppy tongue could not reach him.

  It was an overcast morning and the narrow concrete path that ran in front of the cottage was wet from rain the night before. She smiled as she watched the pup carefully skirt around several small puddles that had formed on the concrete, not wanting to get his paws wet. Darcy walked past the shuttered windows of the stable cottage, admiring her newly potted topiary boxes in their glossy green pots as she walked towards the outer door.

  The deep maroon-coloured pansies she had added were nodding their dark faces this way and that in the slight breeze. She turned to call Gizmo, who had back-tracked and was now snuffling his way along in front of the old stables, sticking his curious nose into any small gaps he could find under the doors to check for interesting smells. Judging by his slow progress, there seemed to a lot of them this morning.

  “Gizmo, come here boy,” she called. The little dog raised his head at the mention of his name but promptly went back to sniffing so Darcy walked back to pick him up, tucking him under one arm as she juggled pup and parcel, feeling about for her keys in her jacket pocket.

  With all the distractions, she was already at the door before she saw the translucent plastic Ziploc bag that had been tacked with a large six inch nail to the lower half of the timber door. She peered at the bag; there was a page of folded notepaper inside and she could just make out the impression of words written on the other side of the paper. She wondered why on earth someone would have resorted to hammering such a large disfiguring nail in her door just to leave a message.

  Darcy set the parcel and pup down on the doorstep to free her hands. As soon as his feet touched the pavement, Gizmo started his favourite game of playing tug of war with her shoelaces. Feeling unaccountably disquieted, she ignored the puppy, concentrating on the bag.

  The nail hadn’t been hammered in particularly firmly so she was able to loosen it with her hand, jiggling it side to side until she worked the metal free of the timber. It left a sizable hole. She grasped the plastic bag and pulled open the sides, putting her hand in to retrieve the note. As she tugged the paper out she saw that the bag had contained more than just the notepaper. Something at the bottom of the bag glinted in the morning sunlight. Curious, Darcy pulled the sides open further, tipping the contents into her the palm of her other hand.

  With a sick feeling in her stomach she recognised what the item was that had fallen into her palm. It was her old wedding ring –the same one she’d left in a ring box, not dissimilar to the one Gabriel had held in his hand a week ago –only this had been left hidden under her lingerie in her underwear drawer when she and the children had departed the house in Islington.

  There could be only one way it had found its way here.

  Patrick must have somehow discovered where she was. She glanced to either side and briefly over her shoulder, half expecting to see him appear from behind the hedge or around the corner of the stables. Suddenly, she was aware that there were numerous places a man could hide in close proximity to where she was standing. A tight knot of fear blossomed in her gut as she considered what to do.

  She wasn’t going inside –that was for sure. She’d seen those movies where you sat in your theatre seat and cried ‘you idiot, don’t get out of the car, don’t open the door to that wardrobe, don’t go into the house!’ and they did it anyway. She knew the construction crew were working in the walled garden and Gabriel was probably working in his apartment over at the chateau. She placed the ring back in the bag and without stopping to read the note bent to scoop up the pup before she ran as fast as she could in the direction of the chateau - keeping as far from the stables and any other possible hiding places as she was able.

  “That’s it,” the timbre of Gabriel’s voice was grim. “I want you to pack up whatever you need and move in here before tonight.” The order was one that brooked no opposition. Gabriel stood in the centre of his newly refurbished apartment’s salon, holding the note, staring down at the writing as if he would like to wring the neck of its author. “The security detail and I will accompany you while you collect what you require.” He had already telephoned both Connor and Rosie’s schools and sent Bertrand to collect the children. “I don’t want you walking around the chateau grounds, or anywhere else alone.”

  “I can’t do that,” Darcy protested. “I’d be little more than a prisoner in my own home. And the children will need to go back to school tomorrow,” she added more reasonably. “They shouldn’t miss classes. We can warn their teachers to make sure they know that only approved people can pick them up from school.”

  “You think that’s enough, given this?” Gabriel held out the scrawled message as if it was a poisonous viper that was ready to bite. “Might I remind you what it says,’ he reread the note,

  “My darling Darcy, Please find enclosed an item you seem to have left behind in your hurry to leave London. I want you to remove that blasphemous thing on your finger and replace my wedding ring, you lying, cheating Whore of Babylon and Mother of Harlots. You’re mine for the duration of your life so get rid of it - or there’ll be hell to pay. You remember that knife we bought while on holiday in Switzerland? Well, I’ve got it here with me and I’ll use it on you if you don’t do exactly as I say.

  Bet you thought I couldn’t find you? I just bided my time –It really wasn’t difficult at all to trail along behind your little friend. I knew she’d come and see you eventually –you two bitches have been joined at the hip since the night you met.

  I’ve been watching you all this last week and I can come get you whenever I choose. You just remember - You and your spawn belong to me and only me! Yours for all time, XX Patrick”

  The kisses looked as if they had been written in blood.

  Whilst Darcy admitted that Patrick’s letter made for disquieting reading and she’d been sickened the first time she’d run her eyes over the words but on hearing it again, she was fairly sure that it was more a dramatic effort on Patrick’s part to frighten her into submission than any real threat to her welfare. It wasn’t the first time he’d used threats of bodily violence to frighten her into doing things she hadn’t wanted to but he’d never followed through with anything before other than the sporadic use of his fists.

  She glanced at the plain gold ring, back in its bag and lying on the end table of Gabriel’s long leather sofa. Trust Patrick to misuse the rhetoric of the Bible to threaten her, she thought. As a long-lapsed Irish Catholic he was familiar with Biblical language but knew nothing of love, forgiveness or, as he’d proved time and again, fidelity.

  It had taken very little time after they were married for Darcy to make that discovery –but by
then she’d already been well into her pregnancy with Connor – the justification for their marriage. He’d been the unplanned icing on the cake of her final year of post-graduate study in London. That’s where she’d met Patrick –finishing off his Engineering degree. It just went to prove yet again, she thought sourly, that intelligence and a tertiary education didn’t necessarily make for a good person - it just made for a grammatically more eloquent class of liar and thug.

  She considered options, “Okay, I will agree to move for the time being,” she capitulated.

  Gabriel nodded.

  “But only for the time being –until we can establish if Patrick is still around or not. I’m not going to cower in the corner over this.” She was doing her best to sound positive but he could hear the tremble in her words.

  “Very well, I’ll set up the spare rooms for you, Connor and Rosie –they’ll have to share but it’s a large room, unless of course, you’d prefer to share with me?”

  “Nice try, but no,” she smiled thinly.

  “I thought not,” he hadn’t really been trying to get her in his bed –that would come soon enough. His aim had been to reduce the tension in the room and make her smile. He crossed the space and took her in his arms, holding her as if he could keep any and all harm from befalling her. As he held her, he felt her body shudder once with a spasm of unrelieved fear. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to place a gentle kiss upon her lips, “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” she replied nonchalantly, “a goose walked over my grave, that’s all.” Her face took on a distant look as she reconsidered if Patrick would act on his threats and how to keep her children safe. She twisted the new engagement ring around her finger in anxiety.

  “Okay.” He didn’t believe her for a minute but played along with her wish to put on a brave face. As a distraction he decided to change the subject to something more pleasant. Their upcoming engagement party would do admirably, he thought.

  They’d already discussed wedding dates and both wanted the engagement to be a short one. A Christmas wedding was the preferred option so far. His mother had finally halted her deliveries of old kitchen furniture –he’d received two chairs that went with the table as reminder to hurry up after the Sunday lunch- and had instead sent his grandmother’s antique Baccarat ruby crystal champagne flutes and a large bottle of Moët & Chandon by way of congratulation. It had been her suggestion that Gabriel host a celebration event at the chateau that would enable the remainder of his siblings and relatives who had yet to be introduced to Darcy to meet his future bride –this had rapidly grown from a simple dinner party into something approaching a formal ball, to which the village, the chateau and landscape construction crews and many of his employees were now invited.

  “Given all that’s happened, will you now let my PA take over the planning for the ball?” he asked.

  “When did it become a ball?” Darcy was surprised out of her reverie. “The last I heard –and that was just yesterday- it was a rather large, boisterous cocktail party to which we were inviting your family and the construction crew.”

  “Hmm,” he mused, “my sisters and mother got in on the act last night and came up with the idea that we open the chateau to the whole village, then somehow, ”and he still wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, “it became a formal ball to which I am now inviting my Parisian staff as well.”

  “Shush. What next?” he was relieved when she laughed and didn’t appear upset in the least. “No popes, no presidents, no minor royalty?” she ribbed.

  “Do not say any of that within my mother’s hearing,” he shook a finger in remonstration, “or it may be a case of ‘be careful what you wish for’,” he warned.

  “Oh, I don’t mind –we can do without the royalty but it’s high time this old place came alive again. I think a ball’s a great idea.” She paused, “As long as I don’t have to plan it –I hit my limit with the cocktail party.”

  “My staff will be more than capable of handling the organisation.”

  “I don’t have a gown,” she mused, pacing as she made plans. “I’ll have to go shopping for one –and for clothes for Connor and Rosie. I assume the children are still invited even though its turned into a more formal event?” She was wondering if a trip to Paris might be necessary.

  “Sure. Would you allow me to take care of the dress?” he asked.

  “I suppose so –no Versace though. I don’t want to wear something that costs more than my car,”

  That was fine. He’d been thinking more Dior than Versace anyway. “I’ll need to check your measurements,” he grinned. “You did say you might have put on a few pounds.”

  He easily ducked the cushion she threw at his head in response, grabbing her on her way past.

  “We’ll start with your hips, shall we?” Undaunted, he placed his large hands either side of her hips as if to estimate the circumference. “Okay, I think I have that, waist next,” he rubbed his hand over her buttocks, fondling their firm roundness before releasing her hips to slide them up to her waist. His hands almost spanning her narrow waist, he used the opportunity to pull her closer, “yep, got that …and next,” he slid his hands upwards towards her breasts,

  “I think I know where this is going,” she was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as his fingers encircled her ribcage, his thumbs lightly resting over her nipples. It would take more than her bra and clothing, she thought, not to feel the sensation of his caresses. She placed her hands over his, intending to gently move his thumbs away, instead finding herself mirroring his movements, eyes closed as she enjoyed the heightened awareness of her own body and feeling that she was rapidly losing control.

  With a sound that verged on a groan, Gabriel removed his hands. Taking her own in his, he joined them together behind his back before returning to kiss her, lightly and then more deeply as he twined his busy fingers in her hair. “We could shift the wedding date forward,” he breathed against her lips between kisses and caresses.

  He was driving her near-insane, feathering light kisses all round her mouth. “Fine by me, I’m not doing anything special tomorrow,” Darcy moaned, claiming his lips once more to sink into a deep, mindless kiss.

  “Darcy my love, we need to stop this, while I still have any shred of self-control,” Gabriel whispered raggedly minutes later.

  “Hmmm,” Darcy whimpered, overly aware that the soft sofa was only inches away and inviting them to use it as a makeshift bed.

  He gently but reluctantly pushed her away to arms’ length.

  He had very long arms, she thought frustratingly. “Next time, perhaps you’ll use a tape measure?” she said with what she thought was droll good-humour, then, more accusingly, “and I just remembered that I told you what size I was when you bought that white dress in Paris.”

  Well, he’d succeeded admirably in distracting her, he thought gruffly, and succeeded in equal measures in ensuring that he’d be having cold showers for days as well. He wasn’t too sure how he was going to survive her living in the same space for as long as it took to apprehend her ex but if they didn’t find him soon, it would be ruinous for his own health, of that he was quite sure.