“And I’m delighted to meet you.” Polly looked her up and down and then smiled as if in approval. “Let’s all go into the parlor, shall we? Be a dear, Sam, and help an old lady back to her sofa. I’m feeling dreadfully weak all of a sudden.”
As Sam hooked his arm in Polly’s, Julia followed them into a small, quaint room decorated with an overstuffed red velvet sofa and matching chairs. A fire roared in the hearth, adding warmth to the richly hued walls, Persian rug, lavish plants and a small coffee table set for tea.
Sam helped Polly settle on the sofa, and placed a blanket across her lap.
“There now,” Polly said, as she looked to Julia. “Sit, my dear!”
Julia dutifully sat in one of the chairs while Sam stood protectively at Polly’s feet.
Polly fanned herself as she spoke. “Oh Sam! Do my heart good and tell me this pretty lady is your fiancée! I’d be so happy to hear you’re going to marry.” She turned to Julia. “Do you know that he spends his evenings with me playing cards? I tell him ‘Go out, have fun’, but he stays in with his old lady friend instead.”
Sam poured a cup of tea and handed it to Polly. “Julia is a friend, Aunt Polly.”
Julia nodded her head in agreement.
Sam turned and shot her a playful wink. “Polly is worried I’ll end up an old bachelor like Barnabas.”
“I just don’t think a handsome young man like yourself should be spending time entertaining dotty old women like me, that’s all.” She lifted the tea to her lips, but continued to talk over the cup, lost in her own thoughts. “Of course, then again, I’d much rather have you here with me than off with that dreadful Deirdre Lamont who chases you about without half a shred of self-respect.”
Julia glanced at Sam. Never once in their chats had he mentioned Deirdre Lamont.
“Tea?” He held an empty cup towards her.
“No, no thank you,” she said.
Sam replaced the cup and glanced towards the door. “Well, then, right. I think I’ll see if I can help Barnabas with the luggage.”
Polly sighed. “Don’t smoke while you’re out there, Sam!”
Sam headed for the door, pausing to whisper to Julia. “I wonder how Barnabas tolerates the nagging.”
She smiled in response, wishing he wouldn’t leave just yet. Her nerves hadn’t quite settled and she felt lost for conversation with this seemingly nice lady who she had barely known for ten minutes. As Sam walked off, she glanced around the room. “Your home is lovely.”
“No, it’s garish.” Polly placed her tea on a side table. “Too hot in the spring and summer, too drafty in the winter.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Julia bit her lip, unable to think of anything else to say, but it didn’t’ seem to matter as Mrs. McTeel took the conversation reins.
“Julia, tell me. Are you Sam’s lover?”
Julia felt her face turn as scarlet as the chair she sat in. She swallowed, wondering if she heard the woman correctly. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, yes or no? I know he says you’re a friend, but he’s always so bloody evasive. I want to know things.”
Julia blinked and stammered. “No, we just-”
“Right then. Never mind that question,” Polly said. “That reaction tells me you’re not his lover, and you’ve never had a lover.”
The room grew unbearably hot and Julia feared she might self-combust from embarrassment. “I have a boyfriend back home.”
“Of course you have a boyfriend, dear, but you don’t have a lover. Two different things, entirely. And if you had a lover, you’d know the difference.”
Julia folded and unfolded her hands in her lap and contemplated running full speed out of the house.
But Polly continued. “Right then. Change of subject! How did you meet my Sam?”
Julia paused again, not sure Mrs. McTeel would approve of her ditching the choir tour for a trip to England.
“Well,” she started. “I was with some friends-”
Polly raised her hand, motioning for her to stop. “If it takes you that long to answer, my dear, then there’s something you’re not wishing to tell me. And if there’s something you’re not wanting to tell me, then it’s something I’m probably better off not hearing, yes?”
Julia sighed, feeling she couldn’t win no matter what she said. “Yes.”
“Then change of subject!” Polly laughed. “This seems rather like a game, now doesn’t it? Let me try another one.” Her eyes lit up. “What are your plans while in London?”
Sam’s voice answered from the doorway. Relief flooded through Julia. “Her plans are to decide to go into acting as a career, Aunt Polly. At least I hope to convince her so.”
Polly’s voice filled with surprise. “You’re an American actress?”
“No,” Julia said, upset with Sam for mentioning it. “I just graduated high school, but I would love to study acting.” She looked down at the floor.
“I plan to give her a whirlwind tour of the West End district and some of the other theaters in hopes of somehow inspiring her.” Sam walked into the room and stood by Julia’s side. “But first, I really must return to my flat and see if my agent called and get some sleep.” He turned to Julia. “You’ll be fine here with Polly.”
“Of course she will,” Polly added, as if insulted.
Sam walked over to his aunt, kissed her on the head and turned to Julia again.
“I’ll be back around tomorrow morning to pick you up. We’ll see a few sights and then tomorrow evening, we’ll get together with some friends of mine. Sound all right?”
Julia smiled with gratitude. “Thanks, Sam. And Mrs. McTeel, this is very nice of you to let me stay here.”
“Well, we can’t have you staying with this rogue now can we?” Polly winked at Sam who rolled his eyes.
“Goodbye Aunt Polly, good-bye Julia, goodbye ladies.” He feigned a pretentious bow and walked out, whistling as he went.
“He’s happy,” Polly said. “I think it will do him a world of good having you here, Julia. It will distract him.”
“Yeah, I know how anxious he is to get that call about the part.”
Polly seemed amused by her answer. “That’s not what I mean.”
Of course not. Wrong answer again!
“Tell me, Julia. Just how much do you know about Sam?”
Julia reiterated what Sam told her in the car.
“That’s it?” Polly seemed surprised. “Didn’t he mention his family?”
“No.”
Polly straightened up in her seat. “Well, it isn’t my place to tell it, which is exactly why I will.”
Julia allowed herself a laugh, happy to be free from interrogation.
“I took Sam in because his parents, dear friends of mine, were killed in a car accident when he was nineteen. He had nowhere else to go. Having no children of my own, I’ve always loved Sam like a son. He had very little money, and thought about enlisting in the military, but both he and I knew that being a soldier wasn’t in Sam’s blood. He wanted to be an actor, so I offered to take him in. This benefited us both, you see, because Sam had a home and could go to school, and I wasn’t alone in this huge house, although Barnabas stayed on after my husband passed.”
Julia found Sam’s life fascinating. “Couldn’t Sam just live in his own home?”
Polly shook her head. “He had no money except what he saved for school. He and his father had a terrible row about his career choice-”
“Acting,” Julia sighed, the story all too familiar.
“Yes, acting. Sam’s father wanted him to follow in his footsteps and run the family business but Sam has no mind for business. Despite that, his father insisted he work for the family company after his schooling and Sam flatly refused. Charles Lyons was not a man willing to accept defeat, however. He told Sam that if he defied his orders, he’d cut him out of the will.”
Julia thought of her own father and the reins he held on her career choice. “But given that Sam is an ac
tor, he must have gone against his dad?”
“Yes. He applied anyhow, and a letter of acceptance came from the Acting Academy addressed to Sam, but Charles opened it. When Sam came home that day, Charles, denounced him as his son, called him all sorts of terrible names and a terrible row ensued. A day later, Charles rewrote his will, leaving his entire fortune to his wife and then his business partner, cutting Sam out. Three weeks later, he and Sam’s mother were dead in a plane crash.”
“Oh, gosh,” Julia said. “Sam seems okay, now, though. The business partner must have given him his inheritance?”
“Ha,” Polly said, rolling her eyes. “Sam’s parents were killed on a business trip and guess who was the pilot of the small plane?”
“The business partner?”
“Tragically, yes. That was Richard Lamont, who, once he knew the business fortune might be entirely his someday, wasted no time at all in rewriting his own will.”
“And when he died?”
“His fortune went directly and solely to his only daughter, Deirdre. Not even a penny to his wife, but then she’s wealthy enough in her own right.”
Julia stared at Polly in disbelief. “So Sam is dirt poor and Deirdre Lamont has his inheritance?”
“Yes and there’s more,” Polly said, but a knock on the door interrupted her. Barnabas entered, holding a small, silver tray. “Excuse the intrusion, but it’s time for your medication.”
“Julia, I’m sorry,” Polly said. “Our conversation will have to resume tomorrow. I do need to follow doctor’s orders, and after I take these pills, I fear I shall nod right off.”
“I understand,” Julia said, disappointed to end the conversation.
“In what room will Julia being staying?” Polly asked of Barnabas.
“First room on the right, second floor, as you requested,” Barnabas said, addressing Julia. “I expect you are famished. I have placed an evening tray in your room.”
“Feel free to roam the house at your leisure,” Polly added. “We have no skeletons waiting to jump out from our closets, do we Barnabas?” Polly winked at the caretaker as he placed her medication tray next to her teacup.
“Not many.”
Julia rose to leave. “Thank you again for letting me stay here, Mrs. McTeel. There’s one more thing. I need to phone home and let my friend-, I mean, my dad, know I made it to your house.”
Polly reached for her pills. “Yes, now, that’s something I do recall speaking with Sam about last night. See? I’m not as daft as I seem. Barnabas can show you to the telephone and how to ring up. We’ll get to know each other better tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night, Mrs. McTeel.”
Chapter Twelve
“Miss Steele?”
Julia dreamt Eliza Doolittle called to her.
“Miss Steele?” A loud rapping accompanied her name. Eliza seemed impatient.
“Coming.” Julia fought to wake from a deep sleep.
“Miss Steele?” The knocking stopped, but the soft creak of a door forced Julia to pry open an eye and make sense of her surroundings. A young woman with a mass of short, dark curls and big, brown eyes stood in the doorway. She donned a maid’s uniform. “Sorry to wake you, Miss, but Mr. Lyons is downstairs waitin’ for you.” She spoke in a Cockney accent, and Julia realized she found her Eliza.
Julia bolted upright. Events of the past two days came rushing back. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and glanced around the richly decorated room. A small clock resided on a skirted, bedside table.
“Eight a.m.” she said. “It feels like five.”
Eliza didn’t answer, but went about the room opening the heavy, rose-colored, damask curtains.
“Did you say Sam’s here?” Julia hoped he wouldn’t come upstairs and find her looking such a mess.
“Don’t worry, Miss. He said to take your time. He’d visit with Mrs. McTeel. You’re to dress for a day on the town.”
Julia stifled a giggle. Dress for day on the town. As if she had so many choices in her suitcase. Her wardrobe consisted of jeans, sweaters, a few blouses, a jacket and her choir gown.
“May I shower?”
“In there, Miss.” The woman pointed to a door on her right. “You’ll find all you’ll be needin’. And I’ll be back with your meal. Normally you’d be eatin’ with the lady of the house, but she’s already up and about.”
“Thank you, El-” Julia caught herself. “What’s your name?”
“Sylvie, Miss.” She backed out of the door. “I’ll check in again in a bit.”
“Okay, thanks.”
As Sylvie closed the door, Julia pulled a pillow to her face and stifled a scream of happiness. She was in London, in a fantastic house with her own maid! Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine this happening. Julia silently praised Kim for such a great idea, and then praised herself for finally “living on the edge”.
After she showered and ate the light breakfast Sylvie brought, Julia studied herself in the dressing room mirror. Not exactly sure how to dress for “a day on the town”, she chose her favorite designer jeans and a pink polo shirt. She tied a matching pink pullover sweater around her shoulders. She let her hair hang straight, hoping not to delay Sam any longer by fussing with barrettes or a ponytail.
As Julia slipped into her sneakers, she wondered what to do next. Sylvie hadn’t returned and Sam waited. She supposed she could go downstairs on her own. As she tentatively descended the grand staircase, she giggled to herself, wondering if it was proper “manor etiquette” to see one’s self about.
Sam stood in the hallway, leaning idly against the banister. His casual dress of blue jeans and white Izod shirt eased her mind about her own outfit.
His welcoming smile reassured her further. “Hello, Julia. Did you have a good rest and did you remember to phone your friend back in the states?”
“Yes, thanks.” She paused on the last step. “Barnabas was kind enough to allow me to use the phone. How about you? Did you hear about the mini-series audition?”
Sam’s face fell, but his voice was gentle. “No, not yet. I expect it any day. I suppose no news is good news. Shall we go?”
“Shouldn’t I say hello to Mrs. McTeel?”
Sam nodded towards the parlor. “She’s in with her physician at the moment. We’ll be back later and you can see her then.” Sam walked to the front door and opened it. “Your tour awaits, Miss Julia.”
Julia had the time of her life. London was a blaze of activity, every store and corner decked out for the upcoming July wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. Excitement buzzed in the air, the Londoners as giddy as the tourists. London seemed to put on it’s best for Julia, the weather holding beautifully with flowers blooming all around. As they walked side by side, Julia listened in captivated awe as Sam narrated London’s history while pointing out historical and famous sites such as the River Thames, the Tower Bridge, London Bridge, London City Hall, Big Ben, the House of Parliament, the London Tube and Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum.
“I’m exhausted,” Julia said several hours later as they stopped to gaze in a souvenir shop. The smiling faces of Prince Charles and Lady Diana peered at Julia from seemingly everywhere. “But happy.”
“Later in the week, we’ll actually tour inside these places,” Sam laughed. “But this afternoon I want to take you to the West End and theater district. I think you’ll enjoy that, and perhaps, be inspired. Afterwards, we’ll grab a bite to eat and then I have a party to attend.” He looked apologetically at her. “Before I left for Germany I promised some friends that I’d make a showing. Do you mind going there?”
Julia shook her head. “You’ve been so nice to me. Of course I’ll go with you…” Her conversation with Mrs. McTeel replayed in her mind. “…unless it’s something you’d rather do on your own…or with someone else.” Like Deirdre.
“No.” Sam looked directly into her eyes and the intensity of his gaze caused a chill of excitement to tingle her senses. “I’d lik
e you to go.”
She smiled, relieved. “Okay.”
“To the West End then?” Sam offered her his hand. “We should hurry...lots to see.”
Julia loved how her small hand fit snuggly inside his warm, larger one. She felt safe and happy. Just walking beside him and talking of nothing in particular left her so content. As far as she was concerned, this was the best day of her life, and the happiest she’d been since her mother’s death.
For the first time in a long time, life made sense. She belonged here, in London, and with Sam.
Chapter Thirteen
Deirdre rang the bell again, this time with more determination. She tapped her low-heeled, black pump and waited.
After a third ring, the door finally opened and Spencer’s wet head peered around the corner. “Deirdre! This is a shocker.”
She had no time for pleasantries. She pushed the door open and let herself in. Spencer backed away, grasping tight to the white towel covering his lower half.
“I was in the shower,” he said. “If you can wait a moment, I’ll go put on some clothes.”
“Fine. Hurry.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, noticing, as he walked away, his strong, muscular shoulders and well-defined waist. Playing tennis all day would do that, she surmised. But she hadn’t come to study Spencer’s physique.
She glanced around his home with an observant eye. She walked past the stairwell, down the corridor to the kitchen, noticing with particular interest the wine glasses and beer mugs on the counter. A quick peek into Spencer’s refrigerator confirmed all she needed to know.
“Ah, there, now.” Spencer returned, pulling a white t-shirt down over a pair of khaki shorts. Deirdre noticed he even combed his hair, and what was that alluring scent? Had he actually put on cologne? Well, she had that affect on men, she supposed. They always sought to impress her.
He reached for a glass. “What brings you about? Need a drink?”
Deirdre placed her small handbag down and leaned seductively against the counter. She traced a piece of stemware with one long, pink-painted nail and smiled coyly. “Spencer, are you having a party tonight?”
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