by Liz Fielding
Holly made a small sound, somewhere between a purr and a moan, and pressed her hips wantonly against Joshua as she felt the urgent stirring of his passion.
He drew back with a sharp exclamation and searched her face, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded with arousal. ‘If you want me to go, Holly,’ he warned, the grating texture of his voice a further torment, ‘you had better stop doing that right now.’ She smiled lazily back at him, her cheeks flushed, her large amber eyes almost black. ‘Do you still want to spend the day on Dartmoor?’ she challenged, her voice low and husky. And that was her third mistake.
Joshua Kent said something quite rude on the subject of Dartmoor. Then he bent and caught her behind the knees, swinging her up into his arms to carry her swiftly up the stairs.
She knew she should protest, make some show of resistance, but she was beyond caring what might happen afterwards. She wanted this arrogant, unbearable, dominating man, who had appeared uninvited upon her doorstep and turned her life upside down.
He shouldered open the bedroom door and then placed her very gently on the bed. For a moment, he held her there, caged by hands on either side of her body, barely touching her, but even a foot apart the heat of his body was searing her to a flaming desire that only he could quench.
Then he lifted one hand and trailed his fingers across her burning lips. ‘You’re beautiful, Holly.’
‘If I am, Joshua, it’s because you’ve made me feel beautiful.’ His mouth touched her lips so briefly that she felt instantly bereft, then her complaint became a sigh as it began a slow and sensuous exploration of the delicate skin under her chin, along the curve of her throat, trailing the firebrand of his tongue down to the edge of her T-shirt.
‘Don’t stop,’ she moaned and moved to throw it off. Get rid of all her clothes. But he caught her hand.
‘I’ll undress you in my own good time,’ he said and she lay back against the pillows. ‘Don’t take too long.’ The words shocked her. She had never been like this, had been teased for her reserve, sworn at on one unpleasant occasion before she had learned to quell expectations before they got out of hand. But love had woken some new, wilder side to her nature.
For a moment Joshua was very still. Holding back with some last vestige of self-control. ‘Holly,’ he said, his voice ragged with the effort, ‘if you have any doubts, say now. If I take you, I keep you. Forever.’ She opened her eyes fully and looked at him, the clamped-down jaw as he waited for her to be certain, his grey eyes shimmering with passion.
Doubts? What doubts could there be? Even on that first day when they had glared at one another across the shabby sitting-room at home she had known they were fencing on a razor-edge. He had jarred against her, stirring the slumbering passion that was thundering through her veins, setting up a raw, sexual tension, and deep inside she had recognised the danger. Now, when she had fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love with the man there could be no doubts. She didn’t care about the future, she wanted this moment with him. And he was right; she would hold it in her heart forever.
She laughed softly, catching at the hem of his shirt and easing it up his back, her fingers doing a little teasing on her own account as they strayed across his chest and down the flat, hard stomach. Her lips parted in delight as he drew in a sharp breath, rejoicing that she had the power to render him momentarily speechless.
‘Does that answer your question, Joshua? Now, how much longer are you going to keep a lady waiting?’ She flipped open the button of his shorts.
‘Dear God,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t…’ But what she mustn’t do was never voiced as the doorbell rang, shattering the bubble of the private world into which they had retreated. They both froze.
‘Would David come back?’ Joshua asked her after the first stunned silence. Holly shook her head, the crazy enchantment already evaporating with the loud intrusion of the outside world. Joshua began to roll from the bed, already tucking the soft polo shirt back into his shorts.
‘Ignore it,’ she pleaded, catching at his hands. ‘Whoever it is will go away.’
‘With my car parked on the front doorstep?’ He shook his head. ‘At least David had the sense to drive round the back.’
‘We could be on the beach. Anywhere.’ But the point became academic as they heard the sound of the door opening and a voice calling out, ‘Is anyone home?’
He muttered an expletive, stepped back and drew a deep breath, running his hands through his hair in an effort to tidy it. ‘It’s Mrs Austin. She worked for Mary and she’s been coming in a couple of days a week while the house has been empty. I phoned her yesterday and said she should come and see you. I might have known she wouldn’t wait until Monday. She’s a terrible old gossip, Holly, and she’ll expect every detail of your life history before she leaves.’
‘I haven’t got a life history,’ Holly said scratchily. And at this rate she never would have. She got unsteadily to her feet and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She winced. ‘Joshua, I can’t. Look at me.’
For a moment he did just that. Then he wrenched himself back into the real world and whisked her silently into the bathroom. He wrung out a cold flannel and held it to her cheeks.
‘Hello? Miss Carpenter?’ Joshua’s eyes warned her to be silent and they stayed perfectly still while the footsteps began to climb the stairs. Then the steps stopped and retreated and after a moment they heard her on the path outside.
‘She’s gone into the garden to look for us.’ He held her for a moment, steadying her, handing her a hairbrush.
‘Just think of something else, sweetheart. Something nasty.’ He groaned softly and pushed her away. ‘Go. You’ll be fine. Make her a cup of tea. I’ll be down in a moment to rescue you.’ He caught her by the shoulders and dropped a brief kiss on her mouth. ‘Don’t worry. She doesn’t bite. She only looks as if she might.’
Her legs were a little wobbly as she made her way back down the stairs, still certain that the world and its wife would know exactly what she had been doing on this sunny Saturday morning.
‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Mrs Austin?’ Holly moved quickly towards the woman coming in through the garden door, looking about her uncertainly. They had met briefly at Mary’s funeral, but Holly had been wearing a prim suit with a black velvet hat covering her hair.
Now Mrs Austin audibly drew breath.
‘Miss Carpenter.’ She couldn’t take her eyes off her hair.
‘Won’t you come in? Mr Kent told me you would probably call today.’
‘Well, dear, I hope it isn’t inconvenient, but I thought I’d better come and see what hours you wanted. If you want me to work for you at all, that is.’ She looked up the stairs and Holly could almost hear the wheels of her mind working. ‘Is that Mr Joshua’s car outside?’ ‘Yes, he’s…’ Holly forced a smile. ‘Would you like some tea, Mrs Austin? A sandwich perhaps? It must be very near lunchtime.’ She glanced at her watch. It was not quite ten-thirty and Mrs Austin looked at her a little oddly. ‘I got up very early.’
‘Well, a cup of tea would be welcome, but nothing to eat. I can’t stay long.’ She threw a glance back over her shoulder at the stairs as she allowed herself to be shepherded into the sitting-room.
Holly took another deep, steadying breath as she filled the kettle, wondering what on earth Joshua was up to.
Surely he didn’t intend to hide upstairs? That would really give the woman something to think about. Perhaps he expected her to make some excuse. She tried to clear the cotton wool from her mind and think of something. A blocked sink, perhaps? No, Mrs Austin looked the sort of woman to roll up her sleeves and go and deal with that sort of problem herself, given half a chance.
With hands still shaking, she laid a tray with three of the best cups, filled the delicate milk jug and put out the sugar basin. She poured the boiling water into the teapot and then found some chocolate biscuits. There was still no sign of Joshua when she carried it into the sitting-room and set it down on the low table before the sofa.
‘Well, here we are,’ she said, smiling with a confidence she was far from feeling, and covered the ensuing moments with a flurry of polite queries regarding milk and sugar, holding off the question she sensed Mrs Austin was dying to ask.
Finally there was nothing more to do and she raised her cup to her lips just as Mrs Austin began, ‘Is Mr Joshua going to join–?’
‘Mrs Austin! How good of you to come.’ Holly’s cup rattled in her saucer as she raised her eyes and saw Joshua, dark hair dusted with cobwebs, his arms full of photograph albums. ‘I promised Miss Carpenter I would go up into the loft for her this morning,’ he said confidentially, sinking down beside the older woman on the sofa. ‘I knew there must be a lot of old photographs somewhere and she’s a bit like Mary: scared of spiders.’ His eyes glinted softly at Holly as he took the cup she offered. ‘Isn’t that right?’
‘I’m afraid so. Witless.’
Mrs Austin tutted. ‘If you want anything down from the loft, Miss Carpenter, you just ask me. No need to go bothering a busy man like Mr Joshua.’
‘Please call me Holly.’
‘Holly. What a pretty name. Of course, you were a Christmas baby.’
‘Christmas Eve,’ Holly confirmed.
Joshua drank his tea and stood up. I’d better go and leave you two to sort out your business. Unless I can do anything else for you, Holly?’ His brazen look from behind Mrs Austin’s back was blush-making, but Holly managed somehow to keep a straight face.
‘Not right now, Joshua. But could you drop by this evening? I have one or two things you really ought to see,’ she said, and placed her cup on the tray without a sound. ‘If you can spare the time, that is? Mrs Austin tells me that you are a very busy man. I’d hate to take advantage of your…’ she paused and managed a slow smile. ‘…good nature.’
It was his turn to struggle. ‘I think I can manage that. About seven?’
‘Perhaps I can offer you dinner. A small thank-you for all your kindness.’
‘Well, that’s very thoughtful,’ he said quite briskly. ‘But there’ll be quite a lot to get through. Better leave dinner until later.’
‘Shall I show you out?’
‘I know the way.’ He mouthed a silent kiss from the doorway and retreated before her detached manner disintegrated entirely.
Mrs Austin had settled herself on the sofa and made herself at home. ‘It’s a while since I saw these old albums.’ She produced a cloth from her pocket and wiped the dust off the top one and opened it. ‘Well, now, will you look at that. It’s Mr and Mrs Graham and Miss Mary when she couldn’t have been more than ten years old.’
Holly joined the woman on the sofa. Her grandfather had a stern expression, his wife looked serene and Mary…
Mary looked exactly as she had at the same age. A little bit too thin, her fair hair bleached white by the sun.
‘There’s one of your mother in here somewhere. She came to stay with Mary after, well, you know all this.’
She didn’t but let it go and Mrs Austin continued to turn the pages, chattering on, full of gossip.
There was a picture of her grandfather looking very important in a red robe and chain of office. ‘That was the year Miss Mary’s father was mayor,’ Mrs Austin explained.
‘What was he like?’
Mrs Austin hesitated. ‘A bit stiff. Miss Mary found it hard, I think, especially after her mother left.’
‘Left?’
The other woman’s eyes gleamed briefly with the excitement of a new audience for old news. ‘She left him for another man. Caused a high old scandal. It was hard for Miss Mary and she was kept on a pretty tight rein growing up, I can tell you.’ She shook her head. ‘A mistake, that. Even when she insisted she must go and look after your poor mother when she was expecting you he carried on so that I thought that the heaven would fall in. In the end he saw how set she was — and your mother had been so kind when her mother left that I think she would have gone anyway.’ She sighed. ‘I thought that when he died it would be different, but she must have been thirty by then and I suppose she’d got into the habit of being alone. Not that she was ever lonely, of course. She was always busy.
‘You’ve worked for the family a long time?’
‘Mrs Graham took me on when she was first married. I’d just left school. Then they took on Austin for the garden and to drive and me and him hit it off. We lived in the cottage then. Miss Mary left it to me, you know.’
‘Yes, I know.’
Mrs Austin turned another page. ‘Oh, now this is Mr Joshua’s father. He and Mr Graham were both magistrates.’ She looked up from the picture. ‘You and Miss Mary could have been twins if you’d been the same age.’
It was the sort of photograph taken by the hundred at major functions. It was a dinner. Mr Graham was clearly making an effort to look happy. Mr Kent, perhaps twenty years younger than she had seen him in France a few days before, his hair thicker, slightly darker, looked totally at ease, smiling across at Mary. And Mrs Austin had been right. The likeness was too striking to miss. She touched her hair. Maybe she ought to darken it a little.
‘Were the two families friendly?’ she asked, to redirect Mrs Austin’s attention.
‘I don’t know about friends.’ She shrugged. ‘In the last couple of years Mr Joshua has been a great help to your cousin, but I don’t think Mr Alexander Kent ever was much of a friend to Mr Graham. They were very different sorts of men. He came to the house, of course. They had town business.’
‘Alexander? Is that his name?’ Her voice sounded the same. But nothing would ever be quite the same again.
She laid the tip of her finger on the photograph of Joshua’s father and remembered a half-imagined tear as he had turned away from her. Had he suspected?
‘Yes. He’s living in France now. A very good-looking man, like Mr Joshua.’ She nodded in the direction of the door and raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘Mrs Kent was a very forbearing lady.’
‘Alexander?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, dear.’
‘You’re sure?’ Mrs Austin glanced at her a little oddly and Holly let it go. Of course she was sure. The woman went on and on, turning the pages of the album, chattering on, full of small-town gossip, but Holly had stopped listening. She responded automatically when there was a gap in the monologue that seemed to demand it, but she had no idea what was actually being said.
Eventually Holly’s silence must have seeped through. ‘Well, I mustn’t stay here taking up all your day. I’ll see you on Monday, Miss Carpenter.’
‘What?’
‘Monday. I’ve got a key. If you’re not here I’ll just get on.’ There was a seemingly endless list of instructions about what to do with laundry and shopping lists but finally she left and Holly found herself standing on the back doorstep watching the woman wobble down the drive on her bicycle.
After a while she made herself close the door. Her limbs still worked, but there was a numbness in her head. Not even a pain. Nothing. She knew she should be grateful. As she climbed up the stairs, each step a mountain to be overcome by sheer willpower, she knew without doubt that the pain would come.
She opened the bedside drawer, where the Chinese notebook lay. She knew the words by heart. Read it constantly to comfort herself that Mary had borne her out of a deep and lasting love. It had been no quick fumble, regretted and furtively dealt with. Now the comfort turned to ash in her heart.
She picked up the book, but she had no need to open the cover to read that first damning sentence. ‘“A came to the house today and made me a woman.”‘ She had scarcely wondered who the mysterious ‘A’ might be, too wrapped up in her concerns about Mary. It had been stupid. She had had a father as well as a mother, but she had thought that the unknown man did not matter, that he was unimportant. She opened the book. But there was no mistake.
“A came to the house today and made me a woman. I knew he would come.
“After that kiss, that glorious, wonderful kiss, I knew
he had to come. But he was so clever, so cool! ‘Is your father at home?’ he asked, nothing in his eyes to show that he knew father was at a committee meeting that was going to last forever. He went on endlessly about it last night at the dinner, until I thought he would drive us all mad with boredom. Now I can only hope that he will always announce his plans with such glorious forethought.”
The bed was rumpled where their bodies had lain an hour before. Had it looked like that when Mary had lain with Alexander Kent? Holly wondered, and a cold, clammy hand clutched at her heart as she realised the horror of what had so nearly happened.
She straightened the quilt with shaking fingers, obliterating the evidence but it wasn’t enough and in a second she was tearing at the bedclothes, taking off the sheets, the cover, the pillowcase and pushing them out of sight into the bathroom. Then she stood for a moment, her chest hurting with the effort of breathing, and in the silence she thought she could hear the sound of her heart breaking.
It was a while before she could think straight. She found some linen in the airing cupboard and remade the bed.
Packed her bag. Tidied everything carefully so that no one would ever know she had been at Highfield. Then, when she had rehearsed what she would say, she went to the telephone to call Joshua. The phone rang twice and then was picked up.
‘Joshua —’ She started to speak, then realised with a sickening jolt that there was no one there.
‘This is Joshua Kent,’ the recording announced. ‘I’m not available at the moment, but leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.’ There was a short tone and then the tape began to run. A sob caught her voice and she put the phone down quickly. It was a long time before she could speak again and she didn’t try the telephone.