The Silent Touch of Shadows

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘… to have and to hold, till death do us part …’

  The words from her dream echoed through her mind once more, but she shook her head to free herself from its cloying tentacles. Steve had spoken those vows once, but he hadn’t meant them in real life, any more than in the dream. Or if he had, he’d quickly forgotten.

  No, there was no happy-ever-after for Melissa.

  Chapter Five

  Although servants scurried around putting up trestle tables for the main meal of the day, Roger was happy to see they were out of earshot. What he was about to discuss with the lord of Idenhurst was no one’s business but his own. He preferred to be without an audience.

  They chatted about the weather and the state of the roads at first while they sipped their wine. At the same time, Roger surveyed the hall with curiosity. It was impressive, with a series of windows facing the courtyard and a huge oriel window in the middle of the opposite wall. On either side of this were two enormous fireplaces with carved stone surrounds. They looked newly built and must have replaced the customary open fire in the middle of the room. They struggled to heat the vast chamber, belching puffs of smoke into it from time to time, which made the air heavy. Fresh rushes were being strewn on the floor, and Roger guessed that Lady Presseille ran her household in a well-ordered and cleanly fashion. There were no dogs looking for scraps, so he assumed they’d been banned.

  When the ladies had disappeared, a little of Sir Gilbert’s bonhomie had gone with them. ‘So, you wished to speak to me,’ he said now, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘Yes. It’s with regard to a matter that concerns my late mother, Lady Emma of Langford,’ Roger began, unconsciously lowering his voice a little. He thought he saw a flicker of surprise in the older man’s eyes, but it was quickly masked and he couldn’t be certain.

  Sir Gilbert said only, ‘Oh, yes?’

  Roger tried to see through the polite façade. He needed to judge what manner of man Sir Gilbert might be. His lordship had, at first glance, looked affable enough. Usually skilled at weighing up his opponents, in Sir Gilbert he perceived hidden depths. Judging him proved more difficult than he had anticipated. Roger already knew about the death of Roland Presseille, Sir Gilbert’s only son, because he’d actually been present when it occurred, but he wasn’t about to mention that. Although obviously tired and drawn by grief, the older man appeared calm and collected, with an innate courtesy not always present in a person of his high standing. Roger decided he was probably fair and honest, as Sibell had said.

  ‘I’m a bastard,’ he continued matter-of-factly, ‘and have never felt the lack of a father. However, I have to admit to a certain curiosity as to who my sire might be. My mother assured me that my father was nobly born, but she always refused to tell me his name. On her deathbed, however, she relented and told me to seek you out.’

  The older man’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but he held his tongue.

  Roger went on, ‘She claimed my father was a member of the Presseille family, and said that if you were as honest as she remembered, you would help me to find him.’ He held out his hand and removed a ring from the smallest finger. ‘She said this might help nudge someone’s memory.’

  ‘I see.’ Sir Gilbert’s expression remained calm, but to Roger it seemed almost too carefully neutral. His lordship took the ring and gave it a cursory look before handing it back quickly, as if it burned him, then frowned.

  ‘And have you come to claim recompense of some kind then, or were you simply hoping he would buy your silence?’ Sir Gilbert sounded unaccountably defensive and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

  Roger resented the implied insult. He gritted his teeth to keep his anger contained. ‘I want nothing from my father except perhaps recognition of my existence,’ he growled. ‘Is that so much to ask? I’ve made my own way in life. I have acquired some wealth in the service of noble lords, and will one day inherit my uncle’s manor as he has no children of his own. I’m happy with my lot. But I would very much like to know who fathered me, and why he didn’t marry my mother as he’d promised. Surely, that’s understandable, my lord?’

  Sir Gilbert looked into Roger’s eyes, blue clashing with blue. ‘Didn’t your mother give you a reason why she never married your father?’ he countered.

  Roger hesitated. ‘No, and I can’t understand it. She was of noble birth, and extremely beautiful. I see no reason why she should have been rejected.’ He sighed. ‘She said only that circumstances prevented it. I assume she meant the man was already married. He must have duped her.’

  ‘I see. How old did you say you are?’

  ‘Three-and-twenty.’

  ‘And did your mother never marry anyone else?’

  ‘No. She insisted she couldn’t love anyone except my father, and so she would have none other for a husband. Besides which, everyone knew she was a “fallen woman”.’ Roger’s jaw tightened at the thought of how some people had treated his mother on account of this when to all intents and purposes she’d been lured into someone’s bed under false pretences and left with the consequences. He added, ‘I was proof of that. We lived with my uncle, and he brought me up until I was sent away to board at the age of ten.’

  Sir Gilbert was silent for a long time. Finally he said, ‘I’m sorry, Sir Roger, I don’t think I can help you. Although you have something of the look of a Presseille, you could be the by-blow of any one of my four brothers, who are all dead. It was a long time ago. Can you not be happy with what you have achieved for yourself? These things are often best forgotten and after all, you’ve survived for twenty-three years without a father. You don’t need him now.’

  Sir Roger swallowed hard. He knew Sir Gilbert was holding something back, but wouldn’t force him to speak against his will. His pride forbade it. ‘Very well, so be it. I thank you for your time and apologise for intruding upon you. I shall, as you say, have to be content with what I have.’ He stood up and bowed curtly, before turning to leave.

  ‘Wait! Won’t you stay as our guest for a few days? It’s the least I can do when you have come so far especially to see me.’

  Roger hesitated. Perhaps there were others here who would know more, if only he could make them talk to him. That thought settled the matter. ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

  ‘Excellent. I look forward to seeing you later then.’ Sir Gilbert seemed relieved, although why, Roger wasn’t sure.

  It didn’t matter though. He was here now and he’d make the most of his time at Idenhurst. He bowed again, and left the hall without a backward glance.

  Jake Precy woke in a panic, hopelessly tangled up in his duvet. With a muttered oath he twisted and turned until he’d managed to extricate himself, then flung the clinging material away. He stilled. The silence in Ashleigh Cottage was oppressive, unbroken apart from the hooting of an owl. And the bedroom was hot and airless even though it was only February.

  ‘Christ Almighty!’

  He put up a hand and dragged his fingers through his tangled hair. Images crowded into his mind, flashing by with lightning speed, then all of a sudden they joined into a coherent sequence and he remembered his dream clearly.

  He’d been on a huge horse, riding for what seemed like forever, saddle sore and bone weary. Then he’d met a woman and she had joined him, sitting behind him with her soft hands at his waist. A shadowy figure, he couldn’t remember her features, but he knew by his body’s reaction that he’d found her beautiful. Desirable. Her very nearness had made him forget his aches and pains, and her scent lingered in his nostrils, tantalising him with overtones of lavender.

  ‘Damn it all …’

  Jake gritted his teeth and tried to steer his thoughts in another direction, but his body wouldn’t let him. He sighed. For the first time in forever, he’d felt lust, but only for an imaginary woman. Why couldn’t he feel that way for someone real? Why couldn’t he move on?

  His wife, Karen, was dead and he needed to put the past behind him once and for all.

  The d
reams didn’t seem to be connected to her, though. In fact, he’d had them on and off since they had moved into Ashleigh Cottage, although never quite as vivid as the one tonight. And where before he’d always been alone on the horse, riding without destination or purpose, now his mind had dreamt up a female companion. This disturbed him more than anything else.

  ‘What the hell does it all mean?’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe I need a shrink.’ But he didn’t really want to discuss it with anyone. It’s my problem and I’ll sort it.

  He took a deep breath and tried to forget the dream. Instead, he allowed his mind to return to the subject of Karen. He’d wanted her once with the single-mindedness only those newly in love experience. He’d craved her touch, yearned to make love to her. But in the end, she had killed his feelings stone dead and he hadn’t wanted a relationship with anyone ever again in case they hurt him the same way.

  ‘I would never do that …’ The soft lilt of the dream woman’s voice washed over him, as clear as if she’d been real. Jake blinked and shook his head. He was imagining it. He couldn’t erase her from his memory though, and remembered once more the feel of the woman’s soft curves against his back, the way her husky voice had sent shivers down his spine. Another jolt of desire shot through him.

  ‘No, this is crazy.’ He cursed under his breath. He’d sworn never to involve himself with a woman again, relationships were too painful. When he closed his eyes, Karen’s face returned to taunt him. She had been beautiful too, but her beauty had only been skin-deep.

  ‘You’re so boring, Jake! I don’t know why I had to go and marry a country vet. Honestly, all you ever do is work. No excitement, just work, work, work.’ The sneering tone and hard eyes were etched into his memory.

  Karen had never been a good mother either, and had refused point blank to have any more children. Jake strongly suspected their daughter had been a mistake on Karen’s part, but he could never regret having her. She was his life now.

  Karen’s remarks during their last evening together had destroyed any love Jake had ever felt for her, and he’d wished her good riddance. Perhaps that was why she had driven off at such speed, without paying attention properly. Maybe it was why she had lost control of the car and spun into a tree? He’d never know now and there was no point thinking about it.

  Jake straightened his duvet and lay down with one arm flung across his eyes. Almost immediately, the faint scent of lavender returned to tease his senses and his body reacted as if the dream woman was right there in bed with him. He swallowed hard. It was definitely time to move on. Time to forget. They can’t all be like Karen. I’ll just have to be more careful in my choice of partner, he thought.

  He was so tired of being alone.

  ‘Come, sit by me and tell me all that’s been happening in my absence.’ Maude had just returned from a pilgrimage to Canterbury Cathedral to pray for her dead son’s soul. Sibell wished she could have gone with her, but there had been no point in even asking. Her father would never have given his permission. Maude patted a cushion on the comfortable window seat next to her, and Sibell obliged willingly. ‘Spare me nothing, I beg you, there’s no need to pretend with me,’ Maude added.

  They were ensconced in Idenhurst’s beautiful solar, warmed from within by a goblet each of mulled wine, and heated on the outside by two sturdy braziers. Sunshine poured in through the unusually large glass window, which gave plenty of light for sewing or reading. The room was further made comfortable by a multitude of brightly coloured cushions and tapestries. Most of these had been made by the ladies of the household, and the latest work in progress was spread out on a large table nearby. It was a room to relax in, and Sibell allowed herself to do so for the first time in months.

  ‘I’m afraid things are not going well.’ After glancing around to make sure there was no one to overhear their conversation, she proceeded to pour her troubles into Maude’s sympathetic ears. ‘Since I last saw you, my father has kept me closely guarded. Indeed, for the past three days I’ve been locked in my chamber with hardly any food.’ Sibell swallowed hard. ‘That was after he beat me.’ She looked up at the older woman, tears of despair hovering on her lashes. ‘He-he means to m-marry me to Sir Fulke of Thornby. The man is old enough to be my grandfather, and known to have abused at least three wives into an early grave.’ Sibell shuddered in distaste before exclaiming, ‘I simply couldn’t bear it. I’d rather die.’

  Maude patted her arm. ‘It is as I thought, he will sell you off to the highest bidder in order to increase his own status.’ She tut-tutted. ‘Sir Fulke is indeed a bad choice, but I suppose your father was swayed by the man’s connections and wealth. I’ve heard that he is very powerful.’ She shook her head. ‘Life is most unfair, especially for us women. To an uncaring father, a girl child is but a chattel to be sold into marriage or made use of in any way he sees fit.’ Maude sighed. ‘I had hoped he would make a better choice for you.’

  ‘I almost agreed to the marriage,’ Sibell confessed. ‘Being confined in such a tiny space for so long was simply unbearable. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, and I was afraid he would keep me there until he had my agreement.’ She swallowed a sob and bit her lip. ‘He refuses to listen to me. He says that my views are not important, that I will become used to Sir Fulke. And once I have given him an heir he won’t touch me anyway because I’m so tall and freckle-faced. But I don’t want him to touch me at all. Ever!’

  ‘No, I can most certainly understand that, my dear.’ Maude gave Sibell another reassuring pat. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll try to think of something. You know I’ll help you in any way I can.’

  ‘You will? Oh, thank you! I’m so glad we had this opportunity to talk. Now that I know I’m not alone, I won’t let Father win. I will find a way to defy him.’ She would do whatever was necessary. ‘Thank the good Lord your summons came today. Nothing else would have induced Father to release me until he had my agreement.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear, I had no idea things were that bad. We should have insisted on you staying here after … when we heard the news about Roland. Gilbert and I both thought you’d be happier with your own family, rather than in a place which reminded you of your marriage, but I see now we were wrong.’

  ‘I’m sure you did what you thought was best.’ Sibell didn’t want to admit that she’d longed for Sir Gilbert to insist she stay at Idenhurst until a new husband was found for her. At least then her father would have had more trouble browbeating her into submission, even if he did have the right to wed her to anyone he chose.

  ‘Well, it’s not too late. Why don’t I invite you now?’

  ‘No, please don’t! Father will know I’ve spoken to you on the matter and then he’ll find a way to punish me. He’s forbidden me from mentioning it to anyone.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Lady Maude stared out of the window, deep in thought. ‘Do you know, I believe your best course would be to go along with it for now, just to appease him,’ she mused. ‘While he’s busy with contracts and such like, we can think of a better solution.’

  ‘You truly think so?’

  Maude nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I don’t know … If only I’d had a child, then I would have had to stay here, surely?’ Her inability to conceive had been a great worry to Sibell during her marriage, but they had only been married a few months when Roland took it into his head to go off and fight. Maude had assured her these things often took time, but since Roland never returned, Sibell hadn’t found out whether she was right.

  ‘Perhaps. Knowing your father, I’m not so sure.’ Maude squeezed Sibell’s hands in sympathy, then abruptly changed the subject. ‘Now tell me, wherever did you meet that handsome young man you arrived with? It’s very strange, but I’m sure I have seen him before.’ She shook her head. ‘At any rate, he seemed rather smitten with you.’

  ‘No, no, it was all friendly banter. He meant nothing by it.’ Sibell felt her cheeks heat up in a fiery blush, and began to stammer more denials, then stopped a
s she saw the teasing smile on Maude’s lips. ‘Now, Maude, you know a man like that would never be interested in a red-headed beanpole like me,’ she said sternly. ‘You’ll have to think of something better.’

  Maude’s eyes twinkled. ‘We’ll just see about that.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘Pleeeeease, Mum! I hate it here and I don’t want to keep moving all the time. The flat we looked at yesterday smelled gross.’

  Melissa sighed and dug her knuckles into the side of her throbbing head in an effort to ease the pain. ‘Jolie, are you sure you’re not just saying that because you want a dog? You’ll get tired of taking it for walks in no time, you know, and then where will you be? At a new school that might not be any better than the one you’re in already.’

  ‘Yes, it will. Anything would be better than this one. The kids here are a bunch of wankers.’

  ‘Jolie!’

  Jolie’s expression turned mulish. ‘Well, they are.’

  ‘Maybe so.’ Melissa didn’t have the energy to argue about her daughter’s use of inappropriate words just then. ‘But why had you never told me before we went to Ashleigh that you hate your school?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Jolie shoved her hands into her pockets and refused to look at her mother.

  ‘Come on, there must be a reason.’ Melissa lifted Jolie’s chin gently so she could see her expression. ‘Tell me. Has someone been bullying you and saying it would get worse if you told on them?’

  Jolie shook her head.

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Well, I do get bullied sometimes, but it doesn’t matter ’cos I don’t like the other kids anyway. I hate the teacher, though, she’s always picking on me. Nothing I do is ever right.’

  Melissa could well believe it. Mrs Olsen was not a very sympathetic woman and Melissa had often wondered what had made such a person want to be a teacher. She nodded slowly. ‘I know what you mean. Perhaps we could get you moved to the other class, would that help?’