Desire For Revenge

‘Mmm…the old story of the male ego. Well, there is one simple solution.’

‘Rid myself of said virginity,’ Sarah said lightly. ‘That had already occurred to me but it’s not quite as easy as that, is it? After all, I can hardly go up to the first passably attractive male I see and say “would you mind making love to me?”, can I?’

‘No,’ Jane laughed, agreeing with her. ‘Is he married?’ she asked.

‘Very much so. I feel dreadfully sorry for his poor wife. He really is a loathsome specimen. The sort that makes your flesh creep. Oh, he’s attractive enough I suppose in his way…but there’s just something about him…’

‘Mmm. I know what you mean, and I can understand your dilemma. Want me to look round for a suitable specimen of manhood for you?’ she teased, bringing a lighter note to their conversation as Sarah grinned and replied threateningly, ‘Just you try!’

They went on to talk about their grandmother, who Jane told her had settled in extremely well at the home.

‘I thought we might go and see her tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got to go into town to collect our costumes.’ She made a wry face. ‘I’m dreading this damned ball. It’s the local social event of the year, you realise and we’re extremely privileged to be invited.’

‘I can tell that by your excitement,’ Sarah responded solemnly, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘What are we going as?’

Jane smiled at her. ‘Wait until you see our costumes. The do’s being held at Merton Place, and since it was built at the height of the Georgian era, I’ve gone for very traditional Georgian outfits for all three of us. I had to go to Stratford to get them, I’ll have you know—nowhere in Gloucester stocked anything that would do. They’re theatrical costumes and very, very ornate. They’re being sent by express delivery to the local station tonight, that’s why we’ve got to go to town to pick them up tomorrow.’

‘I can’t wait to see Ralph dressed up as a Georgian dandy…’ Sarah commented.

Jane gave a wicked giggle. ‘I’m going to make him powder his hair but he doesn’t know it yet! If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re being invited by one of Ralph’s most important clients, I might be looking forward to it a little bit more.’

‘You’ll enjoy it when we’re there,’ Sarah consoled her sister and then, changing the subject, invited, ‘Now tell me about my niece and nephews…

‘Come on, Auntie Sarah, wake up…’

Stubby fingers touched her eyelids, giggles erupting somewhere in the direction of her left ear. Someone was trying to tickle her ribs, and entering into the spirit of the game, she pretended she was still asleep, waiting until her three tormentors had given up trying to wake her before suddenly sitting up and grasping the nearest cuddly bundle and subjecting its ribs to the same torment so recently inflicted on her own.

The bundle in question just happened to be her niece, her helpless giggles and shrieks almost splitting Sarah’s ears. The two boys, of course, had to join in the game, the three children only subdued when Jane marched into the bedroom carrying a mug of tea which she placed beside Sarah, at the same time, sternly telling her trio of offspring to take themselves off to their own rooms and get dressed.

‘Little horrors,’ she commented balefully when the triplets had finally departed, but Sarah wasn’t deceived.

‘And don’t you just love them,’ she agreed with a grin.

‘Does it show that much? I suppose having had to wait so long for them…I must admit I’d just about given up hope.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Still there are some days when I do genuinely wonder why I ever bothered, and Louise is worse than the two boys put together. She can twist them and her father round her little finger.’

She sat down on the edge of Sarah’s bed and said. ‘What do you fancy doing this morning? I’ve done all the food shopping. The Vicar’s wife is going to take charge of the kids tonight. Ralph will look after them while we’re out this afternoon.’

‘Well, since I’m feeling rather lazy this morning, how about my taking my niece and nephews for a short walk?’

‘Great idea, if you’re sure you don’t mind,’ Jane enthused. ‘It will give me time to whip round with the vacuum before lunch. But be warned, don’t let them persuade you to take them into the village, or you’ll end up in the post office buying them sweets.

‘Oh, by the way, Haughton House has been sold,’ she added idly. ‘I’m not sure who to…but I thought you’d like to know. You’ve always had a thing about the old place, haven’t you?’

It was true, Sarah reflected half an hour later as she set off with a nephew firmly attached to either hand and her niece clinging firmly to the hand of one of her brothers. She had always been drawn to the beautiful Elizabethan manor house just outside the village.

It had been empty now for several months since the death of the last owner, and Sarah turned automatically in the direction of the footpath that led from the river, through a small wood, and then into the private grounds that went with the house.

At the boundary wall which separated the public footpath from the private, Sarah paused. The trees were not yet in full leaf and so she was able to see the house from where she stood. The sharp March sunlight turned the ancient brickwork to rose-gold, glinting here and there on mullioned windows. Apart from a couple of what appeared to be tradesmen’s vans parked outside, there were no signs of activity.

Sighing faintly she responded to Jeremy’s impatient tug on her left hand, and knew that as she obediently turned away from the house and back in the direction from which they had come that she had just said goodbye to a childhood dream.

As a teenager she had often come to this spot. There was a venerable oak tree several yards away, conveniently growing just by the boundary wall and in earlier years she had often hidden in its leafy branches simply daydreaming away a lazy summer’s afternoon, imagining that she owned the house… In those far off days she had played many roles as chatelaine of the house; sometimes an Elizabethan maid of honour, hidden away down here from the Queen’s wrath because she had caught the eye of one of her handsome courtiers; sometimes a secret Jacobite supporter, recklessly hiding one of the doomed Prince Charlie’s wounded supporters; sometimes a be-muslined Regency girl waiting in trepidation to hand over her childhood home to the distant cousin who had inherited it from her father—whatever the setting for her daydreams might have been, they had always had the same conclusion; the male playing opposite her leading role as chatelaine inevitably fell in love with her and they lived happily ever after with the house as their home.

Sarah grimaced faintly. How long ago those days seemed now.

‘Look, Auntie Sarah!’ Paul tugged importantly on her right hand, speaking in a hushed whisper. ‘There’s a rabbit.’

Sure enough he was right, and all four of them paused for a second to admire the attractive little creature before he caught their scent and bolted for cover.

CHAPTER TWO

‘OKAY, are we ready?’

‘As we’re ever likely to be,’ Sarah told her sister affectionately, as they hurried out to Jane’s small Metro.

Her sister was a competent driver, and it didn’t take them long to reach the nearby market town Jane used for most of her day-to-day shopping

‘We’ll go to the station first to collect the outfits and then get everything else.’

She parked neatly in the small station car park and Sarah went with her towards the tiny redbrick building.

The stationmaster greeted them with a smile, handing over the bulky parcels.

‘Them’ll be for that ball everyone’s going to tonight,’ he commented knowingly as Sarah took charge of them. ‘A fine do it’ll be, by all accounts. They say that the new owner of Haughton House will be there as well. A fine lot of work he’s having done up at the place…there’s a new swimming pool being put in—indoors, too—that’ll cost him a fair penny.’

‘Don’t ever have any skeletons in your cupboard if you intend living in the country,’ Jane groaned as she and Sarah stacked the boxes in the back of her car.

‘What else do you need?’ Sarah asked her as she tugged on her seat-belt.

‘Nothing much, some nice biscuits for Mrs Arbuckle—I daredn’t buy any before, the kids would have sneaked the lot. Some flowers for the house. I always like to have fresh ones for Sunday lunch.’

‘Really?’ Sarah kept her face straight as she teased. ‘That’s odd…I always thought Ralph was quite definitely a meat and two veg man!’

‘Oh, for goodness sake you’re as bad as the kids,’ Jane complained but she was grinning, too, as they drove out of the car park.

As it was Saturday a small market was in progress and although they had some problems in parking, once they had done so, it didn’t take them long to buy the bits and pieces Jane wanted.

‘Fancy a cup of coffee before we go back?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve just about got time, and there’s a rather nice new place that specialises in traditional afternoon teas.’

‘Sounds good.’

The café was situated just off the small town square and had been attractively decorated in soft peach and grey. The cane chairs were painted white with peach seat covers, and despite the obvious bustle they were lucky enough to find an empty table, in the window.

‘Mmm…this is nice,’ Jane murmured as she sat down. ‘I daren’t come in here with the brats, they’d cause too much chaos.’

They gave their order to a smiling waitress, and while Jane deliberated over a cream cake or a scone with jam and cream, complaining about the calorie intake of both, Sarah looked out of the window on to the busy street and the square.

A man walked across the road and into the square, his face in profile to her, his thick, black hair ruffled by the cool breeze. His skin looked tanned, his body tall and lean, with just a hint of breadth about the shoulders. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as he turned to check the traffic and she saw the intense sapphire blue of his eyes. As she looked she could almost see him as her Elizabethan gallant; her romantic Jacobite rebel; her reckless Regency rake. She blinked and swallowed hard and both the man and her inner visions of him were gone.

‘Sarah, are you all right?’

She forced a shaky smile and nodded her head. ‘Sorry, I was miles away…’

‘Daydreaming,’ Jane agreed wryly. ‘I recognised all the signs, although to judge from the rapt expression on your face, it was a very special daydream. You’re not holding out on me by any chance, are you?’ she questioned severely. ‘There isn’t someone in your life I don’t know anything about, is there?’

‘Don’t be silly. What on earth gave you that idea?’

‘The look on your face,’ Jane told her bluntly. ‘You were looking as though Robert Redford had suddenly materialised in front of you.’

In spite of herself Sarah coloured faintly. The romantic daydreams of her teenage years were something she had long ago put behind her, and it was embarrassing to have them called to mind so strongly by the chance sighting of a strange man. She hadn’t even seen him full face…but there had been something about him…quivers of sensation fluttered deep inside her, quickly banished when she realised the complete folly of the direction her thoughts were taking. It was both impossible and ridiculous to be so attracted to a man on mere sight.

‘Come on, we’d better make a move,’ Jane told her, consulting her watch again. ‘I want the holy terrors bathed and in bed before Mrs Arbuckle arrives. Thank goodness Ralph has managed to install a separate bathroom for the guest room and for the nursery now, otherwise, we’d be queuing up for the same one from now until doomsday.’

‘Read me another story, Auntie Sarah…’ Sarah was in Louise’s room, sitting beside the four-year-old’s pretty Laura Ashley decorated bed.

‘You’ve had two already,’ she reminded her niece, hiding an appreciative grin at this bid to delay the moment of going to sleep a little further…

‘Well then will you tell me another one tomorrow?’

‘I tell you what, tomorrow night I’ll tell you all about the ball.’ Sarah offered.

Louise’s eyes widened. ‘Will there be princes there and princesses?’ She was very much into fairy stories and Sarah repressed a small sigh for the vast gulf that lay between romance and reality.

She stood up and bent over the small figure of her niece to tuck the covers more securely around her, bending down to kiss her good night.

Ralph was reading to the boys, while Jane had her bath, and Mrs Arbuckle, the vicar’s wife, was due in half an hour.

Checking that the night light was lit, Sarah let herself out of the room.

In her own room the dress she had unpacked and pressed on their return from town hung on the bathroom door. It was a gloriously rich Georgian costume in the most beautiful eau de nil silk, which opened over an underskirt of white satin embroidered with a complex design of silver flowers and leaves. At intervals the hem of the overskirt was caught up with white silk bows to reveal the satin underdress and the low neckline of the dress had a small pleated frill of white satin. The same fabric lined the sleeves from the elbows down, where they were caught up with ribbons. Sarah had no doubt that the dress was an exact replica of an original Georgian ballgown, and it was so supremely lovely that she felt she hardly dared to wear it.

In addition to the shoes provided to match the outfit there was a box containing combs and flowers attached to them for her hair, and several small patches with a brief handwritten note explaining where each one was to go and the precise meaning appertaining to each placement. Sarah raised her eyes a little over this, having had no idea that these adornments possessed their own special language. To complete the outfit there was even a fan in the same eau de nil silk as her gown.

Luckily her hair was long and naturally curly enough for her to pin it up in a small circlet of ringlets, which she coaxed to form by using her heated tongs. The effect, once she had pinned the flower combs in place, was surprisingly effective.

She took her time over her make-up, remembering that the fashion in the Georgian era was for pale skin, and having placed a small round patch just beneath her eye she sat back to study the whole effect. Even without powdering her hair it was surprising how different she looked. She and Jane had discussed doing this but had decided against it because of the mess involved.

She was just slipping her dress on when Jane came in. Her sister’s eyebrows lifted in silent appreciation.

‘Wow,’ she exclaimed at last. ‘You look fantastic. Turn round, I’ll help you with the zip.’

‘It doesn’t have one,’ Sarah pointed out wryly. ‘Just one hundred million hooks and eyes.’

‘An authentic touch we could well do without,’ Jane grumbled as she fastened each of the tiny fastenings. ‘There,’ she exclaimed at last, ‘now turn round.’

Sarah stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was unbelievable what a difference her costume made. She could have stepped out of a portrait of some Georgian lady.

‘It’s stunning,’ Jane told her quietly. ‘Absolutely stunning…’

Smiling, Sarah dropped her a brief curtsey, and unfurled her fan, looking demurely at her sister over the top of it. ‘Merci, My Lady,’ she cooed dulcetly. ‘You are too kind.’

Jane raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Okay, you can cut that out,’ she instructed. ‘Heavens, I’d better fly and get ready myself. I just came in to tell you that Mrs Arbuckle has arrived. Ralph is ready and downstairs entertaining her.’

‘I’ll come and give you a hand with your dress then, shall I?’ Sarah offered.

Her sister’s dress was a rich cobalt blue with gold embroidery, but slightly plainer than her own, and since her own hair was short, Jane had elected to wear with her outfit a period wig which she had also hired from the stage company.

Ralph’s stare of amazement when they both went downstairs proved just how much their costumes transformed them. Mrs Arbuckle told them half enviously that they looked wonderful and although Ralph complained that the wig he was wearing was making him itch, Sarah suspected that her brother-in-law was enjoying the opportunity to dress up as much as they were themselves.

Because of the volume of the women’s dresses Ralph had decided that they might as well push the boat out in style and had organised a chauffeur-driven limousine to take them to the ball.

‘Much better than a coach and four,’ Jane exclaimed appreciatively as she sank down into the comfortable leather seat. ‘What do you think, Sarah?’

Sarah agreed that Ralph had shown good sense because between the two of them they took up the entire length of the huge back seat leaving Ralph to sit in front with the driver.

Their destination, the Georgian house where the ball was being held, was only on the other side of the village—a fifteen-minute drive at most.

For the occasion the driveway was illuminated with Japanese flares in soft pastel colours, the front of the house ablaze with lights. Several other cars were disgorging their passengers when they drew up, most of them garbed in Georgian costume.

A liveried flunkey standing by the main door requested their tickets and then ushered them inside, where another liveried attendant indicated the direction of the cloakrooms.

‘The ballroom’s on the second floor,’ Jane hissed to her sister as they followed several other women in the direction of the ladies’ cloakroom.

Having checked that her wig wasn’t in any danger of disgracing her, Jane suggested that they go upstairs.

Outside the doors to the ballroom Ralph was waiting for them, talking to another couple. His male companion was rather portly, and looked flushed beneath his heavy wig. He greeted Jane with a brief kiss on the cheek as did the woman with him.

‘And this is Sarah, my sister-in-law,’ Ralph introduced her. ‘Tom and Veronica Merryweather… Veronica was partially responsible for organising this affair tonight.’

Veronica Merryweather was small and plump, wearing a gown that displayed her pretty shoulders. Sarah guessed shrewdly that the collar of diamonds she was wearing round her throat was genuine, and she also suspected from the slight tension she could feel emanating from her sister that Jane was a little on edge in her presence.

‘I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to desert you,’ Veronica Merryweather apologised with a smile. ‘I’m on the committee organising the ball…and I’m supposed to be on duty downstairs greeting the new arrivals.’

‘See you in the bar later, eh, Ralph,’ her husband suggested, clapping Ralph genially on the back, as he turned to follow his wife.

The ballroom was easily large enough to hold the five hundred guests invited, and off it were three other reception rooms which had been converted into supper rooms for the purpose of the ball, Jane explained to her sister, breaking off her commentary to exclaim, ‘Good heavens…look over there…isn’t that Lady Fentham? Over there in the puce satin trimmed with some sort of fur. No, there, Sarah.’ She tugged her sister’s arm pointing her in the direction she wished her to look, and all of a sudden Sarah froze. She could see the woman Jane was talking about—but she wasn’t the one who held her interest. Just behind her, but clearly discernible to Sarah, was the man she had seen in the town square that afternoon. It was true that now he was wearing a powdered queue of hair, but there was no mistaking that distinctly masculine profile, nor the intense blue of those sapphire eyes. He turned his head and for a moment it seemed as though he were looking directly at her. For the first time in her life Sarah knew what it meant when someone said their heart missed a beat. Hers seemed to stop completely, the world tilting slowly and then equally slowly righting itself again. She could feel the colour crawling up under her skin, mirroring the intense heat building up inside her. She felt both light-headed enough to float and at the same time almost unable to make any movement that might disengage her attention from the man she was watching.

‘Sarah, come back…’

Reluctantly she looked away and met her sister’s exasperated eyes.

‘For goodness sake…stop worrying about work. You’re here tonight to enjoy yourself—remember?’

It seemed impossible to Sarah that Jane had not realised the real reason for her inattention. She heard herself make some absent remark about Lady Fentham’s outfit, and she listened while Jane pointed out other local dignitaries to her. Some of them she recognised from her teens… others were people Jane and Ralph had got to know since Ralph had been in business on his own.

Several people came up to talk to them; more than one commented on the attractiveness of her own and Jane’s costumes, and Sarah had to admit that they were vastly superior to those most of the guests were wearing.

When she made a comment to this effect Jane pulled a slight face. ‘I know it seems trivial and petty, but now that Ralph’s in business on his own, we do have to keep up appearances. Nothing inspires confidence in the business world quite as much as an outward show of success…but our dresses are lovely, aren’t they?’ She smoothed an appreciative hand over her own skirt. ‘Worth every extra penny it cost to hire them. It was Veronica who tipped me off about where to get them. She’s quite an old hand at these charity dos.

‘Where on earth is Ralph?’ she added frowning slightly. ‘He’s been gone ages. He’s probably talking business somewhere in the bar!’

‘He’s coming now,’ Sarah told her, having spotted her brother-in-law making his way towards them.

‘Come on with me, you two,’ he instructed, ‘we’ve got some celebrating to do.’ He was standing closer to Sarah than to Jane, and slipped his arm round Sarah’s waist, hugging her to him and kissed her on the cheek.

Without knowing why she did so Sarah looked across the room. Her heart started to thud with slow heavy beats as sapphire eyes engaged her own. It was as though a message passed between them; hers saying, ‘His kiss means nothing,’ and his replying, ‘No. I know…but mine will.’

She shuddered, only half listening as Ralph enquired anxiously. ‘Are you cold? You shivered…’

Sarah shook her head, her heart beating so fast, she felt as though it might choke her. Ralph had his other arm round Jane now and he was propelling them both towards the door to one of the supper rooms. Sarah felt as though she didn’t want to move; as though she would give anything not to break that contact so recently and so powerfully established.

The sensation she was experiencing was like nothing she had known before; a sexual magnetism so strong that it seemed almost other-worldly. It was as though a rapport had been established that was so strong and direct that no words were necessary. Unwillingly she let Ralph urge her away, amazed that neither he nor Jane seemed to be aware of what was happening to her. She had felt the power of that concentrated sapphire gaze so intensely that she couldn’t believe that no one else was aware of it.

‘This way,’ Ralph directed once they were in the supper room, guiding them in the direction of a table at which the Merryweathers sat.

Tom Merryweather stood up as they approached, pulling out chairs first for Jane and then for Sarah.

A bottle of champagne in an ice bucket stood beside the table, five tulip-shaped glasses waiting to receive the bubbly liquid.

‘Well, Ralph?’ Tom queried jovially. ‘Have you told them the good news yet?’

‘I thought I’d better get Jane sitting down first,’ Ralph grinned. ‘Tom’s just told me that we’ve got the contract for the software program for his new computer.’

After the buzz of excitement had died down, Tom Merryweather signalled to a hovering waiter to pour the champagne, getting to his feet to toast the success of Ralph’s business.

Sarah was thrilled for her sister and brother-in-law, knowing from what they had told her, what a difference this important contract would make to their lives, and Ralph had also confided that where Tom Merryweather led, others were likely to follow.