Читать книгу Witchstone - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 8

THEY had been climbing steadily for several miles, and when Jake suddenly pulled the car off the road into a parking area, Ashley saw that they were at the head of a steep bank which wound down into the valley. Spread out below them was a carpet of colours—trees and fields, scattered farms and close-knit villages, all dwarfed from this altitude. A faint mist still lingered to shroud the distant hills, but the sun was gaining strength by the minute and had already melted the rime frost from the hedgerows.

The engine of the car was suddenly silent and rather than look at her companion, Ashley looked about her. Even at this comparatively early hour there were motorists about, and several had parked here to buy hot drinks from a mobile caravan that stood a few yards away.

‘Well?’ said Jake unexpectedly. ‘Have you nothing to say for yourself? You haven’t opened your mouth since we left Bewford!’

Ashley was forced to glance round then, and she moved her shoulders indifferently, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. ‘I’m sorry. I just had nothing to say.’

‘I see.’ Jake’s mouth had a sceptical curve. ‘Do you want some coffee?’

Ashley looked towards the mobile caravan. ‘If you’d like some, I’ll have some——’

‘Will you?’ Jake sounded annoyed, and thrusting open his door he climbed out, slamming the door behind him so heavily that Ashley’s head sang with the sound.

She watched him walk across to the caravan, tall and lean in close-fitting navy pants and a cream sweater. His hair looked particularly dark in the pale sunlight, and although it was bitterly cold still he seemed unaffected by it. He returned a few minutes later with two plastic cups and she leant across his seat to thrust open the door from the inside so that he could climb in again.

He handed her one of the steaming cups of coffee and she sipped the liquid gratefully. It was very comfortable in the warm car, looking out on the sunlit day, able to enjoy the scenery without suffering its less pleasant aspects.

Jake finished his coffee quite quickly, and putting the cup down lit a cheroot, exhaling the aromatic flavour of tobacco into the air. The silence between them seemed infinitely more pronounced now that the vehicle was stationary, and Ashley began to experience a feeling of nervous tension. She had never really been alone with a man before, and she couldn’t help feeling apprehensive.

At last he half turned in his seat to look at her, and said: ‘Why did you come with me? It’s pretty obvious you’re not enjoying yourself.’

Ashley looked down at her half empty cup of coffee. ‘Why do you say that?’ she parried.

Jake uttered an expletive. ‘You know damn well why. I might as well be alone!’

Ashley felt terrible. ‘I’m sorry.’

Jake shook his head impatiently. ‘Are you?’ He dropped ash from his cheroot into the tray provided. ‘What I can’t understand is—why did you agree to come? No one forced you. I just thought you might enjoy it. As it is, I doubt whether either of us is going to do so.’

Ashley shifted unhappily in her seat. ‘I—did want to come,’ she insisted.

‘Did being the operative word, I suppose.’

‘Yes—no—oh, no! That’s not what I meant to say.’ She looked at him helplessly, her green eyes slanted and appealing. ‘I just think that—perhaps you shouldn’t have asked me!’

Jake’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, I suppose because—because you’re—well—who you are,’ she murmured lamely.

‘You mean because I’m so much older than you are—or because I’m engaged to be married—or because my father employs your cousin?’

Ashley coloured. ‘A combination of all three, I suppose.’

‘I see.’ Jake took a long draw on his cheroot and then pressed it out with savage movements.

‘You—understand, don’t you?’ Her voice was uneven.

‘What’s to understand? It all comes down to the same thing, doesn’t it? You wish you hadn’t come because you’re bored——’

‘That’s not true!’ Ashley’s eyes were stormy now.

Jake made an impatient gesture. ‘Then tell me what my age, my fiancée and my money has to do with us going to see a library fifty miles away?’

Ashley felt angry. He was deliberately misunderstanding her. He must know what she meant. ‘Because I don’t like being patronised,’ she got out at last, trembling at her own temerity.

‘Patronised?’ Jake glared at her. ‘Who’s patronising you?’

‘You are!’ Ashley’s nails bit into her palms. ‘Whose idea was it to take me to Raybury? Yours—or your fiancée’s?’

‘My God!’ Jake lay back in his seat in disbelief. ‘What the hell are you talking about? You know whose idea it was—mine! It was conceived in the bar of the Golden Lion.’

Ashley took a deep breath. ‘But why? Why me? Why not Karen, for instance?’

Jake hunched his shoulders. ‘I’ve told you. Because I thought you’d find it interesting. I didn’t realise there was going to be an inquest into my motives or I’d have had something prepared.’

Ashley stared unseeingly through the windscreen. ‘I see.’

‘Does that satisfy you?’

She shrugged. Did it? Was she satisfied now that she knew that Jake had not discussed his intentions with his fiancée before asking her out with him? She ought to be. And why did she need that reassurance anyway? She was trying to read more into his invitation than he had ever intended. And why? Because she was childish enough to want him to see her as an equal and not as a schoolgirl.

Jake swung round in his seat. ‘I think we’d better get on,’ he said shortly, ‘unless you’d rather go back!’

Ashley bit her lips. ‘Of course I don’t want to go back,’ she exclaimed, stretching out a hand impulsively towards him. His forearm was hard beneath her fingers, the muscles taut, the heat of his flesh tangible through the soft wool. ‘Look, I know you’ll probably think I’m stupid, but—well, Aunt Mona said that no doubt you had discussed the idea of inviting me with your—your fiancée, and I—I didn’t——’ She shook her head. ‘Well, I didn’t like the idea of being—discussed!’

‘You mean I have Mona to thank for this?’ he queried sarcastically, resting his elbows on the steering wheel.

Ashley’s fingers probed his arm almost involuntarily. ‘Are you—very angry?’

He looked down meaningfully at her hand and she hastily withdrew it, linking her fingers together in her lap again. ‘I’m not angry—just irritated.’ He sighed. ‘I should perhaps point out that I do not have to clear my movements with Barbara. If I choose to invite you to accompany me to a sale—anywhere—that’s my decision, and no one else’s.’

Ashley bent her head, her hair falling like a silken curtain about her cheeks. ‘If you say so.’

‘Damn you, I do say so!’ He turned the ignition with controlled violence. ‘Shall we go?’

Ashley nodded, and the sleek sports saloon swung round in a circle to merge into the stream of traffic.

They drove down Sutton Bank and followed the winding road to Thirsk, entering the small market town just after ten-thirty. Ashley looked about her with interest. In spite of the fact that she and Jake were still saying little to one another, the atmosphere between them had significantly changed, and she no longer felt like an unwelcome encumbrance.

A few miles beyond Thirsk they joined the main trunk road north and for a while Jake had to concentrate on his driving. He controlled the powerful car expertly and without seeming effort, and Ashley was content to relax inside her seat belt and enjoy the ride.

They left the motorway just before Scotch Corner, taking the Richmond road for a short distance before turning off for Raybury. Traffic was sparse on these country roads, although they did pass one or two vehicles which Ashley thought might conceivably be on their way to the sale.

It was nearing eleven-thirty when they ran through the village of Raybury, and Ashley was enchanted by the tall houses flanking the village green, and the ducks on the pond. Daffodils were blooming in clutches, and in spite of the cold the trees showed definite signs of new life.

‘What a pretty place!’ she exclaimed, and Jake glanced indulgently at her.

‘You think so?’

‘Hmm. Don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes, I like it,’ he nodded. ‘I used to come here a lot at one time. The father of one of my friends at university was the village doctor here. That was his house—there, can you see?’

He pointed to a tall white-painted building with the metal plate still on the tall gatepost, and Ashley leant forward to see, her arm brushing his.

‘Oh, yes,’ she smiled. ‘Isn’t he here any longer?’

Jake shook his head, as she sank back in her seat. ‘Ben’s father retired to Spain about five years ago, I believe, and Ben himself is married and lives in Scotland. He’s a doctor, too.’

‘And didn’t you want a career?’ asked Ashley impulsively, and then pressed a hand to her mouth as though to stifle the words.

Jake slowed to pass some children on bicycles. ‘It depends what you mean by a career,’ he replied, without rancour. ‘I did get my degree, if that’s any saving grace.’

Ashley looked apologetic. ‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.’

Jake’s lips twisted. ‘No, it’s not, is it?’

‘Do you mind?’ Her eyes were challenging.

For a moment his gaze held hers and then he was forced to look back at the road. ‘No,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t mind.’

It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it, that made something inside Ashley stretch and expand and send prickles of awareness out to the extremities of her body. He had such an attractive voice, she told herself, trying to analyse her enjoyment of his company. The simplest thing was made to sound as though it was for her ears alone, and to imagine him saying more intimate things caused a surge of heat to moisten her palms and dry her throat.

Oh, God, she thought suddenly, I’m enjoying this too much. It was only a casual outing, after all, with a definite purpose in mind, and she was imbuing it with attributes of a much more personal nature.

Fallow House stood behind a high brick wall at the end of the village. It was not a particularly attractive dwelling, made of grey stone, with several unsightly chimneys and a welter of outhouses tacked on to the main building with an absence of design or balance. There were several cars already parked when Jake brought the Ferrari to a smooth halt on the gravelled forecourt, and almost before he had opened his door a man came hurrying down the steps of the house towards him.

The newcomer was of medium height, which meant that Jake was much taller, and had a decided paunch beneath his well cut lounge suit. He looked about fifty, Ashley decided, and his wispy brown hair had been combed across the bald patch that was obviously the bane of his life. But he was certainly delighted to see Jake and shook hands with him warmly.

Pushing open her door, Ashley climbed out, shivering as a sudden gust of wind probed the buttoned fastening of the red blouse she was wearing. Flared cream slacks were warm against her legs, and she bent to pull her suede coat from the back of the car. The coat was dark green, edged with cream fur along the collar, cuffs and hem, and had a warm hood which she drew up over her ears.

Jake saw that she had got out, too, and excusing himself from the other man for a moment, pulled his own sheepskin jacket from the Ferrari. Then he locked the car and said: ‘Shall we go inside? We can talk just as easily there.’

The smaller man nodded, his gaze flickering speculatively over the slim girl at Jake’s side. Ashley wondered whether he knew Barbara and was perhaps conjecturing on her relationship with Jake.

There were quite a lot of people in the draughty hall of the house, standing about in groups talking, and Jake spoke to a number of them. Ashley got quite accustomed to being mentally appraised immediately after Jake had been greeted, but she couldn’t help feeling slightly embarrassed by the closeness of their scrutiny. However, Jake seemed totally indifferent to their interest in his companion, and apart from introducing her to Walter Beswick, the man who had joined them on their arrival, he made no concessions to their curiosity.

Wandering round the house at Jake’s side, listening to his conversation with the other man, Ashley gathered that there were several valuable pieces here among a rather motley assortment of old furniture. There was, for instance, a seventeenth-century walnut cabinet, with lots of small drawers decorated with floral marquetry; an Adam table carved with rams’ heads that Ashley found quite fascinating; and a magnificent four-poster bed in the master bedroom, which according to the catalogue dated back to the eighteenth century.

It was at least eight feet wide and perhaps seven feet in length, and fitted with a modern mattress Ashley thought it would be superbly comfortable. Jake, who had been examining an oak chest which was standing against the wall in the same room, turned to find her stroking the scrollwork on one of the bedposts with a rather faraway look in her eyes. Walter Beswick was on his hands and knees beside the oak chest, trying to find any deterioration in the wood, and for a moment they were virtually alone.

‘What are you thinking?’ Jake asked, in her ear, and she started in surprise.

‘Oh—it’s you!’ she exclaimed, aware that her heart was thumping unnecessarily loudly. ‘I was just thinking—what a super bed this would make. Don’t you think so?’ She bent and pressed the yielding flock mattress that presently covered the solid base. ‘With a decent mattress, of course.’

Jake folded his arms and studied the bed thoughtfully. ‘Hmm. A bit cumbersome, don’t you think? And much too big for one person.’

Ashley made a deprecating gesture. ‘I wasn’t meaning—for myself.’

‘No?’ Jake raised his dark eyebrows. ‘For me, then? You think my fiancée would like something like this in our bedroom?’

Ashley bent her head, her enthusiasm for the piece fading. ‘I was just speaking metaphorically,’ she said.

‘Metaphorically?’ murmured Jake, in admiration. ‘Now that’s a very good word. What does it mean?’

Ashley opened her mouth to tell him and then closed it again at the mocking glint in his eyes. Turning away, she said determinedly: ‘Where is the library? I’d like to see it.’

There was silence for a moment and she waited uneasily for him to reply. But when he did, it was something entirely different. ‘If you’d like the bed, I’ll buy it for you.’

Ashley swung round then, her eyes wide and alarmed. ‘Oh, no! No, thank you.’ Apart from the practicalities involved, she could just imagine the gossip if it ever emerged that Jake Seton had bought her a bed. Then she faltered, tipping her head on one side, trying to read his expression. Was she taking seriously again something that could only be a joke? ‘You’re not serious, are you?’

Jake’s arms fell to his sides. ‘Why not?’

Ashley shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. ‘Well, because—where would I put a bed like that?’ She tried to laugh, and failed abysmally.

‘You’ll be getting married one day. I’ve no doubt some arrangement could be made to store the bed until then——’

‘No!’ Ashley looked down at her hands, up at him and then down at her hands again. ‘Thank you, but no.’

To her relief Walter Beswick came to join them then, marking something down in his catalogue. He was nodding in a satisfied way and Jake said: ‘What do you think?’

‘Oh, I think so—very definitely,’ remarked Walter, patting Jake on the shoulders. ‘Shall we go downstairs?’

The library was quite extensive, with a comprehensive collection of classical literature as well as many modern novels. Among the rarer volumes was a first folio of Shakespeare’s plays, and a German Bible which Jake told Ashley was a common constituent among book collections. The most valued item was an illuminated manuscript illustrating one of the books of the New Testament, and this was kept apart from the others and no one was allowed to handle it.

But Ashley was quite content to browse through the rest of the books, and she was glad she was able to do so when a group of collectors finally annexed Jake and took him away to see some paintings which were stacked indiscriminately at the bottom of the staircase.

She glanced at her watch. There was a decidedly hollow feeling now in the region of her stomach, and she was not surprised to discover it was half past twelve. Jake had said the sale was due to start at noon, but obviously he had been mistaken. She sighed. Perhaps she should have asked her aunt to make them some sandwiches. It seemed apparent that they were not going to have time for any lunch.

The sale eventually began at one o’clock, starting with the smaller items and gradually progressing to the larger ones. A room had been cleared at the back of the house and chairs were provided for those who wanted to sit down. Ashley found herself with Walter Beswick, half a dozen other men separating her from Jake, and she sat rather dejectedly in one of the hard wooden chairs wishing she had the effrontery to push her way through to Jake’s side. But he seemed absorbed, and she felt too young and inexperienced to act any differently.

All the small moveable items for auction were brought into the room, but Walter took the time to explain that the buyers were expected to examine the larger items before the sale and bid for them from the numbers in their catalogues.

There were quite a number of paintings, mostly portraits and landscapes, which even Ashley could see were practically worthless. But there was a picture by Gauguin which appealed to her very much, and she was not surprised to discover that Jake was interested in it, too. The bidding was brisk, but she was disappointed when Jake dropped out and another man bought it for what seemed like a reasonable sum. She wished she had been near enough to commiserate with Jake, but when next she caught a glimpse of him he didn’t appear too concerned.

The library came next, and as expected the illuminated manuscript caused quite a stir. But afterwards, apart from one or two editions which were sold separately, the majority of the books were bought by a dealer from Leeds. Ashley felt quite sad at the thought that they were to be taken from their shelves where they had no doubt rested together for years and years to be sold independently over the counter in some secondhand bookshop.

The afternoon drew on. Ashley was feeling terribly hungry. She had only had a slice of toast and a cup of tea before leaving that morning, and apart from the cup of coffee they had bought at the top of Sutton Bank, nothing since. She should have made sure she had a good breakfast before leaving, but she had been too excited to eat much then.

As far as she could see, Jake hadn’t bought a thing so far, and she wondered whether they were staying until the end. It was already three o’clock, and the windows were misty now, evidence of the chill air outside. There was still all the furniture to start on, and her spirits sank when she considered how long that might take. Surely none of these people had had any lunch. Didn’t they need nourishment?

She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, trying to stimulate her circulation. It wasn’t cold in the room, but it wasn’t warm either, and the continual sustainment of one position was apt to stiffen her limbs.

‘Are you ready to go?’

She had been unaware that Jake had left his acquaintances and come to stand by her chair. She looked up at him uncomprehendingly. ‘I thought you wanted to bid for the furniture,’ she whispered, in surprise.

‘Walter knows what I’m interested in,’ replied Jake, in low tones. ‘Don’t you, Walter?’

Walter Beswick got to his feet. ‘Of course. Are you leaving now?’

Jake nodded, flicking back his cuff and examining his watch. ‘It’s half past three. I don’t want to be too late back.’ He glanced meaningfully in Ashley’s direction.

Walter nodded understandingly, but Ashley got to her feet rather indignantly. ‘You don’t have to leave on my account,’ she declared.

Jake half smiled, his lean face disturbingly attractive. ‘Don’t I? That’s good to know.’

He patted Walter’s shoulder, and conveyed silent instructions, and Walter moved his head slowly up and down. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow, Jake,’ he said. ‘About ten?’

‘Fine.’ Jake indicated that Ashley should precede him. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

Walter smiled, his well-rounded face beaming. ‘You will. G’bye. G’bye, Ashley.’

‘Goodbye, Mr. Beswick.’ Ashley tried to appear coolly composed, but didn’t quite make it. She felt worse now than she had done at the start of their journey, and she was convinced that she was dragging Jake away from the sale at a time when he would have been most interested.

Outside, the cold air stung her cheeks, and she hurried across to the Ferrari, holding her coat collar closely about her throat. Jake unlocked the car doors and she quickly got inside, not even pausing to take off her coat as he did and throw it carelessly into the back. She sat hunched up in her seat, her knees together, her whole attitude emanating disapproval.

Jake closed his door and looked sideways at her. Then he sighed. ‘Now what’s wrong? You’re a very transparent creature, Ashley. You don’t make any attempt to hide your feelings, do you?’

Ashley tugged distractedly at the fingers of her suede gloves. ‘You know perfectly well what’s wrong,’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve only left because of me. You said so.’

Jake shook his head. ‘I’ve left, as you put it, because I’ve had enough. I wanted to leave. Do you mind? I’d have thought you’d be dying of hunger by now. Did you think I was going to starve you?’

Ashley made an involuntary gesture. ‘But you haven’t bought anything!’

‘Haven’t I?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not dissatisfied with the way things have gone, so why should you be?’

‘Because if I wasn’t here, you would stay!’

‘Ashley, if you weren’t here, I shouldn’t have come,’ he stated disconcertingly, and left her to ponder on that as he started the car and drove smoothly out of the stone gateway.

The light was fading when Jake eventually pulled off the road into the car park of a large, well-lit building, which looked rather like a country house. He had driven fast down the motorway and she had begun to think that he was hoping to reach Bewford in time for an evening meal. The pangs of hunger had been stilled by the motion of the car, and she had her thoughts to occupy her.

The engine was switched off and Jake said: ‘Come on! I’m hungry. They do a damn good steak here.’

Ashley hesitated. ‘But ought we to stop?’ she questioned. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to get home.’

Jake sighed, somewhat impatiently. ‘You know, you’re the most argumentative female I know,’ he said, reaching for his coat. ‘Why should you imagine I was in a hurry to get home? Did I say so?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But you drove fast down the motorway.’

‘I always drive fast on motorways—and besides, I’m hungry. Aren’t you?’

Ashley pressed her lips together, giving him a rather sheepish smile. ‘Ravenous!’

Jake shook his head, and thrust open his door, and realising he was not about to comment, she did likewise.

Frost was already glinting on the ground in places, but fortunately it was dry and there was little danger of the roads becoming icy. They walked across to the lighted entrance of the building, and as they walked, Jake explained:

‘This used to be a manor house, about twenty years ago. The chap who owns it went to school with my father. Unfortunately, his family ran into financial difficulties and money was pretty tight, and that was when Paul—that’s this fellow’s name—had this brilliant idea of turning the place into a sort of country club. They owned the land adjoining it, so now they provide golf and tennis, and swimming in the season.’