Читать книгу A Suitable Husband - Jessica Steele - Страница 9

IT WAS still dark when Jermaine awoke the next day. She lay there for a while, recollecting where she was. For someone who had never intended to stay the night, she realised, she had slept very well.

She knew she should get up and start her day—but not just yet. Strangely, where spending a night at Highfield had never been in her plans, now she somehow felt most at home here.

Which was absurd, she decided, pushing back the covers and reaching for the lamp switch. Light flooded the superb room. Work, she decided firmly. She had a long way to go, and she wanted to get Edwina’s breakfast and take it up to her. Correction. She didn’t want to do anything of the sort. But if she didn’t get Edwina’s breakfast Mrs Dobson would be expected to do it.

Dawn had not broken when she showered and dressed. Since she could not hear noises of other occupants astir, Jermaine lingered in her room, stripping her bed and putting her belongings into her overnight bag. When one last check of her room showed there was nothing else she could do to save Mrs Dobson more work, Jermaine silently left her room.

A light burning in the hall indicated that either someone was up or that the light had been left on overnight. Someone was up, Jermaine realised when she went to the main door and found it was already unbolted.

She saw neither hide nor hair of anyone, though, when she took her overnight bag out to her car and triggered off the outside security lights.

She didn’t get to stow her bag, however, because, looking about this idyllic spot, she found her attention drawn to the elegant lamps which stood on stone posts way down the long, long drive. They had been switched on, but it was not the grounds of Highfield that particularly interested her just then—but what lay beyond. It—couldn’t be? Light reflecting on—water?

Staring incredulously, Jermaine set off down the drive. She did not want to believe what her eyes were telling her, but the nearer she got to the end of the drive so she had to believe it. The road beyond was flooded!

With dawn starting to break, but determined not to trust the evidence of her eyes, she skirted the rain-sodden gardens—only to find yet more water. Unbelievably, they were cut off! No way was she going to be able to drive through that lot—she’d be waterlogged long before she came to any main road.

Still staggered, and unwilling to admit defeat—she had a job to go to, for goodness’ sake—Jermaine trudged on. She was going to go to work. She was, she was! Though, as she surveyed the scene, she owned that she didn’t very much fancy being stranded in the middle of a moat, should her car go so far, decide it wasn’t amphibious and pack up on her.

Jermaine was some way from the house, and had skirted round the rear of the building and its outbuildings, when she came unexpectedly to a little footbridge. She went over to it and stared down at the torrent of water that was splashing about in the small stream below. Then she spotted a nearby bench and went over to it. Strangely, then, as she sat down to collect her thoughts, a feeling akin to peace started to wash over her. Should that torrent ever steady down to a ripple this would be a most tranquil spot. Even now the scene—grassy banks, the bridge, even the water—had great charm.

She guessed it hadn’t rained for a couple of hours now; the bench she was seated upon was wind dried. Yet, oddly, the lighter it got and the longer she stayed there—while she was still extremely anxious to leave Highfield this morning—Jermaine discovered she began to feel less anxious than she had.

It was this place, this spot, she realised, having, without being aware of it, started to take in her surroundings. It was winter now, of course, but even when damp and flooded, and with half of the trees having shed their leaves, there was something exquisite, serene, about the spot, about the willow tree bending over the stream, the dear little wooden bridge, the silence, the peace and quiet, the…

‘You’re up and about early,’ remarked a voice, well modulated and, strangely, not disturbing the scene.

Jermaine looked up. ‘It’s lovely here,’ she answered Lukas Tavinor, quite without thinking.

‘You find this corner a bit special?’ he enquired, coming to share her bench.

‘Isn’t it, though?’ she replied. ‘So serene. You could just sit here and forget all your troubles…’ She broke off, astounded—wasn’t that exactly what she had just been doing? She didn’t even like Lukas Tavinor, yet here she was having a friendly conversation with him! She swiftly remedied that. ‘How are you going to get to work today?’ she demanded.

Her change of tone was not lost on him. ‘I’m not,’ he replied evenly.

‘You’re taking the day off?’

‘I doubt I’ll sit at home and do nothing.’

Lucky him! He’d got a study. ‘How long before this floodwater clears?’ she asked grumpily, with ideas of perhaps being able to drive out around mid-morning.

‘Difficult to say. If it doesn’t rain again before Monday…’

‘Monday!’ she gasped, and had her attention drawn to her feet when, ignoring her exclamation, it appeared Tavinor had been studying them.

‘While I have to say I doubt I’ve ever seen a prettier pair of ankles, those shoes are never going to be the same again,’ he remarked.

Jermaine stared at her neat two-and-a-half-inch-heeled shoes. They were black, but since they were now caked in mud they could have been any colour.

‘I’ve got better things to do than sit here all day,’ she abruptly decided, and was on her feet and marching away from him.

He did not fall into step with her, and she told herself she was thankful for that. No doubt he’d been out and about checking for any damage to his property from the storm. Pretty ankles indeed! Was that the sort of nonsense he used on her sister? Was that the kind of thing that made Edwina think he was falling for her? Jermaine thought not. Edwina knew men and…

Edwina! Oh, grief. Monday! She could be stranded here until Monday! Play-acting—going along with this ridiculous farce because Edwina was after Lukas Tavinor! Going along with it for the next three days!

It was farcical. She wouldn’t…Loyalty, family loyalty tripped her up. Even while Jermaine fumed against it and made herself remember how, from childhood onwards, Edwina had always taken anything that was hers, be it a toy, a game, a boyfriend, she still felt this nonsensical family loyalty to her, and knew that no matter how much she kicked against it she wouldn’t give Edwina away.

Feeling thoroughly out of sorts, and this morning revising her last night’s opinion and deciding that Lukas Tavinor did deserve a fate going by the name of Edwina, Jermaine slipped off her shoes and re-entered the house.

By instinct she found the kitchen, and Mrs Dobson. ‘I’m Jermaine Hargreaves,’ she introduced herself to the plump, sixty-something housekeeper. ‘Am I going to be very much in your way if I clean my shoes at your sink?’

‘I’ll do them for you…’

Jermaine wouldn’t hear of it, and for the next half an hour stayed in the kitchen chatting with Mrs Dobson, when that lady wasn’t popping in and out to the breakfast room. And, since Jermaine had told Tavinor that she had better things to do, yet wasn’t able to get to her place of work, she assured the housekeeper that she was there to help.

Jermaine had a bit of breakfast with the housekeeper, and, having got on famously with her, insisted on preparing Edwina’s breakfast. Another half an hour later and Jermaine was carrying a tray up the stairs.

She was nearing the top when a door opened on the opposite side of the landing from where she and Edwina had their rooms, and Jermaine saw Lukas appear from what she presumed was his room.

They met at the top of the stairs. ‘Looking after your sister, I see,’ he remarked with a glance to the tray she was carrying. Jermaine wasn’t sure, had not her hands been full, that she wouldn’t have thumbed her nose at him—she was certain she’d heard a mocking sort of note in his voice. As it was, all she could do was walk past him without a word.

Edwina was still in bed, but wasn’t pleased to see her. ‘I didn’t expect you to still be here!’ she exclaimed nastily.

That makes two of us. ‘It’s either me or a nurse, apparently,’ Jermaine answered, unable to resist seeing the whites of her sister’s eyes.

‘Heaven forbid!’ Edwina roused herself.

Jermaine took the tray over to her. ‘How long do you intend to keep up this pretence?’ she asked forthrightly.

‘What’s it to you?’ Edwina asked disagreeably, her sneering tone flicking Jermaine on the raw and causing her to say more than she would have.

‘Since you ask—and aside from the fact that you’ve got both your parents, your father in particular, in a state worrying about you, not to mention that you’re disrupting the whole household here, expecting to be waited on—were it not for your injury, I would be at work today, earning my living. And talking of earning a living,’ Jermaine flared, ‘it wouldn’t hurt you to get off your back and find yourself a job.’

‘Work! Me!’ Edwina exclaimed as if she’d been shot. ‘I wasn’t brought up to work!’ That was true, Jermaine had to agree. Their father had indulged Edwina past spoiling. ‘Dad wouldn’t want me to soil my hands…’

‘But you must know he can no longer afford to be as generous to you now as he was in the past.’

‘He doesn’t have to be, not for much longer,’ Edwina purred, and Jermaine knew then, if she hadn’t known already, that Edwina would latch on to any man who had money. In this case, Lukas Tavinor. Wasn’t that the sole reason Edwina was still at Highfield? ‘I’ll say goodbye now,’ Edwina went on as Jermaine, again for some unknown reason not thrilled that Lukas might be ensnared, went to the door. ‘Just phone Lukas at his office and tell him that I became so distressed at taking you away from your boring old job that I insisted you leave at once.’