Sommersgate House Page 15

  “Miss Julia…” she said loudly when he started to walk away.

  He stopped walking and turned towards her again.

  “Is at the supermarket,” she finished hurriedly.

  He regarded her inquisitively.

  Mrs. Kilpatrick had been in his life for as long as he could remember. She excelled at her job, never complained, was immensely loyal to his house and her work and, for all of that, he respected her.

  Even so, except for when she reported the household finances to him on a quarterly basis, he wasn’t certain she’d ever spoken more than a few words to him of her own free will.

  “Is that so?” he replied in an effort to be polite and he swore he saw her gulp. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong with her though he didn’t give this much thought as he had other thoughts on his mind and he started back towards his study.

  Then he stopped and saw Carter outside surveying the fountain as if something was wrong with it.

  If Carter was outside, how was Julia at the market?

  “Tell me, Mrs. Kilpatrick, did Miss Fairfax get her driver’s license while I was away?” he asked courteously, glancing in her direction again.

  She nodded. “She certainly did, sir. Pleased as pie, ‘Freedom!’ She said. ‘Relief!’”

  Misinterpreting what the woman wanted him to understand, and amused at her description of Julia’s reaction, he thought she wished to report that Julia had taken a car.

  “So, she’s out in one of my cars, is she?” he prompted.

  She surprised him by shaking her head. “No sir. She walked.”

  “Walked?” He’d never been to a grocery store but he’d driven by them and he knew the closest one was in town and that was at least three miles away. Furthermore, why didn’t she simply ask Carter to get her what she wanted from the market? “Why would she walk?”

  “She’s begun to like the excursions, sir. She takes Ruby. They both come in with cheeks pink and healthy,” Mrs. Kilpatrick answered.

  Douglas crossed his arms on his chest.

  “Mrs. Kilpatrick. I have things to do,” he explained impatiently, his tone telling her in no uncertain terms she was wasting his time and she should get to the point.

  And Douglas was impatient because he was annoyed. This was obviously Julia’s way of telling him she was not going to use his staff and that she was going to do her bit to contribute to the household by purchasing groceries since he wasn’t going to allow her to pay her way.

  “Sorry sir,” Mrs. Kilpatrick bent to her task and he couldn’t help but think she looked scared to death. This annoyed him all the more.

  He expected his staff to respect him, to be quiet and go about their duties but he never expected, or to this point received, fear. He knew the staff were anxious around his mother but they’d never appeared that way with him.

  “It’s just,” she went on, interrupting his thoughts, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her and it held both a tremor of fear and, if his hearing didn’t deceive him, a note of anger, “those children need something decent in their bellies, something they like to eat. And Lady Ashton won’t allow me to add anything to the grocery list or Carter to buy anything more. It’s a long way for Miss Julia and little Ruby to go, carrying back bags and all, especially when it’s raining. And since Lady Ashton forbid them to use Carter unless she gave her express permission, then they had to walk all last week. I thought that they’d get to use a car, seeing as Miss Julia has a license now and she was so excited about it. But today, Lady Ashton said now she couldn’t use a car unless she gave her express –”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Kilpatrick,” Douglas cut her off, turned away and walked toward his study, his jaw set, his gait determined. The annoyance was escalating to an extraordinary feeling the like of which he had not felt for a very long time.

  Then he turned back and called down the hall. “Mrs. Kilpatrick,” her head shot up and her hand flew to her throat in fear, “tell Carter to go fetch them. When he gets back, tell him I want to see him.”

  “Yes sir!” she replied and walked swiftly towards the front door. As she passed him, he could tell she was holding back a smile.

  For his part, Douglas found nothing to smile about.

  His phone was ringing when he walked into the study. He strode to his desk, jerked it angrily out of the cradle and answered curtly, “Yes?”

  “Oh no, sounds like you’re having a bad day,” Oliver Forsythe returned.

  “I’m hoping it’ll get better,” Douglas ground out as he sat, turned in his chair and stared out the window, thinking of Julia and little Ruby tramping out there in the cold and mud, heaving carrier bags of groceries home all because of his bloody mother.

  “I’m afraid I’m calling to tell you it’s going to get worse. Charlie had a conversation with Julia this morning and now she’s…” the other line buzzed and Douglas swivelled in his chair to look down at the phone while Oliver finished, “on the warpath. She told me she was going to call you.”

  “I don’t think she’s wasted any time. The other line is going.”

  “Good luck, mate,” Oliver replied, his tone amused, and rang off.

  Douglas hit the button to connect to the other line and before he could speak, Charlotte exploded, “Douglas, have you lost your mind?”

  “Hello Charlotte,” he responded evenly to her irate voice.

  “Don’t you, ‘Hello Charlotte’ me. Do you know where Jewel is right now?”

  He wondered vaguely when Julia had become “Jewel” to Charlotte and he felt a bizarre twist of jealousy slice through his gut.

  “The supermarket?” Douglas ventured.

  “Do you know how she got there?” she yelled.

  “She walked. Listen Charlotte, I just got home last night –” for some reason, far beyond him, he felt compelled to explain. Even though his feeling the need to explain was a rather spectacular event, Charlotte ignored him and broke in angrily.

  “And that’s another thing, you’re gone too much. Not only have you left Jewel like a lamb at the slaughter that is Monique, you’re never home. I called this morning to tell her I have some friends who are trustees at a faltering charity and they need some quick, and cheap, as in free, consultation. With a little work bringing her up to speed, and Sam could do the research for her, Jewel could have helped them. It would have been a great way for her to get some experience, start to network, learn the ways in a different country. But, no…” she drew out the last word sarcastically, “she doesn’t trust Monique with the children and doesn’t want to ask more of your staff, so she refuses to leave the children behind and won’t do it.”

  He had barely processed her speech when she went on, telling him of Monique’s little “tea party” and something about “lollipop girls” and how Monique told Lizzie she was overweight. His brain conjured an image of the girl with her sunken cheeks and bruised eyes and his jaw tightened again.

  “Enough, Charlotte,” Douglas interrupted her curtly. “I get your point.”

  “You’d better because it isn’t fair on her, putting up with all of that and dealing with her homesickness and her and the children’s grief. I didn’t expect much of you, and, doubtlessly, neither did Tammy, but I expected more than this.” Before he could reply to that cutting remark, she said, “I’ll see you on Thanksgiving,” and the phone went dead in his hand.

  He replaced the receiver and stared at the phone. As Charlotte and Mrs. Kilpatrick’s words started to penetrate, he felt a slow, unfamiliar, but not in the slightest indecipherable, burn begin.

  “Darling! You’re home! How lovely.”

  He looked up from the phone and saw his mother in the doorway.

  Monique had very bad timing.

  Douglas didn’t like what he was feeling. He had, for many years, guarded against feeling anything at all. He’d had to or he would have been crushed by his father’s tirades. But now the thoughts were racing through his mind and anger was boiling at his gut.

  W
hile he’d been away, he thought a great deal about Julia.

  Once he made up his mind about something, he didn’t often turn back. He was intent on starting his strategy to win her around to his way of thinking, of making her his wife and then, or before (if he was successful) taking her to his bed.

  But he’d allowed himself to think of that kiss. That extraordinary kiss in the dining room and just how easily she responded to it. Sean Webster had been a wealthy man of position; it wouldn’t be the first time Julia had found herself a good catch. Douglas was definitely her type if Webster was anything to go by.

  And Douglas had allowed himself to believe from his vast experience of human behaviour that no one did something for nothing. Especially if that something required a great sacrifice that altered their entire life and their future.

  And he had limitless knowledge of conniving women who put on a great show for the ultimate goal, which was him.

  So he berated himself for his quick decision to make her his wife, which would be exactly what she wanted. He talked himself into believing the worst of her and then decided to confront her with it. He’d been thrilled she’d given him that opportunity quickly by appearing so fortuitously in his study last night. He intended to trip her up, make her expose herself and then he intended to kick her out.

  He had not expected how their conversation would turn. He had not expected for her to admit to sustaining the same abuse from Webster as he himself had endured from his father.

  And lastly, he had not expected his intense reaction to it.

  When she said the word “hurt” in that awful voice as if it was dredged up from her very soul, he knew it corresponded to a feeling long since buried deep in the pit of his own.

  Rage and sorrow for another human being, he found, did not mix well. Julia had never let on, not once, to the extent of Webster’s callousness. She had always put on a brave face.

  He found, to his surprise, that he wanted to do something about it, to take away her pain, her bitterness, to make her happy.

  Her face had been in shadow but her words were enough. She was either the best actress in the world or she was innately damaged. Her proclamation that she’d next marry a balding short man who would clean the bathroom was said with such force, he thought she believed it.

  He then decided immediately to resume his strategy. She would not next marry a short, balding man unless he himself started to lose his hair and shrink.

  And not only would he never, but she would also never again clean a bathroom.

  He faced his mother with his temper close to the surface.

  “Mother,” he said tersely by way of greeting, “you’ve been busy while I was away.”

  Her step faltered when she caught site of the unusual look on his face but she persevered. “Well yes, I was just at the spa and –”

  “I didn’t mean the spa. I meant Julia.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Of what, exactly, are you accusing me? Did she –?”

  “Julia didn’t say a word,” he informed her and realised it was true.

  Julia had been angry last night and said something about his mother being as warm as Siberia but that was the extent of it. After Mrs. Kilpatrick and Charlotte’s descriptions of his mother’s behaviour, he was a little surprised that Julia didn’t throw that in his face, especially when she was angry.

  “Well,” Monique sat in a chair across from his desk, completely composed except her eyes flashed maliciously. “She’s insufferable. I cannot imagine what drove Tamsin to torture me in her death. It is, frankly, too much to take to force her poor, grasping, American,” she said the word with all the xenophobia she felt, “sister-in-law on us. It is simply too much!”

  “Unka Douglas,” Ruby screamed from the doorway.

  Douglas looked up to see Ruby racing across the room toward him and Julia standing in the doorway, her face pale beneath the rosy blush on her cheeks, acquired, no doubt, from being outside. Her posture was rigid, her eyes angry. She was wearing a pair of her faded, snug-fitting jeans, an item in her wardrobe of which he was beginning to be rather fond. The jeans ended in a pair of scuffed, old cowboy boots. She had on a thermal shirt with little pink dots printed on it, over that a Western-style denim shirt that buttoned part of the way up with pearl snaps and a thin, pink, downy vest over it all. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail at the crown of her head and her gorgeous face was free of makeup.

  Ruby interrupted his perusal of Julia by jumping up, he caught her in his arms, lifting her into his lap and she threw her own arms around him, giving him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  “Hello Ruby,” Douglas murmured when he caught her eyes.

  “We just went to the supermarket,” Ruby yelled.

  “Did you?” he asked but his eyes moved to Julia.

  Monique didn’t bother to turn and her face remained a frozen mask.

  “Yes, we’re going to make choca-chip cookies today!” Ruby shouted.

  “I’ll bet you are,” Monique muttered scathingly and at that, Julia spoke.

  “Come on Ruby, let’s get washed up and make those cookies.” Her voice betrayed nothing to Ruby as she extended her arm but her movements were jerky and Douglas knew she was angry and he knew this was because she’d heard his mother’s words.

  Douglas leaned forward, put Ruby on her feet and the little girl rushed back toward Julia. Julia didn’t say a word to either Douglas or Monique. She just took Ruby’s hand and walked stiffly away.

  “Charming. I’ve been gone for days and she doesn’t even say hello,” Monique noted, her tone ugly and she ignored the fact that she not only hadn’t greeted her grandchildren’s aunt, she also had not greeted her grandchild, nor, Douglas realised something very telling, did Ruby even look at her grandmother.

  He sat back in his chair, put his elbows on its arms, steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. Then he regarded his mother coldly and, as usual, quickly made his decision.

  “Mother, I don’t believe we’ve had an important conversation,” he declared with deceptive calm.

  “Yes, dear?” she asked, her eyebrows going up, her face the picture of innocence. He reacted rather negatively to this familiar faux expression.

  “I think,” he started, “you need to be aware of my thoughts on the matter of Julia and the children.”

  “And what are those, darling?” She was the picture of motherly love and concern. For years he’d ignored it but now it made bile rise up the back of his throat.

  “Julia is now a member of this family, not a member of staff, not a guest, though you haven’t treated her as such. She will be afforded all the power and protection that means.”

  All motherly love gone in a flash, her voice now had an edge when Monique demanded, “Perhaps you should make yourself perfectly clear.”

  “It means that Julia’s position here, as co-guardian to Tamsin’s children, is elevated above yours,” he retorted bluntly and heard her gasp.

  “I cannot believe you’d –” she began.

  “Believe it,” Douglas cut her off. “If you don’t like it, you can move to the dower house in Clevedon or I’ll find you a place in London.” Her eyes widened in fury but unaffected, Douglas carried on. “Now, do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “I cannot believe you’d chose that… that… woman over me!”

  He didn’t bother to reply.

  Then her face changed, the outrage melting to venom. “I see. I see very well. You are, of course, welcome to her. She’ll suck you dry, as she did with Sean, but –”

  “That’ll do,” Douglas declared with such finality her head jerked. She stared at him a moment, her eyes working then she nodded slowly and rose from her chair in order to leave.

  She moved to the door but stopped and paused for a parting shot. “I cannot believe I’ve raised such a cold-hearted son who’d put his mother out in favour of a money grubbing schemer.”

  “Can’t you? As I remember, you didn’t p
articularly care to raise Tamsin or me at all. Both of us you ignored and for my part you left me in the hands of a vicious and abusive father.”

  Again she let out an outraged gasp, this quite genuine as he’d brought up a subject that they had never discussed.

  Not ever.

  “I’ll not have you talk about your father in that way!” Monique snapped.

  “Mother, in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s been dead for years. He can’t hear you defend him and then offer you a diamond necklace for your efforts.”

  She blew air out of her nostrils at this effrontery and then, without a word, whirled on her heel and left.

  Douglas stared at the door for long moments after she left. He was furious at the conversation and cursing himself, his mother and Julia who was inadvertently responsible after bringing up all his old demons last night during their conversation. Demons he had methodically locked away. Demons he did not want to, would not, face.

  It was high time he had the conversation he’d been meaning to have with Julia since this morning.

  With determination, he got up and went to the kitchen to do just that.

  Chapter Ten

  The Proposal

  They were elbow deep in cookie dough, three baking sheets sitting on the vast kitchen table half-filled with sloppy balls. Ruby was on her knees on the bench, her fingers a mess, slipping Carter, who was sitting across from her doing a crossword puzzle, pieces of dough (while consuming much of it herself) nearly as fast as Julia could put them on the sheets.

  “It would be nice, Ruby-girl, if your brother and sister had some cookies when they got home from school,” Julia admonished but her tone was teasing.

  After she said this, with confusion Julia noticed Carter stiffen and he glanced swiftly down at his crossword puzzle, all the smiles and winks he’d been passing Ruby erased from his face.

  “Carter.”

  Julia jumped and turned around to see Douglas stroll arrogantly in the kitchen. She cursed him silently, prowling around like a cat. How a big man like him could be so damn quiet, she’d never know.