Sommersgate House (51 page)

Mrs. K didn’t
hesitate but reached across the table and slid over two framed
photographs that used to be in Julia’s room, the one of her family
at Christmas and the one of her wrapped around Gavin when they were
children. “Sorry, luv, I hope you don’t mind but I took these out
of your room.”

Julia shook
her head, indicating she didn’t mind. She also didn’t know what the
photos had to do with anything. Scanning the photos she memorised,
she tentatively took a sip of her coffee.

“For weeks and
weeks, I’ve been searching and all I could come up with is this,”
Mrs. K went on, then, she slid something that looked like a piece
of paper across the table and when it was in front of Julia, she
flipped it over.

It was a
photograph, a formal portrait taken of the Ashtons with Monique and
Maxwell and a young Douglas (who had to be the same age as Gavin in
the other photo) and Tamsin (at the same age as Julia).

They all
looked refined, well-bred and very serious.

What they did
not look was happy.

The stark
difference between Julia’s photos and Douglas’s photo was
undeniable.

“What…?” Julia
started to say, confusion marring her features and dread beginning
to seep into her bones as she stared in fascination at the handsome
but serious-looking boy who used to be Douglas.

“As long as
I’ve been in this house, there has been no love here,” Mrs. K
announced.

Julia’s heart
clenched and she had half a mind to flee the room because she knew
she didn’t want to hear what was going to come next – what she knew
from piecing together memories and thoughts; what she knew of
Tamsin, Douglas and Monique; what Douglas had said Christmas Eve;
and what she’d been denying now for weeks.

But she
had to stay, she had to
know
.

“You know Lady
Ashton, the way she is with you and her grandchildren, she was no
different to her own children, cold, uninterested, self-absorbed,
sometimes cruel,” Mr. K explained and Julia shuddered at the
thought of having a mother like that. Patricia might have been
strict but Gavin and Julia always knew her sternness came from
love.

“
Mister
Douglas and Miss Tammy, they were close. I was wrong earlier.
There
was
love in this
house. Miss Tamsin loved her brother. She loved him like crazy.”
Mrs. K shook her head. “But it wasn’t enough. Not without a mother
who cared and not with a father who abused him,” Mrs. K stated
quietly.

Julia’s body
jerked at the words and she felt her blood run cold.

“Abused him?”
Julia’s voice was a horrified whisper. “Maxwell abused
Douglas?”

She
frantically tried to picture Maxwell in her mind. He was always
friendly, though not overtly so. He was solicitous but not exactly
kind. Douglas and he clearly did not enjoy each other’s company but
they didn’t avoid one another. Julia had always thought the way
Monique and Maxwell treated their children was just the reserved
way of the English, titled, upper-class.

“Aye, lass,”
Roddy Kilpatrick said. “We wouldn’t be telling you this if we
didn’t think, well, that is to say –”

Mrs. K again
butted in. “We know you care but you’re holding back. I’m sure you
have your reasons, Mister Douglas seems an unfeeling man and maybe
he is, though lately…”

Mrs. K trailed
off and Mr. K took over. “There’s a reason for it, the way he is.”
He was speaking gently, watching Julia with thoughtful, searching
eyes. “And we thought you’d want to know.”

She
didn’t
want
to know,
she
had
to
know.

Julia spoke
around the lump in her throat, her voice croaky. “How did he abuse
Douglas?”

The couple
looked at each other and Mr. K nodded at Mrs. K to go on. “You saw
it most, my love,” he prompted quietly.

When Mrs. K
turned to Julia, there was wetness in her eyes and Julia’s heart
went out to her at the same time she braced for what was to
come.

“It isn’t
something you could see, no bruises, no broken bones. In fact, I
don’t think I could even explain.” Mrs. K’s hands were resting on
the table and they were clenched into fists. Mr. K put his hand on
one of his wife’s and squeezed. She took a shuddering breath and
went on. “Mister Douglas tried so hard to be the best at
everything. He never played, never sat around and watched telly,
such an intense child. If he was outside with a football, it was
because he was practising, driving himself to be the best he could
be. If he was inside, he was studying or reading or –”

“It was never
good enough for old Lord Ashton,” Mr. K broke in and explained what
his wife was trying to say and Julia felt a sinking feeling begin
in the pit of her stomach, a sinking feeling she remembered well.
“Once, before Carter, we had a chauffeur named Hodges. One day, ole
Hodges was ill so Lord Ashton asked me to go and pick Douglas up
from school for a weekend at home. Didn’t go himself, even though
he had nothing to do, he asked me to go. When I got there, the boy
was waiting for me, telling me his father had mixed up the schedule
and there was a rugby match he had to play and asking me politely
if I could wait. I like my rugby, so instead of waiting at the car,
I snuck around to watch the match.” He turned eyes that shone with
admiration and a hint of pride to Julia and her sinking stomach
tightened uncomfortably. “He was magnificent. Could have played
professionally, given time, he was so good. Think the coaches felt
the same.”

“After he came
home,” Mrs. K picked up the story, “Lord Ashton started shouting at
him for being late. When Mister Douglas explained, Lord Ashton
didn’t even ask him how it went or if he won, just asked him if he
made captain. Douglas hadn’t, he wasn’t popular with the other
boys, seeing as he wasn’t outright friendly. It didn’t matter that
he was the best player on the field, Old Lord Ashton just found the
thing he could use to hurt his boy and then he yelled at him, right
in the stairwell, in front of all the staff and Tamsin and anyone
who was in hearing distance which could have been all the way to
town. Yelled and yelled, red in the face and cursing, saying things
to the boy… calling him names –”

“Enough,”
Julia whispered, her stomach in knots, her heart in her throat,
tears pricking at her eyes and pain shooting throughout her body.
But it was as if Mrs. K didn’t hear her, so caught was she in the
ugly memories.

“And it wasn’t
just then, it didn’t matter what he did, how he did it, how well he
did it, which was always well, mind. He’d yell, scream for hours,
saying things no child should hear. Even when he was a young man
–”

“
Enough,” Julia repeated, not thinking she could take
anymore because she knew, she
knew.
She was an adult when it happened to her, the mental abuse,
the shredding of confidence, the abrasion of the soul, to have it
happen to you as a child by your very own father, the thought was
unbearable.

Mrs. K
continued, seeming to need to get it all out and Julia leaned
forward and put out her hands, encompassing both Mr. K and Mrs. K’s
and squeezing, trying to instil warmth and comfort in the older
woman while she dredged up the past.

“
He
shouldn’t hear those things, not from his father, not from anyone
but especially not from his father.” The tears were falling down
her face unheeded. She looked haunted and lost, as if she was
somewhere else. Julia couldn’t imagine her pain, her feelings of
powerlessness, being forced to witness something she could do
nothing about. At the thought of it, of what Douglas had endured,
she felt her own tears spilling over and Mrs. K continued. “Douglas
shut down, day-after-day, year-after-year, slowly he shut down. I’m
not surprised, no one could take it. I don’t blame him for not
allowing himself to feel, to trust and love, because all he felt
for years was nothing from his mother and unspeakable…” She gulped,
unable to find the word to express herself then she pressed on. “At
first he found strength in Miss Tamsin, solace, I think, she tried
so hard to be everything to him, his champion. But then even she
couldn’t penetrate the wall he’d built around himself.” At that,
Mrs. K straightened and her eyes focused on Julia. “And he was good
at everything,
great
at
absolutely everything, so he built the best wall anyone could ever
build,” she said with determined pride as if this was an
accomplishment akin to singlehandedly building The Great Wall of
China.

They sat
there, the three of them, their hands together on the table and
looked at each other. Julia and Mrs. K with tears streaming down
their cheeks and Mr. K’s face red with the effort of not being
unmanned in front of the women.

Eventually,
Mr. K cleared his throat loudly and said, “What’s in the bags?”

Julia wanted
to laugh. She wanted to run screaming from the room. She wanted to
hunt down Monique Ashton and beat her black and blue, to say a tiny
prayer to Tamsin that she hoped her sister would hear to thank her
for being the one ray of light in Douglas’s dismal life. She wanted
to find Douglas, tell him she loved him and do something, anything
to erase his pain.

Instead, Julia
didn’t move, didn’t take away her hands but kept looking deeply
into Mrs. K’s eyes. “Tonight I thought I’d ask you to watch the
children and then I’d make dinner for Douglas. Awhile ago, he asked
me to marry him and, yesterday, I decided I’d tell him yes.”

Mrs. K gasped,
her tear-streaked face lighting up.

“Well that’s a
damned fine piece of news!” Mr. K exclaimed, his expression both
shocked and extremely pleased.

Julia smiled
at Mr. K then moved her eyes to his wife. Quietly, but firmly, she
stated, “I love him. I think I’ve loved him for years.”

Oddly, at her
words, Julia sensed something. It seemed the air in the room closed
in on them, warming, becoming heavy.

Before Julia
could process the change, she saw the tears were coming in earnest
now from Mrs. K and then, abruptly, the older woman was all
a-flurry. She jumped up and ran around the bench and hauled Julia
to her for a bone-jarring hug. Then she let Julia go as suddenly as
she grabbed her and turned to the bags, pulling out the goods
inside.

“Steak, good,
he likes steak,” not lifting her head, she ordered her husband,
“get Ronnie down here, and Miss Lizzie, too. We have things to
do.”

Mr. K rolled
his eyes at Julia, all the despair of moments before dispelled at
Mrs. K’s exuberant busyness. He stood to do as he was
commanded.

“And I need
you to go to the store for some things.” Mrs. K was standing,
holding a bag of potatoes in one hand and asparagus in the other,
looking back and forth between them and one could practically see
her mind whirling. Then she turned to stare at Julia. “You go get
ready, wash those tears off your face. I’ll take care of
everything.”

“But Mrs. K, I
wanted to –” Julia began to say.

“Go,” she
ordered. “We don’t have time for dilly-dallying, Mister Douglas
keeps no schedule, he could be home any minute and we need to be
ready.” When neither Julia nor Mr. K moved she shouted, “Go!”

They jumped to
do her bidding.

* * * * *

When Julia
heard the tires crunching on the drive, she was ready.

While
getting ready, she’d allowed herself to think of the Kilpatricks’
words and to feel compassion for her soon-to-be fiancé. He would
not accept or thank her for her sympathy, even though she, of all
people, knew how he felt (which must have been why
he
reacted so strongly when Julia
explained what Sean had done to her, a fact that, now that she
understood it, made her stomach melt). She knew, though, for the
sake of his pride, that she could never let him know that she knew
the truth. It tore at her heart, knowing why Douglas was the way he
was, but it would always have to be her secret with the
Kilpatricks.

After years of
abuse as a child, she knew it was unlikely she’d ever break through
that wall but he wanted her and by God, he was going to have her.
If she only had a week or was lucky enough to have years to show
him love and tenderness, she was going to give it to him.

Starting
tonight.

She was
embarrassed about going on to Douglas, of all people, about being
alone.

How selfish
she’d been. How stupidly lost she’d been in her own grief and
bitterness. She’d always had her mother and Gavin and a big family
and loads of friends to love, cherish and look after her. Even
here, she had Charlie, Sam, Mr. and Mrs. K, Ronnie and the
children.

But Douglas
had always been alone. Truly alone.

Julia had
carefully prepared, picking her best little black dress (v-necked,
sleeveless and backless it fell to her knees and fit her body
lovingly) and added her stiletto-heeled, pointed-toed black pumps
and Douglas’s emerald. She pulled her hair up in a loose bunch and
let tendrils fall about her face. She was careful with her makeup
(as both hair and makeup would have to survive being significantly
mussed if she had anything to do with it).

She was
trembling with anticipation as she rushed out of her rooms and down
the hall.

She stopped
dead in the door to the dining room, staring at the vision before
her.

A huge crystal
vase sat near the end of the dining room table and it was filled
with stunning red roses with spikes of greenery shooting out
between the buds. A warm fire was burning in the grate and silver
candlestick holders held high, white, tapered candles that had
already been lit. The table was covered with a white damask cloth
and the finest china, crystal and silver were laid out, only two
places, hers and Douglas’s. There was a silver bucket of champagne,
not opened yet, chilling with a folded linen cloth thrown over the
top. Somehow, as it was all set at the head, the enormous table was
reduced to being cosy and romantic.