Wendy Soliman (21 page)

Saskia hesitated on the landing, hand on the door to the bedroom she hadn’t entered for over six years. She was in Southview Manor, alone. Her brother Gerald had driven her over and offered to stay, but she’d sent him away. She had something she wished to do, and she needed privacy in which to do it.

The customs’ men had thoroughly searched the house, their less than careful attention to their duty obvious everywhere she looked, but they’d been unable to find any evidence linking her father to the ghastly trade of slave smuggling. Saskia didn’t know whether to be relieved or angered by their lack of success. As it was, she’d been granted permission to call at the house and collect a few of the personal possessions which still remained in her old room.

Most of the staff had been dismissed, some taking up the offer of employment at Riverside House; only the housekeeper remained. Saskia had chosen to call on a day when she knew that the old lady, once so well-known to her, wouldn’t be in the house. The effort of maintaining a cheerful attitude at her aunt’s establishment was starting to tell upon her, and the temptation to steal a few hours by herself had been compelling.

There were two customs’ men guarding the front of the house, but she’d been permitted to enter and could now enjoy the solitude she so sought. She felt the stillness of the house closing around her and shivered, expecting her father at any moment to burst upon her and demand to know what she thought she was about. Shaking off such gloomy thoughts, she opened the door to her chamber and stepped inside.

It was much as it had been when she left it, except for the obvious signs of the recent search. She felt confident, however, that they wouldn’t have found her secret hiding place, and was proved right when she heaved the table beside her bed to one side and lifted the corner of the rug. It was the work of a moment to remove the still-familiar loose floorboards and grope gingerly about in the gap below, searching for the Hessian bag she prayed would still be concealed there.

Relieved at locating the sack without difficulty, Saskia hauled her prize onto the bed and sat down beside it, smiling with satisfaction. Her hiding place had been the only secret she’d ever been able to keep from her father, and she had treasured it. Opening the sack reverently, Saskia withdrew a packet of letters tied together with a ribbon, written to her at various times during her childhood by her mother. The sight of her mother’s elegantly curving hand caused Saskia’s eyes to mist, but she dashed the tears impatiently away and put the bundle of letters firmly to one side. She would take them back to Riverside House and read them again when she was feeling less sensitive.

Next, she extracted a thick pouch and poured the contents onto the bed. Pieces of jewellery given to her over the years spilled forth. Some had belonged to her mother, and although of no intrinsic value, they were precious to her. She allowed the strands of beads to slide through her fingers, dust motes hovering above the shiny facets, and smiled at the memories the sight of them evoked. They were happy memories for once: her mother, laughing as she danced with her father the year before she died, these very same crystal beads sparkling about her neck; her mother smiling indulgently, wearing that mother-of-pearl brooch, as Saskia failed in her attempts to master the finer intricacies of embroidery.

A bundle of her childhood diaries tumbled from the sack next. She recalled painstakingly recording every detail of her daily routine in a childish hand, encouraged by her mother. The habit had never left her, and she kept a diary still, even to this day.

There were items of baby clothing, which had been the twins’ first garments. Assorted other treasures brought memories flooding back: her first music books, scraps of lace retained from gowns long since outgrown, a handkerchief made for her by her mother. Tears flooded her eyes as she handled each memento lovingly, wishing now that her childhood — the idyllic part before her mother’s death — could have lasted forever.

Saskia dried her eyes and pulled herself together. This wouldn’t do. She was ridiculously relieved that her treasure-trove had remained intact, safe from her father’s all- seeing eyes. Knowing that she’d scored this one little victory over him bolstered her confidence. Crying had helped, too, but she was uncertain whether she crying for the lost innocence of her youth, for the heart rending regret that was Felix, or simply because she felt sorry for herself.

Bundling the last of her treasures back into the sack, she encountered a small ledger, bound in black leather, which wasn’t familiar to her. She opened it and exclaimed aloud. It was filled with her father’s scrawled handwriting. It was impossible for her to say what the book contained, for her eyes were once again full of tears — this time tears of rage.

So, even her secret hiding place hadn’t been safe from him. She felt as though he’d just violated her all over again.

Calm at last, and determined to banish all thoughts of her father’s tyranny, Saskia continued to reacquaint herself with her treasures. So intent upon the task was she, that she didn’t realize she was no longer alone until a voice from the open doorway made her start violently.

“You, Mrs. Eden, are one devilishly difficult lady to catch up with.”

Looking up, Saskia gasped. “You!”

“Who else were you expecting?” Lord Snelling asked, strolling into the room. “Not Western? You don’t imagine that he had a serious attachment to you, surely? Western is known for his peccadilloes. Angelica Priestley is just the latest in a long line.” He saw the shock on Saskia’s face and laughed nastily. “Oh, don’t take offence, m’dear, I’m sure he found you attractive enough. But even if he was serious he could hardly offer for you now the truth about you is out, could he?” Snelling was prancing, cat-like, across the expanse that separated them, his eyes shining with very obvious intent. Saskia was suddenly afraid. To be alone in a bed-chamber with him, after everything she’d learned about his character? The consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

“Why did you do that to me?” she asked haughtily.

“Tell the truth about you, do you mean?” He shrugged. “You left me with no alternative, m’dear. Had you but listened to my generous and very reasonable proposition in the rose garden, it wouldn’t have been necessary. And so, you see, you brought it all on yourself.”

As Saskia looked up at him her spine tingled with fear…a fear which slowly crept through the rest of her body. There was something about the look in his eye, about the confidence beneath his studied nonchalance, that made her realize it wouldn’t be so easy to reject him this time. He was dangerous, accustomed to getting what he wanted. There could be no doubting that, for some reason, what he wanted was her. The naked hunger in his eyes was all the proof she needed to confirm her fears in that respect.

Saskia’s room was at the back of the house. Even if she screamed, the customs men out front wouldn’t hear her. Her only way out was to talk to him, she supposed, and to try to charm him into being reasonable.

“Well, I’m listening now, my lord. What did you wish to say to me?”

“That’s more like it.” He stopped in front of her and tilted her chin upwards, compelling her to look into his face. The feel of his fingers on her skin was abhorrent, but she forced herself not to shudder. “Now, m’dear, when I first saw you I had in mind just a short dalliance, but your spirited resistance is a challenge I find irresistible, and has endeared you to me. So I propose to set you up in London with a nice house, money, and education for your children.”

“Why would you do something so kind?”

Lord Snelling looked at her askance. “You honestly don’t understand.” He threw back his head and laughed. “M’dear, you’re charming!” When she still stared at him blankly, he had the goodness to explain. “You will be under my protection.”

“Nooooo!” Saskia couldn’t help it. She was shocked and appalled by the very suggestion and the outraged denial slipped from her lips before she could prevent it.

Snelling’s attitude changed to one of soft persuasion. “Come, come, m’dear, don’t imagine you can increase the stakes by pretending to be shocked. Besides, what’s your alternative?”

“To live here, just as I’ve always done.”

“What, in this backwater? I do not think so; that would be such a waste.” His voice was a soft purr as he took a step closer. “Just think of the splendid life you could live in London…all the time you continue to please me, that is.”

“Never!”

The disgust, the contemptuous vehemence of Saskia’s tone, engendered another abrupt change in Snelling’s mood. In a blind rage he lunged for her, but Saskia had been expecting something of the sort, and was ready for him. She employed her knee, just as she’d told Felix she’d intended to do in the Rose Garden. At the same time gouged her nails across his hateful face as viciously as she could manage.

He howled as he stumbled toward her. “You little bitch!” Then, inexplicably, a slow smile spread across his face. “So, that’s the way you want to play it?”

He continued to advance upon her, his eyes never leaving her face, his expression one of lustful anticipation. The floorboards Saskia had removed to access her treasures were still out of place, and Snelling, mindless of where he was walking, placed his foot plumb into the centre of the hole. He pulled it out with a feral growl and continued to advance. If he felt any pain he wasn’t making it evident, appearing to be more aroused than ever by her resistance. Saskia, now backed helplessly against the wall, looked frantically about, but there was nowhere else for her to go.

Felix’s unexpected arrival at Riverside House caused quite a stir. Upon learning that Saskia was alone at Southview Manor he determined to follow her thither, relieved that they would be able to conclude their long overdue conversation, free from interruption.

He was annoyed to be told by the customs men on guard that Saskia already had a visitor. Whoever it was, Felix decided as he ascended the stairs two at a time, had best be brief for he was in no mood to be hospitable — or to share Saskia with anyone else.

Still not sensing danger, Felix followed the sound of voices to the back of the first floor. Entering the room in question, the scene which greeted him caused him to stop dead in his tracks. Discovering that Snelling was there before him caused his blood to run cold. He had Saskia pinned on the bed, and was attempting to rip her bodice open with one hand whilst holding her down with the other.

She was putting up a spirited fight. In the split second that Felix stood motionless, she managed to land the index finger of her right hand in Snelling’s left eye. He swore profusely and slapped her face: a brutal blow.

Felix grabbed Snelling by the back of his coat and swung the smaller man round, his mouth gaping open stupidly in surprise. Felix punched him squarely on his jaw. Staggering from the force of the blow, Snelling half-heartedly tried to retaliate, but even had he been prepared for the confrontation, he would have been no match for his assailant. Felix landed a second blow to the side of Snelling’s head, whose legs crumpled beneath him as he fell to the floor. This time he wisely stayed down.

Felix was at Saskia’s side in a second, helping her to sit up.

“Are you all right? Did that bastard hurt you?”

Saskia looked at Felix for several moments before responding.

“I’m all right,” she said, eyes glued to his face. “And thank you for coming to my aid. You seem to be making a habit of it, but I can assure you that on this occasion I did nothing that could be construed as encouragement.”

“You’re entirely welcome, and I know that you didn’t.” Felix smiled at her, unaware that her insides melted at the soft expression in his eyes. “But still, I should have anticipated this,” he said, almost to himself, his features now set in a grim line.

“What?”

“Never mind. Just give me a moment to get rid of this mess,” he said, indicating the prostrate Snelling, “and then we will talk.”

It took no time at all for Felix to summon the guards from the front of the house. They unceremoniously bundled the semi-conscious Snelling into his carriage and ordered his coachman to take him home immediately, before charges could be preferred.