‘Get in the house now.’ He had lowered his voice, but it held a threat of further recriminations to come. Sophia didn’t hesitate, and ducking under her father’s outstretched arm she raced towards the house. Her mother waved, attempting to intervene, and Sophia heard her father’s stern voice speak his wife.
‘No, Sylvia. I will deal with this.’
Sophia went straight to her room and shut the door. With a bit of luck, her father would see it as his duty to entertain his guests before deciding on her punishment for missing the fete. Sophia slipped off her shoes and stepped out of her soiled dress and petticoat. She poured water into a bowl and sluiced her face and shoulders and washed her hands with lavender-scented soap. The cool water felt good on her flushed cheeks which still glowed pink. Once freshened, she picked out a clean petticoat and a plain blue frock edged with lace. She began to slip on her petticoat when the door opened and her father walked in. Sophia attempted to cover her embarrassing state of undress and pulled the petticoat up too quickly, causing the delicate material to rip.
Leo eyed her approvingly. My, she was beautiful, as beautiful as Amy at the same age, if not more so. Sophia’s golden hair, lighter than her mother’s, was as lustrous as Amy’s, falling in soft curls, shimmering like satin. Her eyebrows were pale like his, apt to bleach in the sun. Leo smiled proudly. Oh, how he loved her.
Sophia saw her father’s smile and mistook it to mean she’d been let off the hook. Feeling relieved she pulled up her petticoat and began to adjust the narrow ribbon of lace around her bosom.
‘Leave it undone,’ Leo said softly.
Sophia looked up surprised and tried to read his meaning. She stood passively before him, knowing to argue would incur further disapproval.
‘Where were you this afternoon, Sophia?’ Leo approached her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
‘I went to visit Lillian, her mother’s ill,’ Sophia answered, lying without hesitation, knowing Lillian would back her up.
‘That’s funny; Lillian was at the fete looking for you.’ Leo raised one eyebrow and looked at her quizzically.
‘I know. We missed each other. I went through Oakham Wood.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth Sophia could have kicked herself.
Leo chose to ignore it. ‘Did you meet anyone in the wood?’
Sophia hesitated, only for a second, but it was enough to cast doubt on her sincerity. ‘No,’ she said looking away.
Leo gripped her shoulders hard. ‘Liar, you were seen with Freddie Brock.’ Sophia’s face paled and Leo knew his suspicions were justified. A rage boiled up inside him born of possession and jealousy. Without a word, he lifted his daughter and carried her to the bed. With one pull Leo tore her petticoat open. Breathing heavily he gazed at Sophia’s small soft breasts and felt as though he had been transported back in time. He leaned over and sucked hard on one rosy tip, sneering when he heard Sophia gasp.
Sophia struggled but was unable to shift his weight as he bore down on top of her. ‘No Daddy, please don’t.’ Sophia squirmed in repulsion as he began to nuzzle and kiss her ear. She tried to push him away and pleaded with him to stop. Tears trickled down her face and she sobbed uncontrollably. Screaming she cried out, ‘Please don’t do this. I promise I won’t see Freddie again.’ Terrified, Sophia watched her father’s expression change.
Leo’s lecherous eyes, glazed with lust, suddenly cleared as if waking from a dream. He looked at her and shook his head slowly. A sudden realisation dawned on him and his stomach churned. ‘No! No! No!’ Leo shouted.
Sophia didn’t see the raised hand but felt the sharp pain as her father’s fist punched the side of her face. She tried to climb away but each blow knocked her back down onto the bed until all she could do was curl up into a tight ball. The beating continued until Leo had exhausted all his frustrations.
‘You’ll not see Freddie Brock ever again, do you hear me? I absolutely forbid it.’ Leo staggered from Sophia’s room, shouting back at her, ‘Never again, do you hear me?’
***
Sylvia Deverell stood at the door of her room across the landing and watched her husband leave their daughter’s room. She pressed her silk handkerchief to her lips with trembling hands. She didn’t want to believe what she had overhead and seen. Sylvia shuddered and stepped back into her room, out of sight as the top of Leo’s head passed her on his way down the stairs. If only she had stayed in her room and not gone looking for her husband. She felt jealous on occasions when Leo bestowed so much attention upon Sophia but she had never imagined this. No, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t think of her in that way. Sylvia trembled with the horror of it.
As soon as Leo reached the ground floor Sylvia moved across the landing and opened the door to her daughter’s room. What she saw stopped her in her tracks and she made no attempt to enter.
Sophia lay outstretched on the bed. Her bodice was undone and her small naked breasts were exposed. Her petticoats were bunched up around her thighs and exposed her stockings, and above them her bare white flesh looked pinched and bruised. Sophia’s lips were bleeding; spots of blood dotted the pillowcase. Her face was red, her jaw raw.
Sophia whimpered and cried for help; a single word, ‘Mummy.’
The sight and sound brought tears to Sylvia’s eyes. She wanted to rush to the girl’s aid and comfort her, but Sylvia’s feet were made of lead. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, words refused to form in her mouth. Her husband and daughter’s full betrayal began to sink in. Sylvia reached for the door knob to steady herself. This girl, she thought, had been taken into their household and showered with love, and this is how she repaid them, by destroying their marriage. Irrationally Sylvia blamed and hated Sophia almost as much as she hated her husband.
Sylvia stepped away from the door and closed it quietly. She went back to her room and rang for her maid, Clara Potts. She knew she must act quickly. Sylvia thought through excuses which would warrant her sudden departure. She rang again for Clara, almost shaking the bell pull off the wall.
***
Sophia lay on the bed shocked and unable to move. Had she imagined it? Had her father really intended to rape her? Shivering, she gradually eased herself up into a sitting position and slid off the bed. Her head began to spin and bile rose up into her throat and she knew she was going to be sick. From the water jug she dampened a flannel and held the cold cloth to her face. A glance in the mirror showed a cut lip. Sophia pushed back her hair and noticed the bruises on her face and neck. Feeling sore and stiff she dressed as quickly as she could, worried in case her father should return.
Sophia knew her father well enough to know he never made idle threats, so it was imperative she warn Freddie. Pulling on her boots Sophia grabbed her coat and opened her bedroom door. The landing was empty. Sophia stumbled down the staircase, into the kitchen and out of the house without a backward glance.
***
‘Pritchard, Pritchard! Damn you man, why are you never around when I need you?’ Yet always skulking close by when I don’t, Leo thought, exasperated. The main staircase descended into a large entrance hall and underneath the stairs were two doors. One led down to the wine cellar and the other to the kitchen, which was where Pritchard spent most of his time, polishing boots and arranging menus with his wife. Leo opened the cellar door and bellowed down the wooden stairs into the gloom. ‘Pritchard,’ he called. Below him it was as quiet as it was black. No sign of light from a lamp shone back and Leo slammed the door shut, his anger mounting. ‘Where is the man?’ he muttered.
The warmth from the ovens enveloped him as he entered the kitchen, and for a second he was back to his boyhood days when he and his brother and sister would sit beside the great fire eating treats the cook had made for them. Dora Stoakley. Leo smiled, remembering the hugs and the lovely pastry smell which emanated from her as her big round bosom smothered him. Dora had moved to Dorset to live with her sister when she felt she could no longer carry on, and Molly had taken over.
Molly Pritchard was a completely different kettle of fish. From a skinny milkmaid she’d grown tall and thin with narrow shoulders and no bosom whatsoever. Her small brown eyes protruded above a narrow pointed nose, creating a rat-like appearance, and Leo half expected to see whiskers sprouting out of the side of her face. She looked at him now suspiciously, no doubt wondering what the master was doing in her kitchen.
‘I’ve been calling for your husband for the last fifteen minutes. What is the point of having a butler when he’s never around when I need him? Where is he?’ Leo placed his hands on the kitchen table and leaned over it towards the woman.
‘I’m not sure,’ Molly stammered. ‘He went out about half an hour ago, but should be back soon.’ Flour from the pastry she was rolling out trimmed the edges of Leo’s cuffs, and sensing his sour mood she decided not to tell him.
Suddenly the outside door to the kitchen opened and Tom Pritchard walked in. Whistling and preoccupied he hung his coat on a hook, unaware of Leo watching, waiting for him.
‘Pritchard, when you’re quite finished I have a job for you. Follow me immediately.’ Leo stormed out of the kitchen leaving Pritchard open-mouthed. He hurried after Leo, apologising profusely.
‘Find the Brock boy and quickly. Bring him to me and if possible don’t let anyone else see you with him,’ Leo demanded.
Pritchard frowned, not quite comprehending. ‘Freddie Brock, you want him here at Tapscott Manor?’ This was a turn up for the books, he thought.
‘Yes, and when you’ve found him take him down to the cellar and lock him in. Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it,’ Leo said.
An hour later Pritchard was back with Freddie in tow. ‘Mr Deverell has asked that you wait in the cellar, son,’ he said kindly. He had no argument with the boy. He liked the Brock family and Charlie had been a good friend to him when he’d first arrived to work at the Manor. ‘I will let Mr Deverell know you are waiting for him. I won’t be long.’
‘Can’t I wait in the hall?’ Freddie looked around. It was dark in the cellar and cold. The lamp Pritchard held gave off a small circle of light, enough to lift the gloom, and he hoped Pritchard didn’t intend taking the lamp with him.
‘No, sorry son, Mr Deverell particularly asked I show you in here. He has a job for you. I’m sure he won’t be long. Do you want me to leave the lamp?’ Pritchard smiled, reading the young boy’s face.
‘Yes thanks,’ Freddie said gratefully.
Pritchard walked up the stairs carrying the lamp to show the way. When he reached the top he opened the door leading into the hall and then set the lamp down on the top stair and shut the door behind him.
Freddie heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. He bounded up the stairs and tried the handle; it didn’t budge. He was locked in. Freddie carried the lamp back down the stairs and found himself an empty barrel to sit on. He tried to imagine what Sophia would be doing now.
***
Sophia searched everywhere for Freddie. She looked in the gardens and then skirted the edge of the wood, not wanting to go in alone. She decided to try his home and ran all the way to Lilac Cottage, praying she’d find Freddie there.
Emily Brock, Freddie’s younger sister, looked at her doubtfully. ‘Freddie?’ she repeated. ‘Isn’t he with you?’ Emily sniffed her disapproval.
Sophia looked past the girl into the house, hoping to see Mrs Brock. She knew Emily resented her friendship with Freddie so she didn’t expect any help from her.
‘What have you done to your face?’ Emily asked, noticing the bruises.
‘I fell over.’ Sophia pulled a length of her hair, attempting to hide the side of her face.
‘Anyway he’s not here.’ Emily started to close the door. ‘He hasn’t been back all afternoon.’ She looked Sophia up and down before shutting the door in her face.
Sophia was tempted to knock again. She stood outside the door for a few more minutes before reluctantly walking away. Sophia couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. She’d already looked in all the stables at Tapscott Manor, making sure she kept well out of sight of the windows in the main building. She couldn’t go back to Tapscott Manor, ever. Well not tonight, she thought defiantly.
There was one person Sophia knew she could depend on and that was Nanny Farrell. Sophia stepped into the shadows of the wood, leaving behind the fading westerly sun. Darkness enfolded her and Sophia hurried through the wood, not daring to look behind her until she saw the roof of Primrose Cottage. She stopped to catch her breath then pushed her way through a narrow gap in the hedge. A light flickered in the kitchen window and Sophia brightened.
Sophia didn’t bother to knock. She had been visiting Lillian and her mother since she was a tiny child and knew Primrose Cottage as well as Tapscott Manor. Sophia even had her own room and could remember Lillian’s excitement when she took her into the room to see it. The paintwork was fresh and new curtains had been put up at the window. ‘This is your room,’ Lillian had said. ‘You can treat Primrose Cottage as your second home and come and stay with us whenever you like.’
Sophia pushed open the kitchen door and walked into the cottage.
‘Hello, and to what do we owe to this pleasure,’ Lillian said when she saw Sophia. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, and seeing how late it was she looked back at her niece in surprise.
Her greeting was met with a cry of anguish. ‘Oh Lillian, something terrible has happened and I can’t find Freddie anywhere. My father will kill him, I know he will, and it’s my entire fault.’ Sophia sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs at the kitchen table and began to sob uncontrollably.
Lillian took in Sophia’s bedraggled appearance with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her lip was cut and a crust of blood caked a jagged line around her mouth. Around her right eye a bluish bruise was steadily darkening. Keeping her voice low so as not to disturb her mother, Lillian made an attempt to comfort her.