that expressionless voice. “But I have stood enough this day. I am going to my room.”
He caught hold of her arms in a painful grip, moved by some impulse he couldn’t begin to fathom. She looked up at him with those enormous eyes, and her childish mouth trembled.
He pulled her close and bent his head, and his mouth closed savagely over hers. A wave of passion broke over the pair of them, and they kissed and kissed and kissed as if they could never stop, while the winter wind moaned around the old castle and the three wives of the late earl stared down with their painted eyes.
He suddenly shoved her roughly away from him.
“You tart!” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I must be mad!”
It was the final straw for poor Susie. She collapsed into the armchair by the fire and, covering her face with her hands, she wept bitterly for a youth and innocence that had seemed to have been snatched from her, from fear at the ever-encompassing walls of this gothic nightmare.
“Dr. and Mrs. Burke,” announced Thomson, the butler, from the doorway.
Giles stared at the middle-aged couple, who stared back. They looked the epitome of suburban respectability. There was a long silence. A log crackled in the grate, and the tapestries moved gently on the walls, making the embroidered green and gold figures of the huntsmen seem to come to life.
Then Thomson gave a discreet cough. “My lady’s parents, my lord.”
Then the tableau sprang to life.
“Mama!” cried Susie pathetically, rushing into that lady’s arms.
“My lord?” Dr. Burke strutted pompously forward. “This is a sad blow to our little girl. We were unable to get here sooner. The roads, you know.”
In one blinding, awful moment Giles realized that all that his uncle had told him about Susie was a complete fabrication. The girl was as innocent as she looked.
He numbly rang for the housekeeper and told Mrs. Wight to prepare rooms for the unexpected guests. He watched the still-weeping Susie being led off by her mother and turned his suddenly weary attention to Dr. Burke.
“Allow me to offer you a brandy, Doctor,” he said. “You must be cold after your journey.”
“Very kind of you, my lord,” said Dr. Burke, beaming. “Very kind, my lord. Such thoughtfulness, my lord.”
Snob
, thought Giles,
but no blackmailer. Oh, dear!
Upstairs, Mrs. Burke was in her element, sending servants flying hither and thither to fetch every comfort for her daughter, from stone hot water bottles to put at her feet to ice packs to put on her head.
The servants were inclined to be condescending, but got short shrift from Mrs. Burke. It was not for nothing that she had broken in several gauche parlormaids and a recalcitrant Camberwell cook-housekeeper. Bursting with energy despite her fatiguing journey, she lectured the sullen servants on the Christian duties of obedience and threatened them with the everlasting torments of hellfire should they disobey.
Felicity’s acid lady’s maid, who had nosed into Susie’s bedroom out of curiosity, was roundly told to take her insolent face away and to take some powders for her liver, which was obviously disordered. Mrs. Burke was vulgar in the extreme, but she was magnificent, and Susie lay gratefully back against the cool, fresh linen of the pillows and let it all wash over her.
Eventually, after boring Giles with a long list of platitudes, Dr. Burke dropped in to say good night.
Downstairs, Giles paced nervously up and down with a replenished glass of brandy in his hand. Giles was no saint. He was a normal, healthy British aristocrat. Therefore he reacted normally to the discovery that he had behaved like a cad and that Susie’s parents were respectable after all.
It was all the spineless girl’s fault, he decided. Couldn’t she have opened her silly mouth and
told
him something? How could she, mocked his conscience, when her mouth was so efficiently covered by your own?
“I am going abroad,
He caught hold of her arms in a painful grip, moved by some impulse he couldn’t begin to fathom. She looked up at him with those enormous eyes, and her childish mouth trembled.
He pulled her close and bent his head, and his mouth closed savagely over hers. A wave of passion broke over the pair of them, and they kissed and kissed and kissed as if they could never stop, while the winter wind moaned around the old castle and the three wives of the late earl stared down with their painted eyes.
He suddenly shoved her roughly away from him.
“You tart!” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I must be mad!”
It was the final straw for poor Susie. She collapsed into the armchair by the fire and, covering her face with her hands, she wept bitterly for a youth and innocence that had seemed to have been snatched from her, from fear at the ever-encompassing walls of this gothic nightmare.
“Dr. and Mrs. Burke,” announced Thomson, the butler, from the doorway.
Giles stared at the middle-aged couple, who stared back. They looked the epitome of suburban respectability. There was a long silence. A log crackled in the grate, and the tapestries moved gently on the walls, making the embroidered green and gold figures of the huntsmen seem to come to life.
Then Thomson gave a discreet cough. “My lady’s parents, my lord.”
Then the tableau sprang to life.
“Mama!” cried Susie pathetically, rushing into that lady’s arms.
“My lord?” Dr. Burke strutted pompously forward. “This is a sad blow to our little girl. We were unable to get here sooner. The roads, you know.”
In one blinding, awful moment Giles realized that all that his uncle had told him about Susie was a complete fabrication. The girl was as innocent as she looked.
He numbly rang for the housekeeper and told Mrs. Wight to prepare rooms for the unexpected guests. He watched the still-weeping Susie being led off by her mother and turned his suddenly weary attention to Dr. Burke.
“Allow me to offer you a brandy, Doctor,” he said. “You must be cold after your journey.”
“Very kind of you, my lord,” said Dr. Burke, beaming. “Very kind, my lord. Such thoughtfulness, my lord.”
Snob
, thought Giles,
but no blackmailer. Oh, dear!
Upstairs, Mrs. Burke was in her element, sending servants flying hither and thither to fetch every comfort for her daughter, from stone hot water bottles to put at her feet to ice packs to put on her head.
The servants were inclined to be condescending, but got short shrift from Mrs. Burke. It was not for nothing that she had broken in several gauche parlormaids and a recalcitrant Camberwell cook-housekeeper. Bursting with energy despite her fatiguing journey, she lectured the sullen servants on the Christian duties of obedience and threatened them with the everlasting torments of hellfire should they disobey.
Felicity’s acid lady’s maid, who had nosed into Susie’s bedroom out of curiosity, was roundly told to take her insolent face away and to take some powders for her liver, which was obviously disordered. Mrs. Burke was vulgar in the extreme, but she was magnificent, and Susie lay gratefully back against the cool, fresh linen of the pillows and let it all wash over her.
Eventually, after boring Giles with a long list of platitudes, Dr. Burke dropped in to say good night.
Downstairs, Giles paced nervously up and down with a replenished glass of brandy in his hand. Giles was no saint. He was a normal, healthy British aristocrat. Therefore he reacted normally to the discovery that he had behaved like a cad and that Susie’s parents were respectable after all.
It was all the spineless girl’s fault, he decided. Couldn’t she have opened her silly mouth and
told
him something? How could she, mocked his conscience, when her mouth was so efficiently covered by your own?
“I am going abroad,
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