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The weekend brought a forecast snap of cold weather, lowering the temperature and freezing the countryside in an icy grip. One afternoon when Dominic was expected to visit her mother, they received a telephone call to say that he had been delayed because of a major road accident just outside Setondale.
‘Dr Savage had gone to the hospital with the ambulances,’ the receptionist told Christy. ‘He may have to stay to help out in the operating theatre, but I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I know anything.’
Christy’s mother shivered slightly when Christy told her. ‘Poor souls; I only hope that all of them are all right.’
‘What I can’t understand is why Dominic chose to come back here,’ Christy mused, following her own private thoughts. ‘He’s so well qualified he could work anywhere…’
‘Setondale is his home, Christy,’ her mother told her gently. ‘His father and his grandfather both practised here.’
‘Well, I can’t see Amanda settling down to live in Setondale.’ She said it crossly, not wanting to admit even to herself how much she envied Lady Anthony’s god-daughter. She was far too sensible to deceive herself that if Amanda hadn’t been around, Dominic might have…
Might have what? Fallen in love with her? She grimaced slightly to herself. Sexually she might be able to arouse him, but emotionally Dominic felt nothing for her…nothing at all.
When the receptionist rang through later in the afternoon to say that Dominic would not be able to visit the house until the following day, Christy told herself that it was a good thing that she had an appointment with the florist that would take her out of the house. She didn’t want to see Dominic.
So why the feeling of disappointment and pain gathering deep inside her?
Because she was too foolish to be able to stop herself from loving him and yearning after him like a stupid adolescent, Christy derided herself bitterly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO DAYS before the ball they had snow. Christy was in a fever of panic when she woke up and saw the ominous colour of the sky, and the white blanket already lying inches deep outside.
‘Don’t worry,’ her mother consoled her when she confided to her her dread that the ball would be poorly attended because of the weather. ‘Folks around here are tough. They won’t let a little thing like a snowfall put them off.’
Although she was normally a good patient, over the last few days her mother had been extremely restless. The locum who had called to see her in Dominic’s stead had pronounced that this was a good sign which showed that she was recovering well, but he had still counselled plenty of rest and no excitement.
‘It’s not fair,’ she grumbled lightly now. ‘I’m missing out on all the fun.’
The ‘fun’ to her mother meant the organisation, Christy recognised, suppressing a small smile, inwardly sympathising with her parent even while outwardly she remained obdurate about allowing her to do anything.
Already a brainwave of her mother’s earlier in the week had resulted in Christy haring off to Newcastle with her father to buy as many heart-shaped tins and moulds as she could get her hands on. Members of the WI had been exhorted to search through their cupboards for these receptacles, so that a variety of heart-shaped desserts could be provided in tune with the theme of the evening.
Lady Anthony had very generously made the enormous kitchens at the Manor available to those members of the local community who were responsible for preparing the buffet, and Christy knew that her mother positively ached to be down there among them.
The colour scheme for the evening was pink and silver against a background of white. An inspired and totally unexpected, not to say generous, gift of a hundred metallic silver heart-shaped balloons had arrived by post from Meryl earlier in the week—she had spotted them in one of the Knightsbridge gift shops, she had informed Christy over the telephone, and had promptly bought their entire stock.
Meryl sounded so happy and bubbling over with self-confidence that Christy felt it was safe to ask her how things were.
‘Fantastic,’ she had told her promptly. ‘The news that he’s to be a father once more has stunned David. He’s thrilled, of course, but he insists on treating me like fragile crystal.’
‘And you’re complaining?’
‘Not really. Which reminds me, when junior does arrive, I shall require you to be godmama.’
Luckily the snow stopped falling just before lunch.
‘I’m supposed to be meeting the florist at the Manor this afternoon,’ Christy told her mother as they shared the soup she had made. ‘I don’t know whether to cancel it.’
‘Just as long as you aren’t contemplating driving yourself there you should be all right. Why don’t you give the florist’s a ring, and if they’re still keen to go, order a taxi.’
Christy took her mother’s advice. The woman who owned and ran the local flower shop confirmed that she was prepared to drive out to the Manor, and as they arranged that morning Christy’s father arrived home to sit with the invalid.
‘Honestly, you don’t need to do this now,’ Sarah Marsden protested. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Christy agreed firmly, ‘because we won’t let it. Dad and I both know what would happen if we left you alone. You’d be out of bed and down in the kitchen in no time at all.’
Because the snow was fresh the taxi had no difficulty in getting through to the Manor. Christy got out and paid the driver, tensing as she saw Dominic’s car draw up and park.
She had to wait for change, and she saw Dominic get out, his dark head bare, his hair ruffled by the chill breeze. He looked at her without smiling, his expression almost brooding in intensity. She longed to go up to him and touch him…just touch him, nothing else. Who are you kidding? she asked herself bitterly; nothing but knowing that he loved her with the same direct intensity with which she loved him would ever be enough to satisfy the ache inside her.
‘You look pale. Are you feeling all right?’
She hadn’t seen him move, and she swung round, feeling vulnerable and shaky, her fear of revealing her vulnerability to him making her sound terse and remote.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look it. It must be the strain of loving a man who is committed to someone else.’
She was too shocked to conceal her expression from him. Her face went white, her eyes enormous pools of agonised pain.
‘Christy, I…’ He spoke almost roughly, his own eyes darkening, his voice harsh as he demanded thickly, ‘Is it really worth it? Why don’t you give him up? Let his wife…’
She almost sagged with relief as she realised what he meant. For one dreadful moment there she had thought he had guessed…that he had known how she felt about him.
A small van was bumping down the lane towards them, and she pulled away, just as the front door of the Manor opened and Amanda came out.
She was wearing a silk dress that emphasised the slimness of her legs and the full curves of her breasts. Mentally comparing her elegant appearance with her own cord and jumper-clad body, Christy only just managed to suppress a faint sigh. No wonder Dominic was hurrying towards the other woman. She wondered if he realised yet that Amanda wanted more than the same sort of casual affair he had offered her. Or perhaps where Amanda was concerned he was prepared to offer more.
‘Sorry if I’m late…’
Wrenching her attention away from the couple walking ahead of them into the house, Christy turned to greet the woman hurrying to join her.
The front door had been firmly closed behind Amanda and Dominic, and Christy wondered if Amanda had simply not realised that they were there or was deliberately trying to be rude.
Lady Anthony herself showed them up to the ballroom, rather to Christy’s surprise. She moved a little awkwardly, no doubt because of her arthritis, but it was still possible to see traces of the girl she must once have been.
Louise Fisher from the flower shop nodded her approval when she saw th
e room. She and Christy had already discussed what she intended to do, and Christy had shown her the balloons that Meryl had sent.
‘You know, it’s a real challenge to do something like this… And what a beautiful room.’
She went on to discuss how she intended to decorate it while Christy and Lady Anthony listened.
‘The last ball held here was for my husband’s twenty-first,’ Lady Anthony told them. For a moment a sad expression haunted her eyes. ‘He was killed at the beginning of the war.’
‘Yes, so the Major told me,’ Christy responded.
Almost instantly Lady Anthony withdrew into herself, her expression hardening. ‘My father told him he was never to set foot in this house again.’
