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Lucy didn’t miss the way her uncle’s face tightened at the mention of his son’s name, but before he could say anything Neville himself came sauntering into the room.
‘Well well, cousin Lucy,’ he drawled, eyeing her mockingly. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Your parents,’ she told him evenly, refusing to let him bait her. She knew quite well that he would still be angry with her over the sale of the Manor.
‘Lucy’s decided to move to London,’ his father told him.
‘Really?’ There was a distinct look of curiosity in his eyes as he studied her. ‘A sudden decision I take it?’
‘Not really. It’s something I’ve been thinking of for a while.’
‘And what will you do with the Dower House, when Saul sells?’ he asked her.
‘It isn’t decided yet that he will.’
‘No? It seems pretty conclusive to me. He’s gone back to America and according to that cleaning woman he employs he’s made no plans to come back. Fanny hasn’t seen or heard from him. He’s gone for good by the looks of it.’
Gone… Saul was gone.
The coffee cup she had just picked up seemed like a dead weight in her hands. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to cry out in protest that Saul wouldn’t leave without telling her, but everything seemed to be shifting out of focus around her; she tried to cry out and found that her vocal chords seemed to be paralysed. A strange roaring sound engulfed her, the blackness into which she was falling punctuated by her aunt’s sharp cry, and then nothing…
* * *
She came round to find she was lying on the chaise longue in her uncle’s study. There was no sign of Neville but her aunt and uncle were both hovering anxiously beside her.
‘Lucy, my dear, thank goodness. We were just about to send for the doctor. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine… I’m fine. There’s no need to send for anyone,’ Lucy protested, trying to sit up and finding weakly that she could not. ‘It was just a faint.’
‘Maybe… It is a warm day, and of course you must have been shocked to learn that Saul intends to sell the house without so much as discussing it with you, but my dear, you look so thin and fine-drawn… I really…’
Firmly Lucy brushed aside her aunt’s concern, assuring her that she was perfectly all right, and at last, although unwillingly, that lady gave in.
‘Very well, but I absolutely insist that you spend the night here at the very least.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ Quickly she explained about Pasha, her feline charge.
‘A Siamese! I’ve always loved them,’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘Well that’s no problem. He can stay as well.’
She wanted to protest, to insist that she was perfectly all right, but all at once it required too much effort. It would be lovely to stay here and be pampered by her aunt. Knowing she was being weak, but totally unable to stop herself, Lucy gave her uncle instructions as to how to find her flat, handing him the key while her aunt gave him instructions as to what Lucy and Pasha would need.
To tell the truth she hadn’t been feeling well for the past few days. Initially she had put her inertia and lack of desire to eat down to the fact that she was too wrought up over her quarrel with Saul, but as the days had gone by and her appetite had continued to desert her a heavy listlessness had seemed to envelop her.
It was delicious to simply lie back and be saved the necessity of making any decision, of doing anything other than be pampered. That alone told Lucy how seriously depleted her physical and emotional resources must be. Normally she was so independent and self-reliant. For some reason she felt acutely weepy, gladly accepting Margaret’s suggestion that she simply lie quietly in the cool of the study until her uncle got back.
In the event, what was to have been merely an overnight stay stretched into nearly a week, with Margaret resolutely stating that she was far from well enough to be living alone and Lucy weakly giving in and enjoying her aunt’s cosseting.
It was a long time since she had been so thoroughly spoiled, the calm atmosphere of the riverside house and the placidness of its two semi-elderly inhabitants having a beneficial effect on her over-stretched nerves.
If it wasn’t for the lassitude that continued to envelop her Lucy thought she might have felt more inclined to make a move back to her flat, but every time she said as much she found herself thoroughly overruled.
When she remarked to her uncle one morning that she felt very guilty for causing her aunt so much work, he replied with a twinkle in his eyes that Margaret was enjoying keeping busy.
