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Just outside Bath, Jay turned off the main road, and drove in through an imposing gateway. Only a discreet plaque set into one of the brick pillars supporting the wrought iron gates betrayed that this was a hotel.
Beyond an avenue of bare trees Claire saw the house: soft cream Cotswold stone, the precision of a Georgian facade.
A high wall joined what Claire suspec
ted had originally been the stable block to the main building, and Heather called out delightedly, ‘Look … it’s just like The Secret Garden!’
‘Look, Mummy, horses!’ Lucy, wide-eyed, tugged on her sleeve as she pressed her nose to the car window. In a paddock opposite the house several horses had gathered by the fence.
‘There’s a riding school here,’ explained Jay. ‘Lessons can be arranged for the guests.’
‘Does that mean that we can ride?’ breathed Lucy expectantly.
Since their removal to the country, Lucy had developed an intense passion for horses and ponies, and Claire suppressed a faint sigh. ‘Riding lessons are very expensive, Lucy,’ Claire cautioned, ‘and besides, Heather might not want to ride.’
‘Yes, I do. I’d like a pony of my own. We both would.’
‘I think we’re the victims of a two-pronged attack,’ Jay murmured soto voce to Claire, but she saw that he was smiling. ‘We probably won’t have time for riding lessons while we’re here,’ he told them, ignoring the protests of disappointment. ‘But maybe … maybe … if you’re both very good, Father Christmas …’
It was enough to produce ecstatic sighs of anticipation, and to keep them quiet as Jay stopped the car, and got out to go round and open Claire’s door.
‘Don’t worry about the luggage. Someone will come out for it. Come on, you two,’ he called to the girls as they paused to give wistful glances in the direction of the paddock.
‘Heather’s growing,’ he murmured to Claire.
‘Mmm. They both are,’ but because, obviously, no one had paid any attention to Heather’s wardrobe for quite a long time, her skirt was well above her small knees. ‘It’s going to prove an expensive couple of days,’ Claire warned Jay. ‘Both of them need new school clothes. Of course, I’ll pay for Lucy’s, but …’
‘No.’
The sudden, unexpected pressure of his fingers on her arm shocked her into immobility. He was close enough for her to see the fine lines fanning out from his eyes—eyes that had gone cold and dark with anger. When he was like this he could be very forbidding indeed, she thought, noticing the way his mouth had hardened.
‘No, Claire,’ he said in a softer tone. ‘I told you that from now on, financially, Lucy would be my responsibility, and I meant it. That’s part of my contribution to our marriage; please don’t deprive me of making it. I don’t want to feel beholden to you any more than you do to me, you know. We’re partners in this—equal partners.’
She knew that he was right.
He released her arm and she shivered suddenly, missing the protection of his tall body as he moved away from her, and a cold wind bit through her thin jacket.
‘Come on, let’s get inside; it’s cold out here. Come on, you two,’ he called to the girls. ‘You can admire your new friends later.’
It was an odd sensation to have someone concerned for her comfort after being independent and alone for so long, even if he was only being courteous.
Inside, the hotel retained much of its countryhouse flavour. A smiling receptionist handed Jay a key, and called for a porter to show them the way to their suite. She was a pretty girl with blonde hair and nice teeth, and the way she smiled at Jay reminded Claire of just how sexually attractive he was. That knowledge seemed to heighten her own sense of inadequacy reminding her sharply of all that she wasn’t and never could be.
But it was because of the things that she was that Jay was marrying her, she reminded herself firmly, and not the things she was not.
Their suite was magnificent: a sitting-room and three bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom, coordinated throughout in toning shades of French blue and terracotta. Here were several ideas she could copy for their own guest suites, and for the house itself, Claire reflected, making a closer examination of some decorative faux marbling on the door frames.
‘What do you think of it?’ Jay asked her, strolling over to join her as she studied the attractive décor of the sitting-room.
‘It’s lovely!’
‘Yes. It certainly should be; they’ve spent a fortune on renovating the place.’ He moved past her to look more closely at the delicate plasterwork on one of the walls, and instantly Claire realised.
‘It’s yours, isn’t it? The plasterwork …’
He was grinning hugely, looking almost carefree.
‘Yes, and the columns that have been marbled. I like the way they’ve done this, don’t you?’ he asked her, indicating a panel on the wall where the decorative plasterwork inside it had been delicately tinged in a soft terracotta fading to palest peach. ‘I wonder how they do it.’
