Sins of Sarah (45 page)

Hastings looked so peaceful in the late afternoon sun-shine, and despite his fears about Charles he smiled with pleasure at the beauty of the building that was so familiar to him. The forecourt was empty of cars as he pulled up, and he frowned. Charles, at least, always left his car out until early evening in case he needed it.

Frustrated, he pulled at the handle that operated the front doorbell and then with relief heard footsteps clicking across the stone floor of the hall. Too light for Mrs Johnson, and certainly not Charles ... He hoped for a moment - but then he met the startled gaze of one of the cleaning ladies who helped Mrs Johnson.

'Iris? Is Sir Charles at home?' he asked as she recognized him and moved aside to let him in.

'No, Mr Grey.' Iris looked puzzled. 'They're away. Sir Charles and Miss Campbell, that is, but I can make up your room for you - it's no trouble.'

'That's OK, Iris, I'm not staying overnight.' Nick swallowed his apprehension. 'But I could do with some tea?' 'Of course! I'll bring it to the drawing room, shall I?'

'No, I'll come down to the kitchen and see Mrs J, since I'm here.' He was gambling on the kindly housekeeper being able to help him find Sarah, but he was in for a disappointment.

'Mrs Johnson has gone to her sister's for a few days,' Iris told him as she made tea, glad of a chance to put her feet up. 'And Bernard is at the London flat tonight.'

'And you don't know where they've gone?' 'No.' She shook her head. 'They've been away a few weeks now. Lovely lady. Miss Campbell - so kind. But then you'd know that, of course! Bernard thinks they're getting married and I wouldn't be surprised if Sir Charles has whisked her off to do it - so romantic, don't you think?'

'I'm sorry I missed them.' Nick fought to stay calm, wondering helplessly what he was going to do now. They could be anywhere in the world. 'Would anyone know where they are, do you suppose?' 'Well . . .' Iris thought for a moment. 'Mr Saunders might. He always comes over late afternoon to check the horses for Sir Charles, he might know.'

'Rupert! Of course! Charles would never go off without being in contact over the horses. I'll phone him now.'

'No need - he'll probably be over in a minute. He usually pops in for a cup of tea before he goes home. Put your feet up and wait for him. You look real tired, if you don't mind me saying so.' He did mind, but he didn't dare tell her so and upset her feelings.

'I'm fine, Iris,' he groaned. 'Look, I'll just go upstairs and collect a few things. I won't be long. Call me if Rupert comes in, will you?' He went up to his room and tossed the clothing he normally kept there into the bag from the bottom of the wardrobe. He had left Regent's Park with only an over-night bag, and his practical side told him this would save having to go back to collect clothes. Then his emotional side took over, and as he sank down onto the bed in a weary gesture.

Just to touch the smooth silk of the bedcover reminded him of Sarah, and the number of times he had made love to her in this bed. He had used this room for years, ever since he and Charles had been promoted from the nursery, and everything in it was achingly familiar. He looked around with regret - there was no doubt in his mind now that this would be his last visit to Hastings, whatever the outcome of his search for Sarah.

At least Iris had confirmed the suspicions he'd had all along, that Sarah was with Charles - but in what capacity had she gone with him? Nick was tortured with the knowledge that he could well be too late, and almost at the point of being too weak to cope with it. Then he shook himself furiously. He would get nowhere behaving like a defeatist - he would sort things out. It was totally out of character for him to give up on anything. He was going to sort things out - get Sarah back - somehow.

'Nick! Nick, old chap, where are you?' Suddenly Rupert's booming voice intruded on his reverie and he jumped up in shock, calling back his whereabouts in as cheery a tone as he could manage.

Rupert, however, was not one to be fooled easily. 'Jesus, Nick!' he commented after one glance. 'At last your rowdy lifestyle has caught up with you. You look ready to drop!' Nick was inclined to snap, but he needed Rupert so he held back and explained his illness and the reason for his visit to Hastings.

Rupert dropped his considerable bulk onto the window seat. Both Nick and Charles had been his friends since childhood, and his loyalties were very torn between the two of them. 'Charlie asked me not to tell anyone where they were,' he explained.

'But they are together?' Nick strode the room in frustration, realizing he had been right all along to follow up Charles.

'Yes, Nick, they are.' Rupert looked puzzled. 'I had no idea you and Sarah were still an item, though.'

'I intend to marry her,' Nick said. 'Once I can disentangle myself from Diana. We were just keeping it under wraps for a bit longer, until I finished in Brazil.'

'Well, divorcing Diana won't be easy.' Rupert certainly knew Diana's attitude to divorce.

'No, but whatever it costs I'll pay! I'm sure at the end of the day that's what will count the most with her! Now, where are they, Rupert? I have to know -1 have to find out what's going on.'

'You may be too late,' Rupert said grimly. 'Charlie is determined to get Sarah to marry him.' 'Over my dead body! Tell me, Rupert, or so help me I'll shake it out of you!'

'You're in no fit state to do anything of the sort,' Rupert retorted drily. 'But - OK, Nick, if you must know. Charlie borrowed our place in the Luberon for a few weeks.'

'Provence?' Nick stared, first in confusion and then in fury. Miriam had flown to Nice only that morning - he could well have been with her, and far closer to Sarah than he was now. He had forgotten how casually his friends used each other's second homes, he had even lent his own Malibu house on occasions to Rupert and Liz. 'Then I'll drive down there tonight. I'll find them, Rupert, I have to,' he decided.

'You'll go nowhere tonight,' Rupert said firmly. 'You're out on your feet, for one thing, and I'm not about to have your killing yourself on the road with fatigue on my conscience. Come back to Lambourn with me, have a meal and sleep over. You can leave early in the morning. Then you'll have a better chance of making it in one piece.'

'No - I'm going now.' Nick gritted his teeth. Why were all his friends so determined to keep him from Sarah?

'The hell you are! See sense, Nicholas,' Rupert pleaded. 'You'll collapse at the wheel. Come on - let Liz feed you and then get an early night. It will make the drive far easier to deal with; it's a pig at the best of times.' Reluctantly Nick remembered the promise he had made to Miriam, and, finally agreeing to his persuasion, followed the battered Land Rover back to Lambourn. He barely made it, and crawled willingly into the bed Liz had ready for him after Rupert's call to her, meaning only to take a short nap but instead sleeping for several hours.

Liz finally brought him supper on a tray and sat on the bed. comfortably chatting as she made him eat.

She was far more open about Charles than the more loyal Rupert, and had no compunction in decrying Charles's efforts to ensnare Sarah. 'He's crazily jealous of you, Nick, you should be really aware of that,' she said. 'It's quite worrying the way he's behaving over Sarah. I know he's in love with her, but it's become far too possessive a kind of love now for it to be really healthy. He's determined to have something he knew you wanted, and he'll go to almost any lengths to get it.'

'But surely Sarah can see through that?' 'No, Nick, I don't think she can - not in her state. He's got her tied to him in some way. She hasn't been well, according to Charlie. That's why he wanted to take her away. She certainly hasn't been working recently.'

'Oh, God, Liz, I really should go tonight! I can be halfway across France by morning.'

'No, you don't, Sunshine! Rupert is dead right for once.' Liz grinned. 'I took all your clothes away while you were asleep! You'll get them back in the morning and only then!'

Nick called her several nasty names, but he had no choice but to obey her and finish the admittedly delicious meal that he had been sure he didn't want. 'You're a worse tyrant than Miriam,' he grumbled as Liz picked up the tray. 'Women are all the same - all you want to do is bully me while I'm down!'

'You're damn lucky to have us all to worry about you,' she told him tartly. 'You're a ruthless sod sometimes, Nicholas, but I'll give you your due. Even though you knew you'd made a mistake with Diana, you stuck with her a lot longer than most men would have done. She's a hard one - always has been - and avaricious to the point of lunacy.'

'Maybe that was my mistake,' Nick sighed. 'I encouraged her to spend money on herself and Charlotte. Maybe I've turned her into the kind of person she is.'

'No, Nick. She was always like that!' Liz stood up. 'She made no secret of the fact that she wanted you. Even at university it was obvious you were destined for great things, and she wanted part of it.'

'I should have listened to all of you,' Nick said. 'I was far too arrogant to consider I could be wrong.'

'Well, we all have to learn by our mistakes; it's just taken you a bit longer, that's all.'

'I'm not making a mistake over Sarah, Liz, believe me. And I'll get her away from Charlie if I have to wrench her out of his bed!'

'I doubt that will be necessary. Sarah was living in the pavilion as far as I know - not in the house itself.'

'Thank God!' Nick's relief was enormous. 'Rupert seemed to think they were on the point of marriage.'

'I doubt it!' Liz patted his arm. 'Rupert always was a daft old romantic! Sleep well. Nick. I'll wake you early in the morning, don't worry. Rupert has to be up at five. You can have your clothes back then.'

'That will teach me to worry about your sheets and not keep them on,' Nick returned. 'But you're right, Liz - I am lucky to have such good friends.'

CHAPTER 25

After manfully tackling what Liz considered a normal breakfast. Nick realized why she and Rupert were the size they were. He felt as if he had regained most of the weight he had lost in one overnight visit as he drove at his usual brisk pace to Dover.

He and Liz had tossed up over his route and he had opted for the shorter Dover crossing in the end. He spoke at length to Miriam in Cap Ferrat and then Jane as he drove, and felt far more like his old self as he did so. He was back in charge of his life, making decisions. Motivated now, he was full of energy at last, though he was still careful to conserve his strength, even catnapping during the Channel crossing.

Ordinarily, he would have made the drive to the south in one go, but he knew he still wasn't strong enough to do that on this trip, and reluctantly he found a hotel just outside Lyon for the night. But, unable to sleep, all he could do was toss around and think of Sarah. He was so close now, and in the early morning as he continued the journey south the air seemed warmer, even smelled different, and at last he relaxed a little, knowing he was nearing his goal.

He had visited the villa only once, at least five years previously, when he had brought Charlotte on a shared trip with Liz and Rupert, but he remembered the route with ease once he got within a few miles of it. The house was a typical Provencal Mas, low and stone-built, hidden amongst trees at the end of a narrow rutted track. It was an idyllic spot, nestled as it was into the hillside. Charlotte had loved it, and he smiled at the memory of that pleasant holiday without Diana fussing about wearing sun hats and eating at the correct times.

It was a little after twelve when he pulled onto the grassy driveway, swinging his car so that it faced the right way to leave and blocking the exit of the pale blue Jaguar he knew belonged to Charles before he strode across to the open front door of the house. They were here, and they could go nowhere without the car, he thought grimly, and reached into the open window of the Jaguar for the keys as an afterthought.

It was just as he remembered it, old stone-flagged floor, furniture painted in soft Provencal colours and, tossed on the hall table, the gaily coloured leather haversack he had bought Sarah in San Francisco at Christmas. For a moment he stared at it in confusion, then he could stand it no longer.

'Sarah? Sarah, where are you?' His voice sounded thinner - and strained, he thought irritably as he listened for a reply. But none came. Anxious, then, he made for the door that he remembered led to the sitting room and which in turn opened onto the garden. Suddenly he heard Sarah's laughter, and in the next second he saw her, laughing and pushing Charles playfully away from her as she sat at a white metal table in the sun. He couldn't help himself, and involuntarily he stepped forward.

'Sarah!' he said quietly. 'Sarah!' She looked up, startled at an outsider's sudden intrusion on their solitude. Visitors had been rare these last few weeks. And then she gave a shriek of recognition. 'Nick! I don't believe it!' Charles leapt up from his chair, his face a mask of pure hatred, and anger that Nick had found them so easily.

'How dare you march in without asking?' he demanded furiously; 'We want nothing more to do with you. Nick. You aren't welcome here.'

'Tough!' Nick swept Charles aside as if he were a small child. 'I've come to see Sarah, not you.' Sarah rose slowly, her eyes never leaving Nick's face as she moved around the table. She had never seemed more beautiful to him as she did then, the cloud of honey-gold hair cascading down the back of her loose denim dress. Loose, he thought casually, very unlike Sarah. . . Then he realized, and his jaw dropped in astonishment.