The Silent Touch of Shadows (24 page)

‘Yup. That would explain it, especially if Sibell was already dead by then as well.’

‘Hmmm, I don’t know, Colin. Something isn’t quite right, I can sense it.’ But there seemed to be no other logical explanation. Melissa sighed. ‘I shall have to look further. I didn’t come across any Roger Presseille’s at all, but that’s not to say he didn’t exist. There is so little material left from those days.’ She smiled at Colin. ‘Thank you so much for showing me, anyway. I really appreciate your help. I hadn’t got round to visiting the church yet, and even if I had I’m sure I would have missed Sibell’s tomb, hidden away as it is.’

‘Anytime,’ he mumbled, ‘anytime.’

Chapter Eighteen

The great hall at Idenhurst was at least three times the size of the one at Ashleigh and Sibell watched her father looking around in envy. She followed his gaze towards the great oriel window Sir Gilbert had recently had installed to brighten the room. It was a beautiful piece of architecture and must have cost a great deal. She knew it galled her father that he couldn’t aspire to anything so grand, although he was hoping her marriage to Sir Fulke would change things.

‘With his connections, I’m sure he’ll be able to help me rise to a more prominent position in society,’ he had been heard to boast to his sons. ‘Then we’ll see about buying a larger manor house and more land.’ The fact that his daughter had to be sacrificed for the sake of his ambitions seemed not to matter.

Sibell saw his eyes wander upwards towards the cavernous ceiling, where the great roof timbers were decorated with corbels carved in the shape of serpents’ heads. An involuntary shudder passed through him, as if he found them intimidating rather than decorative. Sibell had to admit the snakes looked ready to strike at any time.

They had been invited to a feast in honour of the powerful Lord Blaine, an acquaintance of Sir Gilbert’s, and the entire Ashleigh family was present.

‘I wish we could have refused to attend,’ her father grumbled to his eldest son Henry, who was seated on the other side of him, ‘but Blaine is on good terms with Sir Fulke of Thornby. He’ll want to look Sibell over on behalf of his friend.’ He glanced at his daughter and, by the expression of distaste that crossed his features, she gathered he found her wanting, as usual.

‘Well, I hope he doesn’t look too closely then,’ she heard Henry mutter. The guffaw that followed this thoughtless remark did nothing to improve her father’s temper. He cuffed the boy, wiping the smirk off his face in an instant.

‘Shut your mouth, fool,’ he hissed. ‘You had better pray the man likes what he sees, or else there’ll be no wedding. You know full well the advantages of the match and should we fail there’s no one else half so powerful who’ll have her. By the saints, that a man should be so plagued with a lackwit for a son, and my heir to boot now
 
…’ He continued to curse under his breath for some time and Sibell looked round to make sure no one was listening.

Henry was the largest and strongest of her brothers, with fists the size of small hams, but the good Lord did appear to have forgotten to give the boy a brain. He had ever been slow to grasp things, frustrating his impatient sire who often said he had no idea how Henry would ever manage Ashleigh. His only hope was that his other sons would help when the time came.

Simon leaned across Sibell and whispered to his father, ‘I heard a rumour that Thornby is occupied with the young wife of an elderly knight. She’s apparently not averse to lifting her skirts for anyone who asks. Perhaps he’ll change his mind about Sibell?’

‘He had better not,’ came the growled reply, together with a glare which boded ill for Sir Fulke should he renege on his word. Simon quickly leaned back.

Although the marriage negotiations were progressing, Sir Fulke hadn’t yet bestirred himself to visit them, preferring to rely on trusted messengers. Sibell was very grateful, since it gave her more time to think of a solution. No doubt Sir Fulke had been told she wasn’t a beauty, tall and lanky as she was and with these accursed freckles of hers. Nevertheless, Sir Fulke had agreed to the match in principle, perhaps swayed by the considerable dowry her father had used as bait, and that thought was disheartening.

‘If the contract isn’t signed by Midsummer, I suppose I’ll have to ride over to Thornby and speed things up.’ Her father cast another sour glance towards her, then narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t doubt you’re playing some deep game, but don’t think you can best me, girl. You’ll be married before summer’s end, even if I have to beat you black and blue.’ He took a deep swallow of the excellent burgundy wine, which was flowing freely. ‘It’s your duty to do as your father wishes, damn you. I shouldn’t have to force you.’

Sibell lowered her gaze and kept silent.

Musicians, jugglers and even two dwarves had been hired to entertain the guests, but Sibell found no enjoyment in their antics. The dwarves and jugglers irritated her, and the scraping of fiddles and banging of drums was making her head ache. Her father seemed to agree with her.

‘Damned cacophony,’ he muttered into his goblet, then turned his attention to the highly spiced food on his trencher.

Sibell stirred restlessly. Someone was looking at her, she could feel it, but as always she had to be cautious. Turning to the finger bowl on her left, she carefully rinsed her hands and under the pretence of looking for the drying-cloth she peeked across to an adjoining trestle. Her eyes met those of Roger and she stilled, unable to drag her gaze away.

He was leaning back against the wall behind him, ostensibly deep in conversation with a pretty lady seated next to him, but his expression of barely suppressed boredom told her the woman meant nothing. It was Sibell he wanted, and a delicious tingle went down her spine at the promise she read in his eyes. As a juggler walked past, momentarily shielding him from view, Sibell drew a shaky breath. The warmth spreading through her veins was threatening to spill over into her cheeks. She had to control her thoughts or she’d give herself away.

She shot a watchful glance at her father, but he was busy devouring his meal. He ate with a single-mindedness that never failed to astonish her, but she was grateful for it now. With her father occupied, Sibell risked another look at Roger. He was speaking to the woman and pointed to something behind her. As she looked away he quickly mouthed, ‘Later,’ at Sibell, before returning his attention to his table companion.

Sibell checked to make sure none of the members of her family had noticed the exchange, but her father was still lost in his fare and her four brothers were too deep in their cups to see anything. She heaved a sigh of relief and shivered in anticipation. How soon was ‘later’?

The following day was Open Day at Jolie’s new school, so Melissa was forced to take a break from her research.

‘Would you like to come with us?’ she asked Dorothy, who always took an interest in everything Jolie did, but the old lady shook her head.

‘Thank you, but not this time. Russ has been a bit under the weather this morning, so I think I’d better stay with him. Probably just a temporary side-effect of the annual booster shot he had yesterday, but still, I don’t want to leave him.’

‘No, of course you must keep an eye on him, poor little chap.’ Melissa bent to pat the little terrier, who lay with his head on his paws, his expressive brown eyes mournful. ‘Hope he feels better soon.’ He was a sweet, intelligent dog, and she and Jolie had both come to love him very much.

Melissa could have done with Dorothy’s support, however, and left the house feeling nervous, checking and re-checking her make-up and clothing. She had informed Steve about the event – via his secretary, since she didn’t want to talk to him directly – and now she couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to come or not. It would, of course, be good for Jolie’s sake if he put in an appearance, but as for herself she’d much rather not see him. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

As they left the car in the school car park, she was still fretting. ‘Do I look all right?’

Jolie looked her over critically, then grinned. ‘Of course you do. You look great, Mum. I like the grey of your jacket, it goes with your eyes, and that black skirt is very pretty and swirly.’

Melissa smiled and gave Jolie a hug. ‘Thank you. So you won’t be ashamed of me, then?’

‘Don’t be silly.’

Growing serious, Melissa raised the matter of Steve. ‘You know your dad is very busy, so don’t be too disappointed if he doesn’t show up.’

‘I know. He never came to the Open Days at Putney, so he probably won’t today, either.’ Jolie sounded resigned, and Melissa wanted to strangle Steve, although to be fair it wasn’t always easy for parents to get time off for school events. ‘Come and see everything I’ve done, Mum.’ Jolie led the way up the stairs and Melissa followed her to the classroom.

The children’s work had been spread out on top of their desks and it took a while to look at it all. Melissa sifted through one workbook after another and was seriously impressed. She was just about to tell Jolie, when the teacher, Miss Kavanagh, came up behind them and said, ‘She’s doing really well, isn’t she, Ms
 
Grantham. You must be very proud of her.’

‘Oh, yes, of course I am, and I’m so glad she’s happy here.’ Melissa glanced at her daughter, whose cheeks were slightly pink with embarrassment at the praise. Jolie really did seem to be thriving and was working very hard. ‘I’m very grateful to you and the rest of the staff for being so supportive and helpful.’

‘Not at all, Jolie is a joy to teach. Never any bother.’

Melissa hardly dared to believe Miss Kavanagh’s words, they were so far from what she had been used to hearing from Jolie’s teacher in Putney. She looked at her daughter and smiled, enveloping her in a quick hug. ‘Well done, sweetie.’

‘Mum! Not here.’ Jolie struggled to disentangle herself.

Melissa laughed and let her go. ‘Sorry, I forgot. Hugging in public is un-cool, right?’

‘What’s this I’m hearing? My little girl doing well? I don’t believe it.’

They both looked up to find Steve standing next to the desk, larger than life and as handsome as ever. Melissa’s stomach lurched, and she inhaled sharply, waiting for the usual despair to flood through her. Nothing happened. To her surprise, there was no wave of longing, only mild irritation caused by the anger still simmering inside her. She was hugely relieved, but also slightly confused. He nodded curtly at her, bent to give Jolie a quick kiss on the cheek, then asked her to show him her work.

Melissa stood beside them in silence, mulling over her lack of reaction to Steve, while Jolie went through everything once more with him. Jolie soon led the way on a tour of the school, stopping in various places such as the science lab, where there were demonstrations of experiments going on. Later, in the art room, they bumped into Jake and Amy.

‘Hello there, everything all right?’ Jake ruffled Jolie’s red curls, prompting a squeal of outrage from Amy.

‘Dad, don’t do that, she’s not a baby.’

‘Sorry, just couldn’t resist.’

He laughed and the sound made Melissa feel all funny inside. She had an insane urge to throw herself around his neck and never let go. This was such a contrast to how her body had responded to Steve’s arrival, it almost made her gasp out loud. Instead, she took a deep breath to control her wayward emotions and introduced them to each other. The two men shook hands, both with a slightly wary look about them, like two fighters squaring off, weighing up their opponents.

They chatted about the school for a while and Steve grudgingly admitted that it seemed to have done wonders for his daughter.

‘It’s the atmosphere, I think,’ Jake said. ‘And they’re just wonderfully supportive of each child as an individual here.’

Melissa wasn’t really listening and only made noises of agreement now and again. She was still disconcerted by her different reactions to the two men. It seemed to her everything had turned upside down and the only way she could account for it was to blame it on Roger. Had he messed with her brain? Infiltrated her thought processes and changed her way of thinking? No, she refused to believe it.
He’s a ghost, he doesn’t exist!

The logical explanation, however, was that she had at last fallen out of love with Steve, alienated by his attitude. And perhaps slightly
in
love with Jake.
But I barely know the man and I’m not even sure I want a relationship right now.
Did it matter? People could fall in love at first sight and she had been attracted to him from the start, she couldn’t deny that. Besides, was there ever a right time for these things? It just happened.
No, this is Roger’s doing, it’s all his fault.
She put a hand up to her temple, trying to massage it surreptitiously. She wanted to go home and think things through in peace and quiet, but there was no chance of that yet.