CHAPTER ELEVEN
Beth had been trying to contact Hyacinth since their trip to Scotland. She was smitten, her feelings alternating between incredible lust, desperate to get into bed with her, and total self-doubt seeing herself as a stupid fool who had got the situation entirely wrong. Despite leaving several messages, H hadn’t returned her calls. What was the woman playing at? Beth was anxious to make contact, needing some sort of reassurance.
Beth presumed Hyacinth’s silence meant she wasn’t going to Davinia’s birthday party. She convinced herself H was playing with her mind; she didn’t appear to want to play with her body. The party might help to lift her spirits. Despite going with dreary Daphne, she was looking forward to her first glimpse of Melton Manor. From Daphne’s description the Macfarline residence sounded impressive.
On the night of the party they rattled along in Beth’s old car. The Manor was well off the beaten track. The endless private drive twisted through acres of open parkland. Finally they arrived. Built more like a castle, Melton Manor was imposing, and much bigger than Beth’s family home. She couldn’t wait to see inside.
To create an atmosphere, not that they needed to because the place had enough of its own, strategically placed torches were positioned to cast long shadows. Beth loved it.
The minute they stepped out of the car, Beth’s keys were taken by a handsome young man who drove it away to be parked out of sight. Apparently Daddy didn’t like the place to look untidy and her old bone-shaker of a car would certainly lower the tone. Liveried staff ushered them towards a red carpet leading into an arched doorway that spilled out warm welcoming light.
This is some way to live, Beth thought, walking into the grand reception hall where a string quartet played in an alcove. Davinia and Julie were waiting inside to receive their guests. Beth was amused that they were immaculately and identically dressed in purple silk shirts under flowing black kaftans.
‘Come in, darling girls. Have some champagne,’ greeted Julie. She air kissed Beth, and thrust a glass into one hand as she grasped the other continuing, ‘Come with me. Daphne knows lots of people here, but let me introduce you to someone else so you don’t feel left out. Daphne’s sure to get sidelined; she always does!’ Julie chuckled.
Barely giving Beth time to wish Davinia a happy birthday, Julie led her into the garden room — a lovely, mellow yellow room with tall windows reaching down to the floor that opened in such a way you could step out into the walled garden. Numerous fruit trees jostled with each other from behind shrubs in varying stages of bloom, providing a riot of colour. A summerhouse, almost hidden by rhododendron bushes, was just visible in a far corner — perfect for secret liaisons. Holding on tightly to Beth’s hand, afraid of losing her in the throng of chattering women, Julie headed towards a woman sitting alone on one of the comfortable sofas. As they approached, the woman turned her head, glossy dark hair swung across her shoulders and brown eyes smiled up at them.
‘Constance. I’d like to introduce you to Beth.’
Constance stood up, held out her hand. ‘Hi Beth. How lovely to meet you. I’m guessing that like me, you don’t know many of the guests.’
Julie answered. ‘No. She doesn’t, which is why I thought you two could get to know each other.’
‘Thanks Julie. How thoughtful.’ Beth took Constance’s outstretched hand. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Constance.’
Julie, confident that Beth was in good company, hurried back to Davinia. Like a lost puppy Daphne had trailed across the room behind them, spotted someone she knew and promptly scuttled away.
‘Refill?’ Constance asked before they sat down.
‘I’m fine, thanks. I want to keep a clear head. I’m driving. Plus, I’m in theatre early in the morning.’
‘In theatre? Is that acting or operating?’
‘Operating. I’m a surgeon at St. Gregory’s.’ Beth took a sip of champagne and brushed a strand of her hair back from her brow.
‘So you’re a cut above the rest then?’ Constance laughed. ‘Pardon the pun.’
‘You could say that.’ Beth chuckled. ‘What about you?’
‘I work in Newcastle too. With Brewsters. I’m a corporate lawyer.’
‘I know them. They’re a huge company. They have offices up and down the country.’
‘And abroad. I split my time between the south of England and here, mostly. Like you, I work long hours when the need arises. I was hoping you were a thespian. I love live theatre.’
‘I was on the stage once.’
‘You were?’
‘Yes — sweeping up.’
‘Touche.’ Constance raised her glass.
‘Joking aside, I love live theatre too. I used to help out at our local amateur dramatic society before I started my medical training.’
‘I knew you had a dramatic side to you. During my gap year, just for the hell of it, I studied theatrical make-up. I loved it, and very nearly made a career out of it.’
‘How interesting. Totally different to being a corporate lawyer.’
‘Yes. But what I’m doing now definitely has its perks. It keeps my penthouse in Newcastle going, and my little country hide-a-way too. Though I must say, I’m always glad to get back from London to the more sensible pace of life here.’
‘Talking of London, I’m going down there soon. A friend and I are planning a weekend shopping and clubbing,’ Beth said.
‘Here, take this.’ Constance dipped into her small shoulder bag and passed her a business card. ‘This is an exclusive night club, strictly ladies only, with a very discerning membership. Go,’ she pointed at the name on the card. ‘I know you’ll enjoy it.’
‘Thanks.’ Beth took the card and sank back into the sofa to read it. She liked Constance. She was easy to talk to.
Constance excused herself to fetch them more drinks. Beth took the opportunity to survey the room and the guests. Although the furniture had been pushed back against the walls to allow more floor space for all the inevitable food and drink, it was evident this room was well used by the family. Beth was idly looking at the other guests, a diverse selection of women in all shapes and sizes, when she noticed one or two of them wore the same diamond pendants as some of the more glamorous girls she’d met at Hyacinth’s charity bash. Others wore long silk scarves in the same shade of purple as Hyacinth’s new curtain material. Strange, purple isn’t one of this season’s colours, she mused, it’s all yellows and creams. She was still pondering on the pendants when Hyacinth stalked into the room.
Damn — what’s she doing here? Flustered, Beth looked for Daphne who was on the far side of the room deep in conversation.
Muttering an excuse about needing fresh air to Constance, who had just returned, Beth ran out into the garden hoping to become invisible amongst the cherry trees.
Constance followed and found her lurking in the shadows, ‘Are you running away from Hyacinth?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Why? Has she done something to you?’
‘I suppose she has but I can’t talk about it. I didn’t expect her to be here.’
Seeing the apprehension in Beth’s eyes, Constance spoke matter-of-factly. ‘I had a brief affair with H years ago. And let me tell you . . . she’s an extremely jealous and volatile bitch.’
‘She is?’ Beth swallowed hard.
‘Trust me when I tell you that you want nothing to do with her. She’s trouble with a capital T. She’s involved in . . . well, I don’t know what really or even how to describe it. It’s some kind of rituals they do. Oh, I know it sounds crazy, I would even go as far as saying she dabbles in . . . magic. Anyway there are some weird goings on with her and her group of special friends. You must have noticed the stunning women wearing identical diamond pendants?’
Beth nodded.
‘The pendants indicate ownership.’
Beth frowned. ‘Ownership?’
‘Hyacinth’s ownership.’
Beth listened intently.
‘The women wearing the pendants have connections you wouldn’t believe and they are all under H’s control. She’s had everyone of them. Take my advice Beth. Stay well away from all of them.’ Constance, taking Beth’s hands, looked at her with genuine concern. ‘Don’t tell me you are going to London with H?’
‘I am,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh my God. How did that happen?’
It was a relief for Beth to talk. She stood nervously squeezing her hands together, saying how she was besotted with Hyacinth. I must be crazy opening up to a stranger like this.
‘Please, please take my advice, Beth. Let H go. She is evil. How that poor husband of hers puts up with her, I really don’t know. Are you listening to me?’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t think you appreciate the seriousness of what you’re getting into. Look, if nothing else, think about your career. H should have a red warning light flashing above her head.’ Constance was trying her best but Beth wasn’t listening and she knew it. ‘Don’t let her draw you into her web.’
‘I have to go,’ Beth said faintly. She needed to find H — before H found her. She ignored Constance’s advice. All that silly hocus-pocus cloak and dagger stuff, was just that, silly! Although she knew their celebration at The Old Manse was white magic, she preferred to think of it as working with mother earth’s energy and, in her opinion, there was nothing wrong with that. Pendants and ownership. . . bah!
Constance wasn’t the only person to notice Beth’s reaction to H. Julie’s sharp eyes missed nothing. Not wanting any upsets, and knowing H of old, she organized Davinia to show Beth around the Manor. That would take Beth safely out of the way while she had a few warning words with Hyacinth.
When Beth stepped back into the garden room Davinia appeared like a vision at her elbow. Knowing Beth had a keen interest in old property from their first meeting it didn’t seem unusual for her to offer a personal tour of the Manor.
Davinia led the way into a vast mirrored ballroom where a female DJ was busy checking her equipment for the dancing that was to come. Beth wondered what sort of scenes these mirrored walls had witnessed over the years. Then Davinia took Beth into the drawing room where a regal display of family portraits gazed down from the gold, silk-lined walls onto exquisite antique regency furniture. A priceless Venetian chandelier graced the ceiling. Nothing ostentatious here then, Beth thought sarcastically.
They moved into the formal dining room dominated by an impressive mahogany table capable of seating twenty-four people comfortably. At the far end of the room a fireplace filled the entire width of the wall.
‘What a huge fireplace,’ Beth said with enthusiasm.
‘Come. Have a closer look. See if you can guess its secret.’
‘Lead the way.’
Actually standing in the fireplace Davinia warned, ‘Be careful of falling soot. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. This fireplace is used regularly.’
‘Come on then. Tell me the secret.’
‘You know this place is ancient.’
‘15th or 16th century?’
‘Thereabouts. You know your history. Have a guess. It’s pretty obvious really.’
‘It hasn’t? Has it?’
‘Yes!’ Davinia clapped her hands while jumping excitedly on the spot. ‘A priest hole!’
‘Let me have a look?’
‘Sorry, Beth. I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
Suddenly Davinia was all of a quiver. ‘It comes out in the garden. The tunnel is so narrow I’ve never dared venture into it.’ Davinia went into peels of laughter, spluttering, ‘I’d get stuck if I tried.’ She shifted from one foot to the other. ‘This tunnel merges with many others. We’ve got an entire network below us, like the London underground.’ She stopped abruptly. She’d said too much. ‘Come along my dear. I’ll show you upstairs now.’
They crossed the hall, moving between the guests, to the foot of the wide staircase with an incredibly high ceiling.
Looking up Beth remarked. ‘I wouldn’t like to have to decorate that.’
‘The decorators use scaffolding.’
At the turn in the stairs a tall window looked out over the garden and across the parkland. Beth paused and glanced down. H and Constance were talking. She drew back and hurried after her hostess.
Davinia ushered Beth along the first floor landing complete with threadbare carpets, flinging open the bedroom doors one by one. Each room was decorated in a different colour and Beth lost count after the fifth or sixth. They were all comfortably furnished with heavy, dark furniture and solid four poster beds. In sharp contrast the ultra-modern bathrooms had wonderful old Victorian style bathtubs. Beth lingered imagining herself soaking in deep scented water surrounded by rose petals.
Hardly pausing for breath Davinia bombarded Beth with so much history she almost missed the invitation to be a house-guest.
‘So Beth. We’ll look forward to your visit. Julie and I just love entertaining.’
‘Visit? My visit?’
‘Wake up,’ she gently nudged Beth with her elbow. ‘I’ve just invited you to be our house-guest.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind. I’d like that.’
‘Good. We’ll have to get something arranged. Do you get much free time from the hospital?’
‘Not a great deal.’
‘How do you find George Dickinson? Is he good to work for?’
‘He’s a charming man, and an amazing surgeon to boot. I admire him.’
‘I take it you intend to stay at St. Gregory’s?’
‘I’ve no plans to go anywhere else.’
‘How is your family coping? How is Catherine?’
‘You know my sister?’ Beth was surprised. Davinia’s interest in her and her family bordered on being downright nosy.
‘There you are!’ Daphne interrupted them.‘I’ve been looking for you. I’ll come with you. I love mooching around this place.’
Davinia looked at Daphne, nodded and winked, ‘Tell you what Daph, you show Beth around. After all, you know the place well enough and I really should be getting back to the other guests.’
As Davinia hurried towards the main staircase, Daphne took Beth’s hand leading her into the nearest bedroom. Two steps into the room, she pulled Beth down onto a sofa. Beth realized Daphne had been drinking.
She had difficulty keeping Daphne’s wandering hands at bay, and was fast losing her patience. They didn’t hear Petra come into the room until she was standing right in front of them. Because H had described Petra in such detail Beth knew immediately who she was.
Running her hands over her body, taking time to unfasten the top button of her blouse, Petra lifted her leg to rest her foot on the corner of the sofa next to Beth.
Daphne’s wandering hands finally stopped, she glared up at Petra.
‘Can I make it with you?’ Petra spoke in a weird accent.
‘Make it? Make what?’ Beth said.
‘Lurve. Is that what you English say?
‘Lurve?’ Beth could feel the laughter bubbling. Is this woman serious? Does she want a threesome? It was all too much. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the top of Petra’s stockings where her long shapely legs disappeared under her short skirt.
Daphne forced a thin smile and patted the seat, inviting Petra to sit beside her.
Is it the drink or do these women act like this all of the time? Beth wondered. Supposedly the housekeeper, Petra was dressed more like a French maid from an amateur dramatic farce, her peculiar accent more French than Swedish. High heels, black stockings, the shortest, tightest black skirt that moved invitingly higher when she’d lifted her leg, and a dainty white apron. Her slinky white blouse gave a tempting glimpse of her deep cleavage.
Ignoring Daphne, Petra beckoned Beth to her. When Beth didn’t respond, she reached forward and took Beth’s hands pulling her slowly to her feet.
‘Feel my titz, Beth.’ She placed Beth’s hands onto her breasts and held them there. Her nipples hardened under Beth’s touch.
Petra closed her eyes and started to murmur in an exaggerated accent. ‘You exzite me you ravishing witch. Oh, you maker ze nipplez harder.’
Beth struggled to suppress her laughter. This was the most bizarre situation to be in, but at the same time she felt a tremendous urge to kiss Petra’s pouting red lips.
Playing hard to get, Petra tipped her head back out of Beth’s reach.
Beth paused momentarily, made to step away, then Petra came to life. Hands on either side of Beth’s head, she pulled Beth back to her; their lips met, her tongue searched out Beth’s.
Daphne was furious. She slammed out of the room almost taking the door off its hinges.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Petra led Beth to the bed. She started to pull her skirt up with one hand, holding Beth firmly by the waist with the other. She was going to enjoy this.
The door burst open and Hyacinth stormed in. ‘What the hell is going on in here?’ She was absolutely blazing, eyes full of venom. ‘Daphne said you were in here with that tramp!’
Alarm bells rang in Beth’s head. God knows she’d just been warned about that temper and jealous streak, and now she was about to witness it first hand.
With surprising strength, H wrenched the two girls apart pushing Petra away towards the door. Failing to gain control of herself, she drew back her hand and delivered a resounding slap across Beth’s face.
Momentarily stunned, Beth raised her hand and slapped Hyacinth back, delivering an equally stinging blow. She rounded on Hyacinth with a fury to match hers.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? How bloody dare you!?’
It was Hyacinth’s turn to be shocked. No-one ever dared retaliate against her, and although her temper was shooting off the Richter Scale, in that instant some respect for Beth was born. Still, it took a huge effort to steady herself.
Conscience-stricken, she reached for Beth, ‘Darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. Truly I didn’t. You gave me such a shock, kissing that hussy.’ Dramatically she pointed at Petra. ‘Will you forgive me, please?’
‘Forgive you? You’ve never returned one of my fucking calls since we got back from Scotland. What the hell do you want from me, Hyacinth?’ Beth’s angry words struck home.
‘Darling, I’m so sorry. I overreacted.’ Shit, Hyacinth silently cursed. She must learn to control her temper, it would be her downfall. Standing as penitent as a small child, one hand on her heart, the other behind her back so she could cross her fingers, she gave Beth her most imploring look.
Petra faded away like morning mist in the sunshine, slyly blowing a kiss to Beth from behind Hyacinth’s back as she slunk out of the door.
Beth didn’t like this side of Hyacinth. She didn’t like it at all. All the apologies in the world would never make her forget that stinging slap.
On a losing streak, H moved on. ‘I have strong feelings for you, Beth. So strong I’m finding them difficult to deal with. I was jealous. And I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, I’ve had staffing problems at the Unit. I’ve hardly been home.’
Surprised by her admission Beth’s face softened but she couldn’t resist saying, ‘Not even time for a quick phone call?’
Gotcha, thought H. Genuinely relieved, she pulled Beth into her arms, kissing her passionately as her hands slid under Beth’s shirt. She was almost panting in anticipation, but suddenly she stopped, and looked towards the door. ‘Listen . . . someone’s coming.’
‘What?’ Then Beth heard the voices.
‘Quick — into the dressing room.’
Davinia, with her friend, the ultra-chic Clarice, entered the room. An avid collector of antique furniture, Davinia appeared to be showing off her latest acquisition, a set of drawers. She opened the middle drawer, they looked, neither spoke. Davinia lifted out a box and turned to her friend.
‘Yes, Davinia, that will do nicely.’
Beth watched Davinia take a pink dildo out of the box.
‘What on earth are they going to do with that?’ Beth whispered, jokingly.
‘Quiet or they’ll hear us. We don’t want any embarrassment.’
From their secret vantage point they watched Davinia fumbling under the folds of her black kaftan. Then she stood up, pulled it off over her head with a flourish, and turned to face Clarice. The pink dildo standing proud against her pubic bone peeped through the folds of her long purple shirt.
‘Strip.’ She demanded.
‘I do love it when you’re butch,’ Clarice simpered. She stripped in a flash.
‘Stand at the bottom of the bed, and bend over.’
Watching the scene unfold, H and Beth shook with silent laughter.
‘My God, H. I’ll never be able to look either of these women in the eye again.’ Beth spluttered as H put her hand over Beth’s mouth to shut her up.
After much puffing and panting, the two women stopped, both out of breath. There seemed to be little emotion between them Beth thought, just vigorous pounding. Finished, they disposed of the toy, dressed quickly and left.
Hyacinth and Beth fell out of the dressing room. An intriguing thought came into Beth’s mind. We’re supposed to be going to London soon, will H expect me to do that, or will she leave me alone like she did in Scotland?
‘We’d better get back to the party. We’ll go down separately. Like I said — we don’t want to cause any embarrassment,’ H interrupted her thoughts.
‘And where do we go from here, H? Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the evening, or will you come and dance with me?’
‘Maybe we should keep our distance, darling. I don’t want people to put two-and-two together. I’ll keep in touch. I promise.’ H kissed her lightly on the lips and then pushed her toward the bedroom door.
Beth glanced back over her shoulder, ‘Make sure that you do.’ She disappeared through the door.
H waited, giving Beth time to rejoin the party, then slipped down the back stairs. For the rest of the night they deliberately avoided each other.
While circulating through the guests ostensibly checking on things, Petra slipped Beth her telephone number. She wanted to see her again so they could continue their game, running her hand lasciviously over Beth’s firm bottom leaving Beth in no doubt of her intentions.
Collecting a glass of Chardonnay back in the garden room, Beth stood watching Clarice talking to her partner. They looked so in love that Beth wondered if she’d dreamt the bedroom scene.
Subdued, Daphne joined Beth while they ate supper. Afterwards it was everyone for themselves on the dance floor as the mirrored walls of the ballroom reflected some of the wildest and most erotic dancing Beth had ever seen. She never sat down, she loved to dance. Some of the women she’d met at the Dickinson’s charity bash were there. Each one sought her out to dance, charming her with their offers of friendship. The party ended in the early hours of the morning when everyone was on the brink of exhaustion.
Hyacinth, passing Beth in the grand hall, surreptitiously clutched her hand. ‘I forgot to tell you — I have some good news.’ She smiled slyly and left, leaving Beth feeling uneasy.
Beth had refused Daphne’s invitation for coffee. All she wanted to do was to collapse into her bed and sleep, but when she tried to sleep, unwanted flashbacks of Davinia and Clarice came into her mind, as did Hyacinth’s angry outburst. She could almost feel that stinging slap again. And what was H’s news?
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