Harry turned his head this way and that, but he couldn’t find her. She’d been here just a moment ago. He began to search the barn and the space outside but she was nowhere to be seen. And more worryingly, neither was Digby.
Chapter 6
SOPHY
The stars were brilliant and the air was chill, and Sophy stood gazing upwards at the heavens as if they could tell her what the future held. Then she reminded herself that she didn’t need to be told because she already knew. Her future was at Pendleton Manor, with Harry. And yet tonight she felt strangely uneasy, as if those dreams were in jeopardy.
She had come outside because the barn had been so hot and stuffy, but it was more than that. Digby’s presence had changed things, reminded her that she didn’t know everything about Harry despite thinking she did. What was he like when he was away from home? Did he behave like Digby? Sophie wondered if she had been foolish to think Harry was perfect—because how could any man live up to such expectations?
Her father had been keeping a close watch on her throughout the evening, more so than usual, and she could only think it was to do with the conversation she’d overheard. She could understand him worrying about Digby—he made her skin prickle—and had no intention of ever being alone with him. But Harry? Harry would never harm her, and if they thought he might then they were very wrong. And as for her cousin Arnold, if she heard her aunt say one more time how wonderful he was, she would scream.
Snow had been falling while they were inside the barn and the crisp white layer that blanketed the garden now looked serene and beautiful. Sophy knew there would probably be slush and ice to contend with tomorrow, but for now everything was unspoiled.
“Sophy.”
In this perfect moment it could only be Harry calling to her. She turned. A man stood behind her, the light from the barn behind silhouetting him. He moved a little to the side so that she could see him better.
It was Digby, and he looked the worse for wear. His neckcloth was undone and his hair stood on end. His skin was tinted green in the glow of the flaring torches. He’d taken off his jacket and she thought he must be cold out there in his shirt sleeves. She told him so. His response was unnerving, spoken in such a meaningful voice that she felt as if she should know what he meant.
“I’m not cold, little Sophy, I’m hot. You. You make me very hot.”
His eyes held a gleam she had seen in Adam’s earlier, and she assumed that meant he had drunk far too much. But there was a determination in his expression that concerned her. In fact—she glanced over his shoulder toward the barn—she would very much like to return to the others.
She told him that too.
“I’m sure we can entertain ourselves far better away from the crowd,” he responded, and the smirk on his face only increased her anxiety.
Digby might be Harry’s friend but he wasn’t hers. She didn’t know him. She didn’t like him. She took a step toward the barn but he mirrored her movements, so that he was standing in front of her again.
“My father will be wondering where I am,” she said.
He shook his head and closed the distance between them, and now she was afraid. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
She could feel her heart thumping in her breast and her palms damp despite the cold. She tried to dart around him but he was ready for her. He even laughed, as he caught her arm and swung her about, as if her trying to escape was a fine joke. Before she could gather her scattered wits he was tugging her along the path that ran down into the woods. Her slippers sank into the cold snow—it was much deeper here—and she stumbled, but he held her up, his grip unrelenting. She cried out in pain but he didn’t let her go, and that was when she realised she was in desperate trouble.
“Wonder if Harry’ll think he’s won now?” he muttered to himself, then cackled. “Digby gets the last laugh.”
Sophy realised something else then. Digby wasn’t doing this for himself; he was doing it because Harry had humiliated him.
She screamed. The sound was shrill and frightened and quickly cut off by Digby’s hand.
He shook her until she felt dizzy. “Where does this go to?” he demanded, pointing in front of them, where a gate separated the path from the woods proper. She could see the glitter of his eyes in the starlight. His hand over her mouth was clammy as he lifted it up to hear her answer.
“There’s a-a pavilion,” she said, teeth chattering in the cold. “But we can’t go there now. The w-woods are dangerous at night.”
He laughed as if the thought of danger was merely another challenge to him. He tugged her forward again, her feet numb now. Her only hope was that she could escape him in the darkness of the trees. Digby was a stranger to the estate but Sophy knew all the hiding places. If only she could get away from him for long enough to find them.
But it wasn’t as easy to escape as she’d hoped. He kept that painfully strong grip on her arm, and before she could make her attempt they had reached the clearing. Snow had fallen here, and the trees around them were frosted in white like the Pendleton cook’s fruit cakes.
He tugged her closer to the steps. “Is it locked?” She didn’t answer and he reached for the door and gave it a shake. It was locked but Sophy had a feeling that wasn’t going to stop the man. He’d force the door open and then he’d force himself on her. Her heart began to pound, and as he raised his foot, intending to kick against the barrier, she made her move.
Sophy pulled away from him and leapt down the steps. She ran, her eyes darting everywhere, looking for somewhere, anywhere to find refuge … and promptly fell flat on her face.
The cold snow pressed into her nose and clung to her lips. She gasped and tried to stand up, but her foot seemed to be caught in the stair behind her.
She heard him chuckling, and then he felt his hands on her, rolling her over onto her back. Her foot wrenched as it came free and she cried out, but her voice was small, breathless from her fall, and seemed to make no dent at all in the tall, bare trees around them. He was bigger and stronger, and he held her down easily even as she struggled.
“This will do as well as anything,” he said, speaking to himself, his breath hot in her face. Then, without warning, Digby began to kiss her.