Jenna was silent, hating herself for allowing her own fears and insecurities to take precedence over Lucy’s happiness. She had forgotten Lucy, if only momentarily, and it galled her to be reminded of her niece’s claims on her by James.
‘Sarah’s waking up,’ James warned her quietly. Jenna turned round and saw that Sarah was rubbing her eyes as she opened them.
‘How much longer?’ she asked James tiredly.
‘Only another half an hour or so.’
* * *
His estimate proved to be accurate; within forty minutes they were turning down a country lane, the dying sun disappearing beyond the rise of the hills and bathing everything in rich gold. Gloucestershire was a lovely county, Jenna reflected, trying to imbue something into herself of the peace of the surrounding countryside.
Up ahead of them a signpost indicated an hotel. ‘My godmother sold the family home when she was widowed and it’s now an hotel,’ James enlightened her. ‘She retained the lodge for her own use and is far more comfortable there. She has a live-in housekeeper-cum-companion who has been with her for the past twenty years. You can see the lodge now, if you look to the right.’
Jenna peered in the direction he indicated but all she could see was a moss-green roof, and then, as they turned a bend in the road, the lodge was there. Long and low, hugging the ground, the weathered stone lichened in places and dripping with the pink blossoms of a rambling rose.
Tiny mullioned windows painted white and framed with stone peered out from behind the trellis of rose and clematis. Too large to be described as a mere cottage, and yet not stately enough to merit the term house, the lodge looked as though it had been specifically designed for a calendar rather than as genuine habitation.
There was even a true cottage garden in front of it, complete with grassy path and a white picket fence.
‘I’ll have to drive round the back,’ James told Jenna. ‘There’s nowhere to leave the car here at the front.’
Another lane meandered to the rear of the building with a five-barred gate leading into a cobbled yard enclosed on two sides by the house and on the third by the road. Beyond the cobbled area lay more gardens, and Jenna was aghast when James drove through the gate and parked his car on the pretty cobbles.
‘Sacrilege, I know,’ he agreed, smiling at her, ‘but there’s no alternative. My godmother only has one garage,’ he indicated a single-storey building which formed one side of the L-shaped yard, ‘and it houses all her gardening tools plus her extremely ancient and temperamental Bentley.’
A heavy, wooden, studded back door opened, and a small round woman hurried out.
‘Jessie, my godmother’s companion,’ James explained as he opened his door and got out.
While James responded to Jessie’s warm greeting Jenna got out of the car, and simply stood for a moment breathing in the clear, sweet country air. It was softer here than the air at home, but it still carried the familiar country scents. At this time of the year a combination of hay and sun, mixed with those indefinable smells that only those who know the country can accurately dissect, and then she remembered Sarah and hurried to the rear of the car. James was there before her, lifting his step-sister out. Held in his arms Sarah looked so fragile that Jenna felt her throat lock. Her problems seemed minimal when she compared them with the burdens Sarah had to carry.
‘Come on in, and get the lassie settled somewhere comfortable,’ Jessie instructed. Her voice still held the faint burr of her native Scotland and Jenna wondered if she ever longed for the stark beauty of the highlands, here in the lush, chocolate-box prettiness of the South.
The back door led directly into the kitchen, a large, comfortable room with an Aga, and a quantity of sensible, plain, wooden-fronted cupboards. Quarry tiles shone on the floor, and in the centre of it stood an old-fashioned, bleached pine table. The mouthwatering smell of something cooking filled the room, and Jenna felt hungry.
‘We’re a little short on bedrooms, so we’ve put the lassie and yourself in the one room,’ Jessie explained to Jenna opening a door into a narrow hall.
‘That’s fine,’ Jenna assured her easily, ‘especially if Sarah finds she needs anything during the night. I’ll be on hand then without having to disturb anyone else.’
As she spoke she was conscious of Jessie studying her, and when she had finished the Scotswoman nodded her head. ‘Aye,’ was all she said but Jenna felt somehow as though she had just passed some test she hadn’t even known she was about to sit.
James confirmed her thoughts as he murmured against her ear, ‘Jessie approves of you!’ Jenna turned to look at him and just caught the twinkle in his eye as he added in a voice so low that only she could hear it, ‘And that’s certainly a first—like you, she has no brief for loose women!’
Jenna let James precede her up the stairs, following at a more leisurely pace as she paused to admire their sturdy oak construction. Although plain, the staircase had its own beauty. The wood had mellowed with age, the treads and banister worn smooth by many feet and hands. When Jenna touched the wood it felt warm and alive, and she paused to daydream for a few seconds, wondering how many other hands had touched the same spot, how many generations of people had lived, laughed and loved beneath this ancient roof. Unlike the old Hall, this house had a very definite aura of having been filled with busy people, of being used to bustle and hustle. It was a family home, Jenna thought reflectively. She could see them in it: the lodgekeeper with his brood of children and his rosy-cheeked wife. The girls would go in service to the big house, the boys on the land…
‘Jenna.’ She looked up, shocked out of her trance by the sound of James’s voice. He was standing at the top of the stairs looking down at her.
‘You were miles away,’ he told her. ‘I wonder where?’
‘Here,’ Jenna told him. ‘Thinking about the people who must have lived here…’
‘Mmm, it has a much more robust aura than the Hall, doesn’t it? One gets a far clearer feeling of people having lived here, rather than merely existed.’
His thoughts mirrored her own so clearly that Jenna found it impossible to speak. It was uncanny how he managed to read her mind—and it would have to stop. She had to have some defences against him, some private part of herself that would always be inviolate and protected.
‘I’ll go up to Sarah,’ she said, disconcerted to find herself slightly breathless. James stood to one side as she reached the top of the stairs but because of the narrowness of the landing, Jenna had to squeeze past him. For some reason she half stumbled, falling heavily against him. James steadied her, grabbing her waist, his fingers biting deep into her skin.
‘Are you okay?’