Sommersgate House

Chapter Twenty-Four Unheeded Warnings

The press release announcing Lord Ashton, Baron Blackbourne would (very shortly) marry Ms. Julia Fairfax, an American and his sister-in-law, was met with shocked surprise.

A photograph was issued with the release, it depicted the couple standing side-by-side, his arm casually (but somehow possessively) wrapped around her waist. She was wearing a stunning (and many men thought, rather sultry) green-black dress and he was wearing a dinner jacket (and many women thought he wore it rather rakishly).

The men of Douglas’s set were not surprised that Blackbourne had fallen for the American. They made a handsome couple. If the many photos were anything to go by, she had style and an innate elegance, and, of course, a very nice set of legs. Ashton was known as a man of refined tastes and this choice for a bride further demonstrated that fact. Those few who had actually met her thought she was rather lovely indeed, for an American.

The women of Douglas’s set were surprised, and slightly gratified, that he had fallen for Julia Fairfax. He was notorious for the not-so-sweet but definitely young things he favoured as partners. That he would chose a woman, and not a twenty-something, world-weary, cynical, underfed wannabe said a great deal about the handsome baron. Those few who had actually met her found themselves not-so-surprised that Julia had managed to catch the eye (and the heart) of the renown womaniser.

Monique Ashton was verbosely displeased at the announcement.

Much sooner than she had expected that night she had taken him to Sommersgate in an effort to get him to sweep away the unwanted rubbish that infested her home, Sean Webster had appeared at the door to her room at the Bath Spa Hotel. He had been in an absolute rage and had said some remarkably unpleasant things to her. Indeed, she thought for a moment he might actually strike her. However, the management of the hotel heard the yelling and intervened, ejecting Mr. Webster with great force.

Monique went back to London the next day, already trying to decide her next course of action.

She would soon be finalising details on her new, and, she had to admit (if only to herself), wonderfully expensive and elaborate flat.

Upon arrival in London, Monique saw the splashy headlines about her son and was forced to endure phone call after phone call. Of course, Monique told all of her friends and acquaintances (and some people she was not so friendly with) exactly how she felt about the scheming little American her gullible son had asked to marry him.

Unfortunately, these conversations reached the ears of both Oliver and Charlotte Forsythe, (upon hearing the happy news, the former, extremely pleased for his friend, the latter, hysterically giddy with delight for both Julia and Douglas) which meant they very swiftly reached the ears of Douglas. Per usual, Douglas even-more-swiftly went into action.

Monique’s phone rang again only days after the official announcement. It was Douglas’s PA, Samantha, a girl Monique had very little time for but had to suffer because she was making arrangements for the new flat.

Upon Monique’s curt greeting, the distasteful Samantha said, “I’m calling to inform you that Lord Ashton has reneged on the contract for the flat. He also wishes you to know that your monthly allowance will cease effective immediately.”

At this news, Monique was stunned speechless.

Samantha continued. “He will reinstate you, at a quarter of your allowance and will purchase and furnish a flat for you, again, at a quarter of your budget, if you publicly and liberally declare your mistaken impressions of his fiancée and officially announce your approval of the match.”

“A quarter?” Monique’s voice shook with angry disbelief and just a hint of fear.

“He’s instructed me to tell you that you can take it or leave it,” Samantha returned.

The tone of the girl’s voice left Monique in no doubt she was enjoying this tremendously and Monique shook with humiliated ire.

She had long since gone through the trust funds her parents and her husband had left her. The generous allowance her son gave her monthly (and often augmented at her request) was her only source of income.

Furthermore, she’d never worked a day in her life. She certainly couldn’t (and wouldn’t) start now.

Monique was not a stupid woman (just an evil one), she knew when her son said something, he meant it.

Therefore, she had no choice.

“I’ll take it,” Monique snapped.

Later, Monique had to get herself a rather unladylike portion of sherry (and brought the bottle with her) as she sat by the phone and started to make her calls.

At Sommersgate, the news of the impending nuptials met with mixed reviews. Lizzie was beside herself with delight. Ruby, taking the lead from her sister, was equally thrilled. Nick, Ronnie, Carter and the Kilpatricks were all obviously awash with joy.

Willie didn’t quite know what to make of it all.

Formally, in the library, Douglas and Julia sat with the children and announced it the day after they’d agreed to marry. While Lizzie and Ruby danced jubilantly around their aunt and uncle, Willie stepped back, once, twice then fled the room without a word.

Julia was horrified and immediately moved to go to him.

Douglas caught her arm and murmured under his breath, “Let me.”

She did but not without pacing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her new kitten Fred (who was not very happy at being held and stroked when he wanted to play and, if possible, scratch the wonderful carpet runner on the stairs which was the perfect height for his little claws).

When Douglas descended the stairs, Julia turned fretful eyes to him. He encompassed her waist with his arms and looked into her eyes.

“Give him time,” he said quietly.

These were not the words Julia wanted to hear but she nodded anyway.

Two days later at dinner, the mood had not changed. Lizzie and Ruby and the rest of the household were still ecstatic. Willie was unusually quiet and still undecided.

After the main course was whisked away and the pudding about to arrive, Willie cleared his throat and announced he had something to say.

“Thank you, Uncle Douglas,” he started, his young voice sounding solemn, “for asking me to be your best man. But I’ve thought about it and decided, since Dad isn’t here to do it, that I should give Auntie Jewel away instead.”

Julia’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes quickly filling with tears slid to Douglas who inclined his head soberly at his nephew, his face communicating he felt this decision wise.

“That is,” Willie continued, his eyes on his aunt, “if you want me to, Auntie Jewel.”

She didn’t trust herself to say more than, “Please.”

Taking his cue from his uncle, he inclined his head (somewhat arrogantly, Julia noted with a hint of amused dismay).

Lizzie let out a snort, betraying her attempt to hold back her tears. At the noise, Julia let her emotions go and burst into uncontrollable sobs. Lizzie followed suit and Ruby, never one to be outdone, wailed louder than the two other females even though the four year old wasn’t exactly certain why she was crying. Douglas and the newly-anointed Will (who had, that evening at the dinner table, forever lost the youthful “Willie”) found themselves thrust into comforting the howling women. Douglas pulled Julia into his arms and then steeled himself when Lizzie threw her entire body weight against them and he included the young girl in his comforting embrace. Will, for his part, patted Ruby’s back awkwardly.

Mrs. Kilpatrick walked into this scene carrying pudding and after hearing the story haltingly told by Julia, she joined the caterwaul. So overcome was she, Douglas had to phone Roddy Kilpatrick to come see to his wife.

Douglas and Julia’s first row came less than twenty-four hours after Julia agreed to the marriage.

Indeed, the morning after.

“I’ll ask Veronika to move your things up here today,” Douglas murmured against Julia’s lips, the water from the shower falling on them, his soapy hands on her body.

She smiled but shook her head, moving her mouth from his, she paused from running her lips across his jawbone to reply, “I don’t think so.”

Douglas’s slippery hands slid over her behind, pulling her wet body closer to his. “I do.”

She laughed (probably too aroused to realise the seriousness of Douglas’s intent). “I’m not moving up here. The children don’t even know we’re getting married.”

“We’ll tell them today.”

She nodded her agreement but said, “We have young, impressionable children in the house, we can’t carry on like this.” She brushed her lips against his. “I’ll move up after the wedding.”

His hands slid up to tighten around her waist.

“You’ll move up today,” he ordered, his voice brooking no protest.

Her head jerked back, (probably at his arrogant tone which she immediately changed her mind about and most definitely did not adore).

“I will not!” she snapped stubbornly.

He pressed her against the wall of the shower.

“Yes,” was all he said, his fingers finding spots that would (with any normal female) get her to go along with his plan.

Not Julia.

Still, she gasped (she couldn’t help herself).

Then she stated firmly, “No!”

“Yes,” he growled, his mouth finding the area behind her ear that he knew would get her to acquiesce.

Unfortunately, Douglas again misjudged his bride-to-be.

“We cannot carry on an illicit affair under the noses of the children,” Julia retorted (but her reply lost some of its strength due to its breathy quality).

Douglas, not one to fight fair, lifted her effortlessly, spread her legs, pressed her against the wall and entered her in one fluid movement, his hands on her backside holding her aloft.

Her legs immediately wrapped around him.

“And what, pray, do we do about this…” he pulled out slowly and then surged forward, gratified to hear her moan deep in her throat, “in the meantime?”

She sucked in a shuddering breath.

“You… you’re going to have to be...” he moved lazily out and then swiftly in again and she paused to savour it. “Creative,” she whispered.

Compromise was reached as Douglas very much liked the sound of that.

And creative he most definitely was.

With less than two months to plan the wedding, Julia was forced to create an event that was worthy of the nuptials of Lord Ashton, Baron Blackbourne.

Luckily, she had the worthy assistance of Charlotte Forsythe, Margaret Kilpatrick and Samantha Thornton (and the long-distance support of Patricia Fairfax). Further, being a rather dab hand at lists, Julia was able to get organised and have plans underway in short order.

Douglas, coming home earlier than normal, much earlier, creatively earlier (that is to say, hours earlier than the children would arrive home from school and with the knowledge that Veronika had taken Ruby to a movie, this knowledge coming from the fact that he told Veronika to do so and gave her a two fifty pound notes for her troubles) strode down the hall to Julia’s room.

What he found upon opening the door was of great surprise as well as a little alarming.

Julia, wearing nothing but a rather fetching pale pink bra and panties that was liberally dosed with delicate black lace was being fondled by a tall, rail-thin, impeccably (if dramatically) attired and immensely effeminate man who, for reasons unknown, had yards of ivory silk wrapped around his own body.

“Douglas!” Julia cried.

“Julia,” Douglas responded, his face setting dangerously, his arms crossing on his chest and his stance settling belligerently.

The other man stepped back and brought a fluttering, open palmed hand to his chest.

“Oh my,” he drawled upon looking at Douglas.

“This,” Julia motioned to the man and then grabbed her cashmere robe and shrugged it on, “is Gregory.”

Douglas didn’t move, didn’t utter a noise, he simply glared.

“Oh my,” Gregory repeated, his eyes never leaving Douglas.

“Gregory will be designing my wedding gown,” Julia explained, hastily tying the belt of her robe.

Douglas, again, had no response.

Except he quirked a brow.

Julia went on. “He designed the dress I wore to the ball.”

This caused a slight softening of Douglas’s features.

Very slight.

“And,” Julia continued meaningfully, “I’m hoping to introduce him to Tony at the wedding.”

Douglas digested this information then nodded and, with unmistakable intent, strode toward his soon-to-be wife.

“Gregory, as delightful as it is to meet you,” Douglas’s voice was even and determined, his arm sliding around Julia, hauling her resisting body to his side, “I do think it might be time for you to have a break from your worthy endeavours and seek some refreshment.”

“Douglas!” Julia screeched, her voice high with mortification.

Gregory looked from Julia to Douglas, quickly read Douglas’s meaning and asked affably, “How much time do you need?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Julia quickly responded.

“Two hours,” Douglas said at the same time.

“Two hours it is.” Gregory, a romantic at heart, quickly exited, thinking maybe he should return in three.

So he did.

Julia was so happy, she could barely contain herself.

Life had most definitely taken a dramatic turn.

She still worried about the future (she couldn’t help herself). She also had moments of sorrow that she was not sharing these joyous times with Gavin and Tamsin. Further, she would, approximately six times a day (she started counting), have to stop herself from telling Douglas her feelings and would sometimes nearly let slip that she knew about his childhood (it was appallingly easy to drown in moments of tenderness when she was with him, which was often, very often).

Despite all that, Charlie’s prediction that even without any avowal of undying love from Douglas, life with him was better than any life she knew before.

And Julia savoured it sweetness.

He was possibly the most attentive, the most voracious, the most generous lover she’d ever had, in bed and out of it.

Indeed, if he were actually to love her, she might expire from the rapture of it because it could scarcely get better than this.

Although, in the deepest regions of her heart (where she had firmly and stubbornly buried it), she wished for that vow of love more than anything in the world.

She was humming to herself as she was getting ready for Valentine’s dinner. Douglas was taking her somewhere in Bath and they would be gone the entire evening, not to return until the morning, and she knew (happily) what that meant.

Ronnie, who also had a new boyfriend of her own, was home at her bedsit getting ready for her date. Carter was off for the evening. The Kilpatricks had taken the children out for a curry and would be watching them for the night.

Julia had the house to herself.

She had wrapped Douglas’s present, no cologne or tie this time, but a pair of gold cufflinks of Gavin’s which had also been their grandfather’s.

She had Patricia’s approval of this gift, indeed, as with everything that had to do with Douglas, she had Patricia’s approval, especially after Julia (in a moment of weakness and in deepest confidence) explained the Kilpatrick’s story of his childhood.

Julia had the cufflinks cleaned and put in a handmade box of cherrywood that was lined with black velvet. They had been (except for his wedding ring) Gavin’s proudest possession and Julia truly hoped that Will didn’t mind that Douglas owned them until such time as nature took its course (in, hopefully, about sixty years) and they came to Will.

She had spent an age getting ready, bathed, lotioned, powdered and made up. She donned her frock, made specifically for the night by Gregory. It was an absolute vision, a swathe of scarlet red satin, strapless and form-fitting, cut at the knees. In the back hem, frothing forth from a deep slit, sprung a dramatic poof of black tulle. She wore it with black, high-heeled sandals with peek-a-boo toes and a daring ankle strap.

It looked like something Marilyn Monroe would wear and Julia loved it.

She was affixing her diamond studs to her ears, her diamond watch to her wrist and had moved from humming to singing Dolly Parton’s I Will Always Love You.

She couldn’t wait to give Douglas his present. If she couldn’t tell him she loved him, she was going to do everything she could to show him.

Giving her cheekbones one last swipe of blusher, she felt the draught against her ankles and ceased her singing.

“Well, Lady Ruby, where have you been lately?” she asked the draught as if it would answer her.

To her surprise, the icy draught turned polar, freezing her ankles and drifting up her calves. It was so uncomfortable, Julia jumped away from it.

“Now, Lady Ruby, nothing is going to spoil my evening. Run along now and play with the kittens. They could use a good scare,” Julia suggested (though, not meaning it), walking swiftly out of her dressing room and into her bedroom to avoid the chill.

The sun had long set but, as Julia had been in the dressing for hours, she had not pulled the drapes. The scratching was there, louder than ever, and she saw that Archie was outside her window. The spectre was scratching frantically with both hands, looking like he desperately wished to come inside. His mouth was moving like he was shouting but no words were coming out.

Julia stared at the vision in horrified silence.

The freeze hit her ankles again, swirling around her calves and thighs and Julia staggered back from the frenzied Master while trying to escape his Mistress.

“What’s going on?” Julia breathed.

She felt as if the entire house swayed with motive, as if trying to voice some eerie foreboding.

Then she saw him by the illumination of the outside light.

Nick, running toward the front door. She knew from seeing him that something was wrong because he was running hell-bent-for-leather.

Julia’s heart leapt into her throat, panic seizing her at remembering another night not long ago when Douglas had come home with Nick, wounded and bleeding.

The draught of Lady Ruby moved, surrounding her, almost squeezing her but she ignored its clear warning, turned on her heel and fled the room, running as best she could on her slim heels towards the front door.

When she arrived, Nick had forced his way through the heavy front doors (doors that only Douglas seemed to have no trouble shifting) and was careening down the hall, motioning to her by flailing his arms.

He shouted, “Run, goddammit, Jules, run!”

And then the world tilted, the house darkened ominously, closing in on itself. It felt as if the stone walls flexed inward, the shadows everywhere lengthened, stretching out like claws as a gunshot exploded followed closely by a strange “ping” sound and Nick went down like dead weight, cracking his skull with a sickening thud against the flagstone floor.

Leaving Julia to face three men, all pointing guns at her and speaking what she knew was Russian.