Emma Darcy - Australia - In Bed with Her Groom

It had a halter neckline, which she dressed up with gold chains. She fiddled with her hair, achieving a smooth dipping loop across Her forehead before sweeping the bulk of it into a soft chignon. A few strands were left curling around her ears, to which she attached long dangly earrings in jet and gold. Her T-bar black suede high heels had been an extravagance—she loved shoes—but they lent a touch of true class.

She applied more make-up than usual, darkening and adding definition to her eyelashes with mascara and deepening her lids with a smoky eye shadow. The black dress demanded red lipstick and a touch of blusher on her cheeks. A dusting of powder took the shine off her nose and added a smooth matt finish to her skin.

An examination of her reflection in the full-length mirror assured her she couldn’t look any better. She dabbed some Beautiful perfume on her pulse points, picked up the black Oroton evening bag that had been a gift from Roger so long ago, then went downstairs, still feeling at odds about having to mix with other people when she would much rather stay at home.

It was a measure of how deeply Harry had infiltrated her life. When she had accepted the invitation from Olivia she had felt quite pleased about it. Her social calendar usually ran to lunches with friends she had made through business, or casual barbecues with families who had a child in the same class as William. She was neighbourly and supported community interests, but she wasn’t really close to anyone.

It had seemed enough before Harry. She had not been discontent with her life. Being single was a relief after marriage to Roger, and having kept so much to herself for the sake of appearances during the unhappy years with her husband, she had never developed the knack of cultivating bosom friends to whom she might pour out her heart.

She was a good listener, a sympathetic listener, and she thought she was generally liked by others, but no-one really knew her. Not as Harry did. She had told Harry things about herself, thoughts and feelings, she had never told anybody. He had somehow drawn that depth of intimacy from her, and now she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

It struck home that if she didn’t commit herself wholly and solely to him, Harry would leave an enormous hole in her life when he returned to Springfield Manor. In William’s, too, she suspected. Perhaps it was time she stopped existing in a wonderful dream and started considering the reality of a future in England. This party tonight might serve to put Harry’s influence on her in perspective, bring her feet to the ground.

He and William were in the dining room, their miniature battle lines in place on the table. They were discussing the rules of their war game when she entered, but they broke off their conversation as soon as they saw her.

‘Wow, Mum! You’re sure dressed up tonight!’ William remarked in surprise. ‘Is it a special party?’

She shrugged, feeling somewhat self-conscious about her uncharacteristic attempt at glamour. ‘I just wanted to look good and feel good.’

‘Then you’ve more than achieved your aim,’ Harry said warmly, his eyes agleam with appreciative interest as they skated over her from head to foot and returned to linger on the loosely tied bow at her waist, obviously the key to unwrapping the package. ‘Feeling good is important,’ he added, his gaze lifting to hers in wickedly innocent inquiry. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

Her pulse leapt in anticipation of how he would help later tonight. She could feel her body prickling with excitement as she imagined his hands teasing her dress apart, his head bending to…

The telephone rang.

‘I’ll get it,’ William offered, oblivious of the shimmering tension between Harry and his mother. He darted to the kitchen, leaving them together.

‘I’m not sure I should let you out of my sight, dressed like that,’ Harry murmured, his eyes ablaze with desire.

‘Afraid of competition?’ she teased, secretly revelling in feeling sexy.

‘No. But if the men at Olivia Stanton’s party get out of hand, don’t hesitate to call in the cavalry.’

She laughed. ‘That’s never happened to me.’

‘Ashley, you’re radiating your awareness of your own sexuality. That stirs a man’s hormones. All my hormones are rioting over you right now. I have an intense urge to smudge your lipstick and—’

‘Mr. Cliffton,’ William called excitedly. ‘It’s for you. Come quick. It’s from England.’

‘Uh-oh!’ Harry grimaced an apology and left her to answer the summons.

Trouble at Springfield Manor? In some trepidation, Ashley followed him into the kitchen, not wanting anything to change now, irresistibly drawn to eavesdrop on his side of the conversation. William handed the receiver to Harry and shamelessly stood by to listen, fascinated by the fact of an international call.

‘Cliffton.’

Apparently that was identification enough for the caller. What followed was not exactly enlightening.

‘Yes, sir,’ Harry said.

After a pause, ‘No, sir.’

It had to be his boss at Springfield Manor. Ashley couldn’t imagine Harry sirring anyone else. The heat that had been pumping from her heart cooled into a frightening chill. She desperately didn’t want any interference to what Harry had started with her and William.

‘That would seem improbable at the moment, sir. I have my hands full. Given more time…’

The interruption must have been a very peremptory one because Harry instantly stopped to listen. The reference to time did not bode well.

‘I understand, sir.’

A long pause. Ashley felt her whole body tensing with apprehension.

‘Arrangements can’t be made in a day, sir.’

A brief reply.

‘Very well, sir. I’ll keep you informed.’

That gave Ashley hope of a longer stay for Harry. However, the ensuing silence was obviously thick with words from the other end of the line. Instructions, orders…

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.’

Harry hung up with a heavy sigh and turned to the two expectant faces hanging on his news. He addressed Ashley, a rueful smile accompanying his announcement.

‘That was George Fotheringham, the master’s voice.’

‘What does he want?’ she asked anxiously.

‘He misses me.’

Who wouldn’t miss Harry?

‘He says a good butler is irreplaceable.’

He was. Irreplaceable in every sense. Ashley couldn’t argue with that.

‘Does that mean you can’t be our butler any more?’ William asked plaintively, and Ashley sensed her son feeling a pit of emptiness opening before him, just as she did.

‘He insists that he needs me at the Manor,’ Harry stated in a tone that made it an inevitable reality.

Ashley frantically sought a delaying tactic. ‘What about your mission?’ she pleaded.

‘Yes,’ William instantly backed her up. ‘You haven’t learnt nearly enough about us yet, Mr. Cliffton. I haven’t told you any of the stuff Mum doesn’t know about.’

‘William!’ Ashley was distracted by the horrors of misbehaviour this confession implied.

‘It was for your own good, Mum, so as not to worry you,’ he hastily and piously explained.

‘As it happens,’ Harry drawled, capturing their attention again, ‘Mr. Fotheringham has come up with a solution that he hopes will prove satisfactory to both of you.’

‘What?’ William asked eagerly.

Ashley held her breath. Her eyes clung helplessly to Harry’s. Was he about to reveal the truth about William’s position?

His smile had a winning appeal. ‘That you accompany me to England for a month’s visit at Springfield Manor. All expenses paid, of course.’

‘You mean we get to fly on a jumbo jet and…’ William raved on, delirious with excitement at the prospect of the great adventure being held out to him. ‘Every night ghost hunting…’