Time After Time (7 page)

‘Whom have you been gossiping with?’ Penelope asked.

‘It’s not gossip if it’s true. And it’s
very
obviously true.’ Ellen continued to stare unabashedly across the room at Heath, who was deep in conversation with Harry.

Following her gaze, Penelope couldn’t help but admire Heath’s tall, lean physique—broad shoulders that tapered down to narrow hips. Every now and then he would push his hair back from his eyes, a gesture Penelope found totally endearing. He had a somewhat angular face, and when he smiled his mouth stretched into a lopsided grin that caused her heart to skip a few beats, making her marvel, yet again, at the effects he aroused within her.

As if sensing he was being watched, Heath looked up, meeting Penelope’s pale grey eyes.

He winked.

Penelope heard Ellen’s quick, shocked intake of breath as colour flooded her cheeks, staining them dark pink. She glanced away as the sound of his laughter wafted across the room to her.

‘I wonder which young lady will catch the eye of Mr Lockwood,’ observed Mrs Priscopp, choosing that moment to join them, oblivious to the situation Penelope found herself in.

‘I think we already know the answer to that question,’ Ellen replied, stifling a giggle and nudging Penelope.

‘Really? He has a preference already?’ Mrs Priscopp asked, speaking too quickly for either girl to respond. ‘I was hoping to arrange for
my Anne
to come for a visit, but I presume Miss Georgina has, of course, managed to secure his affections. She always accumulates a goodly number of suitors, although I suppose it is to be expected, being as handsome as she is and with her extraordinarily large income,’ Mrs Priscopp continued, ‘I only hope he has his own good income; I wouldn’t like to think he only showed a preference for Miss Georgina because of
her
income, although one could hardly fault him. Of course, every man—even a gentleman—must be concerned about income and make wise decisions when it comes to choosing a wife.’

‘I don’t think choosing a wife should be regarded as a simple financial matter,’ Penelope interjected, ‘and Mr Lockwood seems clever enough to consider all the implications involved when making a match.’ For some reason, Mrs Priscopp’s suggestions raised her ire. Was it because Mrs Priscopp viewed marriage as a simple ‘arrangement’, or was it because she assumed it was Georgina who’d caught his eye? She wasn’t sure, but she was surprised at the annoyance she felt, especially when she knew Mrs Priscopp—a respected but gossipy widow—meant no harm.

‘Does he indeed?’ Mrs Priscopp said, raising an eyebrow curiously at Penelope before continuing as if she’d never spoken. ‘I wish
my Anne
would come, but she is much in demand in London and simply
cannot
be spared. I think
my Anne
would be a good and suitable match for Mr Lockwood. Yes, I think they would make a
very
handsome couple indeed.’

‘My Anne’
was Mrs Priscopp’s niece who had become a frequent visitor to Broadhurst over the years. Both Penelope and Ellen were well acquainted with the rude, arrogant and conceited girl.

‘Oh, I’m sure he won’t be here very long,’ Ellen said hastily, shooting Penelope an amused glance. Penelope had somehow managed to maintain a dignified manner despite Ellen’s giggles, Mrs Priscopp’s ludicrous comments, and Heath’s dark eyes watching her every move from across the room. Of course, it was the latter that had the greatest effect on her.

‘Oh, really? That is a shame,’ Mrs Priscopp observed. ‘But, of course, if he
is
taken with Miss Georgina then I’m sure he will become quite a regular visitor to Broadhurst?’

‘Well, that would hardly be of any use to Anne then, would it?’ Penelope pointed out, her tone harsher than she meant it to be.

‘Well, no, but I’ve heard nothing of an engagement or even attachment really,’ Mrs Priscopp said, turning to watch Heath, unaware of where his gaze fell. ‘Perhaps I should invite
my Anne
down sooner rather than later. Yes, I think I’ll speak to her mother and organise it posthaste.’

She moved away to Georgina, who chatted politely with the busybody and smiled cordially. Ellen likewise excused herself to speak with Harry, leaving Penelope alone.

But only for a moment.

‘I’m looking forward to hearing your father speak tomorrow,’ whispered a familiar voice in Penelope’s ear. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled, and she drew a jagged breath.
Will I ever get used to him? In a hundred years, in a thousand, will I ever get used to him?

Turning around to face Heath, her face lit up as she met his dark, heated eyes. Tiny golden flashes smouldered in them like a slow-burning fire.

She swallowed. ‘I do hope you find our simple country service interesting, and not dull and boring compared to the fine sermons and lectures you must hear at Cambridge.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ he replied easily, ‘And as to it being a simple country service, I can assure
you
, Miss Penelope, that I have found nothing in Broadhurst to be dull or boring in the least—quite the opposite really.’

Penelope flushed at his words, wondering if it was his intention to be suggestive or if she just imagined it. Hoped for it. A slow warmth spread through her limbs, and she diverted her gaze, staring out the window and across the wide expanse of lawn in the direction of the parsonage.

‘Penelope,’ he began conversationally, lightening the mood, ‘tell me, do you ride? I know you like to walk, but do you enjoy
all
outdoor exercise?’ His reference to riding only reminded Penelope of the rider she’d seen on her way to the Manor.

The rider that had provoked such fear, who had towered over her and gazed at her with unnaturally silver grey eyes. The same man had stood at the edge of the forest, watching her.

Flicking her gaze to Heath, she pushed all thoughts of the rider to the back of her mind. The feelings
he
elicited were entirely different to the ones Heath managed to arouse, the stirrings of pleasure in the pit of her belly a far cry from the sense of overwhelming fear she’d felt upon spying the rider. Of being
spied upon
. Of being hunted.

Immediately she dismissed such ridiculous thoughts. Hunted. Spied. Those were horrid words that had no place in her world. They were nothing more than products of her imagination. It had simply been a man out for a ride. Nothing sinister. No reason for her to have such irrational fear.

Yet, she trembled.

‘Are you okay?’

Glancing up, she met Heath’s concerned brown eyes. Swallowing her anxiety and pushing images of the dark rider to the back of her mind, she struggled to remember what he’d asked.

Oh, riding.

‘Very poorly, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘I’ve never had much practice and prefer my own two legs and the ground beneath my feet. Georgie is the expert horsewoman in our family. She rides exceptionally well.’

‘And where do you like to walk?’ he asked, ignoring her compliment of Georgina.

‘Oh, anywhere,’ Penelope replied. ‘The meadows. Broadhurst Manor—I enjoy walking the grounds and, of course, the forest.’

‘Perhaps I could join you on one of your walks,’ he suggested, ‘and you can show me some of the countryside. No one knows the country better than one who walks it.’

Penelope beamed, relaxing slightly. ‘I’d be delighted to.’

‘Excellent,’ he replied. ‘I’m thoroughly enjoying Broadhurst and all the sights it has to offer. I do so hope to see much more of it, much more indeed.’

Penelope stayed overnight at Broadhurst Manor, which wasn’t unusual. Being a regular visitor she had her own room set aside on the third floor, separate from the other family members. The chamber was as familiar and comfortable as her room at the parsonage, albeit slightly larger and more elaborate.

After the last of the guests had been bid goodbye, Penelope and Georgina looped arms and made their way upstairs. Downstairs, Harry, Heath and Uncle Henry were left to their port and cigars.

‘Mrs Priscopp is inviting
her Anne
to visit,’ Georgina observed.

‘She told me.’

‘Well, you simply must secure Mr Lockwood’s affections before that very disagreeable girl gets here.’

‘Georgina!’

‘Well, if I was only suspicious before, after observing you both tonight I am certain of his growing affection for you,’ Georgina said.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Penelope said, secretly pleased. The corners of her lips itched with a smile.

Georgina eyed her. ‘Oh, I think you know well enough what I mean. Neither I, nor any other, have any hope of Mr Lockwood falling in love with us when he is so obviously enamoured with you.’

Penelope remained quiet but felt like she was glowing from the inside out. The sound of Heath’s laughter wafted up to them from downstairs, warming her heart even more. She felt as if she might actually burst.

‘I shall keep him here for you,’ Georgina whispered conspiratorially, ‘I’ll tell Harry not to let him go until he has proposed! We shall make him our prisoner of sorts!’

Penelope shivered at her words. ‘Georgie, you will do no such thing! We know nothing about him.’

‘Wasn’t it you who said that didn’t matter, so long as his manners and conduct were acceptable?’ Georgina pointed out.

‘Yes. I suppose I did.’

They reached the point on the stairs where they parted for their rooms. ‘Goodnight, Penelope.’ Georgina hugged her, eyes twinkling with mischief and delight. ‘Sweet dreams.’

Once in her chamber, Penelope took her time preparing for bed.

Brushing out her long, pale hair she mulled over the evening, thinking of how attentive Heath had been and how glorious he made her feel. She trembled, recalling the feel of his warm, brown eyes on her, consuming her, and how his smile made her heart flutter and catch in her throat. She wondered what might happen if he ever actually touched her, if his lips ever kissed hers.

How she wished she had a mother to counsel her, to provide guidance in matters of the heart. Her mother had died when Penelope was young, and she had only vague memories of a pretty, gentle lady. Sometimes, Penelope would sit near her mother’s grave and talk to her, even though she knew well enough that ghosts couldn’t talk. But maybe they could hear.

She was just climbing into bed when she heard a noise outside her room. She paused. It came again, a soft flutter that was almost indiscernible. Climbing down and pulling on her robe, she went to investigate.

It was dark in the corridor, her room set too far away from the other family members for them to be the cause of the disturbance. The only light came from the glow of the lamp in her bedroom behind her, which cast eerie shadows along the wall and illuminated the faces in the ancestral portraits.

She scanned the length of the passage. It was quiet and empty. She heard nothing except the evening sounds that belonged to Broadhurst Manor and were comfortingly familiar. But for some inexplicable reason she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Like she was being watched.

A cold breeze blew into her room and she shivered. There were no windows open. Staring hard into the darkness she thought she saw the brief flicker of a shadow, as if someone lay hidden in the corner, shielded by inky darkness. Like a spider, waiting to ensnare its prey.

‘Is someone there?’ she called, her voice echoing in the corridor. She felt a little silly.

When no one answered, she shut her bedroom door, closing it with a solid thud and pressing it securely. Hesitating for just a moment, she locked it, turning the key quickly and stuffing it into the pocket of her robe. It was the first time she’d ever locked her door at Broadhurst Manor.

Present day

I woke the next morning to the sounds of Evanescence’s
My Immortal
coming from my cell phone by the bed.

It was Beth and it was only seven am.

‘What’s up?’ I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

‘My mum took her car and mine’s still in the shop.’

I read between the lines and groaned, ‘No. Not the bus!’

‘If you left now you could walk?’

Silence greeted that suggestion.

‘You could call Laura?’

‘She lives across town,’ I complained, ‘and Meredith has already left.’

‘Sorry, Abs,’ Beth said, sounding genuinely apologetic, before she hung up.

The bus was the epitome of hell for me, as Lilly and Emma were regular travellers of it, a fact that I found odd for popular teenage girls. Nevertheless, catching the bus would provide Lilly and Emma with riotous entertainment and me with some form of humiliation.

Damn
, I thought,
Maybe I could skip today
. But I never cut, and besides, I had an idea for my painting of Broadhurst Parsonage.

I shivered, thinking back to Broadhurst, where I’d been just moments before Beth had rung. How I wished Penelope was as aware of these double lives as I was. If only there was a way to warn her, to make her alert of the threat stalking her. Of the man with the terrifyingly beautiful silver grey eyes.

Rolling over, I stared at the ceiling. I envied Penelope. Envied all the other forms of me who’d been blissfully unaware. Ignorance was something I’d never have—not in this lifetime, at least.

After locking the front door, I hurried down the path, not wanting to be late for the bus. It picked up at the end of the street but never seemed to arrive on time, arriving ten minutes either side of schedule. Thanks to Beth, I hadn’t needed to catch the bus for months, and I had hoped to never face it—Lilly with it—again. But there was no point in being annoyed; it wasn’t Beth’s fault, and I hadn’t quite saved enough money to afford my own decent car. Not if I wanted to get out of Brookdale anyhow.

‘Abbie!’

I froze at the sound of a male voice calling my name. Even though he’d been at school for nearly a week, he hadn’t spoken to me since that first day in art. Still, I knew his voice. Knew it very well, even without the strong English accent.

Gathering my wits, I began walking again. I didn’t even look in his direction.

‘Abbie! Hey, wait up!’ The sound of footsteps running to catch up meant I had no choice but to turn around, though I did briefly consider running away.