Chapter Twelve #2
‘Fine,’ he says, standing up so quickly his chair squeaks over the floor. ‘Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.’
‘And maybe I should warn Arabella about what you’re up to with Gerrish,’ I say.
That puts the blood out of his face all right.
But then he swallows, gives a thin smile.
‘Am I supposed to be afraid of your threats?’ He looks down his nose at me, disdain clear on his face.
‘You don’t belong here. You are nothing.
Sign the deed, don’t sign the deed. You should know by now that people “like you” – as you put it – can’t win against people like me. ’
I don’t wait around to hear any further insults.
Standing sharply from my own chair, I go stomping out of the study, slamming the door behind me, loud enough to set all the picture frames in the corridor rattling.
Can’t bring myself to care – let them fall, let them smash!
My pulse is roaring in my ears, like a storm at sea.
I push through the next door into the drawing room.
Arabella is curled up on a nest of cushions in front of the fire, reading a slim book. Tennyson. She doesn’t look up as I enter, just turns a page and says, almost to herself, ‘How was it?’
‘Your cousin! I swear to God, I could kill him.’
She glances at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘Goodness, what did he say?’
I shake my head. ‘Where’s that property deed, then? I’ll sign it right here and now.’
If Arabella’s surprised by this sudden change of heart, she doesn’t show it, just dog-ears the book to mark her place, then sets it down. Hauls herself up from the cushions. ‘I left it in the library, I think. Shall we go through?’
Without a fire on the go, the room has a deep chill to it.
I catch a damp, musty smell – paper gone to rot.
Arabella lights one of the reading desk lamps.
As she rummages in the drawers, my spitting rage cools into something more calculated.
I have time to wonder if I’m being thoughtless, letting Reacher’s words goad me into a decision that I otherwise wouldn’t have made.
She doesn’t give a rat’s shit about you.
But then I picture his smug, toadish face.
Anything to wipe that mocking smile off it. I do belong here.
‘Voilà!’ says Arabella, pulling out a fountain pen and a crumpled sheet of paper, before moving aside some clutter to set both on the desktop.
‘Let me have a look, then.’
Instead of moving for me to pass, she steps closer, reaching up to brush a thumb against my cheek.
‘You know, you are adorable when you’re fired up like this!
’ Her smile is all teeth. ‘Remember that first time you walked in here, practically frothing at the mouth because you thought I was about to dismiss you? God, I wanted you right then and there. I think that’s what they call love at first sight.
’ She must see a change in my expression, as she hesitates, withdrawing her touch. ‘What?’
‘You just said love.’
She turns her face away quickly, a rosy flush rising in her cheeks, like the arrival of dawn. ‘No, I didn’t.’
Placing my hands around her waist, I bring her close, pushing my face up to hers. ‘Yes, you did!’ I’m smiling now, enjoying seeing her like this, her shell cracked open to reveal the warm innards.
‘Well, I didn’t mean to. And I shan’t say it again.’ A deep breath. ‘But yes … I do, as a matter of fact.’ She meets my eye, then pushes me away, holding her hands up over her face to shield it. ‘Oh, stop looking at me! You are making me embarrassed.’
Despite her words, she’s struggling not to giggle as I catch hold of her wrists, moving them down. I lean in to kiss her on the chin, the forehead, the mouth.
And in the back of my mind, a small voice asks: is this love?
Being around Arabella excites me. She’s like a blazing fire under every inch of my skin.
Like a beast trapped in my abdomen, trying to gnaw its way out.
Like the shuddering feeling of holding your breath till the moment you think your lungs are about to burst. I love the way she looks at me – hungrily.
I love her careless laughter. The animal smell of her body.
Her nails against my skin. The quiet triumph she can never keep from her face when she’s about to take a trick at cards.
How she makes me feel wanted. No longer alone. Is that the same as loving her?
Arabella pushes me away again, straightening her cuffs where they’ve ridden up her forearms. ‘Come on then, Faustus, sign away your soul.’
‘Funny,’ I say, shaking my head. Pick up the fountain pen and start to read the deed. Still not convinced this will stand up before the bank. ‘Shouldn’t we have a witness?’ I ask.
‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll send it to my solicitors tomorrow and they can sort out that side of things. Like I said, they used to do this all the time for Daddy.’
I hover the pen nib over the paper.
‘Wait,’ says Arabella. Confused, I look up at her. A struggle is happening behind her expression. But then she shakes her head, swallows. ‘No – never mind. You go ahead.’
So I sign my name. Well … I sign a name. And now, however temporarily, Harfold Manor belongs to Miss V. Morgan. The Lascy family claim swept away as easily as cobwebs in the morning.