Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

to peer through the windshield, beginning to ease the car forward slowly up the rutted lane. Her hands were ice-cold, her breathing very shallow. Nick rubbed her hand gently. After finding another blanket covered in dog hairs, he laid it over her. With a sigh he nodded at the man's back. "Yes, please, " he said. "I'd be very grateful if you would take us to the hospital. "

Jo awoke in the hospital, disoriented and afraid, and meekly she submitted to a barrage of tests before at last she was discharged by a puzzled doctor who could find nothing more wrong than a possible allergy to electrical storms. Deeply relieved that she appeared to be all right, Nick phoned Margiad Griffiths and told her to expect them back in Hay that evening.

"You poor child. Come on up. I'll help you to your room, " Mrs. Griffiths met Jo at the door as Nick pulled their suit- cases from the car. "I'm just so very sorry you couldn't come here on Wednesday when you asked, but we were so full up, we were. " She took Jo's elbow in her hand and firmly guided her toward the stairs. "Your fiance said you'd share a room. I hope that is all right?"

Jo nodded wearily. "That's fine, Mrs. Griffiths, thank you. "

"And that nice Mr. Heacham?" Mrs. Griffiths asked curiously as she stopped on the landing, panting.

"Has gone back to London. He was a colleague, as I told you. "

The other woman sniffed loudly. "Colleague he might have been, my dear. But he was very much in love with you. But you know that of course. "

Jo gently removed her arm from Mrs. Griffiths's protective clutch. "Yes, I know, " she said bleakly.

"May we see our room?"

Jo jumped visibly as Nick's voice came from immediately behind them on the stairs. He was carrying their suitcases.

Flustered, Mrs. Griffiths threw open the door opposite them. "There, " she said. "I hope you like it. " She shot a nervous glance at Nick.

The room was a large one. Two single beds with a foot space between them faced the windows that looked out onto the street. The bedspreads and curtains were of primrose yellow chintzy material and the carpet moss-green. Jo walked to the window and threw it open, staring out at the quiet houses opposite. She was trembling slightly. "This is a lovely room. Thank you. "

Mrs. Griffiths preened herself visibly. "I wanted you to have the best this time, my dear. Now, Mr. Franklyn said you'd like supper in, so I've put on a nice piece of lamb. It'll be ready about eight, if that is all right with you. " She smiled from one to the other. "My Ted, he loved my cooking when he was alive. He always said my lamb roasts were the best he'd ever tasted. Now"—she looked around with quick confident possessiveness—"I think you'll find you've everything you need. But you've only to call downstairs if you can think of anything. " She glanced nervously at Nick once more as he opened the door for her and ushered her out, then he closed it firmly behind her.

He spun to face Jo. "So, even she could see that Tim Heacham is in love with you!"

Jo froze. Slowly she turned to face him. "Tim has gone back to London, Nick. He came here to take photographs. That was all. "

"Did you sleep with him?"

She walked across to the nearest bed and pulled her suitcase up onto it. "I didn't sleep with Tim, no. "

She had still been Matilda when she had slipped into Tim's arms, and he? Surely for a few hours he had been once again Richard, Earl of Clare. She looked up and met Nick's eye steadily for a moment before beginning to pull clothes from her bag. That hard suspicious face, the tightened jaw, the eyes cold with anger. He had changed again to that other Nick. The Nick who had made her so afraid because he reminded her of an arrogant Plantagenet prince. She swallowed hard, trying to put the thought out of her mind, shaking out her two dresses, hoping he would not see how her hands were trembling. "Are there any coat hangers in the closet, Nick?" She forced herself to sound normal. "I think I should change for this sumptuous dinner, don't you?" She gave him a hesitant smile. "I'll have a shower and get the smell of hospital out of my hair. "

He picked up his own bag and flung it on the other bed. "Right, I'll have one after you. " He grinned at her suddenly as he pulled out a fresh shirt. He was himself again.

Jo picked up her bathrobe and washing things and opened the door, glad to escape. She wanted to be alone, to think; to try to face the terrible suspicion that was becoming every second more real in her mind-—that Nick had once been John, King of England, the man responsible for her death.

She closed the door behind her softly and took a deep breath. Below her Mrs. Griffiths was climbing the stairs once again. She came to an abrupt halt as she saw Jo with her hand on the handle of the door.

"Miss Clifford, I forgot to tell you. After you left here on Wednesday a Miss Gunning called from London. She said I was to tell you if I saw you again to call her urgently. You can use the phone in the parlor if you like. "

Jo frowned. She glanced at her watch, then back at the bedroom door. "I might just catch her before she goes out. Thank you. I'll phone straight away. " She followed Mrs. Griffiths down the stairs. "She's my boss, in a manner of speaking, " she said apologetically as Mrs. Griffiths showed her the phone in what was obviously her private sitting room. "I'll pay for the call. "

Bet was in the bath.

"Jo? Thank Christ you've