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Back The Scarlet Dress Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. Friday
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. Saturday
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. Sunday
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. One Week Later
  77. 71
  78. Afterwards
  79. 72
  80. Acknowledgments
  81. Reading Group Questions
  82. More from Louise Douglas
  83. About the Author
  84. About Boldwood Books

There was an arched gate set into the stone wall that surrounded the gardens of the Big House. This was the way Camille deVillars must have come into the holiday park and this was the way they left it. They followed a paved pathway to the back door, which was ajar.

It opened into the boot room. Will placed Mrs deVillars gently into an old armchair. Her head, with its mass of white hair, fell forward. Her skin was grey and she was shaking. Marnie tied TT’s lead to the door handle.

‘Will you stay here while I go and find help?’ Will asked. Marnie nodded and he disappeared into the house.

Marnie turned on the electric radiator and directed it towards the old woman. Then she took a towel, knelt on the tiled floor and lifted Mrs deVillars’ feet into her lap. She took off her slippers and patted her feet dry with the towel. They were long and thin, icy cold. Marnie remembered all the kindnesses Camille deVillars had heaped on her as a child; the hours she had spent trying to counsel Marnie out of her muteness, and then, when that didn’t work, teaching her the basics of sign language.

‘You’re a good girl, Marnie,’ Mrs deVillars said now in her frail, old woman’s voice, as if she was remembering the same times as Marnie. ‘I was always very fond of you. Poor little thing, losing your mama. You didn’t deserve that.’

Marnie kept her face hidden, cleaning carefully around a scratch on Mrs deVillars’ heel.

‘She didn’t deserve it either,’ Camille deVillars continued. ‘It wasn’t good for Denise being here. I used to say to Edward that it would be better if the Morahans went somewhere else, but Edward thought the world of John and…’

Footsteps were approaching, voices. TT stiffened and stared at the door, a growl in his throat. The door swung open. Mr deVillars swept into the room with the nurse and, behind them both, Will Jones.

‘Oh, Camille, my darling girl, whatever have you been up to?’

Mr deVillars leaned over Camille so that Marnie was obliged to shuffle out of the way. He took his wife’s hands in his, held them to his lips.