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Back The Scarlet Dress
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

‘Mrs deVillars invited you?’ Will had asked, jealous on many levels.

‘Yes.’

‘Why would she do that?’

Alice had rolled her eyes. ‘Because she feels sorry for me being here by myself and thinks it would be nice for me to meet some new people.’

‘She didn’t invite me.’

‘She probably asked your mother if you’d both pop by and your mother probably said: “No,” because she doesn’t like rubbing shoulders with Mr and Mrs deVillars in her spare time.’

This could have been true.

‘It’s OK,’ Alice had said, ‘I won’t be there long. I’ll have a couple of vol-au-vents, a couple of drinks, then I’ll come back. I’ll meet you later. Mrs deVillars will be upset if I don’t show.’

‘It wasn’t Guy who invited you?’ Will persisted.

‘No.’

‘Honestly?’

‘Honestly.’

That was what Alice had told Will. But the photograph told a different story. Alice had taken care of her appearance for the party. She was wearing a white dress that Will didn’t remember, those wedged sandals with the ribbons that tied around her calves, and her hair was straighter than normal, hanging to her shoulders, with a flower pinned above her right temple. Standing beside Alice, so close that their arms were practically touching, was Guy. Alice was looking towards the camera, smiling, holding a champagne flute, but Guy, Guy was staring, unashamedly, at the young woman beside him. He was looking at her as if they were a couple; with desire. He was looking exactly like someone who had invited the young woman he fancied to his mother’s birthday party as his date.

Even the memory of the photograph displayed so boldly was enough to make Will feel bad-tempered. He was convinced, now, that Alice had lied. It was Guy who had invited her to his mother’s party and she had agreed to go with him and she’d taken trouble with her clothes and her appearance for the event. She’d tried to look the part of Guy’s girlfriend and she had fitted in. What she’d said about Angharad turning down Mrs deVillars’ invitation had been nonsense; an attempt to appease him. None of the staff were at that party, not even John Morahan.

Will got up, brushed his teeth vigorously and took a dismal shower, the water trickling from the eyes of a scaled-up shower-head, before drying himself with a scratchy towel too small to fasten around his waist.

He wished he hadn’t seen the photograph, wished it hadn’t triggered these particular memories. He didn’t want to think of Alice lying to him. He didn’t want to remember her choosing to spend time with Guy deVillars when she could have been with Will.

Will had only met Guy once since he left Severn Sands.