Man Behind the Façade. June Francis

to that they might ever see each other again.

      Rebecca felt that sense of rejection experienced on waking as a child, knowing that her mother had not loved her enough to want her company. She sighed, knowing there was nothing else to do but to get on with life. She noticed that it was getting light. Time to get up. She dressed swiftly and as silently as possible and, lifting the latch with care, slipped through the gap between door and jamb. She went downstairs and outside to fetch water from the butt by the door. She had a drink, then she spotted Phillip’s gown and wig. She felt her pulses quicken. He would be needing them that day, so perhaps she should take them to him. It should not be so difficult to find the covered wagon he had spoken of.

      She fetched her cloak and set out towards Witney, hurrying up the hill, past a stream that dashed over rocks on its journey to the valley floor. The water was so clear that one could see the pebbles at the bottom and darting fish. It was as she rounded the foot of the hill that she caught sight of Phillip going up the hill in the direction of Draymore Manor House. Her heart leapt. The house was situated a short distance from the village of Minster Draymore and hidden by trees. How odd. Before she could call out to him, he disappeared from her sight. Had he come to collect the gown and wig and taken the wrong path? She set off in his wake. When she reached the brow of the hill she could see the surrounding area as far as the church spire of St Mary’s in Witney, but there was no sign of Phillip. She dithered, trying to decide whether to remain where she was and to watch out for his return or to walk to the manor house.

      Several birds flying up from the trees below made her think they had been disturbed by Phillip’s passing and she set off in that direction. She passed through the copse until the trees opened out to reveal an overgrown garden and a path in need of weeding that led up to front door of the manor house. It was a heavy door with studs on it and she had not really expected it to give way when she gripped the sturdy metal ring set in the wood, but the door creaked open. She hesitated before entering, remembering that Simon had told her to stay away from the house and not to take the children there as it was not safe. Even so, if the door was unlocked, that meant he must have forgotten to lock it yesterday.

      She placed the gown and wig in the corner behind the door and gazed about the hall. It was small in comparison to the one at Raventon; there was a pile of rubble and one of the walls appeared to be crumbling in places. She guessed that the building dated back maybe more than two hundred years ago to the time of Edward II who had married a French princess, Isabella. This royal lady had taken a lover called Mortimer, the first Earl of March, who had lived at Ludlow Castle. That Rebecca and her brother shared the same surname had caused Davy to wonder aloud whether they were descended from Mortimer and Isabella, who, if she had been a man, would have become the ruler of France. Such ancestry was what caused King Henry to fund the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles, betrothed to Henry’s daughter, Mary, to fight the French in the hope that at least his descendants would sit on the throne of France if Charles was the victor in that conflict. Rebecca was of the opinion that the closer one was to the throne, the more dangerous life could be. Mortimer, lover of Isabella, had been executed for treason, although she and their offspring had been pardoned by Edward III. She wondered what Phillip thought about King Henry and his ambitions in France and whether one day he would write a play about such stirring royal events from the past.

      She came to a decision and walked carefully across the hall to a door at the far end, noticing that some of the walls were blackened with smoke. She was startled by a shout and her first instinct was to head straight back to the front door and outside. Then she heard a banging and a crash; hesitating no longer, she ran towards the sound, almost tripping over a clump of fallen stone, thinking perhaps that Phillip might be under attack from ruffians. She came to a small chamber. The door was half off its hinges and on the opposite wall was shelving. Possibly it had once been a still room. There was a smashed jar on the uneven floor and a couple shrouded in cobwebs on a shelf. The room appeared to be empty, but cautiously she went inside to make certain, stepping over more rubble. The next moment she felt an arm go round her throat. Fearing she would be choked to death, she sank her teeth into the wrist of her attacker. Her captor released her and she wasted no time in trying to escape, but he seized hold of her again. With fists flying, she aimed for his chest, only to realise that it was Phillip.

      ‘Damn it, Becky, what are you doing here?’ he said harshly, seizing both her wrists and holding her arms aloft.

      ‘I was searching for you, but I didn’t realise that my attacker would be the person I sought!’ she cried. He released her abruptly and she fell against him. Instantly, she was aware of the hardness of his chest and the heat emanating from him as his arm slipped around her. ‘What a fright you gave me!’ she gasped. ‘I was convinced you were about to throttle me!’

      ‘I thought you were the ghost,’ he said drily. ‘As soon as you bit me, I knew better.’

      ‘Ghost! What ghost?’ She glanced about her.

      He hesitated. ‘The one Simon Caldwell believes he saw. I caught a glimpse of a figure a short while ago and called out to it, but then it disappeared, so perhaps there really is a spirit abroad.’ A faint smile played about his lips.

      ‘But you attacked me and I’m obviously no ghost,’ said Rebecca reasonably.

      ‘That’s because I heard footsteps and I thought only the living could be responsible for that and maybe it was someone who could intend me harm.’ He lifted his wrist and inspected the marks left by her teeth and cocked an eyebrow.

      ‘I’m sorry I bit you but it did the trick, didn’t it?’ She placed her hand on his and gazed at the red indentions. ‘I don’t think I’m poisonous, but perhaps some salve on the wound?’

      He made a noise in his throat. ‘At least I know you can defend yourself if necessary.’

      ‘Very graciously said,’ she murmured, looking thoughtful. ‘I wonder why Simon made no mention of a ghost to me.’

      ‘He did not want to frighten you,’ said Phillip, removing her hand. ‘Be careful where you step,’ he warned.

      The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Rebecca tripped over the pile of rubble and ended up flat on the floor. ‘Ouch, that hurt!’

      He went down on one knee in front of her and his blue eyes were dark with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘Just help me up, if you please,’ she groaned.

      He took her hand and jerked her to her feet without realising his own strength so that she was catapulted against him. This time he almost lost his balance and for several moments they swayed back and forth on the uneven floor, their bodies pressed against each other and their faces only inches apart. It was strangely comforting, thought Rebecca, in no hurry to have him release her this time.

      Then he kissed her.

      The temptation to taste her lips had been irresistible, thought Phillip. Her lips were as cool as spring water and as she made no attempt to pull away, he deepened the kiss and delved between their moist softness and captured her tongue. It was a while since he had kissed a woman and never had he found it so arousing. Then he remembered that she did not think much of a player’s way of life and dropped her like a hot brand and walked away.

      It was several moments before a now-seething Rebecca recovered her equilibrium and was able to pick herself up off the floor. Giles had never kissed her in such a thoroughly penetrating fashion, but neither had he ever used her so roughly. How dare Phillip kiss her and then cast her aside as if he couldn’t bear to look at her! Obviously he had no thought for her feelings at all. Hurt and anger coursed through her veins and, after taking several deep breaths, she marched out of the room, careful to avoid any obstructions.

      He was nowhere to be seen. Had he left her alone in this place, prey to ghosts or vagabonds? She made for the front door and there she found Phillip resting against the door jamb. She waited for him to speak, but after what seemed a long time, she came to the conclusion that he was not going to refer to what had happened. Well, she was not going to allow him to ignore the episode. It might be true that she had enjoyed the kiss, but if he was now regretting what had happened, she was not going