Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(86)
“Sibyl, I don’t –”
She interrupted him as he interrupted her. “I’m just calling to tell you that my sister is here too.”
He was silent.
“It was a surprise,” she explained wishing she could be more excited about her sister’s surprise visit and blaming Colin for that too.
“I’ll inform Mrs. Manning of the addition,” he replied, though he sounded strangely pleased.
Sibyl seethed even more.
“Mrs. Manning?” Sibyl queried, her voice curt.
“My housekeeper,” he answered calmly.
“Oh.” Of course, Mrs. Manning, the housekeeper.
“I’ll send a car to collect you,” he added.
“Fine,” she bit out, knowing it was an order and not feeling she had a tight enough reign on her temper to fight him on it.
“Sibyl –”
“I’ve got to go,” and with a great deal of courage, she hung up on him.
Luckily and unfortunately, he did not call her back. Luckily, because she didn’t wish to speak to him. Unfortunately, because him not calling her back meant she had to worry if he was angry with her for hanging up on him.
Her family’s first evening in England was spent, to Bertie’s despair (although he quickly found himself listening to a comedy programme on BBC’s Radio 4), in Sibyl’s bedroom with Scarlett and Mags inventorying Sibyl’s wardrobe. Apparently, after Sibyl’s phone call several weeks before, Scarlett became alarmed at the state of her older sister’s apparel and decided it was high time for a fashion overhaul.
With clothes and shoes everywhere, Scarlett turned from the wardrobe to Sibyl, who was lying on the bed, and proclaimed, “Girl, you really need a little black dress.”
“And some of those peasant shirts. They’re very ‘in’ right now,” Mags added helpfully, sitting on the floor and sifting through piles of clothes.
“The dress is priority,” Scarlett decreed, her face contorting in hilarious distaste at the thought of a peasant shirt.
“And maybe some of those flowing gypsy skirts,” Mags ignored her younger daughter.
With the state of Sibyl’s wardrobe declared at a level Scarlett told her was called “dire”, the next day, while Bertie took the MG and went to Clevedon Library to research Lacybourne and do the other things professors did when they lost themselves for hours in libraries, the women took a taxi to the train station and went to Bath in search of a little black dress. They found three, as well as four new pairs of shoes (for Sibyl, Scarlett bought herself two). Scarlett relentlessly added two skirts, three pairs of trousers, a pair of jeans, several expensive, designer t-shirts, four blouses and a good deal of lingerie and sleepwear to Sibyl’s massive shopping take of the day.
Which meant Sibyl (and Scarlett) were both wearing little black dresses to Lacybourne.
Sibyl would have liked to have been wearing a potato sack to make her feelings about the evening perfectly clear but instead her dress was halter necked, the narrow, deep V showing more than a hint of cle**age (indeed, it went nearly to her midriff) and the hem of the skirt hit her two inches above the knee ending in a short, perky ruffle. The ruffle, Sibyl found, was the most annoying part of her outfit as she felt anything but perky. Her legs were bare and shone with some kind of lotion-slash-oil that Scarlett forced her to try (and, Sibyl thought, with professional detachment, she should add it to her spa inventory). Her feet were encased in a pair of beautiful, yet painful and extremely expensive, spike-heeled, elaborately strapped sandals.
Scarlett and Sibyl had nearly come to blows when Scarlett demanded Sibyl wear her hair up and Sibyl dug her heels in and wore it down. This was done in order to irritate the now-despised (Sibyl was telling herself) Colin. Once he found out the weight of her hair gave her headaches, he had begun the habit of bunching her hair in his fist and lifting its weight while kissing her, holding her and, once, just plain old standing close to her. She had thought this lovely. Now, since she fully intended to wear a pained expression the entire evening, she’d aggravate his conscience at the same time.
And now they were in the car driving through the slowly darkening night to Sibyl’s doom.
Lacybourne.
Bertie was going on about some star-crossed lovers who used to live at Lacybourne but Sibyl wasn’t paying attention even though Mags and Scarlett were listening to this dramatic story with unusually rapt attention. Sibyl was too busy with her new favourite pastime of controlling her temper and trying very hard not to cry.
The driver of the sleek, black limousine turned into the gates of Lacybourne and Sibyl held her breath.
She felt, inexplicably, that her life was about to change (yet again) and she convinced herself that it was not for the better (yet again).
The weather was holding out even though a storm was, for the first time in weeks, threatening and luckily, this time, there was no rain, thunder, lightning or misbehaved pets. As the car halted, Sibyl touched the place at her temple, just under her hairline, where a small, only slightly still pink scar was the physical souvenir of her first visit to Lacybourne.
The driver let out Mags and Scarlett on one side. Sibyl exited the other side with her father’s assistance. Once they’d alighted, Mags and Scarlett stood staring in wonder at the dramatically grand and beautiful manor house that lay before them.
Sibyl didn’t notice it and started toward the front door but her father stopped her by not releasing her hand and not moving.