But he didn’t kiss Julia, stalk her around any rooms, say anything outrageous, mention a word to the children, press a heavy, antique, heirloom engagement ring on her finger or any behaviour of the like.
And Julia was immensely relieved (and secretly disquieted) by his behaviour. Even so, she did not let her guard down.
Julia watched and noticed that the children were responding to Douglas being home, Monique being mostly absent and Julia having charge of their care. They clearly enjoyed a settled regime that was far less strict and a house that also included the presence of their uncle.
The day after his proposal, Douglas had asked Sam to arrange an appointment for them at his bank to open an account for her. He’d met her there, already in the manager’s office waiting for her when she arrived. She completed forms and put up with the manager’s oily gushing to Douglas and herself.
The whole while Douglas sat back, one foot casually resting on the other knee, one arm possessively (she knew exactly his meaning this time) draped across her chair, watching her as if witnessing the completion of forms was the height of entertainment (which meant completing the forms was far more gruelling than it needed to be).
When they were finished and standing on the pavement outside the bank, he asked her if she’d like to go for a drink.
“No thank you, I need to get home to the children.” Her voice was filled with acid-fuelled politeness.
“Julia, they won’t spontaneously combust if you’re gone for a few hours.”
She’d given him a narrow look and stalked to where Carter was waiting for her beside the Bentley.
Like the gentleman he was apparently wanting her to believe him to be, he let her go.
The only glitch in his charade was the one time Douglas did come home in time for tea. After dinner, when the children went off to their homework, computer games and television, Julia had settled on the couch in the grand entry in front of a roaring fire that Carter had made. She was reading through some paperwork Charlie had sent her on charity organisations in the UK in preparation for the consultancy she would begin the next week. To her surprise, and under her distrustful eye, Douglas joined her. He had not changed out of his suit but had taken off his tie and jacket and loosened the collar of his deep green, finely-tailored shirt. He carried with him a book instead of work. Not any book, of course not, instead it was a Russian novel, printed in Russian no less.
She surreptitiously watched him read it for awhile and determined that he did, indeed read Russian. This shocked her but she was busy ignoring him, and doing very well at it, so could not, or more to the point would not, allow herself to comment (as she very much wanted to do).
Ruby was the first to break their hesitant peace, storming in with a loud complaint that Lizzie was watching a programme different from the one that Ruby wanted to watch.
“Ruby, you don’t need to shout. Uncle Douglas and I can hear you perfectly,” Julia told her niece firmly but kindly. “And I thought we agreed it was Lizzie’s night to choose what was on the telly.”
Ruby flounced away, seemingly accepting her fate but clearly unhappy about it.
Next it was Lizzie’s turn. She wanted something to eat.
“You don’t have to ask, honey,” Julia explained. “Do you want some help?”
“No, I’m okay,” Lizzie replied and slunk toward the kitchen, still in the depths of her despair but Julia had little time to respond to it when Willie arrived.
“Ruby just walked in and changed the programme,” he shouted angrily. “I was watching it and she said you told her –”
Julia started to rise but Douglas lithely beat her to it.
“I’ll take care of it,” he declared to her stunned surprise.
Willie stalked off with Douglas trying to match his uncle’s ground eating strides.
Julia gave it ten minutes then she went in search of them, her assumption being that Douglas would need some kind of assistance.
Willie and Lizzie were alone, eating potato chips in the lounge, watching television.
Douglas and Ruby were not there. Nor were they in the study or kitchen. They couldn’t have gone to the drawing room without her noticing them but she did use the back hall to check the billiards room, morning room and finally the library. No luck.
She climbed the stone staircase, her steps muffled by the deep-pile, rich burgundy runner and she found them in Ruby’s room.
Douglas was seated on the floor, his back to the wall, his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.
Ruby lay beside him on her back, her head on his thigh, her legs cocked with one foot resting on her other knee while she listened with rapt attention to him reading her a story, her eyes gazing dreamily at the ceiling.
Julia silently registered this shocking scene and crept quietly away before either of them saw her. She didn’t like what the sight of that scene made her think or feel so she tamped down any thoughts and definitely all feelings and went back to her work.
Douglas joined her some time later and informed her Ruby was in bed, asleep.