Terence & Theresa
The Seeds of Revenge
Terence Crompton paced up and down the lawn, as boredom – his constant companion – made him restless.
The late-September sun warmed his back and bathed the stunning Hensal Grange in a soft light. He loved this place and always had done since, as a child, he’d visited his poor Aunt Laura, whose home this used to be.
Everyone always referred to Aunt Laura – the late Laura Harvey – as poor Laura. Dogged as she’d been by unhappiness, the description suited her memory, what with Laura losing her only child at birth and then losing her husband in the so-called ‘Great War’, before dying from TB at a very young age. Although, before doing so, Laura had rather blotted her copy book by committing the ultimate faux pas of falling in love with her stable groom!
That very groom was now the cause of most of Terence’s discontent, owning as he did the best stud farm in the county. And all courtesy of a very big slice of what should have been part of his inheritance from Aunt Laura.
‘That was a big sigh, Terence. You will become the master of sighs at this rate. For goodness’ sake, why don’t you do something with your life? Join the army, or something?’
‘Ha! You’re one to talk – lazing around, sunning yourself. I don’t see you, dear sister, engaging in useful employment.’
‘A privilege given to the fairer sex, dear.’
‘Oh, go away, Theresa. I can’t be doing with you at the moment. And your privileges should not be at the expense of Pater.’
‘And yours should, I take it? Anyway, that was not a kind remark. You know I can’t do anything other than rely on Pater, until my divorce from Raymond sorts itself out – at which time, half of what is owned by that wretched pansy I married will become mine.’
‘Have you heard any more on that front?’
‘Yes, his lawyers are trying for an annulment, as they are saying the marriage wasn’t consummated! And if they get it, that will be the end of that. So, would you have me out on a limb?’
‘You could live on your inheritance from Grandfather and Aunt Laura. You haven’t touched it yet.’
‘No. Unlike you, I let Pater invest it for the long term – which I am very happy about, because, with the money tied up, I can’t show that I have adequate means to support myself. If I could, I would lose most of what I stand to gain. Look, you know all of this, so why bring it up now? Mater and Pater are happy to have me home, so why can’t you be? You’re my . . . my soulmate – my twin, for heaven’s sake!’
‘Oh, sorry, old thing. Here, shift up and make room for me. We’ll snuggle up, like we always used to, and stop this fighting. We need each other, right now more than ever. Look, surely you could play the “Give me what I want, or I tell all” card?’
‘Yes, that is the next step – a quiet settlement and divorce, citing his adultery with a maid or something, within days of our marriage. Such a story will leave me embarrassed, but with my reputation intact.’
‘Your reputation! My dear, you haven’t had one of those since you were a youngster.’
‘Terence, don’t. I’m not in the mood.’
‘You never are, these days.’
‘Oh, shut up and get in!’
Theresa’s warm, delicious body welcomed him next to her in the ample-sized hammock. Slim and very pretty – in fact beautiful; the most beautiful woman he knew, and the female him, really – his twin had attributes that mirrored his own: he was tall and elegant, with dark hair and large brown eyes flecked with hazel and framed by sweeping eyelashes. They were both always at the centre of northern and London society, but they were lost, too.
At twenty-eight years old, they lived aimlessly from day to day and held a secret that burned into them both; but more so for Theresa, since her failed marriage. Thinking of which, fancy old Hawthorn – the school bully – turning out to be a faggot! Who’d have thought it?
Terence himself had suffered under the gang that the Honourable Raymond Hawthorn had accumulated around him. He’d taken him to task over it, too, when Hawthorn had stepped up as a beau to his sister. But then, as Theresa told it, Hawthorn had cried like a baby on the first night of their marriage, begging her to live a sham life with as many lovers as she wanted as long as she turned a blind eye to him having as many male partners as he wanted. It all beggared belief, as they said around here. But it pleases me, all the same.
As for himself, Terence had failed in his education and hadn’t taken up a position in the family bank – not that he couldn’t, as Pater would make a place for him, but he simply couldn’t face the humiliation of being unable to grasp the business. All those figures scared the hell out of him.
His only interest was racing horses. Riding them, breeding them and owning a top earner occupied all of his dreams. And that’s where that blighter Jack Fellam put an obstacle in his way. Pater wouldn’t hear of Terence starting a rival stud farm to Jack’s, even though Aunt Laura had run one from this estate that was in direct competition with Smythe’s Stud Farm, which Jack now owned.
All the stables Aunt Laura had built were still in good condition, but with Pater overseeing the business side of Fellam’s stud, he saw it as a betrayal of Jack Fellam’s trust if he funded Terence to run a similar business. His father’s objection was impenetrable. But, that aside, what stuck most in his craw was that Fellam had used the legacy Aunt Laura had left him to buy bloody Smythe’s Stud Farm in the first place. A legacy that should have come to me.
Aunt Laura’s affair with Jack Fellam had brought her nothing but pain, but she’d become riddled with guilt after she’d tried to stop Jack from marrying Megan, the woman he’d fallen in love with. And from what Terence had heard of the consequences of Aunt Laura’s actions, Megan Fellam had nearly been killed by the vicious man she was then married to, but had tried to escape from. All the same, Aunt Laura shouldn’t have tried to make amends by leaving Jack a huge slice of her wealth!
‘What are your plans, my little brother?’ Theresa often addressed him this way. She’d been born a full half-hour before him and thought it funny to emphasize the fact. He didn’t mind, as he adored her – when he wasn’t irritated with life, that is.
He pulled her closer to him. She didn’t scold him, but snuggled into him, as she knew he liked her to. ‘God knows. I know one day I will inherit all of this, but what is it, other than a beautiful country pile? I’ve no interest in administrating the estate side of things or running the farm, so I would employ a manager for that, as Pater does. And though I rue the proceeds going to Fellam, I’m jolly glad Pater sold the mine and that it took care of Fellam’s share of Aunt Laura’s legacy. Ugh! The very thought of being involved in mining repulses me.’
‘Yes, it was fortunate it fetched such a good price, otherwise we wouldn’t be living here, as there was very little money left once Aunt Laura’s estate was settled. At least the stinking mine did that for us. But, you know, sometimes I miss living in our own home in York. I wish the parents hadn’t sold our pile there. It would be lovely to go back in the winter for the party season.’
‘Oh, that doesn’t bother me. I prefer to go to London, and Christmas here is right up my street, with the house full of guests and the shooting parties and . . . Anyway, we digress. I am the topic of the conversation, and this isn’t helping me.’
‘Really, Terence, you can be so boring sometimes. Surely you can find something to do?’
‘Thank you for that. But no, finding a position in life is easier said than done. I have few options, sister dear. I can’t take up politics. Pater’s title – being an honorary one – doesn’t pass to me, so I don’t qualify for the House of Lords. And so I am stuck. That is, until I can do with my inheritance as I wish: a state of affairs that I am not looking forward to, as I don’t wish Pater’s demise, lovely old thing that he is. I am very fond of him, as you know, but it is Pater and his stubbornness that are stopping me doing what I want to do.’
‘Darling, there is a war on. Oh, I know – at only a few weeks old, nothing is happening yet, but it will. I have listened to conversations, and everyone believes it will be a long haul. Many lives will be lost, and much property destroyed. The economy will be a mess. There’s even talk that they will conscript all the young men. Racing and gambling will be the last thing on people’s minds. Shouldn’t you think about becoming an officer or a pilot, or something? Before all the best positions go, I mean. After all, if you don’t, you could find yourself having to take orders from the gardener’s lad.’
‘Heaven forbid! Besides, as you say, it’s early days yet, and I can’t see anything coming of it. It’s ridiculous: some screaming German chap bombing us! It ain’t going to happen, dear. Anyway, I fancy a smoke. Have you got yours on you?’
‘No, but I brought my bell out with me. I’ll ring for Frobisher. I think the old thing could make it out here. He can organize us some tea and bring some cigarettes out for us.’
‘It’s time he was put out to grass, poor thing. He must be a hundred.’
Theresa laughed at this. Her brother loved to make her laugh. Although Terence had said she shouldn’t be here, he hadn’t meant it. He was jolly glad she was. In fact, he didn’t know what he’d do without her.
Terence climbed out of the hammock and helped Theresa out. She linked his arm in hers as they walked over to the summerhouse, where they ordered their tea to be set. She looked lovely in her calf-length white linen dress, with its flowing skirt. She had picked up her straw sunhat, trimmed with a yellow bow, and placed it on her immaculately cut, shining hair. The picture of innocence that she portrayed suited her. They matched rather well, he thought – he in his white slacks and shirt, and sporting a yellow cravat.
They didn’t speak, and he found that his mind wouldn’t let go of the Fellam question. He needed to do something. The conversation he’d had with his friends, Godfrey and Cecil, came to mind. During the shoot in August, he’d told them of his feelings and ambitions and Cecil had said, ‘Well, why don’t we fix it? We could make it look like an accident. What about a fire?’
The notion had shocked Terence – even more so when he realized that not only was Cecil being serious, but that Godfrey agreed! Oh, he knew they were a couple of wild things. Rich beyond imagination, they looked for any prank to amuse them, safe in the knowledge that their money and position would bail them out, but he hadn’t thought they would go that far.
Why he was even mulling over the stupid idea was beyond him, but it did have some merit. It would finish Jack Fellam. Pater had said that the stables, buying the land and house and setting up his wife, Megan, in that dress-making business she ran, had taken all of Fellam’s inheritance. Yes, they were all making a good living – they weren’t wanting, and he supposed they were comfortably off – but not so as Fellam could start again. That would take an immense amount of money – money that, surely, his father would rather invest in his son than in some groom who had brought scandal to Mater’s family?
Convinced of this, the idea began to appeal to Terence. He would have to plan it well. No suspicion could fall his way, and no one must get hurt – not human beings anyway, although he supposed he’d have to destroy a few horses. That would be difficult, but then: needs must. As for Fellam, he owned acres of land that he used for no more than training and grazing the horses, so he could turn that into an arable farm. The country would need home-grown supplies. The government had already started to encourage people to grow their own vegetables during the last few months, when war had seemed imminent. Fellam would have to take up the challenge, as they all would. He’d make a good living from that. Nothing to worry about there.
Perhaps he should befriend Fellam: take an interest in his stables, maybe even offer to help out, on the pretext of wishing to acquire knowledge. Yes, that would be the thing. No one would think I’d have anything to do with destroying something that I took an interest in. I could offer to ride the horses – I’d love that.
Yes, suddenly the whole plan seemed a real solution: a fire would wipe out Fellam’s business in such a way that he couldn’t start again; and until the right opportunity presented itself to put that into operation, Terence thought, he himself could spend his time around those magnificent racehorses and studs.
Happy with his plans, he decided to talk to Theresa about getting involved with the stable. See how she reacted. If she didn’t suspect there was any more to it then he’d know it wasn’t a foolhardy plan. Anyway, whether it worked or not, just thinking about it had made him feel better. He started to run. ‘Come on, sis. Race you.’