Enough was enough.  Sarah had had too much time just standing there feeling afraid, quaking at every word uttered by her cruel and unbalanced stepmother. If her life and that of the sexy, handsome Hugh St. Owen indeed were threatened, then she had to face up to those threats.  Sarah ran down the narrow hallway. She bounded up the winding staircase to the first landing. This time Vivien was not going to get away with her ugly curses and intimidation. Sarah ran so fast that she almost collided with Morfydd, the young maid.
“Where is she?” asked Sarah, almost out of breath, “Where is my stepmother?”
The startled young girl’s eyes widened. She briskly pointed up the next flight of stairs.
“I think she went to her room, Miss,” said Morfydd. Concern and surprise were in her voice.
Sarah brushed past her. She started to ascend the spiral staircase to the top floor of the house. The low rumble of the passing storm and the occasional flash of lightning lit up an even dimmer staircase than that on the lower level. Even though Sarah was in a hurry, she had to be careful to avoid an accident. For the middle of the afternoon the house seemed unusually dark and forbidding. Sarah reached the top landing. She looked around, peering through the gloom. She had never been on this floor of the house before. Most of the bedrooms were situated on the first floor. Vivien obviously wanted more privacy. But where was her bedroom? Sarah’s eyes soon got used to the weak light. She could see an open doorway about half way along the landing. Sarah pushed it open. She entered the room.
Even in the dim afternoon light coming from a window, Sarah could see nothing unremarkable. Before her was a small sitting room. It looked like part of a small suite of inner rooms. There was a comfortable ottoman and couch, a couple of chairs and another half way open doorway. Sarah walked across the room and pushed at the inner door.  She nearly jumped out of her skin. The door creaked loudly as it swung open. Sarah shivered. Spooky. There before her was a bedroom. A very ordinary looking room. But the unmistakable odor of gin and sherry hung in the air. Vivien’s room, all right, thought, Sarah.  The usual satin sheets and velvet drapes adorned the bed and the walls respectively. The curtains were closed. A soft pink light glowed from a very feminine looking pink night lamp. It was placed close to the queen-sized bed on an antique bed table. Vivien was nowhere to be seen. Everything looked deceptively harmless and non-threatening. Sarah looked across the room. There was another open door. Sarah could see that it led into a rather old fashioned looking bathroom. But at the other end of the room there was another door. This one was closed. A closet, perhaps? It was now or never. Sarah hurried across the room and turned the doorknob on the closed bedroom door. It was locked. Sarah turned to go. Suddenly she thought she heard a sound. It was like a low moan. It was coming from the other side of the locked door. Sarah jumped again. She felt absolutely petrified. What was going on?
“Ooooooooooh!  Ooooooooooh!” The moan started up again.
“I must get out of here!” Sarah exclaimed aloud.  All at once she felt claustrophobic. She wanted a confrontation with her stepmother, but not like this. She commenced walking out of the bedroom and into the little sitting room -right into the arms of her father.
“Sarah! Whatever is the matter?” said the astonished Doctor, “You look as white as a sheet.”  The old man looked down at his daughter with what seemed to Sarah like a mixture of genuine concern and obvious annoyance.
“Father,” said Sarah, “How did you know I was up here?”
“Morfydd tore into my study and told me that you seemed in a terrible state and were heading for Vivien’s room. I left a surgery full of patients to come up here.”
“Morfydd needn’t have disturbed you,” said Sarah, “It wasn’t an emergency. Morfydd was exaggerating.”
“Even so, what are you doing in Vivien’s room?” her father asked.
Before Sarah could answer, she heard a voice behind her father. It was that of Morfydd.
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but you did seem in quite a state,” said the young maid. “I was very concerned for you.”
Sarah relinquished her father’s arms and straightened up.
“Thank you, Morfydd,” she said, “But it really wasn’t necessary.”
The young maid blushed and lowered her head.
“You can go, Morfydd,” said Dr. Llewellyn, “Thank you.”
Morfydd quickly vanished down the hallway and to the floors below.
The doctor turned to Sarah.
“Now, Sarah, what is this all about?”
Sarah shifted around. She felt very uncomfortable. Maybe she should tell him.
“Vivien threatened me again. And she also threatened Hugh St. Owen.”
The doctor looked at his daughter with a cold stare.
“She also put Morfydd up to lying about the picture in the hallway,” Sarah continued.
Her father still stared at her with an expression of increasing incredulity and, could it be, fear? Why did his character undergo such a dramatic change when Vivien’s name was mentioned, Sarah wondered?
“And?” the doctor continued.
“And what?” Sarah replied.
“My dear girl, you have quite an imagination,” said the doctor, shaking his head.
Sarah watched her father. Somehow his actions did not seem genuine. They seemed forced, as if he were just going through the motions.
“And Vivien has an imagination too, from all accounts,” said Sarah.
The doctor took a step forward and wagged a finger at his daughter.
“Sarah, this cannot go on. You are due to start work for me on Monday. My temporary secretary is leaving me tomorrow. I am overwhelmed with work. She did not come in today. I expect a calm, dignified efficient person holding the fort for me. I cannot have some nervous neurotic dealing with my patients.”
“But father-” Sarah began.
“No, Sarah,” cut in doctor Llewellyn, “I cannot allow this. If you can’t get along with Vivien, maybe we should be making other arrangements for your future.”
Sarah stood there thinking. She looked at her father for a long moment. Very well, if this is what it had come to, she would leave. She could not compromise her happiness, her life and the life of another by pointlessly enduring any more threats under her father’s roof.
She took a few steps back.
“Maybe you’re right, father,” she said. “It hasn’t been a pleasant month for me here. I would dearly love to help you with your patients, but I cannot stand Vivien’s threats and taunts any more. I will go. Just give me time to pack.”
Did Sarah imagine it or did an expression of alarm and fear pass over her father’s face?
The doctor looked at Sarah and frowned.
“But where will you go?” he said.
“Why do you ask?” said Sarah. “You are quite content to kick your own daughter out of the house. I will find somewhere.”
The doctor hesitated.
“Well, Sarah, maybe I was a bit hasty. I need your help in the surgery. Besides, it wouldn’t look good if you left here suddenly.”
Before Sarah could reply he had brushed past her and walked into Sarah’s bedroom.
“Where is Vivien?” he called to Sarah from the inner room.
Sarah retraced her steps and walked back into the dimly lit bedroom. Her father was standing right by the bed. He seemed to be staring at her in a weird way.
“Come here child.” The doctor motioned to Sarah.
Sarah walked slowly towards her father and stopped by the bed.
The old man was staring hard at the bed.
“Strange things happened here,” he muttered almost to himself.
“What strange things, father?” said Sarah.
Without warning the old man wheeled around and grabbed Sarah with both hands.
“What were you doing with that young stud, my girl? Hoping to get bedded, eh?”
Sarah looked up at her father in disbelief.  He was glaring at her with the most hideously lascivious gaze. He looked like a man possessed.
Sarah started to struggle.
“Father, let go. You’re hurting me,” she yelled.
“Hurting you?” he replied. “When I’ve finished with you, girl, you’ll really know what hurting is.” Now he was acting like a man possessed.
With that statement the old man threw Sarah on top of the bed. The next moment the old man was climbing on top of her.
Sarah struggled. This couldn’t be happening to her. Her own father attempting to rape her? It couldn’t be happening, but it was!
Sarah continued to struggle.
“Let me go! Let me go!” Her cries grew louder and louder.
The old man wrestled with the young woman. He pressed his lips against hers. Sarah could smell the faint odor of camphor and spirits. The next moment Sarah heard a rip as her father tried to tear off the top of her bodice.
“I want you Sarah! I’ve always wanted you!” he panted, between heavy breaths.
“But you’re my father!” Sarah shrieked in desperation. Tears were falling from her beautiful eyes. Her red hair, wild and untamed was pinned down by the weight of her father’s bony body.
“How can you do this? Let go of me.” She continued to struggle mightily against the heavy weight of the old man.
The old man raised himself with considerable effort and looked down into Sarah’s horror stricken face.
“I’m not your real father,” he gasped, “You’re real father died long ago.”
Sarah’s eyes widened even more in horror and sheer disbelief.
With an almost superhuman effort Sarah pushed the old man off her writhing body and rolled off the bed onto the floor. She met the floor with a loud bang.
Then everything went black.
 
 
 

Were the words of Dr. Llewellyn true?  Why had he attempted to rape her and who was her real father? Where had Vivien disappeared to and what terrible secrets did Vivien’s room hold? How could she warn the sexy Hugh St. Owen of imminent danger? And how seriously was Sarah hurt in her desperate search for the truth? See the next exciting installment in 9 of Sarah Llewellyn and the Druid’s Curse!

Read Chapter 9: A LOVE LETTER FOR SARAH
Chapter Index
Back to the Magic of Laurice Daniels
Back to Romantics Network
 
 
 

     Background and Design by Romantics Network.No portion of this website may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, saving, or by any information storage, dissemination or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. Written permission from the writer must be obtained to reprint or cite the information contained within this site. The writer and Romantics Network assumes no liability arising from the material in this site or of actions of advertisers or viewers of this site. Excerpts, poems, design, and literary works are copyrighted and the property of their respective owners.