Hey, guys. This is my first story written in English, so I hope you don't be mad at me for making some mistakes (I corrected some after my posting). But I sware I'm trying to be the best I can. I hope for many reviews and new friends. Just a little note: if you prefer, I have other version of this story written in Portuguese. I have 3 chapters written there. Anyway, enjoy it
Note 2: This story is based in a book, which has the same name: Revengeful Heart. I liked the story, so I made a different version. I changed the name of some characters and others were add. It has romance, drama, comedy, thriller, etc.
Chapter 1 – Not such a good offer
Kisara Trafford raised her arms, spawled and opoened her eyes. Already awaked, she threw the blakets to one side, cross over the bedroom, walking heavily, and sat at the armchair, near the window. Her breath formed steam circles at the glass while she looked the lawn covered of snow.
The day was cold and sad, but Kisara thrilled, like everything about Lammerton Manor caused emotion to her. There had been the family's home during seven generations, until Sir John, Kisara's father, the last male descendant of this lineage. She wished she had born a boy to perpetrate the family's name, like it happened other times.
But now there was no purpose thinking like this. Walking into the bathroom, she let the water run, remembering of her childhood days, when the day was so cold that she could wash herself just superficially. How could she be so naive that she didn't note the poverty slowly envolving her family's life? She couldn't blame herself entirelly, because her parents did everything to keep her confined to their limited world. Even her decision to look for a job almost make them faint, horrified.
- Work?! – said Sir John with surprise. – My daughter doesn't work.
- But we need money, dad. And the few I get will be better than nothing.
- I don't want to hear you talking about it anymore – her father answered. – We will have to save money, but I will continue to conduct this family.
Anyway, the fact of economize didn't help and finally came the day he decided to sell the house.
- Fortunatelly, it isn't mortgaged – he mumbled, with a little sadness, avoiding his wife's desolated look – and once the house was sold we will have enough money to buy a little propriety somewhere near here.
- And if we sell some of my jewelry? – Lady Trafford suggested.
- The best ones already gone. No, I am resigned: we will need to sell the house. I am sure we will get a good price.
Despite of Kisara had particularlly had doubts about it, she didn't say to her parents, because she knew none of them imagined how far life in Lammerton Manor was from the needs imposed by modern life. Actually, with the possible exception of some government department, she couldn't imagine someone who wanted to bend the responsability of this white elephant. Nevertheless she took leave from her father, so encouragedelly as she could, when she saw him disappear at the train, wishing with all her heart he could prove her fears were baseless.
Sir John had a terrible morning with his procurator and, feeling the need of amusing, he went to have lunch at his club.
He sat down, in bad temper, drinking whisky with soda while he thought abou his troubles, when he noticed a man sat at the oposite side, looking in a fixed way at him.
- I'm sorry for the intromission – he said after sometime – but I heard the waiter call you Sir Trafford, and I would like to know if you are Sir John Trafford.
- Yes, I am. Why?
- Because I had a friend, in Hong Kong, whose name was Clive Trafford, who often talked about an uncle. I lost contact with him when he came back here and I have hope you can tell me where I can find him.
- It's too late. - Sir John said. – Clive died in a car accident last year.
The man looked at him haunted and introduced condolences.
- It must have been a big stroke to you. He was your inheritor, wasn't he? He told me a lot about Lammerton Manor.
- Yes, we loved him – Sir John said. – It was good he didn't know that Lammerton Manor wouldn't be mine for much time. I am selling it, because of all these damned taxes...
The man looked conveniently friendly.
- Isn't there another way out?
- Nothing I can see.
The man gave a quick look at his watch.
- I hope you don't mind about my boldness after a so short knowledge, but, if you are alone, I would like to make company. It will be better I introduce myself. My name is Winster, Conrad Winster.
Enchanted with the possibility of talking to a man who had known his nephew, Sir John accepted the envitation; they sat at the table next to the window, and then he could watch Conrad Winster in a discret way. He have the appearance of thirty years old, strong, athletic posture, the ruddy face of an active man, but lover of the good amusements.
During the lunch, Winster encouraged Sir John to talk about the past glories from the Traffords and, at the coffee's time, they agreeded they could have met each other before.
- It's a pity I'm not a man with family – sticked out Winster -, or Manor would be perfect for me.
Embarrased, Sir John nodded in a negative way.
- I'm not trying to sell anything, I hope you understand this.
- I understand perfectly. I was just thinking loud. It's a bad habit! The fact is I'm looking for a way to make you mantain your house.
- I haven't thought about anything else these last three years.
- I could help you. – Winster inclined in his direction. – I work at the Stock Exchange, and the president of a company, who is one of my clients renounced other day because of his health and I guess you could work at his place.
- My dear friend, I know nothing about this work!
- There is no need you know these operations. Everything we need is someone to represent the company, a man which name and character are above any suspect. You will inspire confidence in our shareholders, be sure of it.
- I can't do this – protested Sir John. – It wouldn't be correct. I guess the person needs to have the least notion about this kind of business.
- I can assure you it's absolutely unnecessary. Everything that this job demands is to sign routine documents and refuse or aprrove certain transations. You would receive an annual salary, this is evident...
The sum was so elevated that Sir John reddened, embarassed.
- I don't have even a tenth of this money. It's too much for me.
- On the contrary. Men like you are necessary at the city, nowadays. I hope you accept my suggestion and think about my offer.
Aware of the mount in cash, there was no need of Sir John think more about the offer and, when Winster and him take leave from each other, it was already decided that he would assume the company's presidency next week.
In less than a month, everthing changed in Manor. Sir John received documents which has a valuable appearance, and everytime Kisara walked into the library she saw her father in an adapt and pompous way, signing them. In spite of she has tried to find out what was the cause of all this change, her father just pointed the finger to her and said women shouldn't occupy their little heads with business. After sometime, Kisara concluded that her father really knew nothing about business.
The first opulence signals began to appear soon. A young woman of the neighborhood was hired as a maid and the siverware was all withdrawn from the packing-boxes, polished and put at the main rooms again; the old curtains and the consumed carpets weere recuperated; the rotten greenhouses were fixed and were full of flowers and fruits like at the glory times.
Manor looked unbelievable now in all its confort and, despite of Kisara wish to know how long all this would last, she prepared herself to live and enjoy each one of these days.
After a bath and ready for a breakfast, she went down the large stairs when she saw the village police officer still at the entrance hall.
Sir John was holding a briefcase full of documents; beside him, his wife.
- Good morning everyone – said Kisara uncertain. – Is there anything wrong?
Her mother rubbed her eyes, perplexed.
- I don't know, dear. Policeofficer Perkings wants your father to come along with him to the police delegacy to give a deposition.
- About what?
- About the company – said Sir John, before his wife could answer.
- Why can't you clear your doubts here? – Despite of Kisara had made the question to her father, she looked to Perkings, who changed his posiotion, angry.
- Not at the local delegacy, miss Trafford. The deposition will be taken by Interpol
- Interpol? – This time Kisara looked at her father.
- Why they want to see you?
- I don't know, dear – despite he was constrained, Sir John answered jovialy. – But whatever this is, there is no need to concern about it. Soon we will know what is the subject.
Her father left and, when she saw him leave at the police car, Kisara had the strange sensation of foresse a tragedy.