Lea Sinclair held herself stiffly and upright in the open sleigh, her shoulders taut beneath her white down coat with the furry hood. She'd made her request of him with a forced show of politeness, sounding so imperious with that hint of a French accent. But even in the gust of her icy demeanour, Jamie felt warm chills reach down his neck at the sound of her voice.
He smiled easily at her, though she kept her eyes focused straight ahead.
Jamie looked at the squirming Cyril Stockleton. Though the kid's red hair and freckles looked like they might very well have come from him, the decidedly annoying lad was not his. No, Cyril belonged to the haughty couple who had chosen to sit front-facing in the sleigh. The elite pair resolutely held themselves above noticing their rambunctious son or any bother he might provoke.
“He's not my child,” Jamie said, tugging the kid's wool cap over his reddening ears. “As you well know,” he added with a hint of a laugh.
Even as the child crawled around, he seemed to bounce off Lea's ramrod frame like a pinball. She shrugged one shoulder. “It's been a while since I've seen you.”
“Hardly long enough for me to have fallen in love, gotten married, and had a child who's surely old enough to be in school already. We saw each other not two years ago.”
“Hm.” She managed to voice this without moving her mouth.
Jamie would have noticed if she had. He dared look at her more fully now. That dark skin, that ebony hair curling out from beneath her soft hood. That icy look in her eyes. Lea Sinclair, through and through.
“'Hm,' what?” he asked, his laughter now reaching all the way into his eyes.
“It's amazing how you automatically connect a child with a committed relationship.”
“I do,” he affirmed, nodding. “No need to repeat history, I'd say. And no inclination, either.”
“Hm.”
And this time he saw her shiver.
“Not quite the weather you're accustomed to in Guadeloupe?”
“I've spent as much time in London or Paris as in Sainte-Rose.”
The kid jolted into her again as he gyrated around to see all he could of the passing landscape.
“You can get a much better view of all this country splendour from here, I should think,” Jamie said to Cyril Stockleton as he scooped up the kid from between them and moved him to his right side at the edge of the sleigh.
The parents said nothing as Jamie shifted their kid like a sack of turnips. They stoically regarded the passing scenery. And despite their complete lack of expression, they still seemed to judge the landscape and find it wanting.
Lea pulled herself up taller in the seat, if that were even possible, but she did it. She cleared her throat and tossed her head. “Perhaps Drakenfall is not the best place to conduct our business, after all.”
He leaned in and spoke more quietly to her. “He's not staying. His auntie is coming to sweep him away this afternoon, to spend the holidays with his cousins in Cambridge.”
She turned to him then. “So he is in your charge!”
“No. I just met him a quarter of an hour ago, like you. But I spoke to Mr. Fletcher while you were seeing to your suitcases with the young groom.”
“Mr. Fletcher?”
“Yes. The man driving this sleigh. And the young groom is Phineas.”
Lea turned to look at the backs of the men shepherding them to Drakenfall over hill and dale through the snow. “Mr. Fletcher knows all about the guests, does he?”
“I get the feeling that Mr. Fletcher knows everything about Drakenfall.”
“Hm.”
Jamie settled back as the horses pranced on through the snow, pulling them along. And except for the antsy kid at his hip, the arrogant couple in front of his face, and the biting wind pecking at his ears, he was thoroughly enjoying the ride. And he didn't even have to try hard to imagine it was just him and Lea.
As soon as the sleigh wound around the circular driveway and stopped at the front entrance to the great estate Drakenfall, the kid squeezed himself out. But Jamie saw right away that they were too high off the ground, so he caught Cyril by the hands and lowered him safely to the hard-packed snow. And the kid was off, charging into the front park, screaming the whole way until he collapsed into the snow in exhausted jubilation. Jamie sat back and waited while the first couple disembarked with much ceremony. A redoubtable valet from the house joined the younger groom Phineas, and together they collected the Stockleton's many bags.
“Kafi.” Mr. Fletcher nodded at the new arrival.
“Nice trip from town?”
“The best,” Fletcher assured him, standing back with a flourish to usher the haughty couple toward the door.
Just then, a young man and woman stepped out of the house.
“Welcome!” they hailed. Both wore jeans, and he wore a sky blue shirt with a black waistcoat, and she wore some thick, gaily coloured shawl thrown over a long-sleeved red tee shirt.
Lord and Lady Shiley. Jamie recognized them from their pictures on the Drakenfall website. And good lord, it hadn't been a trick of the camera or lighting or a good photographer. The pair absolutely glowed with a glee for life and with a warm sizzle for each other, so apparent whenever their eyes met or their hands brushed against one another.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stockleton,” Mark greeted. “We're Lord and Lady Shiley, but please, feel free to call us Mark and Maisy.”
“Let's get you out of this cold wind,” Maisy said, as both she and Mark turned to the house with the Stockletons leading the way.
Maisy took about two steps before stopping and turning back to Jamie and Lea, who were still sitting in the sleigh, taking in all the magnificence of Drakenfall. “Mr. Tovell and Ms. Sinclair. Welcome to Drakenfall! I hope you enjoyed the ride from the station?”
And Jamie could see Maisy peeking past the sleigh to where the Stockleton kid rolled around in the snow and threw snowballs with one maid and one valet who'd bundled up to come out to play. Maisy just laughed.
“It was a wonderful ride,” Lea answered.
And Jamie found himself just about in awe of Lady Shiley. With Maisy's good cheer blasting forth into even the sharpest wind, he could swear he felt Lea thawing beside him.
Phineas and Kafi reappeared for their luggage and Maisy ushered them all into the house.
As they entered the front hall, Jamie was relieved to see that the Stockletons were disappearing into the old-fashioned-looking lift.
Mark turned to Jamie and Lea. “Ah,” he greeted with a smile. “Mr. Tovell and Ms. Sinclair. The Honeysuckle Suite.”
They both got still. They both looked at Mark.
The smile dropped from Mark's face. He could tell straight away that something was amiss. “Tell me,” he said, arching his eyebrows in an eagerness to fix whatever it was. “What's wrong?”
Lea spoke up. “The Honeysuckle Suite? A suite? One?”
“A charming sitting room that leads into the bedroom, with the en-suite accessible through the sitting room or the bedroom.”
“I'm so sorry,” Jamie said. “I was to understand my father had two rooms. This was where he came to spend Christmas to conduct business with Mrs. Sinclair.”
Mark's brow furrowed and his hand moved to his heart. “My deepest condolences at your father's passing last spring,” he said softly. Then he turned to Lea. “And your mother in August. We were so sad to read the news.”
“Thank you,” they both murmured, but then looked away with such awkwardness that even Maisy's hounds, who'd been lying in the hall, got up and scampered through to the back passage.
“Your father,” Mark said, launching into an explanation. “He reserved the Honeysuckle Suite for the past three years, always paying for the next year before he checked out. He did business here at Drakenfall but seldom, if ever, with fellow guests. He used Drakenfall as his home base and colleagues would visit him here.” He turned to Lea. “Ms. Sinclair. Your mother actually stayed in the village and would come to Drakenfall by day t
o do business with Mr. Tovell.”
Jamie's face began to tinge with a hint of rosiness. He cleared his throat. “Neither of us, as I'm sure you can perceive,” he looked over to include Lea in his reference, “comes from the most communicative of families. After we each lost our parents this year, we became the sole heirs of Champlain. When I was going through his effects, I saw that my father had two rooms at Drakenfall over Christmas. I thought it would be the perfect setting to ease some business transactions, made difficult for several reasons.”
Lea stood rigid in her high heeled winter boots, looking decidedly less comfortable with such easy exchange of familial information. “I don't suppose you have another room?”
“We don't,” said Maisy. “But this is an easy fix. You thought you had two rooms? Well, yes, the suite is comprised of two rooms. We'll rearrange things—put a bed in the sitting room and dress it exquisitely as a second bedroom. It'll work because the bedroom and the sitting room each has its own door to the hall. You will have to share a bathroom, but if you can bear that, you'll have your two rooms.” And she finished with a smile properly deemed infectious.
Jamie seemed ready to accept the arrangement, but not so quick was the more discerning Lea. “Can we see the rooms?”
“I have a better idea,” suggested Mark, virtually bouncing with the excitement of the plan. “Relax in the parlour. We'll make sure you're comfortable with tea, scones, sandwiches, cakes. We'll fix up the rooms and then you can look. If you're not satisfied, you'll get a full and immediate refund and we'll help you scour the countryside looking for alternative accommodations.”
Just then, Lea's stomach growled. “That is a yes, then, I think.” She let herself smile. “Okay. We will relax and eat and then we will see.”
“Sounds like a jolly good plan,” Jamie agreed.
Mark and Maisy took their coats and Kafi and Kendrick whisked away their bags.
As Jamie and Lea stepped into the cozy parlour made warm and festive with holiday touches, Lea caught her breath. Christmas carols played softly, wafting on the cinnamon and pine scented air, lulling anyone into believing in Christmas magic. And Lea suddenly felt odd. Warm and out of place, but at the same time … welcomed and … relaxed.
She turned to Jamie. “Why did you bring me here?”
He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Rooms at Drakenfall at Christmas? Look around you. It was too incredible to pass up. And I didn't feel right keeping it all to myself.” He shrugged. “I thought you'd like a genuine English Christmas, with your French mum and all. You can see what mince pies and crackers have to offer.”
“My father was British.”
“But did he ever leave Guadalupe? I just thought a white christmas—”
Lea turned away quickly. “I don't much like the snow,” she said, but too loudly. She walked almost cautiously to a frosted window pane. When she spoke again her voice was softer. “But I don't mind looking at it from inside, where it's safe and warm.” And as the fire crackled in the grate behind her, Lea watched as a fresh snow started falling.
Chapter 4: Honeysuckle and Wisteria
Mark and Maisy charged down the back hall with feisty resolution, but when they stepped into the service lift and the doors closed, they fell against each other, laughing with fits of hysteria.
“Mark,” Maisy whisper screeched. “What the by-jingo are we going to do?”
Mark made an effort to stand up straight as he tried to get into troubleshoot mode. “I don't know! We haven't got any extra beds. Not with all the Christmas bookings.”
“Wait!” Maisy's eyes got huge. “Our old bed.”
“We can't give them our old bed! It's ancient. They'll sue us for life-long chiropractor bills!”
“No, we'll sleep in our old bed. And we'll give them our new bed. We've got plenty of extra bedding.”
“Brilliant!”
“Let's use the wisteria set,” Maisy decided. “Flowered, but lightly. And blue. So it works for either of them.”
“Good call.”
The lift doors slid open and Kendrick stood there. “Are you two having a picnic in here?” He loped on. “Mind if I actually push a button to go to an actual floor? I mean, other than this one?”
“Don't go far,” Mark warned. “We're going to need all hands on deck to transform the sitting room of The Honeysuckle Suite into a bedroom.”
He nodded. “When?”
“Now.”
“Crikey. Why?”
“Booking mix-up.”
“Oh. There aren't any extra beds.”
“We're going to put our new bed in the Honeysuckle's sitting room, and we're taking back the old one.”
“But that's just the mattress.”
“Maisy and I can do without a frame. We'll just sleep on the old mattress on the floor.”
But Kendrick was shaking his head. “Nah. No need for that. We've got that old four poster frame in the attic. A few rooms down from your flat. The bottom of the frame is cracked, but I'm betting Fletcher can fix that right up. You should see what he did with that fence in the east field after Liam Thompson's bull went through.”
Mark nodded. “Sounds like just the plan.”
“Okay,” Maisy said, reaching her hand out and putting it in front of the two men so they could all stack their hands on top of one another. “On three. Kendrick, you go get Fletcher on board and Mark and I will arrange the troops to redress the room. One, two, three. Go!”
Kendrick smiled all bright and goofy. “Right on for you to marry an American, Lord Shiley.”
And all three dashed off the lift.
Twenty minutes later, after his quick consultation with Kendrick, Mr. Shaun Fletcher made his way into the house. He headed through the kitchen, as before, but this time he'd stopped to wipe his boots dry on the mat in the mudroom. Perhaps if he hadn't, Glynis would not now have a bruise on her right cheekbone.
Understanding the situation and all its repercussions perfectly, Fletcher raced into the kitchen carrying a tool box and what looked like a fence rail. He moved quickly, dodging maids and Cook with precision and dexterity. Until he slammed right into Glynis as she was coming out of her office.
“Oh!”
“Ah!”
But no tools scattered about the tiles and no fence post impaled the house manager. As Mr. Fletcher's chin connected with Glynis's cheekbone just under the eye, he managed to hold firm to the box while pulling the post up out of harm's path.
Fletcher stepped back from the collision. “I'm so sorry, Ms. Ferry.”
But even as he spoke, Glynis could see his bottom lip start to swell. ”You need ice for that,” she said, briskly moving to the freezer.
“You need ice for your face,” he countered.
“Shhh,” Glynis said, rushing back from the freezer and holding an ice pack to his mouth.
Across the ice pack, he looked at her with those dark brown eyes. Slowly, he took the pack from her, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. “Sorry, Ms. Ferry. No time to stop.”
He placed the pack gently against her cheek. Glynis moved her hand to hold it in place. He smiled and then he was gone.
Feeling once again parched, her eyes drifted toward the refrigerator. It was then that Glynis noticed everyone in the kitchen had gotten quiet and had frozen into place like statues, including Cook.
Just then Pippa clamoured in from outside. “Oy! That Cyril is quite a—” She stopped, her hair blown out of its knot and her cheeks bright with the cold. “What's going on?” She spotted Glynis, holding an ice pack to her face. “Glynis? You okay?”
“Fine.” The house manager looked around the room. “I'm fine.”
And all at once, they seemed to shake themselves back into bustle like singing coal miners from a fairy tale.
Pippa was wondering what drama she'd missed when she got a text from Mark. She texted him back. On it.
Then she walked into the parlour in search of Mr. Tovell and Ms. Lea Sinclair. But as she got clos
e to the door, she heard voices talking softly but with a chord of friction. Pippa pulled back, waiting for an appropriate moment to announce herself.
“—what she did to your family.”
“Lea ...”
“I mean it. We'll be here two weeks and I don't want to spend the whole time just waiting for you to let me have it. So just say anything you have to say.”
“Okay ...”
And Pippa's heart raced. She should not be hearing any of this!
“I'm sorry you lost your mother,” he finally said.
“No! Jamie, that's not what I mean. She went after your father. She went after his money, his business. And she destroyed your family!”
Jamie sighed. “Lea, my mother left Simon because he was a selfish beast who slept with other women besides. But he wanted his family, too. Just to say he had us. Not because he loved us. We were better off when he left.”
“He took all his money with him! I know what her schemes reduced you and your mother to.”
“Do you? We got to move out of a big, cold, harsh house into a tiny flat filled with love and fun and laughter.”
Pippa could hear Lea get up from the couch and start pacing.
“And do you know the worst part?” she demanded. “She didn't even want Simon! That was how she operated. When she wanted a man's business, she'd seduce him, then threaten exposure if he didn't buckle to her demands.”
Pippa could hear that Jamie had gotten up, too. “Well, she met her match in Simon, who had no intention of buckling quietly.”
“Champlain,” Lea muttered. “The affair was over but Simon and my mother went into business together! And you were left behind.”
And Pippa could hear Lea throw herself back onto the cushions of the sofa.
“High-end sportswear,” she spat. “They made a killing, and you never saw a penny of it. Or your mother.”
Pippa heard Jamie join Lea on the couch. “Until now,” he said. “And see? The money's just causing trouble.”
“You said you didn't want any of it.”
“And I don't.” Suddenly, Jamie Tovell sounded more commanding. “But I want the building.”
A Drakenfall Christmas: A Novel Page 2