With Carys, he slept. Like he’d never slept before. She made him switch of his alarm clock, made love to him and made him breakfast - every morning and in that order. They took the dogs out together for wonderfully long walks around the estate although, admittedly, it was quite hard for Richard to switch off.
‘That gate needs fixing,’ he’d say or, ‘I must tell Mr Brodie to order some more fencing.’ And he’d get out the little notebook that was ever present on his person. But Carys had to admit that it was a big improvement on the Richard of a few weeks ago.
Carys was also enjoying a much easier relationship with her step-daughters. Cecily had definitely had a change of heart since Carys’s return, deciding that her step-mother wasn’t quite as bad as she’d first thought. Evie was as sweet as ever and they were both terribly excited about the news of Cary’s baby.
‘I hope it’s a girl!’ Cecily said.
‘I want a baby brother!’ Evie said. ‘Called Richard. After daddy.’
‘Carys gets to choose the name, silly!’
Carys smiled her way through these exchanges, teasing them that the new baby was going to have a truly outrageous name like Ignatius or Ebenezer. She even went as far as to consult the Bretton family tree. She’d always been fascinated by family trees: the shapes and patterns they made and the endless striving and thrusting down into the new generations - new branches, new beginnings - and to which she was to add another little branch.
It was funny how names were repeated too: some like William, Elizabeth, Anne and George never seeming to go out of fashion. Whilst other names stood out, declaring their uniqueness with a strange sort of pride. Conibear, for instance. Who had he been? Where had that name sprung from? What colour eyes had he had? Had he had the famous Cuthland dark eyes? Perhaps that was where they’d began - with Conibear Cuthland, the tenth duke.
Family trees were so very male, she thought, examining the Bretton’s in the front of the Amberley guidebook. But who were the women? Who was Diana Bellwood, the wife of the seventh duke? Who had her family been before she’d exchanged Bellwood for Bretton? Was she well-known in her own right or always referred to in terms of her husband? And Dorothy Hewson who’d given Amberley four boys and four girls? So many lives lived out under this one roof. So many stories to discover.
And then her eyes alighted on one she did know: Georgiana Lacey.
‘Georgiana.’ She said the name aloud. It would be a wonderful gesture to name her child - if she was a girl - after one of the first friends she’d made at Amberley. Carys sighed suddenly. She was worried; she hadn’t seen Georgiana since she’d left Amberley to stay with Francesca. She sincerely hoped that she hadn’t sent her away forever when she’d been so rude to her last time they’d met.
Carys closed the guidebook and walked to the Montella Room where she stood in front of Georgiana’s portrait.
‘Where are you?’ she whispered.
‘I’m right behind you!’ a voice said.
Carys turned and smiled at the happy face of her ghostly friend.
‘Georgiana!’ She walked forward and, before she realised what she was doing, embraced her friend. ’Oh, dear.’
‘It’s all right. Don’t worry. I’m only vapour, you see,’ Georgiana quickly explained.
‘How strange. I’m sorry,’ Carys said, feeling rather flustered at having tried to hug a spirit. ‘I was so excited at seeing you. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘And I have missed you too.’
‘I was so scared you wouldn’t come back.’
Georgiana looked surprised. ‘Why would I not come back?’
‘Because I was so horrible to you.’
‘Oh, please don’t worry about that. As long as everything is all right now?’
Carys nodded. ‘I think it is. I mean, I know it is. Jamie’s working for the estate now and that’s taken so much pressure off Richard.’
‘So you can spend more time together.’
‘Yes. It’s wonderful. Everything feels just right.’
‘And have you anything else to tell me?’ There was a naughty sparkle in Georgiana’s eyes and Carys instantly blushed.
‘We’re going to have a baby.’
Georgiana clapped her hands together and beamed. ‘That is wonderful!’
‘In April.’
‘A spring baby? So romantic.’
‘I’ve just been looking at the family tree for inspiration. I don’t know where to begin. What did you call your children, Georgiana?’
Georgiana smiled wistfully. ‘Well, my first precious daughter was Little Georgiana. Then there was Catherine and Mary and Alice.’
‘So many girls!’
‘And a very nervous time for me, I can assure you. I felt like Anne Boleyn - that my time to provide a male heir was rapidly running out.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I had William,’ Georgiana said softly, her eyes looking dreamy and lovelorn. ‘Dear, sweet William.’
Carys smiled. ‘He’s in some of the portraits, isn’t he?’
Georgiana nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said and she gave Carys a knowing look.
‘What?’ Carys asked.
‘He was special,’ Georgiana said.
‘Well, he was the long-awaited son, wasn’t he? After four daughters, I mean.’
‘No,’ Georgiana said, ‘it was more than that.’
Carys was puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
Georgiana didn’t answer for a moment. ‘I adore those portraits of me and William. Leo Montella has captured something very special, do you not think so?’
‘Oh, absolutely. They’re wonderful paintings.’
‘Leo Montella. Is it not a beautiful name?’
Carys nodded. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘And he was such a beautiful man. Have you ever noticed that some men are attractive whilst others are handsome? Well, Leo was beautiful - truly he was. He had eyelashes that were longer than any woman’s - and so dark.’
Carys smiled but there was a little part of her that couldn’t help wondering where this conversation was going.
‘You were musing on the dark eyes of the Bretton’s before, weren’t you?’ Georgiana said.
‘How did you know?’ Carys asked, suitably unnerved.
Georgiana waved a hand dismissively. ‘They didn’t begin with the tenth duke, you know. Nor the ninth nor the eighth. They didn’t begin with a duke at all.’
Carys’s own eyes narrowed. ‘What are you saying?’
Georgiana looked around the room but there was only her and Carys and the bright faces from the portraits present.
‘You must not tell a soul. Promise me you will not tell a single soul.’
‘I promise,’ Carys said and Georgiana beckoned her to come closer.
‘My sweet William was not my husband’s child,’ Georgiana said in an excited whisper.
‘What?’
Georgiana nodded. ‘He was Leo’s child.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Carys said, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘I am most certainly not kidding.’
‘You had an affair with the artist?’
‘Oh, Carys, don’t sound so outraged! Women did have affairs back in history. They aren’t the prerogative of the modern woman, you know. And you have been suspecting it for some time, haven’t you?’
‘But I - but - you were married.’
‘Yes.’
‘You were respectable.’
‘Most certainly.’
‘And you had an affair!’
Georgiana laughed at Carys’s shocked face and decided she’d better try and explain. ‘I loved my husband. I really did. We were best friends. But Leo was the love of my life. I cannot really explain it any other way.’
‘I can’t take this all in. Is this what you’ve been wanting to tell me? You said there was something, didn’t you? Or Lara Claridge did. I forget now, I’m so confused. Is this why you came back?’
‘I didn’t just come back. I have been here all the time. I have never truly left Amberley. It’s rather a hard place to leave, isn’t it? I think you recently discovered that.’
‘Is Leo here too?’ Carys asked, looking around as if she might spy the ghostly figure of the renowned artist in the room bearing his name.
‘No, no. He’s not here.’
‘But this is all so - so-’
‘Wonderful!’ Georgiana interrupted.
Carys laughed. ‘Unexpected!’ She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts.
‘And Charlotte too.’
‘What?’ Carys’s mouth dropped open.
‘My daughter, Charlotte. She was Leo’s too.’
‘Two children?’
Georgiana nodded, her eyes alight with joy. ‘Two.’
‘Did your husband know?’
‘Of course he didn’t. He would have been truly appalled. It would have broken his heart.’
‘He accepted them as his own?’
‘But of course.’
‘But-’Carys stopped, seeming to think of something for the first time. ‘They weren’t Brettons.’
‘No.’
‘William - he became the next duke, didn’t he?’
‘He did.’
‘But he wasn’t a Bretton.’
‘No,’ Georgiana confirmed again.
‘So all the dukes after him weren’t descended from Brettons either,’ Carys said, her face quite pale.
‘No,’ Georgiana said matter-of-factly. ‘They were descended from Montellas.’
‘Oh, my goodness. And nobody else knows this?’
‘Not a soul.’
A nervous little laugh escaped Carys. ‘But they’re so proud of their family history stretching right back to the first duke.’
‘I know,’ Georgiana said. ‘I’m afraid I rather corrupted their family tree, didn’t I?’
Carys shook her head. ‘So the dark hair, the dark eyes-’
‘Are Italian.’
‘Why hasn’t anyone noticed?’
Georgiana shrugged. ‘I am a firm believer that people only see what they want to see.’
‘Gosh! This is so huge.’
‘But not uncommon.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m quite sure I’m not the only lady who had a dalliance.’
‘You mean there are other men who’ve inherited titles which aren’t really theirs?’ Carys said aghast.
‘Well, I cannot prove anything but it’s not completely out of the question, is it?’
‘I’d never really thought about it. I just assumed-’
‘That’s it. Everybody assumes and the world continues happily enough.’
Carys laughed again. ‘What am I to do with such knowledge?’
Georgiana gave her a warning look. ‘Absolutely nothing.’
‘Can you imagine if people knew? Can you imagine what Natasha Bryant would make of it in the local paper? Imagine the faces of the tour groups if they were told. Amberley - passing to the child of a painter!’
Georgiana tutted. ‘You make him sound like a tradesman,’ she admonished. ‘He was an artist. And a very respected one at that.’
‘And your husband never knew?’
‘No, James, never knew. Leo did, of course. That’s why there are so many portraits. It was a legitimate way for him to spend time with his children and they’re such wonderful portraits, are they not?’
Carys had to agree. She’d never seen such lovely paintings. ‘But not to be a Bretton - a true Bretton.’
Georgiana sighed. ‘It isn’t the end of the world when you think about it. He was still my son and what was wrong with him inheriting the title? Why shouldn’t my family make a contribution to the Bretton family tree - a real contribution? You, I believe, have had such thoughts yourself.’
‘Well, I must admit to wondering about the role that women play.’
Georgiana nodded. ‘I didn’t plan any of it, Carys. It was all - well - wonderfully spontaneous and it was not my fault that Leo’s love gave me a son and heir whilst James’s did not.’
Carys and Georgiana looked at each other and then they both burst into sudden laughter, filling the Montella Room with merriment.
‘I’d never have guessed in a million years,’ Carys said at last.
‘Come on, now,’ Georgiana said. ‘I’ve seen you looking at the portraits. You cannot tell me you didn’t suspect something.’
Carys looked pensive. ‘I always thought there was rather special quality about the paintings, I must admit, and I can see that naughty sparkle in your eyes.’
Georgiana smiled prettily. ‘We had something rare and very beautiful and I so wanted to share it with you.’
Carys smiled back at her. ‘I’m so glad you did.’
A voice shouting suddenly broke into their secret conversation.
‘Come on, Carys! We’re leaving.’
‘Oh, my goodness. It’s Richard. I totally forgot.’
‘What is it?’
‘We’re leaving - for Scotland.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes. A sort of second honeymoon. I don’t know where the time’s gone.’ Carys suddenly looked panicky.
‘You had better hurry.’
For a moment, Carys was torn. As much as she longed to get away with Richard, she didn’t want to leave Georgiana but she didn’t suppose it would be fitting to take a ghost away on a second honeymoon.
‘Go on, then,’ Georgiana said, flapping her hands to hurry Carys along. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Carys sighed. ‘I guess I’ll see you later,’ she said with a tiny smile and she began to walk out of the room, stopping when she was at the door. ‘You will be here when I get back, won’t you?’
Georgiana looked anxious for a moment.
‘Georgiana?’
‘Actually, I was thinking of taking a little break too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I can’t stay here forever. I must leave you to make a home for yourself. I can see you’re beginning to settle. I knew that awful Amanda would never make a go of life at Amberley. That’s why I gave her a helping hand in leaving.’
Carys dared to grin. ‘Oh, Georgiana!’
‘But you - you appreciate a place like this. You belong.’
Carys bit her lip. ‘I suppose I do. But I want you here with me.’
Georgiana shook her head. ‘Ghosts who hang around to long tend too start meddling in the lives of the living and that can be a dangerous thing.’ She saw Carys’s sad expression and added, ‘But I’ll be around. I might just make my presence felt on the occasional ghost tour.’
Carys smiled and nodded and watched in awe as her friend slowly began to vanish in her blue cloud, leaving the faintest scent of roses hanging in the air, and then she walked through the house to where Richard was waiting for her.
‘I’ve packed all our stuff already. Where were you?’
‘Oh, just saying goodbye to the house.’
He ruffled her hair. ‘You are funny. I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.’
‘I can’t. But, now that we’re going, I’m beginning to realise how much I’ll miss it.’
He smiled and kissed her. ‘I feel just the same.’
They walked out of the house and there, standing on the driveway was a sight Carys thought she’d never see: a brand new silver Marlva Panache.
‘Who’s is that?’ she exclaimed.
‘Ours.’
‘Richard!’
He shrugged. ‘I traded in the old Marlva County and did a bit of a deal.’
‘But you need the Country for work.’
‘Not really. Jamie’s got his own and we can share that. And this is far more fun, isn’t it? It’ll get us up to Scotland in real style.’
Carys hugged him. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘I love it!’
Then, like a pair of excited children, they got into the car, started the
engine and drove away, glancing every now and then in the rear-view mirror at Amberley Court, content in the knowledge that they would be back home very soon.
###
Acknowledgements
Thank you to the following people who have helped during the writing of this book: Lady Montagu, The Honourable Rebecca Howard, Lady Victoria Leatham, and Elizabeth Howard.
Thanks also to Pia Tapper Fenton, Sue Haasler and Stephen Bowden.
And, as ever, a big thank you to my dear husband, Roy, a tireless chauffeur who hardly ever grumbles at taking me to yet another stately home!
I found the following helpful in the writing of this novel:
Deborah Devonshire, Counting My Chickens and Other Home Thoughts
Tiger Aspect’s Country House series
The Duke of Bedford’s How to Run a Stately Home
Marchioness of Tavistock and Angela Levin’s A Chance to Live
Woburn Abbey Guidebook
Castle Howard Guidebook
About the Author
Victoria Connelly was brought up in Norfolk and studied English literature at Worcester University before becoming a teacher in North Yorkshire. After getting married in a medieval castle in the Yorkshire Dales and living in London for eleven years, she moved to rural Suffolk where she lives with her artist husband and a mad Springer spaniel and ex-battery hens.
Her first novel, Flights of Angels, was published in Germany and made into a film. Victoria and her husband flew out to Berlin to see it being filmed and got to be extras in it.
Three of her novels have been Kindle bestsellers.
If you’d like to contact Victoria or sign up for her newsletter about future releases, email her at: [email protected] She loves hearing from her readers.
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