by Jagger, Kait
‘I remember the first time I saw you,’ she said softly, ‘on that playing field at St Catherine’s. Oh, I knew of you already, about your parents. But when I saw you, so small and so angry, it was like looking at a reflection of myself, distilled down to my bitterest dregs. I felt a connection to you. An affinity. Did you feel it too, I wonder?’
Luna met Augusta’s eyes and it was like looking into the sun; she had to look away.
‘I took an interest in you, after that,’ Augusta went on. ‘Used my influence where I could. Little things, like asking Elijah Noakes to help you with your ogre of a grandmother. Or persuading Isabelle to make an effort with you at school. For a while there, I actually hoped the two of you might become friends.’ She made a wry face and added, ‘Well, you can’t blame me for trying, my dear. How was I to know I’d invited a silent assassin into our midst? That day when you cut her dead in the gallery, it was something to behold. “But he still won’t love you, no matter what you do.”’
Luna lowered her head in mortification. ‘You must have thought I was a little monster.’
‘No,’ Augusta said firmly. ‘I thought you were in pain and you needed help. And I tried to help you.’
‘You did help me,’ Luna said, throat tightening. ‘I can never repay you for what you did.’
Augusta shook her head as if to say, nothing, it was nothing. ‘I kept tabs on you in the years that followed, kept track of your progress at university, and later as your career took wing. And then, when I was in the market for a PA, I thought of you.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I half-expected you wouldn’t be interested, that you’d have decided to forget this part of your life. But I reached out my hand to you all the same. And you came. And for a while there, we rubbed along rather nicely, didn’t we?’
Luna closed her eyes and nodded.
‘You were just… all about the work. My work,’ Augusta conceded. ‘Those two years with you, I felt I was finally coming into my own, really functioning to my full capacity. Really, I don’t know why it surprised me so when I discovered that Stefan had fallen in love with you. That he’d seen what I saw and wanted it for himself. We accomplished so much together, you and I. I had such plans for the future…’ Her voice deepened. ‘And the thought of Florian wresting all that from me, laying waste to the empire I’d built, it was insufferable.’
Curling her lip, she went on, ‘There had been rumours for years about him and his taste for vulnerable girls. And when I stumbled upon one of his victims last year, purely by chance, I saw my opportunity. I’d have blackmailed him one way or another, I freely admit that. But you must believe me when I say it was never my intention to involve you in this.’ She inclined her head, eyes searching Luna’s, seeking understanding. ‘I just… ran out of time. John became ill, I still didn’t have the ironclad proof I needed to bring Florian down, and I had to get it by any means necessary.
‘So I offered him the running of Arborage, told him I couldn’t manage it with John at death’s door. And in the bargain I offered him your services.’ Augusta looked down at her hands again, staring at the emerald on her ring finger. ‘I did this knowing full well that he’d fixed his sick mind on you, hoping that having you to torment would distract him. And it did. He was so busy indulging himself and grinding you under his heel, he never noticed me coming up behind him, ready to slip a knife into his back.
‘I thought—’ Augusta broke off, panting slightly, as if the headlong rush of her story had winded her. ‘I thought once I’d deposed him, I could explain myself to you and you would agree with me that the ends justified the means. But when you stood in my office that day staring at me with such horror and disgust—’ She stopped again, a strangled noise rising in her throat. ‘I knew I’d never be able to repair the damage I’d done.’
Silence. Save for the hiss of the sprinklers.
After a moment, Augusta raised the side of her finger to her eye, erasing the trace of moisture that had formed there. ‘I believe,’ she said, ‘that my leaving will take some of the sting out of Helen and Isabelle’s losses. Right now, they see themselves as victims. Your victims. It will be less painful for them if they see it more as a… changing of the guard here at Arborage. And Florian too – his desire for vengeance surely must lose its focus with me gone. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for abandoning you to him. I hope that someday you can forgive me.’
She turned toward Luna then, eyes shining.
‘So you see, my dear – my leaving, I’m not doing it for Stefan. But for you.’
Luna held herself together during the walk back to the house. She met a couple of tourists from South Africa who were lost and calmly gave them directions to the farm shop. She ran into Roland and Alex, heading from one meeting to another, and had a brief conversation with them, the entirety of which she would later find herself completely unable to recall. She walked down the hall to the Marchioness’s office as she had done hundreds of times before, her expression cool and serene and blank.
When she got to the office to find Stefan just finishing a meeting with David Martin, the estate’s most successful tenant farmer, she played the dutiful fiancée, graciously accepting his congratulations and asking after his wife and children and property in Norfolk, smiling and nodding when he kissed her cheek and said in parting, ‘I look forward to seeing a lot more of you soon.’
She stood in the middle of the Marchioness’s office, hands gripped tight together, as Stefan saw him out. Then, only then, when he returned and shut the door behind him, did her eyes well up.
He came and put his arms around her, and Luna wept into his chest.
*
‘I’ve known for some time that it would come to this,’ Stefan admitted later, as the two of them sat on the sofa in the office. ‘But I’m glad it was Augusta’s choice, in the end.’
Luna looked around the office, struggling to imagine it without Lady Wellstone to fill it. ‘I wish…’
‘You wish what?’ he prompted.
‘Nothing,’ Luna said. ‘I’ll miss her.’
The sound of chatter filtered up from the lawn outside as a tour group passed by, and it broke the mood. Stefan slapped his hands on his knees. ‘We never had a chance to talk about your interview this morning. Which one was it, the hotel group or the insurance company?’
‘The hotel group.’
‘And it went well?’
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘The chief exec took me on a tour, introduced me to some of his managers, and he seemed keen to know when I could start.’
‘You’re interested in this job?’
‘Well, maybe,’ she said speculatively. ‘The pay is good, and there’s a good benefits package.’
Stefan made a face and grunted, ‘Hunh. I can’t quite picture you in the hospitality industry.’
‘I’d get a fifty percent staff discount at any of their properties,’ she noted pertly.
Another face.
‘And,’ she floundered on, ‘it comes with private medical insurance.’ Clearly, that didn’t impress him either. Really, she was starting to feel a little stung by his dismissiveness.
‘Do you not think,’ he said, ‘after all your hard work in Shetland, that you’re ready for something a little more challenging?’
Luna frowned. ‘Like sheep farming?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘No, no. I mean, look at all the skills you put to use there. Negotiating skills, contracting skills, team building, PR…’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ she demurred.
‘Well, I would. And so would my father.’
At this, the girl who never blushed felt heat rising to her cheeks. ‘Well, Sören is—’
‘—very impressed with your work, Luna. Stop talking yourself down. It’s one of your few flaws and it’s extremely annoying,’ he said testily. Luna opened her mouth to defend herself, but he wasn’t finished. ‘And really, wouldn’t it be a waste not to apply everything you’ve learned here at Arborage? Staff who understand
the intricacies of running a historic estate are hard to come by, I know that first-hand.’
‘So,’ Luna said doubtfully, ‘you’re suggesting I apply for jobs with our competitors?’
‘I am not.’
She frowned again. ‘Well then, what?’ And stopped herself. Suddenly all was becoming clear. Placing her hand on his knee, she shook her head and said gently, ‘Stefan, I can’t be your PA.’ Only for him to look down at her hand on his knee, then up at her serious, sincere face. And roar with laughter.
‘I don’t need a personal assistant, Luna,’ he said eventually, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘And if I did I certainly wouldn’t pick you.’
‘Oh really,’ Luna replied archly, dialling the temperature down to Hallviken.
He quickly grabbed her hand and stood, pulling her to her feet. ‘Come look at something with me,’ he said, leading her to the small conference table. Rifling through a sheaf of papers, he extracted an organisational chart with the Lionsbridge coat of arms at the top, watermarked PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.
‘So,’ he explained, ‘I have been thinking. About how I divide my time between Arborage and my company, to make sure I don’t overstretch myself, but also to do what’s best for both businesses. For S L Associates, that means giving James greater authority, as well as creating a succession plan for my Stockholm office. For Arborage, it means putting in place the right management structure to allow me to delegate more. I asked David here today to offer him the role of Farms and Estate Director, South. And yesterday, I offered Gus the same role in the North.’
He paused, stroking his chin. ‘We are still discussing titles, but essentially, David will manage our tenant farms and the rest of our holdings south of Hadrian’s Wall. And Gus keeps his existing responsibilities in the North and also takes over our new Shetland holdings.’ At her questioning look he nodded and added drolly, ‘Yes, a little wedding present from your future father-in-law, who wishes me well in negotiating new tenancy agreements with the crofters up there.’
‘Gus and David have accepted your offer?’ Luna asked.
‘They have,’ he said, ‘which only leaves one vacancy at the top of my new structure.’ He pointed to a box on the chart that read Director, Arborage House & Gardens. And crossed his arms, glancing sideways at her.
Luna stared at him. ‘You can’t mean… I’m not qualified for that.’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘And, you giving the job to me, what would people say?’
‘I honestly don’t care,’ Stefan said disdainfully. ‘I am the Marquess and it is for me and me alone to decide who manages Arborage.’ He hesitated, as if replaying his last words in his head. ‘Did that come across a little “lord and master-y”?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘It did, really.’
‘Well, see, this is why I need you, to keep my feet on the ground.’
‘But, running Arborage,’ Luna protested. ‘I have absolutely no management qualifications.’
‘So we send you on a management course,’ he shrugged. ‘Find you a few mentors.’
‘No experience of administering a budget.’
‘Which is why we have an accountancy firm.’
‘And, I mean, look at me!’ She held out her hands. ‘Who’s going to take orders from someone like me?’
‘I am looking at you, Luna. And I think you underestimate yourself, and the esteem in which you are held by staff here.’ Seeing the scepticism in her eyes, he changed tack. ‘On Shetland, when you were telling me about your work, you said that in challenging situations you had to pretend to be other people. Nancy, or Kayla, or me. But, Luna, you do see, don’t you, that you can’t pretend to have skills that you lack. You accomplished the things you accomplished there because of your own abilities, no one else’s.
‘You also,’ he continued, ‘have the two qualities I need most right now from my top team. First, you are scrupulously loyal, and second, you’re a worrier.’
Luna’s brow knitted at this and he wagged his finger at her. ‘See, see? You are worrying right now, aren’t you? All the best managers I know are worriers.’ He held up a hand. ‘Not pointless worriers or doom mongers. No, the best managers see a problem and they worry away at it till they fix it. They anticipate roadblocks and they work hard to resolve them. They worry about members of their staff, the way you did about Caitlin and Emma during the funeral, and Ashley after.’
‘But,’ Luna said, ‘you’re not a worrier. You never seem to worry about work.’
‘That’s why I hire people like you and James,’ he responded blithely. ‘To do my worrying for me.’
She opened her mouth again and he cut her off. ‘It’s okay. I know I’ve sprung this on you very suddenly. Take some time to think about it. I feel certain that once you’ve put it through that logical mind of yours, you’ll see it makes sense.’
‘And the board?’ she asked incredulously. ‘You think they’ll approve of this? What does your father think?’
In response, Stefan placed a hand on her shoulder and said patiently, ‘He’s the one who suggested it, Luna.’
Luna could think of no more protestations to offer, and settled for staring at him in utter dumbfoundedness.
‘Of course,’ he sighed theatrically, ‘if you’re worried you won’t be able to separate your work and private life, that’s a different matter.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she replied tartly.
‘I’m a very attractive man, I understand that.’ He gestured from his face down to his torso. ‘I can see how it might be hard for you to keep your hands off me in a professional setting.’
‘Oh, I think I can manage.’
‘Speaking of which…’ He consulted his watch. ‘I believe business hours are over.’ And smiled his best, most saturnine smile.
*
‘Good morning, everyone,’ Luna said, standing in the exact same spot in the office two weeks later. Around her, Roland, Caitlin and the rest of Arborage’s seven department heads were sitting at the conference table or on the sofa.
‘Marta’s arranged a taster session for the new autumn menu in the restaurant, so we’ll be heading there in a few minutes,’ she said. ‘But I wanted to start the meeting here.’ She gestured toward the anteroom, currently full of builders. ‘As you can see, we’re doing a little home improvement. The outer office is being converted for use by the Marquess, and I’ve also made a special request of my own.’
She nodded toward the handyman currently unscrewing the hinges on the oak door to the office. ‘I’ve decided to institute an open door policy, literally. What this means for you is that you are welcome to come to me on an ad hoc basis when you have something you want to discuss, rather than wait for regular catch-ups. Which I propose scrapping.’ Luna paused, allowing this to sink in. She smoothed a hand down her new crimson shift dress, then went on, ‘I trust each and every one of you to manage your own priorities. The less time you spend in meetings with me, the more time you’ll have to focus on your jobs.’
A few nods around the room, plus a cheeky, surreptitious wink from Caitlin.
Luna added, ‘I’ll also be making a point of having lunch in the staff cafeteria or one of our restaurants at least twice a week, and my open door extends to that as well. I would ask that you communicate this to your teams, tell them they are always welcome to eat with me, particularly if they have ideas they want to share, or questions they want to ask.’
She watched as every single manager in the room scribbled this down in their notepads, an utterly surreal moment for the woman who this time last year was note-taker in chief. Gathering her thoughts briefly, she concluded, ‘On a personal note, I’m very excited about working with you all. We’re at the start of a period of real growth and change at Arborage, and each of you is a critical part of that.’
With that, she clapped her hands together. ‘Let’s get a move on,’ she declared, and walked out of the office, gesturing for them to follow her.
Chapte
r Twenty-Five
Before Stefan said it, Luna wouldn’t have characterised herself as a worrier. ‘Conscientious.’ That’s the word she’d have chosen. ‘Diligent.’ But first day bravado notwithstanding, the subsequent weeks stretching into late summer were suffused with near constant anxiety; that she was doing things wrong, not learning fast enough, not even beginning to fill the Marchioness’s enormous shoes.
She threw herself headlong into a ‘back to the floor’ exercise, spending a day filling vol-au-vents in the kitchen, a day weeding with Nigel and his gardening team, and a day cleaning toilets in the ten public restrooms across the property. She spoke on the phone with Gus and David at least once a day. She reached out to executives at some of Arborage’s contemporaries in the historic preservation world, and arranged trips to visit them. And finally, she attended a two-week management course in London, driving home each night to catch up on her paperwork and emails.
When, late one night after she’d crawled up to their bedroom and collapsed on the bed, Stefan had the temerity to grouse about how little he saw of her these days, she gave him a gimlet-eyed look and remarked, ‘What can I say, my boss is a slave driver…’
To her disappointment, her new duties and an outdoor festival at Arborage at the end of August meant she had to miss Stefan’s uncle’s annual Crayfish Party, and that their visit to see Sören and Christian in Stockholm had to be pushed back to September.
A flying visit, it turned out to be, with Luna and Stefan arriving late on a Friday night at his father’s house on Södermalm, an island to the south of the city centre, home to Stockholm’s arty intelligentsia. ‘Worried’ didn’t even begin to cover the intense nervousness she experienced as they walked into the bright, airy living room to find the two men out in their terraced garden, drinking beer.
Clutching a bouquet of Arborage roses and other flowers from the gardens, Luna approached Christian, an extremely fit forty-year-old with short-cut, curly grey hair and trendy black-framed glasses.
‘Tack så jättemycket för inbjudan,’ she enunciated carefully, presenting him with the bouquet. At this Christian exchanged a look of barely contained amusement with Sören, and Luna glanced anxiously at Stefan, wondering if she had inadvertently misspoken.