Christmas at Wynter House

by Emily Harvale

  Chapter Fifteen

  Neva needed something to do. The house was palatial and she would love to look around, but as ridiculous as it was, she didn't want to do that. Not yet anyway. She didn't want to see what she would be missing if they had to go home today. Her parents had no such qualms, and nor did Rowan and Nigel.

  Neither did Cecil and Ronnie, who seemed to have completely forgotten the fact that they were in Rafe Wynter's home, the man they had accused of killing his wife. They were plumping cushions on the sofas in the drawing room and even discussing rearranging the furniture. Neva didn't want to be involved in that. Rafe was obviously still cross with her even though he had said he wasn't. She didn't want to exacerbate the situation by suggesting his home interior style needed work.

  Sasha was busy trying to find the panel through which Rafe had appeared in the hall, and Neva had not seen Ethel and Queenie since breakfast.

  Adam and Rafe, and Wendy and Sean, dashed here, there and everywhere, but when Neva asked Judith if there was anything she could do to help, she was reassured there wasn't.

  She couldn't go for a walk outside; the rain was once again, torrential. Instead, she wandered into the library. And what a library it was. It was the size of the entire cottage they had rented, with floor to ceiling shelves crammed with leather-bound books.

  A fire crackled cheerfully in the large hearth with yet another impressively carved surround. This was obviously one of the rooms open to the public, and a mass of holly, ivy and mistletoe, interspersed with flickering faux candles, dressed the mantle. A tree, much smaller than the one in the hall but adorned with similarly beautiful decorations and candle-shaped fairy lights, stood majestically in one corner. But when she shook one of the presents piled beneath, it was obvious it was empty and merely for decorative purposes, which was somehow disappointing.

  She scanned the bookshelves and was surprised to see a copy of one of her favourite books, Mrs Gaskell's, Wives and Daughters. She was even more surprised to find it was a first edition and astonished to see what appeared to be the author's signature inside. Of course that could have been a forgery, but would Rafe Wynter condone such a thing? Unless he didn't know.

  She walked to the window seat and sat on the sumptuous cushion. The view from here was idyllic. It overlooked the drive to one side, still aglow with the fairy light-hung trees and the gardens to the other. Were the lights left on all day? And what about at night? Perhaps they were switched off once the paying visitors had gone. But there weren't any paying visitors at the moment. Ethel had told her that the house was closed from December the 20th until the second weekend of the New Year. Perhaps the lights had been left on to cheer everyone up after having to evacuate the village.

  There was a long length of immaculately mown lawn leading to a copse of trees. To the side of the lawn sat formal gardens; the ones open to the public, no doubt. Beyond those were rows of fruit trees and, as she peered around the window frame, she caught a glimpse of an ancient brick wall, probably part of the kitchen garden she had seen on the website.

  She removed her boots; although why she had put those on and not a pair of shoes, she had no idea. It wasn't as if she would be going out anywhere for a while. She twisted on the seat so that her feet were on the cushion and her back was against the wooden frame and gingerly turned the pages, breathing in the smell that only such an aged book has. For one moment she could imagine Molly Gibson, the novel's heroine, sitting opposite.

  She read for quite some time before her eyes felt tired and she laid the book to one side and closed them. Surely she would sleep tonight, no matter in which bed that might be. Her mind wandered. If only it could be in Adam Wynter's. But there was no chance of that. Especially as Rafe seemed so intent on her and her family going home.

  She opened her eyes, hugged her knees to her chest and leant her head on them as she watched rivulets of water cascade down the mullioned windows, running off the red stone sills like mini waterfalls. She shouldn't have, but she couldn't help it. She wished the rain would continue so that Rafe couldn't ask them to leave.

  A shadow caught her eye and as she turned her head, Rafe was standing in the doorway, and as usual, he didn't look pleased.

  'You look very comfortable.'

  She smiled at him. 'I am. I was watching the rain. And I was thinking how beautiful it is.'

  'Beautiful? People have had to leave their homes. They may lose much of their furniture and some of their possessions and you think this rain is beautiful?'

  'I wasn't talking about the rain. I was talking about your house and the view, so there's no need to get all high and mighty. But I do think the rain is beautiful, actually. Sometimes beautiful things can be destructive. That's just the way it is.'

  'That part, you're right about.'

  For some reason, she didn't think he was talking about the rain.

  'You're so lucky to live here. It must have been wonderful growing up in a place like this.'

  His snort of laughter was derisive. 'Wonderful? I certainly wouldn't call it that.'

  Neva met his eyes. 'You don't think it's wonderful to be rich? To have servants at your beck and call. To know you'll always have a roof over your head, no matter what. To own a magnificent stately home and to live a life of privilege.'

  She hadn't meant to say that and from the look on his face, she shouldn't have.

  'A life of privilege. Is that what you think I've had?'

  'Well, haven't you?'

  He let out an almost inaudible sigh. 'Yes, Neva. Very privileged. I spent my early years in the company of just my nanny. Not Olivia. A paid nanny, who frankly, didn't seem to like me very much.'

  'I wonder why.'

  Why couldn't she shut up?

  His eyes narrowed. 'She didn't like anyone. It wasn't just me. From the age of four, when Adam was born, I had a tutor, and when I was seven, I was shipped off to boarding school in Scotland. Which is where all the Wynter boys for generations have boarded. Adam joined me on his seventh birthday, but we were kept apart, as per Olivia and also our father's wishes. All Wynters must learn to stand on their own two feet. Mother ran off with a count when I was nine, and we haven't seen her since. Shortly after that, our father decided he'd had enough of life's 'privileges' as you call them, and by the time I was ten, he had drunk and drugged himself to death. Yes, Neva, I've had a very privileged life.'

  'I'm sorry. I didn't know.'

  'Why would you? But perhaps it's best not to assume.'

  'At least you inherited this place. And you have Olivia and Adam and a good friend in Sean. That's something, isn't it? Friends and family help get us through anything.'

  He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. 'I'm grateful every day for Sean, and Adam and Olivia too. But I inherited my father's mortgages, and his father's before that. I have to open our home to the public and charge them to look around. If my bank balance ever gets into the black, even by a pound, it'll be the first time the Wynters have had money in their account since before the second World War. Gavin, our estate manager has more disposable income than I do. This house may be beautiful but it's a money pit. Something always needs repairing, replacing or rebuilding. Every day, I worry that I may not be able to keep up with it all. So many other families like ours have had to sell. I can't even do that. Not that I would. But the house is tied up in a trust which can't be broken by us. The only way it can be sold is if the banks repossess it and sell it to some foreign investor who'll turn it into a luxury retreat, or worse still, a luxury hotel.' He shook his head and screwed up his eyes as if he had just realised what he'd said. 'Forgive me. I have no idea why I told you that. Self-pity is not a trait I admire. Excuse me. I have things to do.' He turned to walk away.

  'Rafe!'

  His entire back stiffened noticeably and he drew in a loud, deep breath.

  'Yes.'

  As he turned around, Neva saw the sadness in his eyes and her heart went out to him for a moment.

  'You're right. I
shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry. I can't imagine how awful that must've been, or how hard it must be to deal with all that now. But thank you for sharing it with me. This doesn't help you, but we all have our crosses to bear. Sometimes we need to get things off our chest. It's not self-pity to tell someone that you've been unhappy or that you have worries and fears. And despite everything, you're keeping this place going. You're renting out the cottages. You're opening your home and gardens. You're keeping the wolf from the door. You should be proud of that. I'm sure Adam and Olivia are proud of you.'

  He met her look and held it, and there was something in his eyes that sent a strange sensation coursing through her, but his voice was devoid of emotion.

  'Are they? That's good to know.'

  She had to say something to lighten the mood.

  'What you need is a wife. Someone to support you and-'

  'A wife is the last thing I need.' His face darkened and so did his tone. 'I had one once. Haven't you heard? I killed her.'

  'Did you? I mean I don't believe that for one minute. But ... are you saying it's true?'

  He gave another derisive snort. 'You don't believe it, but you're asking if it's true. Thank you for the vote of confidence.'

  'Oh, don't be so bloody melodramatic. Either you did or you didn't. If you did, there must've been a reason. You're grumpy and moody and rude, but you're not a maniac and you're definitely not a serial killer. If you didn't, then why on earth would you let people think you did? That's just stupid. And you're not a stupid man, Rafe Wynter. You're arrogant and stubborn and pig-headed but stupid you're definitely not. So get a grip and tell the truth. And no. I don't believe you did. Not even for her money.'

  He raised his brows and burst out laughing. 'Money? I wish. If Pippa had had money, I might have been tempted to kill her. But she didn't. She thought I had. That's why she married me. I was in love and I thought she loved me in return. That's why I married her. I was young. I was foolish. I was wrong. It's something I'm trying not to repeat.'

  'What happened to her? Is she really dead?'

  'She's dead to me. We got married when I was twenty and still at uni. She worked in a local bar. I'm not sure why I fell in love with her. I am sure that she never really loved me. It was a whirlwind romance. Something I'm also trying not to repeat. After uni, we moved back here. Three years later, she'd had an affair and we were discussing divorce. I have no idea where she is now, or if she's alive or not. Although I have no reason to believe she isn't.'

  'So ... you're still married?'

  Why did that matter? And yet it did.

  'No. She was definitely alive five years after she left. She sent me divorce papers which I was more than happy to sign, especially as she made no claims on my estate. Not that there is anything to claim. As I said, the house is tied up in a trust, and there wasn't any cash then either.'

  'So how can anyone possibly say you killed her?'

  'Because some people like to invent stories about others. Some say I pushed her over the Falls.'

  'The Falls? Wyntersleap Falls?'

  'Yes.'

  'But why would they say that?'

  He shrugged. 'Who knows. Perhaps I did. Perhaps everything I just told you is a lie. People do lie, Neva. Especially if there's something that they want.'

  'That's utter nonsense. Not the bit about people lying. I know they do. I've had one or two boyfriends who've been very good at that. But the bit about your wife. If I ever hear anyone say that from now on, I'll soon put them in their place. I can't believe you've let this continue.'

  'People will always find something to talk about if they've got nothing better to do. It doesn't bother me. As long as the people I care about don't believe it. That's all that matters to me.'

  'Well, I don't believe it. Not that I'm suggesting you care about me. I know you don't, of course.'

  'What makes you think I don't care about you, Neva?'

  There was a strange intonation in his voice and it sent a little quiver through her.

  'Yeah right. We both know there's no way you'd ever do that. And if you did, you wouldn't be in such a hurry to get rid of me. You'd want to keep me here for as long as you possibly could.'

  His brows knit together. 'Or perhaps I'd want you to leave as quickly as possible because I thought there was a very real danger that I could fall in love with you.'

  Had her heart just stopped? She definitely couldn't breathe. She stared at him and he stared right back.

  'Ah, there you are!' It was Ethel and Queenie. They tugged Rafe's sleeve, but it was several seconds before he dragged his gaze from Neva.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Neva had never been more disappointed, and yet at the same time, more relieved, to see anyone as she had been to see Ethel and Queenie at that moment. And as they dragged him off, and he took a final look at Neva, she wasn't sure if she should stay where she was in the hope he might return, or run away as fast as she could and avoid him at all costs.

  Had he really just said what she thought he had? That he could easily fall in love with her. But why was that a danger? Because of what happened with Pippa? Or because he didn't think she could feel the same way about him? Which of course, she couldn't.

  Could she?

  Or was it because he knew that she liked Adam? Ethel had said Neva's eyes were very expressive. Had he seen the way she looked at his younger brother?

  And what was she supposed to do now? Could they simply carry on as if he hadn't said that? Would he say anything else? Would he - God forbid - ask her on a date?

  He would hardly do that, would he? He'd just told her that his estate manager had more money than he did. If he asked her on a date, it would have to be to somewhere that was free.

  But why was she thinking about that? She wouldn't go on a date with him, even if he did pay. It was Adam she was interested in. Adam she wanted to kiss. Adam she rather hoped she might possibly get a chance to do even more than simply kiss. Especially now that they were under the same roof and she could easily go with him to his bedroom and jump into his bed.

  The thought of that sent waves of excitement over her. It had been a while since she'd been in anybody's bed other than her own. Alone. Or the bed in the cottage. Alone. Being in Adam's bed would be her Christmas wish come true.

  But not if Rafe had his way and sent her home.

  And then, before she knew it, she was thinking of Rafe, 'having his way', but it had nothing to do with sending her home. And strangely enough, the thought of being in Rafe's bed made her even more excited.

  She pulled out her phone and called Jo.

  'Perfecting timing,' Jo said. 'I hope your Christmas is going better than mine so far. I love Rob. You know I do. But I honestly don't think I can marry him unless we move at least ten thousand miles away from his mum. The damn woman won't give me a minute's peace. And you'll never believe this, Neva, in a million years. The bloody woman has knitted us matching jumpers with, 'I belong to Robert' on mine and 'I belong to Joanna' on his. Let's forget for one moment that no one, and I mean, no one, ever calls me Joanna, apart from my own mum, which is one of the reasons I hate Joanna. But also, I'm sorry to burst the bubble, but the only person I belong to, or ever will, is me!'

  Neva burst out laughing.

  'It's not funny, Neva. That woman needs help.'

  'I shouldn't laugh. I'm sorry. But perhaps it was just a joke. You know. One of those awful Christmas jokes that always falls flat or that makes people groan. Maybe she simply has a strange sense of humour. And perhaps Rob hasn't told her about your relationship with your mum. Or that you hate being called Joanna. Why don't you have a word with him and get him to put her straight?'

  'That's the other problem. I've been dating this guy for four years. Four years, Neva. And you'd think you'd know a person after spending four years with them, especially as we spend a lot of time together and almost every night. But since his parents have been here, the man has changed.'

  'In what way?'
/>
  'Well for a start, he's become bone idle. He sits on his arse and Charmaine rushes around after him like a bloody servant. He even asked me to go and get him a beer out of the fridge last night and when I told him, politely, to get up and get the bloody thing himself, he actually looked surprised. And surprise was definitely not the look Charmaine gave me. Then she got up and got it for him. And now his sister has arrived and it was as if she had a personality transformation, the minute she hugged her mum. I'm beginning to think this family is a little weird. I'm telling you now, if this goes on, this is going to be a very short engagement.'

  'Are you serious? Are you really saying you're thinking of breaking up with him?'

  'Oh, I don't know. It's really hard. On the one hand, I do love him, but on the other, there's my mum and dad. They were in love and look what happened. I'm terrified that'll happen to me. To us.'

  'But you're not like them, Jo. And neither is Rob. Although ...'

  'Although what?'

  'I wasn't going to say anything. And I may be completely wrong. I'm hardly that experienced when it comes to serious relationships. But. Well. He does seem a bit on the possessive side. Just a bit. I get the distinct impression that he's glad we're not living together anymore.'

  'It's funny you should say that. I got that impression too. He's even been saying that it's good we won't be seeing so much of one another from now on. I don't know where he got that idea from but it certainly wasn't me.'

  'He's right though. We won't. Especially now you're living in Upminster, and I may be living in Merriment Bay.'

  'I suppose so. But we'll chat every day, and text and stuff. And we'll see each other regularly. At least once or twice a week, won't we? Which reminds me. Here's me going on about my problems and I haven't asked about you. Have you seen the salon and the flat and are they fab? Are you having a wonderful time in Wyntersleap? Has Tempest caused more havoc? And more importantly, have you got Adam or the lovely Rafe into bed yet?'

  'You'll never believe what's been happening here. Since I spoke to you yesterday morning, I almost went on a sort of date with Adam but his brother got in the way. I've insulted Rafe several more times. Met some of the other villagers. Woken up to find the river was flooding the village and been involved in the evacuation.'