Pondering the connotations of Lucie mentioning her mum, Arthur showed her to a free chair next to his sister before taking his own place at the head of the table. It still felt a bit awkward to be sitting there, even though it had been almost six months since his father’s passing, but he was slowly coming to terms with it. Protocol worked because it made people comfortable, helped them to understand the rules. His own discomfort was secondary to ensuring those who lived and worked at the castle were happy and at ease.
With Mrs W’s help, he was breaking down a few of the most constraining barriers, though. Gone were the terrible, stuffy dinners they’d endured as small children when their grandfather had still been alive, and which their father had perpetuated, although with a more relaxed air. With the ready agreement of the rest of the family, they now sat at one end of the dining room table, and dinner had been reduced to one course plus a bit of cheese or some fruit for those that wanted anything else.
If Arthur could really choose, he’d be happy with a tray on his knee in the family room, but as Mrs W had pointed out, that would put the ladies who came up from the village to assist with service at breakfast and dinner out of a job. Which might have made sense given the economising they needed to do, but it was such a drop in the ocean he had sworn they would be facing the bailiffs before he would cut anyone’s hours or wages. It was like walking a tightrope sometimes. He thought once more about the hideous blackhole in the family finances and added juggling and breathing fire to his veritable circus act.
Maxwell appeared at his elbow. ‘Will you want wine with dinner, Sir Arthur?’
He was fine, but he raised a quick eyebrow at his aunt on his left and Tristan on his right. When both shook their heads, he said. ‘Not tonight, thank you. I think we’ll be fine with water.’
‘Very good, sir. Perhaps some elderflower cordial for you, Ms Ludworth?’ The butler asked Morgana. When she inclined her head with a smile, Maxwell gave her the slightest of bows and left the table to return moments later bearing two large jugs, one clear, the other cloudy which he placed on the table before Arthur. ‘Dinner will be served momentarily.’
They were soon all sat with bowls of steaming beef and barley stew and hunks of Betsy’s fresh baked bread in front of them. Arthur let the conversation flow around him, thoughts focused on the food before him and his plan for the coming day. With Maxwell’s help, he’d located the old archives, purchase ledgers and other records they thought might assist Lucie. For all his love of tradition, the butler had certainly moved with the times and had produced a memory stick containing the electronic database he used to keep track of the family collection of silver and other small valuables such as the vases, snuff boxes and other things accumulated over the years and displayed in various rooms around the castle. He’d told Arthur it made doing regular inventory checks much easier as he could print off a list for each room and do a quick inspection for damage or see if anything had been misplaced. Arthur wasn’t aware of any instances of theft happening within his lifetime, but things inevitably got moved around, knocked down the back of cupboards, or whatever.
Even with the documents they’d been able to pull together, it was still clear to Arthur there was a lot of missing information and Lucie would have her work cut out for her. Well, that was what he was paying her for after all. The stew started to churn uncomfortably in his gut. He really hoped he wasn’t throwing good money after bad, and that there would be something worth enough money to help them out of the hole. He’d better start working on a plan B, just in case. Maybe a plan C, D and E whilst he was at it.
Though he’d been hesitant about the prospect of opening the house to the public, it was starting to look like their most viable option. The bluebell display the woods put on each year was renowned in the local area—and beyond. Perhaps he could test the waters with some sort of event around Easter. He filed the idea away for later; there were still hosting duties to be discharged. Pushing away his plate, Arthur refused the offer of anything else as it was cleared away. He watched Lucie do the same then stifle a huge yawn. She looked up just at that moment and gave him an embarrassed smile. ‘I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.’
Arthur stood. ‘Not at all. Would you like to take a cup of tea or coffee up to your room?’ He gestured to the side table where Maxwell was just setting out a couple of large thermos jugs.
Lucie came to stand beside him. ‘You won’t think I’m rude if I do?’
‘Oh, absolutely, but I’ll get over it in a couple of days,’ Arthur deadpanned as he stared down at her.
Her eyes widened for a moment before she giggled. ‘I suppose it’s a bit late to worry about being rude after I yelled at you earlier and called your family lunatics.’ She ducked her head, making herself busy as she studied the selection of tea bags laid out in a china bowl. Aunt Morgana was the only tea drinker amongst them and she insisted on lapsang souchong loose tea made in a silver pot, so heaven knew where Maxwell had rustled up such a mixed selection. Knowing him, he had a box of every assortment stored in the pantry ‘just in case’.
Reaching for the thermos containing the hot water, Arthur poured it over the peppermint teabag Lucie had placed in her cup. ‘I probably should’ve warned you about the King Arthur stuff. I know it seems a bit weird, but the ninth baronet was convinced there was a connection. He dedicated more than half his life, and a great deal of his fortune pursuing it.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘That’s the first time the family nearly went bankrupt.’
‘Are things really that bad?’
‘I can cover what we’ve agreed to pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ There was an edge of hurt in the look she gave him, and Arthur could’ve kicked himself for being so clumsy. ‘That came out wrong.’ An awkward silence settled over them as he quickly fixed himself a black coffee in a travel mug. It had become a nightly ritual of his to take his last drink of the evening when he gave the dogs their walk.
Lucie tapped her spoon on the edge of her cup, breaking the silence. ‘We’ve been doing a lot of that today—saying the wrong thing and jumping to conclusions. Perhaps we should have a fresh start tomorrow?’
Relieved he hadn’t offended her too badly, Arthur relaxed. ‘That sounds like a great idea.’ She finished making her tea and reached for the cup. ‘Well, good night, then.’
‘Good night. Breakfast will be in here tomorrow morning whenever you’re ready, and then I thought we could meet in the library and we can through the documents I’ve managed to put together so far.’
‘Sounds good. Mrs W’s offered to give me a bit of tour as well, to help me find my feet.’ She picked up her mug. ‘Good night.’
‘I’ll see you back to the great hall, I need to let the dogs out for a bit anyway.’ With a brief exchange of farewells to the rest of the family, they left the dining room.
Their arrival back in the hall was greeted by the dogs as though they’d been gone for weeks rather than just over an hour. Arthur stood in front of Lucie to block the worst of the wagging tails and enthusiastic tongues. ‘Yes, yes, we’re going out in a minute,’ he assured them and pointed towards the door. Recognising the signal, all bar one surged towards the entrance before turning to stare expectantly at him. Only delicate Bella remained, nuzzling at Lucie’s hand for a stroke. ‘You’ve definitely made a friend,’ he said as she petted the greyhound. ‘If you let her, she’ll follow you upstairs.’
‘Oh, are they allowed upstairs?’ Lucie raised her eyes to meet his, surprise arching her brows.
‘It’s their home too, so they can go where they like, though they choose to stay down here for the most part. And no one, not even the dogs, enters the yellow drawing room without strict invitation from Morgana.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Lucie bit her lip as though trying to hide a smile against the dire warning he’d put into the words.
‘No doubt you’ll be summoned for afternoon tea, and a full inspection.’ He wasn’t quite joking. Having been under M
organa’s stern eye more times than he cared to remember, he knew what an intimidating experience it could be—even at his age.
‘Should I be worried?’ There was no sign of that smile now.
‘No, not really. She has a heart of gold, but she’ll steamroller you given half a chance, so stand your ground.’
‘That sounds faintly terrifying.’
Arthur shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine, and if you can get her talking, she knows a great deal about the history of this place.’
Lucie perked up at that idea and there was a real sense of keenness when she spoke next. ‘Has she lived here all her life?’
‘Yes. She never married—I think there’s a story there, but Iggy knows more about it than I do. Added to that, she ended up taking care of one member of the family or the other—first her father, then my grandmother suffered what today would be called post-natal depression, so Morgana had a big hand in raising my father and my uncle. Finally, she took on the three of us.’ It was funny how history had repeated itself. One of the unspoken truths of the family was that Ludworth brides never seemed to stick around for long, whether through tragedy, illness or other more selfish reasons.
Not funny, awful. To the point some idiots in the village, who had nothing better to do than gossip, whispered about a curse on the family.
Not wanting to let his thoughts dwell on such dark things, Arthur shifted the conversation back to their previous topic. ‘As for the dogs, well, Pippin shadows Tristan everywhere and Bella and Nimrod have a blanket in my room where they sleep more often than not. If you keep your door shut, they won’t bother you.’ They’d found their way into his bedroom not long after the family had taken them in and he’d discovered the pair curled up on a tweed blanket they’d stolen from the end of his bed. Once claimed, it had never been returned to his possession, although he did rescue it for a run through the washing machine now and then. From the way Bella was glued to Lucie’s side, it looked like Arthur wasn’t the only one who’d be sleeping alone that night.
He regretted the thought the moment it entered his head as it was followed immediately by visions of russet hair spilling over the pale-grey cotton of his sheets. No! Arthur wrenched his thoughts back under control before his mental vision could dip lower to the more interesting things the rest of his bedding would cover.
Sleeping on his own wasn’t a bad thing, it was a good thing. More space to stretch out and sprawl his long limbs without encountering a feminine ankle that didn’t appreciate being kicked as had accidentally happened with one girlfriend. No snoring, other than his own, to disturb him. No scattering of make-up and underwear in his neat, tidy en-suite bathroom. No stealing of his shirts and jumpers, no random knick-knacks that seemed to breed in any private space a woman occupied. There was a lot to be said for protecting one’s personal space.
Not that Lucie looked in any danger of laying siege at his bedroom door. Her attention was all fixed on Bella. Lucky dog.
A sharp bark of demand from by the door snapped him back to attention. ‘Better get this lot out, or there’ll be mayhem,’ he said. ‘Bella, are you coming out, sweetheart?’ He offered a coaxing hand to the greyhound who responded by huddling closer to Lucie’s side. ‘Rejected!’ Arthur clutched at his chest as though suffering a mortal blow and staggered back a few paces. ‘Looks like it’s just us boys,’ he said to the waiting furry melee as he waded through them to retrieve his waxed jacket from one of the hooks hanging in the arched alcove of the doorway.
Having shrugged it on and turned the collar up against the impending cold outside, he glanced back to see Lucie was more than halfway up the stairs, Bella at her heels. When she reached the landing, she paused to give him a little wave, which he returned in kind. Still not quite sure what to make of their new arrival, he ushered the dogs out into the chilly evening air his footsteps and his mind already turning towards the woods and the forthcoming bluebell display. There was a hell of a lot to do before they’d be ready to let members of the public start wandering around the estate.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucie woke to the sound of rain rattling against the thick glass of the leaded window set deep into the stone wall of her bedroom. As she surfaced to full consciousness, she became aware of a jabbing pain in her neck, caused no doubt by the unfamiliar pillows. Moving with care, she eased herself up on her elbows until she had room to rotate her head. With a crack like a twig snapping, the stiffness in her neck released and the wash of sweet relief as the pain vanished made her sag back down onto the bed with a sigh. In the dim light peeping through a gap in the curtains, she noticed the fleur-de-lis pattern embroidered into the canopy overhead, a detail she’d missed when lying down the night before. That little sumptuous detail was enough to bring the reality of her circumstances crashing back. She’d really spent the night in a castle!
Eager to explore, Lucie tossed back the sheets, blanket and thick eiderdown enveloping her bed in strange layers so unlike the modern hollow-fibre duvet she was used to. It had taken a bit of adjustment to get them tucked around herself, but their added weight had sent her off to sleep well enough. So well, in fact, she realised as an urgent need overtook her, that she hadn’t got up once in the night, which was very unlike her. Scrambling down from the high bed, she almost tripped over Bella, who’d sprawled herself out on the rug beside the bed. With a quick pat of apology, Lucie skipped past the dog and into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she was showered, had secured her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head and dressed in a pair of her most comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved navy-blue T-shirt beneath a three-quarter sleeved cream knitted jumper with a big, slouchy polo-neck over the top. Given the amount of walking she’d likely be doing, she slipped her feet into a pair of lightweight trainers. She’d noted the mix of smart and casual wear the family had worn to dinner and had abandoned her original idea of wearing one of her skirt suits. It just didn’t make sense to truss herself up in her usual work outfits if she was going to be traipsing around a building the size of the castle.
By the time she was ready, Bella had taken up position by the closed bedroom door. Hurrying over, Lucie let her out and followed the greyhound as she trotted along the corridors and down the stairs into the hall. A few lazy woofs greeted them from the furry pile before the fireplace, but none of the other dogs did more than raise a head to watch their descent. Bella made a beeline for the enormous front doors, clearly needing to go out. The ease with which she was able to open one of them surprised Lucie the same as it had on her arrival.
She’d barely made a gap before Bella was wriggling through and shooting down the steps and across the driveway in a scattering of wet gravel. The brindle dog was soon a dark smudge in the distance, sending Lucie into a bit of a panic. Should she have just let her out like that? What if she didn’t come back? Worried, she glanced around the deep alcove, but there was no sign of any dog leads in amongst the jumble of coats, wellington boots, hats and walking sticks. Recalling that Arthur had taken the other dogs out the previous evening without using a lead on any of them, she crossed her fingers that Bella would find her way back.
A little anxious when there was no sign of the greyhound a few minutes later, Lucie hugged her arms around herself and stepped outside. The alcove of the door stretched as far on the outside as it did on the inside, so she was able to take a couple of paces and still remain under cover. What she saw, even in the gloomy overcast morning light stole her breath.
Low lines of box and yew hedges marched out before her in the geometrical shapes and rows of a formal garden set in the middle of a wide green lawn. Away to the left stood a wild expanse of trees, making it seem like the garden had been reclaimed from the forest and at any moment the woodland might swoop in and take it back. Beneath the lowering clouds, she could just make out the dark grey and brown escarpment of the Derbyshire dales.
Even in these earliest days of spring everything was so lush and green, a million miles
away from the car-packed streets she was familiar with. Her father’s delusions of grandeur seemed very small in comparison to the generations of power and privilege it took to command a private view such as this, and she wondered once again why he’d bothered. It was one of many questions that would ever go unanswered, though it haunted her still. What had he been hoping to achieve? What deficit had he grown up with that was so great it could have driven him to steal from others to give her and her mother a lifestyle they’d never needed nor desired? A shiver ran through her, though the jumper she’d put on was thick and cosy. She couldn’t let him intrude today, not when she needed to make the very best impression with her new employer.
Drawing in deep calming breaths, she let her avid gaze roam free over the landscape. The gate through which she’d entered the previous evening was the only point of entry she could see in the towering curtain wall she recognised from the pictures she’d seen online. The pale grey stone stretched as far as her eyes could see and she wondered if it reached as far as the natural stone hills in the distance. She could find out for herself, but on another day, when the elements were more conducive to exploring. And, she reminded herself, sternly, when she didn’t have so much work waiting for her. After yesterday’s debacle, it really wouldn’t do to turn up late for her meeting with Arthur.
Lucie checked her watch. It was still only 8.15 a.m., so there was no immediate cause for panic. Never one for a big breakfast, she could grab some toast and a cup of tea and still be ready for the half-eight start time she’d set for herself. As long as Bella showed up soon. Straining her eyes, Lucie peered through the rain at a dark shape. Was it moving, or was that just an optical illusion caused by the bad weather? The indistinct blob soon resolved itself into the sleek graceful outlines of a greyhound in full flight.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Lucie stepped back inside, grateful to be out of the morning chill. Moments later, Bella barrelled through the big oak door, almost losing her back legs from under her as she screeched to a stop at Lucie’s feet. Tongue lolling, she raised two muddy paws ready to place them on the front of Lucie’s clean jeans. Stepping back, Lucie grabbed an old towel she’d noticed earlier in the muddle of items in the alcove and managed to wrap Bella’s paws in it before she could do any damage to her clothes.
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 9