‘Not at all.’ He glanced down at her feet. ‘Are you sure about those? It might be a bit boggy in places.’ Under the shade of the trees, the ground in the woods often took longer to dry out.
Lucie lifted a trainer-clad foot and regarded it with a shrug. ‘It’s these or some slouchy boots, which I know from experience will absorb every drop of water in a five-mile radius. These, at least, are machine washable.’
‘You can grab a pair of wellies from the boot room if you want. There’s a range of sizes and are intended for anyone who needs them. You’ll find some thick socks on one of the shelves, too.’
As he waited for her to return, Arthur raised his head to survey the sky. Other than a few cotton wool clouds, it was blue for as far as the eye could see. Carting his coat around would get tedious. If the wind got up, the trees would provide enough shelter and though thin, his sweater was made of that polar fleece stuff, so he was unlikely to get cold. Returning to the entrance hall, he’d just slung it back onto its usual hook and was fishing a couple of tennis balls from one of the pockets when Lucie emerged from the boot room stamping her feet to ensure they were well secured in the black wellingtons she’d selected. ‘All right?’
‘I think so. They’re a touch big, but the other ones I tried were too tight across the toes. The socks are helping.’
‘Let’s get going, then.’ He tossed her one of the balls. ‘You’ll need this.’
Raising an eyebrow, she studied the slightly grubby object. ‘Thanks, I think.’
He grinned at her lack of conviction. ‘Trust me.’
The moment they emerged back out onto the gravel, the dogs swarmed towards them. Without hesitation, Arthur swung his arm back and tossed his tennis ball as far as he could. In a formation on par with a murmuration of starlings soaring across the evening sky, they turned as one and pelted after the ball. ‘Now I get it,’ Lucie said.
Heading off at right angles to the dogs, Arthur strolled to the edge of the driveway and down the gentle grassy slope which led towards the woods. In a flurry of barking, the dogs returned, a triumphant Nimrod heading the pack with the ball clamped in his jaws. They were a few feet away when Lucie launched her ball into the air, and off the dogs charged again, Nimrod at the back this time as he’d paused to drop his prize at Arthur’s feet.
And so they continued, taking it in turns to throw their balls until they entered the bracken and thicker, longer grass that edged the woods. Distracted by myriad scents, the dogs abandoned their game and disappeared off into the undergrowth, noses glued to the ground. Taking the sticky tennis ball from Lucie’s hand, Arthur dropped them both on the grass ready to retrieve on their return journey. Grimacing at the blob of drool left behind on his hand, Arthur scrubbed it on the back of his jeans before reaching out to lift a drooping branch obstructing the well-worn path. Lucie ducked under it with a murmur of thanks then turned to wait for him.
A short way ahead, the path split in opposite directions. As he took the left-hand path, Arthur pointed to the right and said, ‘That way eventually takes you down towards the lake. It’s a nice walk, and you can come back via the ornamental gardens—well, what’s left of them. Iggy’s doing her best to bring some order back, but they’d been left to grow wild during my grandfather’s time and some of the patterns are lost for good, I fear.’
‘Such a shame. When I get a chance, I’ll have a root through the plans and drawings I’ve come across in the library. With any luck there might be something there which will help,’ Lucie suggested.
‘Good idea. Unfortunately, a lot of the old knowledge that was passed down was lost when my great-grandfather laid off most of the staff.’ Arthur pursed his lips. ‘His own father nearly bankrupted the estate when investments he’d made were declared worthless in a huge UK stock market scandal which helped to trigger the Wall Street crash.’ Frustration at his ancestor filled him, even though it was the better part of a century ago. Bending he picked up a fallen stick and began to swipe through the long grass edging the path as he walked. ‘I think the estate would’ve gone under if it wasn’t for a couple of foundries we owned which were converted into munitions factories during the Second World War. Profits boomed and my great-grandfather was able to clear the mortgages his father had taken out to try and cover his losses.’
Old guilt tugged at him, knowing their family fortunes had turned for the better on the back of the deaths of thousands. They’d paid for it in blood, though. ‘My great-grandfather was one of four. He was excused from the fighting because he was needed to manage the munitions business, but his twin brothers both signed up. They died during the Normandy landings a few weeks shy of their twenty-fifth birthday.’
‘Oh, Arthur, that’s awful.’
He swished the stick one last time before hurling it far into the trees. ‘It’s said their father dropped dead in the great hall, still clutching the telegram which delivered the news. My great-grandfather never recovered from the double-blow of losing all three and went into a decline. That’s what my grandfather called it, anyway. It was probably a form of PTSD, but they didn’t really go in for stuff like that back in those days. It was all stiff-upper-lip and brush it under the carpet. He sold off the foundries, and lost interest in the estate but wouldn’t admit to anyone there was a problem. By the time my grandfather inherited in the mid-Seventies things around here had gone to pot and he was too focused on keeping the castle and the farms running to bother trying to restore anything he deemed non-essential.’
‘So the gardens were left to go to seed,’ Lucie said.
‘Exactly.’ They wandered along in silence for a few moments as Arthur tried to work out how he’d managed to get onto the subject of his ancestors many failings. ‘I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this,’ he admitted.
‘Perhaps you needed to talk about it. I can’t imagine how much pressure you must be under, and it’s only natural for stuff like this to play on your mind when you’re facing your own crisis.’
Which made perfect sense. ‘I still shouldn’t be burdening you with it.’
Lucie turned to face him. ‘I disagree. I’m going to be digging around in your family’s past, and I’m removed enough from the situation that you don’t have to worry about upsetting me.’ She wrinkled her nose at what she’d just said. ‘That didn’t come out right.’
Her disgusted expression made him smile, no matter how heavy his heart was right then. ‘I know what you mean, thank you. And it is hard to talk about with Iggy or Tristan because in order to finish the story, I have to talk about Dad.’ A sudden lump filled his throat forcing him to turn his back until he could get himself under control. Crying over it wouldn’t change anything.
‘It’s still early days, Arthur.’ Lucie’s soft words were followed by a fleeting touch to the small of his back. ‘Give yourself a break.’
‘I’m so fucking angry with him.’ Covering his face with his hands, he pressed his palms against the burning in his eyes until it subsided. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ There was a rustle in the grass around him and he suddenly found himself surrounded by the dogs, as though they’d sensed his distress and come to offer comfort. Crouching down, he petted first Nimrod and then Bella, before giving in and sitting on the damp ground to let them all huddle around him. It was hard to stay sad for long in the face of their loyalty and affection and he stroked their fur, letting the familiar rhythm settle him down.
Heedless of the dirt, Lucie knelt on the other side of the wriggling pack and began to tease Bella’s ears in the way the greyhound loved. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’
It was easier to keep his eyes on Murphy, the little Jack Russell who’d clambered onto his lap, so he kept his head down as he spoke. ‘I think he got tired of watching his father struggle and he didn’t want us to have to do the same. I can’t see any other reason for his actions. He was never a gambler. A flutter on the Grand National, maybe, and the odd trip with Lancelot to the races, but I’d never have thought of him as being a risk
-taker.’ Bending forward he pressed a kiss to Murphy’s head before lifting the dog off his lap and straightening up. ‘I suppose the problem was that he didn’t think he was taking a risk. You must’ve read the stories in the papers last year about the Masterson scam?’
The way Lucie paled told him she had. ‘Your father was one of his investors?’
‘Along with lots of other fools, yeah.’ Arthur scrubbed at his hair. ‘That’s not really fair. The policeman who led the enquiry told me it was one of the most sophisticated scams he’d come across in a long time.’
‘Cold comfort.’ When he looked up at her accurate observation it was to see she had her face buried in Bella’s neck. There was something so forlorn about the set of her body that it tugged him out of his own despondency.
‘Enough wallowing.’ Arthur forced a cheery note into his voice as he pushed to his feet. Lucie nodded, but didn’t raise her head. Her shoulders shuddered, and he wondered if she was crying. Crying for him, and the sorry tale of his ancestors’ dreadful luck? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her not to waste her tears, when she gave an audible sniff. Opting for discretion, he decided to give her a little bit of privacy. ‘Come on then, boys.’ He clapped his hands to draw the dogs with him as he started back down the path.
He walked slowly, so it would be easy enough for Lucy to catch up when she was ready. Finding another stick on the path, he sent it skittering for the dogs to chase, their happy whines and barks filling the air. By the time he’d thrown it twice more it was little more than a stump thanks to some over-enthusiastic chewing, and Lucie had caught back up to him. Other than a little redness around her eyes and a dark streak on one cheek, she looked calm. When she risked a quick glance towards him, he raised his brows in enquiry, but she fixed her eyes hurriedly on the path ahead. ‘How much further to the circle?’
Okay. They were not going to talk about whatever had triggered her tears, that much was clear. ‘Another ten minutes and we should be there.’
Lucie drew in a deep breath and seemed to shake off whatever lingering melancholy remained as she met his gaze once more and gave him a smile. ‘I can’t wait to see it in the flesh. Or the stone, would be more appropriate, I guess.’
It was a weak joke, but enough to lift the mood. A companionable silence settled over them as they continued to walk—well, as much silence as was possible with the motley crew bounding back and forth as they tried to draw his or Lucie’s attention to whatever latest amazing smell they’d come across. As they neared their destination, Arthur dropped back a couple of paces, and clicked his fingers to draw the dogs to his side. He wanted Lucie to enjoy her first sighting of the circle without any distractions. ‘It’s just around the next corner.’
Arthur caught Bella’s collar to hold her still when she would’ve padded after her. Hunkering down when Bella whined in protested, he tickled her ears and whispered, ‘Shh, pretty, give her a minute.’ The dog nuzzled him, settling her slender weight against his hip.
A slow count to one hundred later and he judged it enough time to follow. Turning the corner, he strode through the trees until they vanished at a boundary too neat to be anything other than manmade. Lucie stood a few feet from the nearest stone, hands raised to her mouth. The look in her eyes when she glanced over her shoulder at him was something he’d have paid a small fortune for—if he’d had one.
‘It’s…’ Lost for words, Lucie turned back towards the low ring of stones, and not for the first time Arthur wished his first sighting of the circle could’ve been as an adult with the full appreciation for its wonder. As kids, it’d just been a place to play. Another treasure in a place full of treasures. Taking a few paces to the side to give himself an unobstructed view, he tried to take it all in with fresh eyes.
An artificial bank and ditch had been created to elevate the stones a couple of feet above the surrounding ground. A carpet of thick mossy grass covered the bank, blending it seamlessly into the environment as though it had always been there. Here and there he could see patches of brown, some of the many burrows created by the rabbits which had transformed the raised platform into a giant warren.
In a larger circle, about a dozen paces from the edge of the ditch, the thick trunks of ancient oaks stood sentry, their boughs stretching like arms to form a natural roof of silvered green leaves through which the blue sky could still be seen. In a couple of months, those leaves would spread to make a shady canopy and the circle would transform into a place of cool shadows and mystery. He could imagine visiting here with Lucie over the year, sharing her joy as each season dressed the circle in a layer of its own personal magic.
As though sensing his thoughts, she turned to him. ‘Can we come back here when the bluebells are out?’
‘Absolutely. If this warm weather sticks, they might even be out by Easter weekend.’ Which reminded him. ‘Did you give any more thought to inviting your mum up? It’ll be Aunt Morgana’s seventy-fifth birthday that weekend which is why Iggy wants to throw a party.’
‘I haven’t, but I will, if you’re sure we wouldn’t be imposing?’
Arthur waved off the question. ‘Not at all. Tristan thinks we should open it up to the whole village. Get a marquee and put on a big afternoon tea, organise some games for the kids. She’s done a lot over the years for people, though you’d never catch her saying as much, so it’d be nice to give them a chance to show their appreciation.’
‘And get you all used to the idea of opening the grounds up to members of the public,’ Lucie pointed out.
He’d had the same thought, too. It was one thing to accept on an intellectual level the need to use the castle to generate some much-needed income, it was entirely another to surrender the peace and tranquility of the estate to a bunch of strangers. ‘It’s going to be weird.’
She cocked her head as she began to stroll towards him. ‘But not a bad thing? Think of how many people will benefit from having access to somewhere beautiful to bring their children where they can run free in the fresh air without risk from vehicles.’
He groaned. ‘Don’t mention cars! It occurred to me the other night that I’ll need to make provision for a car park somewhere and it kept me up until dawn trying to work out where we can put one without spoiling the views.’ Opening up to the public had seemed like such a simple idea—for about the first five minutes, anyway. ‘And then there’s public liability insurance; welfare provisions; accessibility considerations…the list just goes on and on. Thankfully, Tristan is taking on responsibility for most of that because he has the experience. He was working in corporate hospitality in London before Dad got sick.’
‘I was wondering the other day what he did for a living…’
A pang of something uncomfortably like jealousy stabbed at Arthur. Why had she been thinking about Tristan at all?
‘…because being cocky will only get him so far in li—aah!’
All thoughts of his brother fled as Lucie stumbled and let out a little shriek. Arms windmilling, she tried and failed to steady her balance. Instinct took over, and Arthur found himself in motion, arms outstretched to catch her as she began to fall. His effort to appear heroic ended in abject failure as they went down in a tangle of limbs. A stray elbow caught him just under his ribs, sending the air from his lungs. ‘Oof.’
‘Sorry, I’m sorry!’ Splayed on top of him, hair spilling loose of her ponytail, Lucie raised her head, almost catching him under the chin in the process. As she scrabbled for purchase, her hand connected with the top of his thigh. A couple of inches to the right and he’d be in real trouble. ‘I’ve got my foot caught in something.’
‘Hold still before you do me a mischief.’ It wasn’t only injury he feared. All that squirming around was making certain parts of him pay attention. Arthur grasped her shoulders until she stopped moving. Moss green clashed with hazel, and this close he could see her pupils expand as awareness of their compromising position filtered into her brain. A delicious warmth spread through him. ‘This i
s doing nothing for my good intentions.’
‘G…good intentions?’ She blinked down at him, and he’d have given anything to know what was going on behind those bright green eyes of hers.
Reaching up, he snagged a twig that was tangled in her hair and gently pulled it free. ‘I promise myself I won’t think about how pretty you are, and then somehow we end up in a situation like this. If I was a fanciful man, I’d say fate was pushing us together.’
Her breath seemed to catch for a moment before she pressed her hands to his shoulders, pinning him flat. ‘Or it could just be a pair of loose wellies and too many rabbit holes.’ Her fingers kneaded at the fleece of his sweatshirt as though she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to hold him off or pull him close.
‘That’s probably more accurate,’ he agreed. A large stone was digging into the small of his back, but he didn’t dare move a muscle, afraid he’d break the spell between them.
‘And you are my boss…’ Those fingers were stroking him now, little circular caresses from his collarbone to his shoulder and back.
‘Not technically.’
‘Yes, technically. You are employing me to work here.’ Her voice held more than a hint of frustration, and he knew the feeling.
This would have to be her choice, though, because she was right. The power in their current relationship lay firmly with him. If she believed for one moment, he was pressuring her, that remaining at the castle meant he expected anything from him…damn it. ‘Sit up, and I’ll help you to free your foot.’
She gave him that owlish look of confusion once more, before closing her eyes briefly on a nod. ‘Yes. I think that’s a good idea.’
A flurry of limbs later and he had her boot free and them both back on their feet. Leaves and twigs tangled in her hair and clung to her jumper and he forced his hands into his pockets before he could be tempted to help her brush herself down. Masking a sigh of disappointment, he dragged his eyes from the pretty flush on her cheeks and whistled to the dogs before starting back through the woods towards home. He heard her boots scuffing and scraping through the leaves behind him and lengthened his stride just a little to keep some distance between them.
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 15