Tossing the tablet onto the carpet by his feet, Tristan sank back into the corner of the sofa with a sigh. ‘Or perhaps we’re not interesting or unique enough to capture their attention. There are plenty of stately homes and amusement parks clamouring for their money, why risk it on a new place they know virtually nothing about. We need a hook, something to draw them to us.’ His hazel eyes settled on Will. ‘Something like you, perhaps.’
‘You must be bloody joking!’ Though Will didn’t find it funny at all.
‘Nope, I’m deadly serious. Your profile is already sky-high so if we want to take advantage of the draw of your name, now’s the perfect time. Besides, you can deflect the speculation in the press about you and Phillipa Cornwall by making it clear you’ve been up here for the past couple of months.’
Will felt sick. He thought Tristan and he were friends, that from the sympathetic response he’d got from both him and Arthur this morning that he understood how much the lies and speculation in the papers upset him. ‘Talk some sense into your brother,’ he said to Igraine, pushing to his feet.
She stared up at him in confusion. ‘What’s the matter?’ She rounded on Tristan. ‘What did you say?’
Tristan shrugged. ‘I just suggested we could release a story about Will’s work here on the water garden as a way to boost sales.’
‘And I told you when I first got here that I wasn’t interested in any more publicity.’ Will snapped.
‘Hey, now. You said you wanted any publicity to focus on what you’ve been doing here, and that’s exactly what I’m talking about. It distracts from the negative stuff going around and will also hopefully get people talking about the castle and what we’re trying to achieve here.’
‘Yeah, yeah. You’re doing it from the goodness of your heart, and all you want to do is help me.’ Will couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his tone. ‘I’m sick to the back teeth of being used.’ He stormed from the room, not missing the speculative glance Helena gave him on the way out.
Will kept walking, out the front door and across the crunching gravel of the driveway until he hit the grass and quickened his pace. Anger and embarrassment gave momentum to his feet until he was jogging past the high hedges of the formal gardens. By the time he reached the row of poplars screening the work site for the water gardens, he’d run off the worst of his mood.
Sinking down on the edge of the bank, Will let his legs dangle over the edge. Shit! He shouldn’t have lost his temper like that. Tristan was only trying to do what was right for the family finances, and they would have to announce his involvement in the project at some point, or what the hell was the point in him doing it? But the idea of having his name bandied about in the papers again, even if it was for a good cause? Will shuddered at the thought of it.
His eyes surveyed the land before him. The terracing works were almost complete, and the plumbers had installed the storage tank and laid the network of pipes which would feed the system. The concrete troughs which would make up the cascading steps of the water garden had been poured and were drying in their wooden moulds. Right now, it looked an unholy mess, but he could see beyond that to what would be one of his best achievements in just a few more weeks.
‘Hi.’
At the sound of Igraine’s soft greeting, he turned to see her settling down beside him. ‘Hi.’
Curling her knees up, she rested her chin upon them, eyes fixed out upon the land beyond them. ‘Tristan’s sorry for being so crass.’
‘I shouldn’t have lost my temper.’ He hooked a hand around her ankle, needing the anchor of her touch. ‘It’s been a really shit day.’
She leant into his side, head resting on his shoulder. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘It’s getting better all the time now you’re here.’ He pressed a kiss to her temple. ‘I’ll talk to Tristan about doing a statement, let’s just let things die down a bit first.’
‘Of course. He understands. We all do, don’t worry about it.’
If only it was that simple.
* * *
Although he and Tristan had apologised to each other, things were still a bit awkward between them for a few more days. As they moved into July, the hot weather continued and work around the gardens was starting to take shape. The maze was cut and ready and the Davises were finishing off the last of the big hedges. The woods had been surveyed, the walks cleared and marked out ready for the first explorers to tramp their way beneath the leafy boughs.
In an effort to boost interest in their website, Tristan had started blogging about the ongoing works around the grounds, and the mission of the three siblings to save their ancestral home. Interest was starting to build, and Arthur had done a couple of interviews with the local press looking every inch the baronet as he’d posed on the steps of the castle, flanked by Nimrod and Bella, the two greyhounds. Will kept his head down and his mind focused on getting the water gardens finished.
Tristan had agreed to wait until the fountains were farther along enough so they could include some images of them as part of any press release they put together, ‘wanting to make a splash’ as the other man had joked. Will had pushed his team hard and they were ahead of schedule so he reckoned it would be a day or two more at most before they’d be ready to test the fountains. Pleased with the progress he was making, Will decided to take a break and check on how Igraine was getting on with the planting in the apothecary’s garden.
As he approached the open door to the garden, the sounds of laughter and women’s voices greeted him. Stepping inside, he grinned at the sight of a row of bottoms lined up along the length of one long flower bed. ‘Looking good, ladies!’
Igraine peered over her shoulder at him, her laughing eyes shaded by the wide brim of a floppy straw hat. ‘Come to lend us a hand, have you?’
He waved a hand towards the others around her. To her left, Lucie and Constance were working together to plant several clumps of lavender, to her right, Mrs W and Betsy were planting what looked like verbena. Heavenly scents came at him from all sides, the majority of the red brick beds already bursting with plants and shrubs. ‘It looks like you’ve recruited everyone else already.’
Tugging off her gloves, Igraine rose from the little rubber pad she’d been knelt on to protect her knees from the paving slabs and came over to join him. ‘We’re almost there.’ Pulling off her hat, she wiped her brow with her forearm then glanced up at the sky. ‘This heat is a killer. We’re going to have to water in here every day to make sure everything survives.’
There was one noticeable absence from the gathering. ‘Where’s your mother?’
Igraine rolled her eyes. ‘A friend of hers in London invited her to stay, apparently. The first we knew about it was when a taxi rolled up to take her to the station, but she said it had been arranged for ages.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe she told me, and I forgot. I do try hard to forget most of what she says.’
‘How long will she be away for?’
Apparently catching the hopeful note in his question, Igraine laughed. ‘A couple of weeks.’
Not long enough, but better than he could’ve hoped for. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. ‘Long enough for Constance to persuade your uncle to move back in for a bit?’ Lancelot was still stubbornly refusing to move out of the stables, sticking to his word about not being under the same roof as Helena.
‘I doubt it. The two of them seem quite cosy in there. I hear he’s cleared out one of the other rooms and been appropriating bits and pieces of furniture to create a cosy little lounge. Now Arthur’s got the internet booster sorted out, Lancelot told me he and Constance are quite happy to Netflix and chill out there together.’
Will grimaced at the euphemism. ‘Do you think he knew what he was saying when he told you that?’
She grinned. ‘Oh, I’m very sure he did. I’ll be surprised if he moves back to the castle even after Mother eventually leaves for good. He was making noises about getting the stables properly converted into a self-contained apa
rtment, although he might have his work cut out convincing Constance to put up with the smell of horses.’
Will turned to watch the older woman working side by side with her daughter. ‘Do you think she’ll stay then?’
‘I think so. I know Lucie wants her close, and Arthur wants whatever Lucie wants. Things seem pretty solid between her and Lancelot, so I really hope they give it a go.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Did you come here for any particular reason, or just to catch up?’
Casting a quick glance towards the flower bed, he noted the others were all busy working away with their backs turned to them. ‘I came here to give you this,’ he said, swinging Igraine into his arms and planting a kiss on the soft, yielding warmth of her mouth.
A slow handclap came from behind them, joined quickly by others until it became a full round of applause complete with a couple of cheers and a very piercing wolf-whistle. Releasing Igraine with a grin, Will swept a bow towards the other women who’d all turned to watch them.
Red-faced and more than a little flustered, Igraine bent to scoop up her hat which had fallen from her head when he’d swung her around. ‘Right. Well, we can continue this discussion later.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Will said with a grin before blowing a kiss at their audience. ‘See you later, lovely ladies!’
*
His chance to pick up their ‘discussion’ came a lot later than Will hoped. Having returned to the water garden’s site, he’d found a scene of absolute chaos. One of the small dump trucks they’d been using to shift the last of the excess soil away had driven over the pipe which had been filling the storage tank, sending water shooting into the air, and soaking everything in sight. The protective plastic shielding over the pipe had given way under the weight of the loaded truck, from the looks of things so work had had to stop to not only carry out a repair to the water pipe, but to hold a full investigation and safety inspection of all the equipment they’d hired from the same supplier to ensure nothing else was at risk of failing.
It was getting on for ten-thirty by the time a tired and filthy Will finally trudged up the front steps to the castle. He’d sent a message earlier to say he wouldn’t be back for dinner, and was delighted to find a note waiting for him propped up in the centre of the round table next to a covered tray holding a cold supper for him. Collecting the tray, he decided to head straight up to his room as he would need a shower before he could do anything else.
The door to his bedroom stood slightly ajar, and when he edged around it, he was greeted by the arresting sight of Igraine dressed in a silky looking vest and matching shorts fast asleep across his bed. The TV was still on, tuned to a news channel. Putting his tray carefully down on a side table, he used the remote to turn the sound down, but left it on.
Igraine didn’t stir in the time it took him to shower and pull on a clean set of boxers and a T-shirt, nor did she do much more than mumble and turn over when he settled himself against the headboard beside her with the tray upon his lap. With only half his attention on the TV Will let the headlines scroll past as he tucked into the selection of cheese, cold meats, pickles and several thick slices of Betsy’s wonderful homemade bread and butter. He was just finishing off his supper when he accidentally dropped his fork, the clatter of it loud in the quiet room.
Igraine lifted her head. ‘What? Oh, it’s you,’ she said with a sleepy smile. ‘What time is it?’
‘Almost eleven, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ Reaching out, he smoothed her messy curls from her forehead ‘Go back to sleep, sweetheart.’
She pulled a face. ‘I’m thirsty.’
He couldn’t help but laugh at the way she’d scrunched up her nose, like a sleepy child not quite sure where they were. ‘Here, sit up then.’ He handed her the glass of water he’d filled from the sink in his bathroom.
She drained over half of it, then wriggled off the bed to go and refill it before he could stop her. Looking much more alert when she returned, she handed him back the glass before clambering onto the bed to sit cross-legged beside him. ‘Are you eating that?’ She gestured towards the chunk of sharp cheddar cheese on his plate.
‘Apparently not.’ He nudged it towards her with his fork, knowing it was her absolute favourite.
With a happy grin, she swiped it through the remains of the piccalilli in the corner of his plate and popped it into her mouth. ‘Heaven,’ she mumbled around the mouthful, eyes closing in sheer pleasure at the taste.
Will shifted the tray from his lap, stood and crossed the room to place it on the table beneath the window out of the way. ‘You’ll have to clean your teeth again now,’ he said, pointing towards the bathroom.
As they stood next to one another, he marvelled at how intimate an act so ordinary as brushing one’s teeth could be when you did it next to another person. Most of Igraine’s toiletries had migrated to his bathroom over the past weeks. She hadn’t slept in her own bed since the first night they’d been together, and as far as he could tell she only used it to get dressed and for the occasional shower-when he wasn’t fortunate enough to persuade her to share his in the mornings.
He liked the sight of her things jumbled in together with his. He’d never been a neat freak, and it appeared Igraine was also missing the tidy gene from the way her clothes from that day were hanging half-in, half-out of his laundry hamper. Having never shared a domestic space with anyone since leaving home, he hadn’t expected it to feel so comfortable so quickly. He’d brought women home before, sure, but they’d been sent on their way again with all their belongings intact the next morning.
This though, he could get used to. What would it be like to sit across from Igraine at the breakfast bar in his kitchen as they served each other coffee and toast and ran over their plans for the day? Or to come home in the evening and curl up in their pyjamas on his enormous corner sofa with a takeaway in their laps, and a boxset on the TV. It appealed to him on the most visceral level, but how on earth could he expect her to uproot herself from her family and everything she knew and loved to join him in a soulless high-rise apartment in the heart of Battersea?
He couldn’t stay here, that was for sure. He’d already stretched the limits of his team’s patience by throwing them in at the deep end when he’d upped sticks to come up to Bluebell Castle. Besides, he had a living to earn, and once the water gardens were finished there was no place for him here. Would he be able to tempt Igraine with the proposition of going into business with him? And could the idea of living with him ever be enough to tempt her away from not only her home, but her family? He wasn’t ready to ask. He wasn’t ready to face the prospect of her rejecting him-not that he’d blame her. These past months in Derbyshire had spoiled him to the point returning home held little appeal. How on earth would it feel to someone who’d lived in these wild, open spaces all their life?
‘You’re very deep in thought,’ Igraine said, having rinsed her mouth and stowed her toothbrush in the little cup next to his.
‘Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.’ Taking the towel she offered, he wiped his mouth. ‘Come on, let’s get you back into bed, we’ve a long day tomorrow.’
‘Every day is a long day at the moment,’ she grumbled as she settled next to him beneath the thin sheet which was all they were using for cover in the lingering heatwave.
‘I know, but we’re getting there. The apothecary’s garden was looking fantastic today.’
‘Yes. It feels really good to have another thing ticked off the list. I’m almost starting to believe we can have it all ready in time.’
He settled down beside her then held still until she’d wriggled herself into the right position for sleeping. As she tugged her pillow an inch or two one way, and then the other, he couldn’t help but smile. She was like the princess and the pea, seeming to feel every little lump and bump until she finally found that one perfect position that suited her. He flicked off the bedside lamp, leaving only the glow of the TV to illuminate the room with its ghostly glow.
‘Are you turning off the telly?’ she murmured into his chest.
‘In a minute. Ssh, go to sleep.’ He kissed her hair, then settled one hand on his favourite spot where her hip curved out into the cheek of her bottom.
He was in that awkward headspace; physically and mentally exhausted, but his brain was still too full of the day’s events to switch off enough to let him sleep. As he listened to Igraine’s breathing deepen and slow into the gentle rhythm of sleep, he tried to match the pace of his breath to hers, feeling his body ease and relax as he did.
The weather came and went on the TV showing no signs of a break in the temperatures and he was just reaching over for the remote to turn it off when the newspaper review came on. The news anchor introduced her panel of journalists and the early front pages flashed up one by one. It was all the same stuff, the endless political fallout from the referendum seeming no closer to a solution. The broadsheets came and went, and the images shifted to the brighter, bolder photo-splashed front pages of the tabloids.
His pleasant sense of drowsiness vanished as the most notorious of the red-tops flashed up. ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!’
Chapter 18
Iggy shivered as she tugged the shirt she’d pulled on over her pyjamas closer around her. She wasn’t cold-even at close to 1 a.m. the temperature was still oppressive-but she was beyond that point of tiredness to where her body couldn’t seem to stop shivering. It didn’t help that her bare legs kept sticking to the leather of the sofa. Glancing around the room at the collection of equally tired faces, she sighed. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere, why don’t we try and get some sleep and we can sort things out in the morning?’
Will looked up from his laptop only long enough to glare at her before he was head down once more, fingers flying over the keys. ‘We need to find out where the hell this leak came from.’ He turned the screen towards her, thrusting the array of images at her. ‘Look at this and tell me it doesn’t bother you to have our private life splashed all over the papers.’
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 45