Читать книгу Starlight Over Bluebell Castle - Sarah Bennett, Sarah Bennett - Страница 12

‘Sit down, Tristan,’ His great-aunt Morgana peered at him from over the top of the porcelain teacup which looked as pale and delicate as the hand holding it. ‘You’re making the place look untidy.’

Though age had shrunken her somewhat from the formidable figure she had cut during his childhood, nothing had dimmed the strength of her character and the old admonishment was enough to still his pacing. With worry gnawing at him, he resorted to staring out of the sitting room window once more. He’d never felt a sense of responsibility towards another person before, well not more than the usual consideration for his family. From the moment Jess had called him that morning to say not only would she be taking the job, but she and the boys were loaded up and ready to hit the road immediately, he’d been weighed down with the knowledge that he’d put himself firmly in the middle of her very delicate domestic situation. The urgency of their impending arrival hadn’t given him much time for introspection during the day as it’d been all hands to the pump to get suitable accommodation sorted out, but now there was nothing he could do but wait – and worry.

It wasn’t just Jess he would need to look out for. As he and Arthur had cleared out old boxes and rearranged furniture whilst Maxwell and Mrs W cleaned and Lucie had cut fresh flowers from the orangery and even managed to find a few old toys to brighten up the old nursery, it had struck Tristan that he needed to offer a place of security to two very vulnerable little boys. The doubts niggling at him now were not about his family, they’d taken the news that their new events planner came with some very special baggage with their usual open-hearted acceptance. It was himself he was bothered about. And more especially his motivation for offering Jess the job. Yes, he needed help, and yes, she was the perfect person to do it, but sitting beside her in the pub had reminded him of how much he’d missed being around her and he’d not been ready to say goodbye. Stupid, really, but as long as he kept any foolish yearnings for what might have been firmly to himself, there was no reason they couldn’t work successfully side by side as they had these past few years.

His gloomy mood matched the weather beyond the glass. The heavy rain showed no signs of letting up and had now been joined by a thin mist rolling in from the dales. He could barely make out the dark shadow of the protective curtain wall which separated their land from the single road snaking up through the village. A dim light flashed giving rise to his hopes that this might be them at last, but the headlights vanished an instant later, the vehicle passing rather than turning into the heavy iron gates he’d left open. ‘They should’ve been here by now.’

‘They’ll get here when they get here,’ his brother’s relaxed voice from somewhere behind the paper he was reading was enough to make Tristan want to punch him in the nose. ‘I’m sure Jess is just being sensible and taking her time.’

Their great-aunt harrumphed. ‘Phoning out of the blue to say one is setting off without so much as a day’s notice to one’s hosts doesn’t strike me as the actions of a sensible woman.’

‘It wasn’t out of the blue. I offered Jess the job knowing her circumstances, and that we’d have to move quickly if she accepted it. She was willing to book herself into a hotel for a few days, but what’s the point in wasting money unnecessarily?’ Hearing the defensiveness in his tone, Tristan attempted to moderate it as he continued. ‘I’ll try to minimise any disruption, Aunt Morgana, I promise.’

She gave him a look blistering enough to peel the lacquer from the wood panelling at his back but said no more on the subject.

‘I’m sure Arthur’s right and there’s nothing to worry about.’ Lucie offered him a reassuring smile. ‘Come and have a cup of tea.’

Abandoning his watch with one last glance out the window, Tristan slouched over to drop himself onto the floral sofa next to his sister-in-law. They’d complied with his request to take afternoon tea in this rarely used front parlour rather than their usual cosy family room just off the great hall so they would know the instant Jess and the children arrived. It would be churlish of him to refuse a cup of tea when he could have left them in peace and skulked around here on his own.

‘Maybe the weather got too bad and she decided to stop for a while?’ Lucie suggested after handing him a plate of sandwiches to go with his tea. ‘I wouldn’t fancy driving in this on my own, never mind with two little ones on board.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right.’ But wouldn’t she have called? Tristan slid his phone from his pocket to check the reception. Thankfully, the booster they’d had installed over the summer at considerable expense was holding up even in these dank conditions. It was early in the year for it to be so gloomy, but the forecasters were promising the rain was a temporary blip and high pressure would be moving in to bring one last taste of summer by the weekend.

Half a cup of tea and two sandwich fingers later, he was up by the window once more. Folding his newspaper, Arthur tossed it onto the footstool beside his armchair and rose. ‘For goodness sake, if you want something to do why don’t you come and take the dogs out with me?’

‘You’re going out in this?’

‘Doggy bladders don’t care what the weather’s like.’ Crossing to his side, Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Besides, if we’ve worn them out they’re less likely to scare our new arrivals.’ The last was said to his wife with a wink.

‘They can be a bit of a handful if you’re not used to them,’ she said with a rueful grin. ‘Oh, what the heck, I’ll come out with you as well.’

Their arrival in the great hall was greeted by a few enquiring woofs from the dogs who were all cosied up before the fire. As the three of them made their way towards the coat cupboard beside the front door, those woofs rose in volume and were soon joined by the skitter of claws on stone as Nimrod and Bella, their pair of matched greyhounds shortly followed by Tristan’s wheaten terrier, Pippin, came over to see what was going on. When Arthur appeared from the cupboard clad in a Barbour jacket and flat cap, the excitement level in the hall reached fever pitch and Tristan found himself almost toppled over by the milling pack as he raised one foot to wedge it into his wellington boot. Once dressed similarly to his brother, he pulled open one side of the enormous wooden front door and stepped aside expecting a stream of fur to rush past him. Nimrod stuck his nose outside, gave a sniff and promptly sat down on the stone floor. Tristan couldn’t say he blamed the dog, to be honest.

Arthur was having none of it, however, and he marched out the door and down the steps, pausing at the bottom only long enough to toss a couple of tennis balls out across the wide gravel drive. The temptation proved too much and Nimrod shot up and out after the balls, the rest of the dogs following closely on his heels.

Once he was out in it, Tristan decided it wasn’t that bad. The earlier wind had dropped, and if he kept his face ducked down, his cap kept the worst of the rain off. Though the rest of the dogs followed his brother and Lucie as they made towards the path leading through the formal gardens and to the broader open spaces of the parkland beyond, little Pippin kept close to Tristan’s heels, only circling off now and then when one delicious scent or another proved too tempting to ignore.

Happy to let them range ahead, Tristan found himself breaking away from the path and headed towards the open gates at the end of the drive. As he reached them, he ordered Pippin to wait before poking his head past the heavy stone pillar securing the left-hand gate to stare down the hill. Other than a few static lights shining from the houses and cottages lining the lower half of the hill, all was quiet. The oppressive rain laid a strange stillness over everything like a thick wet blanket. ‘What are you doing?’ he muttered to himself. ‘It’s not like staring down the road is going to make them arrive any quicker.’ It still took him a few more moments before he could persuade his feet to move.

Not ready to return to the house, Tristan wandered away from the gates towards his latest obsession. Tugging a torch from his pocket, he shone a thin beam of light through the dirt-encrusted window of the old gatehouse. The saggy old sofa he, Arthur and Iggy had persuaded their father to put in the sitting room when they’d claimed it as their private den still stood before the fireplace. It looked more black than the pale green velvet he remembered, possibly a trick of the light, but more likely from mildew. He pulled a face, wondering just what else might be lurking in the depths of its cushions after so many years of neglect. They’d outgrown it after going off to university, and he doubted very much anyone had been inside in the dozen or so years since.

Ever since Uncle Lancelot had taken it upon himself to convert the rooms above the stable blocks from which he ran his successful horse stud, Tristan had been pondering the idea of carving a private space for himself on the castle grounds. It wasn’t that the castle didn’t have more than enough bedrooms to accommodate them all several times over, but now the long-term future for the castle looked healthy, it was time to start making plans of his own. A home of his own. He’d have to speak to Maxwell, the family’s butler, to see if he knew where the keys were and check the place out before he got too far ahead of himself.

Ignoring the little voice in his head that whispered perhaps now wasn’t the best time to take on yet another project when he had so much already on his plate, he circled around to the other side of the gatehouse, shining his torch through each window in turn. The kitchen was small, but how much space did he need? Though Lancelot and Constance lived above the stables, they still joined the rest of the family for most evening meals. The old wood-fed stove was a bit too primitive for Tristan but could easily be replaced with a microwave and an electric hob. He flashed the torch around the rest of the room. The tile floor looked pretty sound and the wooden cupboards were mostly intact apart from one door hanging loose off its hinges.

His progression round to the two rooms which had once served as bedrooms was halted by a sudden splash of light behind him. A car with a mobile trailer box attached had pulled into the drive and come to a standstill. At last. Abandoning his plans for the gatehouse for the moment, Tristan hurried across the grass. When he got close he could make out the silhouette of a woman, hands gripping the steering wheel as she stared straight ahead through the windscreen. She seemed lost in a world of her own and gave no sign she was aware of his approach.

Using the butt of the torch he tapped lightly on the glass. With a muffled scream she twisted her head to stare up at him through her window before quickly glancing behind her towards the back seat. Following her gaze, he saw two little figures strapped into car seats, their heads lolling in sleep. The window slid down, and she hissed at him. ‘You scared me half to death! What are you doing lurking out here in the bloody dark?’

Adopting the same hushed tones, Tristan bent down. ‘I was out taking my dog for a walk and wondering where on earth you’d got to. Is everything all right? Why did you stop here?’

She waved a hand towards the castle. ‘Look at it, for goodness sake.’

His eyes followed the direction of her hand. The rain had thinned to a drizzle, casting the illuminated front of the castle in a misty curtain. Looming out of the darkness, he supposed it cut an imposing sight, but for him it was simply his home. ‘What am I looking at?’

Her incredulous stare narrowed as she realised he was teasing her. ‘Not funny.’

‘Well, a bit funny,’ he argued, giving her a grin. ‘Come on, you must be knackered, let’s get you inside in the warm.’

She eyed him for a long moment before nodding. ‘It was a tough drive.’ As though admitting it brought the reality of what she’d been through rushing forward, her shoulders slumped, and he could make out the lines of strain bracketing her eyes.

‘The rain’s almost stopped. If you want to leave the car here and walk the rest of the way …?’ He or Arthur could come back and fetch it in a bit once Jess and the boys were sorted.

‘It’s so silly, it’s only a hundred yards.’ When she made no move, Tristan leaned in and turned the engine off before tugging open her door. ‘Come on, the fresh air will do you good.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right.’ She still seemed a bit dazed when she climbed out, so Tristan put his arm out to steady her. When she looked a bit more with it, he quickly unzipped his jacket and slung it around her shoulders.

‘Mine’s in the boot somewhere,’ she protested, vaguely.

‘And you can get it later.’ Tristan moved towards the passenger door and popped it open quietly. ‘This is Elijah?’ he asked Jess over his shoulder as he crouched down beside the sleeping boy.

‘Yes.’ Shrugging into his coat, she leaned across Tristan to shake Elijah’s shoulder. ‘Hey Eli, wake up, sweetheart, we’re here.’

A pair of thick sooty lashes blinked open to reveal a set of deep-set green eyes inherited from his mother. ‘Mummy?’

She tugged the complicated mechanism strapping him in then straightened up. ‘This is Tristan. Remember I told you about him? He’s going to help you out while I get your brother.’

Those big olive-green eyes blinked owlishly as they watched Jess disappear around the back of the car before turning to gaze at Tristan. ‘Hello, Elijah.’

‘’lo.’ The little boy made no move to get out, his expression a combination of suspicion and weary confusion.

Glancing behind him, Tristan clicked his fingers towards where Pippin was busy sniffing at the tyres of the trailer behind them. ‘Come here, Pippin. I’ve got a new friend for you to meet.’ The little terrier bounced over, his stub of a tail wagging a mile a minute as he put his front paws up on the side of the car and gave Elijah an inquisitive sniff. ‘This is Pippin,’ Tristan said. ‘We’ve got lots of lovely dogs here at the castle, but he’s my special friend. He can be your friend too, if you’d like?’

Still looking uncertain, Elijah held out a tentative hand towards the terrier, giving a little giggle when Pippin licked the tips of his fingers. ‘It tickles.’

‘Down now, Pip,’ Tristan tap his thigh and the obedient dog came to sit at his heel. Turning back to Elijah, Tristan held out his hand. ‘Ready now?’ The boy nodded and wiggled down from the car. When he left his hand resting in Tristan’s he kept hold of it as he rose, making sure to keep his grip loose so Elijah could slip free at any time.

‘Well now, who’s this?’ Jess asked as she returned with a very sleepy Isaac in her arms and Pippin came to sniff at her feet.

‘Pip!’ Elijah said, then glanced up at Tristan as though checking he’d got that right.

Smiling, Tristan nodded. ‘His name is Pippin, but he likes to be called Pip by his friends.’ Pippin wagged his tail in agreement.

‘Making friends, already? Aren’t you a lucky boy, Eli? Now where’s your coat?’ Jess bent forward, still clutching Isaac to her hip.

Over her shoulder, Tristan surveyed the jumble of toys, pillows, colourful plastic lidded cups and other detritus spilling across the back seat and into the footwells beneath. ‘Do you want me to look?’

Jess straightened. ‘Thanks. It’s a navy puffa-type thing.’ At that moment, Isaac straightened in her arms and pulled the kind of face that portended nothing but trouble. As the first wail escaped his lips, Jess jiggled him. ‘Shh, it’s all right, bubba. We’re here now.’ Paying no heed to her assurances, the toddler continued to cry.

‘Take him in,’ Tristan nodded down the drive. ‘I’ll find Elijah’s jacket and we’ll be right behind you.’

‘Okay, sorry.’ Jess gave him an apologetic smile before heading towards the castle, crooning nonsense words to Isaac as she tried to console him.

Crouching once more, Tristan began to turn over everything in the back of the car, but the jacket remained stubbornly elusive. Giving Elijah a quick glance, he asked ‘Any idea where your coat is hiding?’ Elijah shook his head, his expression falling.

Fearing more tears, Tristan decided to abandon the hunt. The rain was nothing more than the odd spot now, and the boy’s sweatshirt looked warm enough for the couple of minutes it would take them to get inside. ‘Brave men like us don’t need coats, right?’

Clearly liking the sound of being a brave man, Elijah nodded. ‘Right!’

After closing the car door, Tristan held out a hand. ‘Come on then, let’s get inside. Betsy’s been working hard all afternoon to make you a very special welcome tea.’

Elijah linked fingers with him, eyes bright with curiosity. ‘Who’s Betsy?’

‘She’s our cook,’ Tristan said, starting towards the castle. He kept his stride short to make sure the boy could easily keep pace with him. ‘Our house is very big, so we need lots of people to help take care of it, and us.’ It suddenly occurred to him how overwhelming all this must be and paused to crouch so he was at eye-level with Elijah. ‘I’m sure this is all a bit scary for you, but I promise that everyone here at Bluebell Castle is very excited about you and Isaac and Mummy coming to stay with us. If anything upsets or bothers you, tell your mummy straightaway and we will sort it out.’ He squeezed Elijah’s hand very gently. ‘And you can always come and talk to me, okay?’