Jumping in Puddles (12 page)

“We’ll have money after Saturday. If the number of people come that Ellie anticipates, we—”

“But I’ve already earmarked that for building supplies to complete the bedrooms.” He groaned.

“We’ll find a way. One step at a time.” Henry slapped him on the back.

“Have you seen Ellie?”

“Not for a while. She er…” Henry exhaled.

“What?”

“She was talking to me, and as she walked away, I remembered something I needed to tell her, but she had a phone call. Seemed to upset her. I didn’t bother her, but something she said on the phone jarred with me. ‘This place is vast. It could be anywhere.’”

Jago frowned. “She’s looking for something?”

“It might not mean anything,” Henry said. “In fact, forget I told you. Apart from you, I’ve never seen anyone work so hard for Sharwood. She’s achieved more in a few days than I ever thought possible. It isn’t just what she’s done, it’s her enthusiasm. She’s like a little ray of sunshine, the sort who can see the positive in any situation.” He stared at Jago.

“Unlike me.”

“I’m not trying to underestimate what you have to deal with, but look at how much you’ve done, look at what you have here. Be proud of it. Glass half-full, not half-empty, Jago.”

Easy for him to say. “How did you find her?”

“A flier came in the mail. She was offering help with professional and personal goals. A combination of life coaching and business advice. I called her, and she persuaded me to invite her up. You know how persuasive she is.”

“Right.”

“I’m glad I did. She’s made us all feel better.”

Had she? Something inside Jago died a little. Had that been part of her plan last night? Suck him off and make him feel better? Was that why she’d not let him do the same to her? All part of the fucking service? Literally? Was she no different than the woman he’d nearly fucked in Harrogate? Henry had dug deep into his pockets again.

“How much are you paying her?” Jago spoke through gritted teeth.

“Nothing.”

His jaw dropped as his preconceptions dissolved. “Nothing? Who the hell would do this for nothing?”

“She wants a reference; that’s all. Oh and a place to stay.”

Suspicion shoved its way back. Jago stamped up and down. “We’ve been bloody conned.”

Henry caught hold of his arm. “How? She’s Mary Poppins and Mother Teresa rolled into one. She’s worked in the garden, brought all these people to the house, planned the open day, tidied your wreck of a room. What does she get out of it?”

“She’s going to run away with the money.”

Henry gave him a disappointed look and let him go. “For goodness’ sake, Jago.”

“Nobody does something like this for nothing.”

“If you think she’s after the money from this open day, then make sure you don’t give her the chance to get it,” Henry snapped.

Jago stomped back to the house. He needed to think, and he might as well work while he did his thinking. He took the stairs two at a time and made his way to the bedroom he’d started to paint. He’d told Stan to leave it for him to finish. When he opened the door, he recoiled in surprise. All the painting had been done, but not only that, the floor looked as though it had been sanded and cleaned. The rubbish had gone; even the windows looked polished.
Bloody hell.

He backed out into the corridor and saw Stan walking toward him.

“I can’t believe you finished this room already,” Jago said.

Stan frowned. “We haven’t been in there. You said not to. Want to come and see what we’re up to?”

Had his lodgers finally pulled their fingers out and done something useful?

Stan showed him the work accomplished on the other bedrooms. Everyone looked so cheerful and busy, and he felt like crap and was annoyed with himself for feeling that way. But it was as though everything was racing out of his control. He felt like he had when he’d been a very junior doctor and there was so much to do, too many balls to juggle, and he couldn’t let one drop, or something terrible might happen.

He grabbed a sanding block and headed for the turret room. He needed to work and think without interruption.

His phone vibrated, and he yanked it out and checked the caller’s ID.

“Hello, Mr. Preston.”

“Good morning, Lord Carlyle. I’ve had the preliminary report from my surveyors. Not good.” He tsked. “Not good at all.”

Jago bristled. “Glad to hear it. You don’t want to buy. I don’t want to sell. Good day.”

He switched off the phone and immediately worried he’d done the wrong thing.

* * * *

Ellie had been walking all day. With the ring clasped in her hand, she’d covered every inch of the formal gardens, gone up and down the lines of umbrella-shaped trees in the orchard, trailed along the herbaceous borders, dipped in and out of the shrubbery, followed the line of the yew hedge and the lime trees, and felt nothing. Well, nothing apart from admiration for the work of Henry and his predecessors, for the variety of blooms and foliage, for the banks of color at every turn, for a garden that was simply exquisite.

Henry introduced her to Gavin, his young helper, and also to James, who looked about seventy. It was hard to believe that between the three of them and presumably Jago, they kept these gardens looking so magnificent. There were still areas that needed work, and Ellie hadn’t been able to help herself tinkering as she walked round, removing weeds, trimming edges, tidying bushes.

The bad news was that she was as convinced as she could be that the Kewen wasn’t out here in the grounds. She had the ring in her pocket and had felt nothing. Though if the Kewen was buried, could it be too deep for her to sense? And she still wasn’t sure she’d feel anything. The reaction in the auction house could easily have been shock. The book could be wrong. What if there was no link between the pieces? Ellie brushed aside that thought. This was faerie treasure, faerie hoard. It was a wonder it hadn’t found a way back to Faerieland on its own.

She emerged scrambling from the wilderness garden to find Henry heading in her direction.

“What have you been up to?” he asked.

“Getting the layout of the grounds fixed in my head to help with drawing up a map.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “Think we need signs?”

He scratched his head. “I don’t think anyone will get lost, but maybe a few signs would be useful.”

“Toilets?”

“Another good point. There are some in the stable block. I’ll take care of signs for those and make sure everywhere is clean.”

“Has an archaeological dig ever taken place here?” she asked.

“Not to my knowledge. This house is four hundred years old. There might have been a dwelling here before, but the present building likely covered it. Why?”

“Long shot, I know, but I wondered about buried treasure. Should I try and get hold of a metal detector?” Ellie studied his face as she spoke.

Henry laughed. “I’m always digging up something, but it’s usually bits of pottery or broken clay pipes. In all the years I’ve been here, I found one coin, and Reb—Lady Carlyle—gave it to the York museum. A Viking coin.”

“I’m trying to think of a way to raise more money. How many bottles of champagne did Jago say he needed? Thirty? We need to sit and make a list.”

“His brother wants a llama too.”

“What for? Ring bearer? Oh God, it’d probably spit at the vicar, eat the flowers, and poop on the wedding dress.”

Henry winced. “I’m not sure whether Denzel means it or not. Same as the faerie theme. What would make it look like a faerie wedding?”

She chewed her lip. “Lots of lights, especially in the trees. Gauzy fabric. Sparkles. Flowers.” Her mother had told stories about hers, the thousands of lights in the forest, the vibrant colors of dresses and flowers, the feast, dancing, fireworks. She’d said good-bye to her family and then come to this side with her new husband. She must have really loved him to give up so much.

“The cake alone could cost over five hundred pounds,” Henry said. “I looked on Google. Maybe as much as a thousand.”

“Whoa. Could we make one? Maybe your new friend could help. I like decorating cakes but not making them. We could do a South American theme, build a chocolate mountain with white icing for snow, and put little sugar llamas on it.”

“Is there no end to your talents?”

“Er…” Ellie left a long pause before she grinned and said, “No.”

He laughed. “We still need money for the ingredients and decorations. I have very little to spare.”

Here was her opening. “I asked Jago if he had any more of his mother’s jewelry to send to auction apart from the ring.”

He paused long enough to make her wonder if she’d just made a mistake.

“Actually, the ring was mine,” he said.

“Yours?” She gasped, failing to hide her shock.

That hadn’t been the answer she’d been expecting. A shadow had flitted across Henry’s face in response to her gasp, and even though she knew he didn’t want to talk about it, she had little choice.

“Was it your mother’s ring?”

“I found it.”

“I thought you said you’d never dug up anything of value.”

His mouth tightened. “There’s no more where that came from.”

Ellie could feel this slipping away from her. “Henry, I didn’t mean—someone’s coming.”

He turned and his face lit. “Diane!”

A tall, slim middle-aged woman with shoulder-length fair hair hurried toward them, her smile just as wide as Henry’s. He kissed her cheek and gestured to Ellie. “Ellie, this is Diane Morgan, who’s helping make Saturday happen.”

Ellie shook her hand, relieved Henry had been distracted, but she still had answers to pry out of him.

“Good news,” Diane said. “You know I worried about rain? I’ve borrowed a small marquee belonging to a bank manager who’s just moved into the village. I’ve managed to get it delivered. Where do you want to put it?”

“Wonderful. On the lawn. We’ll collect Gavin and James on the way.”

Ellie hurried in the opposite direction, heading for the gatehouse. While Henry was occupied, she’d search there.

With the door locked behind her, Ellie took a deep breath before she made for Henry’s bedroom. It felt like the worst sort of betrayal, snooping like this. Even though he’d said there was no more where the ring had come from, she had to prove that to herself. She searched carefully, going through every drawer, feeling underneath for anything hidden. She checked his wardrobe, on top and underneath, as well as under his mattress and the little bedside cabinet. Ellie sucked in a breath when she saw the photo on the windowsill. Henry in his midtwenties with a woman who looked like Jago’s mother.

The ring was on her finger.

But that only answered one question. That Lady Carlyle knew about the ring. So when did Henry find it? Did Henry give it her and she gave it back? Did it come to him after her death? No way of knowing without asking. Ellie sighed, and as she emerged from his room, she turned to scan from the doorway to make sure all was as she’d found it. Everywhere else in the house, including the attic, came under the same scrutiny, but she found nothing, sensed nothing.

Back in the kitchen, Ellie sat at the table with several sheets of paper and began to draw the garden. She labeled the different sections and indicated a direction to walk with arrows, then rubbed them out. People could choose where they wanted to go. She wished she could too.

Chapter Nine

Jago stood on the steps of the hall next to his griffin. He shook the hand and thanked every person who’d worked there that day. His throat thickened when he grasped Stan’s fingers. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad Ellie contacted me. We’ll be back on Monday, see if we can get your bedrooms usable for the wedding.”

“That would be wonderful.”

As the college vehicles pulled away, Hugh drove up with Charles. Jago waited for them to get out of Hugh’s car. “Thanks for your work on the bedroom.”

Hugh shuffled his feet in the gravel. “Sorry we haven’t done much. We should be able to finish it by the end of the weekend.”

Jago frowned. “It’s already done.”

His two lodgers cast each other puzzled glances.

“Ellie must have worked all day then,” Charles said. “She was still at it when we went to bed.”

“How much was there left to do?”

“Skirting boards, a wall,” Hugh said. “Another coat over everything.”

Jago was puzzled. It had all been done by this morning. So had Ellie gone back last night after he’d walked her to the gatehouse? Even if she had, that was a hell of a lot of work. Something didn’t add up.

“By the way, there’s a TV crew coming at some point. They’re filming a documentary about Sharwood weddings.”

“We had an e-mail invite arrive from Denzel today,” Charles said. “Are they going to film that too?”

Jago nodded.

“If there’s anything we can do,” Hugh said.

“Thanks. I’m sure there’ll be something.”

Jago headed to an open-sided marquee erected on the lawn. Henry was talking to a slim blonde and looked…different. Straighter back, freshly shaved, brighter eyes.

“Jago! Come and meet Diane Morgan, chair of the village WI. Another lifesaver. She’s arranged the marquee. Diane, this is Lord Carlyle.”

“Jago, please.” He shook her hand. “Lovely to meet you. This is fantastic. Thanks so much.” He turned to Henry. “Have you seen Ellie?”

“Not for some time.” As Diane moved to help Gavin, Henry guided Jago to a quiet corner of the lawn.

His heavy sigh alarmed Jago. “What?”

“Did you tell Ellie about the ring I gave you to auction?”

Jago thought hard. “No, I didn’t. She asked if I’d sold any of my mother’s jewelry, and I told her no. She offered to value it. I didn’t mention a ring.”

“Yet she knows a ring went to auction. I told her it was mine.”

A deep weight sat in his stomach, the sort of feeling he had when he prepared to give a patient’s family bad news.
No, they’re not going to make it. No, they won’t live to see their grandchild born, their next birthday, or go on that holiday they’ve waited all their lives to take
. He was swamped by deep, stomach-clamping dread.
Shit.