by Olsen, Lisa
“Ah yes, perhaps,” he cleared his throat. “Now then, your eldest son will come into his inheritance when he is twenty-five years of age. Until then, you hold sole control over the entire estate.
“My eldest son; you mean Jack, right?”
“The contract is deliberately non-specific in that, my Lady, on the chance something should happen to your son,” he coughed uncomfortably.
“He’s my only son, so…”
“You’re still young,” Lowesley observed, “I hardly think you need call yourself an old maid as of yet, if you’ll forgive me.”
“I guess that’s true.” Not that she was in that headspace at all; Sara couldn’t imagine starting another family after her marital disaster.
“Who knows, you may find your Prince Charming yet,” he chuckled and Sara decided to change the subject.
“How did you find me?”
“Beg pardon, my Lady?”
“How did you figure out I was the heir to the Darling Estate anyway? Darling isn’t that rare of a name and I had no idea I had any family in England at all.”
“It took us some time to track you down,” he admitted. “We’ve been without an heir for nearly a year since Sir Stephen’s unfortunate demise.”
“So it wasn’t a well known fact that the family tree branched out to the States?”
“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t. There was very little in the way of public record with the war on, but as near as we can tell, in 1918 your great grandfather went to live in America as a child.”
Sara had seen pictures of the man, but never met him; he’d died before she was born. “Who would the title go to if you hadn’t found us?”
“That would take us on another exhaustive search, my Lady. Let’s be glad we did find you and Sir Jack when we did,” his eyes glistened with something Sara couldn’t be sure of. “Now then, we come to the heart of the matter. I have here the final documents for you to sign and then we shall discuss the financial particulars.”
Glad there were no more stipulations, Sara briefly glanced over the last papers before signing and dating them. “I guess that makes this place ours,” she sighed happily, on pins and needles to hear the actual value of the estate.
Lowesley wrote a figure on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. “This is the value of your current account.”
“Is that dollars?” Sara stared at the slip of paper, agog at all the zeros.
“That would be pounds,” he leaned back with a grin.
“Wow,” Sara’s finger traced over the number. “That’s a lot of money.” More than she’d been expecting, no matter what fantasies she’d shared with Joanie. “Ah, I wonder if I could ask your advice. How much do you think it would cost to have this place brought back to its former glory? I’m willing to do some of the work myself. I know this is a lot of money, but I don’t want to blow all of Jack’s inheritance on restoration. Am I kidding myself or could it be done for a portion of that?”
Lowesley’s smile was contrite. “You misunderstand me. The value of the estate is considerably higher. That amount represents your current account… you might call it a personal checking account, to be used for everyday transactions. This amount will be deposited into your account on a yearly basis for your own personal living expenses. There is also an account for which to draw salaries for the staff and general upkeep of Darling Park which I review, as executor, on an annual basis, and I think you’ll find it more than generous to hire a suitable staff. Any major renovations that would benefit the innate value of the estate could be drawn from the main account directly.” He slid over another piece of paper. “This is the value of the estate in its entirety.”
Sara stared at the paper, the numbers swimming before her eyes as she tried to take it in. People didn’t really have that much money, did they? And they wanted to give it all to her?
“The estate is yours, of course, but it’s a bit more complicated to remove a sizeable amount from the main accounts, so you’ll have to consult with my office before you can make any grand purchases over and above your current account.”
Nodding mutely, she tried to imagine what she’d possibly buy that would exhaust the yearly living expenses but came up dry. “So…” her voice lacked strength, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “I can get started on the renovations then.”
“Almost at once, my Lady. Simply have the invoices sent to my office and I’ll ensure they’re taken care of.”
“Thank you for coming out here, Mr. Lowesley. I’ll be in touch soon to talk to you about plans for Darling Park.”
“Very good,” he rose at the same instant she did. “And may I say congratulations, we are all of us very glad to have you here,” he smiled warmly.
“Thank you,” she smiled back, “me too.”
Chapter Four
Sara slipped out the French doors instead of going to find Jack and Joanie to explore as promised, needing to clear her head a little bit and come up with a plan of action. It wasn’t that she’d had a terribly unlucky life, but windfalls like that didn’t happen to girls like her, and she wasn’t sure she could trust it right away. It was tempting to take half of the yearly allowance and squirrel it away somewhere just in case they changed their minds and decided to ask for it back.
Her shoes crunched against the dead twigs littering the path, and Sara was once again struck by the ruined state of the gardens. A quick jog to the side of the house below the master suite confirmed the yard was just as dilapidated as the rest of the place. So why had she thought she’d seen a well manicured garden in full bloom the night before? She was still shaking her head over it when she came upon the chauffeur polishing the chrome on the front grill.
Finally, the first semi-normal looking person she’d seen in a while. Instead of a traditional driver’s uniform, he wore a fitted blue t-shirt and his jeans were more faded than hers were. His short, spiky brown hair looked a little more sun-kissed in the daylight, and the color of the shirt made his eyes bluer than gray, but the thing she liked best about him was the fact that he looked up at her with a brief smile and then kept on working instead of my Ladying her.
Sara watched him work for a few moments, admiring the zeal with which he polished the chrome bits, not many people she knew had the same work ethic she did in the world of half-assed jobs. “So,” she sauntered closer, “you’re the chauffeur…” she began, but he cut her off before she could add anything to the obvious statement.
“No, I’m not.”
Sara blinked at the contradiction. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought… You picked us up at the train last night.”
“Yes.”
“And drove us here.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re working on the car…”
“Apparently.”
“But you’re not the chauffeur?”
“Nope.” Switching cloths, he moved to the other side of the car.
“Of course,” she murmured, brows drawing together as she followed him.
“If I was the chauffeur, I’d have a shiny hat,” the corner of his mouth tugged up into a half smile.
“I see,” she returned the smile. He was cute, if a little too pleased with himself. “Alright, if you’re not the chauffeur, then what are you doing here?”
“I came to see if you need a ride into town,” he let the rag still, leaning against the side of the fancy car, giving her his full attention and she was the first one to look away.
“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“I’m a Jack of many trades, currently looking for one to ply you with, my Lady. At present that means I’m to drive you around, but I’m not your chauffeur.”
Sara couldn’t help but wonder what other trades he could ply her with, and it took her a moment to respond, cheeks pinkening under his frank gaze. “Please, call me Sara.”
“I couldn’t do that, my Lady,” a shake of the head was given and a pucker appeared on her smooth brow.
�
�Why not?”
“Mrs. Poole would cut off my ears and serve them for tea,” he replied with just enough conviction she almost thought he might not be kidding.
“Mrs. Poole doesn’t have to know everything, does she?” she gave him a winsome smile.
“Don’t kid yourself, my Lady; Mrs. Poole knows everything that happens at Darling Park.”
Sara let out a long breath, leaning against the car beside him. “No offense, but I really wish people would drop the my Lady stuff, I’m just regular old Sara from Los Angeles.”
“Not to us you’re not,” he picked up one of her hands, holding it lightly between his. “You’re our shining star, a beacon against the darkness. Our savior and new hope.”
“Are you always like this?” she laughed over the ridiculous sentiment.
“Only when in the presence of great beauty, my Lady.”
He sure didn’t talk like a chauffeur, she had to agree. Somehow she didn’t think Mrs. Poole would approve of the conversation either, but she didn’t care. “It’s Sara, okay?” If anyone seemed likely to drop the title, she thought it might be him, but to her surprise, he shook his head.
“No, it’s not.”
“Huh?” she blinked.
“You’re not you anymore, don’t you see? The moment you came here, you became the Dowager Lady Darling.”
Sara didn’t like the sound of that title one bit. “Ugh, you make it sound like I’m eighty years old.”
“Age hasn’t anything to do with it; you must try to start thinking of yourself as an institution not a person.”
“That’s ridiculous, I’m still a person. I’m still plain old me, same as I was before I came here.”
“I find that hard to believe, my Lady.” The little half smile was back and her brows rose in puzzlement.
“What, that I haven’t changed?”
“That you’ve ever been plain.”
She realized he was still holding her hand, and she tugged it free, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. He was cute, but she so wasn’t in the market for even a fling, especially not in a close knit community. “I ah, I thought I’d steal one of the bikes I saw leaning against the kitchen door and ride into the village for a bit,” she said suddenly, not quite sure where the idea came from.
“It’s not stealing if you own everything visible to the naked eye, though, is it?”
“Not everything,” she grumbled, starting to think the class thing was going to get into the way of every decent conversation she’d have for the next twenty years.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather ride in comfort?” he patted the top of the Mercedes.
“No, I think the exercise will do me good after being cooped up for the past few days,” she shook her head. Maybe Jack and Joanie would want to come too, and then Mrs. Poole wouldn’t have to get so worried about them getting hurt exploring the house.
“Seeing as how you’re not in need of my services, I’ll take myself off then, shall I?” he gave a brief nod, picking up his polishing cloths.
“I guess so,” she hesitated, “unless… I don’t suppose you’d like to play tour guide for the afternoon?” Apart from following the road, she had no idea how to find the village. “I could pay you, of course; whatever you were going to earn for playing at chauffeuring.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lady. I’d be happy to oblige, just give me half a tick to wash up,” he grinned.
“Only if you call me Sara,” she returned stubbornly. “It’s Will, isn’t it? When it’s just the two of us, I mean. That’d be alright, wouldn’t it?”
“Too right,” he nodded. “I’m honored that your Ladyship remembered my name,” Will smirked, but then stepped closer, his smile softening. “I’d like nothing better, Sara, than to spend the afternoon showing you my corner of the world.”
Sara’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin; that sounded a whole lot more fun than checking out the local village… “Great,” she nodded, stomach tightening when she realized she might be in over her head. “I’ll go get my friend, Joanie and see if Jack wants to come too.”
Something that might have been disappointment passed over his features, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the neutral smile. “By all means, bring them along. Though I recommend the car if young Jack’s to come. We haven’t got a bicycle of his size here at the house.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” The roads were too bumpy for Jack to ride on the handlebars and she didn’t have a helmet for him; not the best example to set. “Well then, I guess you’ll have to pinch hit as a chauffeur after all,” she smiled, pushing away from the car. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, I’m sure they’re as eager to explore the village as I am.”
“And I’ll be waiting,” Will nodded, his eyes following her inside.
*
The village of Darlington was everything she’d pictured in a remote, English community. A jumble of picturesque shops and pubs all squashed on top of each other along the main road, with cottages dappled across the rolling countryside. The narrow roads made for hair raising maneuvering whenever another car came alongside of them, but Will managed them like an old pro, chauffeur or not.
“If you don’t mind a bit of a stroll, I thought we’d leave the car here and see the sights properly,” Will asked over his shoulder after he’d stopped in a car park a block away from the main thoroughfare.
“This is fine, I wanted to get out and really see it, not just from the car,” Sara nodded, and Jack already had his seatbelt off, eager to expend some of the boundless energy contained by small boys.
“How far is it to the nearest Golden Arches in case I get a Big Mac attack?” Joanie asked, stepping out into the gravel lot.
“You’re looking at a forty-five minute drive at least, Miss, unless the weather gives you a spot of trouble,” Will replied, not bothering to lock the car. “Now then, where should we get started first? Do you fancy a bit of antiquing, or… would you like to try the finest chocolatier in all of Dorset?” he grinned at Jack in particular who hopped up and down with excitement.
“Chocolatier!” he crowed.
“We haven’t had lunch yet,” Sara gave Will a pointed look, turning to Joanie for support, but she was on her own.
“Hey, don’t look at me, I’d rather hit the candy shack over an antique shop any day of the week,” she snorted.
“Alright, but keep the sampling to a minimum until after you’ve had more to eat than a mouthful of bacon,” Sara sighed, giving up in the face of his enthusiasm.
“Sorry, my Lady, but I thought it would interest the boy,” Will offered an unrepentant smile as he fell into step beside her. “You could hardly have expected him to be interested in a tour of the china shop.”
“Yes, but now I won’t be able to take him into the china shop after he’s all hopped up on chocolate,” she returned with a wry grin. “I thought you were going to call me Sara.”
“Only when we’re alone,” he reminded her gently. “I’d be very happy to keep him company while you’re busy browsing. I admit, I’ve never been much for shopping myself.”
“No interest in antiques?”
“Plenty of interest, a little short on funds for the nonessentials of life,” he admitted and Sara exchanged a knowing smile with him.
“Ah, I’ve definitely been there,” she admitted. “I appreciate the offer then, I’m sure Jack would be more than happy to have a local expert, but I warn you, he’s eight; that means he’s made of questions.”
“I remember the age well, my Lady. I assure you, I’m up to the challenge.” With a wink, Will left her side to keep pace with Jack, easily engaging him in conversation.
“When did you become best friends with the chauffeur?” Joanie asked as soon as she caught up, having a little trouble with her heels on the cobblestones.
“He’s not the chauffeur,” Sara smiled, her eyes on Will’s back, watching Jack laugh at something he’d said.
“Okay, Mr. McHottie
then?”
“We had a conversation outside before I came to get you, that’s all.”
“You seem pretty chummy after one conversation, I didn’t think you normally worked that fast. He is pretty hot for a Brit though, I’ll give you that.”
“Joanie!”
“What?”
“What a thing to say!” Sara breathed, looking around to see if anyone was in listening distance. The street was pretty sleepy, only a few pedestrians out, but everyone seemed to be watching them with undisguised interest.
“I’m just saying, he’s got all his teeth, and he’s not all pasty pale, that’s a good start.”
“People might hear you,” Sara hissed, wondering for the zillionth time why that never occurred to her best friend.
“So what? They’re going to judge me for being an American anyway, why not give them something interesting to talk about?” she grinned. “So, what else does he do for you?” Joanie linked her arm through hers when Sara stared back at her blankly.
“Huh?”
“He works for you, right? What else does he do?” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively until Sara laughed.
“Ugh, you’re sick, you know that?” Joanie’s unflappable sense of humor was part of the reason they’d been friends for so long. Sara was willing to overlook the cynical touches that crept in more often than not, especially because she knew that at her core, Joanie wasn’t petty or spiteful, just… colorful.
“Hey, I just want to know where I can get one. Ooh, that’s a great idea. Instead of getting me a lady’s maid like you got, do you think you could get me my own manservant? Or more like a cabana boy? He could fan me with palm fronds and offer me peeled grapes and stuff.”
“We’re in England, not the West Indies,” Sara rolled her eyes. “I should get you a nanny instead.”
“On second thought, I’ll take a lady’s maid, only one that isn’t afraid of her own shadow like yours.”
“You have to be a lady before I can get you a lady’s maid,” Sara teased and Joanie took it in stride.
“Touché.”
