Jumping in Puddles

by Barbara Elsborg

  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 ne
ws. 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.

  “She’s a thief?” Jago whispered.

  Henry shook his head. “Why go to all this trouble?”

  “A subterfuge to scout out anything of value?” He tensed. “I showed her all the things I’ve repurchased and everything I’ve stored. She made a comment about an alarm system, and I told her I didn’t have one. Maybe tomorrow is a diversion and she has accomplices coming here to help themselves. Oh fuck. I like her.” He stared into Henry’s eyes. “I really like her.”

  “So do I. We could be wrong. There could be any number of reasons to explain this. Don’t go jumping in half-cocked—ah…”

  Jago glared. “No, I haven’t slept with her.”

  “But you want to?”

  “I don’t know what I want anymore. Don’t say anything to her. Let me think about this.”

  Henry nodded over his shoulder. “Here she comes.”

  Jago turned to see Ellie hurrying toward them clutching a folder. She was wearing a pale green floaty skirt, a lacy bright yellow top, and she looked like a flower. Despite all his misgivings, every inch of him was aware of her, and the way he felt scared the crap out of him. Oh God, I want to fuck her. And I don’t want to ask her questions she can’t answer.

  “Hi, you two. Check this out.” She took a sheet of paper from the folder and gave it to Henry.

  Jago looked over his shoulder. She’d made a map of Sharwood, but it was far more than that. A detailed drawing with each section completed in beautiful pastel colors: the trees in the orchard, vegetables, roses, herbs, lawns, the wilderness garden, and in the middle, Sharwood itself gazing over the ornate Italian garden. She’d numbered the different elements and put an index at the bottom left-hand side. It was a work of art, and Jago’s worries slid away. Anyone who could take this much trouble wasn’t out to rob him. That kiss wasn’t the kiss of someone who wanted to cheat him. There had to be a logical explanation.

  And yet, he could think of none, and he was a very logical guy. She was up to something. He’d find out what, and he suspected he wasn’t going to like it.

  “You drew that weed in the wrong place,” Henry said, and she laughed. “Ellie, this is fantastic. Isn’t it, Jago?”

  He couldn’t risk opening his mouth. Henry glared at him.

  “I don’t think I missed anything. I had a wander round today, so I’m pretty sure I have it right, but you need to check. I don’t want to lead visitors into the alligator-infested swamp or velociraptor territory.”

  “Did you find an entertainer?” Henry asked.

  “A clown who makes animals out of balloons. He’s coming at twelve. He wants fifty pounds, but I figured we wouldn’t get anyone cheaper, not at this late stage. We need to buy the strawberries too.”

  “Why don’t you go with Ellie tomorrow afternoon and pick them,” Henry said pointedly. “Take the Land Rover.”

  Jago nodded.

  “Diane’s invited me for dinner tonight, so you’ll have to fend for yourselves,” Henry said. “Jago will cook for you up at the hall. Look at your mother’s jewelry and ask Ellie what she thinks.”

  For once, Jago didn’t like the way her eyes lit up.

  “Will you show me the baron’s hall as well? That’s the only room I’ve not seen.”

  “Seven,” he snapped, started to walk away, and then turned back. “Was it you who finished painting the blue bedroom?”

  “Me and your lodgers. It’s okay, isn’t it?”

  He harrumphed in response and stalked off. It was impossible for her to have finished that room on her own. Did she have an accomplice? Was she really a thief? He walked back up to the hall wondering how he was going to create a meal out of one egg, half a basket of four-day-old mushrooms, and a red pepper.

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Jago. Ellie understood he might not want to show affection in front of Henry or anyone else come to that, but there had been a cold remoteness about him that made her uneasy.

  “Is Jago okay?” she asked Henry.

  “Overwhelmed and therefore grouchy. How many copies of this do you think we need?”

  “Five hundred? If we don’t use them all, they’ll keep. I did this too.” She handed him another sheet from the folder.

  It was a map intended for children. She’d called the main path of the Italian garden “Dragons’ Walk” and put little notes such as find the herb with the funniest name and count the hollyhocks and win a prize.

  “How many hollyhocks are there?” Henry asked.

  “I’m not telling you. Adults have to pay to guess.”

  As he laughed, Diane came to his side, and he held the sheets out to show her. “Look at these.”

  “Wow, they’re fantastic, Ellie. You are clever. Look, Henry, she’s drawn you and James and Gavin.”

  “So she has.” He laughed. “We’re dragon hunters?”

  “That’s to encourage the kids not to walk where they’re not supposed to and not pick the flowers.”

  “Do you want me to copy them?” Diane asked. “The WI has a good printer, and I just so happen to have it in my house.” She nudged Henry. “You can do the copying while I cook.”

  Ellie smiled as they walked away together. She hadn’t thought communities like this really existed, that they were the figment of a TV writer’s imagination, except not those villages where there was at least one murder a week. She’d lived in London all her life, and everyone seemed to keep to themselves. But then maybe that was because her parents made little effort to mix. In believing they didn’t fit in, they made their children believe it too. Though it didn’t help that they moved on a regular basis because they aged slower than humans.

  Ellie felt more human than faerie.

  Most of the time.

  She wandered over to the summerhouse and sat inside. Leaning back against the wood, she closed her eyes and tried to run through everything that needed to happen to make Saturday a success. The only thing she couldn’t control was the weather, despite her assurance to Henry that it wouldn’t rain. But the forecast looked good, and the marquee would give shelter. Though when the gardens opened for normal visits, there’d be nowhere for people to get a cup of tea. How easy was it to set up a little café? The stable block seemed the perfect place. Maybe Diane would be interested in helping.

  Ellie smoothed down her skirt, and when she felt the outline of the ring in her pocket, she swallowed hard. Best not forget why I’m here.

  * * * *

  Jago raided the garden for three different types of lettuce and picked a bowl of tayberries, a sort of long raspberry. Back in the kitchen, he washed the lettuce and finely chopped the pepper and mushrooms to make a salad. Half a pack of dried cranberries lurked at the back of his cupboard, and he threw those in too. After he’d boiled and chopped up the egg and added that, the salad looked great, but he really did need something to go with it.

  Rachel and Baxter came in with bags of groceries, and Jago swallowed his groan of jealousy.

  “That looks good.” Rachel nodded toward the salad bowl. “All for you?”

  “I’m feeding Ellie.”

  “What are you having with it?” Baxter asked.

  “Tin of tuna.” Except he didn’t have a tin of tuna, but he’d seen one on Baxter’s shelf.

  He tried not to look at the things they were unloading onto the table: cheese, steak, pizza, bread, beer, and wine.

  “Would you like these?” Rachel offered him a pack of two salmon fillets topped with herb butter. “It was buy one get one free.”

  “Really? Thank you.”

  “Have half of this baguette as well. I won’t be able to eat all of it, and it doesn’t keep.”

  Baxter sighed and put a bottle of white wine in front of him. “We should have been helping out more. Sorry. I don’t think any of us realized what a ma
mmoth job this is. We received Denzel’s invitation. You’re going to have your work cut out getting this place ready.”

  He didn’t need reminding.

  Rachel picked up the bottle and put it in the fridge. “Needs to be chilled. Where are you going to eat?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  She looked out of the window. “It’s a lovely evening. Why don’t you sit outside? If you wipe down the chairs and the table on the little patio, it’ll be romantic.”

  Did he want it to be romantic?

  Yes, yelled his cock. Ellie had told him to keep an open mind. He had no proof she was up to no good. Everything she’d done so far had been little short of miraculous. Give her the benefit of the doubt.

  He went outside with a wet cloth and cleaned the chairs and table. He set it with matching plates and cutlery. Baxter lent him two wineglasses, and Jago found several tea lights in a drawer. That weird feeling in his belly had to be excitement. For the first time in a long while, he had something to look forward to.

  * * * *

  Jago was hacking at his hair with scissors when he heard the knock.

  Ellie stood there clutching a tiny purse. Her hair was down and flowed over her shoulders like spun gold. She wore a little black dress, and Jago’s cock began to inflate.

  “Are you cutting your hair?” she asked.

  Jago glanced at the scissors in his hand. “Trying to.”

  “Can I do it?”

  “Can you? Though I doubt you could make any worse job of it than me.”

  “Bring a comb and the scissors, and I’ll do it outside. There’ll be less mess.”

  “Want to take your dress off in case you get hair all over you?” he asked.

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “Nice try.”

  They went downstairs and out of the front door.

  “Maybe you better take off your shirt,” she said.

  Jago pulled it over his head and threw it over Denzel’s griffin. Ellie stood behind him on a higher step and stroked his hair. His cock swelled even more.

  Can’t you bloody wait?

  Don’t blame me. It’s your brain sending blood south.

  Jago closed his eyes as she started to cut. The feel of her fingers threading through his hair soothed him, as did the snip snap of the scissors, as if all his troubles were being cut away.