Emily nodded, excitement beginning to bubble up inside her. “Yes, and the French windows in the sunroom would be perfect, providing greater access.” She glanced at the large fireplace. “We could keep this.”
“Oh indeed,” Mr. Tremmond commented. “That would mean four bedrooms on the upper floors, including the attic room, one on the ground floor, and possibly the converted garage. Five or six bedrooms seems a good number for such an establishment. What about bathrooms?”
Emily counted off on her fingers. “The master bedroom would need an en suite, as would the attic room and the one down here. Maybe two rooms could share a bathroom, but have their own toilet? I don’t really know if that’s viable. We’d need to consult a plumber.” But the more she thought about it, the more she could see how it might look.
“Thank goodness it’s not a listed building,” Mr. Tremmond observed. “Then we really would have problems.” He gazed at his surroundings. “But I have to agree with Frances. It would be a sound venture. There is limited accommodation in the village for tourists. Serena Marwood’s B&B, the Vale offers a few rooms, but beyond that….” He frowned. “Although I am led to believe that a few people in the village now offer rooms in their homes, or in some cases the entire house, as part of a scheme called Air bnb?”
Emily smiled. “Goodness me. Air bnb comes to Fairdown. Whatever next?” She glanced at Fran. “And you still feel there’s a demand for more accommodation?”
Fran nodded. “We get more and more tourists coming through with each passing year. The new vineyard on the other side of the village is offering tours, plus there’s the toy museum, and of course, the coaches that pull in, so their passengers can come and walk around a quaint little English village. And I don’t think for a minute that it will stop there. Let’s face it, people staying here means more business for the village. You’d just be ahead of the game, that’s all.” She smiled. “Come on. Let’s look at the rest of the house and see what else you could do with it.” She cocked her head. “You still like the idea?”
“Yes. It has definite possibilities.”
Mr. Tremmond cleared his throat. “There is something neither of you appear to have considered.”
Emily gazed at him with interest. “Really?”
He nodded. “If you utilize all the available space here for guests, where will you live?”
“Me?” For a moment she didn’t understand what he was talking about. “Oh.”
“Well, you can’t live in London and run a B&B here,” Fran pointed out. “Surely you’d want to live here too.”
She hadn’t thought about it up until that moment. “But… I have the apartment….”
Fran sighed. “Here we go again. You could sell that, or rent it out. Either way, it would be another source of income. You’ve already got enough capital from the sale of the company to use for the renovations. So, either you keep part of the house private and live there, or you find alternative accommodation in the village, but you can’t stay in London.” She peered intently at Emily. “And would you really want to? When you could live here?” Her smile was warm. “Change of pace, remember?”
Emily couldn’t think about that now. There was still so much to be done before they reached that point. “I’ll think about it,” she conceded. “But we’re probably talking at least February, if not March, before I’ll be able to proceed with any plans, so I have plenty of time to decide. Christmas is next on the agenda, and then a long holiday. Then I’ll start to make plans.” She smiled at them. “In the meantime, Fran’s right. Let’s take a good look around, and see what will need to be tackled first. Because I’m pretty sure the most important things on the list will be the wiring and the plumbing. Not to mention making sure the fabric of the building is sound.”
She knew that getting such a business up and running was going to take a lot of time. Heaven knew when she’d be in a position to open for business. That would depend on the speed of the tradesmen brought in, and she intended to bring in the best.
Nothing else would do to help bring Jane and Clare’s dream to life.
Chapter Ten
Emily took one last glance in the full-length mirror. Dressed for dinner. It was the part of the day she hated most. Cocktails in the library with the family before dinner, only that wasn’t really what was going on, and everyone knew it. Emily would have called it Interrogation, because that was surely how it felt. She’d only arrived at the house an hour previously, and such lateness would normally have caused a wrinkle or two on her mother’s brow, if not for the amount of Botox she had injected there on a regular basis. Botox? For God’s sake. There were times when Emily took a good, hard look at herself, marveling that she shared some of their genes, because she was certainly nothing like anyone in her family.
There was no use putting it off any longer. Time to go downstairs and greet everyone. At least the alcohol might act as a buffer—that is, if she could risk her mother’s sharp glances at having more than two drinks. Emily could almost hear her voice: One simply does not have three cocktails prior to dinner. The thought caused her to smile wryly.
They do if they have to suffer my family.
One more look at her dark blue dress, simple yet elegant, assured her no fault would be found with her attire: travel irons were a wonderful invention. Emily left her room and stepped out onto the thick rugs that covered the heavily varnished floorboards of the landing that led to the sculpted staircase. It always felt like she was on the set of Downton Abbey: the house wasn’t on the same scale, of course, but to her, the family pile felt ostentatious. She had forgotten how the property had originally come to be in the family—most of it was built in the seventeenth century, with its facade added in the eighteen hundreds—but it was important enough to receive members of the general public, usually during the summer when the gardens were at their best.
Emily descended the dark wooden stairs, the sound of music already drifting from the library. She had to admit, that particular room was her favorite. The warm terracotta-colored walls, almost entirely hidden by bookcases, and the three couches covered in cushions, gave the library a cozy feel. As she crossed the threshold, she caught the tail end of a conversation between her brother and her parents, and it was enough to make her stiffen. They were discussing Jane, and the tone was not complimentary.
Emily cleared her throat. “Please tell me there’s a martini with my name on it.” She forced a smile, although inside she was bristling with anger.
Her father glanced across and smiled. “Oh, I dare say we can rustle up one of those.” He went over to the cabinet and began pouring vodka into a cocktail shaker.
“Darling.” Her mother proffered a cheek to be kissed. “We were just discussing the house, and what your plans might be for it.”
Emily pressed her lips to her mother’s cheek, before regarding her brother Richard, her eyebrows arched. “Why, Richard, have you got a job in the real estate business?” She already knew the answer to that one. Richard’s wife, Deborah, came from one of the richest families in the county, so he had no need to work. One glance told her their two children were not present, doubtless in adherence to their mother’s preference that children should neither be seen nor heard.
Nothing changes. That was how Emily had found herself staying with Jane during the summer months, after all. It had got her out from under her mother’s feet when Richard had been a baby.
Richard snorted. “I was just wondering what you’re going to do with it, that was all. I mean, I can’t imagine you’d want to live in it.”
“Why ever not?” Emily was genuinely puzzled.
Richard widened his eyes. “Do you have to ask? You’d really prefer living there, when you have London?”
“Exactly what I was about to say.” Deborah gazed at her from her position on the couch, a glass in her hand. “London has everything, whereas Fairdown? There’s no comparison, from what I’ve heard.”
“Ah, I was forgetting. London, centre of
the known universe.” Emily took the glass her father handed her. “Thank you. And as for the house, I do have plans for it, thank you for asking. It’s going to be a new business venture.”
Mother’s eyes gleamed. “Really? How interesting. Well, if you need capital, we would be more than happy to assist, wouldn’t we, Andrew?” Her father nodded. “Of course, that would be on condition that we would have shares in the new business, whatever that might be.”
Emily’s stomach clenched. “That’s very kind of you,” she said quietly, “but I have more than enough capital, now that the design company is no longer mine.”
Mother pursed her lips. “I would have thought you would want our help. I mean to say, look how our involvement played a role in the success of your first company.”
She stilled. “Excuse me?” Emily didn’t believe she was hearing this. “How exactly did you play a role?”
“We told all our friends about it, of course. Word of mouth and personal recommendation are powerful tools, darling, sometimes much more effective that mere marketing.”
Emily took a moment to breathe deeply, forcing down the cold anger that was rushing to the surface. “So, it’s your belief that my company’s success was based on you spreading word about it, is that it? Nothing to do with my hard work, my efforts, the countless recommendations of people who were happy with my services—and may I add at this point that not once did a client tell me, ‘Oh, by the way, I came to you because your parents recommended you.’” The company had been her baby, her dream.
Mother gazed at her in silence for a moment before sighing. “You remind me of Jane, do you know that? She always wanted to go her own way too, despite my advice.”
“What do you mean?” Emily took a long drink from her martini glass. She had a feeling she was going to need several more before the evening was over.
“When she came to me all those years ago, and told me she wanted to leave Derek.” Her mother shrugged. “I told her to stay with him.”
“Why would you advise her to stay in a marriage where she was plainly unhappy?” Emily was dumbfounded. Jane had never once mentioned this.
Mother wrinkled her nose. “Sweetheart, leaving your husband and child because you think you’re a—” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Lesbian. I mean, really?”
Emily met her mother’s cool gaze. “You can say the word out loud, you know. And another thing. Phillip was eighteen when Jane left, and about to go off to university. Hardly a child, I’d say. And judging by what I learned over the years, this wasn’t a sudden change of heart. She’d always felt that way, but coming out wasn’t the done thing. Apparently, it was more acceptable to marry someone you didn’t love, for the sake of appearances.” She tilted her head to one side. “Answer something for me, please. Did Jane choose Derek, or was he chosen for her?” She knew her parents had introduced Richard to Deborah, and that Richard had been only too happy to have a rich wife.
God, Richard is nothing like me.
Mother stiffened. “My parents introduced her to Derek, if that is what you’re asking, but it was her decision to marry him. And if she’d wanted to marry someone else, they wouldn’t have stood in her way.” Father coughed, and she glanced across at him. “You think differently?”
“I think,” her father began, his tone careful, “that you’re being awfully selective with your memory. Because I vividly remember your parents’ reaction when you first brought me to meet them.” He met Emily’s gaze, his eyes twinkling. “I got the feeling I was not what they wanted for their youngest daughter. In fact, I’m certain of it. They had someone already lined up, but your mother wasn’t interested.”
“Seriously?” This was a part of family history Emily had never encountered.
Her father nodded, a hint of a smile playing about his lips. “He was some chinless wonder, in the military if I remember correctly, and maybe fiftieth in line for the throne. Whereas I was just the eldest son of a local influential family, fresh from university, who caught your mother’s eye at a ball held here.”
Emily gaped at her mother. “You could have married someone who was linked to the Royal Family, and yet you went and married my father?” She couldn’t resist. “A local bit of rough?” For the first time, she saw her mother with new eyes. She married for love. Well, what do you know about that?
Mother glared at Emily’s father. “Chinless wonder?” Her lips twitched, however.
Father laughed. “Oh, come on. Rodney was no oil painting. And he bored you to tears. Don’t deny it, because you told me that yourself. Besides, you’d have walked all over him, and I wouldn’t let you do that.” His gaze alighted on Emily’s empty glass. “Want another?”
It was turning out to be an evening of surprises.
She held out her glass, grinning. “Yes, please.”
Her mother watched them, shaking her head. “And I would hardly describe your father as a ‘local bit of rough’.” She focused her attention on Emily. “You haven’t told us yet what you plan to do with the house.”
Emily knew it was a mistake before she opened her mouth, but by this point she didn’t care. She took a second martini, sat on an empty couch, and outlined her ideas.
There was stunned silent for a moment, broken by Richard’s explosive laughter. “Oh my God. You’re serious.”
She ignored him and observed her parents’ reaction. Her mother stared at her. “A… guest house?”
Emily sighed. “This is why I don’t need your help. One, I have plenty of capital, and two, I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
Mother joined her on the couch. “Darling, you do insist on doing the strangest things. Look at your university fees, for example, and when you set up the business. We were more than happy to pay for your studies, and give you money for the business, and yet what did you do? You approached companies and enterprises to get your financial backing. And once the company was in the black, you paid us back all your fees. You didn’t have to do that. What is wrong with parents providing their child with funds?”
Emily put down her glass and twisted on the couch to face her mother. “When I was at university, there were students whose parents had worked hard to pay for them to get an education.” She took her mother’s hands in hers. “These hands have never known work, because you’ve never needed to. Everything was handed to you on a plate. You’ve never had to find money to buy a house, or fund a venture, because the money has always been there. But I’ve never wanted to live like that. I never wanted to rely on the family’s money. I wanted to be an independent woman, self-reliant, strong, capable… and by doing things my way, I feel I’ve achieved that. I’m beholden to no one but myself. My original investors were paid back. I paid for my own education, because that was what I wanted, and I know you’ve always found that difficult to comprehend.” Emily paused to take a breath. “This was Jane’s dream, one she and Clare never got the chance to realize, and I want to do this for them. Yes, it will be my business, but it will be theirs too. I’d like to think they’re both watching me now, rooting for me, cheering me on.” Because that was how she saw them in her head.
Mother swallowed. “There is so much of Jane in you. You’re as stubborn as she was, that’s certain.” Her father chuckled, and with that, the atmosphere in the room lightened. Mother curled her fingers around Emily’s. “You’re correct, of course. I don’t understand you, and perhaps I never will, but I do know one thing. Whatever you do, I will always be proud of you.” She paused, her eyes shining. “The only thing that would make me happier would be you settling down, starting a family of your own.”
Emily bit her lip. “I’m thirty-six, and despite the recent trend in women having children later in life, I am not about to be having them in my forties. So unless I meet someone in the very near future, I think you might have to make do with the grandchildren you already have. And that was not an invitation for you to begin going through some list of eligible men, intent on finding me a husband. In that respe
ct, I shall follow my mother’s example, and find my own man.” She smiled. “And this is the last time we shall be having this particular conversation while I’m here, is that understood? I’d like to relax and enjoy Christmas.” For the first time, such a thing seemed possible.
Mother nodded. “I’d like that too.”
Her father leaned over and kissed Emily’s head. “You are all those things you wanted to be, and more, you know. I am never afraid of what the future might have in store for you, because I know you will tackle it head-on.” He straightened and smiled. “And while we’re on the subject, your aunt Jane wasn’t the only stubborn one.” He glanced at Mother. “It seems to be a family trait.”
Mother’s face flushed. “I’m sure I have no idea to what you are referring.” Across the room, Richard chuckled, while Deborah kept her features straight.
Father rubbed his hands together. “I for one am getting hungry. Shall we go in to dinner?”
His suggestion was met with appreciative noises from the others. Emily got to her feet and picked up her glass. “I’ll take this in with me. Not about to let a good martini go to waste.” She followed her parents into the wood-paneled dining room, with its family crests around the room at ceiling level, the walls covered with large portraits in ornate gold frames, depicting various ancestors. It was a room steeped in history.
Emily didn’t think for a minute that her own story would be as rich and varied as the tales that could be told about past generations, but she knew it would be all hers, and she looked forward to creating more of it.
Pulled by a Dream Page 9
