Violet sighed. ‘They have their own lives to lead. Why would they want to spend half a day on a plane to visit an old woman in England? I don’t blame them and I don’t make a fuss about it. That’s the way life is. I was the same at their age: busy with me and mine, and that’s the way it should be. But I could do with some company now and again,’ Violet confessed. ‘One of those old-fashioned companions,’ she added with a little laugh. ‘To read to me.’
Carys looked across at her and then noticed all the books in the room as if for the first time. ‘You like reading?’
‘Used to,’ she said. ‘Can’t read a blessed thing now.’
Carys frowned and then an idea occurred. ‘I could read to you.’
Violet looked across the room in surprise. ‘You? Read to me?’
‘Why not? It would be my pleasure.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, I couldn’t afford to pay you and I’m sure you’re far too busy already.’
Carys’s mouth dropped. ‘I don’t expect payment. Oh, Aunt Violet, it would be a pleasure to read to you.’
‘Well,’ the old lady said, ‘I’m not sure what to say.’
‘How about yes?’
Violet’s mouth turned up into a cute smile and her cheeks glowed cherry-red with excitement.
‘We could start now,’ Carys said, leaping up from her chair in excitement. ‘You have so many books to discover, right here.’
‘Oh, no! These are all so old and dull. They have even less life in them than I do.’
‘Well, what if I raid the library at Amberley?’
Violet shook her head. ‘Dull, dull, dull. You really wouldn’t want to read The Complete Works of William Bretton, would you?’
Carys laughed. She’d seen the self-published collection of novels in the fading covers and had dared to peep inside only to find page after page of self-pitying prose.
‘Or,’ Violet continued, ‘The Keen Discoveries of-’
‘a Reluctant Duke,’ Carys finished and they both erupted with laughter. ‘Yes, I found that one.’
‘I dare say it didn’t appeal.’
‘Not really bedtime reading.’
‘No, the ninth duke was something else entirely.’
‘Then I should raid the local library?’
Violet nodded. ‘Good idea.’
‘What sort of books do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?’
‘Fiction,’ she said without a moment’s hesitation.
‘Me too. Any particular genre?’
‘Romance.’
‘Me too,’ Carys said.
‘I think we’re going to have a lot of fun,’ Violet said, her cheeks still glowing in anticipation of a very merry future indeed.
‘There’s just one thing,’ Carys said.
‘What’s that, my dear?’
‘I’ve been asked to return this to you.’ Carys dug in her pocket for the cheque and handed it to Violet.
‘Oh, my gracious.’
Carys watched as her expression of merriment was replaced by one of consternation. ‘There’s no need, really.’
‘No need? What absolute rot. Don’t forget, I was brought up a Bretton. I know what it’s like. It’s all very well living in a sprawling mansion but there’s never enough money in the kitty.’
‘But you must look after your own needs.’
‘I’ve got enough, don’t you worry.’
Carys didn’t say anything but she saw a definite twinkle in the old lady’s eyes which seemed to hint of hidden secrets.
After tea which was served in huge mugs with ARS printed across them which Violet explained stood for Amberley Rural Show until somebody commented on the unfortunate acronym and it was changed to ACS: Amberley Country Show, Carys left, kissing the powdery red cheek of Aunt Violet.
‘I’ll come and see you soon,’ she said, ‘with some books.’
‘Romance. Nothing but romance will do at my age,’ Aunt Vi said.
‘I’ll see what I can find.’
‘And, Carys,’ she said, her eyes suddenly filled with concern.
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t let everyone at the big house get you down, will you? You’re too sweet for that.’
Carys nodded and gave a weak smile. They hadn’t talked about Amberley at all. So how had Violet known?
Mrs Franklin was working her way through a pile of correspondence when Carys returned to her office.
‘Mr Morris called, your grace, wondering if you got his letter about the Montella exhibition.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Franklin, I’ll call him back later.’
Mr Morris was the curator of Carminster’s Castle Museum - a grand Victorian Gothic building housing one of the best art collections in the country. They were arranging an exhibition on Leo Montella and, naturally, were interested in featuring some of Amberley’s paintings. This was one of the many new responsibilities which now fell to Carys. She had to check everything with Richard first, of course. She couldn’t just decide to ship his family portraits out all over the country whenever somebody requested, and there were all manners of thing to arrange from safe removal to transportation and insurance.
‘And Mrs Travis wanted to know if you’d be around for lunch.’
Carys looked at the clock. It was after midday already.
‘I’ll grab a sandwich a bit later,’ she said. She had something she felt she must tackle first. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until it was done. ‘I’m just popping out to Cuthland House,’ she told Mrs Franklin. ‘I won’t be long.’
Carys opened the drawer of her desk and removed the diary.
There was only one dog hanging around the house and that was Mungo, the black Labrador.
‘Come on, boy,’ Carys said, opening the door into a bright garden, the early afternoon sun burning out of a brilliant blue sky. With her pale colouring and her face’s tendency to give way to freckles, she really should’ve worn a hat but her mind was fixed on getting out as quickly as possible.
Heading out across the fields, she slowed her pace to accommodate the leisurely tread of Mungo who didn’t even want to break into a trot. She didn’t blame him; it was so hot. Carys tried fanning herself with the diary but it was too big and cumbersome to afford any relief. Instantly, a wave of temptation overcome her.
No. She shouldn’t.
Apart from those first few pages when she’d first discovered it, she’d managed to resist but, away from the house with no eyes to watch her, she felt an irresistible urge to delve into the cream pages. She bit her lip. What harm could it do? She sat down on a patch of sun-warmed grass and read.
October 1979
I am becoming more and more convinced that these houses aren’t family homes. I actually lost Richie yesterday! What a horrible feeling that was. Phoebe and I searched for hours. I was so worried he’d got up to some mischief in the attics and we’d never be able to find him. Phoebe was convinced that the ghost had got him. I must tell the staff not to encourage her with such nonsense as ghosts. The only thing that haunts Amberley is the perpetual cold.
Carys grinned in instant recognition. It didn’t say where they found Richard or when for that matter which was rather a shame so she flipped some pages and read another entry.
April 1981
Came downstairs this morning to find nanny in an awful state. ‘It’s Lady Phoebe!’ she kept shouting and I didn’t find out what the fuss was about until I went through to the hallway and saw Phoebe sitting, in full riding regalia, on her pony, Minstrel. She looked quite unapologetic and demanded to know why dogs were allowed into the house but not ponies. ‘He’s wiped his hooves,’ she said. I didn’t really have a suitable answer to that.
Carys flicked through the pages, pausing to read a few more entries before turning to the final page.
December 1984
I can’t believe this is the last page already. So much has happened since I began this diary over seven years ago. I haven’t been a very good diaris
t. Sometimes, many months can pass without a single entry. I have three children now: my handsome sons and my beautiful daughter, and I have the feeling I may be expecting again.
I feel a little more contented here now than I was when I first moved in. It’s taken all this time for me to think of Amberley as a home. It has its faults: I will never get used to having the public walking around the house, and I’m still not a huge fan of Chippendale, but I’m learning to live with Amberley’s quirks.
Carys closed the book and got up from the rock-hard ground, rubbing her numbed bottom. Her limbs would probably be red-raw from the sun now and she was beginning to feel a little dehydrated. She hadn’t meant to read so much but, as soon as she’d opened the diary, time had been swallowed up as curiosity had taken over. She could have read for hours, dipping in and out of the years like a nosy yo-yo, but time had marched on and she had to be on her way.
She slowed her pace as she approached the large Victorian house. Mungo edged up beside her and looked up expectantly. She could see that an upstairs window was open and a pretty flutter of curtain was trying to escape. Francesca, Carys thought, must be in.
She knocked on the door and waited.
And waited.
And knocked again.
‘Francesca?’ she called. Mungo gazed up at the house, his tail wagging in mild excitement before he lost interest and went to nose around the plants in the garden.
‘It’s Carys. Are you there?’
Carys stepped back from the door and looked up at the windows before shrugging and sighing. Once again, she had the feeling that the house wasn’t empty. She also had the feeling that Francesca wasn’t washing her hair or tied up in the kitchen. She didn’t want to see her, did she?
Stepping back into the tiny porch, Carys laid the book down on the slatted seat underneath a hanging basket. She hoped it would be safe there.
‘Come on, Mungo,’ she said, and he followed her out of the garden and back towards Amberley.
‘Long time, no see,’ a cheery voice greeted her as soon as she stepped into the hallway. It was Phoebe, closely followed by an ever-attentive Dizzy the spaniel.
‘Phoebe!’ Carys said, and they embraced. It felt an age since they’d had a chat - long before the old duke’s funeral. Phoebe had been a little distant since then, finding a job in the nearby town of Pennington Bridge and living quietly.
For a moment, Carys just smiled at her. ‘How are you?’ she asked, trying to banish the image of the dark-haired youngster in the hallway on her pony, Minstrel.
‘Okay,’ she said, her smile warm and genuine. ‘Moving on,’ she added.
Carys nodded. ‘It takes time,’ she said, realising, too late, that she’d used the very phrase that she hated to hear herself.
‘And how are you?’
Carys shrugged. ‘Fine.’
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sure? You look tired.’
Carys nodded. ‘A little.’
‘They’re treating you okay - everybody?’
‘Yes, fine.’
Phoebe didn’t look convinced. ‘Including Richard?’
Carys blinked. There was no hiding from Phoebe. She was a woman who couldn’t be fooled and she always managed to isolate a problem immediately.
‘To be honest, I don’t see much of him.’
Phoebe frowned. ‘I thought as much. Rotten man.’
‘No. No, he’s not.’
‘He jolly well is. He doesn’t deserve you. Expecting you to run his house for him all day every day whilst he goes off and-’
‘He’s got so much to cope with.’
Phoebe placed her tiny hands on her tiny hips. ‘When was the last time you two went out for a nice meal?’
Carys blinked even harder. ‘Well, he’s always so busy-’
‘When?’
Carys’s mind span back through the months since their wedding. They hadn’t, had they? They didn’t even have time for a proper sit-at-a-table meal alone together any more It was always grab-a-sandwich or else a stifling meal with local dignitaries in the State Dining Room where conversation was invariably mundane and impersonal.
‘Just before we got engaged,’ she said at last.
‘I thought as much. It’s not good enough.’
‘But, Phoebe-’
‘Stop making excuses for him. It’s outrageous!’
‘Not really-’
‘We need to discuss this,’ Phoebe continued. She was off now and there was no stopping her. ‘We need a meeting.’
‘I don’t really think-’
‘There’s only one thing to do at a time like this.’
For a moment, Carys was silent with wonder. ‘What?’
‘Get the YBG’s together, of course.’
Chapter 19
‘So, are you going to tell me what the YBG’s are?’ Carys asked. It was later that evening and she was sat in the Yellow Drawing Room with Phoebe and Serena who were looking at each other with sisterly intimacy. Phoebe had kicked off her shoes and was resting her feet on Dizzy who had rolled over to expose a fluffy white belly which demanded much rubbing, and Serena was curled up in a winged chair, her feet tucked under her bottom, making her look like a contented cat.
Finally, Serena nodded.
‘The Yew Bower Girls,’ Phoebe explained quietly.
Carys tried not to giggle. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘You’ve not been to the yew bower?’
Carys shook her head.
‘It’s a part of the wood above Amberley. It’s mostly beeches but there’s this spooky little corner of yew trees.’
‘Not spooky,’ Serena said, ‘magical.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Phoebe corrected. ‘I forgot. You used to practice all your spells up there.’
Serena gave Phoebe a glare which could easily have become the Medusa.
‘We used to hide out there as kids,’ Phoebe explained. ‘It’s very important to have a place to call your own when you’re a kid, even when growing up in a house the size of Amberley. It’s vital to have a little hideaway where nobody can find you.’
‘Away from the house,’ Serena added.
‘Most important,’ Phoebe stressed.
‘And one the boys could never find out about.’
‘And we only ever went there at dusk,’ Phoebe said.
Serena gave a little smile. ‘We used to sneak out and run across the lawn in our nightgowns.’
‘But it’s miles away,’ Carys pointed out.
‘That was all part of the fun,’ Phoebe said. ‘Cupboards and wardrobes were no good to us. Where’s the adventure in that? But a secluded part of the wood when evening is drawing in - now that’s exciting!’
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that,’ Carys confessed.
‘Town girl,’ Serena admonished.
‘I have just as much country running through my veins as you.’
‘Prove it then.’
‘Okay,’ Carys said. ‘We’ll go.’
‘Great.’ Phoebe clapped her hands.
‘We’ll have to tell Penny,’ Serena said.
‘Of course. We couldn’t go without Pen.’
‘Who’s Pen?’
‘A founder member of the YBG’s. We can’t think of holding a meeting without her,’ Phoebe said.
‘It would be unlucky. And Natasha too.’
‘Of course,’ Serena said.
‘Another founder member?’ Carys asked, becoming more and more intrigued by this secret society. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Anyone you’d like to invite?’ Phoebe asked.
Carys thought. Who could she think of who’d enjoy traipsing through the undergrowth at night?
‘Louise - my best-friend,’ Carys said at last, thinking she couldn’t possibly let her friend miss out on such an adventure.
‘She’ll have to be initiated,’ Serena pointed out.
‘So will Carys, but that won’t take long.’
‘Initiated?’ Again, Carys sounded a little unsure.
‘Initiation by Bailey’s,’ Phoebe explained. ‘Simply delightful.’
Carys smiled. ‘When do we go?’
After a few phone calls, they left the house when the sky’s burning apricot light was mellowing and fading. Carys had told Richard that she was going to meet Louise in the local pub and he’d simply nodded before tumbling onto the sofa with a glass of whisky.
Louise had parked down the driveway, away from the house, and had waited for Carys behind a big rhododendron bush.
‘This is rather fun,’ she giggled, nodding to Phoebe and Serena. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We’re meeting Pen and Nat by the stile,’ Phoebe said. ‘Less suspicious that way.’
Carys frowned. ‘Who are we hiding from?’
‘The men, of course,’ Serena said.
‘They mustn’t know.’
Carys decided that this must be some sort of hang-up from childhood and that they weren’t willing to reveal their secret hideaway even now.
‘They had their secret dens and so did we,’ Phoebe explained.
‘Do they still use theirs?’ Carys asked, trying to imagine Richard and Jamie sneaking off to some secluded spot on the estate.
Phoebe shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t put it passed them. Come on.’
They ran across the lawn like naughty school girls. Then, it was up the bank and into the beech trees and along to the stile where Penny and Natasha were. Penny was as tiny as a church mouse but had a huge smile. Natasha looked more serious, her dark eyebrows hovering over a pair of stern, inquisitive eyes.
Once over the stile, they slowed their pace to a fast walk.
‘What’s the hurry?’ Louise asked.
‘I think it’s the thought of a plastic cup of Bailey’s,’ Penny said. ‘If memory serves me correctly.’
‘It does,’ Phoebe called back.
‘So, Carys,’ Natasha began. ‘How are you enjoying life at Amberley?’
‘Gosh!’ Phoebe laughed. ‘Can’t you say anything without sounding like you’re interviewing someone?’
Three Graces Page 15
