‘Excuse me?’
‘We’ve all read the story,’ a young man explained rather bashfully.
Carys could feel herself blushing. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Listen, I’m rather embarrassed by all this.’
‘There’s no need to be,’ the little old lady said. ‘We’re all friends here, aren’t we?’
The group nodded their heads in unison.
‘Oh,’ Carys said. All of a sudden, she felt rather lost. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She could feel herself swaying slightly, as if she was about to faint.
‘Are you all right?’ the pink-hatted lady asked.
‘I feel a bit - light-headed.’
‘Here,’ a young lady of about nineteen pulled out one of the chairs from the table that was used at the weekly Amberley Enterprises meetings.
‘Thank you.’ Carys sat down and wasn’t at all surprised when the other chairs were pulled out and most of the tour group sat down with her. ‘Just give me a moment and we’ll continue with the tour.’
‘Hang the tour,’ the young lady said and Carys looked up in surprise. ‘You’ve got to sort this problem out first.’
Carys blinked hard. Had she heard correctly? She looked around the table at the faces that were watching her. This wasn’t what she’d expected from being a tour guide. She was meant to be cool and confident and, most importantly, in control. Yet she felt utterly powerless, as though Richard’s words had stripped her of every ounce of self-confidence.
‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ the young lady continued, ‘I wouldn’t let a man of mine speak to me the way your husband speaks to you.’
There was a general murmur of agreement from around the table.
‘She’s right, dear,’ the pink-hatted lady said. ‘It was completely uncalled for. Especially when you explained that it wasn’t your fault.’
For a moment, Carys bent her head and covered her face with her hands. They’d heard everything! She suddenly had an image of them all huddled up with their ears pressed against the door.
‘Shush! Listen.’
‘What’s she saying?’
‘Did you hear that?’
‘He didn’t really say that, did he?’
‘I - I wouldn’t treat you like that,’ a young man’s voice said. Carys looked up. He was sitting next to the young lady who’d pulled the chair out for her.
‘You’re such a sweetheart,’ the young lady said, ruffling his hair. Was it her brother?
‘It’s that Natasha Bryant’s fault,’ he continued, his big eyes shyly concerned.
‘She hasn’t helped,’ Carys whispered. ‘Oh, God! It’s all such a mess.’ Carys could feel her eyes vibrating with sudden tears. Where had they come from? She didn’t want to cry. She couldn’t cry. Not in front of a room full of strangers. She had to pull herself together. She was the Duchess of Cuthland, for goodness’ sake. Duchesses didn’t cry in public - they didn’t make a spectacle of themselves. They -
A wave of insecurity washed over Carys. Who was she fooling? She wasn’t a duchess. She was plain old Carys Miller from Stanton Street. Had she really thought she could just step into the role of duchess? Had she really been so stupid as to think she could pull it off?
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, attempting to stand up. She immediately felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the pink-hatted lady.
‘You’re going nowhere,’ she said.
Carys looked at the faces staring at her. She knew they all meant well but she was beginning to feel rather trapped by them. There was only one way to distract them: get up and continue the tour as if nothing had happened.
Carys pushed her chair backwards. ‘I think we’d better-’ she paused. That sounded far too hesitant. She needed to take control again, if only until the end of this tour. ‘Right, everyone,’ she said, ‘let’s continue.’
But nobody moved. Each and every face was looking at her with sympathy and understanding. They didn’t give a damn about the tour.
Carys bit her lip, willing herself not to be swept along by them. ‘I think you’ll find the next room very-’
‘Uninteresting,’ the young woman interrupted. ‘Really, don’t worry about the tour. We’ve all had a great time, haven’t we?’
Again, there was a collective sound of agreement from around the table.
‘We’ve seen some wonderful rooms-’
Carys shook her head. It had been an appalling tour. They hadn’t even witnessed Georgiana’s spooky door slamming routine yet.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Carys said, giving up at last.
‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ the pink-hatted lady said, giving Carys a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. It was such a well-meaning gesture, imparting strength and support but, sometimes, such gestures can have the opposite effect to that they intended, and Carys suddenly realised she was crying. She hadn’t meant to - really she hadn’t but, once she started, she couldn’t stop.
‘My dear girl,’ the pink-hatted lady said, thrusting a tissue at her.
‘I’m - s-so - s-sorry,’ Carys stumbled, blowing her nose loudly and dabbing her eyes, wondering if the little mascara she’d put on that morning had migrated south.
‘No need to apologise,’ the young woman said. ‘It would be much worse if you didn’t cry.’
Carys tried to work out how that could be possible. She’d been humiliated in the local press - again; humiliated by her husband, and now she was humiliating herself by crying.
‘Are you all right?’ the bashful young man asked.
Carys looked up and nodded. ‘Thank you, yes,’ she said. ‘I don’t quite know what happened there and I really do apologise. I’d be happy to refund the price of your tour.’
‘We’ll not hear of it,’ the pink-hatted lady said.
Carys bit her lip. She felt just awful that she’d let everybody down.
‘Then, how about a cup of tea and a slice of cake?’ Carys said, feeling a little brighter at her idea.
The group looked at each other and then smiled right back at her.
‘Good,’ Carys said, hoping that Mrs Travis would be amenable to her request. ‘I’ll go and arrange it. We’ll have it here.’
‘Oh,’ the pink-hatted lady said. ‘What a treat. Wait till I tell my friends.’
As long as that was all she told them, Carys thought, dreading it getting into the local press that she’d burst into tears on the ghost tour. Natasha Bryant would have a field day with that.
Twenty minutes later, with a table cloth spread and extra chairs brought in, everybody settled down to enjoy their tea and a choice of lemon or chocolate cake.
‘It’s not like any tour I’ve ever seen,’ Mrs Travis muttered under her breath but Carys chose to ignore her and, once the door was shut and Mrs Travis safely out of the way, Carys spoke.
‘I can’t thank you all enough for your kindness,’ she said. ‘You’ve all been so understanding.’
The group smiled back at her. The bashful young man, who’d managed to obtain the chair next to Carys, dared to lean forward and place a hand on hers.
Carys immediately blushed and this caused everyone to laugh.
‘I must have a photograph,’ the pink-hatted lady said, opening her handbag in excitement. ‘Only I don’t know how to use this.’ She produced a beautiful digital camera and waved it about hopelessly.
‘Allow me,’ a gentleman said.
‘Oh, would you, dear? So kind,’ the pink-hatted lady said, instantly posing next to Carys for her picture.
‘As long as I don’t see it in the Cuthland News under a dubious headline,’ Carys said and everybody laughed again.
Finally, it was time to say goodbye to everyone. Carys led them through to one of the private doors and the group slowly left, each one stopping to shake her hand.
‘Good luck,’ the man with the digital know-how said.
‘Be strong,’ the pink-hatted lady said, giving her a hug.
‘Be sure to stand up to him,’ the
young woman said.
‘I’ve got a spare room in my flat - if you need it,’ the bashful young man said, blushing furiously.
‘Tim!’ the young woman shouted, grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him away.
Carys couldn’t help but smile as she watched the group walk away down the driveway. They had to be the nicest bunch of people she’d ever met and now they’d gone, she felt quite bereft.
‘What do I do now?’ she asked herself.
Chapter 28
It was probably just as well that Georgiana hadn’t put in an appearance on the last ghost tour. Carys wondered whether she had boycotted the tour deliberately, realising that her specialised skills weren’t required. But where was she now? Why hadn’t she shown herself? The tour party was long gone and Carys felt in desperate need of some company.
Carys had automatically sought refuge in her study after the tour, closing her door against the possible intrusion of Mrs Travis. She couldn’t face questions now. No, she thought, now was a time for answers.
‘Georgiana?’ she whispered into the silence and then sighed when there was no sign of her. Where had she gone? Carys felt there was nobody else she could talk to. Her old friend Louise always seemed so busy these days and she didn’t feel it was right to talk to Phoebe about problems she was having with Richard. Other than Georgiana, there was only one person she could talk to about it all, and that was Richard himself.
For a moment, Carys paused in front of the large mirror above the fireplace and gazed at her reflection. She always looked so tired these days. She pinched her cheeks in an attempt to encourage a bit of colour into them but it didn’t work. That little trick only seemed to work in the movies. She ran her fingers through her hair and then found a lipstick in her jacket pocket and attempted to brighten her face up that way.
There. It would have to do. At least she wasn’t in jeans and Wellingtons today which must please Richard a little.
Opening the office door, Carys gauged that the coast was clear for a quick departure from the hall. She wasn’t in the mood for household concerns. She wanted to get out and get to Richard as quickly as possible. She knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until she’d seen him and had spoken her piece. The dear pink-hatted lady and young woman on the tour group had been right - Richard was completely out of order speaking to her that way. She’d been so upset, her mind had, for a few brief moments, concentrated on one simple solution: to run away. Quick and easy. But could she really do that? Quit her marriage? She’d made a lifelong commitment and you couldn’t simply bolt at the first hurdle you faced together.
Leaving the house, she walked, determinedly, towards the estate office. She’d only ever been in there once as she knew better than to bother Richard when he was working there but she didn’t care what she interrupted today. He’d interrupted her at work - over a matter which really was nothing to do with her. Now it was her turn to make her presence felt.
She took a deep breath and entered the offices.
‘Your grace!’ Richard’s secretary said, looking up from her desk in the tiny reception area, obviously surprised to see her. ‘His grace is in a meeting,’ she said but Carys wasn’t going to be swayed.
‘It’s all right. He’ll see me,’ she said with a little more confidence than she felt. With that, she charged through to the meeting room where, she saw through the door, the whole of the Amberley estate workers seemed to be congregated. For a second, she lost her nerve. What was she doing? She saw Richard, pouring over a heap of papers and talking ten to the dozen, flapping his hands about as he tried to explain something.
Carys took a deep breath and knocked on the door and entered.
Everybody looked up and, when they saw who it was, stood up.
‘Your grace,’ they said in unison, making Carys feel like a head teacher who’d just disturbed a class of pupils at work.
‘Please, sit down,’ she said, noticing that Richard was the only one who hadn’t stood up.
‘Richard?’ she said. ‘Can we talk?’
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed in perplexity. ‘What is it?’ he asked, obviously not wanting to interrupt his meeting.
She motioned to outside and, for one horrible moment, she thought he was going to just sit there and she’d have to leave. It was a battle of wills and they locked eyes for a moment but Carys was determined not to back down. And it worked.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ he said, standing up and following Carys out of the room. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked once the door was safely closed behind them. ‘Are the girls all right?’
‘The girls are fine, Richard.’
‘What is it, then?’ he said, obviously thinking that nothing else could be important enough to warrant interrupting him.
‘It’s us.’
‘What do you mean, us?’
‘I’m not happy.’
‘Carys, we’ll have to discuss this later. I’m in the middle-’
‘And that’s exactly the sort of thing that’s making me unhappy, Richard!’ she said, trying not to get hysterical. ‘I feel I can never talk to you. There’s always something more important to do or someone more important to see. But I’m your wife! I should be number one. Yet I feel I come a long way down your list of priorities.’
‘It’s just a busy time of year,’ he explained, scratching his head.
Carys shook hers. ‘There’s always an excuse, isn’t there? And it’s not just that. All this media rubbish is getting to me. I wasn’t quite prepared for that. And I was even less prepared for the way you’d handle it. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life as when you stormed into the middle of my tour group before. There was no excuse for it. None!’
‘Carys-’
‘It’s not my fault. That’s what I want to say.’
‘Carys! We’ll have to talk about all this later,’ he said.
‘Later. It’s always later! But I’ll be tired later. And you’ll be tired. And the girls will be around and we won’t talk, will we?’ Carys stopped, suddenly feeling exhausted.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve got to go now,’ Richard said. His voice was calm and steady, a striking contrast to Carys’s which had been spiralling out of control.
‘How did I know you were going to say that?’
He placed a hand on her shoulder briefly but then turned and went back to the meeting room. Carys stood for a moment, completely numb. What had happened there? Had he listened to her? Had he really paid her any attention at all? She decided he hadn’t. His head was full of Amberley. She was just a blip on his radar and he wasn’t tuning into her.
‘Everything all right, your grace?’ his secretary asked as Carys walked back through reception.
Carys nodded, hoping her latest embarrassing conversation with her husband hadn’t been overheard.
Leaving the office, She headed towards the walled garden. The sun felt warm and she took her jacket off and walked around the place she had such dreams for. She really had come to love Amberley and had foolishly believed that it was beginning to love her back. But it could never really be her home, could it? These houses weren’t meant for women - they were men’s houses. Women were merely visitors - coming and going through the ages, providing the next male heir. The roses that she could smell were not her roses - they were her husband’s and if he wanted to dig them up then he would. If he wanted to dig up the whole of the walled garden and get planning permission for a block of flats then he would. Cary’s voice was only noise. She had no real voice at all, did she?
She must have lost all track of time wandering round the gardens because, when she got back to the house, Mrs Travis was waiting to pounce.
‘Oh, Lady C. The girls are in the kitchen having a spot of tea. I didn’t know where you were. Are you all right?’
Carys nodded. ‘Can you keep an eye on them for me?’
Mrs Travis looked a little put out. Babysitting Cecily and Evelyn wasn’t in her job description.
‘Just until Lord C’s back.’
‘When will that be?’ Mrs Travis asked.
Carys shrugged her shoulders because she didn’t know. ‘I’ve got a call to make,’ she said, quickly walking through the house to their private quarters before Mrs Travis could protest.
She didn’t really have a call to make. She just needed to be alone. She didn’t want to hear about Cecily and Evelyn’s bickering or be asked about dinner or told that she had a dozen phone calls to return.
For a moment, she sat down on the end of the bed and looked around their room. It was beautiful, of course, like everything else at Amberley with its picture window, walk-in wardrobe, glorious fireplace and beautiful paintings but, at that moment, she didn’t feel it was home and that thought made her intensely sad.
She got up and walked across to the wardrobe and reached in for her small suitcase.
‘What are you doing, Carys?’
Carys spun around, surprised to see Georgiana watching over her. She’d never appeared in her bedroom before and it was rather unnerving.
‘You gave me such a shock.’
‘And you, my dear, are giving me a shock. What are you doing?’ Georgiana repeated.
‘I’m packing.’
Georgiana sighed. ‘Well, I can see that much.’
Carys turned to face her. ‘I’m going away.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m leaving Amberley.’
Georgiana frowned. ‘And nobody knows, do they?’
‘That’s right,’ Carys said, surprised at how calm she sounded. Now that she was packing - doing something - she felt a little more in control.
‘It isn’t the answer, Carys.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know what the answer is,’ she said. ‘And I certainly can’t seem to find it here. Not at the moment.’
‘So you are leaving.’
‘Yes.’
Georgiana sighed loudly. ‘And how is that going to solve anything?’
‘I don’t know,’ Carys said, her voice rising slightly.
Three Graces Page 24
