The Bluebell Castle Collection

by Sarah Bennett

  She risked a glance at him from under her lashes, but his attention was once more on the tablet. ‘I like these,’ he said, tapping the screen. ‘Where did you find them?’ He tilted the screen to show her the grouping she’d made of the four seasons paintings.

  ‘They’re in the west drawing room, where I found the sketch. They’re unattributed, but beautifully rendered.’

  Arthur turned the tablet back for another look. ‘Whoever painted them, they were connected to the castle in some way.’ When she raised an eyebrow, he pointed to the stone circle in the centre of the first image. ‘This is out in the woods behind the castle, we used to play there all the time. It’ll look just like this in a few more weeks.’

  ‘The bluebells?’ She remembered the photos she’d seen when she’d been Googling the family and the castle.

  He nodded. ‘A huge carpet of them as far as the eye can see, that’s how this place got its nickname, Bluebell Castle.’

  Bluebell Castle. A fanciful, romantic name for such an imposing fortress. ‘How old is the circle?’

  ‘A hundred and fifty years or so.’

  Lucie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me, it was built by my favourite baronet.’

  ‘The one and only.’ They exchanged a grin. ‘It’s actually a copy of an ancient circle out on the moors about five miles from the boundary of our lands. At least he had the good sense to leave the original undisturbed, and just have a replica made to entertain himself and his visitors. Although the one in the woods is very pretty, especially at the height of spring, I much prefer the ancient one. It’s set high on an escarpment, exposed to the wildest of the elements, with the most incredible view. A good spot for a picnic in the summer…’ Voice trailing off, he glanced at her, then quickly away.

  Was he hinting they might go there together? Lucie’s heart soared for a moment before reality struck. Come summer, she would be long gone. Assuming she actually got some work done rather than wasting her afternoons mooning over his Lordship.

  Needing a bit of distance, as well as to remind herself of what she was supposed to be doing, Lucie crossed over to the section of shelving where she’d stacked the personal correspondence and diaries she’d come across. ‘I wonder…’

  Flipping through the first pile she scanned and discarded more than a dozen different notebooks until she came across one covered in battered, brown leather with the frayed end of a band which would’ve once kept it secured shut. With care, she eased open the front cover and checked the date at the top of the first page. 1852. Excited, she put it to one side and scoured the shelves for similar-looking books, knowing she’d seen at least a few similar to this one. After a few moments she turned to face Arthur with more than half a dozen clutched in her hands. ‘Thomas’s journals! Thank goodness you come from a line of prolific record keepers.’

  Arthur rose to join her. Taking the first book from the stack, he flipped through it. ‘What are you hoping to find?’

  ‘A clue to what his connection might be to Eudora and JJ, perhaps? I’m not really sure. Hopefully there will be some information about why he became obsessed with a connection to Camelot which we can use to build the Arthurian collection you mentioned.’

  ‘Who’s JJ?’

  ‘JJ Viggliorento, he’s the artist who might, and I stress might, be the one who made the sketch of Eudora.’

  ‘Wow, even I’ve heard of him. How amazing would it be to find out he’d been here to the castle?’ He gifted her with an excited grin. ‘If we could prove a connection to him, maybe we could look at hosting an exhibition of his work. Something like that could be a real draw! And you’re hoping to find a clue to that in one of these? You’re full of bright ideas.’ His excitement waned a little. ‘It’ll take you ages to wade through all these though.’

  ‘I’ll have to abandon poor Isabella.’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Your several-times great grandmother,’ she explained. ‘I came across a couple of her diaries and they’ve been my bedtime reading. She’s quite funny, newly married to Percy and trying to get used to being stuck out in the wilds of Derbyshire after growing up in London. It’s a bit like reading one of those Georgette Heyer romances.’ She was a sucker for a good love story—always had been.

  ‘I can’t say I know much about her. She would’ve been Thomas’s daughter-in-law, because Percy is surely Percival, the first in the family to get saddled with this ludicrous naming tradition.’

  ‘I quite like it,’ Lucie admitted. ‘And Arthur isn’t too outlandish.’

  ‘True enough. I think after the dreadful teasing my father and Uncle Lancelot had to endure, he tried to find a way to stay true to the tradition without us getting beaten up every day at boarding school.’

  The mention of boarding school sent her flashing back to her glory days at Wessingdean. How she’d managed not to flinch when Arthur had mentioned being best man at Henrietta Warner-Mills wedding the other day, was beyond her. They’d been put in the same small dormitory on their first day and had bonded in shared misery over being away from home for the first time in their lives. They’d had huge fun together, and it’d been Henrietta who’d got her interested in horse-riding. There’d even been plans for Lucie to join Henrietta and her family for a period of the summer holidays—until her father’s fraud had been discovered.

  Arthur shifted next to her, and she realised she’d been lost in her memories for too long. Scrambling for a question that wouldn’t reveal any of the turmoil the topic had stirred up, she settled for turning the discussion back to him. ‘Did you enjoy boarding school?’

  He considered it for a moment before nodding. ‘Yes. Well, for the most part, anyway. I still had Tristan to rely on, although I missed Iggy dreadfully. Like I said before, I was very sporty so that made it easy to make friends because I was on so many teams.’ His expression clouded. ‘It was the best thing for us, even though it meant being separated from our sister for the first time in our lives. Dad couldn’t manage the three of us on his own, and we were in danger of becoming quite feral according to Aunt Morgana.’

  Wondering if she’d stirred up some bad memories, Lucie winced. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d lost your mum as well.’

  The sardonic twist of his lips turned his features harsher. ‘We didn’t lose her, she upped and left when we were barely two years’ old.’

  ‘How awful.’ Whatever ups and downs she and her mum had along the way, Lucie couldn’t imagine being without her; couldn’t imagine her mum wanting to be without her, and vice versa. And though her dad hadn’t wanted to see her, she could understand now that he’d been trying to protect her—even if it had left with her too many unanswered questions and no way to resolve them. ‘Do you still see her?’

  ‘Not if we can help it. Not that she’s ever shown much interest in us. She called at New Year’s, but that was because she wanted…something.’ Having clearly caught himself on the edge of confessing more than he wanted to tell her, Arthur made a performance of taking the rest of the journals Lucie was still holding and placed them on her desk.

  Taking the hint, she followed him and made herself busy tidying away her tablet, notebooks and the other bits and pieces they’d strewn about the place over the course of the afternoon. When he kept his back to her, Lucie hesitated for a moment before placing a gentle hand on his arm as she circled around to face him. ‘I’m sorry for prying.’

  ‘You didn’t, just rattled a skeleton or two, that’s all.’ With a final pat to the journal on the top of the pile, he rested his hip against the edge of the desk, his whole demeanour much more relaxed. ‘Let’s talk about something nicer. How’s your mum?’

  Just the thought of Constance was enough to bring a smile to Lucie’s face. ‘She’s good. I spoke to her last night, actually. She’d been busy all afternoon planting up her window boxes.’

  ‘Do you miss her? I get the impression the two of you are close.’

  ‘Very. It’s been just us since…’ It was her turn to hesitate. ‘Sin
ce we lost my father.’ When a look of knowing sympathy filled his gaze, her insides began to squirm. He was clearly drawing parallels between his own loss and hers when they couldn’t be further apart. From the few times he’d mentioned it, it was obvious Arthur and his siblings were still devastated over losing their father, but his passing had come as something of a relief after a long illness. Whereas her dad dying whilst still in prison had brought nothing but pain and confusion. But what could she say? I know you miss your father, but mine was a lying, deceitful pig who I was glad to see the back of?

  No. Even on her blackest days, she wouldn’t have meant that. Part of her knew she should despise him for all the misery he’d wrought to the people he’d stolen from, but deep down she was still just a little girl who missed her daddy. Even just thinking about him was enough to bring the tears pricking to the backs of her eyes. Better not to mention him at all.

  ‘What are you planning to do over Easter, are you going home to visit her?’

  Caught off guard, she stared at him for a few moments. ‘I hadn’t given it much thought. She knows the initial contract here is for two months, and I haven’t made any plans to go back during that time.’ And then it struck her. The family would have their own plans for the holiday weekend and likely wouldn’t want or expect her to be around. Embarrassed at her lack of foresight, she hurried on. ‘I’ll check the train timetable later, sort something out.’

  Arthur caught her eye for a moment before shifting his gaze to the journals stacked on her desk. ‘You’re more than welcome to invite her here. If you think she might like a change of scenery, that is.’

  Now she was really confused. Did he expect her to work over Easter, or not? ‘It would be nice for her to get out of town, and I could keep on top of things here.’ She swept an arm towards her desk. ‘If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition?’

  Arthur straightened up. ‘Not at all, but I don’t want you thinking I made the suggestion because I’m trying to keep your nose pressed to the grindstone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the hours you’ve been working.’ Folding his arms across his chest, he fixed her with a look that made her want to squirm like a bug under a microscope. ‘Iggy said she still hasn’t been able to persuade you to join her for that ride yet.’

  She felt her cheeks heating. ‘There’s so much to do, it didn’t feel right to take the morning off.’

  Poking out his tongue, he made a rude noise to show what he thought of that. ‘I hadn’t appreciated how big a task this was until we were just going through everything now. The last thing I want is for you to burn yourself out. I’m going to have a word with Tristan and get him to help us.’

  ‘Us? ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If we divide the remaining rooms between us, we can help you pull together a full inventory that much quicker. I appreciate how thorough and conscientious you’ve been in your approach, and I think it’s the way to go. But if it’s down to you to document every item in every room you’ll be at it for weeks.’

  ‘Once I have these records sorted, I’ll be able to spend all day surveying the rooms, which will make it much quicker,’ she protested. ‘You can’t pay me to do a job and then take on half the workload yourself.’

  ‘I’ll think you’ll find I can do whatever I please.’

  There was something very wrong with her that those little flashes of arrogance he showed her had the capacity to melt her brain, her knees and everything else between the two. Angry with herself for being unable to control her reactions to him, she huffed her fringe from her eyes and folded her arms in a mirror to his pose. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, if you did you wouldn’t have had to hire me.’

  ‘I can check off a list of items, take photographs of them and add anything not already recorded to your database. Tristan can do the same. You’ll be able to review the images and update the descriptions with whatever additional details you think they need and identify stuff you want to take a look at for yourself.’

  Okay, when he put it like that, he had a point, but it still didn’t sit right with her. ‘You’ve got your own work to do, and I don’t want to take you away from that. Tristan, either.’ Although she had no idea what his brother actually did for a living. Being a smartarse couldn’t be a full-time profession.

  Softening his stance, Arthur placed his hands on her upper arms and squeezed lightly. ‘Let us help you with the basic data gathering and then you can get on with the important stuff.’

  Her skin tingled where his fingers pressed into her skin, even through the thin wool of her sweater. She was still not convinced he hadn’t decided to intervene because he was disappointed with how much progress she was making. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay.’ With one more quick squeeze, he let her go. ‘We’ll start tomorrow afternoon.’

  She opened her mouth only to have him tap the end of her nose, a quirky smile on his face. ‘Before you ask why we’re not starting first thing, it’s because I’m taking you out for a walk. I don’t think you’ve set foot outside these walls since you entered the castle.’

  ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘That doesn’t make me feel any better about abusing your work ethic. Besides, it’s Saturday tomorrow so you should be off the clock. I’ll take you out to see the circle. Bring your tablet to take some photos which you can compare to the paintings, then you can call it research if that makes you feel better.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’d better get changed for dinner.’

  The top of his head was disappearing from view as he climbed down the spiral staircase before she realised she was gaping after him like some slack-jawed idiot. Had she really thought that arrogant streak of his attractive a few moments before? One minute he was telling her he was happy with the way she was doing things, the next he was turning her plans upside down. His Lordship had spoken and there was no more to be said about it, because he’d decreed it so.

  Snatching up the stack of Thomas’s journals, she tucked them under her arm and stomped down the stairs after Arthur. By the time she’d made it as far as the great hall where she was greeted by the ever-faithful Bella, she knew it wasn’t Arthur she was cross with—it was herself. There was nothing wrong with anything he’d suggested. If he and Tristan could help her get through the initial room surveys it could only be a good thing. Taking photos of endless bits of quality, but mostly unexciting furniture wasn’t exactly thrilling, and she was sure they were both more than competent enough to do as thorough a job as she’d been doing. They had more invested in this project than she did after all.

  No, it was the prospect of spending more time with Arthur that unsettled her. This afternoon had been bad enough, but tomorrow morning, regardless of what he’d said about taking the tablet with her, she wouldn’t even have her work to act as a shield between them. And the way he was making her feel, she’d need all the protection she could get.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  An afternoon together had shown Arthur his grand plan to keep his mind off Lucie and fixed on his responsibilities wasn’t going to cut it. For one thing, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, although he’d been careful to keep any contact appropriate. The pain with which she’d spoken about losing her father had struck a deep cord inside him, and it’d been all he could do not to drag her into his arms and hold her close. Not a sexual desire, more a visceral need to offer and receive comfort in their shared misery. There’d been a fragility about her; a way she held herself so tightly together it seemed at any moment she might shatter into pieces under the compression of her emotions.

  She was also painfully stubborn, and it’d taken channelling every ounce of command he’d inherited from generations of Ludworths being masters of all they surveyed to overrule her protestations about accepting his assistance. He’d thought it an inspired solution to satisfy his desire to spend more time with Lucie, without having to feel guilty over putting his own needs before those of the family. He’d even roped in his brother to avoid any suspicion ove
r his motives. Although Tristan had given him a knowing look, he’d kept quiet beyond supporting his suggestion the two of them help Lucie out with the survey and had agreed to meet them after lunch in the library.

  It wasn’t only his brother who was onside with his plans; the day had dawned bright and clear. The old adage about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb was holding true, and there was a real sense of spring in the air as he opened the front door and shooed the dogs out onto the gravel to run off their first bit of excitement after being shut in all night. Although Lucie was much better around them, and the love affair between her and Bella was growing from strength to strength, he still didn’t want them leaping all over her when she finally decided to join him for their walk.

  Resisting the urge to check his watch, he tucked his Barbour jacket under one arm and wandered a few paces to examine the large, circular flowerbed which acted as an unofficial roundabout for any vehicles entering and exiting the sweeping driveway. Iggy and her green fingers had been hard at work from the looks of the rich dark soil scattered amongst the dancing golden heads of daffodils and the delicate little crocuses in shades of pink, lilac and purple turning their faces to the morning sun.

  ‘Am I late?’ He turned at Lucie’s call, his lips stretching in a smile of anticipation as she jogged across the gravel towards him. Like him, she’d matched jeans with several thin layers on top. Her pale green hooded sweater had been left unzipped to display a crisp white shirt with the outline of a darker green T-shirt showing through. She looked as fresh and bright as the pretty blooms in the flowerbed.