The Bluebell Castle Collection

by Sarah Bennett

  ‘Well, anyway,’ Charlie said after giving him a quizzical glance. ‘It’s her last day today. We’re having drinks in The Crown and Sceptre later; you should come along. I’m sure everyone would be delighted to see you.’

  Everyone apart from Jessica. They’d been great friends until he’d cocked it all up by coming on too strong at a work’s party. So desperate had she been to avoid his crass advances she’d done a runner, then hardly said two words to him on their return to work in the new year. Several years later, it was still a source of embarrassment that he’d managed to read what he’d thought was a mutual attraction so wrong. The fact she’d married some bloke she’d practically grown up with less than twelve months later had told him exactly how mistaken he’d been about the whole scenario.

  Even with her own wedding to plan, Jess had still beaten him hands down to the permanent position on the events team they’d both been interning for. Her work ethic had been formidable, even back then. Luckily for Tristan an opening had come up in the corporate affairs side of the business and he’d been able to transfer across. Things had soon settled down between them, and whenever they’d been called upon to work together on a big project it’d been fine. Oh, he still felt a pull towards her whenever she removed her glasses and stared at him, but married women were off limits. No matter how sweet and sexy they were. They’d never quite recovered that close bond forged during their first week as baby interns, both fresh from university and clueless about the real world, though, much to his chagrin.

  ‘Maybe I’ll drop in for a quick drink,’ he said, having zero intention of doing so. It wouldn’t be fair on Jess to appear out of the blue and steal any of her thunder. ‘Which of your rivals has been lucky enough to poach her?’ Their corporate world was a small one, and staff interchanged across the major firms with some regularity as they zig-zagged their way along career paths all headed in one direction. It was testament to both Charlie and Tim how few of their employees jumped ship for other opportunities. Someone must’ve made Jess one hell of a sweet offer.

  ‘That’s the absolute worst thing about the whole bloody business – she’s not moving to a new role, she’s quitting.’ Charlie shook his head then took another mouthful of wine.

  His revelation stunned Tristan. ‘But why?’

  The waiter chose that moment to return to the table, interrupting their conversation as they each selected something from the lighter lunch menu before throwing all their good intentions down the drain by adding a portion of chips to share.

  ‘Carbs will always be my downfall.’ As though to underline his point, Charlie reached for a piece of bread from the basket between them and began to slather it with butter. ‘What were we saying? Ah, yes, poor Jessica.’ As though intent on torturing Tristan, he took a large bite out of the bread and proceeded to chew it slowly.

  Poor Jessica. What the hell did that mean? Tamping down his need to demand answers, Tristan conjured every possibility. Perhaps her husband was changing his job and they were moving away. She already had a couple of kids, was she pregnant again and had decided to take a career break? Neither of those seemed likely to elicit the sympathy he’d detected in Charlie’s tone. Was she ill? Oh God, what if one of the kids was ill? The piece of bread he’d taken was now many crumbs on his side plate, shredded into pieces as he pondered ever more outlandish scenarios.

  ‘Now, normally I wouldn’t say anything, but she’s been very open about things around the office, so I don’t feel I’d be betraying a confidence if I tell you that she and Steve are getting a divorce.’ Charlie shook his head, expression sad. ‘No one else involved,’ he continued, answering Tristan’s unspoken assumption. ‘Just one of those things, apparently, and they’re still very good friends. With him moving out and giving up his job to go back to university, she can’t afford the rent on her own so she’s moving back in with her parents until she can get things straight. They retired to Surrey, or Sussex, or perhaps it was Somerset. One of the esses.’ He dismissed them all with a wave of his hand, the look on his face saying they were all as bad as each other as far as Charlie was concerned. ‘But, enough about that, tell me what’s been going on with you.’

  As they shared their meal, Tristan outlined the goings-on at Bluebell Castle, most significantly the discovery by Arthur’s now-wife, Lucie, of a long-lost painting which was going a long way to righting the family’s fortunes. ‘I saw something about that in the paper,’ Charlie said. ‘Hidden under the floorboards or something, wasn’t it?’

  Tristan laughed. ‘Walled up in a hidden passageway, actually. There’s a heart-breaking story attached to its creation. One of our ancestors commissioned the piece to commemorate his engagement and his fiancée did a moonlight flit with the artist. I’ve been working with my sister-in-law on the copy for the information boards to support an exhibition in the castle about it. We’re hoping to add some of our other ancestors to it as time goes on, bit of a potted history of the Ludworths, you know the kind of thing?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘You’re opening things up to the public then?’

  ‘Yes. My sister, Iggy, did an amazing job with restoring the grounds, and the summer fete was a huge success. We’d like to open a few parts of the castle as well to ensure we’ve got an all-seasons attraction. That’s where I come into the mix – I’m organising some top-end boutique holiday packages. A chance to experience a traditional Christmas in a real castle. I put a teaser up on the castle’s blog the other week just to see if there was any interest and I’ve had dozens of enquiries. I’d also like to do something with the grounds, create a Winter Wonderland experience.’

  ‘Hopefully it won’t end up like one of those disasters that seem to crop up on the news every year.’ Charlie observed, dryly.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Tristan agreed, fervently. He’d come across some absolute horror stories during his research into it over the summer. ‘Thankfully, I’ve got my own crack team of garden designers on call in my sister and her other half, Will Talbot.’

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that Will Talbot?’

  Prior to meeting Iggy, Will had been something of a tabloid celebrity renowned for his wild ways. Happily settled, there was little about him now to hint at that bad boy image, other than a rather arresting scar on his face and a penchant for leather jackets and jeans.

  Tristan grinned. It seemed like even someone as urbane and sophisticated as Charlie wasn’t immune to a little stardust. ‘The very same. They’re based here in town now for the most part which is one of the reasons I came to London. They’ve been working on design ideas, and we’re sitting down this afternoon to make a final decision.’

  ‘Cutting it fine, aren’t you? It’s September already.’ Charlie followed his comment with a chuckle. ‘But then that always was your style.’

  ‘Hey,’ Tristan protested, though he was laughing at the same time. ‘I met most of my deadlines.’ True, he’d pulled more than a few all-nighters to get the job done, but he’d always delivered when it mattered.

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve got someone who’ll keep you in line.’ When Tristan remained silent, Charlie gave him a speaking look. ‘I quite fancied the sound of your traditional Christmas in a castle. After the year we’ve had, Tim and I could do with a bit of luxury pampering, but maybe we’ll wait until next year …’

  ‘You don’t think I can pull it off.’ Tristan couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  Leaning forward, Charlie patted the back of his hand in a purely paternal gesture. ‘I’m sure you can pull it off, but perhaps it’s time for you to do more than that. Christmas is a special time for a lot of people. Last-minute scrambles to get things done shouldn’t be a part of that.’ Sitting back, he finished the wine in his glass. ‘Look, Tristan, you know I adore you – both Tim and I would cut off our right arms if we thought for a moment we could lure you back into the fold – but you’ve never been one to sweat the small stuff. When you are part of a team, you’re unstoppable, and we ga
ve you the structure you needed to succeed. But even you have to admit you’re not always on top of all the details.’

  Tristan opened his mouth to argue then recalled the unread emails in his inbox. He was very good at focusing on the stuff that interested him, the rest of it … ‘So, what do you suggest?’

  ‘Get yourself a decent assistant, someone to compliment your enthusiasm with a dash of ruthless practicality.’ Charlie offered him a kindly smile. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m sure it will be a great success, but this is the first time you’ve struck out on your own and sometimes it takes a friend to point out our potential weaknesses.’

  A friend. Yes, that’s what Charlie was, and a mentor too. ‘Thank you. And if you’re serious about you and Tim coming up for Christmas, I’ll be happy to do you a special deal.’

  Charlie waved him off, but Tristan could see it had pleased him that Tristan was willing to not only listen to his advice, but take it in the spirit in which it was meant. ‘Nonsense. Mates rates are the death of far too many ventures. We’ll be happy to pay full price. Do we get a proper four-poster bed?’

  ‘We’ve still got a couple of old horsehair mattresses if you want that authentic experience. Or I could throw some rushes down in front of the fireplace in the great hall and you can bed down with the dogs for warmth.’ The image of Charlie, a walking Savile Row catalogue, being descended upon by the castle’s collection of unruly hounds brought a wicked grin to Tristan’s face. A mixed bag, most from local shelters or given up by people who had taken on more than they could handle, the castle pack were a sweet, harmless bunch but could be a little overwhelming to someone not used to them. ‘I did tell you about the dogs?’

  ‘Stop trying to put me off, it won’t work. Tim told me the other day I’m getting a bit paunchy.’ Charlie touched a hand to the slight roundness of his stomach well disguised by the impeccable cut of his jacket. ‘I can already picture myself striding around the Derbyshire countryside with a whippet at my heels.’ He frowned, thoughtfully. ‘That’s what you North-country types have isn’t it?’

  ‘Either that or a ferret stuffed down our trousers, yes,’ Tristan responded with a wry grin. ‘If you want to walk the dogs every day, Arthur will probably love you forever.’ He paused to signal to the waiter that they were ready for coffee. ‘Seriously though, the castle is set right on the edge of the dales so there’s no shortage of walking to be done – weather permitting, of course. And the estate has its own woods and plenty of parkland. There’s also stables if you ride …’

  Charlie pulled a face. ‘I can’t see myself on the back of a horse, but the idea of getting out of town and away from the endless round of parties is very appealing. We’ll have to talk Tim around to the idea, but you can do that later when you join us in the pub for drinks.’

  Damn, now how was he going to duck out of it without causing offence? ‘I’m not sure if I’ll have time, what with seeing Iggy and Will this afternoon.’ Probably best not to mention he was staying in their spare room during his visit, or that he wasn’t going back home until the day after tomorrow.

  ‘Nonsense. You have to come. Now you’re leaving us in the lurch, it’s the least you can do.’ It was said with a smile, but there was no getting around Charlie’s disappointment at his continued attempts to evade the celebration.

  ‘The party is for Jess, I don’t want to crash in at the last minute.’ Tristan tried one last time to get out of it.

  ‘Rubbish. She won’t mind, she’ll probably be relieved. You know how she is when there’s too much fuss. Hold on a minute.’ Before Tristan could say anything, Charlie whipped out his phone and made a call. ‘Jessica? Charlie, here. What? Yes, everything is fine with the Centrifuge account, and besides, it’s not your problem anymore, is it?’

  Tristan listened as Charlie laughed. ‘Okay, Little Miss Conscientious, in three and a half hours it won’t be your problem anymore. Look, I’m with Tristan, and he’s decided to quit on me as well. I told him he should come for drinks tonight, but he’s being stubborn. Have a word, will you?’ With that he thrust his phone across the table, leaving Tristan no choice but to pick it up.

  ‘Hi, Jess.’

  ‘Hello, stranger.’ The phone emphasised the natural huskiness of her voice, and he could instantly picture her, long dark hair wrapped up in one of those practical knots his fingers always itched to undo, a little crease of concentration furrowing her brow as her hands flew across her keyboard. ‘Causing trouble, as usual?’

  He laughed. ‘You know me too well.’ But not half as well as he might wish. ‘I’m staying in Derbyshire for the foreseeable future, and Charlie has decided he’s never going to forgive me.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Charlie bellowed loud enough to be heard. ‘And the same goes for you too, Jessica. Pair of traitors.’

  ‘Here we go again,’ Jess muttered, giving Tristan the impression Charlie had put a lot more pressure on her about leaving than he had received. It didn’t do much for his ego, but it would be churlish to feel any resentment. Her tone brightened. ‘Well at least if you’re leaving, too, that takes some of the heat off me.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Tristan said, wryly. ‘Thanks a bunch. Listen, Charlie wants me to come along to your leaving drinks tonight, but I don’t want to crash your party.’

  ‘Oh God, crash it, please crash it!’ she begged. ‘I told them I didn’t want to do anything, but you know what they’re like.’

  ‘Any excuse for a party.’ It was the company’s unofficial motto, and, after all, the way they made most of their business.

  ‘Exactly! Please, say you’ll come.’ She was quiet for a long moment. ‘It’d be nice to see you again.’

  Well, hell, how on earth was he going to refuse now? ‘It’ll be nice to see you too.’

  What was he going to wear tonight? He hadn’t packed much, having only planned to be away for a couple of days. He’d worn a suit for lunch with Charlie, but that would be a bit over the top for the pub given he wasn’t coming from the office. They were only going to the pub, surely a shirt and jeans would suffice? And why was he bothered about it anyway?

  ‘Hello? Earth to Tristan.’ Iggy snapped her fingers a bare inch from his nose, making Tristan flinch back in surprise.

  ‘Hey, stop that.’ He batted her hand away.

  ‘Well, if you’d stop daydreaming for five minutes, I wouldn’t have to.’ His sister slouched back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. ‘It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do other than give up our time to help you out.’

  Tristan didn’t know what the hell had got into her, but Iggy had been in a foul mood from the moment he’d returned to the apartment she shared with Will. They’d gathered around the big island in the kitchen that doubled as a table to discuss how to transform the castle grounds into something spectacular, but she’d done nothing but snipe and snap at him since they’d sat down.’

  Will leaned over from his seat to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. ‘Leave your poor brother alone, he’s not going to ruin your garden.’

  Iggy scowled at Will, but there was no mistaking the way her body language softened when he tucked his hand under her hair to stroke a light caress. ‘He can’t even pay attention long enough to listen to what we have to say about it, how can I trust him?’

  Now he understood what was at the heart of her mood, Tristan had nothing but sympathy for his sister’s position. She loved Bluebell Castle – probably more than he and Arthur did combined – and she’d surprised them all by her decision to move away. It was clear to anyone she adored Will, and he her, and his horticultural business was based in London so the move made sense. They were working to diversify the brand, to leave the refurbishment projects which had been the bread and butter of the business in the hands of their experienced installation team so Will and Iggy could focus on their new passion for bringing gardening to schools and deprived inner city areas, and Tristan understood how important it was for his sister to strive to build a life away fro
m their childhood home. Not because she didn’t love it there, but because she’d been the de facto mistress of the castle for several years and she was determined to surrender that role to Lucie. But the gardens were her baby, and Tristan needed her to know that he understood that, that he would honour all the hard work she had put into them and preserve her legacy.

  Pulling his chair close on her other side, he slung an affectionate arm around her waist. ‘I won’t screw this up, Iggle-Piggle, I swear.’

  Though his use of her hated nickname earned him a punch in the arm, it was immediately followed by a swift, hard hug. ‘I know, it’s just …’

  ‘I know.’ Tristan gave her a squeeze before shuffling his chair back. ‘When it comes to the grounds, you’re still the boss. Consider me your on-site eyes and ears, but I won’t do anything that the three of us haven’t agreed in advance.’

  ‘And we’ll go up for as many weekends as we can spare. And a whole week at half-term,’ Will assured her.

  ‘That’s a lot of unnecessary miles,’ Iggy protested. ‘When I’m just being precious about it.’

  ‘Bollocks to that,’ Will retorted, before digging in his pocket with a sigh and dropping a pound coin into a jar on the table. ‘I can’t believe that meddling assistant of mine talked you into having a swear jar at home as well as in the office. A man should be able to eff and blind in the peace of his own bloody kitchen.’

  Giving him an evil grin, Iggy tapped the side of the jar with her finger until he fished out a fifty-pence piece and flipped it in after the pound. ‘She showed me a brochure for that luxury spa she visited last month on the back of your dirty mouth,’ she said.

  Will leaned forward to steal a kiss. ‘I thought you liked my dirty mouth.’