Three Graces (8 page)

‘Good heavens, I was joking!’

‘And I hope his grace is too. He has no idea how much they all cost to keep. Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, turning round to dig her hand into a metal container on a small console table by the door, ‘you’d better take some of these.’

‘What are they?’

‘Treats - for the dogs. If you need to call them back.’

‘What do I do with them?’

‘Pop them in your pocket there,’ she said, picking a weather-beaten jacket from the enormous coat rail by the door. ‘You’d better wear this. It’s going to rain later.’

Carys grimaced as she was handed the dog treats. Pockets were for crisp white tissues and an emergency lipstick, not smelly dog biscuits.

‘What if I get lost?’

Mrs Travis smiled and gave a short laugh. ‘You can see the house for miles. I don’t think you’ll get lost. But, just in case, you’d better take this.’ She turned round and opened a drawer in the console table. ‘Here,’ she said, giving her one of the maps they sold in the gift shop. ‘You can’t go far wrong with this, my lady.’

Leaving Amberley far behind her, Carys’s strides became longer and more confident and she breathed in the air as if it were made for her alone.

Mrs Travis was right: Amberley could be seen for miles and was beautiful from every angle. Carys couldn’t stop looking at it, hardly daring to believe that this was her new home. She also couldn’t stop looking at her watch. It was ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning. Just a few weeks ago, she would have been stuck in the office at Gyland and Green with no hope of a reprieve until lunchtime. Now, here she was, a mistress of her own time.

As soon as they were out of the house, the four spaniels had taken charge, bolting through the garden towards the hill that led to the wood above Amberley. Carys was happy to follow with Mungo, the black Labrador, for company.

‘They seem to know where they’re going,’ she said to herself.

As she climbed, Amberley became smaller and smaller. She unfolded the map of the grounds and peered at the criss cross of footpaths and then wended her way through the wood. The path was wide, soft and silent and the woods were filled with birdsong. She wished Richard was with her and, for a moment, wondered which part of the estate he was on. He always got up so early and yet there still didn’t seem to be enough time in the day for them to be together. The relaxed husband she’d briefly been allowed to see on their honeymoon had vanished and had been replaced by a workaholic.

As she looked down from the woods, she saw the beautiful stretch of river which passed through the Amberley estate before wending its way down the valley into Carminster.

She walked on. The woods appeared to be never-ending and seemed to suck her deep within them until she forgot about everything but the rhythm of her feet and the sweetness of the air she breathed. She passed by a clearing where a great white statue of William, the ninth Duke of Cuthland, stood proudly surveying the view. At another clearing, there was a statue of Diana, the huntress, her arms laced with fungi as if she were trying, desperately, to melt away into the wood. And, every now and then, she caught a glimpse of Amberley through the trees. It was about the size of a doll’s house now, but it wasn’t until a full hour later that Carys stopped walking.

Standing perfectly still for a moment, gazing down at the river below which was a bright emerald with the reflections of the summer trees, she suddenly panicked. Where was she? She felt she’d been out for hours. Only Mungo remained by her side. She’d caught glimpses of the other dogs every so often. They were never very far away and she was relieved that they hadn’t taken advantage of her inexperience to do a runner. Perhaps, though, she’d better gather them all together.

Feeling in her pocket for the little whistle, Carys held it to her lips and blew lightly. The result was very impressive. Dolly, the black and white springer, was the first to appear, her legs soaking wet and her belly splattered with mud. Dizzy, Phoebe’s liver and white springer, was next, her ears and coat looking as if it had collected the remains of last year’s autumn leaf fall.

‘Where are the other two?’ Carys asked them as if they might tell her.

Then, with a sudden crash from the undergrowth as if a wild boar were about to charge, Foxy surfaced, golden but dishevelled and, thankfully, Badger followed closely behind, looking thoroughly non-plussed by everything. Carys was thankful for small mercies. She would have hated to have lost one of Richard’s precious dogs on her first walk but she didn’t want to count her blessings too soon: they still had the walk back to go.

And she really did intend to go straight back to the house but, on the way down the hill, the sky darkened and great fat raindrops fell from the heavens. Was it worth running the rest of the way, risking a soaking? Carys decided it wasn’t and sheltered as best as she could under the canopy of the oaks at the edge of the wood, the dogs happy to sniff and poke their noses into the foliage for a while. She didn’t time the shower but, once it was over, she caught sight of a path which ran along the edge of the wood away from the house and couldn’t resist finding out where it went.

‘Come on, dogs,’ she called and they instantly ran on ahead of her, delighted with their extended walk.

It wasn’t long before Carys saw a tiny cottage. Built from the same mellow gold stone that Amberley was built from, it looked like something from a fairytale and Carys was instantly captivated. Even more exciting, it looked lived in. She saw a pair of candy-striped curtains in the window and the front door, painted a sunny yellow, was wide open.

Should she? This was, after all, private property. But, then again, wasn’t it her role to find out about the estate and introduce herself? Or was that just a new excuse for her incurable nosiness? Louise had already teased her, saying she’d only married Richard so that she could have a good nose around the private quarters of Amberley Court.

She was just about to do the decent thing and head back when she heard the unmistakable crackle of a fire from behind the cottage. As she ventured round the back, the heat hit her and she smiled. Here was a chance to warm up a bit, maybe even dry off a little.

Branches snapped in the depths of the fire and ash butterflies floated down from the air, twisting and turning before disappearing into nothing on the ground. What was it about fires that was so mesmeric? Carys became so completely absorbed by the movement of the flames which seemed to have survived the recent downpour that the sudden interruption of a voice startled her.

‘Can I help you?’ a voice, filled with the softened syllables of the Cuthland countryside, asked.

Carys turned and came face to face with a stout man wearing green from head to foot.

‘I’m sorry,’ Carys said automatically, knowing that she had trespassed even though she was now part of the family that owned the estate.

‘My lady?’ the green man asked.

‘Carys,’ she said, ‘please.’ She stepped forward and extended her hand which was taken and shaken with alacrity.

‘Begging your pardon, my lady, but I didn’t recognise you.’

‘I guess I do look a state, don’t I?’ Carys laughed.

‘Not at all,’ the man said, looking mortified that he might have offended her. ‘It was the coat,’ he explained.

‘Oh, yes. It’s a terrible coat, isn’t it?’ Carys smiled down at the coat which Mrs Travis had picked out for her.

‘It was mine,’ he said.

Carys instantly blushed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-’

The man grinned. ‘It’s okay, my lady. I’ve owned many terrible coats in my time. It’s an occupational hazard.’

Carys’s eyebrows raised.

‘I’m the head gardener.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s hard to keep things tidy when wrestling with rhododendrons or shifting compost.’

Carys smiled. There were some people in life that you knew you were going to like immediately and this head gardener was one of them.

‘I’m Charles Brodie, my lady. But most people call me Ash.’

‘Ash,’ she repeated. ‘Is that because you’re always tending bonfires?’

‘I reckon it could be. That or the fact that my hair’s been grey since my early twenties.’

Carys blinked. He looked to be in his late forties now. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘Bad genes and a wife who left me after two weeks might’ve done it.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Still, mustn’t grumble,’ he said. ‘I have this place and I’m happy here. No place in the world like Amberley. Expect you’ll be feeling that way before long, my lady?’

She smiled. ‘It’s funny,’ she said, ‘but I already feel like I’ve been here forever.’

‘Amberley worked its magic on you already? It gets under your skin and stays there.’

‘That’s what Richard says. Er - Lord Amberley.’

‘Ay. He’s an Amberley advocate through and through. Couldn’t have a better boss than he. And his grace, of course. ‘Though I reckon he could manage without the place sometimes.’

‘You do?’

Ash nodded. ‘Don’t mean to speak out of term, like, but he’s never seemed quite happy here.’

Carys thought about the bad-tempered old man who was now her father-in-law.

‘I think you’re right,’ she said. ‘I think his grace could easily be happier somewhere else but Rich- Lord Amberley - well, I don’t think he’d know how to exist anywhere else. He was bad enough on our honeymoon,’ she said, and then wondered if she should be confessing such things to a member of staff.

Ash nodded again as if he understood.

A sudden crack from the bonfire made Carys realise that time was passing. ‘I suppose I’d better gather up the dogs and get back. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

‘You too, my lady.’

‘
Carys
,’ she laughed. ‘Nobody will call me Carys any more.’

Ash gave a little grin and then said, ‘I think you should have something.’

‘What?’ Carys watched as he nipped into the cottage and came out carrying an old tweed cap.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit dusty, like, but it might help if it rains again, and I think it will before the hour’s out.’

‘Thank you,’ Carys said, genuinely touched by his gesture. ‘I’ll bring it back.’

Ash shook his head. ‘I’ve got dozens of them. It’s all anyone ever buys me for Christmas.’

Carys tried not to laugh.

‘Be nice to see you again, my lady.’

She looked at his kindly face and saw, at once, a man who was sweet and sincere, and desperately lonely.

Leaving Ash’s cottage, the sun burst forth from the sky and Carys saw the lake in the distance, twinking with diamonds of light. It looked so beautiful that she couldn’t resist taking a closer look. The dogs, delighted with an extension of their extension, ran ahead, tails wagging wildly.

What a wonderful place Amberley was, Carys thought as she walked round the edge of the lake, watching the swallows skim over the water. In one morning, she’d walked up hills, through woods, crossed a river, seen statues and was now walking around a lake that was too beautiful for words. Time had evaporated and she was completely at ease with the world but all that was about to change.

Thinking it best she made her way back before she was reported a missing person, Carys headed back just as the skies decided to repeat their earlier shower. Cursing the fickleness of English summers, and placing Ash’s cap on her head, Carys made a dash for it, the five dogs quickly catching on and sprinting like maniacs across the emerald lawn towards the house.

Once there, she fumbled for her key to the door at the back of the house. It was far away from the prying eyes of tourists but there would always be some cheeky visitor who thought the
private
signs didn’t apply to them and would try their luck if a door was left ajar so it was always locked.

Taking off the cap and shaking her head, dog-like, as she entered the hallway, she closed the door behind her and carefully counted the dogs to make sure she hadn’t lost any.

‘Blimey,’ she laughed. ‘We’d better find some towels.’

Foxy’s pale gold coat had turned to the colour of burnt butterscotch. Badger, Dolly and Dizzy’s long fur was plastered to their bodies, their feathered legs and ears hanging long and limply, whilst Mungo’s dark coat shone as if polished.

Carys dreaded to think what she looked like. There was no mirror in the hallway but she didn’t have to wait long to find out because Richard strode towards her, his angry feet echoing around the enormous walls.

‘Richard!’ she called across to him. ‘We’ve had the most amazing walk. You wouldn’t believe-’

‘Look at you!’ he blurted.

‘I know,’ Carys said, beaming. ‘We got caught in the rain - twice!’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said.

Carys frowned.

‘Your hair! It’s all scraped back. You’ve got no make-up on. And look at your clothes.’

‘What do you mean?’

He shook his head, his face a picture of utter bewilderment. ‘There’s been a change in you, Carys. You used to dress like a woman but now you look like a man.’

Carys felt herself blushing to the very roots of her being.

‘And what the hell is this?’ he asked, snatching the cap from her hand.

‘Ash gave it to me.’

‘Who?’

‘Ash - the head gardener.’

‘Brodie? Charles Brodie?’

Carys nodded. ‘I got caught in the rain and didn’t have a hood on so he gave it to me.’

Richard looked at it in distaste. ‘It’s disgusting. It should be incinerated.’

Carys dared to snatch it back from her husband. ‘It’s soft as new fleece and twice as warm,’ she said quietly.

‘It makes you look like a refuse collector.’

Carys’s eyes shot an angry glance at Richard. ‘I suppose you expect me to float around Amberley in designer clothes all day, do you?’

‘It would make a pleasant change.’

She turned away from him. She’d never seen him so angry and wasn’t sure how to respond.

‘I’ve been worried sick about you, Carys. Where have you been?’

‘What do you mean, where have I been? I’ve been out walking your dogs as per your instructions.’

‘For four hours?’

‘I kind of lost track of time. Anyway, they obviously needed the walk or else they’d have complained.’