Three Graces (18 page)

‘
Well, say something about it, then
.’

Carys started. It was Georgiana.

‘
If you feel that strongly, say something. That’s what these boring old meetings are for. Tell them you had to stop a young man sneaking into the private apartments last week
.’

Carys blushed. And then dared to speak.

A stunned silence greeted her as she finished.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Richard asked, frowning at her from his end of the table.

‘I - forgot,’ Carys said, feeling her blush deepen. ‘And I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘But this does worry me.’

‘And concerns us all,’ Pamela Church, Amberley’s curator piped. ‘Think of the dangers this could impose on the collection. He might have stolen any number of things. I’ve always been concerned about the lack of security here.’

Richard still looked hesitant.

‘And then I saw a woman wondering along the corridor towards my office,’ Carys said.

‘When?’ Richard’s face had completely dropped in horror.

‘Yesterday,’ Carys lied.

‘How on earth did she get there?’

‘Well, it isn’t hard,’ Carys said. ‘Not if you really want to.’

‘
And she really wanted to
,’ Georgiana’s voice said.

‘And she really wanted to,’ Carys echoed.

‘This is terrible,’ Richard raked a hand through his hair which was beginning to look stressed like the rest of him.

‘I’ve said it all along…’ Pamela Church went on but nobody was really listening to her. Everybody was talking over each other.

‘…fire risk…’

‘…clippings from the garden. It’ll be objects from the house next.’

‘No room is safe…’

‘…not enough room stewards either.’

‘Private isn’t enough these days.’

‘…have to keep things under lock and key.’

‘QUIET!’ Richard bellowed and gave a huge sigh. ‘Clearly, something has to be done. I hadn’t realised the extent of the problem.’

Carys’s heart was racing. She’d been listened to - again. It was a small triumph but a triumph nonetheless.

As the meeting ended, Carys sprinted across the room to grab Richard before he could lose himself on the estate again.

‘Richard? Can I have a word?’

‘Can it wait?’

Carys desperately wanted to say,
Until when?
But thought better of it. ‘It’s your Aunt Violet. She’s sent another cheque.’

‘Tear it up.’

‘What?’

‘She doesn’t really have money to throw around like that. I don’t know why she keeps posting us these cheques. Just bin it. With that, he was gone.

‘She means well,’ Pearl Janson said.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Carys didn’t like her private conversations with her husband being listened to but she hadn’t had much choice in the matter if she’d wanted to speak to him.

‘Dear old Vi. She means well but, between you and me, she’s not all there.’

Carys frowned. Who was this poor old relative who’d been so cruelly dismissed by, it seemed, everyone at Amberley?

Mrs Travis was quick to provide Carys with the information she needed. ‘She doesn’t get out much, poor lady.’

‘She wasn’t at our wedding, was she?’ Carys asked, feeling awful that she couldn’t remember.

‘She was at the ceremony as she lives in the Cathedral Close but she doesn’t come to Amberley any more’

‘All the more reason that we should visit her,’ Carys said, thinking it terrible that an elderly relative had been left out in the cold as it were.

Mrs Travis scribbled the address and phone number down on the back of an old envelope and, putting everything else on hold, Carys made a quick call and left at once, driving into town and parking in her old road which was only a quarter of a mile from the cathedral.

Great Aunt Violet lived in one of the tall thin Georgian houses in Carminster’s Cathedral Close. It was one of the many properties dotted around the city that belonged to the Brettons. Most of them were rented out but there were still relatives of the family inhabiting a few and Great Aunt Violet had the most handsome of them all.

Immediately banishing her picture of a formidable matriarch with a heaving bosom and a stern demeanour, Carys thought of the friendly voice which had greeted her on the phone when she’d been asked over.

‘The door will be open so come on in. I’ll be in the living room on the first floor,’ a jovial voice told her and, when Carys arrived, she followed the instructions, walking up a red carpeted stairway where a plethora of black and white family photographs were hung. Were they all Brettons, Carys wondered?

‘Aunt Violet?’ Carys called.

‘In here, dear.’

Carys turned left at the top of the stairs and entered a gloriously light room with a huge picture window overlooking the cathedral.

‘Hello,’ she said, walking over to the great winged chair and bending to kiss the old lady’s powdered and rather scarlet cheek.

‘Hello, dear. How lovely to meet you at last.’

‘I can’t believe nobody’s told me about you before. You must think me awfully rude.’

‘Not at all. Not at all. There are rather a lot of us to cope with.’

Carys smiled and sat down in the chair opposite which Violet motioned to.

‘Now, let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re Henry Bretton’s aunt and Richard’s Great Aunt?’

‘That’s right,’ she said with a warm smile. ‘It’s all so complicated, isn’t it? Other people’s family trees. One’s own is bad enough but other people’s!’

‘I’m just about keeping up.’

‘I’m sure you are.’

‘I’d love to know more about everybody, though. They’re just names at the moment, you see. I’ve spent hours pouring over books and such but it’s always nice to get a proper feel for people.’

‘Well, I’m not sure if my memory will serve me when it comes to the history of the Brettons,’ she said, her dark eyes gazing upwards. But I can tell you about my own little branch of the family.’

Carys nodded and smiled.

‘It all began quite simply with my son, Robert. He married Antonia - a lovely girl but she did insist on moving to Canada where her family are from. I was very put out, of course, because I detest travelling, in any form, but most of all by aeroplane. And I hardly ever get to see my grandchildren.’

‘You have four, yes?’ Carys said, remembering her study of the family tree.

‘That’s right: Adam, Teresa, Madeleine and Alice. All grown up now. Adam and Alice have families of their own so I’m now a great-grandmother.’

‘That’s wonderful.’

‘Not so wonderful when they live on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.’

‘But they visit, don’t they?’

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.