5. Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
“Ah, Colin, my dear boy. How are you?”
Edward Deville stuck out his hand and enthusiastically shook Colin’s hand.
They were in his father’s extensive library but there was no sign of the earl even though it was now past four o’clock.
Colin had left Mabel sleeping in his bed flushed and rosy from her exertions with him.
He’d felt far more positive coming into the house.
Perhaps her can do nature was rubbing off on him.
“Very well, thanks, and you?”
“Almost ready to retire and leave my business in the very competent hands of my daughter, Olivia.” Edward indicated the woman who was setting up her laptop on the desk. “Olivia? Come and reacquaint yourself with Colin.”
“How could I ever forget him?” Olivia came over carrying her laptop and grinned at Colin. She had blond hair drawn back from her face in an elegant French pleat, brown eyes, and her father’s pleasant smile. “He once pushed me off the top of a stack of hay bales at the home farm.”
“Did I?” Colin grimaced. “I’m terribly sorry about that.”
“Still have the scar on my head to prove it,” Olivia said cheerfully. “Seeing as you spend so much time in America these days, you’d probably be able to advise me. Can I still sue you?”
“Not my area of expertise, unfortunately.” Colin smiled back. “You’re the lawyer.”
“That’s correct.” As her father moved away to open his briefcase Olivia lowered her voice. “And it seems I’m going to be your legal contact for the estate in the near future.”
“That bad, is it?”
“Put it this way. I’ll be surprised if I ever get paid,” Olivia murmured.
Colin groaned and then straightened up as his father came in, leaning heavily on his cane.
His hair was striped with grey, and his once luxuriant moustache was a shadow of its former self.
He wore his favorite tweed trousers and jacket with leather patches on the elbows, an immaculately starched shirt, and his regimental tie.
“Ah, good you’re all here.” The earl turned to Freddy who had accompanied him into the room. “Off you go now, boy. This has nothing to do with you.”
Even as Colin winced at his father’s dismissive tone, Freddy locked eyes with him, gave him the finger, and turned smartly on his heel.
“Your brother is very pretty,” Olivia murmured.
“Is he? I can’t say I’ve noticed. He’s generally a giant arse around me.”
“He’s probably jealous.” Olivia refreshed her laptop screen. “Although, if he knew what I know, he’d probably be thanking the gods he’s not the heir.”
“Are you sure your name isn’t Cassandra?” Colin asked.
Olivia chuckled and pointed at the chair set beside his father’s. “Go and sit down and behave yourself.”
Colin took his designated seat and turned to his father. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“I hear you’ve brought some American home with you.”
“Yes, I got her in a gift shop at the airport. She’s very cute.”
“Are you involved with her?”
Colin sat back and studied his father. “With all due respect, what does that have to do with you?”
“You’re my heir. Marrying the right kind of woman might be the making of you.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Colin said heartily. “But who’s to say Mabel isn’t that woman? It’s not like this family haven’t made a habit of marrying Americans.”
“That was several generations ago and those women were heiresses,” the earl said stiffly. “I doubt the same logic applies to some girl you met at the airport.”
“I didn’t actually meet her at the—”
“And I doubt she’s worth any money.”
“Careful, Father, your mercenary side is showing,” Colin said softly. “And, for the record, you have no right to interfere in my personal life.” He gestured toward the desk. “Now perhaps we should listen to your solicitor.”
Two hours later, Colin was still sitting in the library staring at the now empty desk.
Before she’d left, Olivia had given him a sympathetic hug, and her business card, which he was still clutching in his fingers.
His father had departed on Edward’s arm, the aura of defeat in the slump of his shoulders and his bowed head.
He hadn’t even bothered to talk to Colin as the bad news rolled over them both, offering neither excuses nor condolences for the appalling state of the family finances.
There was a gentle tap on the half-open door and Mabel looked in. “Are you okay?”
Colin shook his head.
She came in and closed the door behind her. “That bad?”
“Worse.” He shot to his feet and began to pace the threadbare carpet as Mabel took his vacated seat. She beckoned for him to continue. “I thought I’d already seen all the accounts but apparently, I only saw the ‘good’ ones.”
“You might as well let it all out. I’m certainly not going to tell anyone.”
He swung around to look at her. “I don’t even know where to start. The absolute and compete fustercluck of incompetence, mismanagement, and damned near delusional magical thinking is hard to fathom!”
“Okay.”
“The thing is, it’s not bloody okay, and I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to fix it!”
“I hear you.” She nodded.
“And my father had the audacity to sit there and tell me it’s my problem now, and how much he’s looking forward to not having to worry about anything in his golden years while I run myself into the ground trying to fix his appalling mistakes.”
“That really sucks.”
He stopped beside her chair and scowled at her. “Is this supposed to be helping?”
“Not really. I’m kind of channelling my therapist right now. She never actually answers a direct question and just makes soothing noises until I run out of things to beat myself up about. But I bet getting it all off your chest is helping you.”
He sank down beside her and took her hands in his. “I’m so totally and one hundred percent screwed here, Mabel. Everything in me is telling me run back to America, start a new life, and forget all about this place.”
“There’s nothing stopping you,” she pointed out. “You could tell your father you’ll do everything in your power to save the estate and never actually do a thing.” She shrugged. “What’s he going to do about it? He’s hardly in a position to argue.”
“You’re right,” Colin said slowly. “All I’d have to do is make some noise about big plans, show him some paperwork, maybe fix the bloody drains, and call it done.”
“See?” She raised her eyebrows. “Easy.”
“Except it isn’t, because somehow I’ll also have to support the rest of the family.”
“Why?” she asked and looked genuinely perplexed.
“Because that’s the way it’s always been done. If one gets everything because of the stupid rule of primogeniture, one is morally obliged to support everyone who didn’t get a fair cut.”
“That is stupid. I mean, how many family members are we talking about here?”
Colin mentally reviewed his sprawling family tree.
“About forty or so? And then there are retired employees who still live on the various estates—we can’t forget them, and everyone still employed at the various properties.
And…” He clutched at his head. “It just gets worse the longer I think about it.”
“You can’t be the only person stuck in this predicament,” Mabel said. “What does everyone else do?”
“Throw in the towel?” Colin suggested as he rose to his feet. “Run off to America with an enticing Californian called Mabel and live on the beach for the rest of their lives?”
Her gaze became thoughtful. “I suppose you might if you were a quitter.”
He blinked at her. “Hey, I thought you were on my side.”
“I am, and for some reason, I just can’t imagine you ever abandoning all this.”
Colin sat beside her again. “Your kind but entirely misplaced good opinion of me is noted, appreciated, and ignored.”
She smiled at him. “You told me you’d changed—that you had to come home to face the music. Was that a lie?”
“No.” He held her gaze. “I’ve definitely changed.
But I guess part of me thought I could come back here, talk to the solicitors, and tie everything up in a neat parcel with a bow.
But it doesn’t work like that. I can’t sell the place.
I can’t even sell off its assets or any land without basically taking myself to court. ”
“That’s hard,” Mabel agreed.
“I was hoping, if I could do any of that, then I’d make sure my father was taken care of for the rest of his life and that was all that mattered.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “But now I’m stuck here worrying about the whole damned mess.”
She took his hand. “Okay, now that you’ve said your piece and let it all out, what are you going to do to save the estate?”
Colin opened and closed his mouth about three times before summoning the ability to speak.
“Did you not hear a word I just said, Mabel? Where the hell am I supposed to even start?”
Mabel smiled encouragingly at Colin. “That’s a really good question. If it were me, I’d probably round up the family and tell them the truth about the state of things.”
“Then they’ll all hate me,” Colin complained.
“They’ve got to hear it from someone, and they’re going to hate you anyway when things start to change.”
“True.” He nodded. “Might as well piss them all off right away so they don’t get their hopes up.”
“I think it will be a shock to learn how bad things are, but I bet they’ll all feel better knowing,” Mabel said encouragingly.
“Not necessarily. You’ve met my grandmother,” Colin reminded her. “She’s not going to like this at all.” He stood up. “Let’s go and walk in the rose garden while we talk this through. Much less chance of being overheard.”
The rose garden was about the same dimensions as Mabel’s apartment block in San Jose and way prettier.
The scent of roses washed over her as they walked along a gravel path between the beds.
She paused occasionally to smell a particularly alluring bloom as Colin tried to remember the name of each variety.
At the end of the garden, Mabel got her first good look at the rear of the house, which was much less uniform than the front.
Colin pointed out each addition to the medieval priory that had been handed over to a grateful member of the Marcham family after the dissolution of the monasteries.
“Of course, the last person to have the money to do any significant building was my great grandfather who married an American railway heiress. Thank the lord she had a somewhat practical turn of mind and added heating, the occasional bathroom, and a decent conservatory on the sunny side of the house.”
Mabel glanced over at him. He’d undone the top button of his checked shirt and looked slightly less panic-stricken than he had in the library. Coming outside and talking about the good points of the amazing house had cheered him up.
“She replaced the roof as well. Not personally, obviously, but it needs redoing again.” Colin sighed. “I can’t even imagine how much that’s going to cost, but it’s a priority along with the Victorian plumbing.”
“You must be able to get bank loans for that kind of thing.”
“Now that I’m apparently in control of the family finances I’ll definitely have to look into that.”
“And grants.”
He looked interested. “Yes, I suppose there might be some public money out there to help renovate this old pile.”
She reached for his hand. “We can research all that this evening and then have a family meeting tomorrow to lay out your plans.” She paused. “I mean you can hold a meeting. I don’t even have to be there.”
He brought her fingers to his lips and lightly kissed them. “Seeing as you’re the person goading me into trying to save this place, you’d better be prepared to be right by my side. After my family hear the bad news, I might need some protection to stay alive.”
“I’ll protect you. I have a black belt in karate.”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “I think I’d quite like to see you body slam my brother Freddy to the floor.”
She winked at him. “Keep on my good side and you never know.”
They walked back to the dower house hand in hand and Colin immediately put the kettle on as Mabel dealt with the coffee.
“Does this house have its own address or is it considered part of Marcham Hall?” she asked.
“It’s a separate entity, why?”
“Because I’d like to get one of those coffee pod machines and I need a delivery address.” Mabel got out her newly linked up phone and looked at him inquiringly.
“It’s The Dower House, Marcham Hall, Marcham Lane, Marcham CM32 9ZX.”
Mabel chuckled. “That sure is a lot of Marchams.”
“That’s because the village was named after the hall. Imagine what it reads like when you add your family name on top of that lot. People look at you like you’re making it up.”
“I bet.” Mabel skimmed through listings for coffee machines as they talked. “Anything else you need while I’m ordering this?”
“Twenty thousand slate tiles and ten miles of sewage pipes?”
“Hmm… For some reason, they don’t seem to have any of those on the ’Zon. But they do have Oreos.”
“Which aren’t as good as a nice custard cream.”
“Says who?” Mabel placed her order and turned back to Colin.
He sighed and shook his head. “Everyone who lives in the UK.”
“Which isn’t as many as everyone in the USA, so we win. Double Stuff Oreos rule.”
After the coffee brewed, she poured herself a cup and headed into the sunny front room, her laptop tucked under her arm.
On her phone, she’d noticed at least thirty email notifications from various members of her team.
She was choosing to ignore them. She’d told them she’d be unavailable for at least a month, and it was irritating that they hadn’t believed her or thought she’d simply make time to reply.
Even a week away from Silicon Valley was making her question her life choices.
She didn’t need to work twenty-four hours a day, and she refused to let them make her think she did.
Colin came in with his tea and a packet of biscuits he set on the table between them.
“Help yourself.”
She fake-sighed as she noted they were chocolate-bourbons. “That’s the best you can do as an imitation Oreo?”
“Yup.” He took one out and dunked it straight in his tea. “Perfect.”
“At least I now understand why British biscuits are always hard and boring,” Mabel murmured. “They’re designed to withstand the rigors of being drowned in tea.”
“Not all of them,” Colin objected. “What about a nice Jaffa cake?”
Mabel looked up from her laptop. “You dunk cake in there, too?”
“Not exactly.” Colin met her gaze. “You probably don’t want a lecture on why Jaffa cakes are really biscuits, do you?”
“No, thank you.” Mabel offered him a sweet smile. “I’d much rather help you put together some kind of rescue plan for your lovely home.”
Colin sighed. “I knew you were going to say that. Now where would be a good place to start?”