7. Chapter Seven #2
“Good afternoon,” Colin said brightly. “I have an appointment with Lord Mambles this afternoon. I wonder if you might direct me to where I might find him?”
“Young Mr. Marcham!” The man stood up and shook Colin’s hand with great vigor.
“Good Lord! It’s Mr. Biggins!”
“A pleasure to see you again, sir. How are your brothers?”
“Well, thank you, and how about you?”
“Oh, me and the missus are almost retired now. I’m only helping out here while Lord Mambles looks for someone to take my place.”
“That’s the problem with being irreplaceable,” Colin said with a smile. “You’ll still be here when you’re ninety at this rate.”
Mabel could only admire Colin’s ability to get on with everyone despite his bad boy reputation. As a tech nerd she was so not good at communicating that she was in awe of his abilities.
“His lordship still has an apartment in the main house. I’ll take you over there.”
“Thank you.” Colin looked around as they exited the office. “What happened to the polo ponies?”
“Ah, well…”
Mabel hung back a little to appreciate the house as Colin and the estate manager got into the apparently fascinating subject of polo, how expensive it was, and how Lord Mambles had decided not to keep his own string, whatever that meant.
They entered the main house, and she looked around with interest. The house seemed to be in better condition than Marcham Hall, but after a crash course in the horrors of English country living, Mabel detected signs that there were likely troubles lurking beneath the surfaces.
As they travelled through corridors and various rooms, the floors dipped and meandered like an uneven hiking path and creaked for good measure. There were random stairs, turrets, and doors that appeared to lead nowhere, reminding Mabel of a fun house.
Mr. Biggins knocked loudly on a tall oak door with a faded brass handle and went inside.
“I found your guests, my lord. Here’s Mr. Colin and his young lady to see you.”
“Gosh!” A tall blond man whose hair looked like it had been cut around a bowl came rushing toward them. “Is that really you, Collywollykins?”
Mabel fought a smile. Ah, so that was his nickname.
“Yes indeed.” Colin reciprocated Bumpy’s enthusiastic handshake. “And this is my friend, Mabel Howard.”
Bumpy turned to Mabel. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He looked momentarily disconcerted. “Have we met before? I thought I knew all the Howard gels. Or are you one of the northern branches that never ventures down to London?”
“I’m from the long-lost Californian branch,” Mabel said as he vigorously shook her hand. “Went over in 1849 for the gold.”
“Oh! Makes total sense.” Bumpy nodded. “My great great uncle Cuthbert went out there, too. He was trying to escape from his awful wife, but the last the family heard he’d settled down very nicely in a place called Oregon with a new wife and had fifteen children.
Not that my great-great grandfather acknowledged them in the line of succession, but it did make for a very interesting family reunion in the 1960s.
Apparently there was fisticuffs and shots were fired. ”
He paused and beckoned to the woman standing by the fireplace. “Well, come and say hello, Frizzy, don’t be shy.”
The woman practically skipped forward, her smile bright.
She had that beautiful English skin Mabel envied and the slight build of a ballet dancer.
“How lovely!” She turned to Colin first. “Your brother Freddy once helped me out of a very tight spot when I was almost kidnapped by my billionaire boyfriend and dragged onto his yacht at Cowes.”
“Sounds just like Freddy.” Colin kissed her cheek. “I’ll be sure to tell him I saw you.”
Frizzy smiled at Mabel. “So, you’re American!”
“Yes.” Mabel smiled back and prepared herself for the usual questions, but Frizzy was already onto something else.
“Bumpy and I have been married for five years, and we have two adorable little munchkins up in the nursery wing.”
“How wonderful,” Colin said. “The line assured, so they say.” He looked around the impressive drawing room. “And a wonderful place to hand over to them.”
“That didn’t happen without a lot of hard work.” Bumpy gestured at the sitting area. “Would you both like some tea before we show you around? Freddy said you were wanting some advice.”
“I could certainly do with some pointers,” Colin agreed as he took a seat next to Mabel. “Marcham Hall’s in a terrible state.”
“So, I hear.” Bumpy sighed. “These places are the devil to maintain, but if one doesn’t make the effort how can one live with oneself?”
“That’s a good question.” Colin accepted a cup of tea from Frizzy, passed it over to Mabel, and took his own. “I’ve got to start with some fundamentals like redoing the roof, the plumbing, and the electricals, but I also need some way to earn money to pay for all those things.”
“We were in the same boat.” Frizzy set the teapot down. “Daddy gave us some help to get started, but dear Bumpy has turned out to be something of a whiz at fundraising.” She beamed at her husband who looked endearingly modest. “Don’t be shy, darling. You deserve all the praise.”
“I merely asked around, pumpkin, and found an awful lot of people were more than willing to lend me money and help out.”
“Really?” Colin tried not to sound skeptical. “People just… offered up money?”
“Bumpy and I know a lot of football players,” Frizzy explained. “He’s on a lot of boards.”
“Football players who were interested in preserving the heritage of the British aristocracy?” Colin asked.
Frizzy and Bumpy laughed uproariously.
“I know, it does sound rather silly, doesn’t it?
But they all love Bumpy so much that they were willing to help him.
We also promised to hold functions here for anyone who invested, and we always keep rooms available for them if needed.
” Frizzy lowered her voice. “I think some of them like to come here because it is very private, and they can avoid the press.”
“That makes sense, but I’m afraid I can’t boast a single football player in my address book. I’ll have to find another source of finance.” Colin set his cup down. “Did you investigate any of the charities or foundations who offer financial investment?”
Bumpy looked at Frizzy. “We did talk to a couple, and they were excellent at recommending good people to work on the house. Like you, we wanted to make sure that we kept the spirit of the place intact while we modernized.”
“You should give him Gavin Arkenden-Smith’s number.” Frizzy nudged Bumpy. “He was extremely helpful.”
“At what exactly?” Colin asked.
“Finding craftspeople to work on the house. You wouldn’t believe how many things needed restoring.
” Frizzy started counting off her fingers.
“Fabrics, wall hangings, floorboards, tapestries, glasswork, artwork—you name it, we had to have someone in to assess it, come up with a plan, and carry out the work. We’re six years in and we haven’t completed the half of it! ”
Colin started to feel slightly depressed as his hosts merrily chuckled away.
“This place looks amazing now,” Mabel said politely from beside him. “But it would be really helpful if you could share what you chose to work on first so that Colin has some idea where to start.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” Frizzy smiled warmly. “Well, it all started in the attics.” She rose to her feet. “Would you like to come upstairs and see what we had to deal with in the roof space?”
“I suddenly remembered who Frizzy’s father is,” Colin remarked as they drove back down the drive through the setting sun.
“Who?”
“He owns one of the premier league football clubs and is a bazillionaire. Made his money in beer and then moved onto investing.”
“Ha! Then comparing their situation to yours isn’t fair,” Mabel said.
“It certainly is not,” Colin agreed. “No wonder bloody Bumpy just has to hold out his hand and money pours into it.”
“They were very nice. And their kids are adorable.”
“Yes, they are.” Colin sighed as he negotiated the turn out of the gates. “I’m just being crabby. I don’t suppose you know any footballers back in California?”
To his surprise she didn’t laugh or answer him immediately.
“You do?” Colin asked. “And you just don’t want to share their names with me in case I bankrupt them? Very wise of you, Howard.”
“I know a couple of players who invest in tech companies.” She hesitated. “And I do know some good venture capitalists, but I’m not sure if they’d be willing to invest in an English country estate.”
He patted her knee. “It’s okay. I was only joking. Bumpy did have some good ideas to share amongst all that deluge of available funding. I don’t regret hearing what he had to say, and I don’t really expect you to come up with the funding for my family home.”
“I could—”
He spoke over her. “No, you couldn’t. This is my problem and it’s up to me to fix it. I’ll start contacting the various conservation charities tomorrow and see where we stand. I’ll also put on my best suit and pay a visit to our bank in London.”
“Why do you have to go all the way to London? Don’t they do online banking?”
“Not these guys, and not for this kind of serious money loan.” Colin stopped at the crossroads and peered up at the sign. “Left or right?”
“How the heck would I know, Collywollykins?” Mabel asked.
Colin made an executive decision. “Let’s go left and if we get lost, we can find a pub, have dinner, get our bearings, and find our way home later.”