Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Progress with the festival was steady, even though Winnie felt like a chicken running around with its head cut off, trying to accomplish all of her tasks and everyone else’s beside, all while dealing with money constraints as she fought to strategically save every pound of Mr. Wintour’s she could.
Fortunately, Jess was a massive help, renting rides, finding other food options, and being a positive influence on others. That is, when she wasn’t being forced to joust. Getting her on board with being an undercover female knight was taking a great deal of convincing, but Winnie continually put her faith in the woman.
Mrs. Birdwhistle and the teenage boys, too, were pulling their weight with the horses and tournament planning. But Mrs. Porter wouldn’t let go of her cabbage chowder, Mrs. Jones refused to hire more entertainment, and Mrs. Fogg couldn’t find tents to rent because she didn’t even know how to search for them on the internet. Furthermore, Mr. Fogg couldn’t animate his voice to save his life, and the knights didn’t hesitate to express their disapproval of a scripted event, jousting with Jess, and predetermined scoring.
Along with each individual and their very strong opinions, Winnie was also having to deal with last-minute cancellations of carnival games and hiring overly priced sideshows, all the while dealing with money constraints.
The only person she didn’t have to fight with, surprisingly enough, was the one person she’d expected to fight with the most—Matthew. He went along with each of her suggestions, never saying a word unless it was to encourage others to follow her ways.
The only reasonable explanation to his change in passion was that his spirit had been broken, her words having finally done the trick. Turns out, she was more like Dad than she thought.
She’d tried to apologize to Matthew for being brash, for not listening to him and agreeing to follow along with his plan at least to some degree, but due to her tight schedule and the time constraints laid on her—and her complete and utter humiliation at having to say sorry again—she had zero opportunity to do so.
Nearly a week after their meeting in the assembly hall, on a drizzly Sunday, Winnie spent the morning at church, then headed straight back to her room at Foxwood. She was glad for the weather and the nice excuse it was to remain indoors. She didn’t want to chance seeing Matthew at the park again, or his delightful family. They reminded her too much that she had to chat with her own family today.
Despite her best attempts to slow down time, the call eventually came. At first, she tried to remain in her room, but the rain must have lessened her cell service and the internet, as she was continuously kicked out of the chat due to poor connection. After the fifth time of attempting and failing to connect, Winnie debated on whether or not to bother trying again.
The option of a peaceful sabbath with no questions about her job and no comparisons between her life and her siblings’ was astonishingly tempting. But Dad would just end up calling Winnie for an update—or worse, he’d call Mr. Wintour to demand proper internet and better cell service for his daughter.
Winnie grimaced. It was better to try again, but this time, she’d go somewhere she knew she’d find success.
Grabbing her earbuds and laptop, she headed downstairs, having learned over the last week that the only reliable place for a stable internet connection was in the small dining area situated right off the kitchens.
Being two in the afternoon, she was fairly certain she’d receive enough privacy there. If not, she’d have the excuse not to speak. Either way, she’d get credit for trying.
Win-Win-Winnie.
Within a few minutes of arriving, she had established a secure connection to the video chat and sat on one of the benches behind a wooden table set aside for Foxwood’s staff.
“There she is,” Mom said with a smile.
Her siblings and parents shifted in fluid movements, as opposed to the jittery messes they were before.
“You got it working,” Spencer said.
“Yeah, finally,” Winnie said. “I just had to walk to the other side of the estate.”
Even though she was alone in the dining area and no sound came from the kitchens nearby, she attempted to put in her earbuds for an added measure of privacy. However, she realized all too late that she hadn’t charged them the night before.
Ah, well. It was worth it to listen to her latest audiobook, England’s Gardens: How to Transform Your Space to Work for You—and Earn for You.
Just another resource on how to help her figure out what more to do with Foxwood when the festival was over. If she proved her worth, that is.
“All right, Winnie,” Dad said, as if on cue. “You’re up.”
Winnie grimaced. What would she share this week? How she’d presented her plan to a group of individuals who had zero faith in any of her ideas? Or how she’d beaten up the heart of a man until he was devoid of passion for a project he’d created from the start?
“Have you made any progress with Foxwood yet?” Dad asked.
She stifled a sigh. She’d already told him she wasn’t over the dang estate. Why was that so difficult for him to accept?
“No,” she said, “but the festival has been coming along nicely.”
He didn’t respond. Winnie glanced to the window, rain dribbling down the glass, blurring most of her view. Too bad she couldn’t escape outside with the excuse of watching the knights practice their jousting astride their horses. That had been her favorite part of the job so far, observing both man and animal working hard, living their best lives as horse and rider.
That had once been Winnie, feeling that same satisfaction back when she used to ride. All before it had been snatched from her fingertips after a simple mistake.
“So what changes have you made?” Mom asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Winnie cleared her mind of her past, then mentioned a few of the alterations she’d made, but she didn’t go into more detail than that. Why bore everyone—and why disappoint Dad—any longer?
“Well, that sounds amazing,” Mom responded. “You seem to be doing a fabulous job.”
“Which is a good thing,” Spencer quipped. “If you want to keep any job, you have to prove that you’re good.”
“Which, of course, she will,” Sarah added.
Winnie sent a smile of gratitude to her sister which she knew Sarah would know was for her. Then Spencer’s words hit Winnie in a way she knew he hadn’t been intending.
Did she want to keep this job? Not specifically the job at Foxwood, but her job as a consultant altogether. She’d only ever kept it because Dad wanted her to, not because she enjoyed it.
The thought gnawed on her mind, just as Matthew’s words had about passion and heart, incessant and unyielding, like a rat chewing through a wall.
She’d lived in an apartment once that had housed a rat. She’d moved out of the complex the very next day—and she’d quit the teaching program soon after that.
She could still hear Dad’s words when he found out what she’d done. “You have a name to uphold, Winnie. Stop being a disappointment and start sticking to your commitments.”
That was the exact reason she couldn’t fail at Foxwood—nor quit the festival. And it was the exact reason she had to remain a consultant.
“How are the Wintours?” Dad asked. “Is working with them difficult?”
Winnie hesitated. “No, for the most part they’re great. I’m only struggling a bit with Matthew. He’s the?—”
The door opened, cutting off Winnie’s words. She looked up in surprise, expecting to be caught by one of the Wintours’ household, but when Matthew himself walked in, all broad-shouldered, bearded, and curly-haired, shock struck through her limbs and pulled her heart straight down to the floor.
Oh, boy, was she in trouble if he’d heard her.
Matthew remained standing still in the doorway, staring at Winnie in surprise. Obviously, he hadn’t expected to see her there, otherwise he would have never come in.
After his conversation with her in the assembly hall and her slamming down his request to keep history at the center of the event, he’d realized then and there that she didn’t really care about the festival. What she cared about was the money. And while that initial knowledge hurt, he had since learned to accept it. He couldn’t deny the woman’s tenacity and competence in being able to accomplish the tasks she’d set about. Her sheer determination was admirable, if not annoying. But ultimately, when her ideas would undoubtedly fail in the coming weeks, she’d have only herself to blame.
He took a step back from the room, ready to withdraw instead of being forced to carry on an obligatory cordial conversation with her, but when he took note of Winnie’s deer-in-the-headlights look, he paused.
She looked absolutely stunned. Embarrassed, even. As if…as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing.
Suddenly, he had the strong desire to stay and see just exactly what she was up to.
“Hey,” he said with a toss of his head, taking a step farther into the room.
Winnie didn’t respond, her eyes falling to her laptop, then back to him. He was interrupting whatever she was doing, but did she actually expect him to leave her alone when it was his home?
“Winnie?” A voice spoke from the laptop, and both of their eyes dropped to it.
“Is she there?” another voice asked.
“I think she’s frozen.”
“No, there was another voice. Didn’t you hear it?”
Realization struck Matthew. She was on a call. But with whom?
“Winnie are you there?” came yet another voice.
Finally, Winnie looked down at her laptop. “Yeah, I’m still here. Just a sec.”
“Winn—”
The voice was cut off mid-word as Winnie muted the conversation. She looked back up at Matthew expectantly, as if to ask what he was doing there.
He had a mind to ask her the very same question, but then, after the last week of maintaining his stellar silence on how she was ruining his festival, he wasn’t in the mood to get into an argument with her.
“I was just grabbing a bite to eat,” he said, pointing to the fridge. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No, of course not,” she said, glancing back down to her screen .
“I can come back when you’re finished if you’d like me to,” he offered, wondering if she’d accept his ridiculous suggestion.
Fortunately, she shook her head. “No, you’re totally fine. I was just talking to my family.”
Ah, her family. “Well, I’ll just be a minute.” He motioned to her laptop. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”
She hesitated. “Okay.”
He made his way across the room, feeling her eyes on him as he approached the fridge before Winnie unmuted her family.
“—I just don’t know how skiing is not the best option,” a female voice said loudly before coming down a few notches. “Ah, Winnie’s back!”
“Yeah, sorry,” Winnie said softly.
“We were just talking about our skiing trip again,” the woman continued. Her voice dropped in the middle of her sentence as Winnie lowered the volume of her laptop again.
She obviously wished for more privacy, but the kitchens were bare and quite echoey. Matthew could still hear their words as clear as day, but did Winnie know this?
A buzz in his pocket drew his attention to his phone, and he pulled it out, standing in front of the open fridge.
He wasn’t surprised to see more texts from his mates. They’d been messaging non-stop today, prepping for the coming weekend when they’d finally be together for the charity run—the charity run Matthew had yet to start really preparing for. He’d been too busy doing Winnie’s bidding for her version of his festival.
Finn
I hope you’ve got better accommodation for us this year, Matt. I don’t want to be sleeping in the servants’ quarters again.
Matthew smiled. The Irishman always teased him about his family’s wealth.
Matthew
Nope. I’ve got somewhere even better this year. It’s the dungeons for you.
Finn
Typical Englishman.
Matthew nearly laughed aloud. It was a good feeling, after the week he’d had. He only hoped that having his friends there for the weekend would be just the thing to boost his spirits for longer.
Matthew
All you commoners asked for it.
He sent the text, then smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see them. And truth be told, he was more than a little relieved that Winnie had canceled the festival while they were there. That would save Matthew more than a little embarrassment of having his friends witness how his event had fallen from grace over the last few years.
“So what were you saying before, Winnie?”
The voices from the computer reached Matthew’s ears again, and all other thoughts disappeared as he tucked his phone away and focused on finding the food he’d come in search of.
“Oh, I can’t really remember,” Winnie said.
Matthew moved aside the Branston Original Pickle jar, the plate of cherry tarts, and the Hartleys’ strawberry jam, looking for the block of extra sharp, cave-aged cheese from Cheddar.
“I remember what it was,” a younger female voice said. Her sister, perhaps? “You were saying the only difficult person was Ma?—”
“Oh, no,” Winnie said loudly, cutting her off. “No, I was done. Hey, Sarah, what happened to that guy you were dating? Troy or something?”
Matthew had to hide his smile at Winnie’s panicked diversion. Ducking farther into the fridge, he reached for the cream cheese with slow movements .
“Oh, I dumped him months ago,” this Sarah said. “He was so boring. Not an interesting bone in his body.”
“Not even his clavicle?” asked a male voice.
A bit of laughter sounded, and Matthew’s lips twitched. That had to have been a brother. How many siblings did she have?
Finally finding the cheese, he pulled out the block and set it on the counter, rooting around next for the Jacob’s Cream Crackers in the cupboards.
“No, for real,” Sarah continued. “You guys would have hated him. Anyway, that’s enough about me. Winnie, we haven’t heard nearly enough from you. Are you enjoying all the rain?”
“Yeah, I am,” Winnie said.
Was she always this tight-lipped around her family, or was it just because Matthew was there?
“And…” Sarah pressed, “how are the knights? Particularly the one who saved you?”
The silence in the room was deafening. Winnie’s eyes shot up to Matthew’s, but he continued moving between cupboards, feigning complete ignorance.
“Wait, who saved you?” an older woman said. That had to be Winnie’s mother. “And what did they save you from? Are you in danger, Winnie?”
The sound on the laptop lowered again. Once more, Matthew had to hide his smile.
“No, I’m not in danger, Mom,” Winnie said. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing, my foot,” Sarah continued.
How Matthew could still hear their words was beyond him, but he wasn’t about to complain. He reached for the crackers in the top cupboard as Sarah continued.
“She was rescued by a knight when she slid off the road. Winnie said he’s totally hot, too.”
The moment the words reached Matthew’s ears, he unwittingly released the package. It slipped from his fingertips, landing with a loud thud as the crackers no doubt crumbled to pieces inside. That was hardly any of his concern now, though, as pride welled within him.
So. Winnie thought he was hot , did she?
He retrieved a plate nearby, his back still turned to her as he placed the crackers and cheese onto the dish in a uniform fashion, all the while fighting off another broad smile. Was that all she’d said about him, or was there more?
Winnie didn’t respond to her sister’s words, and their voices lowered from the laptop until he was sure even Winnie couldn’t hear them.
“Rescued…road…”
Matthew didn’t care. He’d heard what he’d wanted to—something to boost his wounded ego. Something to finally give him the upper hand against Winnie Knox.
He couldn’t wait to use it to his advantage.
Piling the items he’d gathered onto his plate, Matthew turned to face Winnie with an innocent smile, her ruby-colored cheeks and dazed expression satisfying him to no end.
“Thanks for letting me interrupt,” he said louder than he probably should have.
Winnie gave a solitary, silent nod as he moved to the door with his food.
A quiet voice came from the laptop. “Wait, who…”
“No one,” Winnie said, speaking to her family with clipped words.
Matthew reached the door, balancing his food in one hand as he made to open it, hearing someone else speak.
“No…someone…”
“Hey! Who’s there?” shouted another so loudly, he could finally hear it.
He paused and turned toward Winnie.
“You can go,” she said with a shake of her head, her voice tight, like a rubber band stretched too thin.
He should give the woman a break, but her desperation to have him leave made him linger .
Besides, after the week he’d had of holding his tongue, letting go of his will, and practicing as much patience as he possibly could, Matthew deserved a win.
“Show us who it is, Winnie!” shouted the female voice again.
“No, he’s busy,” Winnie said, her expression mixed between an apology and a pleading for him to leave now.
Matthew should have, but his desire to one-up the woman won against his conscience.
“I’m not busy at all,” he said with another innocent look. “I can meet them.”
Then with an audacity he didn’t recognize, Matthew placed his plate on the counter and strode directly toward Winnie.
Her gray eyes widened in a panic. “You don’t have to.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t wish to be rude,” he said. He stopped directly in front of her with a focused gaze. “Besides, I’m sure they’d love to see who the most difficult person is for you to deal with here.”
Her blushing response was well worth whatever guilt Matthew might feel after this moment. Well worth it by a longshot.