Chapter Sixteen
Henry did up the buttons of his charcoal blazer, flexed his arms and pulled his shirt cuffs down to just below the line of his tailored sleeves.
He rubbed his finger over his cuff links, engraved with the Bramlington family crest, and swallowed.
It had been a long day; visiting each of the estate’s tenants was taking its toll.
All were sympathetic about his father’s death and wanted to share their memories of the man they considered a friend.
Having been under the watchful gaze of his ancestors — immortalised in oil on canvas — as he had grown up, Henry dreaded and feared the responsibility of the expectations placed upon him by birth.
Learning the extent to which his father had let the estate slip towards financial ruin, had, at first, felt a relief.
From a distance of over five-thousand miles, the solution had seemed simple.
Being home, his perspective had changed; seeing Ava and reconnecting with the estate meant the reality of all that was at stake had become starkly evident.
Henry decided that taking the flak for the forthcoming rent increases — intended as phase one of his newly established plan to save the estate — was preferable to marring the memory of the man so many, himself included, held in esteem.
Aware he had run away and turned his back on his responsibilities when his father needed him, Henry had promised he would do all he could to reverse the fortunes of Dapplebury House and its estate.
As he saw the peace his presence and words brought to his father’s final moments, Henry determined if his actions were too little, too late, he would be the one to go down in the tomes of history as the man who led the estate into ruin.
He had been willing to do that when he had been foolish enough to hatch plans to sell, so why not now, for better reasons?
Since being back, he had realised he was ready to take on the responsibilities that he should have done long ago.
The knowledge that had he stayed, he might have eased his father’s burden in his final years would always remain with him.
Preserving his father’s memory was paramount. He owed him that.
While Henry hoped reflecting on the past and looking towards the future with those he had met, might lay the foundation for greater acceptance of the necessary rent increases soon to come, he was under no illusion that the people of Dapplebury would accept the reality quietly.
That knowledge did nothing to make his day any easier, and neither had the watchful gaze of his late father’s personal assistant, who insisted on accompanying him as he visited Dapplebury’s tenants.
Henry always knew he would inherit his father’s title and the estate, but Mrs Jenkins, who had assumed the role of his PA, came as a surprise.
A well-presented woman in her late fifties, she possessed a stealth-like ability to move around Dapplebury House in silence, unnerving Henry with her frequently unexpected appearance at his side.
Leaving All Critters Great and Small to last on the list had been intentional.
Ava filled his thoughts on many occasions over the previous weeks.
He had frequently taken his run at sunrise in the hope she would be on the path towards the lake, but she’d not appeared.
Granger stayed around Dapplebury House, not taking off into the grounds, and so Henry resigned himself to the knowledge she and Myrtle had stayed away.
Knowing he was going to see her imminently caused nerves to twist in his already knotted stomach.
He wished he could have spoken to her privately before this day.
But with so much to organise, to understand and take on, the time had slipped by.
He had wanted to forewarn her that to save Dapplebury, the village would be facing difficult times ahead, when he had seen her at the lake, but the importance of the conversation and the opportunity had disappeared with Ted’s arrival.
Aware that dismissing Mrs Jenkins before they visited everyone on the detailed list she’d produced would cause questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, Henry found himself heading into the charity shop, his PA at his side.
Recognising Flo, he offered a smile.
‘Ted’s nephew, my Aunt Fanny!’
Seemingly unaware that her opening expression caused the customers in the shop to turn and Mrs Jenkins to recoil, Flo continued, ‘Look at you, all cleaned up and looking every bit as handsome as your father. You know you could have told me. I’m the soul of discretion!
’ Flo tapped the side of her nose with her finger.
Sure that wasn’t true, Henry couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Thank you.’ He liked Flo and felt he owed her an explanation. ‘I’m sorry about before.’
‘No problem’ — Flo winked — ‘I’ve seen that programme Undercover Boss. I know how it works.’
Henry walked to the counter, a quizzical expression on his face as he looked at Flo.
‘You know when those in high places go undercover to assess those who are at grassroots. Was I being filmed? Did I do OK? Thank goodness I asked if you were a Gift Aider!’
Mrs Jenkins coughed, raising her eyebrows above the rim of her glasses.
Deciding it was best not to explain, Henry returned his attention to Flo. ‘No, no. I had just been away for so long I thought I should check out the village. But today I’m here on official business.’
‘Yes, of course, I should have known. I was sorry to hear about Lord Bramlington — we all were. He was a good ’un, and he’ll be sorely missed. We prayed for him at Sunday service when we heard.’
Henry swallowed. ‘Thank you, my mother and I appreciate everyone’s kindness.’ He had said the words so many times they felt as if they were on repeat.
‘And how is Lady Jayne, I mean, Lady Bramlington? You could tell love had grown from fondness with those two. If only the same could have been said for Charles and Di.’
Henry had no idea what Flo was alluding to but imagined she was a woman who could spend hours conversationally meandering through a maze of tangents.
‘She is greatly saddened, of course, but taking comfort from the tributes she has received.’
Flo went to speak, but Henry continued, ‘Is Miss Flynn here, today?’ Instantly he wished he hadn’t added today as it made it seem he’d noticed her absence before.
‘She’s—’ Flo stopped and motioned for Henry to move aside while she served a customer who was purchasing a card.
Left in suspense, Henry glanced at Mrs Jenkins, who was checking her watch. Seizing the opportunity, Henry smiled. ‘It’s got late. If you’d like to go, please do. I’m sure you have places to be.’ He had no idea what places; Mrs Jenkins was a closed book to him, beyond her work as a PA.
‘No, I’ll—’
‘Really. It’s fine. Take the car. I’ll walk back. It’s been a long day, and I’d like the air.’ And a moment to breathe without the scrutiny of a PA, the driver she insisted they used for official estate business, and half the village.
‘If you’re sure, Your Lord—’
‘Of course, and please, call me Henry.’
‘Yes, Your Lordship.’
Henry sighed, and moved back to the counter as the customer — card in hand — followed Mrs Jenkins through the door.
Flo looked at Henry. ‘She’s out the back, getting through some of the stock mountain.’ Flo smiled before waving her hand towards the back-room door. ‘Go on. You know the way.’
As Henry walked towards the door, his head felt light at the prospect of seeing Ava.
‘Oh, and Your Lordship.’
‘It’s Henry, please.’ He turned back to Flo, his cheeks reddened at the formality in the mention of his title.
‘Oo right oh then, Henry it is.’ Flo chuckled. ‘I just wanted to say — you look so much better without that disguise.’
Not having the heart to tell her that the beard, collar-length hair, and clothes had all been his own, Henry nodded his thanks and smiled.
As he walked through the door and along the corridor, still brimming with stock, he could hear Ed Sheeran playing on the radio, and Ava humming along.
When she came into view, he took a fortifying breath before speaking.
‘Hello.’
Ava dropped the bag of donations she was holding and swung round. ‘Henry! Sir? Lord? Oh, bugger! Which is it? Sorry. I never expected . . . and you look . . . you look so shiny and . . . posh!’
Henry laughed out loud, as Ava’s cheeks coloured. He liked the fact, being a redhead, she could never disguise her blushes as they spread over her naturally pale skin.
‘Good posh or bad posh?’ Henry rubbed his hand round his clean-shaven chin.
Ava looked at him, appearing to ponder the question. ‘Good, definitely good.’ She smiled before seeming to correct herself with a frown. ‘I was very sorry to hear about your dad. This must be a very difficult time.’
‘Yes. Thank you . . .’ About to go into his well-rehearsed response, Henry breathed.
This was Ava, he didn’t want to pretend to be anyone but himself with her, and he certainly didn’t want her to feel she needed to treat him differently.
‘It’s . . . it’s been bloody awful, to be honest. But you know that.
’ He gestured to the newspaper clipping regarding Ava’s mum that he had seen on the noticeboard on his previous visit, before continuing.
‘You’ve lost your mum.’ He saw the flicker of sadness in Ava’s eyes and wanted her to know he understood.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I know . . . well, I know no matter what, it hurts.
’ He pulled at his tie, sliding the knot down and opening his top button before pushing his hand through his hair.
Fixing her gaze in his direction, Ava walked towards him, making his heart thud against his chest. His mind jumped to places he realised she never intended, as she leaned around him to take a reel of price labels from the shelf behind him.
He let out a breath and wondered if she noticed.
Labels in hand, Ava hesitated in front of him.
‘Did you come here to talk about the loss of our parents and how sad that is?’ She looked at him, the question reflected in her eyes.
Henry inhaled her fresh, clean scent — orange and bergamot — her proximity making him think about all kinds of things that had nothing to do with a sensible conversation, parents or responsibilities. ‘No.’ He looked at her full red lips, wishing he had got to kiss them more than that once.
‘Good! So how would you feel about getting out of here? I need to check on Myrtle and, if she seems up to it, I was going to take her for a walk in’ — Ava offered a hesitant smile, chewing her lip a little before finishing her sentence — ‘your woods?’
Henry laughed, releasing the tension from his body. ‘That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard in a long time!’
Ava looked at him. He had forgotten how her eyes lit up as she smiled.
‘I’m so pleased you said that because if you’d opted to stay and talk instead of going for a walk, I’d have had to put you to work on some of this.
’ She gestured to the pile of random items on the sorting table, before heading towards the office, scribbling a note, and taking her jacket from the coat stand.
Henry walked to the table. ‘I’m not sure I’d be much good to you here. Sorting things at Dapplebury House is enough of a headache.’
‘Don’t you have help?’ Ava returned from the office pulling her scarf from her pocket and circling it around her neck.
‘Hmm my mother, and the enigma that is Mrs Jenkins.’
‘Mrs Jenkins?’ Ava asked, turning off the clothes steamer and the radio.
‘Yes, my inherited PA. In fact, if you’ve got a bell I can attach to her, or some clogs I can give her, you’d be doing me a — BLOODY HELL! Mrs Jenkins, how long have you been standing there?’
Henry jumped, his heart hitting the back of his throat, as he registered the woman in the doorway as if he’d conjured her with the mere mention of her name.
Apparently unperturbed by the fact she’d almost given him a heart attack, Mrs Jenkins looked between Henry and Ava, suspicion in her steely eyes, as she opened her black patent, snap-top handbag, took out a cloth, removed her glasses and wiped them.
‘I neglected to remind you. Ms Flynn is, of course, the tenant of two properties on the estate — this shop, and the land and buildings they call Critters’ Lodge.’
‘Yes, thank you. I am aware of that.’ Henry offered a tight smile and a nod, curtly dismissing Mrs Jenkins who he half expected to disappear in a puff of smoke, opposed to turning on her heels and walking back along the corridor towards the shop.
Ava grimaced and put her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle a giggle she couldn’t hold back.
Her laughter was infectious and made Henry feel more relaxed than he had since returning to England.
There would be a time to talk rent increases — that had to be done.
But all he could think about was having some time alone with Ava.
He hadn’t lied when he said her suggestion of a walk was the best he had heard in a long time.
And he didn’t want anything to spoil that.