7. Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Viz.”
Colin looked up to see Freddy coming into what he still thought of as his father’s study. The thought had obviously occurred to his brother, too as he paused on the worn rug in front of the massive mahogany desk.
“You look weird sitting there.”
“I feel weird.” Colin put down his pen. “I’m way more used to being on the other side of the desk being told off for something.” He gestured at the massive leather-bound book on his right. “I’m only here because I didn’t want to lug this monster all the way back to the dower house in the rain.”
“Makes sense.” Freddy stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at his wellies.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Colin asked.
“Well, for starters, how’s Father doing?”
“You could go upstairs and find that out for yourself,” Colin suggested. “I saw him earlier to ask permission to work in here, and he’s doing fine, sleeping well, and not to be bothered by all the plans I’m currently making.
“He doesn’t want to deal with me.” Freddy frowned. “He said to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“The home farm.”
“Oh yes! You said you’d check into that for me.” Colin searched for his master list. “I thought it was leased out.”
“It is. By the Murrays.” Freddy finally sat down, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. “I wanted to ask Father what he thought we should do, but he wouldn’t discuss it. He said all decisions are yours to make now.”
“I didn’t ask him to say that.” Colin made sure to look his brother right in the eye. “He really doesn’t want to be involved right now.”
“I get that.”
Freddy lapsed into silence and Colin gently moved his foot away from his father’s Labrador who had fallen asleep on his toes. As their father’s favorite living child, Freddy probably wasn’t used to having his concerns punted to his brother.
“What’s the problem? Are they not good tenants?” Colin eventually asked. “They pay their rent on time, and from what I can see the place looks in good nick.”
“Yes, but I was hoping I’d get a chance to run it myself.” Freddy looked expectantly at Colin. “Like as an experiment in reviving local agriculture—you know, farm to table and all that stuff.”
“How long is the Murrays’ lease?”
“Two more years to go,” Freddy said. “But I have talked to them about my ideas. and Neil, the oldest son, is very interested in trying out the concept.”
“So, what’s the problem if you both want to try it?”
“Money. We can’t afford to implement the necessary changes. If we want to be organically certified, we’d need to clear and clean up the fields and the stream that runs through the place. It’s a lot of work and it takes years.”
Colin considered his brother’s hopeful expression. It was the first time he’d seen him so animated without a side of sarcasm, and he was loathe to disappoint him.
“How about you work up a proposal for making the farm organic and give it to me to take a look?” Colin asked.
“You’d be okay with that?” Freddy raised an eyebrow.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re currently trying to force all our relatives to get jobs in the exciting world of fast-food delivery to rake in some cash?”
“But this is a long-term project that will benefit the estate, as opposed to a whole group of entitled people who have never bothered to work a day in their lives.” Colin held Freddy’s gaze.
“I want this place to succeed. I want something we can hand down to the next generation and be proud of. A self-sustaining organic home farm supplying the house and local community sounds like a great investment in the future to me.”
Freddy stood up. “Now all we need is some cash.”
“Yes.” Colin groaned.
“Have you asked Mabel to help out?”
Colin’s faint smile disappeared. “I haven’t asked her, although she has already offered. And, by the way, she has no obligation to help me with anything.”
“She’s in love with you.”
“All the more reason for me not to mess that up by asking for money.” Colin said.
Freddy studied him carefully. “Didn’t you google her when you met?”
“Why would I need to do that? I know who she is and what she does. She still doesn’t owe me a thing.”
Freddy went toward the door and two of the dogs got up to follow him. “Your loss, Viz. But if she offers again, you really should take her up on it.”
“The only way I would ask her for money was if someone kidnapped you and I needed to make them keep you for good.”
Freddy grinned. “Nice one, bro.” he stood up. “By the way, do you remember Bumpy Haywicks from school?”
“Blond, rich, a head full of straw, but surprisingly good at cricket?”
“That’s the one. His place, Mambles, is about ten miles north of here. When he inherited it from his father a few years ago it was a complete disaster. I called him this morning, and he said if you wanted to pop over this afternoon and see how he’s been doing, he’d be delighted to show you.”
“What happened to his father?”
“He got stuck upside down getting off a ski lift in the French Alps, banged his head on something, went into a coma and never recovered.” Freddy shook his head. “Apparently, he went around a couple of times before they could untie his boots and get him off.”
Colin shuddered. “What a way to go.”
“Bumpy’s mother lives in Spain now with the head gardener.”
“Good for her.”
“So, do you want me to call him back and say you’re coming?”
Colin considered leaving the mammoth task of steering Marcham Hall into the future for an afternoon off and nodded. “Yes, why not. I could do with some hope.”
“Where exactly are we going?”
Mabel flinched as another car hurtled past them on the other side of the road, a scant inch from her side mirror. There were six-foot-high hedges on either side of them, and she doubted her truck would fit in the space, let alone be able to drive with other cars on the road.
“Mambles.”
“Sounds like something you eat.”
“It’s the home of an old school chum of mine from Eton.”
“Eton,” Mabel repeated.
Colin glanced over at her as he dexterously steered the car with one hand, and a confidence Mabel could only hope wasn’t misplaced.
“What about it?”
“Was it nice?”
“Not particularly.”
“Did they beat you?”
“Only if we did something really stupid like set a laboratory on fire or something.”
“You set a lab on fire? What were you doing? Cooking meth?”
He grinned. “Hardly. I think we were trying to make gold.”
“Alchemy.”
“That’s right. I wish I’d managed it.” Colin paused momentarily to glance across a narrow intersection and then shot across it at a speed Mabel could only consider ill-advised.
She felt like they were in the middle of a confusing, green-hedged maze.
“There should be a sign soon, so keep an eye out for it.”
“A sign for what?”
“The house. Bumpy said you can’t miss it.”
“The guy who owns the house is called Bumpy?”
“His last name is Haywicks.”
Mabel grabbed the roof handle as they veered to the left. “What does that have to do with it?”
Colin frowned. “I think it was some play on bumpy hayrides or something. I can’t quite remember.”
“Does everyone who lives in a big house and went to Eton have a stupid nickname?”
“Pretty much.”
“What was yours?” Mabel asked.
He grinned at her. “Not telling.”
“Is it embarrassing?”
He slowed momentarily to peer up at a faded white signpost with black lettering. “It says one mile to the village and the entrance to the house is before that, so keep your eyes peeled for the gatehouse fairly soon.”
As it turned out, Bumpy had been right and it was hard to miss the entranceway. A red brick gatehouse adorned with white painted hangings like icicles bore a large sign on the wall.
WELCOME TO MAMBLES.
OPEN TO THE PUBLIC APRIL-SEPTEMBER. 10 A.M. TO 5 P.M.
HOUSE TOURS, WEDDINGS, GIFT SHOP, CAFé AND EXTENSIVE GROUNDS.
“This is definitely the place.” Colin indicated right and swept up the long-graveled drive. “I see Bumpy’s lost a lot of his elm trees just like we did.”
“Dutch elm disease.” Mabel was glad she knew what that was and didn’t have to ask another question.
“That’s right, and the Great Storm of 1987.”
She had no idea what that was but decided to take his word for it. As they proceeded up the drive there were a number of signs pointing out the various attractions, where the bathrooms were located, and the main parking lot. It all looked very professionally done which was somewhat reassuring.
The house itself was smaller than Marcham Hall and was a confusing mix of red, black, and white with very tall brick chimneys that reminded her of somewhere.
“Hampton Court,” Mabel said as they got out of the car. “We visited Henry the Eighth’s little place when I came to England last time.”
“Yes, exactly.” Colin took his sunglasses off.
“Tudor chimneys were all the rage back in the day. The more the better.” He pointed at the side of the house.
“Old black-and-white-framed manor house in the centre, two extra wings added in brick at some point to make an Elizabethan ‘E’ shape, and formal gardens make a very pretty picture.”
“It also looks like something in a murder mystery,” Mabel pointed out.
“Murder at Mambles.” Colin took her hand. “Let’s hope we’re not starring in the sequel. Now, where do you think we’ll find Bumpy?”
They walked up to the house and Colin checked the sign posted by the path. “There should be an estate office somewhere around here—oh yes—there it is.”
He led her past the bathrooms located in a newly built barn-like structure, and the busy café, toward what looked like a stable block to the side of the house.
Colin was looking over his shoulder as he walked. “I think the café used to be actual stables. I came here to play polo a couple of times with Eric.”
“Polo,” Mabel murmured and poked him in the ribs. “Jolly good.”
“I can’t help my incredibly privileged and cliched upbringing you know.” Colin joked.
“I guess not.”
She waited as he tapped on the glass of the stable block and went into the office. The strong smell of pipe smoke, wet dog, and coffee wafted over them as the man occupying the office swung his chair around to look at them.