16. Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Everything wasn’t all right.
Mabel had apologized for her drunken behavior at Freddy’s party and Colin had politely accepted the apology but there was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.
He still talked to her about his plans, asked her advice, and hugged her, but she knew in her soul that something had changed, and it was probably her fault.
Three weeks later they were standing in the courtyard behind the house looking at the newly renovated coach house when Freddy appeared.
“Viz! There you are! They’ve agreed to try it!”
“That’s great!” Colin said. “Agreed to try what?”
“The organic trust will take us on as a partner and focus the home farm on organic produce to supply the house. We could even open our own farm shop here.”
“That really is good news.” Colin punched his brother in the arm. “Well done, you.”
“You helped.” Freddy said punching him back. “We need to go over the financial implications again, and it will take years to get the proper certification, but—”
Colin groaned and Mabel tried hard not to look at him. Every time the word money came up, they both froze like popsicles. And, of course, because of the myriad problems they were trying to solve with the estate, it came up a lot.
Freddy turned to Mabel. “You’ll fund me won’t you, princess?”
Mabel tried to smile. “Sure, why not?”
“We’re not taking a penny from Mabel, Freddy.” Colin’s smile disappeared. “Don’t be rude.”
“It was just a joke,” Freddy protested. “Mabel doesn’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Mabel said. “I already know that your brother hates the idea of a rich American turning up and throwing out wads of cash just to help him out.”
Colin looked at her. “Don’t do this.”
“What?” Mabel raised her chin. “Talk about the vulgar subject of money?”
“No, don’t make me feel like an ass for refusing to be beholden to you for my survival.”
“I wasn’t aware that was what I was doing,” Mabel pointed out. “It might surprise you to know that sometimes I offer folks loans which they pay back with interest.”
“Like a bank?” Freddy looked interested. “You’ve as rich as a bloody bank?”
“Shut up, Freddy,” Colin snapped. “This has nothing to do with you.”
Mabel turned to Freddy. “By the way, your brother is an ass, but not for the reason he thinks he is.”
“Okay, how is he an ass?”
“Freddy…”
Freddy ignored Colin, his attention all on Mabel.
She suddenly realized that arguing with Colin through his brother wasn’t exactly fair. “He knows how,” Mabel said grandly. “Now, if you’d both excuse me, I have a few closets to clean out in the countess’s apartment.”
Colin watched Mabel walk away and looked at his brother.
“Thanks for putting your foot in it.”
“What did I say?” Freddy looked hurt. “I wasn’t to know that both of you have suddenly lost your sense of humor.”
“I don’t want Mabel thinking I want her around for her money,” Colin said.
“She doesn’t think that. For some strange reason she seems to like you for yourself.”
“She thinks everyone is after her for her money,” Colin said darkly.
“I suppose that’s because it’s true.” Freddy looked at him.
“From what she’s told me she’s basically bankrolling her whole family.
They all expect her to dish out money whenever they have a problem.
Her dad even took her to court once because he wanted a parental income or something. That can’t feel nice.”
Colin frowned. “She hasn’t mentioned most of that to me.”
“Probably because when she paid off that outstanding loan, you gave her a lot of shit about it.”
“I…” Colin closed his mouth.
“You did, didn’t you?” Freddy looked pleased with himself. “Maybe you two need to have a proper conversation about the thorny topic of finances. I read this article in a magazine when I was at the dentist’s once that said it was the biggest problem in most relationships.”
Colin just stared at his brother.
“What, you didn’t think I could read?” Freddy asked.
“No, I’m just struggling with the whole idea of you giving me advice about my love life.”
“Well, someone needs to, or you’re going to screw it up.” Freddy shrugged. “And I like Mabel. She brings out the best in you.”
“She’s a good person.”
“She’s a great person, and she’s one hundred percent into you,” Freddy said. “Now can we get back to talking about the home farm? It’s far more interesting than your pathetic whining about your love life.”
“Yes, of course,” Colin said.
He let Freddy talk for as long as he wanted.
He hated to admit it, but his brother had given him some good advice.
If he really saw a future with Mabel, he had to stop avoiding the sort of difficult conversations he’d fled from all his life, and he had to start believing in himself.
The question was—how could he convince someone who believed all their value lay in their finances that they were valuable for who they were?
He’d tried telling her he didn’t want a penny but that seemed to make things worse.
Freddy’s words floated over his head as he tried to nod and comment appropriately, but his thoughts were with Mabel and how to make things right with her. He’d have to be honest, and, in his experience, that could backfire spectacularly. But she was worth it—he was damn sure of that.
Mabel’s self-righteous march took her halfway across the grand entrance hall and faltered as she set her foot on the first step.
“Dammit!”
She shouldn’t have started an argument in front of the ever-curious Freddy. She was always accusing Colin of avoiding things but at least he didn’t use his brother as a shield to snipe at her. But how else was she supposed to get behind his impenetrable armor of British politeness?
She started up the stairs, aware of the silence around her and the sense that Colin’s ancestors were wondering why the heck she thought she knew better than he did.
Several pairs of decidedly judgy eyes stared down at her from family portraits lining the staircase and upper hallways, and all of them had Colin’s nose.
She paused at the door leading to the countess’s suite and took a deep breath before hauling out the simply enormous key Colin had left on the table for her that morning.
The faint waft of stale perfume was still there in the shaded, neglected bedroom, but there was little sense of the three women who had occupied the rooms during the current earl’s adult years.
Wife number one—Colin, Freddy, and Felicity’s mom—had been well-liked and the sorrow over her death still permeated the house.
Wife number two, her former best friend, had barely lasted a year.
Wife three, was the ex-model who’d produced twins and left them behind only to die in a road crash in France with her lover.
At the time, the earl, not being the most forgiving of people, hadn’t even offered to return her belongings, his reasoning being—according to Felicity—that the man she’d run off with was a multi-millionaire who could easily afford to replace everything without even blinking.
Which begged the question—whom did all the stuff belong to?
The earl? The twins? The relatives of the three deceased women?
Mabel reminded herself it wasn’t her problem and that she was just here to use up some energy rather than run outside and scream like one of the demented peacocks that roamed the estate.
There were two large chests of drawers in the main bedroom and a door that led into a sumptuous bathroom filled with closets and beyond that…
Mabel gasped as she turned on the light.
The secondary closet was about the same size as her apartment in San Jose and was chockful of stuff.
Hundreds of pairs of shoes were boxed up or on display, racks and racks of clothing and handbags, scarves, and accessories everywhere.
Had none of these women ever thrown anything away?
After turning off the light in the walk-in-closet, she returned to the main bedroom and studied the two sets of drawers.
Sorting out another woman’s underwear wasn’t the most pleasant of jobs, but if she didn’t do it, nothing would ever get done in the countess’s suite.
There was a tap on the door and Felicity peered in.
“Hello! Do you need a hand? Colin said you were up here.”
“Come on in,” Mabel beckoned encouragingly. “I was just about to start on the drawers. Did anyone ever get rid of anything in this house?”
“No, it wasn’t the done thing. Nothing really gets thrown out, it just moves steadily upward toward the attics.” Felicity considered her. “Brigitte, Daddy’s third wife, cleared out some of her predecessor’s stuff because she wanted more space.”
“Wow,” Mabel said faintly. “So most of this is hers?”
“She was an international super model before she married Daddy,” Felicity said. “She literally came with a lot of baggage.”
“I can see why you’re a writer,” Mabel said. “That kind of sums it up, doesn’t it?” She opened the top drawer. “It’s full of orange boxes.”
Felicity looked over her shoulder. “She did love scarves and perfume.” She paused. “And shoes and handbags. And cocaine, but Daddy didn’t know about that part until much later.”
Mabel opened one of the shallow boxes and found a silk scarf in a vibrant print. “It’s beautiful.” She counted the stacks in the drawer. “There are about twenty in here and that’s just drawer number one.”
“That brand is always very popular,” Felicity said. “The late queen loved their headscarves.”
“Hermès?” Mabel looked at the logo on the inside of the box. “Yeah, even I’ve heard of them.”
They worked together in companionable silence until they’d emptied out the first of the two towering chests of drawers.
Mabel sorted things into three piles. New with tags still attached, slightly used for the charity shops, and the rest for the rag bag.
There was surprisingly little that needed to be thrown away.