Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
I spend Saturday exploring Edinburgh, wandering through the city and then hiking up to Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park. I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job of distracting myself, and Jarvis hasn’t tried to get in touch, so I can pretend for a while that he doesn’t exist.
But I still have to return to the castle on Sunday, and I do so with mixed feelings.
I’m relieved to see Lee out the front, tending to one of the garden beds. He waves when he sees me.
“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” he says, nodding his head at the sky.
It is, in fact, a beautiful day. The sky is blue with wispy clouds, and the sun shines down with a pleasant warmth. Perfect for an afternoon tea honouring Florence.
I cautiously enter the castle and head for the kitchen. Ginny is there already, and I relax even more.
She looks up and smiles kindly. “’Afternoon. How have you been since I saw you in the village?”
“I’ve had a lovely time. Yesterday, I went into Edinburgh and did a little shopping, and afterwards I went to Arthur’s Seat.”
“Ooh, Arthur’s Seat is one of my favourite places. Did you also see Samson’s Ribs?”
“I did. You’re very lucky to live in such a beautiful part of the world.”
“Do you want to help me put out some biscuits? The scones are already in the oven. I think they’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Sure.” I’m relieved that she isn’t asking me any further about Jarvis.
“I thought we’d set up in the living area, but we’ll make use of the front garden as well. I’m expecting more than thirty guests.”
“That’s a lot,” I say. “And lovely to hear since Florence’s immediate family aren’t around.”
I start placing biscuits on plates, and then I hear someone behind me.
I turn, and he’s there. My stomach drops, and I don’t know if it’s from dread or anticipation.
He looks at me briefly with that damn poker face before smiling at Ginny. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, we’re fine here. I was just about to—”
“Hello?” a voice calls from the front door.
Ginny hurries over to greet the first guest, and I follow her out. Jarvis trails me.
It’s a smiley man and woman in their seventies. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting the couple Florence raved about,” the woman says.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jarvis says politely.
“This is Angus and Beatrice,” Ginny says.
“Call me Bea,” the woman says, coming over and embracing me before doing the same with Jarvis. “Rachel and Jarvis. You’re exactly how Florence described.”
“I hope that’s a good thing,” Jarvis jokes.
“Yes, it’s a good thing. You two look perfect for each other. It’s funny how you can just tell when a couple is soulmates.”
I bite my bottom lip. Did Florence not tell Bea we broke up?
I glance at Ginny, and she seems unsure how to respond.
Jarvis replies instead. “I know. I guess we were lucky to find each other.”
I want to protest, but I kind of understand that Jarvis doesn’t want to make things awkward. After all, this event is for Florence.
Bea looks at me. “I’m dying for a cuppa. Rachel, will you lead me to the tea and give me a tour? It’s been a while since I was last here, and I’ve forgotten the layout of the place.”
“Uh, sure.”
I guide Bea through to the kitchen, while Angus stays talking with Ginny and Jarvis.
Hopefully that’s the extent of any weirdness, and I can keep my distance for the rest of the afternoon.
But I worry that might be a slightly hard thing to do.
***
In the end, over forty people show up, and the castle is bustling. We run out of snacks, so Ginny has to drive into town to stock up on more tea and biscuits.
But the afternoon is successful. It’s lovely meeting all the people who knew Florence over the years, and I get to hear some beautiful stories about her life and all the kind things she did for her neighbours.
We even made it down to the southern corner of the castle grounds to see where her ashes had been scattered near her favourite tree.
It’s a shame her immediate family was so selfish and practically abandoned her in her final years. I’m actually surprised I haven’t heard from them since it was announced Jarvis and I inherited the castle. Unless they contacted Jarvis, and he didn’t tell me.
Ginny is the last person to leave at 6pm, and it’s suddenly just me and Jarvis alone again.
“Do you need help sorting out the rest of Florence’s belongings?” I ask. I feel bad that I’ve kind of left it up to him to do on his own.
“No. It’s mostly done, and Ginny said she’d take care of anything left over that I’ve either missed or don’t have time to complete before I leave.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Thanks for being here today,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t do much.”
“I still appreciate it.”
I’m starting to get confused again, so I quickly turn around, looking for teacups to carry into the kitchen. But somehow, I end up bumping a hall table containing a cup balanced precariously on the edge, and it falls to the ground, shattering everywhere.
“Oh!” I bend down to pick up the larger pieces, but Jarvis calls out. “Stop! I’ll get a dustpan. You’ll cut—”
“Oops.” I hadn’t realised it was so easy to cut yourself on broken china. I let go of the piece I was holding and look at the blood oozing out of my finger.
“Don’t move,” Jarvis orders. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
“It doesn’t require first-aid. It’s just a small cut.”
“Either way, you should put on some ointment and a Band-aid.”
“That’s a little excessive.”
“I don’t care.” He disappears for a moment and returns with a kit. “Sit on the couch.”
“You’re really making a big production about this.”
“You don’t want to get an infection and have that be the one reminder of your trip here.”
“Fine.” I sit on the couch and try to take the first-aid kit from Jarvis, but he puts it to the side and opens it himself.
“It’s your right hand, so it’ll be hard to do on your own.”
I shake my head. “You’re very bossy.”
“You love it.”
He then seems to realise what he’s said and coughs. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
“For the record, I don’t love bossy men.” I keep my tone light and teasing, even though it’s true.
“I know,” he says softly.
I watch as he paints ointment on the cut on my finger and wraps a Band-aid around it.
I’m about to pull my hand back when he leans forward and gently kisses my finger.
I’m too stunned to say anything at first, and then I clear my throat.
“What are you doing?”
“Kissing it better.”
“Only children believe something can be kissed better.”
“I think kissing can make a lot of things better.”
My heart pounds, and I’m annoyed with myself. He’s completely avoided being honest with me again, yet he thinks he can get away with saying stuff like that?
“I only kiss people who trust me enough to be their true selves.”
His face falls again. “I…”
“I’m not interested in any more excuses. If you don’t feel I’ve earned my keep enough on this trip, I’ll pay for the disclaimer to be drawn up when I get home. But otherwise, this is over. I’ll see you on the plane.”
I leave before I can fall for his manipulation again.
I am done with Jarvis.
I think I’m done with men, period.