‘No. Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d rather speak to Lady Bramlington directly.’
Henry’s curiosity was clearly not satisfied by her vague explanation, but she was grateful when he didn’t push for more information. Goodness knows what would come out of her mouth next.
‘OK. So shall we discuss Critters’ Lodge first or do you want to—’
‘Critters’ Lodge?’
Granger moved from sniffing Ava’s shoes to nudging her pocket for a biscuit; without removing her gaze from Henry, she showed the dog her empty hands. She hadn’t thought to bring treats with her. Dissatisfied, Granger sauntered to Henry’s side.
‘Yes, you said you wanted to speak to me. I assumed you wanted to talk business.’
Ava noticed that Henry’s voice had a more formal tone than just moments before.
‘Yes, business.’ Not wanting to declare her feelings on the doorstep, she was pleased to be able to buy some time.
‘Why don’t you come with me? I’ve got to get changed, but if you don’t mind waiting we can talk. I’ll explain everything, and then I’ll take you to my mother.’
‘OK.’ Now, Ava was curious. While Henry had promised the charity would be safe, it seemed he had more to say on the matter. She hoped it wasn’t anything inspired by whatever he’d heard the night before.
As he led her to the back of the building, Ava congratulated herself on not audibly gasping. She had seen it from a distance many times, but its grandeur and scale were infinitely multiplied when up close; she was shocked by the magnitude of it. While the front of Dapplebury House had looked imposing, the view ofthe back, blazed in light from the morning sun, unencumbered of trees and plants, was simply stunning. Being set on a hill, it overlooked the grounds and estate. She was sure the row of almost floor to ceiling sash windows must offer the perfect vista from every room. Her eyes were wide as she attempted to take it all in.
‘Wow! It looks different seeing it up close. More . . .’
‘Dilapidated?’
‘No! More beautiful. It’s magnificent.’
Ava looked across to the stretch of woodland, where she regularly walked Myrtle. The lake was beyond but partly obscured by the line of trees. She could see the village and could just about make out the main street where the charity shop was. ‘You’re the master of all you survey.’
Henry laughed. ‘Believe me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘Not just the house, but the grounds. Look, I’ve never seen them from this vantage point.’
‘Natural landscape by design,’ Henry joked.
‘What do you mean?’ Ava kept her eyes fixed on the rolling green space in front of her, thinking how wonderful it would be to sit in this spot and paint the scene.
‘Swooping lawns, scattered trees, the woodland and . . . well, you’ve seen the ornamental lake’ — Henry visibly swallowed — ‘all pleasure grounds, inspired by Capability Brown in the eighteenth century.’
Ava’s mind boggled at the lineage of it all; even the grounds were steeped in history.
Walking along to a large, predominantly glass door in the centre of the building, Henry opened it and gestured for Ava to enter before him. As she went to go inside, she hesitated.
‘Do you need to announce I’m here or something? I don’t want your m — I mean, Lady Bramlington to—’
‘Trust me, she’ll be polite.’ Henry spoke the words matter-of-factly leaving Ava in no doubt that he intended to see to it.
Reassured, she smiled and stepped inside. Granger followed. The dog’s claws tapped against the black and white chequered floor as he walked. The walls were painted rich damask, a contrast to the alabaster skin of the men and demurely posed, flat bosomed women in the portraits that hung in large gilt frames around the walls. Ava felt their eyes upon her.
‘Relatives?’ Her voice sounded too small.
‘Mostly. Do you want to wait in my father’s, I mean, my office, or come to my room?’ Henry’s cheeks coloured. ‘I’m only asking because Mrs Jenkins lurks in and around my office.’
Ava grimaced, remembering meeting the woman at the charity shop. ‘I’ll wait in your room. If that’s OK.’
‘Well there’s plenty of other rooms to choose from, but I’d rather keep you safe with me. If I’d known you were coming I’d—’
‘Sorry, it was a spur of the moment thing.’
