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Short. Like two weeks, or a month?
Yes, he liked to play hard and move on.
Carmen realized she had to grow a thicker skin, and fast.
* * *
REX STOOD OUTSIDE the Lomsdale Gallery and looked through the large plate-glass window at his mother. Bea Swanitch was closing on her fifty-fifth birthday but would easily pass for a woman a decade younger. He observed her as she dealt with a delivery person; she was impeccably dressed and unflustered even though there was some problem with the papers.
When she was done and had caught sight of him, she waved and then spoke to her assistant. A few moments later, she joined him on the busy Sloane Square pavement and they headed toward her favorite nearby restaurant. Rex glanced over his shoulder as they went, as he’d done since Friday.
“I didn’t think you’d have time for a lunch date this week.”
Rex noticed how carefully she worded that. She was aware that he was dealing with his father’s estate, but wouldn’t refer to it directly. “Things are turning out to be a little bit more complicated than I anticipated.”
“Is there a lot of paperwork to sort out before you can put the house on the market?”
“I’m not sure I will be putting it on the market.”
They were within five feet of the doorway to the restaurant, but his mother stopped in her tracks. “Please tell me you’re not considering living up there.”
Rex had anticipated that reaction. His mother would absolutely hate it if he took up residence at Burlington Manor. “Don’t look so dismayed.” He put a reassuring hand on the back of her shoulder and ushered her on, opening the door to the restaurant as they went. “I don’t know what I’m doing at the moment.”
Never a truer word said, he thought wryly.
“Maybe you can help me sort a few things out,” he added after the manager had directed them to a table close to the window and they’d taken up their seats.
She gave him a suspicious glance. “It’s not often you ask for my advice, but since you have, I think you should get rid of the place as quickly as possible.”
“Lighten up. Dad’s gone now.” Everything associated with his father was shrouded in negativity for Bea Swanitch, apart—luckily—from himself. “I know it’s difficult for you but the house wasn’t always an unhappy place.”
She pursed her lips and concentrated on reading the menu for a few moments. The waiter appeared and took their orders. Once they were alone, she responded. “Rex, have some sense. It’s not a working estate. It’s a money sink.”
“I never understood why he didn’t change that. Why didn’t he look into ways to make the house earn a living?”
She gave him a shrewd glance.
Rex gestured with his hands. “I know you hate talking about him, but there are a few things I need to know, just to sort out...some issues I’m having at the property.”
“So this is the real reason we’re having lunch.” She wore a vaguely amused expression, indicating she wasn’t too bothered.
“I always enjoy taking you to lunch, but I honestly could do with some information. My father hasn’t exactly made it straightforward, and while I can’t blame him for that, it’s not altogether easy for me to deal with.” Rex was beginning to feel as if his father had left him something of a dubious legacy, one that had mysterious complications attached. At first he’d been amused by the deal with Carmen, and he relished the prospect to get close to her as a result. But the subsequent events and emotional ties meant he was delving deeper into the past than he’d planned.
His strategy worked. His mother nodded. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me at all. His life was a mess so why should his passing be any different.”
Their drinks had arrived and she took a sip of her chardonnay. “Charles was old school. There was m
oney in the coffers when he inherited, and he used it to maintain the manor. When it ran out, and after we split, he married money.”
Rex didn’t want to give his opinion on the matter. Perhaps Charles Carruthers had married Sylvia Shelby for the money—they would never know for sure—but the two of them were happy together.
“Charles kept me out of the estate affairs, but it doesn’t take long to notice the immense upkeep a property like that demands. Coal mining had funded the Carruthers family for decades, but when that closed down in the 1980s it soon became apparent that things weren’t looking so rosy for Charles. After you were born I did suggest he open the grounds for private clay pigeon shooting parties and the like, but he said Burlington Manor was his home and he wanted it to remain a family home as it always had been.” She rolled her eyes. “Albeit without me in it, once I found out about his mistress.”
Rex was about to ask about the mistress, but now that she’d got started his mother was on a roll.
“I thought he might hitch up with his bit on the side, but he didn’t. Instead, he married wealthy businesswoman Sylvia Shelby, which meant Charles didn’t have to contemplate opening the place up.” She forced a smile. “Clever that.”
Rex sat back in his chair and thought about the implications. He’d always accepted that he came from a broken, dysfunctional family. Yet those years when Sylvia Shelby-Carruthers had been mistress at the manor had been the happiest of all. Growing up there as a child, his parents had argued. Then came the divorce. When he was told his father was marrying again, he’d expected the worse and rebelled against his father, majorly. As a result, his father hadn’t allowed him to come home from boarding school for the holidays until Sylvia and Carmen were well-settled and the renovations Sylvia funded were under way.
