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‘I know.’ She looked as if she wanted to continue but instead closed her mouth with a snap, continuing to flick through the photos.
‘But?’ he prompted.
‘But things are different now. You need to start running the estate as a commercial enterprise, not as a gentleman’s hobby.’
Ouch. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing these last few months?’ he demanded. ‘Research? I have barely touched my book. I’ve been doing my damnedest to try and get all the farming grants I can...’
‘That’s not going to be enough.’ She bit her lip and looked down at her screen, clearly thinking hard about something. ‘I didn’t want to show you this until I had done more work on it. It’s not ready yet.’
‘Show me what?’ Wariness skittered down his spine.
She clicked on the screen and swivelled the laptop round so he could see the screen.
Seb had expected a photo. Instead a formatted slide complete with bullet points faced him. He raised an eyebrow. ‘PowerPoint?’
Daisy coloured. ‘I know it’s a little OTT but I couldn’t think how else to order it.’
‘Go on, then. Amaze me.’ He knew he sounded dismissive but, honestly, what on earth could a wedding photographer who was expelled from school at sixteen contribute to the ongoing Hawksley struggle that he hadn’t considered? But, he conceded, if this was going to be her home he should at least listen to whatever crackpot ideas she had dreamed up.
She chewed on her lip for a moment, looking at him doubtfully before taking a deep breath and pointing one slim finger at the screen.
‘Okay.’ She slid him a nervy glance. ‘I want you to have an open mind, okay?’
He nodded curtly even as he felt his barriers go up.
‘This is Chesterfield Manor. The house, grounds and estate are a similar size to Hawksley. Chesterfield Manor has been open to the public for the last fifteen years. They specialise in outdoor trails and natural play.’ She sounded self-conscious, as if she were reading from a script.
‘An insurance nightmare.’
‘This one...’ The slide showed a magnificent Tudor house. ‘This is known for productions of plays, especially Shakespeare and they also do themed medieval banquets.’
‘In costume? Tell me you aren’t serious!’
Daisy didn’t reply, just carried on showing him slide after slide of stately homes spread throughout the UK ranging from a perfectly preserved Norman Castle to a nineteenth-century gothic folly, her manner relaxing as she settled into the presentation, pointing out all the various ways they attracted paying visitors.
Seb’s heart picked up speed as he looked at each slide, hammering so hard it rivalled the tick of the old grandfather clock in the hallway.
Everything she was showing him he had considered. Every conclusion she had drawn he had already drawn—and rejected. Too risky, not in keeping. A betrayal of his grandfather’s already squandered legacy.
Risks and spending money without thought of the consequences had almost broken Hawksley once.
Allowing the cameras into their home had just fuelled his parents’ narcissism, and greed.
He couldn’t go down that road. Didn’t she understand that?
He had thought she understood.
He had obviously been very wrong...
Seb took in a deep breath, stilling his escalating pulse, and sat back and folded his arms. ‘So people like stately homes.’
‘Hawksley has two things none of these have.’ She waited expectantly.
He sighed. ‘Which are?’
‘Its utterly unique appearance—and you. An eminent historian in situ right here. Look, I’ve been talking to Paul...’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You have been busy.’
She lifted her chin. ‘The farms pay for themselves, the village pays for itself—but the castle is in deficit. You can apply for as many grants as you like but that’s not going to fix the roof and certainly won’t replace the money your father squandered. The income from the trust used to pay for all the castle’s bills and living expenses for the earl and his family—right now you’d find it hard to replace the toaster.’
It was an exaggeration but his gut tightened at her words. Did she think he didn’t know this? Didn’t lie awake night after night thinking of every which way he could solve it?
‘But, Seb, there are so many ways we could use the castle to generate the income it needs. Start using the keep, as well as the hall, for weddings and parties too—erect a wooden and canvas inner structure inside the walls just like they did at Bexley. Hold plays, open all week Easter to September and weekends out of season. Have a Christmas open house.’ She hesitated. ‘Allow tours of the main house.’
