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‘Thank you.’
Yet even as she looped the pendant over her head Etta knew she must not become dependent on Gabriel—must work out a strategy to be rid of Tommy herself. Because once the job was done Gabe’s bodyguard duties would cease.
But right now she was safe, and there was a project to embark on. ‘Right. I’m going to get started.’
The hours passed by in a welcome blur. A part of her was aware of Gabe’s presence, but he didn’t interfere as she inspected and stacked and sorted and dusted and felt the comfort of centuries of history envelop her. As she sifted through the records she could almost feel the people in them starting to come alive in her mind.
Until... ‘Etta. I think you need to stop before you collapse.’
She rose to her feet from where she’d been inspecting a tottering pile of ancient-looking papers and wiped a hand across her forehead. ‘What time is it?’
‘Dinner time.’ Gabe pointed at a plate of now rather limp-looking sandwiches. ‘Especially as you haven’t touched lunch.’
‘I did mean to eat them. I’m sorry. I got completely absorbed.’
‘So I can see. But I’m making an executive decision. You need to stop. I haven’t even shown you where you’re going to sleep. So, come on, I’ll show you your room, then you can freshen up and give me a progress report over dinner.’
‘OK.’ Etta looked down at herself and grimaced. Filthy didn’t quite cover it.
As she followed Gabe out of the records room and down a long corridor she took in the faint air of dinginess in the peeling wallpaper and the slight smell of must and damp. Then Gabe pushed a door open and Etta blinked.
‘This part of the house is open to the public,’ he said.
The contrast was marked: a gleaming oak staircase curved upwards with imposing elegance, polished furniture from times gone by sat on shiny wooden flooring, and gilt-edged portraits adorned the walls.
Etta trailed her hand along the carved oak as she mounted the richly carpeted stairs, and peeped into rooms resplendent with tapestries and velvet and history.
‘Here we are.’ Gabe unlocked a door marked Private and they stepped through into a shabby hallway. ‘All our money is poured into the upkeep of the estate and the public areas of the house. So I’m afraid you won’t be staying in historic splendour yourself.’
‘These rooms are still part of history. I’m guessing they were the servants’ quarters... Perhaps one of my ancestors worked as a scullery maid here.’
Gabriel pushed a door open. ‘Hopefully you’ll be fairly comfortable in here.’
‘Of course I will.’
The room was simply furnished, but it was clean, and although the walls could have done with a coat of paint there were fresh flowers on the dresser and the eaves and cornices were a reminder of ages past.
‘I’ll knock for you in half an hour. The bathroom is across the hall.’
* * *
Half an hour later Gabe watched Etta seat herself at the large wooden table in the airy well-equipped kitchen. She was dressed in jeans and an oversized jumper, her chestnut hair hung in damp tendrils round her make-up-free face, and she looked absurdly young.
She inhaled appreciatively as Gabriel ladled beef casserole onto a pile of wild rice and handed her the plate. ‘This smells divine. Did you make it?’
‘Not me. I can cook, but not to this standard. Our housekeeper made it. Sarah has been here for years, and she is always thrilled when one of us comes back to stay.’
In truth, Sarah had been one of the people he’d missed most when he’d been at boarding school. She was one of the few people who had ever hugged the Derwent children.
‘So you don’t live here?’
‘No. I’ve got my own place in London.’ One day, when he married, he planned to renovate one of the old empty houses on the estate. No way would he expect his wife to live with his parents in the manor, however suitable she might be. No way could he live with his parents—the idea was impossible to picture.
‘It must have been amazing to grow up here. I felt thrilled for Cathy when I got us a place with a tiny patch of lawn and her own bedroom. So all this space and the gardens... It must have been magical.’
‘I didn’t really spend that much time here.’ He kept his voice deliberately even.
Etta’s forehead creased. ‘Where were you? I thought the Derwents lived here pretty much all year round?’
