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Chapter One
This wasn’t supposedto be her English vacation. Her brother Tom and his wife Kristine had bought the vacation package at their son’s school auction, but then Kristine got pregnant, with twins, and there was no traveling during the pregnancy or for the year after, and with the trip to England about to expire at the end of December, Tom offered it up to his family, and Cara jumped at the opportunity. Go to England? Stay in a historic cottage? Enjoy a proper English Christmas?
Avoid her wonderful loving protective family that still fretted about her broken engagement?
To England she’d go, and Cara tried hard to find a friend who could go with her—it was a roomy three-bedroom cottage—but not one could make it work, not at such short notice, never mind over Christmas when most families liked to be together.
Cara’s parents were a bit taken aback that she’d want to miss the family Christmas, but Cara had had twenty-five family Christmases in Bellingham and two in Sun Valley with Chet’s family, but never one in England. So, to England she went, departing from Seattle yesterday, arriving in London this morning, connecting to a flight to Midlands, and then the train to Bakewell, and now she was here. Jet-lagged but happy.
She’d be even happier after a shower, some food, and a nap, nothing so long she wouldn’t sleep tonight, but her body ached with fatigue and her eyes felt heavy. Fortunately, her cab driver was a lovely man, and even though she felt as if the directions to her cottage were lacking, he assured her he knew exactly what to do and where to go.
“You’re staying out at the Park,” he said approvingly, stowing her bags in the car’s trunk. “Just five-minutes’ drive from here. Will be there before you know it.”
Shivering, she climbed into the backseat, waiting until he was behind the steering wheel to reply. “I don’t think I’m staying at the Park. At least I don’t know anything about a park. It’s called the Gamekeeper’s Cottage, or Holiday Cottage Two.” She glanced at her printed page of information and then up at the back of his head. “There must be several cottages on the property then.”
He started the car and pulled away from the little train station. “Not close together, but yes, scattered about. Stanley Park is quite large. It’s a nice estate. One of the biggest in the county, even after large parcels were sold off. Lord Sherbourne’s father bought several hundred acres back during his lifetime, but the current Sherbourne hasn’t done much with the place. He isn’t as interested, and doesn’t visit often, although he’s expected to put in an appearance for one of the weekends.”
Cara understood the majority of what he was saying. He did have a rather thick accent but he was cheerful, and friendly, and comfortable with the directions. “I take it you were raised here?”
“Oh no, I’m from Manchester, but my wife and I had enough of the city. Too expensive. Too much traffic. After the kids were grown, we decided to sell and look for a place for our retirement. Bakewell is a lovely village. We’re quite happy here.”
“Is my cottage far from the town center? I was looking at the directions and trying to figure out if it would be a long walk from my rental to the shops.”
“Not too long of a walk. Maybe a couple kilometers each way.”
A couple kilometers? Cara frowned, translating that into miles. It wasn’t an impossible walk, but it was farther than she liked, especially if she was going for dinner or carrying heavygroceries. Or if it rained, and she’d been prepared for rain as it had rained the two weeks before. “But I can call for taxis?” she asked.
“Oh yes. There are a few of us around. I’ll give you my number. Just give me a ring. If I’m not available, I’ll send someone to you. You won’t be stranded.”
“Good. I’ve been reading about Bakewell and the Lakes District. I’ve learned that Bakewell is quite charming at Christmas with all the decorations.”
He nodded. “It’s a lovely village, quite popular now for holidays, not just during the summer, but for Christmas. In December, the big houses open for visitors. Your Langley Park is one, Haddon Hall is another, and then of course there’s Chatsworth, the grandest of them all. But they’re all fine places and you should visit each if you can. Although, now that I think about it, it’s so close to Christmas it might be hard finding tickets.” He hesitated, glanced up into the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze. “My wife helps out in Langley’s tearoom on Saturdays during the holiday tours. She looks forward to it all year. I’ll have to ask her about tickets. She might know how to still get one. Next time you ring me for a ride, I can let you know.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Cara said, “but don’t put yourself out. I’m just so happy to be here. It’s my first time to England.”
“Not London for you?”
“I come from a relatively small town—”
“How big?”
“About ninety thousand,” she answered.
“That’s not a small town.” He turned off the main road, taking a left on a quiet lane. “Where is it? California?”
“No. Washington state. Bellingham is above Seattle, near the border of Canada.”
“Oh, I like Canada. I’ve been to Vancouver. Went for the Winter Olympics. Britain never does that well in the winter games, but that year we took the gold medal in the skeleton. Amy Williams. It was her first Olympics, too. Do you remember?”
Cara hesitated. To be honest, she didn’t even know what event the skeleton was, but she didn’t want to offend her driver. “She did fantastic,” Cara said, because at least that was true.
“She did,” he agreed. He pointed to the trees bordering the road. “That’s all Langley Park,” he said. “Your cottage is on the other side of those woods.”
She glanced around. There really wasn’t anything out here. Open fields. Clusters of trees. Some cattle in the distance. “Where are the other cottages?”
“You’re at the edge of the Park. The others are closer together, several by the big house. The cottage by the old dairy for example, that’s quite nice. And then there’s the gatehouse. That’s my favorite. My wife and I stayed there once for a little romantic weekend. She’d been saying I didn’t give her any romance, so I surprised her. Roses, champagne, two-nights’ stay. We had a lovely time. Next time you come, ask for that one.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, smiling.
