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Viognier, of course.
“Yes,” I replied, putting the glass back on the table. “The grounds are gorgeous. I’ll have a look at the garden at the back after lunch,” I told her.
“There isn’t much to see. It’s been readied for winter. But come spring and summer, it’s extraordinary.”
“Do you garden?”
She shook her head but said, “A little. We have two full-time groundskeepers. They do the bulk of the work. They live in the village.”
“Ah,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
Though, I thought I might understand why her voice and manner was vague. I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling she and Valium had a close relationship.
No judge.
Whatever gets you through the day.
The panel opened again, and silence descended as Laura returned, with Brittany this time, both of them carrying a plate, Laura also carrying a beautifully woven basket.
Laura put hers in front of Lady Jane, Brittany mine, and I saw we were having a ploughman’s. Well, a posh ploughman’s. The basket was filled with slices of fresh bread and homemade crackers, both looked divine.
Lady Jane waited until the panel snicked shut before she spoke again.
“It’s my understanding you and Ian are growing fond of each other.”
I took a slice of baguette. “Your son is charming.”
“He is that,” she murmured. “He’s on quite a tear with the house.”
This was an unexpected comment.
“How’s that?” I queried.
“Updates. Modernization. His father and he have been butting heads about it for years, I’m afraid.”
What?
“But Ian is determined to bring Duncroft into the twenty-first century,” she carried on. “It annoys him, for some reason, to have to plug a cord into the wall. He’d rather these things be built into the infrastructure of the house.”
So it was Ian who was behind the plugs and USB ports built into the nightstands, and possibly elsewhere.
“Even if it took three months for it all to be done, Bonnie was in fits of glee when she was able to move into her new kitchen,” she went on.
And he was behind the new kitchen too.
“Apparently, next spring, we’re having solar panels added to the back pitches of the roof,” she shared. “And possibly one or two of those windmills installed on the northern moors. More, if he can manage it. He wants to offer sustainable and affordable power solutions to the village.”
“That’s…actually really cool.”
“I’m sure these panels will be hideous,” she said, delicately smoothing pâté over a piece of melba toast.
“The roof is tall, and at the back, hardly anyone will see them.”
“We don’t have a lot of sun in England,” she pointed out.
“Any move away from fossil fuels, your grandchildren will thank you for.”
She lifted her hazy, green eyes to me but said nothing.
