“You asked for proper coffee so I’ve procured a machine. It has these little capsules.” He holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“They’re called pods,” I exclaim. “But you bought a coffee machine for me?” Warmth floods through me, and for the first time since I learned of my uncle’s death I don’t feel quite so adrift.
“Of course,” he answers as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Well, thank you very much,” I say and reach for the mug. My phone rings before I get a chance to taste it, and I sigh, putting it back to answer the call. It’s Mr Nagle.
“There’s been an offer on the house,” he says once we get through the greetings.
“Already? It hasn’t officially gone on the market yet. The estate agent isn’t due to come and take photos until tomorrow. “Who?” I ask, suddenly suspicious, and he says a name that’s not familiar.
“They’re property developers.”
“Oh, so they’d like to turn the place into exclusive flats or something like that?”
“I think they’re thinking more along the lines of a housing estate. I think they’ve made an offer to your uncle before.”
“How much?” I ask as he reels off a number which is more than I was led to believe the estate was worth. It’s a lot of money. It would solve my problems and I’d be rich... disgustingly rich. But it feels too easy, too much money, and in my gut it doesn’t feel right.
“Tell them I’m considering other offers,” I say and end the call. It’ll buy me some time to think, and if they want it that badly, they’ll wait. It feels like they’ve been waiting already, like vultures, hoping to swoop in as soon as my uncle was in the ground. I have a sip of my coffee—it is very good—and take a moment to appreciate it. Then I look around my uncle’s study. Now I know his story, I feel his influence in this room, and I have no doubt there’ll be evidence of it elsewhere. I’ve only just scratched the surface of learning about him and I’m not ready to obliterate his legacy. I will never allow a housing estate to be built on top of it. Tate is right, I am a romantic. I still think his idea is crazy, and I’m not sure it’ll work, but I don’t have anything to lose.
I go and fetch my laptop, sipping more of the delicious coffee as it boots up. I open a browser and bring up For my Fans. I’m ready to try to preserve his legacy.
CHAPTER 7
JASON
From my vantage point on my ladder, I watch the hooded form of the earl stroll towards the viewpoint seat looking over the lake. I’ve seen him sit there a couple of times since I first came across him a few days ago. He usually stays for around half an hour or so before returning to the hall. I don’t know if he’s just enjoying the view or deep in thought. I pull my eyes away and go back to cleaning the statue I’m working on. Removing lichen and anything else that might erode the stonework of the dozen statues that are in this part of the formal gardens is a good job for a dry and bright January day. This one is of Dionysus, his robes stopping just short of revealing everything.
“Are all the statues this suggestive?” A voice startles me and I track it to see the earl looking up at where I’m scrubbing the robes with a brush.
“Most of them, sir.” I reply
“I thought I asked you to call me Kai,” he says. Then, seeing my hesitation, he adds, “It can be our secret, and I know you’regood at keeping those.” He gives me an impish smile, which is so damn cute, and I know I’m not going to be able to refuse him anything if he smiles like that at me.
“The statues don’t surprise me now I know a bit more about my uncle.” He returns his gaze to Dionysus.
“Oh, these have been here for a couple of centuries. I think it was maybe the second or third earl who installed them,” I say and see him blink a little, taking that on board. “But your uncle did commission some statues himself, they’re in the grove along the Aspen Walk.
“Are they suggestive too?” he asks, and I climb down the ladder to stand in front of him.
“Some people would call them erotic,” I say and watch his face light up and his eyes sparkle.
“Show me?”
I direct him through the gardens, the opposite way to the viewpoint, along past the walled garden. We walk through the avenue lined with aspen trees to a secluded grove beyond, where arranged within the trees around the edges are eight statues.
“This one is called the adoration of David,” I say, stopping in front of the first. It’s a take on Michelangelo’s David, but in this, three figures are hunkered down at his feet, their hands reaching up to caress various parts of his body—his arse, his torso, and his dick, which is much more erect than in the original. Kai moves on to the next statue and I watch him, leaning against the trunk of an ash tree. He stops at each one, taking them in. All of them depict male forms. In some they’re kissing, and a couple show almost and actual oral sex. One even shows frotting. He spends longer on the last one, frowning slightly. I know why. It’s myfavourite of the statues as it captures a more tender moment rather than the purely erotic. One man is encircled within the arm of another, his back pressed to the other’s chest. The man behind has his other hand on the front guy’s thigh, close to but not quite touching his dick. But it’s the look between them that makes it special. The guy in front is gazing back in love towards the man holding him, who is returning it. The front figure has the features of the seventh earl. Ones shared with Kai.
“Did you know my uncle kept a diary for many years, that fills several books, about what happened at the hall?”
“No, I didn’t know that, but I do know what happened here.” I walk over to join him at the statue.
“So you know about the parties?” he asks and I nod.
“Did you know that he used to have picnics out here in this spot, with his friends?” I don’t embellish on that. If he knows about the parties, he’ll know what happened out here as well.
“I didn’t. I haven’t finished all the diaries yet, but I don’t think I’m surprised. Is that why he put himself in the statue, just like he put himself in the painting in the gallery? Hidden from society but not hiding from himself?”
