“Like I said, I’m becoming fond of it. I still have plenty of time, don’t I?”
“Yes, but if you wait too long they might reduce the offer or withdraw it completely.” I don’t know why he seems so concerned.
“I’ll take my chances,” I say, putting down my cup. “Now, I believe all the remaining paperwork regarding the estate is in order, so unless you have anything else, I have work to do. Jones will see you out.” I leave him open-mouthed as I open the door, and I allow myself a smile as I head towards the kitchen to find Jones. Apart from concerns over why he came here to persuade me to accept the developer’s offer, I quite enjoyed the exchange. Maybe I could get used to acting the earl.
“See that he leaves immediately and doesn’t linger anywhere,” I instruct Jones as I enter the kitchen. He nods and obeys while I sit at the table. Martha puts a plate of biscuits in front of me, knowing I’m not able to refuse her cooking.
“He’s gone,” Jones says when he returns. “What did he want?”
“To suggest that I accept the developers’ offer for the house.”
“Hmm that developer has been after the hall for the last few years. Your uncle always refused their offers.”
“So I understand.” I absently reach for another biscuit.
“Will you accept it, sir?”
“Not if I can help it,” I say and push off from my chair. My head feels a little muzzy, probably just from Mr Nagle’s strange visit, but I need some air. My body feels heavy too. I set off across the gardens and keep on going, wanting to clear my head. I find myself at the lake, standing on the deck and staring out acrossthe dark waters. Something about Mr Nagle’s words and tone bother me. I know he was trusted by my uncle, but I don’t feel the same way. I’m not comfortable with him handling the estate, so I think I’ll start looking for a new solicitor to take over things for me. Even if I do end up having to sell the hall, I’d prefer someone else to do it. A creak of the wooden deck comes from behind me and I whirl round to see it’s Jason.
“Sorry if I startled you. I was checking the boathouse and I saw someone was out here,” he says. He’s a welcome sight after the last hour, and I smile at him. He matches it, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
“I’ve never seen the boathouse. What boats do we have?”
“Would you like to see?” he asks and I nod. He leads the way as I follow along the short path to the low wooden building. He unlocks the door, opens it, and then gestures for me to enter. As I squeeze past him, I catch a smell that’s mellow. Sandalwood and cinnamon with earthy tones. It’s warm and strong just like Jason, and I breathe deeply before stepping into the gloom where my senses are overtaken by the smell of the wooden boats and a faint scent of dank water from the lake on the far side.
“We have a few canoes, and several rowing boats that can fit two, four, or eight people. There’s also a sailing dinghy, which I don’t remember your uncle using while I’ve been here, but I think he did when he was younger,” Jason explains.
“Where do people sail or row to?” I ask.
“Apart from using it for exercise, the lake is bigger than you think. It’s a horseshoe shape, and around the other side is a small island where there’s a small folly.”
“Another secluded place for my uncle’s parties?”
“They were quite lively,” he answers, and I see a faint glint in his eyes.
“Wait, did you have to do the rowing?” I ask and he gives a wry smile. “You did, didn’t you?!” He just gives a little shrug, but I know it’s true.
“Did you ever see anything? Did it scandalise you?” I pry a little.
“No, and no.”
“Not men with other men?” Okay, that was very blatant.
“Should it?”
“I don’t know, some hetero men might find it a bit too much.”
“They wouldn’t fit in here very well, would they? But then maybe it’s a good thing I’m not.”
Bingo. It was as subtle as a ton of bricks, but I got my answer.
I shiver in the cold air of the boathouse. I’d left without a coat, and though the walk down here had warmed me up, now my skin is chilled.
“Are you cold? Perhaps we should be getting back,” Jason says and I agree. I wait for him to lock the boathouse again and we walk back up the hill towards the hall. When we reach the gardens again, I turn and look back down at the lake, seeing for the first time how it disappears out of sight behind a bank of trees. Despite the walk I still feel chilled, and my head hurts even more. I want to warm up but I don’t want to leave suddenly like yesterday.
“Thank you for showing me the boathouse. When the weather’s warmer I’d like to see the folly as well. Would you take me there?”
“I’d like that,” he replies.
