‘Do you?’ she said. ‘People have been emptying these buckets for your family for, well, I don’t know for how long, but they’ve been looking after this problem as best they can while in return, they get treated like they don’t matter.’
Her tone spiralled, and Sebastian felt his temper rise to match her sudden outburst.
‘What on earth are you talking about? This is the first I’ve known about there being a problem with the roof.’
Jess crossed defiant arms. ‘And it’s not just your roof. There are other people having to deal with dodgy roofs and windows and goodness only knows what else. People who rely on you.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are, to speak to me like that?’ The words were out before he could filter them, and for a moment Jess looked as though he’d slapped her.
But she didn’t back down, instead her eyes narrowed, her anger – or maybe it was her prejudice – surfacing as she said, ‘And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Right there. Thinking you’re special, better than the rest of us.’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort.’ He huffed out a harsh breath. ‘I’ve been back here for five minutes, and suddenly I’m the devil incarnate?’
‘I just think that the lack of maintenance on the estate says more than you realise about the lack of respect you have for the people who have been living here all the time you’ve been away, never mind how little you care about the buildings they’re living in.’
What the hell had the gamekeeper been saying? The change in Jess’s attitude had completely thrown Sebastian. And it wasn’t even true; the things she was accusing him of weren’thisfault. They lay squarely at the feet of his dead father, not him.
He should keep the rest of his thoughts to himself, but her flare of irritation, the way she was freely criticising him for something he’d barely found out about, lit something in Sebastian, and he glared at her.
‘I think, Miss Wight, it would be better if you allowed me the time I need to adjust to my new role, rather than lambasting me about issues I wasn’t even aware of. We’re all here to do a job. Perhaps you should concentrate on doing yours and leave me to mine. If you’re not happy to be here, please feel free to leave. I’ll be happy to give you a reference.’
Miss Wight? What a pompous sod, Jess thought as she watched him sweep out of the attic space and clump down the stairs. Maybe she should call him Mr Brown. Drop the pretentious Barclay bit, remove the protection of the double barrel and get down to the brass tacks. Jess pursed her lips at the thought, then felt a hot wave of embarrassment roll over her. Why had she felt the need to be so inflammatory? What was she trying to achieve, apart from doing herself out of the job she’d only just begun.
He would be downstairs, right now, phoning the agency to complain about the awful woman they’d sent. Demanding a replacement. News would reach Vivi in no time that she’d failed again.
When was she going to learn to keep it buttoned, rather than spill her thoughts all over people as though she had no filter? To be fair, her filter hadn’t ever been particularly efficient; Jess had always been one to say it how it was. Some people called her blunt – others were less kind.
Sighing, Jess pulled her mobile from her pocket, speed-dialling Amina. Her number clicked through to answerphone – no doubt because Sebastian was already speaking to her – and Jess left a penitent message, explaining and apologising if she was causing her friend extra paperwork, promising to do better at her next deployment.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she was really that difficult to be around. Maybe it explained the series of foster homes she’d rotated through until she’d stumbled on Vivi – or rather, until Vivi had scooped her up and taken her in when she was at a particularly low ebb. Perhaps the only thing tethering Jess to this existencewasVivi, and now she’d gone and let down the most important person she’d ever known yet again.
She headed for the flight of stairs Sebastian had clattered down earlier, then took the staff staircase down to ground level to avoid running into anyone from the family before calling Digby to join her in her bedroom.
‘I think under twenty-four hours might be a record, Digby,’ she said, pulling her bag from the base of the wardrobe. ‘I suppose we could just spend Christmas at my place. Or with Vivi if she’s still speaking to me after this disaster. Not that I’m sure how I’ll pay the rent this month – or next, for that matter – if I’m not working. But at least we’ll be warm. And I won’t have to empty buckets of dirty water every five minutes, either.’
Jess should book a taxi, check on train times before she got too carried away with the thought of heading south. But, even if it would be with her tail between her legs, the prospect of returning home did have its benefits, she decided.
Chapter 6
Early December in the Highlands could bring a myriad of weather conditions, and this morning promised a cold nip in the air, so Dee wound a scarf around her neck. It was her favourite, soft cashmere in a subtle duck-egg blue, and a good twenty years old. If she remembered correctly, it had been her Christmas present from the children the year Olivia turned eight.
Their excitement had been palpable as all three of them presented the parcel to her that Christmas morning. She remembered thinking whoever had done the wrapping must have used almost an entire roll of sticky tape. Sebastian was so excited he’d told her what was inside before she’d even managed to get her finger under the edge of the paper and earned himself a thump from Olivia. Freya, tiny even at that age, was always more measured and reticent than the older two, and she’d waited behind them, a finger in her mouth as she watched.
Where had Henry been during that time? Dee realised she didn’t know. Hadn’t cared all that much. She’d been far too busy cuddling all three children as they squirmed around on her lap like overexcited puppies, arranging the scarf around her neck with a suitable lack of concern about the makeup she’d carefully applied in her dressing room.
The smudge of plum lipstick was still there as a stain on the fabric, and Dee made sure to tuck it to the inside whenever she wore the scarf. A private reminder of why she’d stayed. For her children.
With her storm-proof tweed jacket zipped up to meet the scarf, and the matching cap in one hand, Dee let herself out through the kitchen court. There was no sign of the temporary housekeeper, or the little dog she’d brought with her. To be honest, Dee was relieved. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to walk, to blow away some of the starched behaviour of the last few days, the politeness and correctness she’d shown all those wishing her well and expressing sorrow at the death of Henry. She wanted a few hours to shake off the restraint she’d had to muster following the discovery of her dying husband and the hysterical half-clothed housekeeper.
Dee planned to head out along the twisting tarmac of the track leading from the keeper’s cottage out into the nearest piece of woodland to the castle. To be lost among the majestic, tall pines for a while would ground her, allow the static electricity to escape from her body, to leach away into the forgiving soil of the Highlands.
The weak sunshine which edged through the clouds wouldn’t bring much light into the densest of the woodland, but at least it wasn’t raining.
The whining of the keeper’s spaniels caught Dee’s attention as she reached the yard area, and she caught sight of Robbie in his garden. The tug to know what he was doing was something Dee had trained herself to ignore, and she went to walk on.
Next thing she knew, four spaniels of varying colourways shot out through the open gate and began circling her legs, tails wagging ten to the dozen and noses tracking the tarmac, her boots, the wheels of Robbie’s four-by-four Nissan.
‘Oh, Your Ladyship. Apologies.’
