‘Terrifying?’
‘I was going to say indomitable, but you know her way better than me, so …’
‘I’m going to roll with formidable,’ Jess said. ‘With a capital F.’
‘I’ve been warned,’ he said, grinning as he layered a soft teal-blue waistcoat beneath his thick tweed coat and zipped everything up to his chin.
Jess finished sorting Digby and slipped into her padded jacket. With the outside temperature dropping lower every day, she went full-on arctic, checking she had gloves and a woolly hat before Sebastian pulled open the external door.
They walked briskly towards Kirkshield, with plumes of white breath circling away from them like puffs of steam from a tiny locomotive.
It was still early, and frost clung to everything – grass, stone, hedge, it made no difference. Drops of glistening, pearlescent beauty were everywhere, like the whole vista had been created as a lavish photo opportunity. Even the tarmac of the lane was slippery, and Jess skidded a couple of times before she got to grips with the conditions. She couldn’t help her squeal the first time she nearly tripped, but the second time left her feeling breathless – mainly because Sebastian had grabbed her elbow to stop her from falling. His touch had been surprisingly welcome, under the circumstances, and although his hand had lingered for no more than a couple of seconds, Jess could feel other parts of her body warming at the contact. As she moderated her stride, she became confused by her body’s reaction, and how her disappointment had spiked once she’d regained her footing and he’d sunk his hand back into a deep pocket.
On entering the village, Jess was struck again by how picturesque the place was. She stopped on the bridge over the river Kirk, turning on her heel to look back the way they’d come, noticing for the first time how visible the castle was from here. She paused, staring at it. She’d expected it to loom over the village like a brooding crow, full of portent and oozing a feeling of dominance over its subjects. Instead, with the glaze of frost softening its edges, the castle looked solid. Dependable. Like whatever might happen in the world, it would always be there for the village, ready to support and protect.
Sebastian stood at her shoulder, his gaze also on the castle.
‘I’m going to consider selling,’ he said.
Jess swung around to face him. ‘You are?’
‘I’m not sure there’s any feasible alternative.’
He didn’t look delighted by his declaration, didn’t seem as though the idea of getting rid of the millstone around his neck was going to make him feel any better at all. If anything, as they walked on, he looked completely conflicted by the possibility.
The low gate into the cottage garden at the front of the Macwarren property took some negotiating. The spring on the catch was long gone and Sebastian managed to pinch a finger in the mechanism trying to hold it open as he pushed on the gate. Another repair to add to the estate manager’s list.
Although, if the entire estate was purchased by a big development firm, the problem would no longer be his. The houses would be fully renovated, and the villagers would be able to call on a management team to sort out their grumbles and snagging issues. Everyone would be much happier.
In the Macwarrens’ garden, the square borders containing perennials and low bushes had been pruned back for the winter, and a trellis around the door held a mature rambling rose. Sebastian was wondering what colour its flowers were as his knock on the door was answered by Isla Macwarren.
‘Oh, Your Lordship. I didn’t realise you would be visiting too … It’s wonderful to see you.’
Whether she meant it or not, Sebastian decided to take her words at face value. ‘It’s lovely to see you too, Isla.’
Then her bright expression faded. ‘We were so sorry about your father.’
‘It’s been a difficult time,’ he said, the words seeming to have worn a groove in his throat.
‘I’ll bet you’ve said that a time or two,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Bad business.’ Then she caught herself, as though she realised what she’d said could be misinterpreted. Her expression brightened as she looked past him to Jess. ‘And you must be Vivi’s niece. Come away in, both of you. Come in out of the cold.’
‘Thank you.’ Sebastian stood back to allow Jess entry to the cottage, stooping to pass through the lintel and into the tiny hallway. The stairs were directly in front of them, and there were doors to either side, one of which was ajar.
‘We’re in here,’ Isla pushed wide the door and ushered them into a room where a fire roared in the grate. To the side of the fire sat a small old lady, a walking frame beside her.
‘I’ll go and find Craig,’ Isla said. ‘He’s out back somewhere, but he’ll want to see you, Your Lordship.’
‘Please, call me Sebastian,’ he said, a prickle of discomfort at the unearned formality edging its way up his spine as he turned to the woman seated by the fire.
‘If you’re expecting me to stand, I’m going to have to disappoint you.’ Although her physical frame was diminutive and there was a pillow cushioning her hip, Aunt Vivi’s gaze was sharp and focused. It was obvious she was starting as she meant to go on, her voice strong and unapologetic.
Sebastian appreciated her forthright attitude, but he was confused. The lady was far older than he’d imagined from Jess’s description. Jess was in her early twenties, so as her aunt, he’d expected Vivi to be in her fifties, maybe sixties at most. His frown must have showed as he bent to shake her hand. ‘Aunt Vivi, I presume?’
‘You look confused, young man. Jess, did you explain properly?’ Without waiting for Jess to respond, she said, ‘It never quite seemed right for her to call me her mother, with the age difference, you see. So, we settled on aunt. It works for us.’
Her words hadn’t provided the clarity he needed. Having assumed the two were blood relations, he now wasn’t sure he’d got it right.
Jess tugged in a deep breath. ‘Vivi’s my foster mum, that’s what she’s trying to say.’
