68
‘Come on, Finula!’ shouted Marcus as he slammed down the boot of the Range Rover. As usual it was jam-packed with everything that Finula had managed to ram in. Although, to be fair to his wife, they would be staying at Treweham Hall for the foreseeable future. He still felt daunted by what lay ahead for him and Finula, whom he thought hadn’t fully grasped the situation. Whereas he was rather pensive, she seemed to be excited about living in the Hall. It bothered him that Finula didn’t appear to be prepared for the onslaught, or maybe he was being a tad dramatic?
Then he cast his mind back to Tobias and the way he had been hounded practically all his life. For Marcus, caution was his watchword, always had been. It was the way he operated, unlike his carefree wife. But then, wasn’t that what had attracted him to her in the first place? His mouth twitched whilst watching her fluster and faff about, double-checking she’d locked the door, patting her pocket to make sure her phone was there, looking inside her bag, then checking the door again. Finally, she clambered into the passenger’s seat beside him.
‘Phew!’ she puffed. ‘I think that’s everything done.’ She quickly glanced behind her to the back seat. ‘Did you see me pack my cookery books?’
‘Yes,’ he lied, half laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are.’
‘Why?’ she asked surprised.
‘Stop fussing.’ He leant over and kissed her. ‘Time to go.’
Finula grinned, she couldn’t wait to get back to Treweham; not that she didn’t like Shropshire – far from it – but she still regarded Treweham as home, and it was where her dad was. Plus, having Treweham Hall as a base meant living alongside her best friend and cutie-pie godson. She turned sideways and took in Marcus’ profile. That frown had come back. Recognising it as a sign of stress, she gently patted his lap. They exchanged a knowing smile and set off.
Within a couple of hours they were sweeping onto the gravel driveway of Treweham Hall. Finula’s heart gave a leap of joy as she saw Megan standing at the entrance, ready to greet them.
‘Leave your stuff. I’ll get Henry to sort it,’ she called.
‘How the other half live,’ muttered Marcus to himself. He grabbed his laptop, not wanting to leave that behind.
‘Megan!’ gushed Finula, hugging her.
‘Tobias is in a meeting, but he’ll join us later,’ Megan told them.
‘Hi, Megan.’ Marcus kissed her cheek.
‘I’ll show you your rooms – they’re amazing.’ She smiled.
‘Oh, I can’t wait to see them.’ Finula was at fever pitch. Marcus couldn’t help but be infected by her excitement. He had to concede that being in this huge fortress of a place left him feeling far more assured than at home in his humble cottage.
The documentary was due to be aired that night. Tobias had arranged for a large screen to be erected in the Hall library for all the family to watch together. Marcus was uneasy knowing that Beatrice, Tobias and Sebastian’s mam would be there too. It didn’t bode well having your husband’s first illegitimate son announced on TV for all to witness. Still, it was the truth, and it couldn’t be hidden forever, no matter how convenient Beatrice would find it.
For him, it was a small price to pay, considering all the hardship his mam had had to endure. A part of him was comforted, knowing she was finally getting some recognition, even though she wasn’t there to acknowledge it.
A cocktail of emotions ran through him as Megan led them to their rooms. It still hadn’t truly sunk in that this was his actual ancestral home.
‘OMG!’ Finula’s face lit up as they entered their drawing room. ‘It’s fabulous!’
‘I know,’ Megan agreed and looked to Marcus for his reaction. He couldn’t speak. Then after a moment’s pause he answered.
‘Thanks.’ It seemed somewhat of an understatement, but was heartfelt nonetheless.
‘Right, I’m going to leave you to settle in. Your stuff will be brought up shortly.’ Megan left, sensing Marcus’ apprehension. She recalled how Treweham Hall had intimidated her when first stepping inside its majestic walls. Typical of Finula though to come in guns blazing. She chuckled to herself at the thought.
A Green and Pleasant Land?was due to start at 9pm. It had been Marcus’ idea to put a question mark after the title, because the documentary was tackling burning issues about poverty and the homeless in comparison to the rich flourishing in country estates. At the time he was commissioned to produce the documentary, he’d been more than happy to expose the affluent, but back then his parentage hadn’t been in question. Now, the hint of hypocrisy left a bitter taste. It didn’t sit comfortably with him. Although he had Cavendish-Blake blood running through his veins, he hadn’t been born and bred into the aristocratic lifestyle. He was ill-equipped, untrained.
If only he could steal just a small sample of his wife’s enthusiasm, he thought bleakly, watching her gasp in awe at all the rooms. He had two hours to get his act together and compose himself. Two hours before he was sat in front of that large screen with all of them scrutinising his work. Two hours before the world would learn who he really was. Swallowing, he decided to take refuge and sink into that enormous bath.
‘Finula, I’m going to have a long, hot soak,’ he said, taking off his jacket.
‘Want me to join you?’ She raised her eyebrow and gave him a sexy grin.
‘Darlin’, I need some space.’ Then seeing her face fall, he quickly added, ‘Sorry, Finula, I’m just…’ He stopped and stared out of the window.
