certainly did. I’ve taken charge for once, and I’m making damned sure I look after you for a few days. So stop arguing.’
Sitting back in the chair, Elizabeth was lost for words, but finally spoke, found herself saying, ‘I will have to be back in time to have tea with Aunt Grace Rose on Sunday afternoon, Robin. She’s looking forward to it … I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.’
‘Then we shan’t.’ He grinned, knowing he had won, then jumped up and went round to her side of the desk. He pulled her to her feet, said, ‘Come with me for a moment, I want to show you something.’
Nodding, suddenly no longer resistant to him, she allowed herself to be propelled from her office into his. Holding her hand tightly, he led her to the credenza which stretched along one entire wall in his office.
‘Look at this. Isn’t it beautiful?’ He slid his hand over the highly polished wood, and went on, ‘This looks like one piece, but actually it’s two credenzas sitting side by side, from the Regency period. Just look at the mahogany, the sheen on it … isn’t it gorgeous, Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, the wood is extraordinary, and so are these two pieces. They’ve been here for donkey’s years … I remember how my father used to admire them.’
‘They were bought for this room by a man called Will Hasling. He was your great-grandfather’s best friend, and this was his office.’
‘How interesting. I didn’t know that.’ She looked at him in puzzlement. ‘Why are you suddenly bringing my attention to them?’
‘Do you remember how I was sorting through a lot of keys last week?’
She nodded. ‘Hundreds and hundreds.’
‘Ever since I took possession of this office, after Mary’s assistant Neil Logan went on sick leave, I have attempted to open the cupboards in the credenzas. But I’ve had no success. None of my keys fit. Until last night.’ He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a small old brass key, showed it to her.
‘This is the one that opened the cupboard doors. It’s not the correct key, it doesn’t belong to the credenzas, but somehow it fits these locks. So I didn’t have to have the locks removed, and so saved a lot of damage to the antiques.’ As he was speaking, Robert opened the cupboard doors, and pulled out a drawer. ‘The folder I gave you was in here, under a pile of magazines, newspapers, and other folders. Neil Logan more than likely has forgotten about the file, and where he put it. How is he, by the way?’
‘I spoke to his wife the other day, and she told me his nervous breakdown wasn’t really that at all. His doctors think he has the beginnings of dementia. I told her not to worry, that I was retiring him on a pension. She was very relieved.’ Stepping closer to the credenzas, Elizabeth looked at the set of interior drawers, and glanced up at Robert, asked, ‘Was there anything else in these … of importance?’
‘No,’ he answered. ‘Just the note I gave you.’
‘I’m glad you persevered with your keys.’ Elizabeth laughed unexpectedly. ‘And I’m glad you’re taking me to Waverley Court. When are we going?’
‘This evening,’ he answered firmly, laughing with her, adding, ‘And don’t start arguing with me again.’
When you stay away from a beloved house for a while, you sometimes forget its beauty and what it means to you. And that’s the way it was with me. Earlier this evening, when Robin and I arrived here in Kent, I remembered that Waverley Court has been a special place for me for as long as I can recall. Kat made it into a home for me, and over the years I learned every part of it by heart … all the little corners, and secret places, hidden rooms, and parts of the garden that are mine and mine alone. I love the gazebo, and the stretch of beach that faces towards the English Channel where I used to go as a child with Kat, and she would point out the lights of France, twinkling in the far distance as if they were beckoning to me. Waverley Court is at its best in spring and summer, but even in the autumn and winter the grounds are beautiful. Kat and Blanche, with the help of Toby, used to make the downstairs rooms spectacular at Christmas. There was always a big tree hung with glittering ornaments and tiny fairy lights; sprigs of holly sat atop paintings and a bunch of mistletoe was tied to the chandelier in the front hall. Christmas. It would be upon us in a couple of weeks now. Perhaps we could come down here, Robin and I, and have an old-fashioned Christmas in Kent. I shall suggest it to him. I think he might enjoy that. I know I would. I want to spend Christmas with him. Robin is the only family I have, the closest to me.
‘I bet you slept well,’ Robert said, staring at Elizabeth across the breakfast table on Friday morning. ‘Being in a room one knew as a child is always … comforting, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I did have a good night’s sleep,’ Elizabeth answered. ‘And naturally I love my old room, but I was just dead tired last night. I could hardly keep my eyes open over supper.’
Robert grinned. ‘Aren’t you glad I persuaded you to come to Waverley Court?’
‘Persuaded me! What a cheek you have, Robin Dunley. Commandeered me would be more like it.’
‘Sometimes I have to do that, just as I did in the past,’ he shot back, his grin intact.
She smiled, made no comment.
Robert said, after a moment, ‘Shall we go riding this morning?’
Her head came up with a start, and she seemed puzzled. ‘There aren’t any horses here.’
He looked at her for a long moment, and then that wicked grin she knew so well spread across his face. ‘Yes, there are. Two. One for me and one for you, Crimson Lass and Straight Arrow. They arrived this morning. I had brother Ambrose send them. So how about it?’
Surprised and delighted, she laughed and jumped up. ‘I can’t wait. What a clever idea of yours … Come on, let’s go and get changed into our riding togs.’ She gave him a sly look. ‘Since you must have made the arrangements with Ambrose yesterday, I know you brought yours with you.’
‘I did.’ He rose, followed her out of the breakfast room, and crossed the entrance hall. Together they climbed the stairs, and when they came to her room, he said, ‘I’ll meet you in the stables in ten minutes.’
Robert galloped on, chasing Elizabeth, hard on her heels. She was riding hell for leather, approaching the highest fence on the property, and his heart was in his mouth. He was afraid for her, certain she wouldn’t clear the fence properly, that the horse’s hooves would catch against it, and that she would be thrown. And injured.
Always intrepid and fast, when they were youngsters, he realized she had become an even more fearless rider since those days, and was not against taking risks. Since they had set out, over an hour ago now, she had raced across the fields surrounding Waverley Court, following the trails they had opted for as children.
Suddenly the fence was there! Right in front
