at all,’ she assured him. ‘Margaret, my assistant, was quite willing to take over.’
‘I’m pleased about that.’ After a moment or two, his fingers tightening slightly, he added, ‘Thank you for coming, my dear. It does an old man good to see someone so young and beautiful.’
‘Believe me, it doesn’t do a young man any harm either,’ Simon said lightly.
The two men exchanged glances that underlined a closeness Charlotte had only previously guessed at.
Turning his attention back to his guest, Sir Nigel went on, ‘I’m delighted you were able to track down Claude Bayeaux’s books. I’ll take a look at them when I’ve had the afternoon rest my nurse insists on. I’m afraid my illness means I’m in bed a lot of the time and can no longer play the part of host. But I’m sure my grandson will see that you’re not bored.’
Turning to Simon, he asked, ‘Do you have any plans for today?’
‘Indeed we do. I thought I’d show Charlotte round the house, then take her for a drive and a meal at the Oulton Arms, before we go on to the village hall to hear a Gilbert and Sullivan concert.’
‘Good old Gilbert and Sullivan! Well, my dear, I hope you enjoy it.’
‘Thank you, I’m sure I will.’
When the frail, papery hand released hers, she rose to her feet. ‘Now I’d better go and unpack my things before lunch.’
‘I hope you’ll come to see me again before you go back to London?’
‘I’d love to.’ She smiled at him, and, leaving the men together, headed for the door.
Pulling it to gently behind her, she heard Simon say, ‘The good Mrs Jenkins has sent you a pot of crab-apple jelly.’
‘Ah, splendid woman, she never forgets…’
As she retraced her steps to her room, Charlotte’s mind was on the indomitable old man and the quiet courage he’d displayed.
Recalling what Simon had told her of the family’s history, she decided that perhaps all the Farringdon men were fighters in their own way. Sir Nigel might be dying, but it was on his terms.
Once back in her pleasant room, she set about emptying her case. Packed with her overnight things and accessories was a grey chiffon dinner dress, and a skirt and top in shades of taupe and olive that Sojo—who was fond of bright colours—referred to with open contempt as funereal.
At the last minute, in case the weather stayed fine and Simon suggested a walk, she had added a pair of oatmeal wool trousers, a mulberry-coloured sweater, a pair of flat shoes and a hip-length jacket.
Deciding that the suit she was wearing was too formal after all, she changed into the skirt and top and brushed out her long dark hair.
She was preparing to take it up again when there was a light knock, and Simon’s voice queried, ‘About ready for lunch?’
Opening the door, she said, ‘I won’t be a minute. I just need to re-pin my hair.’
‘Leave it as it is.’ Taking her hand, he tucked it through his arm. ‘I like it that way.’
His touch sensitised her skin and sent little electric shock waves running through her. Concentrating all her attention on not giving herself away, she failed to catch his question and was forced to say, ‘Sorry?’
‘I asked what you thought of Grandfather.’
‘I liked him and admired his courage,’ she said unhesitatingly. ‘Considering how ill he is, he seemed very much in control.’
‘He has extremely strong views about life and death and what comes after, which serve to give him unlimited strength. Though he’s the first to admit he’s made some bad mistakes and suffered some grave disappointments, on the whole his life’s been good, and after what he describes as ‘‘a long and interesting innings’’ he isn’t in the least afraid to die. He’s already made it clear that when he does go, he doesn’t want either a dismal wake or a period of mourning. Instead he would prefer a celebration of his life, and then for things to go on as if nothing had happened.’
Certain now that he cared a great deal for his grandfather, she asked, ‘Will that be possible?’
‘It may not be easy, but, as it’s what he wants, I’ll do my best.’
Lunch proved to be an informal affair, served by a young maid and eaten in the light and airy morning-room. The simple fare, celery soup followed by a Quiche Lorraine and raspberries and cream, was delicious, and as they drank their coffee Charlotte said so.
‘Mrs Reynolds will be pleased. She prepared it herself, as the cook has flu. Incidentally, I’ve told her we won’t be in for dinner tonight, that with your agreement we’re having a meal at the Oulton Arms. I think you’ll find the place interesting historically, and the food, while nowhere near the cordon-bleu class, isn’t bad. However, if you’d prefer to eat somewhere more upmarket…’ Simon raised an eyebrow in enquiry.
‘No, the Oulton Arms sounds fine.’
‘In that case, when I’ve shown you round the house, we’ll take a leisurely drive through the estate and leave by the north gates. That route takes us through the park proper, where we graze both sheep and deer, and the wooded area.’
‘Are sheep the estate’s main source of revenue?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Not any longer. A few years ago an independent survey showed the estate was seriously overstaffed, but, as a lot of the families had been with us for several generations and wanted to stay, Grandfather was reluctant to ask anyone to leave. After consulting the people involved and listening to their ideas, we decided the best option would be to diversify and create new jobs. There were large areas of woods and pine forest standing idle, so we began to fell carefully, replanting with deciduous trees as we went. At the same time we went into pig breeding and poultry farming—specialising in rare breeds of pigs and hens—and into market gardening in a big way. The market gardening was a great success and we now have several farm shops and a growing trade in organic produce. As well as providing employment, the various ventures have proved to be extremely lucrative. Now fifty per cent of the profits go to children in need, and a charity that fights drug abuse and helps to maintain a series of hostels for the homeless…’
As well as simply being attracted, she was starting to like him, and she was ridiculously pleased to know that both he and his grandfather cared about people.
‘More coffee?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Ready to begin the Grand Tour?’
‘I certainly am.’
‘Then I suggest we start with the Great Chamber and the Long Gallery.’
Charlotte was staggered by the grandeur of the Great Chamber, and the elegance of the Long Gallery, which was lined with family portraits that ranged from the 16th to the 20th century.
‘If you’re interested,’ Simon said, ‘I’ll explain
