A Winter’s Tale (51 page)

As soon as the ribbon fell to the ground a great stream of people started to rush past me, rather like the start of a marathon.

‘How do you think that went?’ I asked Seth, as he leaned over to switch off the mike.

‘Fine. But brace yourself, here come the press,’ he warned, as they converged on me.

*   *  *

‘That went very well, I think,’ Mr Hobbs remarked, when most of the assorted reporters and camera crews had rushed off into the house, or were standing about with their phones to their ears. To my embarrassment, I had been interviewed on TV—as had Aunt Hebe, in full farthingale.

‘Miss Hebe looked magnificent, didn’t she?’ he added, but I had spotted a latecomer, a small, frog-faced man, plodding up the drive.

‘Excuse me, Mr Hobbs, but I can see a very unwelcome visitor arriving. Do you remember when I consulted you about the phone call from the nephew of my old employer? Don’t go away for a moment, will you?’

I stepped forward as he pushed through the VIPs to get at me. ‘Conor, what are you doing here? I’m in the middle of opening the house to the public.’

‘Brazenly wearing a stolen piece of jewellery to do it!’ he said loudly, practically spitting with rage. ‘And I had to purchase a ticket before they would let me through the gate!’

Guy, who was right behind him, said apologetically, ‘I didn’t like to radio ahead to warn you, in case you were still speaking, but I thought he looked a bit deranged so I followed him.’

‘Thanks, Guy. And I do know him—unfortunately.’

‘Yes—you know me well enough to realise that I meant it when I said that your theft would not go unpunished, if you refused to return my aunt’s possessions—’

He broke off, for Aunt Hebe had reappeared, escaped from her own bevy of excited photographers, in time to hear his last sentence. She was a truly magnificent and, it has to be said, slightly scary sight, in full Queen Elizabeth mode, including red-gold wig and a sceptre.

Conor’s mouth dropped open.

‘Who is this man accusing my great-niece of theft?’ she demanded. ‘A
Winter
! How dare he!’

I thought that was a bit rich, since family connections had been well and truly tarnished on national TV by Jack’s revelations. Unfortunately, Conor had also seen the programme, for he rallied and said, ‘Ha! That would be the Winter family related to the Lewises, who defraud elderly widows out of their houses, would it?’

‘Well, you should know, Conor,’ I said tartly. ‘It’s just what you did to Lady Betty, only worse—you killed her.’

‘He
murdered
her?’ Hebe exclaimed.

‘Just about. He got her to sign a power of attorney while she was in hospital after a fall, then he had her put into a nursing home and wouldn’t let her back. He took over completely.’

‘Rubbish!’ he blustered. ‘My great-aunt lost her mental faculties after a fall. And in any case, it is beside the point. Sophy persuaded her to hand over two items of valuable jewellery—a brooch and a necklace—and I want them back.’

Aunt Hebe turned to me. ‘Do you indeed have these items?’

‘She’s wearing one. That bee brooch there is mine!’

‘Lady Betty did give me this brooch, but I don’t have the necklace, she gave that to someone else at the same time, while she was first in hospital and fully in possession of her faculties.’

‘Rubbish. The receptionist at the nursing home says she had it when she arrived there, and
then
saw you wearing it after your last visit!’

‘She’s lying.’

‘Prove it!’

Mr Hobbs, who had looking on as if watching a puzzling play, said, ‘My dear sir, before making this kind of allegation, you should check your facts properly. There is indeed proof that Miss Winter is speaking the truth and I have verified it.’

I dug into my bag and produced a folded sheet of paper. ‘I think Lady Betty had already begun to suspect your motivation when she gave me the brooch, and the cook, Mrs Dukes, the necklace. She insisted on signing a statement saying what she had done and had it witnessed by the vicar, who had known her for over thirty years. So you see, you’re not going to get them back.’

His mouth opened and closed. ‘Forged,’ he said at last. ‘You’ve discovered how valuable they are and—’

He yelped as Aunt Hebe smote him across the head with her sceptre. It was only plastic, fortunately, but it still made him stagger about, clutching his ear.

‘I’ll have the police on you! Assault—theft—’

‘Actually, I
am
the police,’ said Mike, who must have arrived while I was distracted.

‘Then I wish to charge this woman with assault and—’ began Conor.

‘
I
didn’t see any assault,’ Mike said. ‘Did anyone else?’

‘No,’ we all chorused.

‘And if you attempt to charge my client with the theft of a brooch to which she has a perfect right, we will countersue for defamation of character,’ said Mr Hobbs.

Conor glared around impotently at the circle of hostile faces. ‘You ought at least to pay me the value of it. The yellow diamonds alone are worth—’

I squinted down at it. ‘Diamonds? I thought they were crystals! But whatever it is made of, it doesn’t matter. I love it because Lady Betty gave it to me, not for any other reason, and I’m still not giving it up.’

‘I am afraid you haven’t got a leg to stand on, Mr Darfield,’ Mr Hobbs told him with finality. ‘I would advise you to leave now, before charges against you are pressed.’

‘Yes, perhaps I should escort you to the gate,’ suggested Mike. ‘It’s time I was off, in any case.’

As they vanished down the drive I said, ‘Thank you, Mr Hobbs—and Aunt Hebe, you were magnificent.’

‘I know how to deal with
his
sort,’ she said regally. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I want to see how my products are selling in the shop, and then change and get back to the garden.’

‘Why don’t you go and have tea with Mr Hobbs first, before the rush starts? I should think most people are still outside yet.’

‘I suppose I could,’ she agreed.

‘And I had better go and do the rounds, see how everything is going on,’ I said absently as a tall figure came into view in the distance, a giant among a family of Japanese tourists. Seth seemed to be directing them into the maze, and I just hoped he would rescue them later if they got lost, for I was sure they would not be able to see over the top of the hedges.

Mr Glover, ruffed and carrying his quill and furled parchment, scurried furtively along a distant path, shadowed at a respectful distance by several visitors. He turned his domed bald head in my direction briefly, then was gone.

When it all got too much for him, I had given him directions to hide in the fern grotto, which was out of bounds to the public. I made a mental note to have a tray of refreshments taken down there later. The poor man would have earned it.

It was late afternoon before things started to quieten down, and I managed to snatch a break, sitting on a bench on the top terrace with Ottie and Hebe (now attired in more mundane cord trousers and a padded gilet).

In fact I was feeling exhausted but very happy, when two things happened to make it rain on my parade: Jack suddenly appeared from the house, and then I spotted Mel
Christopher and Seth talking together below. She looked up, then headed towards the steps, trailed by Seth.

‘Jack, dear boy!’ Aunt Hebe said. ‘We didn’t know you were coming! Didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be able to make it?’

‘That was before I read the newspaper this morning!’ he said, and I could see he was furious. ‘Didn’t any of you think to share your fascinating little discovery with
me
?’

‘I didn’t know either until this morning,’ Hebe said. ‘They kept me in the dark too—but it is quite wonderful, isn’t it?’

‘You’ll certainly be raking the money in now, Sophy. And this poem, or whatever it is, will be worth a fortune!’

‘It doesn’t matter what it’s worth, we won’t be selling it,’ Ottie said. ‘But it certainly won’t do visitor numbers any harm!’

‘And don’t you think you should give
me
a share in all this?’ he demanded angrily.

‘Share in what?’ asked Mel from behind him. ‘Jack, I thought you might be here. I want a word with you!’

‘Not now, Mel,’ he said impatiently.

‘It’s never now—and things are getting a little
urgent
,’ she snapped.

‘You know, I had an interesting phone call from an old friend the other day,’ Ottie said conversationally, but in carrying tones. ‘I’d asked her to check some rumours out for me—and guess what? Jack and Melinda are married.’

‘Married?’ I gasped, turning to stare at Jack, the man who had been professing love and pressing me to marry him, all this time. ‘Are you
sure
? I mean—’

‘Yes, they married quietly in London, a short time before William died. Presumably they kept it quiet because he disapproved of Mel.’

Hebe paled. ‘Surely there is some error? Jack—’

But he was looking at me, blue eyes earnest. ‘We soon realised it was a mistake, Sophy! When I went down to make her an offer for the house…well, one thing led to the other. But we’re getting divorced.’

‘And you owe
me
, for agreeing to keep quiet about it, all this time!’ Mel snapped.

‘Oh? And does poor old Seth know anything about it—or that he’s been replaced by your rich new lover in London?’ Jack said nastily.

I was so stunned by all this that I had entirely forgotten that Seth had followed Mel, until he took two hasty strides forward and felled Jack with a single blow. Then he stood back, breathing heavily.

Jack got up slowly and warily. ‘I suppose I deserved that.’

Seth frowned and examined his skinned knuckles. ‘Actually, I’m not sure you do. Maybe you deserve an apology instead, since I’d no idea Mel was married to you when she came back here or I wouldn’t have—’

He broke off and turned on Mel. ‘You lied to me.’

‘It was always you I loved, Seth,’ she said nervously, taking a step back.

‘I can’t imagine why you and Jack got married in the first place,’ Ottie said frankly, ‘except that you are both shallow, grasping types. I suppose like called to like.’

‘Thanks, Ottie,’ Jack said, with a glimmer of humour.

‘Jack thought I was a hugely rich widow,’ Mel said sweetly, ‘but actually, Clive tied all his money up in his children, without telling me, the bastard. All he left
me
was that monstrosity of a house and a small annuity. But then it turned out that Jack wasn’t rich either and he didn’t even get Winter’s End. I always rather fancied living here, a Lady.’

‘You’d never be a lady, because you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,’ Ottie said frankly. ‘So you fell out when you discovered each other’s lack of cash?’

Mel nodded sulkily. ‘Jack said if I kept quiet about the wedding, he’d pay me off when Sophy signed Winter’s End over to him and I could have money
and
you, Seth. I always loved you!’

Seth’s arms were folded across his broad chest, probably to stop him hitting anyone again. ‘I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.’

‘Actually, you have made a slight error of judgement, Mel, because Seth is by no means penniless and he will be
very
well off one day,’ Ottie said. ‘I’ve been raking in the money for my sculptures for years, plus my investments have done rather better than Hebe’s, and I’ve left everything to him. He’s as close to a son as I’ve got.’

‘
What?
’ Melinda looked from one to the other. ‘I thought you would leave everything to Sophy!’

‘I’ve given her a sculpture—if she gets desperate she can flog it. Mind you, if Seth is daft enough to marry you once you’ve divorced Jack, I might be tempted to change my will.’

‘I won’t be,’ he said. ‘Her new, rich lover in London can have her.’ And, turning on his heel, he walked away.

‘Seth!’ wailed Mel, running after him and catching at his arm, but he shook her off. She looked back at us and then trailed away.

‘So everything you said to me was just a sham, Jack?’ I said sadly. ‘I never really believed you were in love with me, but to find you’d been trying to cheat Winter’s End out of me like that…’ I shook my head, tears welling.

‘Sophy darling,’ he said, hurt, ‘of course I love you! I meant every word, and we’d have been married the minute my divorce came through. We still can be, if—’

‘Oh, shut up!’ I said shortly, the tears popping right back into my ducts. ‘You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you on the ear.’

His smile became more genuine. ‘I do love you, Sophy—you’re so
acerbic
!’

‘Well, come to that, I suppose I still love you, in a way—warts and all. But like a brother.’