“Did you know they arrested that murderer? The one who killed the man who bled out over the tulips in Arrow Woods?”
I choked on my toast. A particularly sharp piece got lodged in my throat, and it made my eyes water as I erupted into a coughing fit and covered my mouth with my hand.
Elizabeth, the Dowager Duchess of Worcester, looked at me with her eyes wide. “Adelaide, dear, are you quite all right?”
I managed to swallow most of the offending bite of toast before I reached for my glass of water and desperately glugged it down. Thankfully, it solved the problem, but my eyes still streamed.
“Goodness, have a tissue.” She plucked one out of a box and handed it to me, and I took it with a nod of my head.
She had those tissue boxes everywhere.
I wiped at my eyes, thankful I was still in my loungewear and not yet ready for the day. I could only imagine the state of me if I’d had mascara on.
“What’s going on in here?” Alexander, the Duke of Worcester and Elizabeth’s son, strolled into the kitchen looking like he was off to a business meeting with the Queen herself. “Adelaide, what’s the matter?”
“Death by toast,” Elizabeth replied before I could. “It’s why I prefer yoghurt. One doesn’t choke on yoghurt.”
We’d had this discussion daily for the last week since I’d arrived at Bentley Manor—never mind that this was the first time I’d choked, and it was solely down to the shock at her conversation starter.
“I’m fine,” I said, albeit a smidge scratchily. “I wasn’t prepared for your mother to bring up such a… macabre… subject.”
“Oh, Mother,” Alexander said, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting next to me at the table. “You haven’t been bringing up those conspiracy theories of yours again, have you?”
Elizabeth didn’t bat an eyelid as she slid him her empty teacup and saucer. “Only on days that end in Y, Alexander. No, I was asking if Adelaide had heard about the murderer that had been apprehended in Arrow Woods.”
“I’m assuming she had not, given the reaction.” He glanced at me.
“You assume correctly,” I said, pushing the remainder of my toast away from me.
I’d almost died once this morning. I’ll pass, thank you.
“Who did it?” I asked Elizabeth, turning my attention to the jug of orange juice and pouring myself some.
She adjusted her glasses and peered at the newspaper. “Edmund McMahon.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Eddie McMahon? Really? I went to school with him.”
“Mm. Battered the other man over the head, apparently.”
Alex put his mug down with a clatter. “Is this really breakfast conversation material, Ma? Poor Adelaide is turning green.”
Was I?
I probably was.
It was rather grim, wasn’t it?
“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth got up and fetched the biscuit tin. “Here. Have a biscuit.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied slowly.
“There are gingernuts. They’ll help with your nausea. You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
“Mother!” Alexander took control of the biscuit tin and pulled it away. “That’s impolite.”
“She didn’t answer.”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“I’m not pregnant.” The chance would be a fine thing. I hadn’t gotten any in months. “It’s just a little early for such graphic discussions about murder, that’s all.”
“Ah, you have a weak stomach.” Elizabeth nodded. “Good thing you aren’t here in the spring. Those sheep make a grand mess birthing their lambs.”
“Mother,” Alexander said, a tad firmer this time. “Do you not have anywhere to be? No doubt Adelaide would like to enjoy a peaceful cup of tea before Olympia wakes up and causes carnage.”
“Mm,” I replied. “We’re reading on the Kindle today.”
“The Kindle? What’s wrong with a real book?” Elizabeth sniffed as she stood up. “Everything is technologically driven and it’s a crying shame, if you asked me.”
I fought back a smile. “There’s a setting that changes the font to something easier to read for dyslexic children.”
She paused, her mouth forming a small ‘o.’
“I would like to have her reading a chapter book alone by the end of the summer, be that on paper or on the Kindle,” I continued. “She’s actually an extremely proficient reader, but she gets frustrated easily by the set up on paper books. I hope this setting will make it more enjoyable for her.”
Alexander hid a smile behind his mug.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, smoothing out her blouse. “That would make things easier, wouldn’t it?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“As do I.” She looked around uncertainly before she looked at Alex. “I’m going into the village. There’s a council meeting regarding the development of the skate park and I’d like to be a part of that.”
“You won’t convince them it’s a good idea,” Alex said blithely. “Despite what everyone wants, they won’t do it. They’d rather fetter the council tax away on vanity projects like getting the signs cleaned, ignoring that poor Gerald has done it for thirty years without pay. If they must pay someone, I’d rather they backdate his pay.”
“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Elizabeth said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. The ladies and I are on a warpath. The teenagers here need something to do before they get bored and trash the place. That youth club is only good for so long.”
“Yes, well, if I didn’t have this meeting this afternoon, I would be joining you.” Alexander stood and kissed her cheek.
“Perhaps a letter from you may help our cause. I’ll speak with Margaret and see what she thinks.” She returned the gesture before bidding me goodbye and disappearing through the door.
I peered after her. “I have heard her go on and on about this skate park and I still haven’t the foggiest idea about what’s going on.”
Alex chuckled as he sat back down. “The playground in the park was renovated around eighteen months ago. The old area has been cleared, but nobody knows what to do with it, so it was put to a community vote. The council wanted a café putting there for revenue purposes.”
“Of course.”
“But the community wanted something for the children, specifically the teenagers. The youth club at the church suggested a skate park or, what was it?” He tapped a finger against his stubbled chin. “I can’t remember. Either way, the skate park was the most popular option, but the council are vehemently against it.”
“Because they can’t sell the land to someone,” I guessed.
“Exactly. Someone floated the idea of buying it to build a skate park, but it was made quite clear that they wouldn’t give planning permission.” He sighed. “I try not to get involved in things like this, but I’m afraid Ma is right. After the teens hit fourteen, there’s no place for them at the youth club. It runs from six to ten and eleven to fourteen. The older teenagers are the ones we find get into trouble, minor legal issues and the like. If there was a skate park or something similar, it would give them something to do.”
“Why not get involved? Henry does,” I said, referring to his uncle and my best friend’s father, the Duke of Bath.
Another sigh. “I’m much younger than Uncle Henry. I don’t quite have the same standing in the community, and if I were to walk into a meeting and make my position known and have the council bend to my will, I fear it would set a dangerous precedent. Knowing the people here, I would be called upon for every minor dispute.” He shook his head. “No. I’ll write a letter expressing my agreement with the skate park, but it shouldn’t be made public.”
“Makes sense.”
“Would you like a cup of tea? I’m just waiting for Olympia to get up, then I’ll be leaving.”
“Oh, yes, please. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll get that, sir.” Boris the butler shuffled in with Olympia hot on his heels. “I found this one playing with the baby bunnies.”
Olympia grinned. “Sorry. I got distracted.”
“All the way across the house and halfway across the garden?” Alex’s eyebrows raised, but he smiled. “I’m sure you did. Have you had breakfast yet?”
“No.” She skipped over, still in her pyjamas, and sat opposite us. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Cereal or toast,” Alex replied. “You’re here late, and Mrs. Bell has already left for the morning to see to the café.”
She pouted. “I thought she was here all morning today.”
“No. Maybe you shouldn’t get distracted.”
“I guess I’ll have to have dippy eggs tomorrow.” Olympia sighed and rested her chin on her hand.
I tried not to smile. “I don’t mind making her dippy eggs if she wants them.”
Her face brightened.
Alex turned to me. “Thank you, but no. She has an alarm set and she knows to wake up with it and come down if she would like Mrs. Bell to make her some breakfast. Otherwise, it’s cereal or toast, both of which she’s capable of getting herself. Or, at the very least, that Boris may rescue for her when she sets the toaster wrong.”
Olympia’s face dropped once again, and I pretended not to hear Boris chuckling to himself.
Alex finished his cup of tea. “Right, I should get going.” He put his hands on his thighs and stood to walk around the table to Olympia. He took her face in his hands, bending down, and said, “No more distractions, all right?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“You do as Adelaide asks, and then same for Mrs. Berry. Understood?”
She nodded. “Can I see the baby bunnies after?”
“If you do all your tutoring and tidy your bedroom, I’m sure Peter won’t mind if you hang out in the barn for a little while. But you must do as you’re asked first.”
“Okay.” She reached out and hugged him tightly, and he reciprocated, kissing her on top of her head. “Bye, Papa.”
“Bye, baby. Please be good.”
“I’m always good.”
I hid a smile behind my cup of tea.
No comment, Your Honour.
“I’ll see you later, Adelaide, Boris.” Alex nodded to us.
“Bye,” I said brightly.
“Goodbye, sir.” Boris bowed his head, still holding a dishcloth and plate in his hands.
“Why do you call him sir?” I asked, looking to Boris. “And not my Lord?”
Boris blinked at me with his dark hazel eyes.
“I’m sorry. That was terribly rude and improper of me.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “Forgive me.”
His wide mouth broke into a smile. “Not at all. It’s a fair question.” He set down the plate. “I’ve worked for the family for a great many years, and after his father’s passing, the duke asked me to call him ‘sir’ instead of ‘my Lord,’ as he believed that to be a greeting for his father. I was happy to abide by his wishes and still am.”
“Oh, that makes a lot of sense. Sorry. I’ve been wondering since I arrived, and I’m not quite sure why it came out so abruptly like that.”
Olympia grinned and got up, turning towards the pantry.
Boris didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t you worry, Miss Astley. I’m sure the household here is a lot less formal than you’re used to with your family’s seat.”
No kidding. My uncle was the current Duke of Leicester and, much like my grandfather, kept to a strict, very traditional way of doing things. In the week I’d been here, I’d learnt that Alexander was very much not like that—his staff were a part of his family, and he addressed the older women on his staff by their married names out of respect, but many others were by their first name.
I liked it.
“Adelaide,” I replied with a smile. “Or Addy if you’re feeling fancy.”
Boris chuckled. “Adelaide will do just fine, if you’re sure.”
“Perfectly so.” I took the last mouthful of my tea and set the mug down. I knew better than to wash it myself, but I would set it next to the sink to keep Boris happy. “I need to get ready—would you mind keeping an eye on Olympia while I do?”
A noise that sounded suspiciously like cereal scattering across a tiled floor echoed through the kitchen.
“Oh, no!” Olympia cried from the pantry.
Boris set down his tea towel. “Don’t you worry yourself, Miss—Adelaide. I’ll see to Olympia and clean up whatever mess is in there.”
Olympia popped her head out of the pantry. “The Coco Pops exploded,” she explained. “Addy, are you suuure I can’t have dippy eggs? You can make them, right?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, kiddo. If your dad said no, it’s a no. I can’t overrule that.”
She sighed. “I guess I’ll sweep up, then.”
“That would be a very good idea.” I winked at Boris. “I’d like you in the library at ten-fifteen, please.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty.”
She looked at me before looking away, but she never quite met my eye. “Can’t it be ten-thirty?”
“No. Today’s session will start at ten-fifteen sharp. The quicker you start, the quicker you finish, and the quicker you can steal Mrs. Bell’s brownies and use them to bribe Peter with.”
Her jaw dropped. “How do you know I steal the brownies for Peter?”
I tapped the side of my nose with a grin. “Please sweep up that cereal, and I’m sure Boris will help you with your breakfast.”
He inclined his head. “Of course I will. Come along, Olympia. We’re running a tight schedule here this morning it seems.”
I held my laugh back until I’d gone upstairs to the wing where my room was located. Bentley Manor was far closer to a castle than a manor house, but the name had stuck sometime around the early eighteen-hundreds when a minor aristocrat had married a British princess and the estate had been gifted to the newlyweds. He’d insisted on naming the estate after him, and so it was.
I didn’t know where the Winthrop in the Winthrop-Bentley came from, but I was determined to find out for my own nosey machinations.
I really should have studied history at university instead of teaching.
It wasn’t like my writing was getting me anywhere, either.
After all, if it was, I wouldn’t be here, tutoring Lady Olympia Winthrop-Bentley for some extra cash, would I?
Not that I minded—not exactly. I’d discovered quickly into my teacher training that I was not a fan of trying to wrangle a large number of children into doing what I wanted them to do. Dropping out at that point seemed futile, and I hadn’t wanted to disappoint my parents, so I’d completed the training.
Through it, I’d learnt that I did enjoy tutoring individual children. Especially those who had extra needs, and Olympia was most definitely one of those. She was dyslexic and would soon be assessed for high-functioning autism.
And she was quite possibly the best little girl I’d ever met in my life, never willing to let anything get her down.
Well, anything other than the dippy eggs her dad refused her because she didn’t wake up on time.
Her dad.
Alexander Winthrop-Bentley, The Duke of Worcester.
Sigh.
If I had one more dream about that man, I was going to lose my mind.
I shut the door to my bedroom and leaned against it, closing my eyes.
I was one week in.
I could do another five.
Couldn’t I?