Viola had booked a place on a guided tour of Treweham Hall. She had decided to get a feel for the place as a member of the public, not part of the television film crew. That way she could get an insight into the place before announcing who she was, in case she was given a frosty reception. If Jamie was right – and she thought he probably was – the moment Tobias Cavendish-Blake got wind of any media sniffing around his home she’d be whisked off the premises.
Instincts told her to befriend Finula from The Templar as best she could, hopefully paving the way for a possible interview with Tobias, as she had soon cottoned on to the fact that they were good friends. In fact, Finula had been very open about how the Cavendish-Blakes played a crucial role in the village and were thought very highly of. She had mentioned a tradition held every year, the Landlord’s Supper, when the Lord of Treweham Hall held a dinner for all the residents on his estate. It dated back to medieval times, when the tenants all paid their rent to their landlord in return for supper and as much ale as they could drink. The custom was still upheld and proved a popular event in Treweham village.
Viola’s interest had been particularly piqued when a nearby customer, overhearing the conversation, had rumbled with laughter over the ‘fiasco’ of the last Landlord’s Supper. When Finula had brushed aside the remark, it had left Viola even more curious.
It was mid-October and the tours were due to stop soon, as the Hall would be closed to the public over the winter months and re-opening in early spring. As it was one of the last tours of the season, Megan had decided to take it, and she was rather looking forward to showing off the rooms for the last time that year. Her pregnancy was starting to show now. The small bump was getting more obvious, so that the couple had decided to announce their happy news to a very excited family. Beatrice had been beside herself with joy at having Celia’s guess confirmed, to the amusement of Tobias. Sebastian was elated at the prospect of becoming an uncle, whereas Aunt Celia had nodded her tight grey perm in approval with a knowing look. Megan’s family had been equally delighted, if not a touch surprised at the timing. Not knowing their daughter had already been pregnant at the wedding, they were a little taken aback.
*
‘Welcome to Treweham Hall,’ Megan greeted the small gathering.
Viola stood towards the back, sizing up the new Lady Cavendish-Blake. She was very pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way, Viola conceded, admiring her thick, glossy dark hair, cut neatly into a bob. She had a beautiful, fresh complexion too, thought Viola with envy. Viola herself had often struggled with spots and forked out a fortune on expensive concealers and make-up. Megan Cavendish-Blake had style too, with a designer dress and patterned silk scarf. On further inspection, though, Viola’s sharp eye clocked the slight bulge protruding from it. Was Lady Cavendish-Blake pregnant?
‘So, if you would like to make your way to the Chapel…’ Megan continued.
‘Is that where you got married?’ interrupted an excited lady at the front.
‘Yes, it is,’ replied Megan with a grin.
Smug cow, thought Viola with spite, but smiled with the rest of the party.
Viola made discreet notes throughout the tour, picking out points of interest for future reference. She had to admit she’d thoroughly enjoyed listening to the history of the Hall and wandering through the lavish rooms. She had been especially taken by the photographs in smart frames dotted around, depicting the Cavendish-Blake family life. Pictures of the late Lord Cavendish-Blake and his bride, two young boys riding on tricycles, one pale and blond, the other dark with a mischievous grin.
Viola was in awe of the recent portrait of Tobias, which had managed to completely capture his magnetism. To think that he had married a local village girl, when he could have had someone of much higher calibre. Viola stole another glance at the lucky woman who had bagged such a catch. She wasn’t that special, was she? No better-looking than herself, surely? Viola looked down at her svelte figure tucked flatteringly into skinny jeans, showcasing her pert bum. The tight, black jumper she wore outlined her curves, making her look voluptuous, she thought, although others might think it vulgar.
‘So, ladies and gentlemen, that concludes today’s tour. Please do feel free to visit the tearoom.’ A slight applause followed.
Megan made her way down the next flight of stairs to the tearoom where she had arranged to meet Finula. She didn’t really want tea and cake in their drawing room when she could mingle with the staff in the café, and besides, Tobias was there with Dylan. Megan enjoyed the banter and was looking forward to catching up with her best friend. There she was, sitting by the window. A beam of sunlight illuminated her red hair. On noticing Megan, she waved her over.
‘Hi, so good to see you!’ She hugged her hard, then quickly backed off. ‘Sorry, don’t want to squash your bump. You’re really showing now, aren’t you?’ Finula looked down at Megan’s stomach.
Megan gently patted it. ‘Certainly am.’ Once seated, and with a cream tea before her, Megan was keen to hear of any gossip. ‘So, the tall, dark stranger has arrived, then?’ she asked with a sly smile. She was, of course, referring to Marcus Devlin, the documentary producer who had made quite an impression on her friend. Finula had excitedly filled Megan in on all the details after her dad had taken the room bookings for the film crew.
‘Yes, and he’s as handsome as I remembered,’ gushed Finula, making Megan smile. Good, old Finula, she observed, always wearing her heart on her sleeve. She was an open book: what you saw was what you got, which was why she loved her. Megan was pleased that her best mate could have another chance to be happy, especially after being so crushed by Nick.
‘He’s had his hair cut shorter and grown a bit of stubble,’ Finula’s face was animated, ‘and it makes him look more rugged and sexier than ever,’ she said in hushed tones. Both girls giggled.
‘So, has he made a move yet?’ whispered Megan.
‘Give him a chance.’
‘He will. If he’s any sense.’
‘Bring it on,’ Finula laughed.
‘Well, he must be interested. I mean, why else send the photograph? I bet he’s got a duplicate, framed by his bedside,’ joked Megan. Finula’s head went back and she laughed loudly. It was good to see her in high spirits. Megan hoped Marcus Devlin was going to come up trumps.
Two tables away, behind a pillar, Viola sat listening intently. Well, well, well. So Finula had the hots for Marcus, did she? That could prove very useful indeed, especially if they needed him to dish the dirt on the village. What was that about a photograph, though? Clearly Marcus and Finula had met before, which explained why Marcus had seemed familiar with Treweham and The Templar at the meeting. And she was dead right about the pregnancy: obviously conceived before the marriage. So it was a ‘shotgun wedding’. That’s how the new lady of the manor had snared such a prize. It was the oldest trick in the book.
*
In the south wing Tobias and Dylan were discussing plans for the training yard. ‘Attracting clients from the Far East is definitely the way forward,’ Tobias stated, knowing full well the astronomical sums of money they would pay.
‘I agree,’ replied Dylan, nodding enthusiastically. ‘I’m amazed at the money they’re prepared to part with. Mind you, why not? I run a top-class training yard.’
‘On an ancestral country estate. That counts for a lot with some people.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Dylan, then paused. ‘I’ve been approached by a magazine for an interview.’
Tobias looked surprised. ‘You’re not doing it, are you?’ He had always assumed his friend’s opinion of the press was the same as his own.
‘Flora talked me round.’
‘Really?’ Tobias’ eyebrow arched higher.
‘Said it would be good for business. I think she has a point.’
Tobias mulled this over, his brow furrowed in contemplation. ‘Hmm, maybe.’
Perhaps Flora had a point. Tobias was beginning to see how the media might actually work in a positive way for him, for once.