Dermot looked sideways at his daughter and sighed. She looked a complete state, with her tired, white complexion and dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. It had been five days since Marcus had left and Finula had grown progressively more and more miserable as each one passed. Obviously the two had not been in touch. He didn’t want to pry, but he was starting to feel genuinely concerned about his daughter’s health. She was losing weight, having hardly touched food. When he’d found Finula sobbing uncontrollably on Boxing Day, she’d briefly told him what had happened and Dermot had stared at her incredulously.
‘You argued over Tobias?’
‘Yes, Dad. He used me,’ she answered indignantly.
‘Finula, Tobias is a grown man. He wouldn’t have done anything he didn’t want to. Presumably he was paid for the interview?’
‘Well… yes…’
‘And I take it Marcus has got back safely to Shropshire? Seeing as how you sent him home well over the limit,’ he asked in a steely voice.
Finula’s head shot up. ‘Oh God, I… I don’t know.’ Her bottom lip quivered.
Dermot shook his head in exasperation. ‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered, and walked away.
Finula was on the verge of yet another breakdown, when her mobile interrupted her. It was Megan.
‘Hi, Finula, had a good Christmas?’
‘No,’ came the dull reply.
There was a pause. ‘Need to talk?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m on my way.’
‘No. I’ll come to you.’ She needed to get away from The Templar and the judgemental looks her dad kept throwing at her.
It didn’t take long for Finula to hotfoot it to Treweham Hall. She was glad of the change of scenery. Not for the first time, she was seriously considering a life away from The Templar.
Megan was sitting alone by the open fire in the drawing room when Henry showed Finula in.
‘Finula, whatever’s the matter?’ Megan’s eyes shone with concern. Finula sat next to her on the settee.
‘Megan, it’s all gone badly wrong.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
Finula filled Megan in, not sparing any detail, even though it involved Marcus’ dislike of Tobias. Megan sat and listened.
‘Why do you think he’s so secretive about his upbringing?’ Megan asked, narrowing her eyes. ‘And why has he taken a dislike to Tobias?’
Finula shrugged. The two sat still, contemplating. Then Megan faced Finula. ‘Do you think there’s a link between the two?’
Finula frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I once commented to Tobias that he reminded me of Marcus.’ She paused, remembering the look of contempt on her husband’s face. Finula’s mind started to tick into overdrive. The green eyes, speckled with amber… she too remembered pointing out the likeness of Tobias to Marcus in the portrait. He didn’t like it, refusing to see the resemblance, though it was so clearly there.
‘I once asked Marcus about his dad and he clammed up, saying he was dead and he had never met him.’ The two stared at each other. Then something else crept into Finula’s head, from the day they had filmed inside Treweham Hall. She vividly remembered Marcus standing outside Richard Cavendish-Blake’s study when she’d met him at the top of the stairs. Had he really just taken pictures of the chapel? She voiced her thoughts to Megan.
‘Follow me,’ Megan answered, getting up from the sofa.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To Richard’s study,’ she said over her shoulder.
Finula’s heart began to pound. Had they stumbled across something?
Entering the room, packed to the ceiling with ledgers, they both scanned the many shelves. One of the spines stood out slightly.
‘Look, there!’ Megan pointed to the book edging out of line from the others.
Finula quickly reached up and took it from the shelf, her heart now racing in anticipation. She squinted at the side of it: there was a slight gap in the pages, indicating where it had last been opened. Carefully, she reopened it to the same page. Both Megan and Finula’s heads eagerly bent over it. Finula ran her finger down the list of names on the left-hand side, then stopped.
‘Anne Devlin,’ she whispered. ‘That must be Marcus’ mum.’
‘Marcus’ mum worked here, at Treweham Hall?’ Megan asked in astonishment.
‘Yes, look, in the kitchen.’ Finula followed her finger across the page. They looked at each other in amazement. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ asked Finula.
Megan slowly nodded. ‘I think so.’ Then she looked towards the glass cabinets she knew contained her late father-in-law’s diaries. Finula followed her gaze. ‘They’re Richard’s diaries, locked away. Tobias will have the key,’ Megan told her.
‘We need get to them and read them, don’t you think?’ Finula urged.
Megan nodded. ‘I’ll speak to him.’