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I COULD SEE why Fiona wanted to protect her childhood home.
We arrived at Hayefield in the pouring rain. You know the kind that rained sideways and looked like someone had turned on a hose in the clouds? That rain. It hit the Bentley like automatic gunfire as we pulled inside two huge electric gates to a gatehouse in bath stone, yet Hayefield Manor looked like a huge palatial work of brilliance.
“Some place to grow up,” I mumbled to Fiona who gave my hand a squeeze.
The Bentley stopped, and I stared at Mrs Clarke beside me who pursed her lips. “Lady Haye doesn’t allow traffic on the estate.”
“Then Lady Haye can wait until I don’t need a snorkel.” I lifted up my hand which whirred and met Fiona’s eyes. “Electrics and water aren’t a good mix.”
“We don’t have time for that. Lady Haye is expecting you.” Mrs Clarke shook her head.
“Why haven’t you got your cover on?” Fiona asked and fussed over me. Bob always said that Fiona treated me like a naughty sister. I didn’t know why I was naughty, Fiona was the one who got pregnant on her first date with Bob. “Without the cover, it’s raining too heavily, Aunty Edwina.”
Mrs Clarke sighed and turned to the chauffer. “Drive us to the house.”
He just stared back. “Ma’am, I’m not allowed.”
“I know. I’ll explain.” Mrs Clarke nodded to him like that would help.
“Lady Haye doesn’t like traffic on the estate. You’re only allowed electric vehicles made to reduce vibration,” Fiona whispered to me. “She’s unmoveable on some things.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t,” The chauffeur said, nodding agreement with Fiona then he got out into the deluge and opened my door for me. He had a golfing umbrella but he could have had a marquee and I’d still get soaked.
“And I can’t walk in rain like this.” I shook my head. Disability wasn’t great for social interaction as it was but when you couldn’t do something simple everyone else just took for granted, off went the huge “not normal” siren. If I’d thought announcing I was marrying a woman stuck a neon sign on me, announcing I was less than capable was like having Blackpool Tower on my head.
“And I cannot drive to the house,” he said, rain pelting off the ground up at him and soaking his knees.
Fiona pursed her lips at him then looked to Mrs Clarke who pursed hers in much the same way.
I sighed. “Then I will.” I struggled through the seats and sat in the front. As suspected he’d left the keys in the ignition. “You give me permission, Mrs Clarke?”
“Yes,” both Mrs Clarke and Fiona said while glaring at the chauffeur.
I eased the Bentley into motion and stared out at the sunken lawn. “So tell me what I’m supposed to be doing as security?”
“You have three teams of staff. Lady Haye has recently taken them on. You are responsible for ensuring there is someone on duty at all times and that the perimeter is secure,” Mrs Clarke said as we headed up the long drive cutting through a sunken expanse of sweeping green with a willow-like tree with blossoms crowning the middle. A huge lake glinted in the dull light from the white puffy clouds as rain splashed up of its surface. “The shooting club is in attendance every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
Fiona nodded. “It’s the oldest gun club in the country.”
“She’s still allowing it?” I rolled my eyes—was I wrong but if an armed intruder shot someone on your property, and you had all that pucker private education, you’d have found the brains to ban firearms, right?
“You have an issue with gunfire?” Mrs Clarke asked like it wasn’t stupid.
“More with the bullets themselves and the idiots pulling the trigger.” I smiled at her, knowing I sounded police-like. It was a certain tone which had bugged my friends in sporting circles: impatient, overly assertive, too much in charge.
Fiona grinned at me and bumped my shoulder like she loved the sound.
“They shoot in the morning and late afternoon during the season,” Mrs Clarke said as if ignoring us and fussed over her ankle-length brown skirt. “It is essential that everyone stay out of the forest during those times.” She pursed her lips at the trees. “We don’t need any more unfortunate issues.”
“Because stopping them shooting wouldn’t be easier?” I glanced up at the huge pine trees packed together—and they were huge. You know the ones that are so massive you have to crane your neck to see the top? Their trunks were thick but ruler straight.
“It’s a tradition. Lady Haye likes to try and keep traditions as much as she can. They shoot targets now, not creatures though.” Fiona beamed at me like she really liked Lady Haye and she was delighted with her.
“The stables are behind us, down the road to the most southerly border of the grounds. There are prized studs and mares along with a riding school.” Mrs Clarke peered over her glasses. “That’s millions of pounds worth. There needs to be a patrol there every fifteen minutes.”
“Cameras?”
“Hundreds.” Mrs Clarke shook her head like I was an idiot as we crawled up the sloped gravel driveway.
“Then why didn’t anyone see Salisbury leave?” I folded my arms and looked at Fiona. “You would think someone would have.”
Fiona sighed. “The mist was in for the night. It comes off the moors and is so thick you can barely see a hand in front of your face.”
“The cameras also focus on the driveway. Lady Haye reduces light pollution as much as possible. There are only lights along the driveway during the night.” Mrs Clarke stared out at the rain. “But the light doesn’t help with the mist. We have Miss Salisbury leaving the arched gateway and that is all.”
“So why did she leave at three in the morning?” I stared at the palace-sized building in front. The windows, hundreds of them, glinted in the cloudy light. It had turrets and full castlements; round towers which had arrow windows slit in crosses. “Big for a manor.”
“Yes, she is a beauty, isn’t she?” Mrs Clarke said, sounding warm for the first time.
“It’s known as one of the best examples of Norman architecture, each generation contributing an addition of their own which is why the whole North side has floor-to-ceiling windows to take advantage of the view across the moors.” Fiona chimed it like a tour guide.
Mrs Clarke nodded, her eyes full of enthusiasm. “Yes, Lady Haye’s late father commissioned the renowned architect—”
“William Waddlesworth,” I said with a shrug. I had a semi-photographic memory and the Hayefield Manor website hadn’t been hard to find. “But he died before its completion.”
“Oh, you did your research.” Mrs Clarke beamed at me. “Lady Haye will like that.”
I pulled over next to an arched gateway tall enough for knights to have trotted through. “Doubt she’s going to like me much at all.”
“Oh, she will,” Fiona said like she hadn’t noticed Mrs Clarke’s shocked face. “You’ll love her too . . . you just have to understand she’s different.”
“As in?” And why was Mrs Clarke averting her gaze.
“You’ll see.” Fiona let through another resistance-crushing smile. “I know you will.”
“The information pack is in your room, your probation is six months. During which time the household will provide all food, clothing, etc.” Mrs Clarke got out and hurried under the shelter of the archway.
“Go,” Fiona whispered and went around my door and opened it for me. “If you need me, give me a call. Ruth doesn’t know I grew up here.” She tapped her nose.
“And if she finds out, you could share a cell with Lady Haye.” I pulled her into a hug to cover my words. “I mean it. You know how much you’re risking.”
“Yes, but I know you will find a way to help that will cover me.” She winked at me then sighed. “Lady Haye is beyond wonderful, I really looked up to her growing up. I know the risk . . . Bob . . . he doesn’t know.”
“Then get moving before someone photographs you here, yeah?” I hugged her again then stuck my hand inside my coat and hurried to Mrs Clarke.
A bullet of wind hit the back of my neck and I shivered. The arched gateway was two houses thick and a wind tunnel. There were a couple of doors each side inset in the huge stone walls. Place had a gloomy atmosphere but at least it kept the rain off.
“When you achieve a satisfactory level of service, your salary will commence,” Mrs Clarke said. “Fifty-seven thousand pounds a year.”
I stared at her, shivering through another blast of wind. “Did you say fifty-seven?”
“Yes.” Her smile was a veiled one. “You earn it.”
“Because you don’t in the police force?” I was grumpier than usual. Why had I bothered to lose half my arm? I could have just bummed around in an estate with a security uniform on and raked it in.
“You didn’t have Sophie to deal with there,” she mumbled.
I followed Mrs Clarke in through a door with “servants’ quarters” etched over it. “No, but all the criminals there were so easy to deal with?”
“They weren’t paying you.” Mrs Clarke showed me up a flight of narrow stairs to the left.
“Funny, because they liked to tell me they did.” The stairs turned right and grew steeper. My stomach was rolling and my sweat still stank of alcohol. Yuck.
“So will she.” Mrs Clarke stopped at the top of the stairs and did manage a smile, a really small one.
“Wow, I really want to prove her innocence now,” I muttered as Mrs Clarke led me down a narrow corridor then stopped outside a door.
“I am giving you fair warning. Fiona is upbeat about most people. She likes to see the good in people but innocent or guilty, when it comes to Lady Haye, don’t expect a heart.” She unlocked the door and held up the key. “I have taken the liberty of having the bed made. You may take advantage of the chamber maids, however they are not here to clean everything.”
“I’ll do my best to take complete advantage, thanks, and their cleaning.” I held her gaze, hoping my irritation was showing. “I’m not a servant.”
“No, but you need to look like one.” She held up the key. “I will wait out here. We have to be in Lady Sophie’s office in five minutes.”
I poked my head into the large room with an ensuite and raised my eyebrows. “It looks bigger than my flat.” It looked far more plush too. “I took up the wrong career, clearly.”
You know those hotels that fuse some ancient place with the most luxurious touches? The ones where they gave you a bathrobe with your initials on. Well above five star.
“You earn it,” Mrs Clarke said, again.
“So you keep saying.” I nodded and pulled a uniform off the hanger. “How did you know my size . . . ?”
“Fiona provided the information.” She nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her.
Of course she did, amidst breaking the law by photographing case files and roping me into being a security guard come private investigator for a potential murderer.
“Then remind me to send her a thank you note,” I mumbled to myself and started to change. Fiona said Sophie Haye was just different. Right. Should be interesting.