Mansfield Lark

‘You can forget it, then,’ Dominic muttered.

‘–but once those requirements are met, Natalie would very much like to hold her wedding reception at Mansfield Hall.’

‘Wedding reception?’ Dominic all but choked on his beef and had to be slapped on the back, rather forcefully, by Gemma. ‘At Mansfield?’

Lady Mary nodded as she speared a piece of lobster. ‘Yes, she wants to marry Rhys Gordon, and Mansfield Hall is her venue of choice.’ She paused. ‘Well? What do you think, darling?’

‘What do I think? I think it’s a bloody mistake, that’s what I think!’ Dominic erupted. ‘If Nat wants to ruin her life by marrying that foul-mouthed twat, let her. But she’s bloody well not doing it at Mansfield bloody Hall!’

And with that, he thrust his chair violently back and stormed out of the dining room.

After lunch, Dominic and Gemma rode up the lift in frosty silence and returned to their hotel room. Gemma, more than a little put out by Dominic’s violent reaction to news of Natalie’s upcoming wedding, refused to speak to him.

As Dominic opened their door, a flood of water and a partially collapsed bedroom ceiling greeted them. ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed. ‘Good thing I didn’t bring the Strat along.’

‘Never mind your guitar,’ Gemma snapped, ‘what about my clothes? They’re ruined!’

And indeed, water had burst from the sprinkler system overhead and had soaked the clothing Gemma had left strewn all over the bed and floor earlier. Her shoes were filled with water, and her handbag was beyond redemption.

There was a discreet knock on the door behind them. ‘Excuse me,’ the bellboy said, ‘but the sprinkler system’s malfunctioned. We’re asking our guests to vacate until we can get the pipes repaired. It might take a couple of days.’

‘Vacate?’ Gemma shrilled, and rounded on him. ‘And where are we to go, exactly? The very least this poxy hotel can do is put us up somewhere else, all expenses paid! And while you’re at it, I want every piece of clothing that your fucking frozen pipes have ruined replaced!’ Then she burst into noisy tears.

Terrified, the bellboy muttered an apology, said he’d look into the matter at once, and fled.

Dominic put his arms around her. ‘It’s okay, babes,’ he soothed her. ‘I’ll buy you new stuff. And we can crash at Mansfield for a couple of days, no problem.’

She pushed him away. ‘Don’t touch me! You made it very clear at lunch today that you’re still in love with Nat, the way you went on about her wedding—’

‘What?’ He stared at her in consternation. ‘I’m not “still in love with Nat”,’ he protested, ‘because I never loved her in the first place! We’re good mates, Nat and I, and that’s all. I just don’t want her getting married at Mansfield, that’s all.’

‘Why not?’ Gemma asked, still unconvinced. ‘If you don’t love her, why do you care if she gets married there?’

‘I can’t stand Rhys Gordon, that’s why. And the feeling’s mutual. But Mum’s got this bee up her arse to start having weddings and things at Mansfield to drum up a bit of cash.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t like it, but she’s right. It makes sense…financially speaking, anyway. But I still hate it.’

She sniffled and allowed him to draw her back in his arms ‘Your mum hates me,’ she said, her voice muffled against his chest. ‘I told you she wouldn’t like me.’

‘She’ll come around, don’t worry. In the meantime–’ he lifted her tear-streaked face and tenderly kissed the tip of her nose ‘–let’s leave this soggy crap behind and go shopping.’

Dominic and Gemma descended on Mansfield Hall late that afternoon with dozens of bags and assorted piles of brand-new luggage in tow.

‘We’ve been shopping,’ Gemma explained as Lady Mary descended the staircase. She hugged Dominic’s arm and smiled at him adoringly. ‘Dominic practically bought out the high street for me.’

‘Yes.’ Lady Mary glanced at the proliferation of bags in their hands with disapproval. ‘I can see that.’

‘The pipes burst at the hotel,’ Dominic informed her. ‘Ruined our stuff, and we’ve been thrown out until the problem’s fixed. You won’t mind,’ he added with a gleam of challenge in his eye, ‘if we pitch up here for a day or two, will you?’

‘No,’ his mum said stiffly. ‘We’ll sort out your rooms later. Leave your things here for now and join us for drinks in the drawing room.’ She produced a tight smile and went off to inform Mrs Sutton – and Charles, who would not be pleased – that there would be two extra for dinner. And possibly for breakfast, as well…

Lady Mary had no sooner disappeared through the baize door leading to the kitchen when Liam arrived, along with an attractive young woman, and a young man and a teenage girl, both wearing overalls.

Liam eyed Dominic. ‘I thought you’d gone back to London.’

‘Sorry, but I’m not going anywhere.’ Dominic met his brother’s glare. ‘We’re crashing here for a day or two. We’ve been put out of the Locksley Arms.’

‘And why’s that?’ Liam asked. ‘Acting the rock star, were you? Throwing TVs out the window, smashing up your room?’

‘The pipes burst,’ Gemma told him coolly. ‘Throwing TVs out of windows and smashing up rooms seems more your style.’

Liam’s scowl deepened, but he made no reply.

Dominic extended his hand to the young brunette woman standing uncertainly next to Liam and introduced himself.

‘Hullo, I’m Rupert Locksley, eldest brother and resident black sheep of the family. Thought I’d do the honours, since Liam seems to have forgotten his manners,’ Dominic added.

‘Julia Allchurch,’ Julia replied, charmed. She turned to the young man and woman. ‘This is Joss and Rory Devlin. They just sheared 200 sheep. And an amazing job they did, too.’

‘I’m sure,’ Gemma murmured, aware as she clasped Rory’s hand of the smell of woolly damp emanating from him. His eyes, dark with amusement, met hers, and she was sure he read her thoughts.

Joss pulled a burr out of her long blonde braid. ‘I’ll run up and change before dinner. I’m not fit company in these overalls. C’mon, Rory. You can change in my room.’

‘You both live here at Mansfield?’ Dominic asked, puzzled.

Rory shook his head. ‘Joss does. I live in Rose Cottage with my dad. I’m saving up for a farm of my own.’

‘Lady Mary took me in after our mum died,’ Joss explained. ‘Dad could barely cope with three boys, much less a six-year-old girl. So…I stayed here.’

‘It must’ve been after I left,’ Dominic said.

Joss nodded. ‘Your mother’s been very kind to me.’

Dominic’s mobile phone rang and he excused himself to take the call. ‘Yeah, Max, what is it?’ he asked his agent with a trace of impatience. ‘We’re just about to go in to dinner.’

‘Sorry,’ Max replied, ‘but it’s important. Bit of bad news, I’m afraid.’

Dominic frowned and stayed behind as the others drifted off to the drawing room. ‘What’s happened?’

‘You know your nice, lucrative contract with Maison Laroche, the one that keeps you in Maseratis and ’57 Strats?’

‘What about it?’

‘It’s over, Dominic. They’ve dropped the campaign for their men’s cologne, Dissolute. And they’ve dropped you, as well.’

Chapter 10

‘What?’ Dominic erupted. ‘You can’t mean it! Those ads bring in a shedload of cash, Max – not just for me, but for Maison Laroche! Why’ve they dropped the campaign?’

‘Well, there’s a couple of reasons,’ Max said carefully. ‘There’s a lot of negative publicity because of Klaus—’

‘Klaus,’ Dominic said contemptuously. ‘I can’t stand that snooty German arse—’

‘–so they’ve decided to pull the ads. They might, er…retool them, later.’

‘Oh.’ Mollified, Dominic noticed a stain on the coffered ceiling overhead. It was shaped exactly like Gemma’s bum. ‘So they’ll probably need me for some new ads, later on. Right?’

There was a lengthy pause. ‘Well, as to that—’

‘Are you coming, Dominic?’ Gemma asked as she returned to the foyer. ‘We’re going in to dinner now.’

‘Yeah, okay, babes.’ Dominic said goodbye to Max and rang off.

The dining room table, which seated thirty, easily accommodated nine that evening. Lord and Lady Locksley sat at either end, with their guests ranged along each side of the table. The tall, mullioned windows reflected sullen skies as they took their seats, and the wind quickened and whipped at the branches.

‘Looks like we’re in for a nasty storm,’ Rory observed. ‘Good thing we finished up the shearing.’

Charles frowned. ‘As to that, I think one of the ewes is taking ill. She didn’t eat much and seemed a bit listless.’

‘I’d suggest you call the vet tomorrow if she doesn’t improve,’ Rory suggested.

‘Well!’ Lady Mary interjected a shade too brightly. ‘Isn’t this lovely, Charles? We’ve got all our family here tonight.’

Lord Locksley glowered down the table at Dominic and muttered something unintelligible into his salade frisée.

‘It’s lovely to be here,’ Natalie offered, ‘and it’s really lovely to see Dominic and Gemma again. London’s such a big place, and we’re all so busy that we rarely see each other.’

‘I got the most fabulous pair of shoes today, Nat,’ Gemma told her. ‘Black satin pumps.’

‘Ooh – not Louboutins?’

Gemma snorted. ‘On my salary? You must be joking! No, but they’re still gorgeous. Come upstairs after dinner and I’ll show you.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘And I’d like to make a toast.’ Lady Mary raised her glass of Montrachet and smiled at Dominic. ‘To Rupert, for making us a family again… Welcome home, darling.’

Liam snorted. ‘Arsehole,’ he muttered, but only Dominic – seated across the table – heard him.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ Dominic ignored his brother and sipped his wine to a chorus of ‘hear, hears’. He nearly choked. The bottle must’ve come from deep in the recesses of the family wine cellar – the Montrachet tasted like vinegar chased with cobwebs. He’d had cooking sherry that tasted better than this swill.

‘Thanks for letting us stay here, Lady Mary,’ Gemma said as she set her glass aside and admired the Georgian chandelier and hand-painted wallpaper. ‘This is a fabulous old house.’

‘Thank you,’ Lady Mary replied. ‘Mansfield may not be Grade 1 listed, but it has an intriguing history nonetheless.’

Gemma leaned forward, fascinated. ‘Oh?’

‘Don’t encourage her,’ Liam warned. ‘She’ll go on all night about ghosts and Elizabethan courtiers and Lady Eleanora.’

‘Mansfield has ghosts?’ Gemma squealed in delight. ‘Right, you’ve got to tell us about them, Lady Mary.’

Natalie, seated next to Dominic, touched his arm. ‘D’you remember the time you lit the bonfire for Guy Fawkes, and it refused to catch? It kept going out.’

‘Wet wood tends to do that,’ Liam pointed out. ‘My twit of a brother doesn’t know how to lay a proper fire.’

‘I know how to lay a fire,’ Dominic retorted. ‘The wood was as dry as melba toast. Something – or someone – didn’t want that fire to stay lit.’

‘Who, then? Guy Fawkes?’ Liam scoffed.

‘No,’ Julia said, and leaned forward with an impish smile. ‘It was obviously the Bride in Black.’

‘The Bride in Black?’ Gemma echoed, her expression avid.

‘She’s our resident ghost,’ Lady Mary explained, enjoying their attention. ‘Lady Eleanora was engaged to a young Prussian officer, Captain von Graf. The two had never met; so when the wedding day neared, there was great excitement here at Mansfield as the bride and her family awaited the groom’s arrival.

‘The house was filled with flowers and the table was laid with a feast. But time passed, the fires sank down to embers, and the captain hadn’t arrived. Late that evening, a horseman galloped up and broke the news to the family that Captain von Graf and his party had been ambushed, attacked by robbers in a mountain pass. Von Graf was killed.’

‘How awful,’ Gemma murmured, stricken. ‘Poor Eleanora.’

‘What happened to her?’ Rory wondered.

‘She was terribly distraught, of course,’ Lady Mary replied, ‘and changed from her wedding dress into mourning clothes. She wore only mourning for the rest of her life.’

‘But why would Eleanora want to put out the bonfire?’ Gemma asked Julia, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I can answer that,’ Joss chimed in. ‘They say she stood watch every night at her window with a candle, waiting for her groom to return.’ She paused. ‘One evening, her sleeve caught the candle flame. Servants heard her screams and managed to douse the fire before it engulfed the bedroom, but it was too late. Eleanora died.’

Just then, a rumble of thunder ruptured the sky, followed by an ear-splitting crack of lightning, and as rain began to pelt against the windows, the lights flickered and went out.

Gemma let out a shriek and clutched Dominic’s arm, petrified.

Liam laughed. ‘Eleanora’s showing off tonight.’

Lord Locksley stood. ‘There’s no need to panic, Miss Astley, we lose power quite often.’ He fixed a cold eye on his younger son. ‘Come with me to fetch the candelabra, Liam, and stop trying to frighten our guests.’

Chastened, Liam rose and followed his father out. Ten minutes later they returned with a pair of candelabras and set one at either end of the table. Soon the warm glow of candlelight held the darkness at bay.

‘I’m afraid the drive is blocked by a tree,’ Lord Locksley informed them as he returned to his seat. ‘That last lightning strike must’ve taken it down.’

‘Shit,’ Dominic exclaimed, and made his way to one of the windows. ‘I hope my car isn’t smashed.’ Especially since he didn’t know when he might be able to afford another…

Liam joined his brother at the window. ‘Your car’s fine.’ He surveyed the giant oak blocking the drive. ‘But Dad’s right. No one’s going anywhere tonight.’

‘Not to worry,’ Lady Mary said briskly, ‘we’ve plenty of room to accommodate you all. Mrs Sutton will make up a few extra beds in the guest wing.’ She smiled expectantly at Charles. ‘This is rather fun, isn’t it?’

He grunted and poured himself another glass of wine.

Dominic couldn’t help but notice that his father hadn’t addressed a word to him. No surprise there, he supposed. He waited as Mrs Sutton trundled in with a large tureen – this one containing soup, he hoped, and not rainwater – and a basket of rolls.

Crikey, if you harnessed all the rampant sexual undercurrents racing round the table, they’d be strong enough to power the entire house. Liam couldn’t take his eyes off of Julia; Joss toyed with her food and mooned over Liam; and Rory, Dominic noted with irritation, was deep in conversation with Gemma about the spring lambing season.

‘Your hands are so soft!’ she was saying to Rory in awe. ‘Do you use a special hand cream?’

‘Nope,’ he said, and smiled. ‘It’s the lanolin from the wool. Keeps my skin soft as a baby’s.’

‘I keep telling him we ought to bottle it up,’ Joss joked. ‘We’d make a fortune on the high street.’

Natalie leaned forward. ‘Dominic,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Rhys and I are getting married soon, and I’d love to hold the wedding here at Mansfield. I know you told your mum no,’ she hastened to add as she saw a mulish look descend on his face, ‘but it’d be perfect. And it’d mean so much to me.’ She played her last, most important card. ‘And we’ll pay whatever you like.’

Dominic hated the thought of Nat marrying Gordon here at Mansfield Hall. He and Rhys despised each other, and had done from the first time they’d met.

But he had to be realistic. Losing the Dissolute contract, even temporarily, would cost him a lot of money. Playing host to weddings, film crews, pheasant shoots and rock festivals was exactly what Mansfield needed – a way to keep the estate in the family, and keep it in better nick for future generations.

He did a quick mental calculation. The fee for one wedding reception alone would cover the cost of a new boiler and replacement of the crumbling Robert Adam ceiling…

‘Okay,’ Dominic said, grudgingly. ‘If my parents agree, I don’t see why you and that twit Rhys can’t get married here.’

Lady Mary’s laser-like gaze settled on the two of them. ‘What’s that, darling?’

‘Nat wants to get married here at Mansfield. If it’s all right with you lot–’ he didn’t look at his father or Liam ‘–it’s all right with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ he said as he stood and tossed his napkin down, ‘I’m not hungry. Goodnight.’

And with a face like one of the thunderclouds outside the windows, Dominic left the dining room and disappeared into the blackness of the hallway.

Chapter 11

‘Dom, wait!’ Gemma, panicked at the thought of traversing those dark, shadowy halls to find her way alone up to their room, pushed her chair back. The story of Lady Eleanora and her bridegroom had unnerved her more than she’d realized.

But Dominic was gone.

‘Don’t worry,’ Rory reassured her, ‘I’ll be happy to take you upstairs.’ He laid his hand reassuringly atop hers.

Gemma sank back in her seat. ‘Thanks.’ Bloody Dominic. She glanced at Rory, who smiled back at her. Joss’ older brother was actually quite attractive, once you got past the sheep farmer thing…

‘I think I’ll call it a night as well.’ Natalie thanked Lady Mary and Charles once again for their hospitality and stood up. ‘It’s been a long day. Goodnight, everyone.’

The others rose as well, and as Charles and Lady Mary led the way with candelabras in hand, they made their way across the hall and up the stairs to their rooms, and bed.

The storm continued unabated until sometime after midnight. Dominic found sleep impossible. He didn’t know if it was the narrowness of his old twin bed, or the wind whistling round the corner, or the fact that Gemma was once again pissed off at him.

She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she preferred to sleep alone and that he could spend the night ‘dreaming of Natalie’. Then she’d walked down the hall with Rory, giggling at his jokes like a schoolgirl, until they turned the corner.

Dominic scowled. Gemma was probably sharing that sheep farmer’s bed, right this very minute. He threw back the covers and got up. There was no way he’d sleep now; he’d make his way back downstairs and find the kitchen.

He needed a big bowl of Cocoa Pops and a think.

Natalie couldn’t get warm. She’d forgotten how cold these old houses were at night, particularly when there was no power and not nearly enough blankets. She missed Rhys. She’d gotten used to the warm expanse of his back against hers at night, and she missed the smell of him in her pillows and blankets.

She looked forward to their wedding. Although she’d kept her flat, she spent most of her time at Rhys’s house on Endell Street, choosing curtains and rugs and fairy lights for the terrace. Rhys found her domesticity amusing.

It must be the result, Natalie decided as she threw back the covers, of those years spent with Dominic, living out of a tour bus and never having a place to really call her own.

She wanted to make Rhys’s house into a home…their home.

Natalie groped amongst the bedcovers for her robe and slipped it on. What she needed was a nice warm cup of cocoa and a good book. There were thousands of books in the library; surely somewhere amongst the treatises on history and dusty first editions she’d find a mystery novel, or a Jilly Cooper, or perhaps a book about Lady Eleanora Locksley…

No, scratch that, Natalie decided hastily. She wanted a dull, anodyne book to help her drift off to sleep, not one that would keep her up half the night, biting back a shriek every time a floorboard creaked or a branch tapped against her window.

But first, she decided as she took up the candle Lady Mary had left flickering by her bedside, she’d go downstairs to the kitchen and fix herself a lovely mug of hot cocoa.

Dominic took down the box of Cocoa Pops and rummaged until he found a mixing bowl, then dumped half the box of cereal in. After adding a generous splash of milk, most of which ended up on the counter, he settled himself at one end of the trestle table and began, morosely, to eat.

He didn’t hear Natalie come into the kitchen over the crunching of his cereal.

‘Dominic?’

He let out a startled yelp and flung his spoon and bowl aside. Milk and cereal exploded across the counter. ‘Nat?’ he exclaimed as he stood up, wild-eyed. ‘What the fuck

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