Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall (23 page)

I decided against telling Mum that I'd found the empty bag in Patty's rubbish. I'd wait and see how Shawn got on with questioning Patty before sending my mother off the ledge.

“As long as we keep it quiet,” Mum went on. “I had visions of someone finding all that cash and turning it in to the police.”

“Oh,” I said weakly. “Would that be a problem?”

“Of course it would be a problem, Katherine!” Mum exclaimed. “The plastic bag alone would prompt all sorts of questions.”

“Surely not,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Aren't you overreacting?”

“No, I'm
not
overreacting,” said Mum. “I mentioned to Alfred that I needed to draw some money out and he told me I had to wait until he'd talked to his contact. I may as well be back living with your father. I hate asking for permission! It's my money!”

“Yes. Of course it is.”

“So. I met with her ladyship this morning and we gave Benedict some money,” Mum went on.

“I thought you were going to stall?” I said.

Mum waved her hand dismissively. “He's very optimistic. And I'll tell you something else, I was right about them having a little bit of hanky-panky.”

“I don't believe you.”

“I was outside in the barn looking for a paint roller to give to Alfred when they turned up together,” said Mum. “They didn't know I was in there. He grabbed her and said, ‘I know you still love me' and then she said something which was really infuriating because I couldn't catch it.”

“Didn't you ask her to repeat it?”

“Very funny.”

“I told you so,” said Mum. “Why else did Rupert go to London?”

Mum didn't wait for me to reply.

“I asked Lavinia what his lordship thought about our little campaign group and she said she had no idea,” my mother continued. “She hasn't spoken to him since Monday. I bet they're already separated and
that's
why Harry was sent off to boarding school.”

“Alfred is right when he says you have a vivid imagination.”

“Speaking of lovers,” said Mum. “Is your Valentine coming to the auction today?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “I haven't heard from him since I got that text.”

Fortunately the majestic entrance of Chillingford Court came into view and Mum dropped the subject.

“Would you look at that!” she exclaimed.

A huge banner announcing
AUCTION TODAY
stretched across the matching gatehouses. I felt instantly depressed. Here was the end of yet another beautiful country estate.

Viewing had taken place over the previous weekend. I'd already been twice but Mum had not and I was relieved to see her mood lift as she was taking in her surroundings.

The gravel drive wound through well-manicured borders with banks of rhododendrons, azaleas, and camellias—all dormant now because of the season, but I could imagine how magnificent they would look in bloom.

Parking had been set up in the field behind the stable block and cost ten pounds for admission that I thought was a bit steep. Attendants wearing fluorescent-orange vests and waving batons directed the steady stream of cars into a field that was already rutted with mud and puddles. The place would be a quagmire by the end of the three-day event.

“I've brought the wrong shoes,” said Mum with dismay.

“Don't worry. I put our Wellies in the boot this morning.”

“I'm sure when you were with
Fakes & Treasures
you had a special parking area and wouldn't be slumming with the peasants.”

“Yes. In the good old days.”

“Don't forget to take Jazzbo for luck.” Mum picked the toy Jerry mouse off my dashboard and dropped him into my tote bag.

The main auction was set up on the front lawn but to get there, we had to cut through the former stable block. People were milling around a variety of tractors and all manner of farmyard machinery that were displayed in the courtyard. There were five cars—one being a Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow—and a stunning barouche.

The nineteenth-century four-wheel carriage was in excellent condition with brasses and lamps burnished to perfection.

“I think I'm going to buy that for Lady Edith,” said Mum suddenly. “Do you think she'd like it?”

“I'm sure she would.”

“She can keep it in my carriageway.” Mum pulled a face. “Don't you feel like we're vultures feeding off the bones of another time? This is all so sad.”

“I know.”

“I don't want this to happen to Honeychurch.”

“Nor do I, Mum.”

The largest marquee housed the action where the main lots were going under the hammer. It was already filled to capacity with many people spilling out onto the grass. A jumbo screen ran a live video feed so those outside could watch the bidding inside.

Porters dressed in uniform bearing the name
LUXTONS EST.
1850 were transporting furniture, paintings, and carpets from the house on dollies and carrying the smaller items on foot into a covered holding area.

Five smaller tents acted as a payment office, shipping station, communal meeting area, VIP bar, and general refreshments.

I greeted a lot of familiar faces and introduced Mum who soon got caught up in the excitement of it all and kept telling anyone who would listen that the barouche was hers—as was the mink that had belonged to the Countess of Athlone. My friends Leigh and Rachel Gotch, toy specialists from a rival auction house, were there. Leigh was an authority on automatons and even though I knew deep down that Valentine would not be coming in person to bid on George—he could still make a phone bid—it was a shame he wouldn't get the chance to talk to a true expert.

“I thought the auction would be in the house,” Mum grumbled.

“Some of the bigger items are.” I told her that the fittings and fixtures, fireplaces, doors, and kitchen appliances would stay in situ but they would appear on the viewing screen.

“The porters may bring in a few pieces of wainscot paneling from the library,” I went on.

Mum was horrified. “You mean they are stripping the walls as well? That's cannibalism!”

It was true. It happened a lot. William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper magnate, was famously guilty of that crime and to this day there are still millions of pounds' worth of church roofs, exquisite paneling, and centuries-old fireplaces kept in storage in vast warehouses across the USA. Even now, despite rules and regulations having been introduced to protect much of our British heritage, those with enough money could still snap up an entire room that was built in Jacobean times for a cool twenty-five thousand pounds.

“There was a beautiful Tudor house called Agecroft Hall in Lancashire,” I said. “When the city of Manchester was developed, the whole house was bought by an American, dismantled, and shipped out to be reerected in Richmond, Virginia.”

“What are they going to do with this place?”

“It's going to be converted into flats. The west wing, which you can't really see from here, was partially destroyed in a fire and has already been demolished.”

Mum went quiet for a moment. “We can't let this happen to Honeychurch Hall, Kat,” she said again. “I can't. I won't!”

I took her hand and squeezed it but she stopped dead and gasped. “Oh! I don't believe it! Why am I not surprised?”

My heart turned right over. David was hurrying toward us with his big smile.

Mum scowled. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

 

Chapter Nineteen

“You're looking better than when we last met, Iris,” said David politely.

“Thank you.” Mum's voice was cold.

My stomach was filled with butterflies. I'd forgotten how handsome David was dressed in his smart Italian shoes, blazer, and pressed trousers. His hair seemed to have more streaks of gray and it suited him. Why do men get more attractive with age and women just sag?

David gave Mum a brilliant smile. “It must be a relief to have those pins out.”

“How would you know?”

“I can only guess.” He smiled again. “Although I did break my little finger once. It really hurt.”

“Good.”

I knew David was trying to be nice but he was wasting his breath. “Well, it's nice to see you—”

“Can I have a quick word?”

Mum opened her mouth to protest but I jumped in quickly, “Of course. Just for a minute.”

“Yes. Just for a
minute,”
Mum echoed. “But remember what I told you, Katherine.”

Mum walked three yards away and stood watching.

“Still the same old Iris.” David grinned. “I wondered if you had been getting my letters and messages?”

“Yes, thank you, and the flowers are lovely.” I knew my voice sounded stilted but I was determined not to let David get under my skin.

“I see you are still punishing me.” He sounded amused. “What's wrong?”

“I'm surprised to see you here, that's all.”

“Why? I knew
you'd
be here. It's not often a Steiff skittle set comes up for sale.” David smiled again. “I took a look. It's rare and in very good condition and they all have buttons in their ears.”

“I know. I've already viewed them.”

“The last set sold in 2011 and fetched eight thousand pounds,” David went on. “Your new business must be doing well.”

“How is your father-in-law?” I said, changing the subject. “That is
why
you are in Devon, isn't it? Visiting family?”

David's face fell. “Not exactly.” He looked over at Mum who continued to stare at us.

“Mother!” I called out. “Can you go and see what the lot number is in the main marquee?”

Mum rolled her eyes and hurried off.

“Thank God.” David took my arm and gently led me behind the refreshment tent. “I've missed you, Kat and I know you've missed me.”

“I don't—”

“Have dinner with me,” he said. “There's something I need to tell you.”

“Please don't do this, David.”

“Okay. I'll tell you anyway. Hugh passed away three weeks ago,” he said. “I've been helping clear the house, sort out family papers, deal with solicitors, and all that kind of thing.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You know how fond I was of Hugh,” said David. “He was more like a father to me, than my own. That's why—”

“How are the children taking it?” I said.

“Sam and Chloe seem okay but Trudy—”

“I don't want to talk about her, thank you.”

David unexpectedly took my hand. It came as rather a shock. He had never been one for public displays of affection.

“Don't you see? My divorce will be final any minute. I told you to be patient. I told you it was always about protecting Hugh. I just didn't want to cause him any more suffering when I knew he was dying.”

A couple walked by. David abruptly dropped my hand. I fought down a mixture of conflicting emotions. Hope. Love. Anger. Confusion.

“I don't know. I just don't know,” I said. “It's been—”

“Of course. You must think about it. I understand.” David reached out and stroked my face. I winced.

“You're bruised,” he whispered. “What happened? Did Iris beat you?”

“No,” I said, stifling a smile. “I fell off a horse.”

“You must be the most accident-prone person I know.” He leaned over and gently kissed my bruise—again, taking me by surprise. Was it possible to change, after all? I thought of Harry and his boarding school and how little boys are taught to toughen up.

“Did you cry when you first went to boarding school?” I asked.

“What?” David seemed thrown by the question. “Yes. Of course I did. We all did. I was only seven! Why?”

“Harry is struggling, too.”

“Who on earth is Harry?”

“Harry!” I said sharply. “You know, the little boy who is obsessed with Biggles. I told you all about him.”

David ran his hand through his hair. “I don't want to talk about Harry. I want to talk about you. I've done a lot of soul searching. I don't care about
Fakes & Treasures
. I'm happy about your new antiques shop. If you want to stay in Devon, we'll stay down here. If you want to go to London, we'll live there. My work takes me anywhere in the world. I'll do whatever you want, Kat. Just give me another chance.”

“I told you, I don't know.”

“I don't expect your mother to ever truly accept me but perhaps she'll come round eventually when she realizes I'm never going to tell a soul.”

For a moment I wasn't sure what David was talking about but then I remembered.

Of course! David knew everything about Krystalle Storm and that my mother had been adopted into a traveling boxing emporium as a child. At the time, it had never occurred to me that he and I would actually break up. I'd been so sure our future would be together.

David also knew about the fake robbery, masterminded by the old earl, Edith's husband, that had taken place two decades ago at Honeychurch Hall. Even though David did not have proof about the insurance scam, it wouldn't be difficult for him to find out.

In short, David knew too much.

I felt a surge of panic. “David, you wouldn't say anything, would you?”

He looked at me. “About what?”

“About my mother? About her books? The robbery? Vera and the grotto! Everything!”

David's expression hardened. “You think that little of me after all we've been through?”

“I just want you to give me your word.”

David looked around him and then, suddenly, took my arm and pulled me toward him. Before I could resist his lips were on mine and he kissed me hard. I found myself responding, stunned at David doing something so out of character.

I broke away first, slightly out of breath but incredibly confused. Good grief, had I been reading too much Krystalle Storm? Or more to the point, had he? This was the David I remembered when we first met, but not the David of these past few years.