Starlight Over Bluebell Castle. Sarah Bennett
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their first week as baby interns, both fresh from university and clueless about the real world, though, much to his chagrin.
‘Maybe I’ll drop in for a quick drink,’ he said, having zero intention of doing so. It wouldn’t be fair on Jess to appear out of the blue and steal any of her thunder. ‘Which of your rivals has been lucky enough to poach her?’ Their corporate world was a small one, and staff interchanged across the major firms with some regularity as they zig-zagged their way along career paths all headed in one direction. It was testament to both Charlie and Tim how few of their employees jumped ship for other opportunities. Someone must’ve made Jess one hell of a sweet offer.
‘That’s the absolute worst thing about the whole bloody business – she’s not moving to a new role, she’s quitting.’ Charlie shook his head then took another mouthful of wine.
His revelation stunned Tristan. ‘But why?’
The waiter chose that moment to return to the table, interrupting their conversation as they each selected something from the lighter lunch menu before throwing all their good intentions down the drain by adding a portion of chips to share.
‘Carbs will always be my downfall.’ As though to underline his point, Charlie reached for a piece of bread from the basket between them and began to slather it with butter. ‘What were we saying? Ah, yes, poor Jessica.’ As though intent on torturing Tristan, he took a large bite out of the bread and proceeded to chew it slowly.
Poor Jessica. What the hell did that mean? Tamping down his need to demand answers, Tristan conjured every possibility. Perhaps her husband was changing his job and they were moving away. She already had a couple of kids, was she pregnant again and had decided to take a career break? Neither of those seemed likely to elicit the sympathy he’d detected in Charlie’s tone. Was she ill? Oh God, what if one of the kids was ill? The piece of bread he’d taken was now many crumbs on his side plate, shredded into pieces as he pondered ever more outlandish scenarios.
‘Now, normally I wouldn’t say anything, but she’s been very open about things around the office, so I don’t feel I’d be betraying a confidence if I tell you that she and Steve are getting a divorce.’ Charlie shook his head, expression sad. ‘No one else involved,’ he continued, answering Tristan’s unspoken assumption. ‘Just one of those things, apparently, and they’re still very good friends. With him moving out and giving up his job to go back to university, she can’t afford the rent on her own so she’s moving back in with her parents until she can get things straight. They retired to Surrey, or Sussex, or perhaps it was Somerset. One of the esses.’ He dismissed them all with a wave of his hand, the look on his face saying they were all as bad as each other as far as Charlie was concerned. ‘But, enough about that, tell me what’s been going on with you.’
As they shared their meal, Tristan outlined the goings-on at Bluebell Castle, most significantly the discovery by Arthur’s now-wife, Lucie, of a long-lost painting which was going a long way to righting the family’s fortunes. ‘I saw something about that in the paper,’ Charlie said. ‘Hidden under the floorboards or something, wasn’t it?’
Tristan laughed. ‘Walled up in a hidden passageway, actually. There’s a heart-breaking story attached to its creation. One of our ancestors commissioned the piece to commemorate his engagement and his fiancée did a moonlight flit with the artist. I’ve been working with my sister-in-law on the copy for the information boards to support an exhibition in the castle about it. We’re hoping to add some of our other ancestors to it as time goes on, bit of a potted history of the Ludworths, you know the kind of thing?’
Charlie nodded. ‘You’re opening things up to the public then?’
‘Yes. My sister, Iggy, did an amazing job with restoring the grounds, and the summer fete was a huge success. We’d like to open a few parts of the castle as well to ensure we’ve got an all-seasons attraction. That’s where I come into the mix – I’m organising some top-end boutique holiday packages. A chance to experience a traditional Christmas in a real castle. I put a teaser up on the castle’s blog the other week just to see if there was any interest and I’ve had dozens of enquiries. I’d also like to do something with the grounds, create a Winter Wonderland experience.’
‘Hopefully it won’t end up like one of those disasters that seem to crop up on the news every year.’ Charlie observed, dryly.
‘Tell me about it,’ Tristan agreed, fervently. He’d come across some absolute horror stories during his research into it over the summer. ‘Thankfully, I’ve got my own crack team of garden designers on call in my sister and her other half, Will Talbot.’
Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that Will Talbot?’
Prior to meeting Iggy, Will had been something of a tabloid celebrity renowned for his wild ways. Happily settled, there was little about him now to hint at that bad boy image, other than a rather arresting scar on his face and a penchant for leather jackets and jeans.
Tristan grinned. It seemed like even someone as urbane and sophisticated as Charlie wasn’t immune to a little stardust. ‘The very same. They’re based here in town now for the most part which is one of the reasons I came to London. They’ve been working on design ideas, and we’re sitting down this afternoon to make a final decision.’
‘Cutting it fine, aren’t you? It’s September already.’ Charlie followed his comment with a chuckle. ‘But then that always was your style.’
‘Hey,’ Tristan protested, though he was laughing at the same time. ‘I met most of my deadlines.’ True, he’d pulled more than a few all-nighters to get the job done, but he’d always delivered when it mattered.
‘Well, I hope you’ve got someone who’ll keep you in line.’ When Tristan remained silent, Charlie gave him a speaking look. ‘I quite fancied the sound of your traditional Christmas in a castle. After the year we’ve had, Tim and I could do with a bit of luxury pampering, but maybe we’ll wait until next year …’
‘You don’t think I can pull it off.’ Tristan couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.
Leaning forward, Charlie patted the back of his hand in a purely paternal gesture. ‘I’m sure you can pull it off, but perhaps it’s time for you to do more than that. Christmas is a special time for a lot of people. Last-minute scrambles to get things done shouldn’t be a part of that.’ Sitting back, he finished the wine in his glass. ‘Look, Tristan, you know I adore you – both Tim and I would cut off our right arms if we thought for a moment we could lure you back into the fold – but you’ve never been one to sweat the small stuff. When you are part of a team, you’re unstoppable, and we gave you the structure you needed to succeed. But even you have to admit you’re not always on top of all the details.’
Tristan opened his mouth to argue then recalled the unread emails in his inbox. He was very good at focusing on the stuff that interested him, the rest of it … ‘So, what do you suggest?’
‘Get yourself a decent assistant, someone to compliment your enthusiasm with a dash of ruthless practicality.’ Charlie offered him a kindly smile. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m sure it will be a great success, but this is the first time you’ve struck out on your own and sometimes it takes a friend to point out our potential weaknesses.’
A friend. Yes, that’s what Charlie was, and a mentor too. ‘Thank you. And if you’re serious about you and Tim coming up for Christmas, I’ll be happy to do you a special deal.’
Charlie waved him off, but Tristan could see it had pleased him that Tristan was willing to not only listen to his advice, but take it in the spirit in which it was meant. ‘Nonsense. Mates rates are the death of far too many ventures. We’ll be happy to pay full price. Do we get a proper four-poster bed?’
‘We’ve still got a couple of old horsehair mattresses if you want that authentic experience. Or I could throw some rushes down in front of the fireplace in the great hall and you can bed down with the dogs for warmth.’ The image of Charlie, a walking Savile Row catalogue, being descended