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‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ He exchanged a look with Clara, who was biting her lip. ‘Why do you think it’s about him?’
Geoffrey stopped pen-rolling. ‘He came to see me last night. Late. I was in my bedroom, asleep actually, when he knocked on my door and said he had to speak to me urgently.’
River groaned because Bartie had beaten them to it. But what story had he spun? ‘What did he say that was so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning?’ he asked.
‘He told me he’d just discovered that Hannah had plans to build houses in the grounds of the manor and?—’
‘Just discovered?’ interrupted Clara.
Geoffrey gave her a cool stare. ‘That’s what he told me. He’d just discovered it and he had to tell me immediately so I’d be fully informed when making a decision on the house. He said his conscience wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.’
He ignored River’s quiet snort of derision and continued. ‘So I thanked him for letting me know and said I would think about how this information changed the situation. Anyway, that’s what he told me and that’s how things stand right now.’
River thought for a moment, feeling totally outflanked by his cousin.
‘But that’s not what happened,’ declared Clara.
‘I’m sure that it is,’ Geoffrey replied in a low voice.
‘No, it’s not because Bartie already?—’
She stopped speaking and frowned at River, who had just nudged his foot hard against hers. She was about to tell his father everything, but River had changed his mind.
The two of them could insist that Bartie had known all along and Clara could repeat what she’d heard his cousin and Hannah discussing the day before. But his father suddenly looked so done in, it would almost feel like putting the boot in. Bartie was family and Geoffrey had trusted him. What good would be achieved by telling an old man, mourning the imminent loss of his home, that he had been deceived? What good would come from making him face that realisation when he clearly preferred to think otherwise?
River shook his head slightly and, when he caught Clara’s eye, a look of understanding passed between them.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘If that’s how things currently stand, I expect that makes Hannah’s potential offer on the manor a no-go as far as you’re concerned.’
‘Yes indeed. I won’t be accepting any offers from that woman.’ Geoffrey stood up, walked to the window and gazed out at the moors rising behind the house. ‘But I woke early and have been considering my situation.’
He turned back from the window and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘There will be other offers from developers, but all of them will see the grounds of this house as prime building land. Of course they will. They’ll want to make as big a return on their outlay as possible. My father would have understood that from the outset and he wouldn’t be impressed that I’ve been deluding myself.’
He swallowed. ‘You don’t want this house, River, and I do understand why. It’s not financially viable, and you have another life far away. But I am too old and worn out to keep the house on for much longer and I’ve come to terms with the fact that there’s no way to save it or the grounds or, I’m afraid, your mother’s cottage, Clara.
‘Brellasham Manor will be turned into apartments and its grounds and gardens will be bulldozed to make way for housing. I’m afraid that’s practically inevitable. My father would say that’s simply the way that business works, while also hating me for being so inept at business that I have lost the family home.’
He raised a hand when River went to speak. ‘No, there’s nothing more to be said. I know you must be keen to return to Australia but I’d be grateful if you could organise visits from a few speculative developers before you fly away. Developers who are trustworthy and truthful.’
River nodded. ‘Of course, and I can stay to help with the visits.’
Geoffrey gave a weak smile before walking back to his desk and sinking into his chair. ‘Thank you but that won’t be necessary. And now I have a number of issues to deal with so I’d be grateful if you could leave me in peace to get on with them.’
When neither River nor Clara moved, he added briskly, ‘I’m sure you both have other places to be and I certainly have a great deal to do. Good morning.’ He picked up a letter lying on his desk and began to read it.
Without another word, Clara and River left the study and walked out of the house and into the gardens. The flowers seemed extra bright this morning, as though they knew what was coming and wanted to display their beauty while they could.
‘That didn’t go quite the way I’d imagined,’ said Clara, whose face had paled beneath her tan.
‘It’s shown us that Bartie is even more of a snake than we thought he was,’ said River, wiping a hand across his face. ‘He knew we’d tell my father so he got in first and put all the blame on Hannah.’
‘Or, as he put it, told the truth because his conscience wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise’ – Clara rolled her eyes – ‘and your dad believed him.’
‘He wanted to believe him. He’s known Bartie since he was born and thinks of him as…’ As the son he never had was on the tip of River’s tongue but he couldn’t say it. ‘He thinks of Bartie as an upstanding Brellasham, successful and loyal. And I didn’t have the heart to disabuse him of that. He looked done in already.’
‘Yeah, he did and you were right to stop me from telling him. Unfortunately, Bartie is very good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes and manipulating them.’
‘He’s an expert.’ River gave a sardonic laugh. ‘I’m really beginning to wish I had punched him last night.’
