Thinking of relationships, Abigail glanced over her computer at Oliver. It wasn’t something she’d mentioned to her family, but she’d heard the rumours amongst the staff at Somerville Hall that Oliver’s mother had had an affair and he wasn’t Lord Somerville’s son. She was also aware of the implications regarding who would inherit the Hall if that were true. Abigail hadn’t brought that up on Friday night. It was none of her business. She looked closely at Oliver. She couldn’t see the resemblance to Carys or to their father, and wondered if the rumours were true.
Not for the first time, she recalled the different relationship Hugh appeared to have with his son compared to his daughter. He appeared more affectionate towards his daughter, more easy-going, more receptive. Was it simply the case that she was his daughter, and that easy familiarity was because she was female, more chatty, and perhaps reminded him of his late wife, or was there something more to his standoffish behaviour towards Oliver? Did he believe the rumours regarding an affair and his late wife? Or did he know about it for a fact?
‘Is everything okay?’
Abigail looked at him wide-eyed. He’d caught her staring.
‘Sorry, my mind had wandered.’ She wouldn’t dare tell him just where her thoughts had taken her.
Oliver had been jotting something down on a notepad when he’d looked up and caught her staring in his direction. He put his pen down and threw her one of his rare smiles. ‘Thanks for coming in this late. You know, if you’ve changed your mind, I’d quite understand if you’d rather go home …’
It was Monday. They’d had a power cut late Sunday evening, and it had taken an engineer the best part of Monday to locate the issue to a faulty plug in one of the unused bedrooms. Carys had phoned Abigail to let her know there wasn’t any point coming into work, but Abigail had offered to come in once the issue was fixed. So there she was, very late in the afternoon – practically teatime. She knew she should have just taken the day off, but after finding out that she also owned the lighthouse and had a permanent tenant, she wasn’t that keen on hanging around the cottage. Besides, she had a feeling Joss would turn up again to apologise after the tour of the lighthouse when he’d as good as said she had feelings for Oliver and that she just wasn’t admitting she was afraid of losing her friendship with him if he found out she owned the cottage.
Abigail had been cross with Joss, but storming off to the cottage and slamming the door shut had, with hindsight, been childish behaviour, and she was embarrassed. She was avoiding him, but knew she needed to offer him an apology for biting his head off like that; it wasn’t his fault.
Abigail looked up at Oliver and shook her head at his suggestion that she could go. She wanted to stay and get on with her work. ‘I’m fine, honestly.’
Oliver looked at her for a long moment. ‘Are you?’
Taken aback by the question, Abigail was about to ask what he meant when he said, ‘Why don’t we start with a coffee?’ He got up from his seat. Abigail expected him to walk over to the coffee machine. He didn’t. He started for the door. ‘I thought we could pop down to the conservatory.’
‘The conservatory?’ Abigail looked at her watch, wondering why he’d want to do that. She swivelled around in her chair to face him. ‘I expect the catering staff will have gone home by now.’
He shrugged and turned for the door. She could have sworn she heard him say, ‘That’s what I’m counting on.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Come on, I’m sure we can figure out how to work their coffee machine.’
She looked at him curiously as she rose from her chair. She wondered what it was all about as she followed him out of the door. Her probation was up. She knew they wanted her to stay. Did they want a decision right now? But she was non-committal. She couldn’t stay, but she didn’t want to leave.
They walked along the corridor and down the grand staircase to the ground floor below, passing a set of glass double doors that led into a large unused room. Abigail thought the room would be an amazing space to hold a wedding reception. It made her wonder why they hadn’t thought of opening Somerville Hall as a wedding venue. Other stately homes had gone down different routes in order to bring in a much-needed additional income. She’d thought of asking but imagined Lord Somerville wouldn’t want that. She’d seen enough of their accounts over the last few weeks, though, to realise they needed an extra cash injection – or two – from somewhere.
They walked through the formal dining room that the family rarely used. Oliver held the glass door to the conservatory open for Abigail. She walked in. The place was virtually empty. Most of the staff who worked at the Hall had gone home for the day, so no one was on a break. There were some catering staff just collecting their bags and coats to leave. A young man spotted them.
‘Oh, Mr Somerville, we were just packing up and going home for the day.’
‘That’s not a problem. We have just come in here to have a meeting.’
Abigail looked at him, wondering what it was about.
‘Would you like us to make you anything?’
‘No, you go on home.’
He watched the young man and woman walk out before turning to Abigail. ‘Sorry, that sounded formal. It’s just, I didn’t expect anyone to still be here. I just fancied a change of scenery, and you know how these walls talk.’ He caught her expression. ‘The staff rumour mill. Next they’ll be saying …’ he trailed off, looking away, embarrassed.
Abigail knew what they were already saying. She and Oliver spent enough time in that office alone together.
‘Shall we sit out here? It’s a lovely evening.’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Abigail had never sat out in their gardens before, or on the little patio outside the conservatory.
He opened one of the glass doors and propped it open as she walked outside.
She chose a table next to some pots that Lili had asked the gardeners to plant up and took a seat. The patio was shielded from the main gardens on two sides by trellis and ivy that Lili had also asked the gardeners to plant in long containers.
‘I’ll be back in a moment. I’m just going to make some coffee.’
Abigail smiled at him, although she was still wondering what this was all about. She nervously twiddled a strand of her hair, wondering what she’d got to feel nervous about. It wasn’t as though she needed the job. She had her job in London waiting for her. This was just temporary, she reminded herself.