Rubies in the Roses

One part of her told her it was useless to think about curling her hair or putting on a necklace as she would never be ‘girlfriend material’ anyway. The other part told her it was time to put the past and that spiteful remark behind her. Max had said she was beautiful. He might mean it.

Oliver leaned against the door he had closed behind him when he came in. He didn’t seem to see that she had changed or think she looked nice. He was absorbed in his own train of thought about Max. His need to find something about him that could underpin his distrust of him.

Guinevere felt uncomfortable at relating what the photographer had told her. After all, it couldn’t have been easy for Max to admit that he needed more work and that he even worked for Wadencourt at half price. Oliver was blunt enough to let him know, sooner or later, that he knew about that, and Guinevere didn’t want Max to conclude she had betrayed his confidence. That way any chance for a friendship would be spoiled from the start.

She tried to sound casual. ‘Not much. I think he’s harmless.’

‘Harmless?’ Oliver repeated. ‘What an odd choice of words.’

‘I mean, he came here simply to shoot some pictures and have a good time.’

‘What does he know about Wadencourt’s plans?’

‘Nothing, I think. He seems to have a mysterious notebook that holds all the clues and that he never lets out of his sight. That makes sense. Wadencourt can’t afford to let this big find slip through his fingers.’

Guinevere straightened the dress’s thin belt and came to the door.

Dolly followed her with a short bark, as if she was excited to get down and socialize.

Oliver stopped her at the door and looked down at her. ‘Wadencourt needs a big find to cement his reputation and my father needs some big attraction for the castle to be able to draw in tourists without putting it in a trust. That could be a dangerous combination. Play a little Find The Goblet?’

Guinevere tried to read his expression, understand what it was about this scenario that worried him. ‘This is not the Middle Ages any more. You can’t pass off a random bone you found as a saint’s digit and cash the revenue for showing it to poor unsuspecting peasants. People know their stuff. If a find is claimed, it will be scrutinized. There will be tests done to see how old it really is. They can’t fake it. So what’s worrying you?’

Oliver tapped his fingers against each other. ‘The consequences when it is all real … Our last foray into the castle’s past and treasure connected with it ended in murder.’

Guinevere took a deep breath. Not just murder, but also a hunt for the killer that had played people against each other and left the island community divided. Had even left it scarred as the B&B was no longer tended by the same family as it had always been. New faces, new names. All because of a case that had started with a corrupt steward of this very castle. His alleged thefts, his trial, his secret stash that lured treasure hunters.

Did the elusive Lady Rose and her missing goblet have the same lethal potential?

Chapter Four (#u90d77593-56b9-56a1-a075-6612c40d74be)

In a tense silence Guinevere and Oliver went down to dinner as if they couldn’t shake the awareness that something potentially threatening had invaded their home and wouldn’t go away again. There was too much at stake for Wadencourt to simply let it go.

And Mr Vex, who had written up the article – how did he fit into the equation?

In the dining room Wadencourt was already sitting at the table, having changed into a dinner jacket. A leather-bound notebook lay on the table beside his plate and wine glass. He rose to his feet, came over and kissed Guinevere’s hand. ‘A little chivalry in this old place,’ he said. ‘You look lovely.’

Guinevere blinked at his sudden kind tone while he had earlier barely noticed her. Maybe he had figured he needed to change his tune if he wanted to achieve anything here?

Bolingbrooke came in, with Max right behind him. Max was saying, ‘You do see my point.’

They both halted as if they hadn’t expected anybody to be present in the dining room yet to overhear their conversation. Bolingbrooke smiled uncomfortably and rushed to say, ‘All here then. Let’s sit down to dinner.’

Cador appeared in the doorway. Instead of bringing in the first course he said in a solemn tone, ‘Lady Serena Wilkinson is here to see you, my lord.’

Bolingbrooke blinked at him. ‘Here? Now?’

Cador stepped aside, and a stately woman in her mid thirties marched in. She wore a blouse and riding trousers with riding boots. The only thing missing was a short whip to crack. She halted and pointed an elegant hand at Bolingbrooke. ‘The goblet belongs to my family. And I’ll ensure we get it back.’

Bolingbrooke groaned. ‘Not another one.’

Lady Serena looked around the room. ‘Another one? I can’t imagine there are any rightful claimants here.’

The emphasis on ‘rightful’ couldn’t be missed.

Lady Serena continued, ‘The goblet had been in our family for generations before it was stolen by Lady Rose and carried out to this place. It should have been returned to my family.’

‘You mean, after your family killed Lady Rose and her husband just because they didn’t like the fact that they had married?’ Oliver enquired cynically.

Lady Serena turned to him. ‘And you are?’

‘Oliver Bolingbrooke. With my older brother playing diplomat in Singapore, I’m cast as the next lord of this castle.’

Lady Serena didn’t flinch. ‘I see. My mother told me there was a younger son. She said he had made quite a scene when she was last here. Saying he’d drive her away from the island with his wooden sword.’

Oliver flushed to his neck.

Max chuckled. ‘How old were you then?’

Lady Serena flashed him a cold look. ‘And you are?’

‘Max DeBurgh, photographer.’ Max made a mock bow. ‘At your service, my lady.’

‘Ah, Wadencourt’s little minion.’

Now it was Max’s turn to flush and Oliver’s to grin at his discomfort.

Max shot him and Lady Serena a deadly look. ‘I’m nobody’s minion.’

Raising his voice, Wadencourt said, ‘I got here first. And my old friend Bolingbrooke assured me I can look for the goblet.’

Lady Serena scoffed. ‘Bolingbrooke is no more your friend than he is mine. And I’m not saying you can’t look for it. I’m merely asking that when the goblet is recovered it will be given to me.’

‘Of course,’ Wadencourt said, ‘you won’t go to any trouble for it, but then take home the grand prize. Aren’t they all the same when they happen to have the word lord or lady in front of their name?’ He leaned his hand on the leather-bound notebook on the table. ‘I worked for years to figure out the clues to the goblet’s whereabouts. Now I want the credit for it. It’s rightfully my discovery.’

‘Naturally I’ll credit you for the discovery,’ Lady Serena said with another wave of her delicate hand. ‘But the goblet is mine to take away and return to its rightful place in my family home.’

‘Never,’ Bolingbrooke objected. ‘If it’s found here, it belongs to my family.’ He looked Lady Serena up and down, from her impeccable hairdo to her shiny boots and straight back. ‘You can hardly prove you have any claim to it.’

‘There are some very old documents that describe the goblet. Once it’s found we can see if the description matches the actual cup.’

Oliver raised his hands. ‘Once it’s found? If it is found at all, you mean. So far Mr Wadencourt here hasn’t exactly been successful in proving his wild claims.’

‘This time it’s different,’ Wadencourt said tightly.

Max added, ‘Because this time somebody else figured out the clues.’

‘Will you shut up?’ Wadencourt was purple in the face. ‘I could send you away right now.’