Page 8 of Hearts of Locke Hill

His brow rose.

“Very quiet, small thoughts. You shan’t even know we are here.” She tapped her chin. “Perhaps we shall squeeze all of us into Little Oakleigh and haunt you on occasion like Dickens’s ghosts.” She wiggled her fingers at him.

He leaned forward. “You scare me sometimes.”

She grinned, her eyes alight. “You’ve nothing to fear from this quarter.”

He smiled back. “Neither do you. We will befine. The timing is the trick. I agree that Patrick could use his own space. We’ve barely enough bedrooms with all the boys sharing and Oscar in the gatehouse. And no, I’m not counting myself and this closet. Henry is in the nursery for a week. I’m sure we can come up with a solution by the end of it.”

Mother looked down and pulled a folded letter from a pocket. “There may be … another solution.” She frowned at the letter in her grip. “This arrived this morning. I cannot decide if it is good news or ominous. But it is timely.”

“Ominous?” He looked at the thick paper and held out his hand. Unfolding the letter, he met neat, squared letters and a florid name at the letterhead. “Carlton? Your family?”

She nodded, her hands now clenched together.

Intrigued, he read the letter’s contents aloud.

“Mrs. Rose Emilia Carlton Burke. It has recently come to our attention that you have been bequeathed the property of Pimms Mill, Abinger, Dorking, with the passing of Sir Winston Alfred Carlton, your great-great uncle on your mother’s father’s side, your mother having been a favorite grand-niece and S. W. having no children of his own.”

“Great-great-uncle?” Cy murmured. “How old was the fellow?”

She put her hand to her head. “One-hundred andfour. But I’d no idea he was still alive.” Her hand dropped back to her lap. “He moved to the Continent years ago, before I was born. I met him only twice. Or perhaps three times. He never wrote to my mother, that I know of.” She sighed. “At least, I didn’t find any letters in her things. I feel awful. I just assumed he’d lived a life there and died a contented man.”

“Mmm. Perhaps we can learn more when we meet with the solicitors in London. What of Pimms Mill? Do you know it? Is it an actualmill?”

She shook her head. “I never visited. My mother spoke fondly of the man, but when I met him, it was at my father’s home in London, and I was so young. I remember him being very fine. Kind. He’d come from France.”

“Mmm.” He continued to read the letter to himself. “We are to meet at the solicitor’s offices tomorrow in Guildford.”

“Yes. Barely time to think.”

He folded the letter. “I imagine your presence is required, otherwise I’d take care of this for you. We’ll go together. I assume you’d like Ruby to come.” At her nod, he squeezed her hand. “I’ll leave Oscar to sit with Father. Does that suit you?”

“I suppose it will have to. Thank you, my dear boy. Perhaps, in some way, this will be the answer we are looking for.”

“Perhaps. Though, I must say, it doesn’t bode well that you hadn’t heard of Pimms until now, and the owner has been out of the country for decades. Perhaps it’s been let and looked after.” He considered the alternatives but did not give them voice. The last thing they needed was a neglected property steeped in debt. Anyhow, the mystery would be solved tomorrow, for better or worse. “Will you tell Father?”

She nodded. “When he wakes, I shall tell him everything. He will smile with the thought of you bunking in the nursery.”

Cy chuckled. “What kind of woman speaks of marrying off her children in the same breath in which she proposes ridding their home of a perfectly sound nursery?”

Mother grinned. “Excellent point, and I’m overjoyed you’re the one who made it. We need the nursery as is. Find that wife and give me grandchildren. At least five of them.”

He laughed wearily. “I hope you don’t expect all of them at once.”

Her eyes widened. “I would not ask that of any woman.” She stood and he did with her. “I interrupted your solitude,” she said. “You can get back to it if you like. Patrick is going to accompany me to the park.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Enjoy yourself.”

She placed her hand on his arm. “Do check in on your father.”

“Of course.”

Before she quit the room entirely, she turned. “Cyril?”

“Yes, Mother?”

“When I suggested you get back to your solitude, I didn’t actually mean it.”