Watch for Me by Twilight Read online

  About the Book

  Watch for Me by Twilight

  by Kirsty Ferry

  The past is never really the past at Hartsford Hall …

  Aidan Edwards has always been fascinated by the life of his great-great uncle Robert. A trip to Hartsford Hall and an encounter with Cassie Aldrich leads him closer to the truth about Robert Edwards, as he unravels the scandalous story of a bright young poet and a beautiful spirited aristocrat in the carefree twilight of the 1930s before the Second World War.

  But can Aidan find out what happened to Robert after the war – or will he have to accept that certain parts of his uncle’s life will remain forever shrouded in mystery?

  Hartsford Mysteries Series:

  Watch for Me by Moonlight

  Watch for Me by Twilight

  Watch for Me by Candlelight

  Perfect for all Choc Lit fans and fans of Diana Galbdon, Barbara Erskine and Kate Morton!

  Where heroes are like chocolate – irresistible!

  www.choc-lit.com

  Contents

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Champagne’

  Thank You

  About the Author

  More Choc Lit

  Introducing Choc Lit

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright information

  Preview of Watch for Me by Candlelight by Kirsty Ferry

  Chapter One

  February, Present Day

  A ‘Country House Party’ themed Living History weekend at Hartsford Hall had seemed like a marvellous idea – last summer, anyway, when Cassie Aldrich had suggested it to her sister-in-law, Elodie.

  ‘Do you really know what you’re doing?’ Cassie’s older brother Alex – Elodie’s husband and the current Earl of Hartsford – looked at her as if she had just crawled out from the primordial soup. ‘You’ve never really been hands on with those weekends, have you?’

  Cassie had the grace to feel ashamed because he was right. She’d always been lucky enough to just come in at the end and ensure she had a really nice dress on the day. But how hard could it be?

  She had found him at the stables, where he always went when he was worried about something, but the thing with Alex was you never really knew what he was worried about. She suspected Elodie, and the fact that she was currently pregnant with twins, was the main cause at the moment, but she would never go so far as to ask him. And anyway, the way Alex was frowning put her off engaging him in conversation for too long.

  ‘I know what I’m doing.’ She couldn’t quite meet her brother’s eyes. Instead, she made a big fuss of Hughie, Alex’s old, black carthorse. Hughie was the only one who had escaped when her father had to sell off the Hartsford race horses to clear some debts. At least he’d had the decency to keep Alex’s favourite.

  ‘This means a lot to Elodie. I don’t want it messed up. She’s got enough to deal with at the minute. Do you really think you’ve seen enough of what she does to have a go?’

  His eyes glinted a challenge at her and she quailed slightly. ‘Yes.’

  Cassie knew he didn’t believe her and determinedly avoided looking at him. Instead, she reached up and fondled the spot between Hughie’s eyes and he snorted appreciatively. ‘Well, at least I think I have. I’m fairly sure it will be easy enough to do. It’s just like writing a shopping list – simply making a few calls and doing a little bit of online shopping.’ She shrugged. ‘Anybody can do that. I don’t know what the fuss is about.’

  ‘You do realise the work that goes into these weekends, don’t you?’

  She nodded. She didn’t, actually, know what it all involved, but it simply couldn’t be that hard.

  ‘You sure?’ Alex fixed her with that steely glare again.

  ‘Yes.’ Her eyes slid away from him towards Hughie.

  Alex sidestepped and bowed slightly, waving his arm in a wide circle as if to indicate that she could go for it if she wished.

  ‘Cassie, Cassie, Cassie.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I wish you luck in your endeavours.’

  Cassie ignored him. She just needed to make a few lists, until Elodie bounced back to take it all off her again.

  At least, that was Cassie’s hope. She loved Hartsford Hall’s Living History weekends – loved getting dressed up and taking part in it all. Loved the pumpkins at Halloween, and the sleigh-rides at Christmas. The weekends had proved a great attraction to the tourists, but this year, Elodie’s sometimes precarious health had suffered with her pregnancy, and that was when Cassie had made her decision to help out. The decision that Alex was, today, almost mocking her for.

  Well, she wouldn’t let him win. She would prove that she could do it, and this year’s August Bank Holiday weekend would be absolutely splendid. To be truthful, Cassie wasn’t quite sure how much use she’d be, but she knew she had to try. She did feel a certain degree of responsibility anyway, seeing as how this had been her idea.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ Cassie told Elodie, as they sat in Alex’s office, her father’s old study, later that day. Cassie was still smarting a little over her brother’s comments. ‘I’ve told you. I’ll take over – just until you feel better.’

  ‘I’ll feel better in July. After the twins are here.’ Hormones kicked in at that point and there was a dangerous wobble to Elodie’s voice as she looked at the paperwork scattered in front of her. In the middle of it all was an asthma inhaler.

  Cassie quashed down a rising sense of panic and placed a mug of hot chocolate next to the inhaler. She added a biscuit for good measure.

  ‘Were my suggestions okay, though?’ She wrapped her hands around her own mug.

  Personally, she felt that her suggestions were rather inspired. She’d proposed that the tennis courts could be cleared and resurfaced, and the squash court block could be dusted down. The whole area dated from the 1920s and she had big ideas that she could put it all together again, just as it used to be.

  ‘It’ll be splendid,’ Cassie had promised. ‘I mean, we could have an exhibition of photographs and memorabilia inside the squash court – and we’ll put bunting up and serve Vintage Teas in a tent.’ It all sounded so lovely.

  Today, Elodie huddled over the hot chocolate and just stared at the information, shaking her head and looking terrified. Cassie didn’t know if it was the best time to ask whether she had the catering sorted, so helped herself to another biscuit instead.

  Elodie’s fingers closed over the inhaler and dragged it closer to her, which was never a good sign. ‘I was able to sort out much more complicated things when I lived in London. Why is this suddenly beyond me?’

  ‘Twins?’ Cassie didn’t really know.

  Elodie’s blue eyes were shadowed and her blonde hair lank; too many episodes of all-day sickness had taken it o
ut of her and she had obviously decided today was a day where all she could do was hide away in an oversized sweater and leggings. Cassie patted her hand. She knew Elodie was anxious for the warmer weather when she could at least go boho – all those soft, floaty lines would be perfect with Elodie’s pretty face and usual sense of style. She’d said only last week she wished she looked properly pregnant instead of simply fat. Cassie didn’t think it would be long, really, but Elodie had been in no mood to be coaxed out of it. ‘I just look so huge next to you. I kind of wish it was more – obvious!’ she’d complained.

  Cassie had to acknowledge that yes, she was quite a bit taller and yes, she was certainly much slimmer at the moment, but unlike Elodie’s, her dark brown hair had no curls in it whatsoever, and, according to Alex, her big brown eyes resembled a big, dopey spaniel’s. She studied Elodie, studying the paperwork.

  ‘I’m sure I could do it,’ she said tentatively.

  Elodie shook her head. ‘There’s more to it than you might think. Maybe I should just cancel this one.’ Her mouth turned down at the sides.

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t!’ Cassie was firm. In her head, she was already wearing her chosen costume. Her favourite part of these events was getting dressed up in suitable attire, be it travelling in a vintage car in an Edwardian tea gown, or waving from a horse-drawn carriage in a crinoline. She could channel any one of her fabulous ancestors. Many of them seemed to have demons of some description, or at least the odd skeleton in the closet, which made them all the more fascinating.

  ‘I don’t see any other way around it. Alex wouldn’t want me pushing it onto you—’

  ‘Stuff Alex. I’ll be fine.’

  And at that point, in February, Cassie truly believed it.

  Chapter Two

  Late February, Present Day

  The weather wasn’t the best for taking the motorbike out, but it hadn’t had a good run for what seemed like months. Aidan Edwards decided just to go for it. He needed to feel alive again after the winter, so he would follow the road and just see where it took him.

  It took him to a little village called Hartsford, and he stopped at a car park near the Folk Museum and walked up towards something he’d seen on his ride. And there it was – Hartsford Hall, an amazing old stately home. As he rounded the corner, he spotted the entrance, but the gates were locked today. Winter opening hours were in force, apparently, but he could see, at the end of what was originally a carriage drive, the Hall itself. It was a bit of a mish-mash of architecture. Amused, he scanned the walls and the turrets and the sash windows. Nothing really matched, but it looked like a great place. Friendly. The house had caught his attention and he had guessed the building styles would be varied. He was pleased to see he hadn’t been wrong.

  Just walking past the main door was a girl, perhaps in her early twenties. He thought it was a very odd time of year for her to be carrying a squash racquet, then he saw a man come around the corner to meet her. She ran towards the man and they disappeared behind the Hall.

  Aidan grinned and suspected they had their own indoor court – lots of these big old houses still had them – and he retraced his steps, deciding to continue along the road and into Hartsford itself. He was sure a village like this, with a Folk Museum and a stately home, must have at least one tea shop, and really, he could murder a cup of something hot. He flexed his fingers, stiff beneath his leather gloves and thought about the Hall. And he thought about his Great-Great-Uncle Robert – he would have known somewhere just like this place.

  Aidan looked up into the leaden sky and smiled as an aircraft flew through the clouds on its way to sunnier climes. Yes. Robert would have felt at home in a place like this, he imagined. Aidan had read some of his great-great-uncle’s musings on the subject of stately homes – perhaps not this one in particular, but definitely a similar house – and the descriptions of the kind of life enjoyed in such places were etched into his mind. It had sounded heavenly – luxurious, extravagant, a never-ending whirl of pleasurable activities.

  Robert had been brought up in Suffolk, not far from here. His father, the son of an Essex merchant, had been killed in an accident, and his mother, the only child of a wealthy Norfolk landowner, had died a few years later. Robert and his brother, Jack, had inherited the fortunes from each side, and had, by all accounts, enjoyed a fairly carefree life, mixing happily with all the local gentry. They appeared to have moved in exalted circles, despite their somewhat middle-class background.

  Or, at least they had, until World War Two came along and changed their lives forever.

  Aidan couldn’t even imagine how Robert must have felt when war broke out, presumably plunging him into a harsh reality he had no wish to embrace. How did one cope with something like that? Because the people living back then had had no choice but to deal with it. He shivered as he entered the coffee shop, suddenly very grateful to be surrounded by twenty-first century everyday life.

  His own problems were extremely trivial in comparison.

  Cassie thought about the Living History event for a couple of weeks, drawing colourful charts and making lists and daydreaming. She didn’t really want to bother Elodie with the little things she was noting about the weekend, so instead, she decided to mention it all to her friend Kate, who worked at the Hartsford Folk Museum.

  Kate had the audacity to laugh when Cassie told her exactly what she’d sorted out and what she had shelved to ask Elodie about.

  ‘Kate! You’re my best friend. How can you even laugh at me?’

  The girls were in The Green Dragon, Hartsford’s old coaching inn, enjoying a glass of wine and sharing a plate of chips between them.

  ‘I can laugh at you because you’re funny.’ Kate grinned and flicked her red hair over her shoulder. ‘I wonder if you put those two lists side by side, whether you’d have a bigger “done” list or a bigger “to-do” list.’

  Cassie scowled. Kate ran the Folk Museum like a well-oiled machine. Everything would have been sorted and triple-checked by now if Kate was in charge of the weekend. Lucky Kate in her museum – Cassie would have loved a job like that. She had studied history and museum curatorship at university, before moving onto business, but she knew her life was tied up at Hartsford Hall, at least for the foreseeable future. She didn’t think business was her bag, really, but she had swapped courses when her father died, with a view to helping Alex out. Her brother had been angry and bitter about coming back to sort out the old Earl’s ‘messes’ as he called them, and he’d needed Cassie’s help.

  ‘I’ve done loads. The catering is practically sorted. I’ve done the project chart and I’ve almost chosen what outfit to wear.’ Cassie was emphatic.

  ‘All very important. But have you acted on the project chart at all? Done a risk assessment?’ Kate shrugged and dipped the final chip in mayonnaise. ‘Not that I know much. I’m just thinking of what I’d do. And when you say the catering is practically sorted, is it ordered?’

  ‘Not exactly. I’ve just worked out what I think I’ll need.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘What do you mean, “oh”?’

  ‘I mean “oh, I think you’ve still got quite a bit of work to do”.’ Kate drained her glass of wine and shrugged her coat on. She grinned at Cassie. ‘Sorry I can’t stay for another. I’ve got to Skype with my brother. Shall I tell him you’re asking after him?’

  ‘You can do.’ It was Cassie’s turn to shrug. She’d had a very brief relationship with Tom a while ago. It hadn’t lasted long. Tom’s relationships never did, yet there was never any animosity between him and his numerous ex-girlfriends. It had been fun while it lasted, exactly what Cassie had needed, and they’d parted as friends. ‘Kate, do you think I’ve taken on too much?’

  ‘Only you can decide that. What I would suggest, though, is that you try to pull in some help.’

  ‘I can’t ask Elodie. She can barely make it through the day at the minute.’

  ‘No, not Elodie. But how about Margaret or Delilah? I’m su
re they’ll be sensible. I’m almost certain they’ll have been involved with the other events. And you can always ask me if you need anything museum-ish. I’ll see what I can rustle up for you if you think of anything.’

  ‘Thank you, lovely Kate.’ Cassie smiled weakly at her friend. ‘I shall take you up on that offer perhaps.’

  She really thought that she would. And Margaret – one of the estate volunteers – and Delilah, who owned Hartsford village’s only café, were always willing to help. Calling them in seemed like a very excellent idea.

  The two ladies looked surprised to see Cassie greet them with her iPad.

  ‘As you probably know, I’m trying to help Elodie out with the Living History weekend in August,’ Cassie told them. ‘Elodie will most likely deal with everything when she gets back to it all, but I’m standing in for now so I’m going to dash off a few emails and get the ball rolling. It all seems simple enough and I’ve still got ages yet, but I was hoping I could ask you two for some advice.’

  ‘Dash off some emails?’ Delilah looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes.’ Cassie brandished the iPad. ‘But I was hoping you would tell me what I needed to do. You know, what I need to do urgently and what’s not so urgent.’

  She wondered why they both looked at the table top and avoided her eyes.

  ‘What? What’s the problem?’

  ‘Uhm,’ said Margaret, ‘you do realise you only have six months or so to get this done now, don’t you? And you’re not very experienced at it. I think maybe it’s best if you shelve this one? We’ll all do a lovely one at Christmas instead. And you can help out with that one.’

  ‘Christmas?’ Cassie was stunned. ‘But that’s months away.’

  ‘Exactly,’ added Delilah. ‘There’s a lot of work to do, you know. It doesn’t just happen.’

  ‘But as you say, we’ve got six months to get it all sorted. I can’t see any reason why we need to shelve anything.’ Cassie flashed up a document on her iPad. ‘I’ve already made a start.’ She cast a glance over the words and read them out. ‘Bunting. Strawberries. Champagne – possibly.’ She looked up. ‘We have to be a little cautious with the champagne. Some people might not want to drink. Maybe we need to include non-alcoholic beverages.’ She typed some words into the document and nodded. ‘Okay. Ice-cream van – or even an ice-cream bicycle.’ She looked at the others again. ‘They started manufacturing those bikes in the twenties, but during the war they stopped making so much ice-cream and the military requisitioned the bikes. I think it’s quite appropriate. I’ll have a chat with Kate about that. Anyway … And extra scones. Extra cake. Possibly sandwiches in the Gypsy Tea Caravan. I know we don’t sell sandwiches out of it at the moment but it’s something we have to consider. Extra biscuits. Extra tea. Extra—’