‘Are you telling me that the sale of Arthur Morston Books – not to mention my soul – is going to solve their crisis? Goodness, Star, I expected more of you than this. I thought you were on my side.’
‘I am, Orlando, truly. But sometimes life just doesn’t work out like you want it to. It’s horrible, but true. Life just isn’t fair. And from what I gather, it’s the farm as well that is suffering.’
‘What?!’ Orlando’s pale complexion turned from pink to red to purple. ‘Is that what he told you?’
‘Yes. He needs to buy new machinery to give the farm a chance of earning its keep.’
I wondered then if Orlando would actually explode with rage. His sweet features were contorted into such anger and derision it was hard to think how a physical body could control that amount of emotion.
‘HA! Ha ha ha! And did he perchance tell you why the farm has fallen on hard times?’
‘No.’
‘So he didn’t mention the fact that he rarely came out of his bedroom for the first three years after Annie died? That he let the entire acreage go to rack and ruin because he was unable to get up, drag himself downstairs and speak to the farm manager, who waited for him so many days and weeks with the unpaid bills? Until all the suppliers refused to provide the basics of what any farm needs, and the manager had no choice but to resign? Animals died under my brother’s watch, Miss Star, through malnutrition and negligence. Not to mention the crops that were left to fester for years until even they could no longer find the will to live . . . Let me tell you now, this situation is almost completely of my brother’s making. Not mine.’
‘Surely,’ I said eventually, for once venturing into the silence as Orlando topped up his wine glass, ‘you understand why?’
‘Of course I do. He had lost the love of his life. I am not unsympathetic to such a plight. But’ – his face darkened once more – ‘there are things that you don’t know, and I am not at liberty to tell you, that are – in my book at least – unforgivable. There comes a point in every human being’s life when one must forget one’s own tragedy and step up to the mark for those who need you. My brother wallowed in self-pity for years and that’s the truth. We all did our best to show him love and support, but even the softest and most understanding of hearts can harden when one watches a person intent on destroying himself.’
Orlando stood up then, hands shrouded in his robe pockets, and began to pace.
‘I can assure you, Miss Star, that his family supported him in every way possible. As you well know, people choose to become a victim or a hero. He chose the first option. And now, because of that, I . . . and this’ – he indicated the room again as dust motes floated like tiny angels around him in the weak October sunlight – ‘are the sacrificial lambs.’
With that, he sank to the floor and wept.
‘God, what a mess . . .’ I heard him mutter to himself in a high voice. ‘We are all a mess. Every single one of us.’
Kneeling down beside him, I tentatively put my arms around his shoulders. He resisted at first, then nestled into my embrace, and I rocked him like I would a small child.
‘You don’t understand what this means to me. You don’t understand . . .’
‘Orlando, I do. And if I was able to, I’d let you stay here forever. I promise.’
‘You’re a good person, Star. You’re on my side, aren’t you?’
His agonised eyes looked up at me.
‘Of course I am. And when you are calmer, perhaps I can tell you of some ideas I’ve had.’
‘Really? I’ll do anything, anything . . .’
Of course, I had some ideas, but they were rational ones that took the circumstances into consideration, and I doubted they would appeal to Orlando.
‘Well, I’m all ears.’ He pulled away from me and scrambled to standing, looking as if I was about to offer him the golden fleece. ‘How about I go upstairs and ablute? I’m currently déshabillé and I revolt even myself,’ he admitted, looking down at his state of dress. He went towards the plates, but I shook my head.
‘Today is unusual and I will clear up.’
‘So be it.’ He walked towards the back door, then turned in afterthought. ‘Thank you for everything, Miss Star. I knew you’d be the one person I could rely on. And when I come back down, I’ll tell you a secret too.’
Then he stood there and giggled just as Rory did.
‘What?’ I couldn’t help but ask.
‘I know where they are.’ Orlando grinned, then turned and disappeared through the door.
I waited until I heard him reach the top of the stairs, then went to clear away the remnants of our lunch and followed him up, feeling that another bridge had been crossed by the fact he’d allowed me into his private enclave. As I washed up the plates in the tiny sink, I mulled over his parting words. I almost certainly knew what Orlando was talking about – it could only be Flora MacNichol’s journals. I felt torn in two by the warring brothers.
Back downstairs, I turned the Closed sign to Open, as it was well past two o’clock, then stood in the centre of the room, studying the bookcases. For I knew I’d seen a set of books – covered in brown silk – as I’d taken another off the shelf next to them. I also knew Orlando and his playful mind. Where better to camouflage what he’d taken from Home Farm than in a place that contained thousands of the same?
My eyes scanned the shelves, and then I closed them, trying to place the exact book I’d pulled off the shelf and the location of it . . .
And there it was. As clear as a virtual file pulled from my memory bank.
‘Orlando,’ I muttered, walking towards the English section and casting my eyes to three rows from the bottom. There they were on the shelf marked ‘British Fiction, 1900–1950’.
Bending down, I pulled out a slim volume, opening it at the first page.
The Journal of Flora MacNichol
1910
I snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf as I heard heavy footfall on the stairs. Orlando was taking the steps faster than usual, and I was only just by the fire, stoking it, before he slammed into the room.
‘Feel better now?’ I asked him calmly as I added some more coal.
There was a pause that went on for so long I had to turn and see why. His face was purple again, and his arms were crossed as he advanced towards me.
‘I’ll beg you not to patronise me further. Given that you had calmed me, I just took a call from my brother. He stated that you have agreed to take a job as a housekeeper-cum-nanny at High Weald.’
‘I—’
‘Don’t lie to me, Star! Did you or did you not agree to the proposition that was put to you?’
‘Marguerite was desperate because she has an ongoing commission and so I said that I would—’
‘Abandon me and turn your coat to work with the enemy?!’