Newborn Under The Christmas Tree. Sophie Pembroke
the gardens beyond.
‘What do you think?’ Alice asked when he didn’t turn back. ‘Will it suit?’
‘Hmm?’ Liam turned back, apparently startled out of his own thoughts. ‘Oh, definitely. The space out there will be perfect for—’ He cut himself off. ‘You meant the rooms. Yeah, they’ll be fine. I don’t imagine I’ll be spending much time in them, anyway.’
Which begged the question—where was he planning on spending his time? And doing what? Because he sure as hell hadn’t been thinking about the bedroom when he’d been looking out of that window. He’d been making plans—plans he clearly had no intention of sharing with her.
And that made Alice very nervous indeed.
‘Ready to show me downstairs?’ Liam flashed her a smile, as if the last few moments hadn’t happened at all.
Alice narrowed her eyes. He was hiding something, that much was clear. But what? And how much harm could it do to everything Alice had built up at Thornwood?
She supposed there was only one way to find out.
She took a deep breath and stretched her face into a bright and happy smile. ‘Absolutely.’
* * *
Liam followed Alice back down endless, labyrinthine corridors, still thinking about the large expanse of forest he’d seen from Rose’s window. It would be perfect for an outdoor pursuits centre. He could see go-karting and paintball, maybe a ropes course. Plenty to keep the kids entertained while the parents took high tea up at the castle, or whatever it was people wanted from a stately home. Regardless, there was plenty of potential there.
Once he’d dealt with the castle’s current residents, of course.
After one last sharp turn in the corridor, they were suddenly spat out into a wide-open landing, leading to a grand double staircase, which joined halfway down to provide steps wider than he was tall. The dark wooden bannisters had been twined with glossy dark green leaves and bright red berries. Below stood an enormous Christmas tree, already strung with lights and glass baubles, the angel on top almost reaching the very top of the stairs. Liam couldn’t imagine how they’d even got it in through the doors.
‘Impressive tree,’ he said, nodding towards it.
Alice gave him a small, tight smile. ‘We like to celebrate life every way we can here. Now, after you?’ She gestured towards the stairs.
Liam frowned. The staircase was clearly wide enough for both of them to descend at the same time, yet Alice hung back in a way she hadn’t before. She was the one who knew her way around, so she’d led the way for most of the tour. What was different now? Was this some sort of prank?
He took the first step gingerly, relieved when it felt perfectly solid and ordinary under his foot.
Behind him, he heard Alice let out a long breath of relief, and knew that this was just another puzzle he’d need to figure out before he could leave Thornwood.
Safely at the bottom, Liam turned to admire the staircase. It would be a grand welcome for guests, a great way to make them feel they really had bought a piece of the English aristocracy experience. Then he blinked, and realised he wasn’t looking at the staircase at all.
He was watching Alice.
She skipped down the stairs easily enough, one hand bouncing along the bannister in between the greenery. The tension he’d heard in her voice when she asked him to go first was gone, and instead she looked...what? Guarded, maybe? As if there was something here she was trying to hide—something more than leaky ceilings and missing windows. Something other than just Thornwood.
Something about her.
He frowned as she reached the ground floor and glided across to straighten an ornament on the tree. Why, exactly, had Alice Walters come to Thornwood in the first place? He’d assumed she’d just been an eccentric hire of Rose’s, but now he was wondering. Obviously she had to be good at her job, and have great organisational skills, if she was keeping all the courses and sessions running that she claimed—even if her office was a bomb site. And Rose had never had any patience for slackers, so she must be a hard worker. Not to mention good at eliciting donations, to pay for everything.
Those sorts of skills could command a significant wage in the business world—far higher than he could imagine Rose paying her. So what kept her at Thornwood? Was it just the desire to do good—and, if it was, what had instilled that need in her?
Or, and this seemed like more of a possibility than he’d previously considered, was Alice one of the women who had needed the safe haven of Thornwood?
For some reason the idea filled him with horror—far more than the usual pity or anger he’d expect at a women being caught in such a situation. The idea of Alice—fired up, determined, intense Alice—being diminished by someone, a man, he assumed... That was unacceptable.
She turned to him, her bright smile firmly back in place and her honey-blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. Suddenly, she didn’t look like a victim to him any longer. She looked like a strong, capable woman—one he needed to negotiate with before he could move on with his plans.
He was here for business, not to save people. Besides, he’d never been any good at that, anyway. He hadn’t been able to save his mother, had he? And for every fight he’d got in the middle of, how many of the people he’d protected had just gone back and got beaten up again the next day? Probably most of them.
Better to focus on what he was good at—designing buildings and making them a success. That he knew how to do—even if Thornwood was a little different to his usual projects.
And Alice was a lot different to his usual challenges.
* * *
Relief settled over Alice as she saw that the river from that morning had been thoroughly mopped up and the main hall was looking its usual impressive self again, ready for its new owner. The Christmas tree appeared perfectly festive, as did the garlands on the banisters. And hopefully Liam hadn’t noticed anything odd about her behaviour by the stairs—although, given how observant he seemed about other things, she wouldn’t like to place a bet on it. Still, even if he had noticed, why would he care? He wasn’t likely to worry about it enough to ask questions and find out what her problem was.
People usually didn’t, in Alice’s experience. No one wanted the second-hand trauma and misery of another person when they were already dealing with their own.
‘Right, well, let’s start in the library,’ she said, forcing a bright smile. Hopefully someone might have even tidied up the knitting stuff by now, since a new session had been due to start ten minutes ago.
The library was one of Alice’s favourite spots in the whole castle. The walls were lined with books, as one might expect, but Alice had brought her own touches to the place since she’d arrived, with Rose’s blessing. While three walls still boasted shelves laden with dusty, oversized hardback tomes on subjects no one had experienced a need to research in decades, possibly centuries, the fourth wall had been transformed over the last year and a half. The dark wood shelves were now stuffed full of more modern books—self-help classics, career advice books, parenting and childcare publications, not to mention shelf after shelf of fiction. Alice had made sure to collect a good range, mostly from second-hand bookshops on her fundraising travels, so they had romance, detective stories, fantasy and sci-fi, thrillers, as well as a good selection of the classics and award-winners. Something for everybody, Alice liked to think.
Today, now that the knitting class had finished, there was a group huddled around the central tables discussing interview techniques. Alice and Liam hung back at the door rather than interrupt, and listened to the questions the women were posing.
‘But what do I say when they ask why I’ve been out of work for so long?’ one woman asked, leaning across the table.
Melanie, the careers adviser Alice had persuaded to come in and run the session for free, leaned back