Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(4)
She worried about him because he seemed so unapproachable, so cold and so very alone. He had no one and needed no one and Mrs. K couldn’t believe anyone, truly, lived like that, at least not happily. Even though Douglas Ashton never gave any indication he cared one whit about Mrs. Kilpatrick, she was the kind of woman who cared about just about everyone. She had a special place in her heart for the two children she watched grow up at Sommersgate, both of them, even Lord Douglas Ashton. It wasn’t his fault he was the way he was, indeed, he could have turned out very, very different. That was why Mrs. K loved him, was devoted to him and his house, even though he would never know how she felt.
Margaret Kilpatrick’s attention returned to Veronika. “Help me with the coffee, then you can meet Miss Julia and then you can see to the unpacking.”
As ever, Veronika did as she was told and they brought a tray to Julia with an exquisite silver coffeepot, a delicate china serving set and a plate of biscuits all sitting on a crisp, lily-white linen serviette.
Julia stood, a smile on her lips, when she saw Veronika.
“Veronika,” she started, again putting out her hand to shake the girl’s. The girl hesitantly allowed this but gave a small cry of surprise when Julia pulled her in for a swift kiss on the cheek. Julia thoughtfully ignored Veronika’s startled cry when she continued. “I hear you’ve been taking care of my nieces and nephew. Thank you.”
Veronika nodded and stepped back, this warm reception was not something she’d encountered before from anyone, not even Mrs. Kilpatrick. Veronika Raykin and Julia Fairfax had met only once and the circumstances at the time were most dire.
Julia smiled at her and Veronika looked at a loss of what to do next. “I unpack your case,” she announced finally and then fled the room.
“She’s a little shy,” Mrs. Kilpatrick explained.
Julia nodded, her face thoughtful as she watched Veronika go.
“Her timing wasn’t great, just coming to this gothic monstrosity when…” Julia stopped and looked at Ruby then she started again. “Tell me, how are things?”
Mrs. Kilpatrick knew exactly what Julia was asking.
For the past five months, Julia was at home in Indiana preparing to move to England and care for her brother’s children under the strict terms of he and his wife’s will. These terms were rigid and, to everyone’s surprise, included that the children be brought up in England, live at Sommersgate and be reared under the guardianship of Lord Douglas Ashton and Ms. Julia Fairfax. Unless Julia was willing to give up custody, which she obviously was not, this meant she had to quit her high-paid job, sell her home, disburse her belongings, say good-bye to her friends and family and move to a foreign country to live at Sommersgate for at least the next thirteen years.
Julia had done all of this without murmur, leaving the country four and a half months ago after the funerals and after the will was read, shattered from grief and jetlag, and spent the ensuing time readying herself for this change in life.
In that time, Douglas Ashton and his mother Monique had not changed their habits one iota. They’d left the care of three bereaved children, who also had left their home to move to Sommersgate, in the hands of Mrs. K, her husband, Roddy, Veronika, and Sommersgate’s chauffer and handyman, Carter.
Mrs. Kilpatrick didn’t mind. She openly adored Tamsin Ashton Fairfax, who shared not a single trait with her mother, father or brother, all proud and haughty. Fifteen years ago, Mrs. Kilpatrick had immediately fallen in love with the tall, athletic, fair, blue-eyed American boy from the Midwest, Gavin Fairfax, who was friendly and outgoing and who thought Tamsin resided on a pedestal (Mrs. K agreed). And in loving them both, Mrs. K loved their children and would do anything for them.
But she was not their family. Monique Ashton had not showed an interest in mothering her own two children and she showed even less of an interest in her grandchildren.
Douglas Ashton was worse. He worked long, inhuman hours, day and night, travelling from city to city, country to country, continent to continent. On those very rare occasions when he wasn’t working, he was playing and he played with the same intensity as he worked. An expert skier, an avid horseman and a collector of tall, young, frighteningly skinny blondes, brunettes and redheads, he was a man who was responsible to no one but himself. And even though, on a dark, wet road five months ago, that had changed, Douglas Ashton had not.
Mrs. Kilpatrick didn’t know why Douglas worked so hard. He was born to money, property and a title. He was immensely good-looking and was one of Europe’s top bachelors.
Roderick Kilpatrick, Mrs. K’s husband, reckoned it was power. Mr. Kilpatrick worked as groundskeeper for both Douglas and his father and he felt in the position to have a pretty reliable opinion on the subject (indeed, Roddy felt he was in the position to have a pretty reliable opinion on a lot of subjects).
Mrs. K would always cringe and more often than not quickly cross herself when thinking of the older Ashton because he surely existed in purgatory, or worse, for what he put his son through. She tried not to think about it, the scenes, the shouting, the ugly, hideous words. As a mere servant, she didn’t exist to the Baron, therefore, it didn’t matter what she’d heard and she’d heard a great deal.
How young Douglas had borne it, she couldn’t imagine but it was a testament to his strength of will. It wrecked Tamsin, who idolised her older brother. Those two were inseparable when they were young, clinging to each other in a home where controlled violence or absent neglect were the only constants.