The Art of Inheriting Secrets(64)

“That’s because practically nothing exists.” I carried the cup over to the board. “Seriously. I’ve looked in all the newspapers around here, looked for records of any kind, and there’s just nothing. It’s like he wasn’t even real.”

“How old was he when they came to England?”

“Maybe in his midteens, I think.”

“Where was his father?”

“Died of cholera in India, which is probably why Violet stayed. She was mistress of the plantation there. She was a good businesswoman. The earl said she turned the fortunes of Rosemere around, made it profitable.”

“All of them coming to England changed the course of my family’s life too.”

“Yeah. I’d like to see that plantation, honestly. It seemed to mean a lot to her.”

He nodded, touching one note on the board and another, frowning. “India, India, England, England. Is the secret with your grandmother or your mother?”

“I don’t know. There must be something with my grandmother, or my mother would never have fled.”

He frowned. “Maybe.”

“Have you ever been to India?”

“No. Seems a bit challenging, doesn’t it? People and chaos and heat.” He offered me a rueful half smile. “I’m an English country lad, I’m afraid.”

“I never thought about it until now,” I admitted, “although I have a lot of Indian friends in San Francisco. It seems like someone is always going back and forth. They have long visits, like three months at a time.”

“I might visit my mum there one of these days. She comes back here every summer, so it hasn’t come up yet.”

“Where does she live?”

“Mumbai. And she is a snob about it too. No other part of India is as good as Maharashtra.”

It was almost summer. “Is she coming this year?”

In a gesture he used quite often, he ran thumb and index finger down the goatee on either side of his mouth, down and around the bottom, smoothing the hair. “Usually she comes in June.”

“Hmm.”

He cocked his head. “Why does that make you nervous?”

“Um. How did you know I was nervous?”

“You twist a bit of your hair.”

I realized I was doing exactly that, twisting a lock of hair around and around my index finger, a habit I’d had since childhood. I dropped it. “I don’t know why I’d be nervous. I guess I’d want her to like me.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I like your family and you, and . . .” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gestured, palm up. “After you.”

As I passed, I punched him in the arm.

“Ow,” he said, but he laughed.

We didn’t need umbrellas, so we sloshed through the mud to the side of the house where the roof had collapsed to get a better view. “I guess I was hoping it wouldn’t be so daunting today,” I said. “It looks just as bad as yesterday.”

“That’s only because you’re not used to buildings in transition. The crew will get tarps over the holes in the roof, and that’s going to make it feel like it’s under construction, not falling down.”

“I hope so.” Rocks that had tumbled from the wall were scattered over the ground, and Samir knelt to run a hand over one of them. “Beautiful stone. The color is remarkable.”

“What makes it remarkable?” I asked, kneeling next to him.

“The rose and gold together. That’s why it looks as if it’s glowing when you see it from the village.” He brushed his hands together, stood. “Let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

We went in through the back door, as ever, but Samir had not been there since the work had started, and he made a long, low whistle as we entered. The kitchen was the same but much cleaner. The boxes had all been moved out to a storage facility at Jocasta’s order so that the historians and valuation specialists could take a look at everything. It was a giant room, made for serving a household of dozens. “Given this space, I’m giving very serious thought to the cooking-school idea. Plenty of room.”

He nodded. “Or industrial kitchens for a hotel or some other kind of school.”

“Hotel?”

“Why not?”

“But what’s here? Like, why would people come stay?”

“A lot of reasons. It’s quiet. You could create value any number of ways. Wedding parties, family gatherings. Any number of things.”

“Hmm. I hadn’t considered a hotel.” I touched the center of my chest, which didn’t seem to like the idea. “I’ll add it to the list.”

This time, I could lead, taking him through the butler’s pantry into the gutted dining room and parlor. I hadn’t been inside in a week or so, and in the meantime, the vines had been cut away from the windows. Even on such a dark day, light poured in through the long windows and offered a view of the forest on one side and the open fields on the other, with the town of Saint Ives Cross nestled into a tuck of the valley.

“It’s much less oppressive now, isn’t it?” Samir said, looking around.

“They filmed in here a couple of days ago and in the ballroom. I guess they’ll have to come back and show the mess.”