Country Rivals. Zara Stoneley

was frowning. But it had seemed the sensible solution at the time. Now he wasn’t so sure. But at least he’d met Lady Stanthorpe. His mum would be impressed, although he’d have to skate over some of the facts. ‘It’s amazing, the way the light …’

      ‘It’s dark.’

      ‘Even in the moonlight it’s fantastic.’

      She didn’t look convinced. ‘And what are you filming? Some inaccurate historical nonsense? Why you people are too lazy to check your facts confounds me.’

      ‘Dunno exactly, but it’s not old-fashioned stuff. All they told me was that they wanted somewhere to shoot the polo bits. You know, that game they play on horses, with sticks.’

      ‘I do know what polo is, young man.’

      ‘They wanted a backdrop like this for it, you know, something posh, impressive.’

      ‘One doesn’t play polo in Cheshire in the winter, dear boy.’

      ‘One would,’ he grinned, ‘want to do a few shots now, and most of the shoot in the spring. Apparently there’s more to polo than just the beautiful game.’

      ‘Is there now? One would hardly call it beautiful, although some of the Argentinian players have a certain something about them. My late husband, Charles, used to play when he was abroad. He was rather dashing, I must admit, although all that racing about did take it out of him as he got older. Arthritis is a bugger and I rather feel that the poor ponies suffered as the poor old fool put weight on. So much nicer for them with some slim young man on board. So much nicer for all of us.’ She waved her empty glass again, and Jamie wondered if she was pouring it down Bertie, who was now snoring and whimpering, his feet dancing as he chased imaginary rabbits.

      ‘So, you say you will be filming outside?’

      ‘Outside only.’

      ‘And there would be substantial reimbursement?’ She tapped her stick on the floor and Bertie leaned more heavily against her. He guessed this was what Elizabeth looked like when under stress. Just a twitch. ‘Poor Charlotte does rather needs funds. Bloody insurance people aren’t paying out yet. I’ve always said one was better investing one’s money oneself elsewhere.’

      ‘It is all repairable, then?’

      ‘It is, for a price. But until then the business is at something of a stand-still. Brides-to-be are not interested in looking at scorched walls. No imagination, you youngsters, these days.’

      ‘Well, we would pay to film here.’

      ‘I’m not sure Tipping House, or the village of Tippermere for that matter, is ready for a film crew. You would no doubt ruin the lawns and litter the place with pop bottles, chip wrappers and people with loud-hailers.’ She stared gimlet-eyed down her long nose.

      ‘No doubt.’

      ‘And you would scare the horses. And you do realise that we can’t stop the pheasant shoot or the Boxing Day meet just to humour you?’

      ‘I do. But all that is finished by spring, isn’t it?’ A Boxing Day meet was surely on Boxing Day? ‘It could up your profile.’ She stared. ‘You know, keep you going while you’re waiting for the insurance money?’ The lines he’d been fed spilled out of him. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Be fun?’ He’d strayed from the script, but now he was pretty sure he had her hooked on that one. ‘Must be pretty quiet round here. Give me a call. I’ve got a card …’ He was reaching into his pocket as he spoke.

      She waved a regal hand, dismissing the idea. ‘I will do no such thing. You may call me after Christmas and I will decide whether I wish to pursue this matter further. The first Tuesday in the New Year will suit, at 3pm. But I’m not promising anything. I shall raise the matter with Charlotte when the time is right. Although, if I were you I’d keep this quiet, because if my son Dominic gets as much as a whiff of this kind of thing he’ll raise the drawbridge.’

      ‘You’ve got an actual drawbridge?’ Jamie was even more impressed.

      ‘A metaphorical one.’

      ‘Ahh. And Dominic has the final say?’

      ‘Certainly not. But he can be quite sniffy at times and he is rather strong-willed when he puts his mind to it.’

      ‘I wonder where he gets that from?’ He hadn’t thought he’d actually verbalised the words, but it appeared he had.

      The corner of her mouth twitched. ‘One has to know what one wants. But he is slightly too, what is the word? Conservative for my taste. He is a dressage rider.’

      She said it as though it explained everything, which to Jamie it didn’t. Knowing very little about horses and absolutely nothing about dressage riders.

      ‘Precise, controlled. The boy sorted all his books alphabetically and his cars into the most orderly of rows when he was a child.’ That didn’t help much either. ‘Re-stabled all the horses one day because they weren’t in any kind of size or colour orientation. The head groom was not amused.’

      ‘Ahh.’

      ‘He was very young though. He appears to have grown out of his most faddy tendencies. Too many fancy notions and picky habits aren’t good for a boy. Poncey. Not quite sure where he gets it from, his father was nothing like that. If anything upset him he’d go out and shoot.’

      ‘And so Dominic helps you run the place?’

      ‘Oh heavens above, have you not listened to a word I’ve said? Dominic is my son, but Charlotte, my granddaughter, runs the estate.’

      ‘Ah, so Charlotte is Dominic’s daughter.’

      ‘No.’ She shook her head, lips pursed. ‘Dominic is Charlotte’s uncle.’

      ‘Oh. But shouldn’t he …’

      ‘The Stanthorpes have never liked to stick to the normal order of things; we do things our own way. Tipping House is never passed to a male heir, it is inherited by the eldest female and sadly Charlotte’s mother, my daughter Alexandra, died in rather unfortunate circumstances. One day all this will be Charlotte’s. You really do need to do your homework, young man.’

      Jamie frowned. He’d thought taking a few pictures and selling the idea to Seb was all he needed to do. But it appeared not. The longer he was here though, the more he realised it wasn’t just that he needed this job; he actually wanted it. He wanted to peep into the life of Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe. To make her smile.

      ‘And so Charlotte is in charge?’

      ‘I rather think I am in charge.’ Her tone was dry, but there were the crinkle lines of laughter around her eyes again. ‘But she is responsible for running the estate and raising the necessary funds.’

      ‘She’s the one who set up the business here, as a wedding venue, isn’t she?’ Elizabeth nodded. ‘And one of the punters started the blaze, so she’s knackered.’

      ‘Knackered is a word I’d reserve for an altogether different usage, young man, but she is in rather a predicament. Most of the bookings were over the summer months, so very few had to be cancelled. But she should now be taking bookings for the spring after next, and how can she? These young girls look around and want everything to be perfect, and that is not going to be achievable for quite some time.’ She sniffed. ‘These insurance investigators are quite tiresome. And without the income one is very much back to square one.’

      ‘Even if you get it fixed up?’

      ‘A place like this costs a fortune to maintain and that is something that, sadly, we don’t have. That young fool of a bank manager is already starting to twitch, silly boy. But I’m sure things will sort themselves out, although I might well shoot the next person who arrives with a buy-out plan.’

      ‘Why not just sell the place?’

      ‘Sell?’ She raised