‘I thought you’d be in bed.’
‘I’ve only just got in.’
Sojo reached for the switch by the door and flooded the room with light. ‘Yes, I can see you have. What happened? Did Wudolf have a change of heart and decide not to go to the States after all?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘But something’s happened, I can see by your face. You look bewitched, bothered and bewildered. Let’s have a hot drink, and you can tell me all about it.’
‘Don’t you want to go to bed?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Do you?’
‘I doubt if I could sleep if I went,’ Charlotte admitted.
‘Then I suggest you get it off your chest.’
While they sat in front of the living-flame gas fire and sipped mugs of hot chocolate, Charlotte related the events of the day and evening, ending, ‘When we got back, Simon gave me a note from his grandfather. Though Sir Nigel is very seriously ill, apparently he wants to meet me.’
She found the note and handed it to Sojo, who read it avidly, before exclaiming, ‘What fun! Fancy being invited to the ancestral home, as well as being wined and dined by Sir Simon Farringdon.’
‘He doesn’t seem to use his title.’
‘Well, whether he calls himself Sir or not, he sounds really something.’
‘He’s certainly very attractive.’ Charlotte tried hard to appear underwhelmed.
Throughout her recital she had stuck to facts and left out her feelings, but Sojo wasn’t fooled for an instant. ‘You have the kind of dazed look that suggests you still don’t know quite what’s hit you. Tell me, how many times have you thought of Wudolf today? No, don’t bother to answer; I can see by your face. Well, all I can say is, the lord be praised.’
Then shrewdly, ‘Unless it’s out of the frying-pan into the fire. What do you know about our Simon?’
‘Apart from the fact that he’s Sir Nigel’s grandson, very little. And this proposed trip to Farringdon Hall—’
‘Proposed? You are going, aren’t you?’
‘I will if Margaret can manage.’
‘Of course she can manage,’ Sojo blithely insisted.
‘Well, if I do go, it’s just business.’
‘Business my foot!’ Sojo said inelegantly. ‘It’s my bet that young Simon suggested the visit.’
‘He’s not that young.’
‘So it wouldn’t be cradle-snatching?’
‘Of course not. He must be somewhere in the region of thirty.’
‘Perfect. All you have to do is smile at him and you’ll be home and dry.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘The Farringdon family are blue-blooded and wealthy; they live in a different world. I’d never fit in.’
‘Stuff and nonsense. With a face and figure like yours and the voice and manners of a lady, you’d fit into an aristocratic background as if you belonged. And speaking of aristocratic backgrounds, where exactly is Farringdon Hall?’
‘It’s about twenty miles from London, somewhere near Old Leasham.’
‘Know anything about it?’ Sojo asked.
‘When Simon Farringdon first got in touch with me, purely as a matter of interest I looked it up in Britain’s Heritage of Fine Historical Houses. It’s described as ‘‘A small, but delightful Elizabethan manor house, with thatched dovecotes and a charming walled garden…’’’
Reaching out a hand, Charlotte took a thick volume from the bookshelf and flicked through the pages. ‘Here, read it for yourself.’
The book balanced on one knee, Sojo read aloud,
‘Built on the site of a much older, fortified house, and surrounded by a large estate, Farringdon Hall has been the home of the Bell-Farringdon family for almost five hundred years. During her heyday, Queen Elizabeth I is rumoured to have made many private visits there. The interior of the house is noted for its splendid fireplaces, superb oak panelling and fine plasterwork, but the highlight is undoubtedly the Great Chamber with its magnificent barrel ceiling. There are three oak staircases rising from the panelled hall. The two rear ones lead up to the old nursery suite and the attics, which have remained unaltered since the house was built, while the main staircase leads to the family rooms, one of which is said to be haunted…
‘Fantastic! Sojo, who was into ghosts, gave an excited wriggle. ‘I must say I’m starting to envy you. A ghost and Simon Farringdon in the same house! What more could you possibly ask?’
When Charlotte finally got to bed, though she hadn’t expected to, she slept almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
In spite of having had such a late night, she awoke at her usual time and, pulling on her robe, went through to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and a rack of toast, before phoning Margaret.
Almost before she had finished explaining, Margaret said, ‘Of course I’ll take over for you.’
‘It’s bound to be busy,’ Charlotte pointed out. ‘Are you sure you can manage?’
‘My niece will be more than willing to lend a hand. She’s always liked books. The part-time job she had during the summer is finished, and as an out-of-work ex-student she can use a spot of pocket money.’
‘That’s great.’
‘So you just go and enjoy yourself.’
Instead of reiterating that it was just business, Charlotte said, ‘I’ll certainly try.’
Appearing in the kitchen in her pyjamas, her blonde hair in wild disarray, Sojo helped herself to coffee and toast before enquiring, ‘I take it that was Margaret. Can she manage?’
‘She’s going to get her niece to help.’
Spreading butter and marmalade with a liberal hand, Sojo observed with satisfaction, ‘So you’re all set. With a bit of luck you might even see the ghost.’
‘I’m not terribly sure I want to,’ Charlotte said.
Sojo sighed. ‘You have no sense of the dramatic. The scenario goes like this… You see the ghost and, scared stiff, you scream. Simon Farringdon comes running. You fall into his arms and… Well, I’ll leave the rest to you and propinquity.’
‘Thanks,’ Charlotte murmured drily.
‘Just one thing; once you get ensconced at Farringdon Hall I hope you’ll remember all my helpful advice and invite me down. Oh, and when he does get round to proposing, and a man of his class will—he’ll need children to inherit everything—I’ll be your bridesmaid.’
‘He may already have a wife and family,’ Charlotte pointed out.
‘You didn’t find out if he was married? What on earth were you doing with your time?’
‘I could hardly ask him,’ Charlotte objected.
‘Though surely he can’t be,’ Sojo thought aloud. ‘If he was, he wouldn’t have been rash enough to take another woman out dancing and dining.’
‘But this wasn’t a date,’ Charlotte emphasised. ‘It was simply a business dinner.’
‘Go away! You’ll be telling me next that you’re not quivering like a jelly at the mere thought of seeing him again… Now I must dash… When you get back I shall expect a blow-by-blow account of all that’s happened…