Christmas at a Highland Castle

Chapter 18

A while later Sebastian was pacing the picture gallery, waiting until Olivia returned from the shoot. He wanted to head her off before she could disappear upstairs to prepare for the party.

‘Are you going to apologise?’ he said, his words tight and tense as he watched her approach. The anger had been building since he’d made sure Jess was happy to be left alone, and he’d set about ringing round, telling everyone the party was cancelled.

‘Apologise for what?’ Olivia countered, frowning at him.

‘For nearly getting Jess killed. How about that for starters.’

His sister had the audacity to roll her eyes. ‘She shouldn’t even have been there. How is that my fault?’

‘She’s in shock, Olivia. She should probably go to the hospital.’

Olivia laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You always did overreact to everything. And anyway, she can’t – she’s got the party to prepare for.’

Sebastian shook his head. ‘No, she hasn’t. I’ve called it off, let everyone know. It’s the last thing she needs.’

Olivia’s expression darkened. ‘You’ve done what?’

‘I never wanted a party in the first place. It’s the last thing Mother needs right now too. In fact, you’re the only one who wanted it.’

‘And Candida.’

‘Which reminds me – it was your girlfriend who let Jess’s dog out in the first place, so if you want to blame anyone, perhaps you need to look closer to home. Now, are you going to apologise or not?’

‘Not. Because none of it was my fault.’

‘God, you’re so bloody stubborn,’ Sebastian said.

‘And you’re a selfish prick. You sod off for a decade, then swan back in to claim your prize, while those of us who stayed here get bugger all.’

‘There’s bugger all to claim, Olivia – that’s what you need to understand. There’s enough debt on this place to drown us all. You’re lucky you can walk away.’

‘But I don’t want to. That’s the difference between us. I’d never sell this place, and I can’t imagine why you would make such a terrible threat.’ Olivia shook her head, her expression altering. She seemed conflicted, then sucked in a breath and squared up to him. ‘I’m not going to let you destroy everything.’

‘Nobody intends to destroy anything,’ he said, his tone softening as he saw their mother approaching. Their raised voices were probably reverberating through the entire house.

Olivia didn’t notice her mother; her focus on Sebastian was too intense, her voice still loud and aggressive. ‘You’ve been back a matter of a few weeks, and you’ve already decided it’s all too much for your delicate soul, so you’re just going to jack it all in and sell? I’ve never heard anything so outrageous in my life.’

Finally, Olivia noticed their mother, momentary confusion crossing her expression before her tone softened. ‘He’s behaving like a selfish wanker, Mummy, and I won’t have it.’

‘All I did was tell her the party is off,’ Sebastian said, more quietly.

‘Thank the Lord for that,’ Dee said. ‘A party was the last thing I wanted to have to face, Liv. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.’

Olivia huffed, her eyes narrowing as she glared at both of them. Sebastian knew the look well: the expression his sister adopted when she felt cornered, or ganged up on. Something was coming, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

‘Daddy always said he thought you were someone else’s.’ Olivia’s words hung in the air as she stared at Sebastian.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Dee said. ‘Olivia, what are you saying?’

‘I’m sorry, Mummy, I didn’t mean for you to hear it like this, but Daddy said he knew. He confided in me, you know? He trusted me more than anyone else. Told me there was no way Sebastian could be a proper Barclay-Brown, that he’d always had his suspicions …’

Of all the things Sebastian had been expecting to march forth from Olivia’s lips, an accusation of that nature hadn’t featured. He almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous nature of suggesting their mother had had an affair – although Sebastian wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. He glanced at her, momentary confusion clouding his thoughts. Had she? His doubt lasted no more than a millisecond, especially when he took in the look of disbelief on his mother’s face.

‘Olivia, shut up for heaven’s sake, you’re being ridiculous.’ Sebastian wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. ‘Have a thought for what you’re saying, would you?’

‘It’s not your fault, Mummy – I know Daddy was unkind to you, I don’t blame you at all. But the point is that if Sebastian isn’t a real Barclay-Brown then I can challenge his legal right to the estate and that means he won’t be able to sell it. I want to do a paternity test. All I need are some hair samples.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Sebastian said.

‘If only our legal system wasn’t lagging behind the rest of the world by a good few hundred years, I’d have inherited everything anyway. I am the oldest child, after all. Primogeniture should mean exactly that. It’s not like I’ll be needed to fight in a war for the monarch, is it? Or that I’m even likely to die in childbirth, for that matter. Not these days. So, the idea that it must be a male who inherits is an outmoded institution. These days gender shouldn’t matter. And if I’d inherited, there’s no fucking way I’d be selling up and scuttling away like a cowed dog.’

‘I only said it was an option,’ Sebastian countered.

‘You said you were now the Earl of Kirkshield and you could do whatever you liked. Sounded pretty definitive to me.’ Olivia crossed her arms, her defiant stance reminding Sebastian of their father’s unyielding nature, especially once his blood was up. How similar Olivia was, in that respect.

‘So, what do you intend to do?’ Sebastian asked Olivia, his arm still wrapped defensively around his mother.

‘What do you intend to do?’ Olivia countered, her eyes ablaze.

‘Tell you what I’m going to do right now,’ Sebastian said, easing away from his mother and reaching up to his own scalp. Taking firm hold of some strands, he tugged them free and held them out. ‘Here. Take these. Do all the testing you like.’

Olivia took the hair, lips curling in an angry smile as she stalked from the room. He turned to his mother, shaking his head as he wrapped her up again in his arms.

Jess had done her best to rest, as Sebastian had suggested, but she couldn’t settle. Although she was relieved he’d called off the party and told her to take the rest of the day off, the sound of those shotguns was all Jess could hear. She was worried that if she fell asleep, she might dream of them, too – and a dream could easily manifest into a nightmare. She could imagine the scenarios. Digby being shot, his tiny body flipping and contorting in pain. A stray round finding its way into her leg, or her stomach. Watching her own blood leaking from her body. She shuddered – the little bit which had come from her cut hand had been bad enough. Maybe the nightmare would see Sebastian shot as he ran towards her. She would watch him fall, inch by inch, in slow motion until he hit the ground. All his warmth leaching away forever.

She shook her head to try to dispel the image, deciding to make herself a hot chocolate. Try to take her mind off it. But before the milk reached temperature, she could hear shouting coming from the vicinity of the picture gallery. Shoving the pan onto the warming plate, she crept along the passage until she could hear more clearly. Although once she could hear what was being said, she wished she hadn’t been party to it. Creeping back to the kitchen, she put the pan back on the heat as she tried to assimilate what she’d heard. Olivia thought Sebastian was illegitimate and, if he was, she’d take the estate from him. And there was Jess thinking her lack of family, except for Vivi, was a disadvantage.

For the second time in five minutes Jess was sliding the pan off the heat when a knock on the back door took her attention. She swung the door wide to find Robbie on the step, a biscuit tin in his hand and a worried expression clouding his features.

‘Can I come in?’ he asked.

She stood back to allow him in, closing the door behind him.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, sliding the tin onto the table. ‘I brought shortbread. I wanted to bring something which makes a better apology present, but the shop was already closed. How’s wee Digby?’

She glanced at the little dog, curled up on his mat, one eye open and watchful.

‘Still a bit unsettled. We both are,’ she added.

‘I don’t doubt it.’ Robbie shook his head. ‘Olivia and I both shouted at that man to leave the low bird, but sometimes people get carried away. It doesn’t excuse what happened, but it’s the truth.’

‘I know I shouldn’t have been there, but I couldn’t just leave Digby, could I?’

She was crying again – it wasn’t that she wanted his attention, or his pity, but even though she tried to make them stop, the tears kept on coming.

‘Och, don’t cry,’ he said, crossing the space between them and wrapping her up in a hug. ‘You’re all right now. Everything’s all right.’

Sebastian would have held his mother in his arms for however long it took to repair Olivia’s words, but she pulled away, smiling. Composed. She always had been capable of maintaining the most incredibly calm and outwardly contented demeanour of anyone he’d ever known. She had learnt over the years how to hide her true emotions, he supposed. He frowned, staring at the diminutive frame of one of the strongest people he’d ever known.

Strong, perhaps. Happy, though? Sebastian wasn’t sure anyone in the castle was happy, not really. It was as though the place had a way of dragging everyone down, loading them with unrealistic demands. Maybe Olivia was right – perhaps he was a selfish prick – but he wasn’t sure staying here, doing battle with the almighty mess his father had left for him, was something he could countenance. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to try.

‘I would like to check on Jess,’ his mother was saying. ‘I can’t imagine how frightened she must have felt.’

‘Let’s go and find her,’ he said, and they headed for the kitchen. But when they got there, they were met by Jess and Robbie in a tight embrace, oblivious to their arrival. Not kissing, just tight against one another. Even the little dog, usually sharp and observant to arrivals into his territory, remained silent and still. It was almost as though the scene was a tableau, that they were staring at a painting.

Then Sebastian was aware of his mother making a small sound – almost like a sob – and she turned and left as silently as she’d arrived. Seeing the housekeeper embracing someone so tightly must have upset her, must have reminded her of Elsa and his father. He let her go, cursing himself for failing to protect his mother yet again. He took one more surreptitious look at Jess, at the way she fitted so snugly against Robbie’s tall frame and found himself backing up, also desperate to get away from the scene.

His head was in a spin as he headed for the library, one thought overriding all the rest. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t cope with being here. It was time to make the phone call to Edward Ellingham, to set the ball rolling and find out if they would be interested in buying the estate.

Sebastian wasn’t prepared to wait for Olivia’s DNA test results. After the argument, he’d felt a carousel of emotions, one of which had surprised him. For a while, he had almost hoped Olivia would get the result she wanted: almost hoped he wasn’t related to his father. Then he really could dump the whole mess at Olivia’s feet and walk away.

Edward Ellingham had added his personal mobile number onto the letterhead when he’d written to Henry, the phrasing of the letter making no bones about his interest in the castle, so all Sebastian had to do was dial the number. Maybe he should wait for business hours, but he needed to do something, to be proactive. To try to move his situation forward. Once Sebastian had explained who he was, why he was phoning, and had gone through the ritual platitudes about his father’s death, an appointment for the beginning of the following week was confirmed.

With his phone set down, Sebastian took a moment to breathe, to begin to believe he could set his life back on the path he’d had to tear himself away from. To return to the enclave of fellow musicians he’d left in the lurch when he’d received the news of his father’s death. The people he couldn’t bring himself to contact because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it all together.

Sebastian needed to abandon reality for a moment, and remember who he was – not the Earl of Kirkshield, not that – instead the man he really was: musician and carefree connoisseur of Ikea crockery. He wanted to hide away, even if it was only for a few moments.

Closing the door on himself in the music room, Sebastian took a seat on the piano stool and began to play.