‘This has all come as a great shock to her,’ said Clara, clasping her hands together.
‘I’m sure it has.’ He tried to imagine how shocking the news must have been for his housekeeper. ‘How is your mother doing? Perhaps I should have talked to her in private about what was happening, rather than have her hear it with everyone else.’
‘Yes, you should have.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘My mum has given you years of loyal service, as her mother did before her, and she’s devastated by today’s news that you didn’t have the decency to tell her about beforehand.’
Clara swallowed loudly and clasped her hands so tightly her knuckles blanched white.
‘I mean,’ she continued, ‘first, your family wrongly accuse my grandmother of stealing, and then you upend my mother’s life without giving her any warning of what was coming. It’s not an acceptable way to treat people.’
Geoffrey narrowed his eyes. Not many people criticised him, especially not his staff, although Clara wasn’t technically in his employ. She helped her mother out sometimes and she was currently back living in the grounds’ cottage. Which meant that she would lose her home, too.
Geoffrey sighed, any fight suddenly going out of him. The whole situation was awful and this girl was right, he hadn’t handled it as sensitively as he might have.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sinking back into his chair. ‘I’ll apologise to your mother the next time I see her.’
‘Oh.’ Clara blinked, seemingly surprised by his apology. ‘Right. Well, I’m sure that would be appreciated, though if you wouldn’t mind not telling her that I…well, you know…’ She tailed off, twisting her mouth.
‘That you collared me in my drawing room and tore me off a strip?’
The corner of her mouth lifted. ‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘I think I can manage that request.’ His mind flitted back to Clara’s admonishment. ‘What did you mean about your grandmother being accused of stealing?’
Clara blushed pink and pushed a hand through her fringe. ‘I didn’t mean to mention that. Though I don’t suppose it matters now we’re all leaving.’ She paused before continuing. ‘My grandmother, Violet, was accused of stealing the diamond necklace that went missing at the same time as your stepmother, Audrey.’
‘Was she?’
Geoffrey, only a child at the time, was so sad and confused after Audrey’s death, he’d hardly registered what was happening around him.
‘She didn’t do it, of course,’ said Clara, frowning.
‘Of course she didn’t.’ He remembered Violet – a tall, thin woman with kind eyes – baking cakes for him and asking how he was in the aftermath of the tragedy. Had his father really accused her of stealing the necklace? ‘Violet was always loyal to my family and very good to me after the death of my stepmother.’
‘I’m glad to hear that she helped you.’ The anger was gone from Clara’s voice and there was a look of her grandmother about her when she said quietly: ‘It must have been a terrible thing for a child to go through – someone you cared about simply disappearing.’
‘It was…’ Geoffrey fought to control the emotions rising inside him. ‘It was a difficult time.’
Clara gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry to have brought it up again.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, I’ve said what I wanted to say and you’re going to have a word with Mum so I’ll leave you in peace.’
She’d reached the door before Geoffrey said softly, ‘I saw her, you know.’
He hadn’t intended to tell her. He’d never told his wife or River or Bartie. But they’d never really asked about Audrey and that tragic day.
Clara stopped and looked back. ‘Who did you see?’
Geoffrey stared out at the garden bathed in bright sunlight. The weather had been very different that day. ‘Audrey. I was sitting at the library window and I saw her walk into the sea. That was how we knew what had happened to her when she disappeared.’
Clara was looking at him, with her mouth open.
‘I shouldn’t have been in the library at all, he added. ‘I was meant to be having dinner with my father but was excused to read a book because I felt unwell.’
‘Was Audrey on her own at the cove?’ Clara asked.
‘Yes, quite alone.’