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and levelled her with one dark look. His eyes, Mollie
thought, were endlessly black. No silver or gold glints, no warmth or light. Just black. ‘You mentioned there was damage. Besides the obvious?’
                 ‘It
looks like a virus has claimed most of the bushes in the Rose Garden. There are
a lot of dead trees that need to be cleared and cut, and of course all the
stonework and masonry need to be repointed.’ Jacob nodded, clearly expecting
her to continue. ‘I don’t want to take away from the beauty of the original
design,’ Mollie said firmly. ‘The gardens’ designs are at least five hundred
years old in some places. So whatever landscaping I do, I’d like to maintain
the integrity of the original work.’
                 ‘Of course.’
                 ‘Like
you’re doing with the house,’ she added. ‘Aren’t you?’
                 There
was a tiny pause. ‘Of course,’ he said again. ‘The house is a historic
monument. The last thing I want to do is modernise it needlessly.’
                 ‘Who
is overseeing the renovations?’
                 ‘I
am.’
                 ‘I mean, what company. Did you hire an architect?’
                 Another tiny pause. ‘J Design.’
                 Mollie
sat back, impressed. ‘They’re quite good, aren’t they?’
                 Jacob
gave her the faintest of smiles. ‘So I’ve heard.’
                 She
glanced around the room; even with the windows thrown open to the fresh summer
day, she thought she could still catch the stale whiff of cigarette smoke, the
reek of old alcohol. Or was that just her imagination? She felt claustrophobic,
as if the house and its memories were pressing in on her, squeezing the very
breath and life out of her. She could only imagine how Jacob felt. He had so
many more memories here than she did. ‘When are you hoping to put the manor on
the market?’
                 Jacob’s
face tightened, his mouth thinning to a hard line. ‘As soon
as possible.’
                 ‘You
won’t miss it?’ Mollie asked impulsively. She didn’t know what made her ask the
question; perhaps it was the force of her own memories, or maybe the way Jacob
looked so hard, so unfeeling. Yet he’d cared enough to give her her father’s
back pay and then some. Or was that just out of guilt or perhaps pity? Did the
man feel anything at all? Looking at his impassive face, she could hardly
credit him with any deep emotion. ‘It was your home,’ she said quietly.
‘Whatever happened here. ’
                 ‘And
it’s time for it to be someone else’s home,’ Jacob replied coolly. Mollie could
tell she’d pushed too far, asked too much. He rose from the desk, clearly
expecting her to rise as well. ‘Feel free to order whatever you need to begin
the landscaping work. You can send the bills to me.’
                 The
thought was incredible. The greatest commission she’d probably ever receive,
with carte blanche to do as she liked. It was like a dream. A
fantasy. Yet she still felt uneasy, uncertain … and no more so than when
she looked into Jacob’s dark eyes. It was like looking into a deep pit, Mollie
thought. An endless well of … sorrow. The word popped
into her mind, as unexpected as a bubble—the bubbles she’d felt earlier.
Perhaps sorrow was an emotion he felt.
                 ‘Thank
you,’ she finally said. ‘You’re putting an awful lot of trust in me.’
                 Jacob’s
face twisted for no more than a second, and something like pain flashed in his
eyes. Then his expression ironed out, as blank and implacable as ever. ‘Then
earn it,’ he replied brusquely. ‘Starting now.’ He
walked out of the study, leaving Mollie no choice but to follow.
     

  CHAPTER THREE

 
                 MOLLIE
threw herself into the work.