A Winter’s Tale by Trisha Ashley

open. ‘But Jack said you would —he’s had the documents drawn up and everything—andnow I have explained it all to you, you must see that it is Jack’s by right!’
‘No, it’s not—it’s mine. Grandfather trusted me to look after Winter’s End and his dependants, and that’s what I’m going to do. The house needs me. I’m sorry if Jack is disappointed, but that is my final decision. Here I am, and here I’ll stay—whatever it takes!’
She stared at me. ‘You looked just like my brother when you said that! Strange, for you are so dark you could be a changeling in the family. But you are quite attractive, in your way,’ she added in a non-sequitur, ‘and possibly not too old to give Winter’s End an heir.’
‘I already have—Lucy,’ I pointed out, ‘and I wasn’t planning to have any more.’
She shrugged off Lucy and changed tack. ‘Jack is coming down this weekend. He is very handsome, isn’t he?’
To my annoyance I felt myself grow pink. ‘Very.’
‘And very persuasive,’ she added, and smiled slightly acidly. ‘I am sure you will soon see sense once he has explained things to you in person. He sent you the bouquet over there, by the way, with a very nice message.’
One of those arrangements of out-of-season, sterile-looking blooms in an incongruously modern vase filled with what looked like (and possibly was) frogspawn, stood on a side table, a white card propped up against it: but shouldn’t my message have been sealed in a little envelope?
‘We won’t discuss it any more at the moment, because I am sure things will work out for the best in the end,’ Aunt Hebe said, seemingly more to herself than to me. ‘Right will prevail, one way or the other.’
I could see which way her mind was now heading—and whose rights she was concerned about—but I no longer knew quite what to think of Jack. For one thing, I’d like to know if my grandfather’s suspicions were correct andsomething had been going on between him and this Melinda Christopher, who would be a rather hard act to follow…I was just about to try a bit of delicate—or indelicate—probing on the matter, when I saw that Aunt Hebe was staring fixedly at the shabby carpetbag I’d dumped on the bed.
‘Wasn’t that your mother’s?’
‘Yes. She had very few possessions because she was always travelling about, and she tended to give her stuff away. But this she hung on to.’
‘But the book—Alys Blezzard’s household book—Jack said you hadn’t got it? You don’t think your mother would have given that away or…or lost it? We assumed, when we discovered that it was missing, that she took it with her.’
I looked directly, and slightly accusingly, at her. ‘Mum did tell me about Alys Blezzard’s book, and that the original was kept locked away. But just how did Jack know about it? I thought it was supposed to be a secret, passed down only through the women of the family?’
She shifted a little, guiltily evading my gaze. ‘Oh, Jack thinks it’s only an old book of household hints and recipes—which it is , really. He’s terribly interested in anything to do with the history of Winter’s End—and anyway, it isn’t truly secret because copies of the recipes have been passed on by generations of Winter women, especially daughters leaving to get married—but not all of it, of course, just the useful bits. We always assumed your mother took it with her, but I suppose she could simply have hidden it somewhere before she left.’
‘If you thought she took it, you probably haven’t had a real search for it. I expect it’ll turn up,’ I suggested, noticing for the first time that Charlie had managed to scramble on the bed and now had his head inside the carpetbag.
So that’s where I had put the Eccles cakes.

Chapter Seven: Cold Embers
Father hath ridden over and hastily closed with the bargain, not seeking my wishes in the matter, though it is contrary to my will. I hear rumours that he too is to wed again,