Vivian Conroy - Rubies in the Roses

Guinevere sat motionless. It was an interesting proposition with explosive potential.

Oliver looked at his father. ‘He has a point with this suggestion. You also heard from this source, didn’t you. After all, you suspected Wadencourt was coming, or you wouldn’t have taken out that book about the goblet and Cornisea.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m glad that raving mad woman is leaving so we can eat in peace.’ Bolingbrooke gestured at Cador, who had followed everything with silent attention. ‘The first course, please. I’m starving.’

***

After dinner Guinevere took a breath of fresh air in the courtyard when Oliver appeared by her side. ‘Take a look at this,’ he said in a low tone. He handed her his mobile phone.

Guinevere had to look closely to understand what he meant.

The screen showed her several small shots like someone’s feed on social media. Then Oliver pulled the phone from her hand, tapped the screen and suddenly it was filled with a picture of her own face as she smelled a yellow rose in her palm. She recognized it as taken this afternoon on their way to the harbour. Max had posted it with the caption Lady of the Roses .

It had been liked over two hundred times, and people had also replied to it saying things like Congrats, man, she’s a looker or Are you in a relationship now? Whyyyyy? We wuv you!!!! The latter reply had a crying emoji after whyyyyy? and ended with several red heart emojis.

Oliver said, ‘Why did he post this?’

Guinevere shrugged. ‘No idea.’ Maybe to prove to her that she was beautiful?

Her face was on fire just thinking about it.

Oliver said, ‘You should be careful around him. I texted a few of my colleagues to ask if they knew DeBurgh.’

Guinevere looked him over. As a nature film-maker Oliver had lots of contacts in the photography and filming business. ‘Yes?’ she said.

‘Several of them have worked with him and said he’s hot-headed and volatile. Loves you one day, treats you like dirt the next. Especially when he feels like he didn’t get his dues.’

Guinevere stood motionless. She could still see Max snapping at Dolly, his body tight as if he was ready to slap at the dog. That had struck her as really unpleasant. Did Oliver’s comment confirm that Max was indeed volatile?

But didn’t everybody have moments where they were curt just because they were tired or under pressure? Max had explained to her that the assignment here on Cornisea was important to him. Who knew what demands he placed on himself to succeed?

Oliver said, softly and urgently, ‘I know my colleagues in and out. They wouldn’t just throw dirt at someone. If they say DeBurgh’s mood changes like a weathercock, they mean it. I just want you to be careful around him.’

Guinevere drew breath slowly. ‘First you send me after him to find out some things about him and now you tell me to stay away from him? Max might have been focused on his work and curt with people, but that doesn’t mean he’s aggressive. Those are completely different things. Just imagine what some people who have worked with you might say about you?’

Oliver’s jaw tightened. He said in a low voice, ‘People can’t say about me I got into a fight while drunk and beat somebody until others had to pull me off. Literal description: he would have killed the poor bloke if we hadn’t intervened.’

Guinevere studied Oliver’s expression. ‘Stories like that tend to get bigger and bigger every time they are told.’ She raised a hand to ward off further explanations. ‘I’ll tell you what: I’ll go see Max and ask him to take the photo of me down. I bet you he’ll do it, without an ugly word. That will prove he’s not volatile and we don’t have to worry about him being here at the castle. OK?’

‘That hardly proves anything,’ Oliver protested, but Guinevere had already turned away to go inside. Oliver’s tale about Max having beaten someone while drunk did make her uncomfortable, but for the moment she wanted to give Max the benefit of the doubt. She had to experience for herself what he was about, without someone else telling her what to think.

Wadencourt appeared on the stairs, and she asked him where Max was. ‘In the library I think,’ the historian replied with a vague wave over his shoulder.

Guinevere hurried to the library and opened the door.

Max was on the movable ladder looking for something on the top shelves. His quick movements suggested determination.

‘Hello!’ Guinevere called, and Max started, grabbing the edge of the shelf to steady himself. ‘Do you want me to take a tumble and break my neck?’ he yelled.

Dolly had moved into the room as if she wanted to run at him but seemed to have second thoughts at the volume and tone of his voice. She slunk back and hid behind Guinevere.

The dog’s fear of someone who had already snapped at her once tore at Guinevere’s heart. On top of Oliver’s suggestions about Max’s bad reputation with his colleagues she wasn’t sure what to think of him.

And what was he doing here in the library? He would never have managed to get in and get onto that ladder if Rufus and Nero had been here. But after dinner Bolingbrooke walked the dogs on the beach.

Had Max seen him leave?

Had he come here on purpose knowing the coast was clear?

What did he want to find anyway, rummaging through those books?

Her heart beat fast at the idea that Max’s surreptitious behaviour seemed to support Oliver’s negative take on him. She had come up here to prove the opposite. How could she go back to Oliver and defend Max to him when she wasn’t even sure what he was doing now?

She said challengingly, ‘I doubt that Lord Bolingbrooke gave you permission to go through his books.’

Max waved a hand at her. ‘He did say I could use the library when I needed something. When we talked before dinner. I came in here to print something and then I saw all of these beautiful old books. I just wanted to have a look around and determine if this library would make a good backdrop for a photo shoot with the goblet.’

It sounded plausible. She had seen Max come in with Bolingbrooke as dinner was about to start.

But she wanted to push him a little to see if he responded in any way that supported Oliver’s ‘volatile’ suggestion. So she said in a forced brusque tone, ‘And why did you post my picture on your feed? I told you not to snap me because it makes me feel awkward and you did it anyway and now you’ve even put it out to the world where everyone can have an opinion about it.’

Max blinked at her. ‘You didn’t tell me at all that it made you feel awkward. What on earth for? You look beautiful.’

‘I haven’t read all the comments, so there might be spiteful ones among them. Things that would hurt me if I did read them. Besides, all of these people act like they’re entitled to you.’

‘Well, they’re not. And you’re pretty; you deserve to be shown off.’ Max had clambered down and studied her. ‘Why would comments from perfect strangers hurt you?’

He rocked back on his heels. ‘Or are you hiding out here? Are you on the run from someone?’

‘Of course not.’ Guinevere was shocked at the suggestion. How did Max get such an idea into his head?

Max came closer and looked into her eyes. ‘There’s something sad about you. Like you’ve been through things, bad things. A relationship maybe in which you were put down all of the time? I don’t want to hurt you, honestly. I wanted to cheer you up by snapping your picture and showing you how you look to me.’

He smiled at her. ‘I want us to have a good time together. I’m here to work, sure, but that won’t take all day.’