“It’s just, that’s what you do when things get inconvenient, you disappear.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is it have a go at Ivy day?”
“No, but you have to admit that when things get a little uncomfortable for you, you run.”
“Run? I’m not running! I’m right here, dealing with this scandal and threat, which you asked me to do.”
“You’re not dealing with this because I asked you to, you’re doing it because you can’t help but need to know. It’s why you’re the journalist in the family.”
“Right, and? How is that me running?”
“Because, whilst this is important, you should be running after him, Ivy, not running in here to avoid whatever argument you’ve just had.”
My eyes are on stalks. I could be mistaken, but that sounded like he just inferred an emotional conversation was about to happen. It isn't.
“Go away. I have work to get on with,” I snark, looking back at the screen. “Not your office anymore.” He stays still, apparently not going away at all. “I don’t even know why you think it’s got anything to do with you, anyway.” Pompous arsehole. He really is as bad as Father. “You’ve hidden your relationship with Willow all the way through, and now you’re daring to question how I choose to deal with Blake? Let me put it plainly, Brother. Absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“That’s a rather tense response. Anyone would think you're emotionally involved. Might even be caught, Sister.”
My eyes turn to slits, annoyed with the sarcasm thrown back at me. “Tense? Were you the one kidnapped and nearly killed?” He’s still half smiling. Why is he doing that? “This is not funny, Landon. We’ve got no idea what might happen next if I don’t get to the bottom of this. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re not all over this like a rash, too.” And now he’s staring, as if I’m not talking sensibly. I am. This is important, and until I fathom the depth of the threat we could all be in, nothing should be getting in the way. “What if it had been Seffi? Would you find it more important then?”
He walks over to me, getting a little too close for my liking, especially when he grabs my hands and makes me get up. “A fair point well made. But it wasn’t Seffi, it was you, and you always manage to get yourself out of precarious situations,” he says. “And this time, it was because of Blake. So, because I don’t want you to make the mistakes I have, I’m going to give you some brotherly advice. Get on with it if it feels right. Don’t push him away.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Even him holding my hands like this feels weird. I look at them around my fingers, transported back to our youth again, and frown. “He seems like a good guy, Ivy, and he loves you. Christ knows why, frankly.” I look up at his face sharply, not at all pleased with that last statement. “But he does, and I think you're quite fond of him too if you’re truthful with yourself. Why don’t you just let it happen and see where it goes?”
He lets go of me and walks away, as if that’s all that needs saying. It isn’t really, I’ve got other things to say and other feelings to process, but he’s out the door and gone before I can get them out of my mouth. For once, his disappearance wounds rather than infuriates me. His words make sense, somehow. And now it's just me and my oddly confused thoughts about Blake again.
I sit and stare at the screen, then flip my gaze out the window when I see Landon walking through the gardens, probably to find Willow. Sweet. But I don’t need sweet right now, especially if he's not here anymore, no matter how emotive that conversation might have been. I need facts and specifics, actual hard evidence about what the hell has happened in this family.
Picking up the phone, I call Locke in the hope that he might have found something a little more solid for me to play with. Thankfully, he answers relatively quickly this time and manages to distract me from Landon's words by filling me in on some details he’s managed to find amongst the documents.
“But none of that means there’s anything scandalous,” I mutter, looking through the genealogy on screen. “It all correlates. It’s only this George chap that’s frustratingly out of place, and according to my father, he died young. We think he was mentally challenged.”
“That’s not what the death details say. He was older. And not only that, he had a son.”
“He what? Where did you find that?”
“I followed the thread from the files you gave me. It’s what I do, Ivy.” I shuffle the stack around, siphoning through each one until I find the birth certificate for George Broderick. It isn't until that moment that it occurs to me that there might be more info on all of this at Tallington. I'm sure I can remember old ledgers up in the attic from years ago. They might hold something useful. “Have you got it yet?”
“What?”
“The birth certificate for George?”
“How do you even know I’m looking for it?”
He chuckles mildly. “Because it would be what I was looking for if someone had said that to me.”
“Smartarse. Right, I’m reading it. How did you get from here to a son?” A text pops up on my phone screen, which includes input data for the genealogy reports that I can easily put into the ancestry system I’m currently in.
“Got that?”
“Yes. I’ll follow the links and get back to you.” My fingers fly over the keyboard, desperate to see where this next step might lead us. “Actually, did you get anything else?”
“A few bits, but I’ll let you get into that first. Glad to see your recent adventure hasn’t slowed you up.”
I ignore how he knows about what happened to me and Blake and look at the screen. Several names and old birth and death sheets start popping up, all of them leading to a Davis family. None of whom I’m familiar with. “Hold on, Noah. I might need to see you. We'll process quicker together. Do you know where Tallington Hall is?”
“Your place in the country?”
