Peril at pennington mano.., p.1
Peril at Pennington Manor, page 1
Peril at Pennington Manor
AN AVERY AYERS ANTIQUE MYSTERY
Tracy Gardner
For my dad, who introduced me to Nancy Drew
Chapter One
“Race you home.”
Avery Ayers raised one eyebrow at her dad jogging beside her. She brushed the strands of long brown hair off her face toward her high ponytail. “You’ll lose.”
“Let’s find out.” William broke into a sprint, kicking up dirt and gravel as he took off toward their lilac-lined driveway down the road.
Four months ago, Avery wouldn’t have believed she’d be running with her dad. She’d gone to his funeral a year earlier, after all. She shifted into high gear and joined him, taking the lead as they approached the long driveway to the gray Craftsman-style home. The truck parked outside the garage hadn’t been there when she and William left. Avery’s sometime beau Art was on the green lawn throwing a Frisbee for Halston, Aunt Midge’s majestic black Afghan hound—not so majestic as he launched himself toward the flying disk and missed, fur flying. Halston had been a welcome addition last year when Midge moved in to help out. She was now back in her luxurious Manhattan apartment, but no one had had the heart to make Halston give up the Ayerses’ large, fenced-in yard in rural Lilac Grove.
Avery slowed to a walk, letting her dad catch up. She usually used the driveway to cool down, and she wasn’t in any kind of hurry to see why Art was here. William fell in step beside her. “I almost had you,” he said. “Did you know your detective was coming by?”
“No.” Her detective had a lot of nerve. It was one thing to stop by unannounced, but then to stay and hang out with their overly friendly dog once he knew she wasn’t home? She gritted her teeth. And he had an issue with her boundaries. She could feel her dad looking at her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I think he’s here for Halston.”
She snickered. “Could be.” Art was giving the dog plenty of pats and ear scratches before tossing the Frisbee again.
“You still don’t want to talk about it?” her dad asked. “Judgement-free zone here.”
She linked her arm through his. “Thank you. But no.” Art and Halston approached the driveway. “Not now, anyway.”
“All right.” He lowered his voice. “Do we hate him?”
“Of course not,” she said. There was no way she could ever hate Art. She wouldn’t have gotten her father back if not for him.
“Well, that’s a relief.” The three of them met, and Halston wiggled between each of them, soaking up the attention. William held out a hand. “Hey there, Art. Good to see you.”
He shook her father’s hand. “Hi, Bill. Avery.”
She stared at him. He should have called.
William moved toward the house. “I’ll let you two catch up. I’ve got some work to get to.” He checked his watch on the way up the porch steps, Halston at his heels. “We’ll leave in about an hour to meet with the duke, Avery.” He was gone.
She studied the detective as he turned back to face her. At six four, he had five or six inches on Avery, who’d been the tallest girl in every class from eighth grade all the way through grad school a few years ago. A dark-brown scruff covered his angular jawline. His hazel eyes were light today under the bright blue sky. He looked as troubled as she felt at seeing him. “I’ve missed you,” she blurted, cursing her faulty filter.
Relief washed over Art’s features. He knit his dark eyebrows, hopeful. “Avery. We should talk.”
“Right. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? We should talk, but you wouldn’t. Now you suddenly want to?” She heard the cutting edge in her tone, but she couldn’t help it. They’d been doing so well, until—she still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened.
“You know it’s more complicated than that,” he said evasively.
Avery stretched her arms high above her head and slowly arced them out to her right, then back over to her left. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, the way Dr. Singh had taught her to, trying to exhale that sharp edge along with it. “It’s not complicated. I’m an open book. You know pretty much everything about me. But you … you’re a closed book.” She reached back and grabbed the toe of one running shoe, pulling her foot up toward her behind to stretch her quads.
“I’m not a closed book.”
She did the same with her other foot. “Closed and locked, like my eighth-grade diary.”
He didn’t crack a smile. “You’re exaggerating. This is all only about one thing—”
“One apparently life-altering thing.” She bent at the waist and pressed her forehead to her knees, blowing out an aggravated breath before straightening back up again. “And when I tried to pick the lock, you changed the combination, and then you set the thing on fire to make sure I’m really shut out.”
He frowned. “Um. You’re losing me. You’re making too much of this, I promise.” He tipped his head. “I’ll unlock the diary. Or give you the code. You can read me.” Her eyes were drawn to his lips, where the faintest hint of a grin threatened to break through.
“So … you’re an open book now?” Was he capable? Could the deeply guarded Detective Art Smith really let her in? She searched his eyes for some clue that he meant it.
He held her gaze intently. “Completely. I’ll prove it. How about tonight? Let me take you out. I’m a much better date than some stuffy duke.”
Avery laughed. So he’d caught that. “It’s a work thing. We’re going to meet Aunt Midge’s friend who just flew in from Europe, from this small kingdom called Valle Charme. He wants to discuss hiring us to appraise an entire mansion full of antiques in the Hudson Valley before he sells the place. Some of it goes back centuries.”
Art’s eyebrows went up. “Nice. Then I guess you definitely have to meet with the duke.”
“Yes, we do. But … maybe next weekend?”
Disappointment colored his features. “Oh. Sure. Are you busy all week?”
Avery had moved home from Philadelphia to take over running her parents’ business, Antiquities and Artifacts Appraised, after the accident. She and her younger sister, Tilly, had been in the back seat of the family car on the way home from dinner when sabotage had caused the car to plunge into a ravine, killing both their parents. Or so they’d thought. Four months ago, when Avery had discovered that the priceless ruby she was authenticating was linked to the accident, she’d learned her father was still alive and in protective custody. She and Art had followed the clues to her mom’s killer, and William was finally able to return home, knowing his family would be safe. The horror of believing he was dead was instantly forgiven by William’s daughters and his two business partners, and eventually by tiny but mighty Aunt Midge.
Now Avery nodded in response to Art’s question. She had an inkling he’d hoped to take her out sooner than a week from now, but it couldn’t be helped. “We still get a steady influx of assignments from the museum, and ever since Sir Robert won us the auction house contract, it’s been nonstop. I’m not complaining,” she added.
“Sounds like it’s been great for the business,” he agreed. “Are you free next Friday night?”
She cringed. “I, uh … I can’t Friday. How about Saturday?” She wasn’t trying to be difficult. She couldn’t tell him what she’d be doing Friday. A stab of guilt prodded her, but she shrugged it off. They hadn’t dated in almost two months; she had nothing to feel guilty about.
“I’ll take it. I’ll let you get to your work thing.”
The space between them, the lack of a hug good-bye, punctuated Avery’s unrest and mixed emotions about the detective. She raised a hand in a wave as he drove away and then headed inside to shower.
* * *
Two hours later, Avery and her father turned onto the long, winding driveway that led to Pennington Manor. She’d first met Nicholas Pennington IV this summer in London when they’d been settling Tilly into school at the voice conservatory. Aunt Midge had brought her and William along on a lunch date with the duke, who was delightful. Avery leaned forward in the passenger seat, craning to take it all in once they were through the gated entry. The approach was beautifully lined with rosebushes and perfectly manicured gardens. A man in jeans and a wide-brimmed hat worked with pruning shears near one of the enormous stone pillars at the edge of the circular parking area. The manor’s elegant gray brick-and-stone exterior was a study in authentic Old English architecture, complete with tall parapets overlooking the spectacular river and valley and conical spires rising above circular turret staircases. To call it a manor didn’t quite do it justice. It was a castle, right down to the pretty lily ponds flanking the east and west wings. There was even a greenhouse and a large stable. A long tan building opened onto a fenced corral leading out to a rolling green pasture, where a young man was walking a horse that towered over him. Several other horses grazed peacefully. Pennington Manor reminded Avery of something out of a fairy tale, beautiful and serene.
William pulled around the circle and parked a few car lengths away from two black town cars with trunks standing open, midway through being unpacked. Avery nodded in greeting to the middle-aged couple pulling suitcases from the cars. She knew the duke’s children were flying in but doubted the son of a sovereign leader would unpack his own suitcases. And besides, these two bore no resemblance to any of the family photos Avery had found online in her research. She’d spent last night reading up on the Penningtons in preparation for today’s meeting.
Avery and Willi
A red Tesla Model X came to an abrupt stop alongside William’s car. The young man who climbed out was oddly dressed in expensive-looking black trousers and dress shoes and a gray T-shirt bearing the words Bowling is right up my alley. He sprinted up the steps to where Avery and her dad stood, brown paper bag in one hand. He flashed a grin, and Avery recognized his striking good looks from her research. Twenty-two, recent Cambridge University grad, and award-winning polo player, Percy Pennington was the younger of Duke Pennington’s two sons.
He held out his hand. “Lord Percy Pennington. You must be here to do the photos for the real estate company. You’ll want to fetch your equipment, won’t you?” His words held the same inflections as his father’s. Avery recalled that Valle Charme, the island the Penningtons were from, was somewhere off the southern coast of France.
“We’re, uh, from the antiques appraisal company,” Avery offered. The man looked exactly like what she’d expect of royalty, except for his attire. “Duke Pennington is expecting us.” She extended her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Sir Percy—um, no, sorry—I mean, my lord, er—”
William interrupted, saving her from further butchery of the man’s title. “I’m William Ayers, and this is my daughter Avery. Your father arranged a meeting to discuss the appraisal of the manor’s items.”
Percy Pennington nodded. “Right. He mentioned something about that.” He pushed the heavy door open and led them inside to a stately, two-story-high vestibule. The couple with the suitcases skirted past them and made their way to the wide, curving staircase. A younger woman entered from an adjacent room, and Percy stopped her. “Suzanne.” He held the paper bag in the air. “Put this in the freezer. God forbid my mother doesn’t have her gelato before bed.”
“Oh!” The woman’s eyes widened, her gaze moving from him to Avery and William and then back to Percy. “I would have sent Roderick if I’d known the duchess needed something, Lord Pennington. I’m sorry you had to be inconvenienced.” Suzanne’s pretty, delicate features were made even more so by her large blue eyes and blond bangs. She was treating the duke’s son with such deference, Avery guessed she was also an employee at the manor.
“No need to apologize.” He winked at her. “It was a good excuse to take the new toy for a spin. Oh, Suzanne—”
Avery thought he was about to introduce them. Percy continued, “Take the Ayerses up to my father.” Suzanne was definitely staff. There were no niceties, and Percy apparently didn’t feel it necessary to introduce the manor’s employees to … well, Avery and her father were also employees now, weren’t they?
“Of course,” the young woman said in response, turning her attention to Avery and William. “If you’ll please follow me?”
Suzanne led them in silence up the staircase and down a long hallway. Along the way, Avery slowed and tapped her father’s arm, pointing to an alcove with a sitting area overlooking the entryway below. Displayed upon a pedestal was one of the pieces the duke had mentioned, a handsome bronze sculpture of a man with his hound. Companions was a rare creation by Famke from the 1840s, the life-sized piece larger than Avery had expected. Beside it was a stunning French provincial–style Gustavian sofa done in royal, textured tones, a polished trumeau mirror above it. Even the ornate crystal chandelier hanging overhead must be highly valuable. This place was an antiques appraiser’s dream.
A high-pitched shriek of laughter burst from the large room on their left, followed by more giggles. Avery spied two adorable little girls running in circles around and underneath a sheet draped across a couch and an armchair in the room—a makeshift tent. A petite brunette in khakis was unpacking an open suitcase on the four-poster bed, the bedding lavish and plush in deep burgundy and cream. A second woman, tall, thin, and dressed head to toe in black, stepped into view near the doorway. Ignoring Avery, she made eye contact with Suzanne. The woman’s gaze dripped with so much contempt, Avery shuddered. The woman placed a well-manicured hand on the heavy wooden door and slammed it. Suzanne made no comment.
Avery widened her eyes at her dad, finding him equally bewildered.
“Here we are,” Suzanne announced when they’d reached the open door at the end of the hallway. At his desk, Duke Nicholas Pennington IV was deep in conversation with a younger man opposite him in a leather armchair. He smiled as Suzanne announced Avery and William. “Your Grace, your guests have arrived.” She held a hand out for them to enter.
Both men rose, the duke coming around his desk. In his late fifties, Nicholas Pennington IV still possessed the build of a much younger man. His dark hair showed only traces of gray at the temples, and it was easy to see where Lord Percy’s good looks came from. He immediately put Avery and William at ease with his warm welcome, shaking William’s hand and greeting Avery with the briefest kiss on each cheek. “Avery, William, I so appreciate you coming today. This is my eldest son, Nicholas. Nico, William is our good friend Midge’s brother. And this is Avery, Midge’s niece.”
Percy Pennington’s older brother wore jeans and a black button-down. Nico appeared to be around thirty or so. He was taller and broader than Percy but graced them with the same dazzling smile. “Good to meet you. I see the resemblance to the lovely Midge. Your aunt is always a welcome guest in Valle Charme,” Nico said. “I do hope we’ll see her while we’re in New York.”
Avery nodded. “I’m certain you will. She probably would have come with us today if she hadn’t had a prior commitment.”
“We’ll have her out for dinner,” the senior Nicholas Pennington said. “How was your drive in?”
“Not bad at all,” William said. “Under an hour.”
Nico spoke as the duke ushered them over to a sitting area. “Father, William, Avery, please excuse me. I have that four o’clock with the broker,” he said to his father. “I’ll leave you three to talk antiques.”
“It was nice meeting your sons,” Avery said, once Nico was gone. “We met Lord Percy when we arrived. You must be pleased your family was able to travel with you.”
“Yes. It isn’t always easy to coordinate schedules, but they wanted to be here,” the duke said. “Especially as we begin discussing plans for some of the heirlooms and antiques in the manor.”
“Of course.” It made sense. The duke and his extended family would need to keep things equitable. “Your home is absolutely stunning,” Avery said. She’d seen only a fraction of the manor and was already wowed.
“Thank you. Though it’s by no means my home. In years past, we’d come on holiday now and then, but my late mother was much more attached to it than I ever was.”
Avery spoke. “Duke Pennington, please accept our condolences. My aunt Midge says the duchess—I mean, the dowager duchess—was a lovely, sweet woman.” She frowned at her flub. She’d read up on the Penningtons of Valle Charme in preparation for today’s meeting and Googled proper etiquette around royals during their drive here, but now she wished she’d done a more thorough job preparing. The duke’s mother’s title had the elder designation, as the duke’s own wife, Mariah, was the duchess. Should she have addressed him as Your Grace, the way Suzanne had?
He leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “Please. Might we dispense with the formalities? I understand it’s difficult for the staff here to alter the manner in which they address my family. My mother was a stickler for procedure. But my friends call me Nick.”
Avery smiled. “Are you sure? How about Nick unless you’re with your family or the staff? I’ll feel too disrespectful otherwise.”
“I’ve got to agree with her there,” William said. “I do want to say, your mother passed so recently. If you decide to have us handle the manor’s appraisals, it will take a while. Several days at least. And we hate to intrude. If you feel your time in the Hudson Valley is better spent enjoying the company of your family, Avery and I assure you we’ll make your contract a priority whenever you decide to start the process. Even if it’s months from now.”
Avery stared at her dad. It hadn’t occurred to her to suggest the duke wait. It should have; she and her father were still working through all the emotions that came with losing Anne last year. Grief didn’t resolve itself quickly. “My father’s right. We can do this anytime. It’s up to you.”
