After passing the ‘Welcome to Firholme’ sign and the visitor car parks, the big house itself came into view.
Lottie never ceased to be impressed by how beautiful it was, and how spectacular the setting. In fact, everything about the Firholme estate had been designed to make a statement, to impress and wow visitors. The house had been built at the turn of the twentieth century as a ‘gentleman’s residence’. Its original owner had made his money from cotton mills, and every aspect, from the elaborate oak panelling and stone fireplaces to the grand staircase, was designed to impress guests and business associates with his ‘self-made’ wealth.
It was set in the middle of a large estate whose grounds stretched from the shore of Derwentwater right up to the high open fellsides, with gardens, outbuildings, cottages and woodland in between.
Lottie continued beyond the visitor car park and turned down a small track marked ‘Private’ until she reached a pair of semidetached cottages, situated a few hundred yards below the house and screened by a small stand of trees.
Back in the day, they’d been deliberately built well out of sight of the main house so its owners would never have had to see their workers’ humble cottages. That suited Lottie because it gave her privacy from the visitors and some demarcation between her working day and home life.
Each cottage had a postage-stamp front garden bordered by a low beech hedge with its own gate. She left the car outside the one called ‘The Bothy’, noting there was no sign of the muddy pick-up truck owned by her new neighbour. Jay Calder, Firholme’s newly recruited estates manager, had only moved in a week or so before.
Lottie had seen him standing beside his pick-up when she’d popped back to her cottage in the middle of the morning. He’d been unloading his possessions and had no one with him apart from a friendly black Labrador. She’d introduced herself, and when she’d asked him if he needed anything, or any help, he’d politely but firmly muttered, ‘Thanks for the offer, but I am fine.’
She’d walked back to work, with a sense even at this early stage that Jay wasn’t going to be the most sociable of neighbours. That was his business, of course, but she was unable to shake his image from her mind. Somehow, she’d expected a homely older man, not a good-looking guy around her own age. She could only wish him good luck if he didn’t want to be noticed. With his handsome face and physique, in a small community like Firholme, which was fascinated by any newcomer, he’d have a hard time not attracting attention.
Lottie went inside, changed into her suit, slicked on some lip gloss and hurried up to Firholme House where she’d arranged to meet her boss for a ‘quick chat’. Knowing Shayla Kendrick, Lottie knew it would be anything but quick, and definitely not just a ‘chat’.
‘Now, what Firholme really needs is a big juicy, lavish wedding that we can slap on the website and shout about on social media. The bigger, the better! We need a showpiece!’
Lottie’s boss threw her arms out like a diva on the last note of an aria. Shayla Lambert was clearly inspired by the grand setting of the ballroom of Firholme House. It was at least the fifth time that week Shayla had uttered this line in one form or another. She’d rescued the estate from near bankruptcy and was dedicated to turn it into a must-visit destination for events and weddings.
‘Well, the Valentine’s Week wedding fair will give us a huge boost,’ Lottie replied. ‘And I’ve secured several features in the bridal magazines from now right through to late spring.’
Shayla gave her an encouraging smile. ‘And that’s all good …’
‘Plus, we have the festive season coming up,’ Lottie pointed out. ‘The Edwardian Christmas evening will bring in lots of visitors and some may book other events. There’s a team-building day in the grounds and at least three big company Christmas parties.’
‘I know. I know you’ve worked very hard so far and I can’t believe how fast you organised that autumn antiques fair last month or how you managed to persuade all those performers and stallholders to take part in the Edwardian night.’
‘Most of them were contacts from when I worked at the Lakeland Hotel,’ Lottie said. ‘With a little persuasion, most were happy to add an extra date to their schedules – even if it is a new event at an untried venue.’
‘I knew you’d pull a rabbit out of a hat. That’s why I was so keen to poach you, but we do need as many showcase events as we can to make up for the start to the year.’
‘We’re definitely getting lots of enquiries …’ Lottie said, thinking of how long the nights had become, and how often she woke to autumn fog shrouding the view that Firholme was famous for.
Shayla smiled. ‘What you’ve achieved so far is great …’ Lottie waited for the ‘but’ …
‘If we could get a truly amazing wedding before Christmas, it would be such a showcase for Firholme, not to mention the revenue would help see us through. We really need to persuade people to come back in their droves.’
Lottie nodded in all the right places. Shayla was a dynamic and exciting boss to work for, if a little overoptimistic at times. Despite this, the fact remained: it was Lottie’s job to get the wedding calendar filling up, although she thought there wasn’t a cat in hell’s chance of securing one with Christmas only seven weeks away.
‘We should definitely set up a photo shoot with all our bridal suppliers.
