Free Silverbridge by Joan Wolf

And Tracy…”
    Dave groaned. “All right, I suppose you’d better take a look at the bathrooms. But I don’t know how we’re going to tell His Lordship and Lady Margaret that you don’t find their home suitable to house a movie star.”
    “We shall just have to hope that it is,” Greg said. “Because there really isn’t much other choice.”
     
     
    M eg went first to the stables, but Harry wasn’t there. Next she tried his office, which was a wood-paneled room next to the kitchen. He had left the door partly open, and Meg stopped for a moment in the doorway to look at her brother.
    Harry, wearing a brown wool sweater, was seated at a mode rn desk, his back to her, his eyes on his computer screen. The afternoon light slanting in from the high window over the computer lit his tawny hair and, as she watched, he muttered something under his breath, then slammed his open hand on the desk. The spaniels, which were lying on either side of his chair, raised their heads at the sound.
    “Not good news?” Meg asked as she came into the room.
    He swiveled around in his chair, causing Marshal to get up and look at him expectantly. When Harry didn’t get up, the spaniel lay back down again. Harry took off his ho rn -rim glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Meg. What are you doing here? I thought you were watching the movie shoot.”
    “I came to see you.” She went to sit in the old leather chair next to the desk. “Did you know that the Wiltshire Arms burned down last night?”
    His brown eyes widened. “No, I hadn’t heard.”
    She hooked her rain-straight hair behind her ears. “Well it did, and it has left all of the movie people who were staying there homeless. Greg—he’s the assistant director—tried to book them into other hotels today, but the point-to-point over in Castleton is tomorrow, and everything is taken.”
    Harry leaned back in his chair. “I was planning to go myself,” he said mildly. “One of my students is riding in it.”
    “Who?” Meg asked, momentarily distracted from her mission.
    “Matt Alder.”
    Meg nodded. Matthew Alder, Baron Carsford, was a jump rider, but over the winter he had taken a series of dressage lessons with Harry.
    Meg moved the conversation back on track. “Anyway, because of the point-to-point, the only lodgings available are in some bed-and-breakfasts in Littleton and Marlton. Greg says that the rooms are tiny and not appropriate for Tracy. Or for Jon.”
    Harry crossed his arms behind his head. “God forbid an American movie star should be forced to stay in an English B&B.”
    “Well you certainly wouldn’t like it.”
    He shrugged.
    “Anyway, I suggested that they stay here,” Meg said. “We have three empty bedrooms at the moment.”
    Harry’s arms dropped and he glared. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
    “Why not?” Meg asked. “The film company would pay you the same amount of money they were paying the Wiltshire Arms.”
    A little silence fell. Then he said abruptly, “It’s impossible, Meg. I have managed to work around the mess the movie people are making of my grounds, but I don’t want them living in the house with me.”
    “It would just be Tracy and Jon. They’re super, honestly, Harry. And they spend most of their time on the set or in their dressing rooms. You’d probably hardly see them.”
    He said stiffly, “I would like to think that I am not yet reduced to the status of a hotel keeper.”
    “You’d be a very well paid hotel keeper,” Meg shot back. “The Wiltshire Arms charges a fortune, and both Tracy and Jon had suites.”
    “I can’t offer them a suite,” he said. “I can’t even offer them a private bathroom. Did you explain that to whomever you were talking to? Perhaps your movie star friends won’t think Silverbridge is suitable.”
    “Anyone would rather stay at Silverbridge than in a B&B,” Meg said with certainty.
    Harry pushed his hair off his forehead. “Jesus, Meg gie, what’s going to happen if the