note when she had to wipe the tears from her eyes. Ten ye

he guided his softly weeping mother to the Neyve mausole

e building since the last time he'd been here. T

for the last seven hundred years. No one was buried here anymore except the family and a few village resident

, and he had always found the idea of

yees. These were people who might as well have been family, including Francis Braxton, the butler, who at twenty years older than him, had c

. Their role was much more than that to Jasper, and they might both as well have been grandmothers to

state manager, Eric Shipley, the head gardene

ing a word with Chichester, patting his back in a placat

ornate lead-lined coffin in front of him. His father kept him

husband either. Perhaps now his mother would find some happines

rs stood to one side, ready to wheel the lead-lined coffin inside. Jasper wondered if some duke in the future would have to build onto this small building. He

o ashes, dust to dust; in

eum was finally closed, and Jasper put his mother's arm throu

, both of them watching a co

he chestnut who was shaking his mane

month. Your father loved going the

th you if you'

slyn shrugged "If

g a cloud around him. "I'm sorry, about

t honestly, Jasper, would it have been so hard just to come home and rally the troops? You have a responsibility here now, and drinking with your friends will have to wait." She stopped walking and glanced at her son, "I don't know what's in your father's will, I'm hoping everything is just left t

uary, and he wouldn't let you be without a home, mum. I know

in conditions for you. I don't know what, but Henry and your father argued a g

ou," Jasper spoke on the phone to his friend rock -star Gabrie

funeral?" G

ere all there for my dad. He was old school, didn't associate with the villagers. T

ad did some good things in the village.

his mother, he'd been anxious, wondering