Ancient Appetites Read Online Free PDF Page B

but he was too tired to be concerned. It was probably no threat at all; most likely just some groom returning after a frolicking with one of the housemaids.
    To refer to Wildenstern Hall as a house was a pitiful understatement, but there were few words that could do it justice. It was far too tall to be just another manor house, but too grand to be a tower. At its highest point it was thirty storeys of gothic magnificence; a monolith, a cathedral of commerce. The smaller wings around the main structure were older, but just as grand in their own way. Wildenstern Hall had grown over the generations, and now, in the mid-nineteenth century, its new size reflected the unprecedented wealth the family enjoyed.
    The lights from the courtyard only illuminated the bottom two floors; above, there was just a shape, dotted with the occasional lit window. Near the top it was difficult to distinguish them from the stars.
    'Welcome 'ome, sor,' a voice greeted him in a thick Donegal accent. 'I 'eard yeh come en. I see yev find yerself a new wee animal there, sor.'
    'Hennessy.' Nate smiled wearily at the lithe middle-aged man with the enormous white sideburns who stood before him. 'Yes, it's a fine brute, isn't it? Its name is "Flash". Would you find it a stall, and water it for me? And I'll need a saddle. Whatever fits for now, but have one ordered to measure as soon as possible please.'
    He climbed off the velocycle, and Hennessy went to take one of its horns. It snarled its engine at him, making him jump.
    'Ah.' Nate raised his hand. 'Perhaps I should put it to bed myself. You lead, and I'll follow.'
    With the velocycle ensconced in a comfortable, straw-strewn stall, complete with water trough, Nate bade the head groom goodnight and trudged across the yard to the house. He took his mucky boots off by the door and walked in through the servants' entrance, causing alarm among some unfortunate members of staff who had been relaxing, thinking themselves safe from the eyes of their masters. He handed the boots to one of the young kitchen boys playing marbles in the corner, confident that his footwear would be spotless within the hour, and waved to the cook, who was tucking into the leftovers of an expensive dessert normally reserved for them upstairs. He ignored the flustered parlourmaid who was warming her bare feet on the lap of a helpful pageboy.
    Nathaniel did not feel ready to greet his whole family – and particularly not his father. Nobody would voice their suspicions, but they would all be thinking the same thing. It was an incredible coincidence that he had arrived home on the same day that Marcus had died. Too much of a coincidence.
    The men would be in the smoking room now that dinner was over, and the women would have retired to their own recreations. His arrival would be greeted with more fuss and bother than he could bear. He took the servants' mechanical lift up to the residential floors, and watched the brass needle turn as the lift rose. The elevator car stopped with a barely perceptible settling, built to limit any noise that might disturb the family. The doors opened with a quiet slide, and he stole down the rich pile carpet of the sumptuous, gas-lit hallway to his sister's room.
    Tatiana's maid was fast asleep in an armchair outside the door. She shouldn't have been napping – there was no way that Tatiana would be asleep yet. He tapped gently on the door. The maid woke with a shudder, but Nate put a finger to his lips and waved at her not to get up.
    'Who is it?' a voice chirped from inside.
    He opened the door and poked his head in.
    'A great big pirate, come to steal you off to Africa!'
    His fourteen-year-old sister, Tatiana, threw her book down, jumped off her bed and rushed over to the door.
    'Oh, Nate!' she exclaimed, pulling him into the room. 'You're back! Oh, it's so—' She stopped in mid-sentence. 'You do know about . . . about Marcus?'
    He nodded. She buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him.