ravenous. I’d introduce myself in the kitchen and see what I could find to eat before searching for the twins again.
This time I found my way unerringly downstairs with no detours into neglected
wings of the house. On the way, I passed the maid I’d met earlier dust mopping the floor in a hallway. She looked up at my approaching footsteps then quickly bent her white-capped head again.
“By the way, I’m Graham Cowrie, the new tutor,” I introduced myself, since I’d
forgotten to on our first meeting.
She mopped the dark aged wood with silent intensity, refusing to acknowledge
my presence.
Another standoffish, slightly odd character to win over in this godforsaken place.
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” I added, fairly certain she’d never been complimented on her work in her entire life.
The girl darted another glance at me.
“And your name is…?” When no answer was forthcoming, just more frantic floor
polishing, I moved on.
“Molly Barrett.” A whisper floated after me.
“Pleased to meet you, Molly.”
In the kitchen, which was three times the size of my entire flat in the city, there was more activity going on than in the rest of the house put together. A large, red-faced woman in an apron and mobcap stirred something in a pot on the enormous stove while shouting orders at a scullery maid who poured milk into glasses.
“Good morning, ladies,” I greeted them. “Preparing lunch?”
The cook glared at me, and the long-jawed scullery maid gaped as if she’d seen an
apparition. New additions to the staff must be a rare sight.
Cook stabbed a knife into a blob of some sort of jellied thing that sat before her on the counter. “What do you want? The young masters aren’t here.”
“No. I’m afraid I’ve misplaced the boys. And I’ve missed breakfast. Not starting off on the right foot, I’m afraid. Would you happen to have a crust of bread or spot of tea to hold me until the next meal?”
I gave her my most winning smile, but it didn’t earn a simper or blush. In fact,
Cook scowled all the harder. Tough audience in this house.
“We have our work to do, and you have yours. You’ll eat when lunch is delivered
to you—upstairs in the schoolroom with the boys. Three meals a day is all I’m required to provide.”
She returned to stabbing at that poor slab of meat. I exchanged glances with the
horsey-looking maid and gave an exaggerated shrug. She showed just a glimpse of a
snaggletooth in a smile, shot a glance at the angry cook, and quickly returned to her work.
Such a friendly lot to spend my entire winter with, I thought as I retreated from
the kitchen with a grumbling stomach.
I had no more excuse not to hunt for Whit and Clive, though I couldn’t begin to
guess where they were. The grounds beyond the gardens included woods, meadows, and streams. Two energetic youngsters accustomed to running wild might be anyplace. But the day had turned cloudy and rain spattered the windowpanes, so I suspected the boys might have squirreled themselves away somewhere within the enormous house.
My own sense of adventure led me to explore once more the ancient fortress at
the heart of the newer wings. If I were a boy, that was where I’d spend my time. I could only assume Clive and Whit might play the same sorts of games, climbing to the highest battlements to survey the land below, imagining a legion of soldiers marching to attack the fortress, and coming up with counter strategies. Or perhaps pretending the tower was the eagle’s nest of a pirate ship they captained. Either way, these flights of fancy would take place in the highest point, that grim tower. Taking into consideration the light I’d seen upon my arrival, the sound I thought I’d heard on the stairs, and the door that swung mysteriously closed, it was a good bet the boys utilized the tower as a play area.
I wended my way past many closed chamber doors and paid another visit to the
medieval chapel with its dark
This time I found my way unerringly downstairs with no detours into neglected
wings of the house. On the way, I passed the maid I’d met earlier dust mopping the floor in a hallway. She looked up at my approaching footsteps then quickly bent her white-capped head again.
“By the way, I’m Graham Cowrie, the new tutor,” I introduced myself, since I’d
forgotten to on our first meeting.
She mopped the dark aged wood with silent intensity, refusing to acknowledge
my presence.
Another standoffish, slightly odd character to win over in this godforsaken place.
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” I added, fairly certain she’d never been complimented on her work in her entire life.
The girl darted another glance at me.
“And your name is…?” When no answer was forthcoming, just more frantic floor
polishing, I moved on.
“Molly Barrett.” A whisper floated after me.
“Pleased to meet you, Molly.”
In the kitchen, which was three times the size of my entire flat in the city, there was more activity going on than in the rest of the house put together. A large, red-faced woman in an apron and mobcap stirred something in a pot on the enormous stove while shouting orders at a scullery maid who poured milk into glasses.
“Good morning, ladies,” I greeted them. “Preparing lunch?”
The cook glared at me, and the long-jawed scullery maid gaped as if she’d seen an
apparition. New additions to the staff must be a rare sight.
Cook stabbed a knife into a blob of some sort of jellied thing that sat before her on the counter. “What do you want? The young masters aren’t here.”
“No. I’m afraid I’ve misplaced the boys. And I’ve missed breakfast. Not starting off on the right foot, I’m afraid. Would you happen to have a crust of bread or spot of tea to hold me until the next meal?”
I gave her my most winning smile, but it didn’t earn a simper or blush. In fact,
Cook scowled all the harder. Tough audience in this house.
“We have our work to do, and you have yours. You’ll eat when lunch is delivered
to you—upstairs in the schoolroom with the boys. Three meals a day is all I’m required to provide.”
She returned to stabbing at that poor slab of meat. I exchanged glances with the
horsey-looking maid and gave an exaggerated shrug. She showed just a glimpse of a
snaggletooth in a smile, shot a glance at the angry cook, and quickly returned to her work.
Such a friendly lot to spend my entire winter with, I thought as I retreated from
the kitchen with a grumbling stomach.
I had no more excuse not to hunt for Whit and Clive, though I couldn’t begin to
guess where they were. The grounds beyond the gardens included woods, meadows, and streams. Two energetic youngsters accustomed to running wild might be anyplace. But the day had turned cloudy and rain spattered the windowpanes, so I suspected the boys might have squirreled themselves away somewhere within the enormous house.
My own sense of adventure led me to explore once more the ancient fortress at
the heart of the newer wings. If I were a boy, that was where I’d spend my time. I could only assume Clive and Whit might play the same sorts of games, climbing to the highest battlements to survey the land below, imagining a legion of soldiers marching to attack the fortress, and coming up with counter strategies. Or perhaps pretending the tower was the eagle’s nest of a pirate ship they captained. Either way, these flights of fancy would take place in the highest point, that grim tower. Taking into consideration the light I’d seen upon my arrival, the sound I thought I’d heard on the stairs, and the door that swung mysteriously closed, it was a good bet the boys utilized the tower as a play area.
I wended my way past many closed chamber doors and paid another visit to the
medieval chapel with its dark
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