here before us. We helped ourselves to the food and a nearby pitcher of water. There was no chocolate or tea, nothing to warm us.
We ate in silence; both overwhelmed by the silence of the Abbey and the oppressive atmosphere it engendered. However, we left the room a little more satisfied in body. Then we had to find a way out, since we were determined not to stay in this gloomy, dank house a moment more than we had to.
We doubted the Great Hall would be open at this time of day and decided to try to find a side door. It took some time. We traversed up and down several narrow corridors, but eventually we found a door to the outside world, and luckily for us, it was unlocked. We hurried blissfully outside, as though we escaped from a prison.
This side of the house was relatively well kept, the path clear and not pitted like the main drive. After we took a few deep breaths of the clean, autumn air, we decided to discover where it led, perhaps to the stables.
Rounding a corner, we nearly collided with Mr. Kerre. Flustered, I smiled politely. My society manners had never been what they should be—at least that’s what Lizzie had always told me, though I found they served well enough.
He smiled in a friendly manner. “I thought I might take a morning ride.”
“You must have been up early.” Everyone knew about, or thought they did, the late hours kept by members of polite society. I presumed the Kerre brothers didn’t get up much before noon.
“I’m not used to sleeping in. Besides, there isn’t much rest to be had on a lumpy bed.”
We joined in his good natured laughter. “Lord Hareton told me he has been up since five,” Mr. Kerre continued. “He says he rises to pray for guidance throughout the night if he cannot sleep.”
We took the information with complete gravity, in the same way Mr. Kerre delivered it. After all, a man was entitled to his beliefs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been awake at five,” Lizzie said.
Mr. Kerre smiled. “Oh, I have, but recently it’s been from the other end and I’ve been retiring, not rising. The few times I’ve risen at that time have been for a journey, not for prayer.”
“Are such hours frequently kept in London, sir?” Lizzie was ever eager to be in the know. “We are to go next Season, you know, to visit our Aunt Godolphin.” Knowing such exalted people might give her the entrée she needed next year. Aunt Godolphin never made any bones about informing us that we would be unlikely to obtain access to the ton if we stayed with her, although her contacts were most respectable, and we could expect to enjoy ourselves and perhaps make a few useful connections. But with the acquaintance of one of the privileged few, our chances went up.
Lizzie’s eager innocence seemed to amuse him. “Such hours are regularly kept by some people. I can’t say I know your aunt, but, of course, I’ve been away a very long time.” That was a kind thing to say.
We turned and began to walk along the path toward the stables together. It seemed the only way we could go, apart from back to the house, as weeds and overgrown plants tangled every other path. This abandonment seemed malicious, as though something more than financial ruin had caused this desolation.
It was blessedly easy to talk to Mr. Kerre. His manners were not in the least condescending. “You went to India, I believe, sir,” I said.
He smiled. His stern features softened, and at once underwent a change that persuaded me that I could talk to him without fear of ridicule. I imagined that he never ignored the more unfortunate girls at public gatherings. “It wasn’t exactly voluntary, but I came out of it better than I deserved.”
We hadn’t expected him to be this frank. I found it refreshing, but from the look on her face, Lizzie found it disconcerting. “I think you’re past all that now, sir,” I said.
“Just so,” he agreed cheerfully.
The stables were in much better repair than the main
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley