Chapter 15
Streaks of clouds in shades of orange, gold, and pink stretched across the sky like scarves tossed into the air. Veronica stood at the window of her bedroom, captivated by the sight of dawn in the Highlands.
Elspeth knocked on the door and entered, smiling brightly.
“Good morning, my lady,” she said. “Isn’t it the most glorious day?”
She wasn’t certain what kind of day it was going to be, and wasn’t that a pitiable thing?
The rumble of wheels prevented her from having to respond. A caravan of wagons, each piled high and covered with a canvas tarp, rumbled up the road and disappeared behind a nearby hill.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I suspect something His Lordship ordered,” Elspeth said, coming to the window. “They’ve been coming for hours. Would you like me to go find out, Lady Fairfax?” Elspeth asked.
“No,” Veronica said. “I’ll go see myself when I’m dressed.”
She flew through her morning ablutions, the only difficulty coming when Elspeth attempted to detangle her hair.
Finally, she asked her new maid to simply gather it and cover it with a lace snood.
No ringlets or elaborately styled hair softened her face.
Her eyes looked too wide, their shade an unremarkable hazel.
Her face was pale, her lips a little swollen, and softly pink.
Her maid was looking at her oddly, her head tilted to one side, her eyes narrowed slightly.
“What is it, Elspeth?”
“You look different, Your Ladyship, but I can’t quite decide what it is that’s different. Did you sleep well?”
Hardly at all, not a comment she’d make to her maid. She could feel warmth creep up her cheeks as she stood and grabbed her shawl.
“Mrs. Brody asked what time would be convenient for you to meet with the seamstress.”
She turned. “Seamstress?” she asked, although she already knew. Montgomery had made arrangements to augment her clothing.
Elspeth nodded.
“I’ll find Mrs. Brody myself,” she said, leaving Elspeth to set her rooms to rights.
Twice, she turned left when she should have turned right, and was given directions by a smiling maid. She waved away an offer to lead her to the housekeeper, saying she’d rather find her way. After all, she was to live here. The sooner she learned Doncaster Hall, the better.
The Blue Drawing Room was the first of the public rooms she investigated.
Here, the walls were hung with a blue damask fabric that focused the eye on the delicate plasterwork of the ceiling and the white mantel, with its frieze design of lions and thistles.
A larger drawing room was next, a room she privately thought of as The Picture Room, taking up the whole of the east side of the second floor.
Paintings of ships and men attired in naval uniform adorned one of the crimson walls.
The other walls were covered in landscapes of Doncaster Hall and portraits of previous Lords Fairfax with their wives.
Other art treasures sat on tables and credenzas, evidently placed to display them at their best advantage. She wasn’t an expert on porcelain, but the statue of a shepherdess looked valuable, as did the Chinese vases colored the same crimson hue as the walls.
On the top floor, she discovered a ballroom, its inlaid floor shiny with wax, a series of couches and chairs arranged along the sides of the room for weary dancers to rest. The musicians could either perform on the stage at the far end of the room or from the gallery above the dance floor.
As she walked through Doncaster Hall, the magnificence of the house called to her. She suspected there would be charm even in the scullery.
The nursery occupied the whole of the third floor, consisting of adjoining suites for nurse, governess, and tutor, and bedrooms for older children.
She stood in the doorway of a room designed for an infant, the large fireplace carefully screened, a comfortable chair in the corner adjacent to a reading lamp.
A carved bassinet sat in the opposite corner, ready for a new mattress and an occupant.
Resolutely, she pushed any thoughts of the future from her mind and continued her search for Mrs. Brody.
She was lost for a good ten minutes before she found herself in a wide corridor leading to the public rooms. She opened a door she thought was the dining room, one that would lead to the kitchen.
This wasn’t the dining room at all, but a strange room with curved walls, one covered in weapons. Worse, Mr. Kerr was seated at a table in the middle of the room.
She stepped backward, hoping the solicitor hadn’t heard her. Her hopes were dashed when Mr. Kerr raised his head and pinned her with a look.
“Can I assist you, Lady Fairfax?” he asked.
“No,” she said, stepping back. “I’m simply exploring Doncaster Hall. I apologize for the intrusion. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Without a guide?” he asked, putting down his pen.
“Do I need a guide, Mr. Kerr. In my own home?”
When he stood, she took another cautious step backward.
“Are you afraid of me, Lady Fairfax?”
She stared at him for a moment, uncertain how to answer. The solicitor wouldn’t understand the confusion she felt in his presence. His emotions felt restrained and blanketed as if he hid his feelings even from himself.
Something about the solicitor disturbed her, an odd feeling that grew stronger each time she met him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had an air of barely suppressed superiority, but then, she would have expected that if he knew the story behind her marriage to Montgomery.
“No, Mr. Kerr, I am not. Do you want me to be?”
“Indeed not, Your Ladyship. It’s just that you seem hesitant in my presence. As if you fear me, somehow.”
“This is quite an unusual room,” she said, looking around rather than responding to his comment.
“The Armory is one of the more famous rooms of Doncaster Hall. The 3rd Lord Fairfax purchased the weapons from the Office of Ordnance. It’s said he nearly stripped the Tower of London of its collection of swords, pistols, and other weapons.”
“Why?” she asked.
He looked surprised at the question. “To have them, of course.”
She looked around the room. One particular sword boasted a blade with a dark red stain. She sincerely hoped it was rust and not dried blood.
Mr. Kerr walked to the curved wall. “Twenty-five chests of weapons were delivered to Doncaster Hall, along with two men from the Tower who were skilled in their use. Now, they’re displayed here.”
“And you’ve chosen to work here.” She simply could not envision Mr. Kerr as a warrior. Perhaps a warlike squirrel, brandishing a nut as a weapon, but hardly more.
“Since the Armory contains an area for the cataloging and maintenance of the hundreds of weapons stored here, I’ve chosen to use this desk, yes.”
“A reminder of England’s bloody past,” she said. “And Scotland’s.”
Added to the English weapons were those from Scotland: enough Highland dirks, cudgels, two-handed claymores, and basket-hilted broadswords to outfit a good sized army.
“The majority of Fairfax men were not of a warring mentality, your husband excluded.”
Had she heard correctly?
She glanced at him.
“Your husband fought in the American Civil War. Did you know, Lady Fairfax?”
She nodded.
“Quite a brave man. Decorated for it.”
“Why do you sound so disapproving, Mr. Kerr? Surely courage is a virtue?”
“He killed a number of men, I understand.”
“Have Fairfax men never killed, Mr. Kerr? Not in defense of their land or their freedom?”
“The 11th Lord Fairfax is a borrowed Scot, Your Ladyship,” he said, the words tinged with something she couldn’t quite name. Bitterness? Envy?
“I must leave you,” she said, pretending a cordiality she didn’t feel. Two years of living with Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Lilly had prepared her well for the sin of prevarication. “With my apologies for having disturbed you.”
“It is no bother, Your Ladyship,” he said, waiting until she reached the doorway before sitting once more. “If you need anything of me, you need only send your maid.”
She studied him for a moment.
“Why are all those wagons arriving?” she asked.
“I imagine they’re the purchases your husband made in London, Lady Fairfax.”
She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more.
Finally, she left him, found the housekeeper, and arranged for a time to meet with the seamstress and her assistants. In addition, she and Mrs. Brody decided on an hour each day to meet to discuss those items that required her decision.
Thank heavens Aunt Lilly made her trail behind her most days to be of assistance.
At least she knew what was required to keep a large household functioning.
Although the townhouse in London could easily fit into Doncaster Hall a dozen times, the principle was the same.
Procure, prepare, and preserve food, ensure that the servants knew how to, and were, performing their chores, and ensure that all who lived at Doncaster Hall had their needs met and were healthy.
Duties she would have to grow into, she suspected. If they were to remain in Scotland.
Inside the distillery, the bricks were blackened from decades of wood fires boiling under copper kettles.
The air was strangely sweet, as if the aroma of whiskey still wafted through the building.
Once, there might have been boards beneath Montgomery’s feet, but only packed earth remained.
The roof, supported by several brick pillars, possessed a half dozen holes, allowing shafts of sunlight to illuminate the space.
He strode out of the distillery, in search of Ralston. The older man was directing the uncrating of the bolts of silk he’d purchased in London.
“Are there any carpenters at Doncaster Hall?” he asked.
Ralston nodded. “We’ve got two lads who can build anything, Your Lordship.”
“Then I’ll keep them busy for the next couple of weeks. I need at least six worktables. First, the roof needs repair.”
Ralston looked up. “That it does, Your Lordship. When we stopped making whiskey, there was no other use for the building.”