Chapter Eighteen
Arthur paused at the drawing room door. After spending several hours locked away in his study attending to correspondence and estate matters, he hesitated upon hearing Sam behind the door. He was calling out to Daphne, who must not be in the room at the moment.
He slowly opened the door and found Sam on the floor walking around the room, hollering as he usually did for his mistress. “Mama! Mama!”
“I’m sure she’ll return in just a moment, Sam.” Here he was, talking to a parrot again.
That didn’t comfort the bird at all as he continued calling out for Daphne. Arthur was just about to go in search of his wife when the door opened and in she walked.
“Sam, are you being bad again?” she scolded.
“Mama! Sam happy!”
“I’m glad. Now up on top of your cage.”
Arthur watched in amazement as the bird actually did as told. He noticed a pile of books a decorator from London had left weeks prior. “You’ve scheduled the decorator to come?”
“Oh, those? I’m returning them.”
“You’re not happy with him?”
“No,” she replied. “I’ve decided I want to live here for a full year before I make any major changes.”
He did a double take while looking at his wife. Not what he expected. He was sure that would be the first project she wanted to get started. “What brought this on?”
“I decided I needed to see the house through all four seasons before trying to undergo changes.”
“Very well, but remember you’re allowed to change your mind.”
She arched a brow. “Thank you, but I won’t,” she replied.
“As you wish.”
“I’ve penned a note to have the plates and books returned to London. They’ll all change by the time I’m ready for them. There’s no reason for me holding on to them.”
“True.”
She sat down in a crème-colored damask chair near the fire. “I gather you’ve gotten everything caught up?”
“I have. I’m going to meet with my estate manager tomorrow,” he replied.
“Too bad it’s such a horrid day. I would have suggested a ride.”
He cocked his head as though in deep thought. “I could show you through the house. I know you haven’t had the opportunity to see it all.”
“No, no, I haven’t, and I’d love to see more of it. I’m sure there are a lot of rooms rarely used.”
“There are. A lot of guest rooms and a lot of family bed chambers are going unused. That’s the case in every estate, I’m sure,” he replied.
“I assume these unused rooms are not kept heated when not in use?”
“No, they’re not.”
“I’m ready if you are,” she said.
“Let’s go.”
She arched a brow. “I would like to see the attics as well.”
“Any particular reason why?” he asked.
“There could be something up there that could be used elsewhere in the house. My mother taught me that.”
His curiosity was piqued. “How’s that?”
“She said things go out of style and we shove them away only for them to come back into vogue later.”
“I’ve never thought of it from that perspective.”
He took her hand and led her out of the drawing room, much to Sam’s disapproval.
Ignoring the bird, the pair began to make their way to the grand staircase.
They’d start on the main family level. He was sure she’d been to most of the rooms since her arrival.
Arthur tried to make their walk interesting by pointing out the history of the house.
She asked lots of questions, things most young ladies wouldn’t dream of.
Finally, he led her up to a staircase which was narrower but still used by staff and himself.
It led to the attics. Once at the top, they almost immediately found themselves in a hallway.
On either side were two large rooms, locked away from intruders.
At the far end of the hall was another door, locked.
“Where does that go?” she asked, gesturing to the end of the hall.
“Staff rooms are on the other side.”
He found a key hidden out of sight and unlocked one of the two storage rooms. The first thing Arthur noticed was the amount of dust gathered on everything.
In spite of this, Daphne entered and began to look around.
Trunks, old portraits, and landscapes stood against walls.
A broken chair, probably waiting to be repaired, lay on its side.
Decades of things discarded were relegated to these rooms. Within these walls and the walls of the second set of storage rooms was family history. His family history.
A lot of what they were seeing, he didn’t remember.
Not something he would as a child unless it specifically had something to do with him.
There was an old rocking horse he recognized as his.
He’d broken it by being far too rough with the toy and his father reprimanded him by making him help the footmen carry it to the attic, never to be seen again.
It was funny, how of all his childhood memories of this house, that one incident was what he recalled.
“Have you found anything to your liking?” he asked his bride.
“Not really. Most all of what’s here is broken and in need of some sort of repair.”
“I think you’ll have better luck in the room across the hall.”
“I’m not done here,” she replied. “Does anything here remind you of a time long ago?”
“Not really.”
“What about the rocking horse? I saw you staring at it.”
“A mere toy I grew out of.”
Daphne drew closer. “One that holds meaning to you.”
“Yes. I can’t explain it. Sometimes I have this sense that there was more to situations when I was much younger. Like the rocking horse. Yes, I admit being rough with it, but I imagine most boys are. To me, there is more to that incident.”
“You can’t remember it?”
He shook his head. “No, I can’t.”
“Did you ever ask your father about it?”
“I did, but I was only told I had an active imagination.”
She stood on tip toe and kissed his cheek. “He could be right.”
“No, no. There was something more at play.”
“It’ll come to you. Trying to force memories sometimes triggers them to remain hidden.”
Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back. “How did I get so lucky to find such a smart and beautiful wife?”
She giggled. “We have the gray to thank for that.”
“Yes, we do,” he replied. He led her out of the attic room, across the hall to the next. This one contained more furniture, but the majority didn’t appear to be broken. In need of cleaning and polishing but nothing more.
Continuing to watch his wife inspect almost every piece of furniture, Arthur peered down at the floor to a small metal box that caught his attention.
He leaned over and began to pick it up when dozens of metal toy soldiers fell out.
Picking one up, he studied the small figure for several minutes.
The hours he spent as a boy, especially on days like today, playing mock battles and never losing.
Why did he feel as though he shared with someone?
Shared his soldiers. He had two different armies, so it made sense he shared one of them to play the greatest battles of all time.
But who? He carried the box with him for a few moments, setting it down on a nearby table as he tried to listen to Daphne as she inspected several tables.
“Find one you like?” he asked.
“Several, actually,” she replied. “Do you have someone who redoes or repairs furniture?”
“Yes, there are several craftsmen on the estate.” He noticed she was watching him curiously, then looked down and found himself holding one of the toy soldiers in his hand. “I found a box of them. I could spend hours playing with them on rainy days.”
“I think it’s a rite of passage for young boys. My brother had some as well. He was far too vocal when he got immersed in a make-believe battle. All sorts of yelling.”
“Boys aren’t meant to be quiet.”
She sighed. “No, they’re not. We girls were expected to be perfect little ladies and keep quiet.”
“I can hardly believe that,” he snorted. “Quiet and you don’t mix.”
“I’ll have you know I can be most stealthy when needed. I can go in and out of a room and never be seen nor heard,” she scoffed.
“Yes, you can.”
Watching her pick up an old doll and inspect it, he had an idea. “That’s probably one of Roxanne’s. I wonder if I should invite her over to look and see if she wants them.”
“What?”
“You know, she might want them for Mary.”
“Arthur, sweetheart, when it comes time to introduce Mary to dolls, Roxanne can more than afford new ones.”
“True, but it seems like a waste, them sitting up here,” he said.
“She might be able to use them for decorating Mary’s room at some point.”
He nodded. “I’ll let her know they’re here next time I see her.”
“We should have them over for dinner, especially after they gave us a ride home because of the broken wheel.”
It was true. They would have had to spend the night at a coaching inn with Sam if Roxanne and Graham hadn’t decided to take a meal at the inn.
Overnight with Sam would have proved interesting and difficult because the parrot needed to be kept warm.
He wasn’t meant to survive in colder temperatures, and if anything ever happened to Sam, his wife would be inconsolable.
“I concur. We should have them over soon.”
Daphne drew closer, intertwining her arm around his. The scent of her perfume was minimal, but it always reminded him of her. Every time he smelled vanilla with orange, his thoughts wandered to her. He leaned over and kissed the top of her blonde head.
“Is there anything else to look at here?” she asked quietly.
“Not unless there are specific pieces you want to move aside.”
Daintily, she shook her head. “There are, but I doubt anyone will bother them. Once I know exactly where I want them, I’ll accompany the men and show them what I want.”
“Why don’t I show you something else? Somewhere not a lot of people know about or have seen.”
She smiled at him demurely. “You’re sounding awfully mysterious, Your Grace.”
Arthur threw back his head and his rich baritone laugh echoed around the room. “I have to keep some mystery about me.”
“So tell me what this mystery is.”