Chapter Eighteen #2
He shook his head this time. “I have to show you. It can’t be described.”
“Very well, lead the way,” she replied.
Locking the storage room, Arthur led his wife down a flight of stairs and back into the main living section of the house. He took her past his study and continued down another corridor at the beginning of another wing. It was not as warm, meaning this area wasn’t used all the time.
Finally, he stopped in front of a locked door.
Pulling a key out of his pocket, he opened the door and stepped inside, taking Daphne by the hand and leading her in.
Inside the room, time stood still. An easel with a half-finished landscape sat untouched.
Canvases with finished and unfinished work lined both the floor and tables.
“What is this place?” Daphne asked lowly as she looked over a canvas lying on a table.
“This was my mother’s studio. She used to come here to paint. After her and my father’s deaths, I decided to keep it as she left it. She was quite good, don’t you think?”
“Extraordinary talent. Is Roxanne aware of this room?”
He shook his head as he walked over to a table which held brushes and paints. “No, not to my knowledge. If she does know of it, she’s never mentioned it. This would have been something the two of us would have shared since we shared most everything.”
“Perhaps it’s time to share it with your sister.”
“You’re right, of course. She might want some of the paintings.”
“Don’t you want some of her paintings?” Daphne asked as she looked through a stack of canvases stood in a pile against a wall.
“At some point, yes. For now, I’m content with preserving her workspace.”
“The hurt is still too fresh in your mind.”
“Yes.”
He knew it was time to move on. Spending too much time in his mother’s sanctuary made him melancholy and he didn’t need to subject himself to the memories.
Someday they wouldn’t be so fresh and hurt so much.
There had been nothing normal after learning of his parents’ untimely deaths so far from home.
A thousand thoughts came whirling into his mind all at once.
Things he’d gone over and over in his mind.
He often wondered what went through their minds when they realized what was about to happen.
Did they even know or were they caught off guard and never saw anything coming?
Being surprised would have been the kinder of the two scenarios. Neither would have had time to think.
He realized Daphne was watching him closely. It was time to put on the mask and return to the present. He took her hand. “Come, why don’t I show you the nursery. I’m sure we’re going to fill it with beautiful babies soon, and I imagine you might like to freshen it up.”
“You’re full of surprises today, Arthur.”
“Would you like to see it?”
She nodded with a sweet grin. “Of course I would.” Daphne had found it on her own but wouldn’t dare hurt Arthur’s feelings by letting him think she’d already been to check the nursery out.
Walking arm and arm, Arthur would occasionally stop and comment on a painting or historical fact related to the home. He wondered as he repeated a story to his wife what generations before him would think of the world today and how the ancestral home had been maintained as close to original.
Before they came close to the stairs leading to the nursery, a red flash raced in front of them.
Roddy was not slowing for anyone, not even the footman chasing him.
Arthur wondered what the setter had done this time since it was obvious by his full mouth that he’d stolen something from the kitchens. Life was never dull with Roddy and Sam.
“He’s stolen a roast chicken!” the young man said breathlessly as he ran past them.
“Get it from him! He’ll be sick if he eats all of it,” Arthur said in response.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Daphne looked up at him. “Maybe it’s time to banish him from the kitchens.”
“Almost impossible to do as that’s where he stays when he comes in from being outside and is muddy and wet. This doesn’t happen often with him.”
“He’s like a naughty child,” she replied.
“As is Sam.”
“Yes, and speaking of Sam, we should really go check on him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
She shook her head and smiled at him. “That’s Sam we’re talking about.”
“You’re right. Let’s go see what sort of mischief he’s gotten himself into,” he replied. Taking her hand, he led her down a corridor. They walked until familiar things surrounded them.
Arthur opened the door to the small drawing room Sam was occupying. The macaw was nowhere in sight but was heard before he was seen. Cursing as usual.
“Bloody hell! Help Sam.”
Daphne approached the bird first, lowering herself to his level. “What’s the problem, Sam?”
“Sam here. Food there.”
Somehow the ladder leading from Sam’s cage and perch had fallen to the floor and he couldn’t get to his food and water. Arthur, seeing the problem, walked over and picked up the wood ladder and placed it securely where it was meant to be.
“There you go, Sam.”
“Sam happy,” he replied.
“Sam, how did the ladder end up on the floor?” Daphne asked.
The parrot said nothing but sat halfway up on the ladder before stopping to preen himself. Making noises in his throat, Sam continued his journey up the ladder.
“Sam! How did the ladder fall to the floor? Did you push it?”
It took a few moments but finally Sam spoke. “Sam ladder fell when Sam walking down.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said.
“I think he tried to move it and it fell,” Daphne replied.
Arthur approached and studied the ladder and cage. “Do you think he wanted on this table?”
“Getting the ladder to connect to the table would mean he could wander on the furniture more freely.”
Sam finally started his journey up the ladder to his cage. He climbed onto the top where there were feeding bowls and a bowl of water and began eating.
Daphne and Arthur stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Arthur spoke. “Perhaps the ladder should be fixed to the cage so he can’t do this again. Something we can move, but he can’t.”
“It would keep him out of some mischief. He could still climb down to the floor, but not the furniture.”
“I’ll see it’s done,” Arthur replied.
“Let’s hope it helps.”
Arthur chuckled. “With Sam? Who knows? He’s smarter than most children.”
“He is. I just wish he wouldn’t curse so much.”
“His vocabulary in that department could be a lot worse, you know.”
She sighed. “I know.” In a moment, Daphne began to uncontrollably laugh.
Arthur couldn’t figure out what was so funny, but his wife had decidedly found something quite humorous. “Do you wish to share what is so funny?”
Saying nothing, Daphne continued to laugh. Finally, her laughter slowed enough to where she could answer his question or try to.
“We have a chicken thieving dog, a parrot that could make a sailor blush with his language. Can you imagine what it might be like with children? Chaos will ensue unless the children are kept in the nursery with a nanny.”
“Our children will never be hidden away in the nursery,” he replied.
“No, they won’t. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to write a missive to Roxanne inviting her and Graham to dinner tomorrow evening, if you agree with that.”
“Most certainly.”
“I’ll go see about letting Cook know and see what we can come up with.”
“I’m sure whatever you and Cook agree upon will be wonderful.”
She smiled at him and walked out the door. Making sure Roxanne received her invitation was priority. She didn’t expect anything outside of a positive reply.
After Daphne left, Arthur went in search of Roddy to see if the footman was able to catch the setter and the chicken he stole from the kitchen.
No, life would never be dull, that was for sure.
The peal of children’s laughter would resonate through the halls in a few years.
Though he and Daphne hadn’t sat down and had much of a talk about a family, it was assumed by him she wanted children as much as he did.
It wasn’t like they had been preventing it from happening.
For him, an heir would be most important, but they would fill the house with babies.
And it wouldn’t matter where each child was in the birth order; they’d all be loved equally.
For months, since his parents had died, Arthur felt there was something missing in his life. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but somehow, he knew there was a missing link. Roxanne and he had had numerous discussions lately about it. Whatever it was, and that gnawed at him quite frequently.
He had been thinking of writing their aunt and uncle in Scotland and see if they knew something or could lead him and Roxanne in the right direction to whatever this was.
Or if there was nothing to his gut feelings, they could reassure both of them they were chasing something that didn’t exist. Right now, it wasn’t clear to him, but he would have his answer, no matter what it led to.
It occurred to him as he found both Roddy and the footman in the grand hall, that perhaps his father’s journals might hold a key to whatever was eating him.
Arthur had looked through one or two and it might happen the late duke wrote about it along with other personal thoughts.
His father had been meticulously detailed in his lifetime and Arthur meant to find out by reading them in full.