Chapter 6 The Tour
THE TOUR
I swam out of sleep the next morning to what appeared to be another dreary day in England and the understanding my slumbering self was the entertainment of a green-eyed Persian.
Snowball was sitting beside me, regarding me condescendingly.
“You’re a bed hog,” I accused.
And she was.
No matter where I turned last night, there she was, sprawled out and purring so that eventually I had the edge of the king-size bed, and she had the rest of it.
As response to my accusation, she licked her paw and cleaned her ear with it.
“Ugh,” I groaned, falling to my back then turning my head to see the smart screen told me it was seven fifteen.
Last night, Prudence showed me where breakfast was served (another dining room in the north wing, this one smaller, less formal, with a gleaming round table and a sideboard set up with fancy silver chafing dishes).
She’d also told me I could order a tray to be brought up to my room or come down whenever I wanted. The staff kept the chafing dishes full from seven to nine thirty, but I could order anytime.
I had plenty of time to make breakfast downstairs, but I wasn’t going to take it.
I was getting the tour, including discovering what the aristocracy considered junk, and I was finally going to be able to lay my eyes on all the documents Prudence had been able to unearth for me.
And no, this wasn’t about maybe catching Battle at breakfast.
It definitely was not.
(Okay, it was, but I didn’t want it to be.)
Last night I’d learned he might be arrogant, and a player, with broad hints of dick, but he was also a devoted older brother.
He didn’t say much, but outside of curtailing Temperance’s character assassination of Ravenna, he not only gave them all the space to be who they were, the way he did it encouraged that same thing.
So…yeah.
I had no idea what he was playing at with me.
But he was a super cool brother, as much as I didn’t want to admit it.
On this thought, I turned back to Snowball.
“Should we face the day?” I asked.
As answer, she gracefully leapt over me, as well as the side of the bed, and I watched her fluffy butt with lifted-high floofy tail saunter toward the bathroom.
I smiled, tossed the covers back and muttered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Thus, I swung out of bed and followed Snowball.
* * *
Thankfully, I’d learned the lesson a long time ago that I endeavored to teach Prudence last night.
Therefore, when I arrived at the breakfast table, I was wearing a pair of wide-legged, cropped white jeans, a slouchy, soft beige sweater French tucked, and a pair of peanut suede booties with a stacked block heel and pointed toe that had a slight Western flair in the panel stitching.
Yes, I looked like a well-heeled American (or at least I thought that was the look I was pulling off), because I was one.
Battle, fortunately (unfortunately?), was not at the breakfast table.
No one was.
But Prudence.
And God, I loved this chick.
Today she was wearing a black turtleneck that had the addition of a collar coming out of it that rose up over her ears giving her a petite female Count Dracula look.
That was all I could see since she was seated, but it was enough to absolutely adore it…and her for wearing it.
“Good morning,” I greeted while entering.
“Vivi!” she cried. “How did you sleep?”
“Snowball hogged the bed,” I told her as I sat next to her and reached for the ornate silver coffee pot.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Do I need to lock her up? I don’t usually lock up my babies. They don’t like it. But you need to sleep.”
This made me pause in pouring, because, when I returned to my room last night, I’d closed my door.
I resumed pouring as I asked, “I closed my door, how did she get in?”
Prudence made a puh noise. “It drives Battie…well, batty.” She laughed. “But they’ve learned to open the doors. You have to lock them to keep them out. Though, if she wants to get to you, be sure to lock the door to the hallway in your dressing room too.”
“I don’t mind her joining me,” I said, putting the coffee down and reaching for the jug of creamer. Once I poured, I turned to her. “Do I get to meet the others?”
Her eyes lit with excitement. “You like animals?”
“Love them.”
“Then…absolutely,” she answered and waved a hand at the sideboard. “Oh, and just grab a plate and help yourself.”
I got up, querying, “Has everyone already come down?”
“Temperance, no. She sleeps until at least nine. Chastity, also no, she took a tray in her bedroom. And Battle, again no, he had his breakfast in the study. He has some computer meetings this morning. He’s not usually here during the week, and he works a lot, so we probably won’t see him until dinner. ”
I was peeking under lids, but what she said made me stop and turn to her.
“He’s not normally here during the week?”
And no, I didn’t ask this because I was interested in all things Battle Talyn.
(But yes, I absolutely did.)
She shook her head. “No. He’s at our house in Knightsbridge. His office is in London. He usually leaves early Monday morning and returns Friday evening.”
“Every weekend he comes home?”
She nodded.
I grinned at her. “So he’s here on a Wednesday to make certain the American stranger you invited to the house doesn’t steal the Burleigh jewels.”
She returned my grin, but asserted, “Don’t be offended, Vivi. It’s not like we don’t ever have visitors, or guests who stay over. Temperance has a lot of friends. So does Battle. We have house parties. We entertain all the time.”
I noted she didn’t include her and Chastity in having “lots of friends.”
She continued, “It’s just that, to him, you were an unknown, and no matter how stridently I vouched for you, as you’ve learned, he’s protective.”
I’d sure learned that.
“I would be too if this was my legacy and I had three younger sisters,” I replied.
Though they were younger, they weren’t young.
One thing I knew about Prudence, because she told me, was that she was around my age, thirty-one (I was thirty-two). But in my research, I learned Chasitity was twenty-eight, Temperance was thirty-three, and Battle was thirty-six.
I went back to the chafing dishes, because under one was English sausage, bacon, and black pudding, and I’d vowed to myself I was going to stuff as much of that in my face as I could while I was in the country. And for the four days I’d been there, I’d succeeded in besting this challenge.
I wasn’t about to fall down now.
After I filled my plate, I returned to my seat, seeing Prudence had a coffee cup aloft and was staring blankly across the room.
I didn’t know whether to leave her to her thoughts or ask after them.
When in doubt with a plate of food in front of you…
I started eating.
It was the right choice.
Prudence jolted and then said, “Sorry. Miles away. Thinking about the attics and hoping we find Aunt Harmony’s letters from Charlie there.”
“Were you able to find a journal of hers?” I asked before taking a bite of sausage.
Oh yes.
Yum.
“No. Though, we did find Marie’s. And Harmony’s sister, Unity’s.”
That made my heart skip a beat, because Marie was Saint’s wife and Harmony’s mother.
“Really?”
She smiled thinly at me. “Just to warn you, I had a quick scan, and Marie didn’t say much of anything, ever.
Just a few lines in each entry, mostly about household things, meals they had, etc.
And I don’t think Harmony shared her love affair with her sister.
Then again, Unity was much younger. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen at the time.
Probably not a planned pregnancy. So also probably not a confidante. ”
“Well, I’ll have a good look to make sure.”
“Of course.” Her smile grew without bad news to impart. “It must be terribly exciting to embark on a new book.”
“Best feeling ever.”
“I’m so excited to be a part of it, even a small one.”
“I love that we get to share this too,” I agreed genuinely. “So I’m going to eat up so we can get started.”
Prudence watched me cut off another bite of sausage and said, “I’m just going to get one more sausage.”
I didn’t blame her.
In fact, I thought that was the perfect plan.
* * *
We started below stairs, an area of an estate like this I always found just as fascinating as what sat on top of it.
And at The Downs, it was no different.
There was the vast kitchen (modernized, but it still had the bones of antiquity to it).
The buttery, pantries, a comfortable staff lounge, and Prudence unlocked the storage rooms to show me where they kept their crystal, china, silver and booze safe.
There was also a laundry area, and a massive linen cupboard we spent some time in because, call me a freak, I found all the tablecloths, runners, sheets, coverlets, quilts and throws fascinating.
Fitzgibbons had an office down there, as did Patsy, the housekeeper, who was also Fitzgibbons’s wife.
Those two were the only live-ins, and Prudence shared that Battle had completely renovated what used to be the servants’ quarters so they had a rather large apartment (an area, obviously, Prudence didn’t show me) that not only had its own entrance off the north side of the house, but also a private terrace and garden.
This space was needed, apparently because, Prudence told me, they had three kids, two of whom lived in the village, all of whom were married, had children and came calling frequently.
The staff included Cook, a woman Prudence’s and my age whose name was actually Emily, who I met during the tour.
I also met Amelia and reacquainted with Mary, both maids, and Scotty and Harry, who lugged, served, ran errands and did handyman work, but I got the impression they were also there to provide security.
Don’t ask me why I had this impression, maybe it was because they were both tall, fit, alert, and just gave off that vibe.
And last, the lawns and parkland were overseen by a gardener, but Prudence informed me that Chastity did all the gardening, not only in the gardens, but also the greenhouse.