7. Chapter 7
Despite the late hour at which she had finally settled, it was a glorious sleep. Kitty had not rested so well since before her grandfather became sick. A feather bed and the luxury of lying in it undisturbed until breakfast was blissful.
The previous night’s worries disappeared with the dawn. Her life had taken an upward turn. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it?
There was every reason to be thankful. No cantankerous old lady to wait on. Her status much improved. No longer a servant but a lady’s companion. A respectable role for a gentlewoman. A definite improvement on being Mrs Barrington’s maid.
Kitty dressed herself and, having discovered that breakfast was not until nine, she made her way out into the garden. She wandered around for an hour, enjoying the pinks of the late summer roses and watching the boats out at sea. With a last glance at the water below, she returned to the house.
Mr Barrington stood as she entered the breakfast room. Some of the ice that had formed in her heart over the past fortnight melted. It warmed her on the inside to be treated like a lady again. Perhaps in time she would forget the dreadful interval in his mother’s household.
“I trust you slept well, Miss Lacey.”
“I did, thank you, sir. The bed is so much more comfortable than my last one.”
Mr Barrington glowered. “The less said about that, the better. And please, there is no need for us to stand on ceremony with each other. Address me as Hugh, and I will, if I may, call you Catherine.”
Kitty didn’t know how to refuse him permission.
Was it churlish of her to want to control who used her name?
He was only being kind, treating her as if she were part of his family.
And it would be preferable to being referred to as Lacey.
Calling him Hugh was more disturbing. It was far too intimate for her liking.
“Ah, Laura,” he said as his daughter entered the room. “I’m glad you were able to rouse yourself in time to join us.”
A faint colour suffused the young woman’s face.
Was there an implied criticism in his words?
She bussed her father’s cheek and bid them both a good morning before taking her place next to him.
The servants took this as their cue and filled the table with hot dishes—freshly made toast and eggs—to join the existing spread of muffins, bread rolls, ham, butter, and preserves.
“We partake of a simple breakfast here, but I hope there is something to your taste,” Hugh said to Kitty. “If you wish for anything different, just ask, and we will see what Mrs Williams can find.”
“Thank you.” What else could she say? She wouldn’t object to eating her way through the entire contents of the table if she could get away with it.
“What are your plans for today?” Hugh asked his daughter.
Laura kept her gaze on her plate as she said, in little more than a whisper, “I thought Kitty and I might go for a walk along the cliffs.”
“An admirable idea, but I am sure our guest would value a tour of the house and grounds first.”
“As you wish, Papa.”
“Excellent. I will leave you two ladies to your morning.”
As soon as he had left the room, Laura started chattering away as she had the day before, when Kitty had been packing her trunk.
Clearly, Hugh’s presence had a dampening effect on her loquacity.
His desire for a chaperon for his daughter was a sign of a caring, protective parent, but was he more than that?
Was he overbearing? It remained to be seen.
“We should begin our tour,” said Laura, jumping up from the table and leading the way into a magnificent chamber with wooden panels and a high, vaulted ceiling that was open to the beams holding up the roof.
“The most impressive room in the house is also the oldest. This is the Banqueting Hall and it dates from the reign of Henry VIII. The King and Queen visited in ’05 and took breakfast here with the Governor. ”
Laura gabbled through several more facts, as if she were a talking guidebook.
“Do you often show people around?”
“Only if Papa asks me to. Mrs Williams gives the regular visitors a tour of the main part of the house. Not the family rooms, of course.”
The dining room, the morning room and the saloon followed in quick succession. Laura pointed out anything worthy of note, but her lack of enthusiasm and the speed at which she rattled off the facts made Kitty feel more like a nuisance than a friend whom she was showing around her home.
“You’ve already seen the drawing room, which holds nothing of historical interest, but it’s quite pleasant to sit there to enjoy the view over the garden.”
The music room boasted an elegant Broadwood square pianoforte that Kitty would have liked to hear played, but before she could voice her request, Laura had rushed her on again.
“That’s Papa’s study,” she said, pointing at a closed door.
“We’d better not disturb him. I’m sure he will show you himself if you ask.
” She continued walking down the corridor.
“There’s not much to say about the breakfast parlour, though my father is proud of the Adam fireplace.
You can examine it later, if you wish. Shall we head upstairs? ”
As they reached the top of the main staircase, Laura drew Kitty’s attention to the balustrade in front of them. “Most of the rooms on this floor face outward, like yours, and are connected by a square of corridors that are open on one side.”
Peering over the balcony, Kitty could see down into the Banqueting Hall.
Turning away from the stairs, Laura opened a door in front of them. “This is my favourite place in the entire house—the Long Gallery.”
The room stretched the length of the building and was fitted with bookcases all down one side, and in between the floor to ceiling windows on the other. Opposite to where they stood was an alcove, which let in more light, and Kitty spotted a corresponding arrangement at the far end.
The shelves were filled with leather-bound volumes. So many books. What a magical place! Kitty longed to examine the titles, to see what treasures were awaiting her. “I am delighted to discover you enjoy reading as greatly as I do.”
Laura stared at her blankly. “Oh no. That’s not why I love this room. I used to play here with Mama when I was a child. It was wonderful to have so much space to run about in when it was raining.”
Not a great reader, then. A pity. It might have helped their friendship to have a mutual fondness for books.
“We still call it the Long Gallery when we talk about it to visitors, though it’s now the library. It is part of the original house, and I suppose it once displayed family portraits before a previous owner installed the bookcases.”
She glanced at the pocket watch attached to the chatelaine at her waist. “You may come and explore the books whenever you like, but if we are to have a walk today, we need to speed up this tour.”
What was the hurry? It was not even midday yet. They had the entire afternoon ahead of them.
Laura strode down the Long Gallery and exited at the far end, bringing them to a part of the house with which Kitty was already familiar. In front of them was the passageway on which her bedchamber was located.
“The rest of this floor is given over to bedrooms, most unused.” She turned down the corridor that ran alongside the Long Gallery and opened the first door. “This is mine.”
Kitty peeked inside. It was a delightful chamber, similar to her own, but without the lovely view out to the sea. Sunlight streamed through a glass dome in the ceiling, but the windows all looked out over the Banqueting Hall, not the outside. It was not what she would have chosen.
“There’s a small sitting room through that door,” Laura said, “and my father’s apartments are on the far side of it. Do you wish to see them?”
No, she did not. The prospect of entering Hugh’s private rooms made her cheeks heat. “I think I have seen quite enough bedchambers, thank you. They are, after all, much like each other.”
Her answer elicited a warm smile from Laura—the friendliest expression Kitty had observed all day. It was obvious the girl couldn’t wait to finish the tour.
“No need to go down the other corridors then, as it’s only more of the same, and as I’m sure you have no wish to see any more servants’ rooms, given your recent experience, we can skip the attics too.”
She glanced once more at the pocket watch hanging from her waist.
“Just time for a quick look at the kitchens and Mrs Williams’s room, and then we can explore outside.”
What was the hurry? There was no rush to go for a walk, as dinner was still hours away. Unless… Could Laura be planning to meet someone?
The kitchen was equipped with a modern oven and had an impressive range of copper pans on display. It was presided over by a cook who bobbed three curtseys in a row and then retreated to the stove. Not wishing to get in the way, they bid a hasty exit and moved on to the housekeeper’s room.
Mrs Williams welcomed them inside, but Kitty couldn’t banish the feeling they were intruding and was relieved when Laura hustled them out again after a brief look around.
They returned to the servants’ stair, beside which was a back door into the garden. Opposite was another set of steps, leading downward. Kitty paused and stared into the gloom.
“What’s down there?”
Laura grabbed her arm and moved toward the rear exit. “Just the cellars and the butler’s pantry. You don’t want to go down there. It’s cold and damp and altogether rather horrid.”
What an extreme reaction! As if the basement scared her. Had she got lost down there as a child? Then again, given how desperate she was not to delay their walk, maybe Laura was just trying to curtail their tour.
“Come on. Let’s go outside,” she said, pulling Kitty toward the door.
It seemed increasingly likely that her companion expected to meet someone. Was it her duty to prevent it? She hoped not, because she doubted she could, but she would have to keep her eyes open.