Chapter 7 #2
The interior was dark. The first thing she did was pull back the nearest curtains, the light revealing the wooden floors and wooden furniture, simple and with minimal carving.
Everything gleamed. Mr. Granger had said he would arrange for a local woman to clean the place and see to its readiness. It seemed he had been true to his word.
“Min, wait,” Kitty called and hurried to catch up. She paused at the threshold and withdrew a small twist of paper from her reticule. Pinching a bit of salt between her fingers, she then scattered it along the threshold and the sill of the nearest window.
“That will keep out what ought to stay out.” She grinned at Minerva. “New house, new beginnings. And no old troubles invited in.”
Hiding a smile, Minerva shook her head.
Kitty made a quick twirl, then ran up the stairs and after a moment called down, “Come up and see, Min.”
Minerva followed at a slower pace, letting her fingers come to know the feel of the wood banister, smooth and polished. Her cousin might have been in her dotage, but she had kept her home well. Minerva wondered if she had loved this place, if she had been happy here. She hoped so.
Upstairs, she found three bedrooms, two large, one small. The beds in the two larger ones had been made up with fresh sheets.
“I’d like the room that overlooks the rolling green behind the house, if it’s all the same to you, Min. I don’t want to look out at the ocean. Or the cliff,” Kitty said with a shiver. “The waves are too angry.”
Minerva smiled and said, “I like the sound of the waves.”
She wandered to the front bedroom, letting her fingers run across first the top of the tall looking glass in the corner then the surface of the mahogany armoire.
When she reached the washstand, she found water in the pitcher beside the basin.
She took a moment to wash her hands and face, refreshing herself after the long journey.
Crossing to the window, she stared out at the waves, feeling a strange longing tinged with both hope and sadness.
Without thought, she grasped the pendant that hung around her neck.
For an instant, her vision narrowed and she saw only the water, smooth as black glass with an icy sheen, the weight of the night pressing in on her.
The image lingered, as though reluctant to release her.
She blinked and it was day once more, not night, the water not smooth but choppy and cut with waves.
She took a slow breath in and blew it out even slower. Then she opened the window and leaned out, calling down to Thom as he set a trunk on the ground beside the two he had already unloaded. “You can bring the trunks up. Mine to this room and Miss Dorsey’s across the hall.”
He offered a wave of acknowledgement.
Then Minerva remembered Mr. Granger’s assertion that the locals thought Cliff Cottage was haunted. She leaned out once more and called down, “You don’t mind coming inside, Thom?”
He tipped his head back and looked up at her, his expression confused.
And then his confusion cleared and he said, “Sun’s still up,” as though that explained everything.
Minerva considered his words for a moment and decided that they did, indeed, provide explanation.
Thom would not be happy to come inside after dark.
There was the sound of rapid footsteps descending the stairs, followed by Kitty’s excited voice carrying up from below. “Min, come down and see!”
Minerva went down and followed the sounds of Kitty’s excited chatter along a narrow passage to the back of the house, finding a small bedroom to her right and the kitchen to her left.
There, she found Kitty poking her head into a closet that served as the pantry, the shelves lined with crockery and glassware, everything clean and in its place.
Next to that was a storage room, the shelves mostly bare of dry goods, though the cartload Thom had brought would soon fill them.
Opening a door on the north side of the kitchen, Minerva found a small stone larder with slate shelves and a tiny window at the back covered in a fine wire mesh instead of glass.
“That’ll keep the flies out,” Kitty said.
“We can only hope.” Minerva turned and studied the kitchen.
It was clean and tidy, the lower part of the walls painted mossy green, the upper part pale cream.
There were two wooden shelves upon which rested copper pots.
A large iron pot hung in the fireplace where wood had already been set for a fire.
In the wood box was a pile of split logs.
At the back of the kitchen, she discovered the scullery, where a deep sink stood against the wall.
“The house is wonderful,” Minerva said, her heart full.
“It is,” Kitty agreed.
“Shall I set these in the larder?” Thom asked, carrying a basket of eggs and a square of butter wrapped in linen cloth. “And the dry goods in the storage closet?”
“Yes, please,” Minerva said.
“My Ma sent some pasties for your supper. She thought you’d be hungry after your journey. Nothing tastier than a Cornish pasty.”
“What’s a Cornish pasty?” Kitty asked.
“Beef, potato, swede, and onion.”
“Swede?” Kitty said.
“Turnip.”
“Please express our appreciation to your mother, Thom. That was very kind of her,” Minerva said. “Was it your mother who came and prepared the cottage for us?”
Thom shook his head. “That was Nessa Teague.” His expression clouded. “Did she do a fair job?”
“She did a wonderful job,” Minerva said. “I wonder if she would welcome a steady arrangement.”
Thom’s boyish face lit up. “I know she would. Her Da has empty pockets and a heavy hand. It’s just her and him, and when he’s spent a few hours at the tavern—” He cleared his throat. “Beg your pardon, Miss. My tongue runs away from me sometimes.”
Minerva lifted her head to meet Kitty’s gaze. They needed no words exchanged to know that they were both thinking the same thing. “If you would be so kind as to ask Nessa to come by tomorrow morning, I would like to speak with her.”
“I’ll do that, Miss.” He headed back outside to bring in another load.