A portly middle-aged woman stood at the base of the stairs, and she curtsied when they walked in. “This is Mrs. Blair, the housekeeper,” Colin introduced.
Mrs. Blair’s smile was restrained. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”
“There is no butler,” Colin said. “It was not necessary because no one has lived here in almost two decades, but one will be employed once the repairs are done.”
Anna nodded, raising her eyes to observe the old wooden ceiling. Edinfield was the opposite of Dawnton, and despite knowing it will not always look like this, she felt nervous about staying here. Besides, it was such a long way from Hertfordshire.
I have time to convince him,she told herself as they walked into a sitting room with worn brown and cream furnishings. “When was the manor built?” she asked.
“A little more than a century ago. It has seen little redecoration since it was built.” Colin encouraged her to sit in a chair. “My mother had some rooms changed to suit her taste.” This was one of the few times he had spoken about his mother. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.” She was not. The manor’s spirit—if such things had a spirit—discomfited her.
“Good. I have to meet the steward and Frobisher.” The solicitor had made the trip last month but Colin had requested for him to return. “Mrs. Blair will bring you some tea.” He kissed her hand. “I shall see you later.”
Anna watched him stride out of the room, and she took a deep breath and looked around. Her eyes found the late Duchess’ portrait on a wall between two windows. She supposed this manor, too, had many portraits of her and none of Colin’s father. She stood there, looking at it for a while.
“Would you like to see your chambers now, Your Grace?” Mason asked from the door, and Anna turned.
“Yes. Where is Nips?”
“He is in your chambers. I did not want to let him out anywhere else. He could get lost, or worse.”
“That is good.” Anna followed Mason out into the foyer, then up stairs that were against the wall and went up in a spiral. At the top of the stairs, she looked down at the foyer, and vertigo washed over her. It was a long way down.
She clutched the railing to steady herself before turning quickly and following Mason.
Her chambers were surprisingly bright and warm. The features were old and worn, and the pale blue walls must have once been calming. “Where is the Duke’s chamber?” she asked Mason.
“Mr. Bishop informed me that His Grace will be staying here, too.” Anna sighed with relief. She did not want to be alone, especially here.
The following day, Anna spent her morning by herself in the sitting room. She was not as apprehensive of the manor as she had been the day before, and Colin had reassured her that she would grow fond of it in time.
With nothing to do, she decided to finally write to her mother. She should have written when she told Catherine she would, but she needed more time. She still did not know what reestablishing correspondence would yield, and she would never know until she wrote and received a response.
Thus, she sat at the escritoire and drew up a parchment.
Dear Mother,
It has been a while, and this is a poor statement to begin a letter with. Perhaps I do not know what to say. I have received and read all of your missives, and I appreciate that you continued to write to me even though I remained silent.
I am sure you understand my reason. It is not easy to forget, but I am willing. I would like to make peace with you. After all, you are my mother, and you have shown great remorse.
I am presently in Northumberland in one of the Duke’s estates, and I will remain there for up to three weeks. May I suggest you send your reply to Hertfordshire so I do not miss it?
I am well, and I hope you and Father are, too.
Sincerely,
Annelise Maxwood.
She went over the letter before sealing it and placing it atop a stack of letters that Colin had left on the desk to be mailed. She was thinking of what to do next when a knock sounded and Mason announced herself. Anna called for her to enter, and she walked in with some tea.
“I heard something that might interest you, Your Grace,” she said, setting the tray down on a small side table.
“What is it?”
“There is an end-of-summer festival taking place in the village five miles from here.”
