‘Oh, that would never do.’ Jago grinned down at her. ‘Bennett would be mortified.’ She looked up at him. There was a lightness about him that had been entirely missing in Dartmouth. Clearly, Jago Carlyon was overjoyed to be home.
When the old butler finally reached within six feet, Jago finally stepped forward. ‘Bennett,’ he yelled abruptly, making them all jump.
‘It’s good to see you, Sir.’ The elderly butler gave a broad smile revealing a mouth suspiciously empty of teeth. Shuffling forward, the old man held out rheumy hands, which Jago took with obvious affection.
‘Master Jago,’ came an agitated voice from the doorway, ‘Why didn’t you warn us you were returning home?’ A woman of middle years picked up her skirt and hurried towards them, yelling, ‘Sam, bring the chair for Bennett.’
There was a slight commotion in the doorway as two young men, evidently footmen, came running out carrying a large Bath chair between them.
‘Mrs. Penna,’ Jago smiled, relinquishing the elderly retainer.
‘You look terrible,’ was her only response, before she turned her attention to the butler. ‘How many times have I told you not to answer the front door, Mr Bennett?’ she scolded, helping him into the chair. ‘Take him round to the kitchen and put some brandy in his tea,’ she instructed one of the footmen before finally turning back with a sigh and opening her mouth to speak.
Before she had the chance, Jago hurriedly stepped in. ‘As you can see, Mrs. Penna, I have brought guests.’ He stepped back as he introduced them. ‘This, as you’ve probably ascertained, is our housekeeper, Mrs. Penna. She’s our rock,’ he finished simply.
‘Don’t think to charm me with your nonsense,’ she answered caustically. ‘When was the last time you ate?’ Her sweeping glance made it clear she was referring to all of them.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Jago grinned. ‘Lead on Mrs. Penna, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’
‘Yes, well, I’ll see to the young lady first,’ she sniffed. ‘Come with me, my dear, you look frozen to the bone.’ Eccentric though the housekeeper appeared, Charity followed her willingly, knowing that if she didn’t sit down soon, she could well end up in a heap on the cobbles.
‘Take the hound to the stables,’ Mrs. Penna ordered the remaining footman as she started towards the house.
‘Certainly not,’ Reverend Shackleford retorted. ‘If Freddy is relegated to the stables, then Percy and I shall accompany him.’ To be fair, the curate did offer a hesitant nod in agreement.
‘Oh no,’ Charity interrupted hastily. ‘Freddy is part of our family. We couldn’t possibly consign him to the stables.’ She looked back at Jago.
‘He is extremely well-behaved,’ Jago lied obligingly, causing Charity to wince.
Mrs Penna pursed her lips but didn’t argue, though she did mutter, ‘Dogs in the house, whatever next,’ as she resumed her march to the front door. The foxhound trotted alongsideher, the very model of good behaviour. Sometimes Charity was convinced he could understand every word.
The entrance hall was very grand indeed, and Charity couldn’t help gazing admiringly at the large glass dome built into the roof high above the staircase. ‘My grandfather commissioned this house,’ Jago explained, ‘and as you can see, he had very grand ideas about how a gentleman should live, even though he was far from one himself.’
The glass dome ensured the large square hall was both light and airy in complete contrast to the outside. Ostentatious it might be, but Charity couldn’t help but admire such vision.
‘Do you wish to eat in the family dining room?’ Mrs. Penna asked.
Jago nodded. ‘If you see to some breakfast, I’ll see to our guests.’
He led them to the right of the stairs, into a long windowless passageway. With only a few candles, it was exactly as Charity had imagined when looking at the exterior of the house. Dark, gloomy, and very spartan.
‘As I mentioned before, my father does not believe in spending money purely to prevent accidents,’ Jago murmured, guiding them carefully down the dimly lit corridor. A few minutes later, he threw open a door. Light flooded into the hallway as they stepped into a small, intimate,delightfulroom with a huge fire burning in the hearth. ‘He does, however, dislike the cold intensely,’ Jago added drily.
An hour later, the Reverend sighed and leaned back, entirely replete after polishing off a plate of bacon and eggs, toast and tea. ‘That was most welcome,’ he breathed, patting his stomach.
Charity popped a last piece of toast into her mouth and finished her tea. The roaring fire made the room delightfully cosy, and in truth, she could have curled up in one of the armchairs and fallen asleep. Freddy was already snoring in front of the hearth after finishing his share of the bacon.
Putting down her napkin, Charity wondered what they were expected to do next. Jago had excused himself almost as soon as he’d brought them to the dining room, presumably to visit with his father, and they hadn’t yet been shown to any bedchambers.
‘Where the deuce is everybody?’ the Reverend questioned, after another ten minutes had passed. ‘I’m done to a cow’s thumb.’
‘Mayhap they are still making up our beds,’ speculated Charity. ‘Mrs. Penna at least had no idea we were coming.’
‘I think our arrival was a complete surprise to the whole deuced household,’ her father agreed, going one step further. I hope the Master of the house is not one for throwing unwelcome guests out. I don’t think my old bones would survive another night outside.’
‘Don’t be absurd, Father,’ Charity snorted. ‘This house is big enough to house twenty guests without them even bumping into each other. There must be a host of servants running it.’
‘Then where are they all?’ Reverend Shackleford questioned. ‘And why is it so quiet?’ He peered down at his pocket watch and added, ‘Jago disappeared nearly an hour and a half ago.’
