Four bright-eyed children, one in her mother’s arms, came to receive their silver threepenny bits and say their thank-yous.
Kitty was impressed by her husband’s thoughtfulness, but was any part of him not calculated with a cool head? How did that work in the marriage bed? She supposed some women discussed such matters among themselves, but she’d never had that sort of female friend. Except Ruth, of course, but there’d been few opportunities since Ruth had married, and none taken up.
They continued on through the gates toward the house. “Abbey” had made Kitty think the place would be ancient and rambling, but the house before her was the complete opposite. Two regular rows of tall windows ran along the middle of the house. Those would be the principal rooms. A lower rank of smaller windows close to the ground must serve the kitchens and such. Tiny windows in the roof would be for servants’ bedrooms. There were no grand embellishments or crenellations.
She’d prepared to become mistress of ancient, slightly crumbling Beauchamp Abbey, but how was she to rule this austere place?
As they continued forward, she looked to one side and the other. Beyond straight, leafless trees, deer of some kind cropped smooth grass that was set with the occasional pale statue of a Greek or Roman. A smooth lake held an island crowned with a small, white temple. The various trees, both solitary and clumped, seemed neatly arranged.
“Your thoughts?” he asked.
“It’s lovely,” she said, “but perhaps too perfect?”
“Everything should have a flaw?”
“I think so, or it would be intolerable.”
“I’m not sure I agree, but comfort yourself that there are any number of flaws in Beauchamp Abbey.”
Her unease was probably irrational or just wedding-day nerves, but his words stirred questions. “Has the history of the family here always been difficult?”
He glanced at her. “The house might be malign? An interesting speculation.”
“Not a ridiculous one?”
“I don’t believe in ghosts or evil spirits, but it’s not a happy place, and the recent family history hasn’t been blessed.”
“Digging further back will give me something to do in my idle hours.”
An elusive smile told her he’d caught the irony, but it didn’t unseal any mysteries, about the house or about him.
“If your father were alive he would have inherited this,” she said. “Would he have welcomed it more than you?”
“He’d have reveled in the title, but I can’t imagine him spending much time here. His life was London and government.”
“As is yours?”
“Not government any more than my title obliges. Did you not enjoy living in London?”
Kitty had to think about that. “I preferred it to Cateril Manor, but I’m not sure how much was place, how much circumstances.” They were close to the house now and she refused to be any more nervous than the situation called for. “I, too, don’t believe in ghosts and evil spirits.”
He drew up the curricle in front of straight white steps that led up to large double doors, again white. The doors opened to let out a parade of servants. The maids wore dark gray dresses and black aprons, and the footmen a livery of paler gray and silver braid along with black stockings and armbands.Is gray the regular livery or a special mourning one?
When Braydon’s brightly liveried groom hurried to the horses’ heads, he shone like a cheerful fire in a wintry scene.
Kitty was glad to see Henry Oldswick there in her apronless dark blue. The sour-faced, black-clad man beside her was probably Braydon’s valet. Did he not approve of his master’s bride? Henry smiled, but every other face was blank or hostile. Kitty wondered if the same expressions showed when a conquering army entered a defeated city.She would conquer, but she would be a kindly conqueror, if allowed.
Braydon came to hand her down. Once on the ground Kitty lifted Sillikin down, quietly commanding her to heel. The dog obeyed, but how would that go in hostile territory? Sillikin was venturesome, and in the parsonage she’d soon made friends with all. Kitty couldn’t let her wander here until she was sure it was safe.
Braydon led her toward the dozen or so servants, but she noticed one dripping nose and that none of the women wore gloves. Here was a chance to make a point. She spoke loudly enough to be heard by all. “We can’t have our people out in this cold, Dauntry. Go in,” she said to the servants. “Go in!”
After a startled moment, they hurried inside. Kitty and Braydon followed, and the door closed behind.
First step complete.
Kitty surveyed a large, pale hall that reached the full height of the house to a glass cupola that let in the cool November light. The floor was white marble, as was the wide central staircase in front of her. White marble pillars to left and right supported galleries above, and there were more pale pillars up there supporting the floor above. Doors and woodwork were also white. There was some color in the walls, but that was a pale and particularly cool shade of blue.
Kitty saw what Ruth had meant by “chilly.” Sillikin was keeping close to her side, which was an interesting sign.
