Oddly fitting, however, considering its owner.
“It doesn’t look like something built in the fifteen hundreds,” she said, aiming for a neutral tone. Despite featuring two towers set on opposite ends of the structure, one section brought to mind ruins she’d visited with one of her governesses. Ruins that were crumbling, having been built in the eleventh century.
“That’s when most of it was renovated.” He sent her a rare teasing smile. “I think it may have been a prison at one time…”
“A prison?” She couldn’t keep her voice from rising a full octave. All those fears she’d dismissed came rushing back.
“Don’t look so worried.” He was laughing again, and Amelia barely resisted the urge to swat him. “I said I wasn’t going to lock you in a tower, remember?”
“Oh. I mean. I didn’t think—” And then she winced. “Was it really a prison?”
“For a few decades, or so they say.”
Shaking her head, Amelia stared anxiously outside as they approached the massive structure.
Massive and formidable.
“It may have been used as a fortress before that,” Mr. Beckworth added as the driver drew them to a halt.
Spurred into action, he didn’t wait for a servant to get the door for them, but pushed it open himself and hopped out, the same as he’d done every other time.
Accepting his hand for assistance, Amelia stepped down, tilting her head back. Depending upon where one looked, portions were anywhere between three and six stories high. White stones made up most of the façade, and one hall that seemed to tie it all together featured a sparse number of almost regimented windows. Cautious curiosity set in as Amelia followed.
Mr. Beckworth waited for her to catch up before marching them both toward the entrance.
Behind her, a few hearty-looking fellows were milling about, removing trunks from the back of the coach while others unfastened the horses. But there was no host or hostess, no butler standing at the top of the steps, no proper housekeeper to greet them officially.
There was not, in fact, a single woman in sight.What was this place?
“I thought you said we wouldn’t be alone,” she said. Hadn’t he? Or had she simply assumed there would be other women to act as chaperone?
Mr. Beckworth gestured toward his men. “What are they? Roosters?”
Amelia stumbled, not sure if she should feel betrayed or amused. Luckily, she was saved from having to decide on either when the front door opened and an older looking couple stepped outside.
Although the stout, bald man wasn’t dressed like a butler, he had all the demeanor and attitude of one—territorial and a little judgmental. The woman, wearing a white apron over a graydress, was obviously the housekeeper. Her eyes danced and her smile was wide. Both appeared somewhere around the age of fifty, but Amelia couldn’t be sure.
Regardless, seeing at least one woman amongst the sea of men sent relief fluttering from Amelia’s head down to her toes.
Although they must have noticed Amelia, their focus was on Mr. Beckworth.
“Welcome home, Boss,” the woman said.
The butlerish man kept his hands behind his back. “Boss,” he grunted with a nod.
“Bessie, Stubbs,” Mr. Beckworth gestured towards Amelia. “This is the guest Fitz will have told you about. Lady Amelia.”
Mr. Stubbs dipped his chin, but Mrs.… erm—Bessie—turned that wide smile to Amelia. “Welcome, my lady. We’ve a chamber all made up for you. I suppose Miles is fetching your trunk.”
“This is all I have.” Amelia held up her satchel. Sally had provided it for Amelia to carry the various items provided for her at The Goat’s Tail.
Without another word, Mr. Stubbs disappeared inside again while Bessie pivoted back to her employer. “Fitz is in your office—going over the letters that arrived at sunup. Said you’d be interested. And since you’ll be busy, I’ll take ‘er ladyship upstairs.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Mr. Beckworth turned to take his leave, but then stopped. “Which room?”
“The nicest one.” The housekeeper smiled. “Except for yours, I suppose.”
Mr. Beckworth frowned, all business again. “Right, then. Well done.” He flicked a distracted glance back to Amelia. “If you’ve a need, ask Bessie or anyone else on my team.” His brows furrowed. “Or me.”
