“Thank you. If you could give us each a candle to take upstairs, we’ll get to bed.” Turning to George, he said in an overly hearty tone that had George biting back a smile, “I daresay you’re as exhausted as I am, Asquith.”
“That I am,” George said, rising from the table. “It’s been a long day.”
While they retrieved their saddlebags, Mrs. Ford lit two chamber sticks. “Good night, sir,” she said, as she handed one of the chamber sticks to Theo. "And to you, Mr. Asquith.”
“Good night, ma’am,” George echoed, taking the second chamber stick from her with a polite nod.
He followed Theo through the low-ceilinged hallway of the old farmhouse and up a narrow winding staircase to the upper floor.
“Mrs. Ford’s rooms are off the kitchen downstairs,” Theo said as they climbed. When they reached the upper floor, he added, “There are four bedchambers up here, two on this side and two further down.” He pointed down the dark, narrow corridor.
“These are ours?” George asked, gesturing at the two worn wooden doors in front of them.
“Yes,” Theo said, opening one. “This one’s yours.” He stepped inside, holding the door open to allow George to pass. Theo’s candle sent a gentle circle of light out to tremblingly illuminate the room. As George moved past him, his own candle penetrated further into the shadows, revealing the bed—a good-sized four-poster with heavy curtains held back with twisted silk cords—and a substantial sideboard which took up much of one wall. A china ewer and basin sat atop it, a folded linen inside the bowl. On the opposite side of the room, on the shared wall, there was another door. Unlike the other doors in the house, which were made of sturdy, unpainted oak with large metal hasps, this door looked newer. It stood within a modern-looking doorframe with tidy, sharp-edged architrave.
“Does that door connect to your bedchamber?” George asked.
“Yes,” Theo said, “It’s locked. I meant to ask Mrs. Ford about the key last time I was here but forgot all about it.” He yawned, then laughed. “Sorry—I’m exhausted. I’ll say good night. Tomorrow, I’ll show you round the estate. Sleep well, George.”
And with that, he slipped out, closing the bedchamber door softly behind him.
George’s gaze moved back to the unusual door. Curious, he strolled over, turning the knob experimentally. It was locked, of course. Theo had already said so.
Would Mrs. Ford have a key?
A little shiver went through George as he imagined himself unlocking that door, entering Theo’s bedchamber and sliding into his bed in the quiet darkness.
Theo’s big, warm body waiting for him under the blankets.
God damn it, he thought desperately. Pull yourself together, man. Shaking his head, he turned from the locked door and made a beeline for the pile of luggage in the corner of the room.
21
THEO
“The house looks reasonably sound to me,” George said. “Other than the roof, of course.”
They were looking at the frontage of the house, having already walked through the interior, room by room, while George made cramped notes in his pocket book.
“The roof?” Theo echoed.
“There.” George pointed, and, sure enough, there was a small portion in the middle that looked like it was sagging slightly. Some of the shingles were disrupted too.
“That doesn’t look too bad,” Theo said hopefully. “Perhaps that’s an issue I could leave to any buyer to deal with?”
“I’m afraid not,” George said immediately, frowning. “Any sagging in your roof is serious and needs to be looked at. If the roof falls in, someone could be injured, and the cost of repair will be far worse than if you tackle it now. It’s not a problem you can’t afford to ignore, Theo. You should get a builder to come and look at it right away. A slater too.” He pulled his notebook out and made another note.
Theo felt a bolt of panic. He knew nothing of such things, but he suspected that a sagging roof would not be an easy, or cheap, problem to fix.
Beside him, George clapped his hands together. “Right. Let’s examine the farm yard and stables.” Without waiting for Theo’s reaction, he set off down the side path while Theo trailed in his wake, feeling useless and shamed. He was acutely aware that these were all problems that had been evident on his first visit, and he’d done nothing to fix any of them in the months since then.
Now, his impetuous decision to spend the accrued rent on renewing his membership to Redford’s seemed… well, unwise at best.
In the stables, George prodded the props between stalls and opened each of the gates in turn. Thankfully, the props appeared to be sturdy enough, but one of the gates was damaged, and the rakes and buckets in the corner, while tidily stored, were rusted with disuse.
More notes, then George said firmly, “Granary next.”
The granary was much worse. One of the wooden walls had mould creeping up it, and the steps leading up to the little door were dry and rotted. They looked liable to crumble into sawdust if anyone put so much as a toe on them.
