“Milady.” Dorcas dippedagain.
Wondering why his butler’s absence annoyed him, Laura smiled at the maid. “Hello, Dorcas. What is the housekeeper’s name? I should like to meet her.”
“We have no housekeeper at present, milady,” Dorcassaid.
“Have tea brought to the library,” Nathaniel ordered.
He ushered Laura into a grand hall that reminded her of a cold, fossilized forest. Solid columns of stone like the trunks of giant oaks formed graceful arches rising to a giddy height above. The carved wooden staircase decorated with branches, leaves and fruit led up into the shadowy floor overhead. A chill radiated up from the stone flags.
Their footsteps echoing, Laura followed Nathaniel along a passageway where massive tapestries decorated the walls. He opened a door and stood aside for her to enter beneath an ornamental arch into a magnificent room, its high, vaulted ceiling a series of decorative ribs. A splendid stained glass window dominated the far wall, which was set on fire by the lowering sun. The fog had driftedaway.
“We have a smaller salon, which is cozier in the winter. But I prefer this room.”
“It’s breathtaking.” Laura was unable to suppress the relief in her voice at finding both beauty and comfort in the elegant room. Bookshelves filled with gilt and leather-bound books covered two of the oak-paneled walls. Glass cabinets held displays of delicate Chinese porcelain. The furniture was mostly antiques of a very fine quality, most particularly the round rosewood library table and the carved oak desk. A large globe rested on a stand nearby. The pair of brown leather chesterfields faced a baronial fireplace, a Canaletto landscape of the Thames hanging above. It was all undeniably tasteful, well suited to a man like Nathaniel, she thought, eyeing the leopard skin rug stretched out before thefire.
“Did you shoot that?” she asked with asmile.
He grinned. “I believe a great uncle did. I don’t care for safaris.”
Relieved, she made a note to have it stored in the attic. “You have an extensive collection of Chinese porcelain.”
“My mother was a collector. Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll have a drink with you, and then I must consult my overseer Hugh Pitney. I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow.”
Apart from the beautiful porcelain, Laura couldn’t see a sign of a woman’s influence anywhere. No likenesses in silver frames, no china ornaments, shawls or crocheted antimacassars. She sat on the chesterfield and swallowed her disappointment at him leaving her so soon. Although eager to see more of the house, she would have liked him to show it to her. But she knew he must supervise the running of his estate, especially after an absence.
Nathaniel seemed preoccupied since they arrived. As if Wolfram owned a large part of him. She shrugged at such a fanciful thought but couldn’t help another creeping in to replace it. Would Wolfram ever become home to her? She sat back and smoothed her heavy skirt that she couldn’t wait to change out of. While she wanted to learn more about Nathaniel’s life here, now was not the time to ask. “Tell me more about the history of the abbey.”
He poured himself a whiskey from a crystal decanter on the sideboard. “It was a monastery before it became an abbey. The estate has been in my family since the 16thcentury.” He stretched his long legs out and leaned back against the leather squab. “The Jacobites hid here in 1714. Their plan was to seize Exeter, Bristol and Plymouth in the hope that the other smaller towns would join the Stuart cause. But the militia quelled the uprising.”
“Your ancestors supported the Jacobites?”
“King James II was a Catholic, and King Charles II’s illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth, was popular in the Southwest. The first Baron Lanyon supported his claim to the throne. Not wisely as it turned out.”
Dorcas carried a tray with a solid silver tea service into the room, followed by another maid with golden-colored fruitcake, flat scones, thick cream andjam.
Laura had rejected any food on the train, and now her stomach rumbled. She took a bite of the fruitcake, finding it tasty. “What makes the cake this wonderful color?”
“Saffron. Traditional fare in these parts.”
Nathaniel put down his glass. He stood and bent to brush a kiss on her lips. “Dorcas will take care of your needs.”
Why no housekeeper? She had many questions, but he was gone before she could ask them. Laura poured another cup of tea, a smoky brew she didn’t recognize. The dainty teacup was Spode china with the family crest emblazoned on it ingold.
She’d finished her tea and was eating the last crumbs of the delicious fruit cake when Dorcas returned. “I’ll take you to your chamber, should you be ready, milady.”
Eager to see more of the abbey, Laura rose and followed her. They mounted the wide staircase and on the next floor walked along a corridor. A chambermaid waited with linen over her arm, her eyes downcast.
“How many on the staff, Dorcas?”
“A dozen servants in the house. There be many workers on the estate though. I have no idea of the number. You be in the Daffodil chamber, milady.”
“That sounds inviting,” Laura said, as Dorcas opened one of the thick, arched wooden doors.
Laura almost gasped out loud. Wolfram’s rooms were lofty and large, and this room was no exception. She gazed from the painted plaster ceiling a good twenty feet above, to the floor covered in a thick Oriental carpet. An entire family could sleep in comfort in the carved oak four-poster bed with gold brocade bed hangings. A massive armoire occupied a corner, with a washstand and basin, a vanity table and brocade stool against the other wall. A painting of a lady in green velvet from another age hung above the stone fireplace. Laura wondered who it was. At least it wasn’t Amanda, she thought, stifling a nervous giggle. Stepping into another woman’s shoes was ratherdaunting.
Laura crossed to the tall, narrow casement windows, catching sight of her pale face in a gilt mirror as she passed. She prodded her hair. Heavens, she looked like a scarecrow. Pulling aside the heavy brocade curtains woven in gold thread, she gazed at the view below.
A stiff breeze dispersed the last tendrils of fog and bared the causeway, a built-up carriageway, the receding tide lapping at its rocky foundations. There were the steps she and Nathaniel had climbed earlier, which led through terraced gardens down to the restless expanse of slate-colored sea. Craning her neck, Laura could just see the stable block next to a more modern building that would be the overseer’s office. The trap had arrived, and two men unloaded the luggage. Nathaniel wandered into view, imposing in his riding clothes, his crop resting on his shoulder, his dogs romping at his heels.
