“It’slions,” said Jameson, rushing to touch the legs of a massive table, which had—indeed—been carved into lions. The table was flanked by a stone fireplace, a fire blazing despite the July date. “There are thirteen scary portraits on the wall,” Jameson continued, “and the wall is the color of blood!”
“Some of the Mumberton line were handsome, some less so,” commented Louisa.
They walked across the Great Hall to enter the library, an octagonal room with another roaring fire. Emma craned her neck, bowled over by the high ceilings, chandeliers, leather-bound books, threadbare carpets, velvet couches, and what seemed to be ten zillion tchotchkes, from marble statues to family photographs to saucers, teacups, baskets, and clocks.
“I cannot believe I am standing in this place,” breathed Rich.
“And here is where I make my home,” said Louisa, gesturingto an alcove where a desk filled with papers and dirty teacups was lit by an old lamp. An electrical cord jammed with plugs seemed an obvious hazard in a wooden room filled with flammable objects.
“The ceiling of the Mumberton Library was painted to resemble the night sky on the date in 1205 when a deed from King John gave this land to the family,” Louisa said reverentially.
Emma tried to take it all in. A medical kit was left open to display cut glass bottles, a mortar and pestle, and an old syringe. One table was covered with a velvet tablecloth, various coins, blue eyeglasses, a red velvet crown lined with dingy ermine, and what seem to be an ashtray holding a photograph of a king.
In the dining room, Louisa told them that the wallpaper was actually leather; the fruit in crystal bowls was wax; and one of the old men in a portrait had been killed by a tiger in India.
“This drawing room,” said Louisa, striding ahead of them, “was once called thewith-drawing room. It’s where the ladies used to go, leaving the men at table to enjoy rum and cigars.”
More porcelain. More clocks. More wooden furniture and portraits and vases and candelabras and a tufted velvet stool. Louisa was a very eager tour guide who seemed to have been waiting for some time for an audience to come her way.
The castle smelled of ash from the many fireplaces, but Emma closed her eyes and sniffed, recognizing a base note of myrrh and middle notes of pine and coriander. Did she detect neroli, a top-note floral Emma loved and made from steaming orange blossom petals? Perhaps, but whatever it was exactly, she loved the castle smell and couldn’t wait to try to re-create it.
Louisa’s tour showed no sign of stopping. “The billiard room,” she declared, “has inlaid paneling from a navy ship that fought in the Battle of Trafalgar!”
Rich walked toward one of the stunning tapestries lining thewalls. “These tapestries were woven during Tudor times and are incredibly valuable,” noted Louisa. “See the gold embroidery? A king would travelwithhis tapestries. If he left them unguarded, they’d be ripped from the walls! Also, they served as insulation. No central heating in medieval times!”
Rich and Emma caught each other’s gaze over Louisa’s head as she spoke at length about the Tudor Revival plasterwork ceiling. Guinness touched a marble statue of a bear, and looked at his mother with wide, excited eyes, a childish expression she hadn’t seen in a while. Finally, they climbed a staircase, which was lined on one side with marble panels depicting nymphs and on the other side, horse portraits.
Halfway down a long stone hallway, Louisa fumbled with a circle holding tarnished metal keys. She turned the lock in one door and it made a low creaking noise as she swung it open. They all crowded around the passageway and then stepped, one at a time, inside.
The room—a bedroom suite—was incredible. The walls were made of hand-placed stones except the far one, which was lined with dark wooden panels. An ivory ceiling with a hexagonal pattern made of wood was lined with deep blue paint, a glittering chandelier hanging in its center.
Louisa approached arched windows, where brass curtain rods held thick golden curtains edged with tiny tassels made of gold thread. “The shutters are just the way they would have been in Tudor times. As you can see, you’d close the shutters to keep out the arrows.”
“Arrows,” repeated Jameson, nodding reverentially.
“Please call me to light the fire and don’t do it yourselves,” said Louisa.
“Many thanks,” said Rich. “We appreciate your knowledge, Louisa. I think we’re about ready for some downtime now if you don’t mind.”
Ignoring Rich’s polite query, Louisa remained with them, pulling the door shut behind them using a circular-shaped metal pull. The lock clicked firmly into place. Wind buffeted the castle, making a rushing sound.
The bedroom smelled of cold stone and rain, with mineral notes that reminded Emma of a fragrance called Terre d’Hermès, designed by the talented Jean-Claude Ellena, the first “nose” (a term used in classical French perfumery) to combine shiso leaves and flint. Emma began sketching a perfume brief in her mind. She would call the fragrance “Mumberton” and use orange, vetiver (to smell like the stones), and a base note of benzoin, sap from cuts in the trunks of trees. How would she evoke the antique feel of the castle? Amber? Beeswax?
“Your sister will be in the Gatekeeper’s Cottage, also known as the Honeymoon Cottage…you probably saw it driving in—that arched building over the road into the castle. Simon himself helped with the interior renovation. There’s one room for a bride, an upstairs arch with a terrace overlooking the castle, and down the stairs on the other side, the groom’s rooms. So romantic. They can meet in the treetop archway for a stolen kiss.”
Guinness met his mother’s eyes and made a face. Perhaps Louisa Freck needed a stolen kiss of her own.
“But back to your abode!” said Louisa. “You can see where the soldiers would have lived in the barracks,” she said, pointing out a window. “Despite them, the first Lord Mumberton was beheaded.”
The boys crowded Louisa, wanting to hear more. “This room, aside from the witch marks on the window paneling, doesnotappear to be haunted,” said Louisa.
“Witch marks?” cried Jameson.
“Can we live here forever?” said Guinness.
“Who knows, lads? Maybe your Auntie Sylviawilllet you live here forever!”
Louisa halted next to a chamber pot and marble washstandunderneath a beautiful tapestry. She put her hand to her breast. “It’s as we always dreamed,” she said. “Little Simon finding the right bride and coming home to stay. It’s a fairy tale, truly.”
