the past few years and that additional staff would be needed. Now, as Sydony stood in the pouring rain, she pondered the exact meaning of ‘additional’.
Finally, Kit tried the door, which swung open after a brief struggle. Inside, all was dark and quiet, with little light filtering in from outside.
‘Hello?’ Kit called out. His voice echoed in the old-fashioned hall with its stone flags. Although open, the space smelled musty, and Sydony was struck by a vision of their cosy cottage with its wood floors, brightly painted walls and cheerful, airy windows. Despite her father’s dusty piles of books, it had always been filled with the scents of beeswax and flowers, fresh or dried.
‘Well, even if there’s no one to greet us, here we are at our own place, Syd. What do you think of our good fortune?’ Kit said, spreading his arms to encompass the dreary area.
‘Astounding,’ she said, tongue firmly in cheek.
As she had anticipated, Kit chuckled at her tone before hurrying to drag in the trunks.
Unfastening her cloak, Sydony went in search of the kitchen, but she found no comfort there. Although no servants were about, the place looked as if they had but recently left in the midst of their labours. Several bowls and utensils cluttered the work table, yet when Sydony reached out to touch them, her gloved finger became marked with dust.
It was almost as though the inhabitants had exited suddenly, but when? Sydony shook her head. If so, they had left no food about to spoil or draw vermin, Sydony noted with a quick glance into the shadowy corners. Even the kitchen was gloomy, and as she glanced about Sydony saw that a window high in one wall had been boarded over. No wonder it was dim.
Thankfully, a window in the other wall remained intact. Stepping towards it, Sydony wiped it with a gloved hand and leaned forwards to peek out. At first she could see only blackness, but then a face swam behind the pane. She let out an involuntary shriek before she recognised their own coachman.
Her heart pounding, Sydony drew a deep breath and straightened as she moved to open the nearby door. Although hardly missish, it seemed she was not immune to the odd mood set by the deserted residence.
‘Sorry, miss,’ Henry said, stepping inside. He slipped off his hat and shook the rain from his shoulders. ‘Didn’t mean to give you a fright.’
‘Certainly not,’ Sydony said, knowing how Kit would roar with laughter. She had thought a childhood of boy’s pranks had inured her to everything, but the new surroundings were enough to unnerve anyone.
As if on cue, Kit appeared in the doorway, a sturdy implement in hand that he must have snatched up from a fireplace. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I thought I heard something.’
‘I’m afraid I gave Miss Marchant a turn,’ Henry said.
‘It was nothing,’ Sydony muttered, and, for once, Kit did not pursue it. They had more important things to do.
‘I didn’t see any of the crates we shipped ahead,’ Kit said. ‘Did you see anything in the stables?’
Henry shook his head. ‘My boy Clarence is settling in the horses, but I didn’t see hide nor hair of anyone. The place looks like it hasn’t been used in many a year.’
‘Well, we shall just have to set up our own stables,’ Kit said.
‘I hope you’ll be able to find some decent groomsmen way out here,’ Henry said, looking down at the hat in his hand.
‘You’re welcome to stay on, of course. You and Clarence both,’ Kit said, though Sydony knew they had discussed this before.
‘Thank you, sir, but it just isn’t my home here. I’ll miss the team and all, though.’
‘Of course, we shall take care of them, personally, until we can hire some trustworthy,’ Kit assured him. ‘And you must let us know how you get on at the Fieldings’.’
‘I will, sir.’
Before things turned really maudlin, Sydony cleared her throat. ‘Well, since there seem to be no servants about, I’ll see what I can muster up for our dinner. You and Clarence come on back to the kitchen once the horses are bedded down.’
‘Shall we look for a room for you?’ Kit asked.
‘No, sir. We’ll be just fine out in the stables. There’s a separate area with cots.’
‘Very well. Thank you, Henry,’ Kit said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but it had all been said. Sadly, their groomsmen, their cook and their maids had elected not to move to parts unknown. And right now, Sydony could not blame them. Lest she be tempted to take the mail coach back with Henry and Clarence, she set to work. Throwing her cloak over a chair, she stripped off her gloves and went searching for edibles, while Kit started a fire in the open hearth.
Before long there was a nice blaze going, which put forth both warmth and cheer, though the room itself was not exactly homely. Sydony told herself that a good scrubbing and some bright paint would help, though there was no altering the fact that the house was old, with its own style and quirks. A more pessimistic sort might deem it a medieval horror right out of the most popular novels, but Sydony refused to acknowledge the possibility.
For Kit’s sake, if not her own, she needed to keep such thoughts at bay. Besides, everything would look better in the morning, she told herself as she shook out a cloth and laid it upon a corner of the work table. They would eat here, for, despite her good intentions, she hadn’t the heart to tackle any other room at the moment.
Kit found some lanterns that added more light, which improved the atmosphere, and Sydony was grateful. Not knowing what lay ahead today, she had asked for a packed basket when they stopped for luncheon, so there was cold chicken, salted ham, wedges of cheese, a fat loaf of bread and apples for their supper. Thankfully, at some point water had been piped into the house, and Kit produced a bottle of wine that was most welcome.
But when all four of them were seated, it was a sad little group, everyone well aware of their parting on the morrow. Henry made obvious his disapproval of the whole situation, muttering about a godforsaken place without a soul to even greet them properly.
‘Now, Henry, you are talking about my country estate,’ Kit said, while slicing himself more cheese. ‘Don’t you think I’m suited to be a gentleman farmer?’
‘More suited to be that than a gentleman scholar,’ Sydony said, and they all laughed. But even Sydony’s wit and Kit’s good humour could not entirely relieve the sense of a gallows bird’s last meal that hung over the company.
That mood only grew stronger after the coachman and his boy left for the stables and Kit and Sydony went in search of some beds. It was full dark outside, though the storm had abated, as they made their way back to the hall, its musty smell more pronounced after the relatively odour-free kitchen.
‘Look at this wonderful staircase,’ Kit said, as they approached the steps that led from the ground floor up to the first. It squared off, leading up to an open landing, before turning upwards again, its dark wood carved into intricate patterns that seemed a bit busy to Sydony. However, she was loathe to discourage her brother. Someone had to see the bright side of this experience, and Kit was obviously bursting with some sort of male pride of ownership that failed to move his sister.
