Something Old

by Rebecca Connolly

  Thomas shook his head in disbelief, the perfect beds of florals, walls of hedges, and gravel paths the very picture of the ideal estate garden. Another, smaller aspect of the gardens caught his eye.

  “What is that walled section, Mrs. Penrose?” he inquired, indicating it with a nod.

  “Ah,” Mrs. Penrose nodded, smiling for them both. “That is the private garden for the lady of the house. Where the stewardship of the main gardens belongs to the head gardener, under the direction of the master, those particular gardens are under the direct care of the lady of the house, with intervention of the gardening staff only as indicated. Mrs. Tremellion preferred to do all tasks herself in them while she could, and in her absence, Mr. Allyn has been seeing to the upkeep.”

  Had he designed a private garden for his wife himself, Thomas could not have imagined anything more perfect. Without even seeing them, he considered the walled garden his favorite part of the house, and it would take a great deal indeed to alter his opinion.

  “Perhaps I might show you the rest of the house before you enter the gardens?” Mrs. Penrose suggested. “I fear that I will lose your attention for any other aspect of Pendrizzick once you are swallowed up adoring them.”

  Thomas chuckled and heard Lily do the same. They looked at each other, both smiling, and Thomas had the sense that their thoughts were in perfect alignment.

  They were enamored with Pendrizzick, and this was the place in which they wished to spend their time in Cornwall, however long it might be.

  “Very well, Mrs. Penrose,” Thomas told her with a laugh. “Onward, and we will return to this glorious Eden once we’ve seen the rest of the house.”

  “Much obliged, Mr. Granger.” She smiled and turned to exit the ballroom through the other set of doors leading into the house. “We have a pair of sitting rooms here, both open to each other, and connecting into a very fine music room. Have you any interest in the pianoforte or the harp, Mrs. Granger?”

  “Oh, very much so!” Lily made no attempt to hide her enthusiasm, which warmed Thomas profoundly. He followed her into the warm and comfortable music room where the instruments were covered with white sheets and nearly glowing with the light streaming through the windows. “There is so much light in here!”

  Mrs. Penrose seemed to sigh pleasantly as she took in the windows in the room. “From its creation, Pendrizzick has always been a structure aimed at being a prism of sorts, carrying the light as deep into its walls as possible. I have no doubt that is why it possesses the shape it does, granting more access to windows than you might find elsewhere.” She shook herself from some private reverie, and indicated a small, unobtrusive door on the far side of the room. “Through there is the private sitting room for the lady of the house and the direct entrance to her garden.”

  Lily shook her head with surprising firmness. “If we go through there, I am likely to forego the rest of the house. Best continue, perhaps to the study?”

  “Just as you please, Mrs. Granger,” Mrs. Penrose replied with a knowing smile.

  They moved back out into the corridor and were soon looking into a standard study without much by way of adornments, which was just what Thomas would have preferred in his.

  Pendrizzick was looking promising indeed.

  “This is the family stair,” Mrs. Penrose told them as they began to ascend to the next floor. “Leading into the family rooms, naturally. Would you be needing a nursery during your stay?”

  Thomas felt his cheeks heat and forced himself not to look at his wife to check the state of her complexion. “No, Mrs. Penrose. We have no children yet.”

  Unruffled, Mrs. Penrose nodded and turned at the top of the stair. “That will make accommodating you simpler for us. It has been an age since the nursery here was of any use at all, though we do clean and tend to the room, as we do all the rest.” She flicked her fingers toward the rooms they passed. “These are the family rooms, and the master and mistress rooms are just ahead of us.”

  It struck Thomas that the rooms for the master and mistress of the house were directly across the corridor from each other, the layout of each mirroring the other, including the adjoining dressing rooms and private balconies. The mistress’s room opened out to a view of the gardens, the master’s room to a view of the courtyard, centered within the neat square formed by the faces of the house, containing a fountain in the center.

  Ironically, the master’s room also had a view of the nearest local mines, in one of which Thomas was now a chief shareholder. He’d refrain from making a judgment about what that meant as far as what the focus of the master of Pendrizzick was and what it could mean for him if he did not mind himself.

  “And here,” Mrs. Penrose went on, a small smile on her face, “are the doors to the balconies in the ballroom.”

  Thomas chuckled as he retreated from the master’s room out into the corridor. “Did the Tremellion children stand there as well?”

  Mrs. Penrose laughed with him. “On some occasions, yes, they did.”

  “What an adorable sight that must have been,” Lily murmured, a whimsical curve of her lips appearing as she stared toward them, no doubt imagining the scenes.

  “If you’ll follow me,” Mrs. Penrose suggested, waving them on, “we’ll proceed through the gallery leading to the guest rooms. The family portraits have been taken down, as you can imagine, given the family’s desire to take them to their new home in Bath. But there are several other portraits and pieces that have replaced them, which I hope will meet your approval.”

  Thomas and Lily fell into step beside each other as they followed her, only half listening as the good woman continued to talk without interruption.

  “I love this house,” Lily whispered to Thomas through a fixed smile.

  “So do I,” he replied in a similar tone.

  “Can we take it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Today?”

  “If that can be accommodated.”

  “Will you ask?”

  “Yes.”

  His wife sighed happily beside him. “I hope we might start anew here, Thomas. I should very much like to.”

  It took a full three attempts at a swallow before Thomas could manage one, clearing his throat faintly to reply to such a sweet statement. “So would I.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Mrs. Clare would like me to inquire as to your wishes for dinner, Mrs. Granger.”

  Lily looked up from the writing desk in her sitting room, eyes wide. “My wishes? I approved her menu, did I not?”

  Mrs. Penrose smiled sympathetically. “Yes, madam, though, if you recall, there was no partridge to be had, so she must adjust for this evening.”

  “Oh, bless me, I forgot.” Lily put a hand to her brow, sighing, then laughing as she thought quickly. “Would you kindly tell her that the fish would be perfect? That would be the easiest solution for her, yes?”

  “I believe so, madam.” Mrs. Penrose continued to smile and took a further step toward Lily. “Have you settled, madam? Are your rooms to your satisfaction?”

  Lily dropped her hand, relaxing as her moment of panic passed. “I believe so. Are Eaton and Pierce adjusting? I do hope they get on with the rest of the staff.”

  “I’ve not heard of any issues, madam,” Mrs. Penrose assured her. “Pierce has been a great help to the new maids we’ve brought on, despite being your lady’s maid and not a house maid. I am much obliged to her.”

  “That is a relief.” Lily tilted her head in consideration. “What are your thoughts on the hiring of a butler, Mrs. Penrose? I know Mr. Granger would value your opinion on candidates.”

  The housekeeper clasped her hand before her, lips pursing in thought. “I don’t know any particular candidates for the position that are without present employment. I am happy to offer my services to Mr. Granger if he has a promising candidate to interview. I do know that George is most anxious to return to his duties.”

  Lily nodded, recalling the head footman’s statement
upon their first meeting with him. “Do you foresee any trouble with the staff adjusting to a new butler?”

  “Not particularly, madam. Particularly as George has no wishes to fill the position. If there are issues, I will settle them.”

  “I want to make this perfectly clear,” Lily told her, straightening up as an earnestness rolled through her. “Should any member of the staff take issue with new members of the staff, or with Mr. Granger or myself, we are happy to write excellent references for them to seek new employment. I don’t want anyone to feel trapped in their circumstances.”

  Mrs. Penrose smiled, though it seemed almost as pitying as it was kind. “Very generous, madam, but again, I do not foresee any problems arising. Our staff have been content at Pendrizzick, and I cannot think of either you or Mr. Granger ever becoming cruel or overbearing masters.”

  Lily had to laugh at that, the idea a ridiculous one, which was undoubtedly the point. Whatever her complaints with Thomas in her marriage, she would never have considered him cruel or overbearing.

  “No, we, neither of us, have that in our natures.” Other faults, certainly, but not those.

  Lily turned back to her letters, a finger tracing the pattern of words on one. “Do you know if Mr. Granger is at home?” she asked without looking, afraid to seem too eager, too inquisitive, or too fretful.

  “I believe he had a shareholder’s meeting this morning, but he would return when it was completed.” Mrs. Penrose shrugged a little. “I did suggest that the ride to Redruth might exhaust him, and that staying the night at the inn there might be preferable, but he insisted that he would rather be at home. I confess, I find it charming that he already considers Pendrizzick a home, despite being here only a few days.”

  “We’re quite enchanted with the place,” Lily admitted without shame, looking at the housekeeper again. “Mrs. Penrose… I have never been to Cornwall, and I know nothing about the county, the culture, or the language. I’ve only lived in London and Hampshire, and in my family’s home, which exists in some state of barely existing at all, and know very little about the Society outside of those places. Could you help me?”

  Mrs. Penrose gave her a steady look, her lips curving. “Madam, I’ve never found myself in the sort of company that you and your husband would be expected to keep, so I cannot speak to that precisely. But I will say that we are fairly removed from London here, and not everyone goes to London for the Season.”

  Lily nodded as she listened, finding herself settling with even that small bit of information. She had no particular issue with Society, as it were, but she did prefer to be away from it all. The gossip, the fuss, the pressure to always be on display… If she could be out of London and be in a place where the only person she knew was her husband, who seemed to have woken from some deep slumber that had held him since their marriage, why would she not eagerly accept such an opportunity?

  She gnawed on her lip briefly in thought. “And what does Pendrizzick mean?”

  Mrs. Penrose chuckled once. “End of the brambles.”

  Lily snorted a laugh, covering her nose and mouth. “Does it really?”

  “Yes, madam.” The housekeeper beamed with real pleasure, if not outright pride. “The story goes that the original family, the St. Daveys, opted to keep the surrounding brambles on their land as the house was constructed, in an attempt to prevent envious neighbors and tenants from trespassing. When the house was completed, it was named in tribute to the journey one must take to arrive.”

  Lily laughed heartily at the tale, wrapping an arm around her stomach as she imagined the family’s delight in naming their home so perfectly. “Is that true?”

  Mrs. Penrose could only shrug, still smiling. “The story has been passed down for generations now, so one may never truly know.”

  “Well, I think it is simply delightful.” Lily gestured to the ceiling above them. “Does that explain the tribute to brambles and berries throughout the house?”

  “I believe it does, madam.”

  “How utterly perfect,” Lily said with a sigh. “Thank you, Mrs. Penrose. I know it cannot be your wish to indulge my ignorance, but I do so appreciate it.”

  Mrs. Penrose gave her an almost matronly smile. “Mrs. Granger, if I may be frank, I am delighted to have the house inhabited again and to have such fine people to serve after so many months of absence.” She inclined her head in respect, humbling Lily in a single motion. “If you’ll excuse me, madam, I’ll pass your wishes on to Mrs. Clare and the kitchen staff.”

  At Lily’s nod, the housekeeper left the room, and Lily returned to her halfhearted letter to her sister Rosalind. It would take ages for her to receive it, given her husband’s stationing in the Indies, but she was owed a letter, there was no question.

  She struggled to find the most optimistic words possible for the state of her life, even with her current state of hope. Rosalind was well aware of the nature of Lily’s marriage, but her own marriage was one of passionate love and tenderness, which would surprise anyone who had known Rosalind or Captain Riverton in years past. They had bickered worse than siblings and had shown no pleasure in each other’s company, yet one always seemed to circle the other. No one believed they did not fancy the other, but the abject refusal of either to admit such had led to speculation of ever finding resolution.

  There had been a great rush of gossip when Rosalind had suddenly married the man and left with the captain as he shipped out, and the more romantically inclined ladies in Society had swooned with the story.

  Lily had never felt quite able to write with complete honesty to her sister after that, at least with regard to her marriage. She had to be perfectly content and satisfied, comfortable with the state of things, and seeking nothing more than the life she presently had. Rosalind likely had never been fooled by Lily’s attempts, but it was a fine way to protect Lily’s heart and insecurities regardless. And her sister had let the lies stand, never once prodding for any deeper truth.

  Perhaps her own happiness had given her a greater understanding of Lily’s lack thereof, and a mutual understanding to avoid the discussion of it had silently settled between them both. But when the day came that Rosalind returned to England, perhaps with a child or two in tow, Lily would find herself confiding all to her sister over a cup of tea, she had no doubt.

  And nothing she would say in such a conversation would surprise her sister.

  What could she tell her about her retreat to Cornwall? If she was too vague, Rosalind would press for details. If she was too detailed, Rosalind would suspect her of hiding something. If she admitted that she had faint hopes of finding romance with her husband while here…

  Well, by the time Rosalind received that information and wrote back to inquire more, the whole affair could have ended in disaster, and Lily would have to disappoint her and relive the pain in the retelling.

  “An express for you, madam,” George suddenly announced as he entered her sitting room, the missive on a platter.

  Lily plucked it up in surprise, brow furrowing as she broke the seal. Her eyes scanned her husband’s familiar scrawl, her eyes widening as she read. “We’re to attend a dinner party this evening at the home of Lord Basset. He saw Mr. Granger in Redruth today and extended the invitation even at this late date. What must his wife think of that?”

  “Forgive me, madam,” George said, clearing his throat. “Lord Basset is unmarried, I believe.”

  Lily flicked her dark eyes up to him before returning to the letter. “Small mercies, then, as I cannot think a wife would appreciate having the number of her guests so suddenly altered. Gracious.” She bit her lip, then returned her attention to George. “Would you please inform Mrs. Clare that the plans for dinner must change again? And extend my profound apologies. I had just confirmed her change to the menu.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Granger.” George nodded, leaving the room.

  A dinner invitation? With only a few hours prior to the event? She supposed it was possible, but she did f
ind it strange, particularly when she had no idea who the man was or how he was connected to her husband. If he was at all. They could have met sitting in the same taproom, for heaven’s sake.

  If the man were unmarried, he would not have a wife with whom Lily could form a connection or friendship, but perhaps he would have invited ladies among his guests who might suit. As much as she would love to spend her time with her husband alone while they were here, she could hardly monopolize every moment of his time. He did have business affairs in Cornwall, and there was nothing her husband loved so well as business. All the better, then, that Lily find opportunities to amuse herself for the times when her husband preferred to spend his time elsewhere.

  If nothing else, Cornwall could become a more distant place for Lily to embrace solitude.

  Glancing out of the window, barely catching a glimpse of the sea beyond, Lily suddenly longed to walk along the cliffs and moors, even along Dandrea Beach itself, and find consolation for herself to turn to when she would need it most.

  But for now, she needed to finish this letter to Rosalind, then prepare herself for a dinner party among strangers.

  “Lily! Lily, are you ready?”

  Lily fussed with her appearance once more in the mirror, the curls at her temples still seeming too billowy, the plaits and curls at the crown of her head too towering. But at least the pale yellow flower pins suited her coloring, and the ribbons did not feel excessive. She sighed and pushed herself up from her toilette, brushing at her white skirts and hurrying from her rooms.

  Pierce had left her some time ago, content with her craft and assuring Lily that she looked lovely, but the longer Lily had stared at her appearance, the less certain she had become. But there was not anything she could do about it now, and they would be tardy if she waited longer.

  That would not do at all for their first foray into local Society.

  “Yes, I am sorry!” she called as she hurried down the corridor. The cool metal of her dangling pearl earbobs clapped against her neck in time with her paces, adding a strange cadence to her flight.