Ashes of Roses

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “Arranging one’s own marriage is much better, by far,” Jenny declared, and we both agreed.

  As I zipped the last suitcase, the front door opened and Miles walked in, followed by John and Xander. We talked for a few minutes after that, but considering the evening hour, and in consideration of our flight the next morning, our friends stayed only long enough for a brief pet care recap, and to ensure multiple means of communication were had by all. If there were any emergencies, we wanted to know sooner, rather than later. Even though it would take us an entire day or night to get back.

  The thought brought a renewed sense of apprehension with it, and a case of early-onset homesickness. After we ate, I got ready for bed while Miles packed, then sat and cuddled Fidget, pet Chip, and offered Night as much attention as he cared to have at the moment.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Miles commented, as he zipped his last suitcase, then set it beside mine. He joined me on the bedroom rug, and rubbed Fidget’s chin as he waited for me to answer.

  “I guess I’m a little nervous,” I admitted. “I’ve never been so far from home before. Have you?”

  “No, not nearly,” Miles replied.

  “I’ve never been out of the country, either,” I said. “Have you?”

  “Not all of the fifty states were yet in existence during the first nineteen years of my life, so in that regard, I wasn’t even born in this country.”

  “That’s right, the original part of the estate was built when this area was only a territory,” I remembered. “How funny to think you weren’t born in a state.”

  “This area wasn’t a territory either, not until I was about five months old,” Miles corrected. “So I was born in neither country, state, nor territory.”

  “Oh, wow,” I considered. “I guess with all the changes you’ve experienced, and witnessed, it’s no big deal to fly to a time zone seven hours ahead of us, and visit a foreign country, and relatives you’ve never met.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Miles disagreed. “I’m stepping out into the unknown, about as much as you are. Although, I did spend a long time on the phone with Grandma Polly today. Thanks to her travel advice, I think I have a pretty good idea what to expect, and my best friend will be right there with me, so… I’m not nervous.”

  “Good, then neither am I,” I said, and leaned into him as he put his arm around me.

  “I will miss the kids,” Miles remarked, as Chip rested his chin on Miles’ knee, and got the scratch behind the ears he was hoping for.

  “Me too,” I sighed, but I also resolved not to obsess over it, and to be positive, instead. “How great you have family still living though, and that you get to meet them.”

  “It is. I love the family we are together, plus your entire extended family, and Grandma Polly. I don’t need anything more. But, I admit, sometimes I felt… pressure, I guess, that I was the last of the family I was born to.”

  “Well why didn’t you say so?” I replied. “We can do something about that, right now. Besides, we’ll have a better chance of repopulating the estate, if we skip waiting until after we graduate. It’ll increase the final count by at least three or four, anyway.”

  I was mostly teasing. But if he wanted to start having kids, I wouldn’t veto! That desire was never far from the back of my mind. I was already imagining the guest room in either pink, or blue.

  But, Miles laughed.

  “Tempting as that is, I’m willing to be patient,” he smiled.

  “Fine, if that’s the way you feel…” I sighed a little more dramatically than I felt.

  Deep down, I knew he was right. My abilities were all-consuming at times, and they continued to morph and develop. Learning to hone these gifts I’d been entrusted with, and resolving the cases placed in front of us, needed to be our priority for the time being.

  “Bannerman Manor was built after my branch of the family emigrated, but traveling back and forth wasn’t uncommon,” Miles remarked. “My brother’s plan was to elope with Sarah, as you know, then honeymoon in Europe. It’s possible that he, or other family members, visited the manor while vacationing there.”

  “I thought Delevan didn’t like to travel,” I said in surprise.

  “He wasn’t fond of traveling to conduct business,” Miles corrected. “He visited Europe more than once, as I recall.”

  “Huh. But you didn’t.”

  “Frittering my time away held no interest, certainly not when there was a gap to fill that would provide the hands-on opportunity to learn all I could about business. It wasn’t a matter of altruism. I anticipated having my own someday, and knew the experience of building and managing our father’s extended endeavors would aid in that goal.”

  “I’ll bet you never guessed all that experience would be serving you so well this many years later,” I said.

  “No, I never did,” Miles laughed. “I’m glad I made the choices I did, and that my first trip to Europe, is with you.”

  “Me too,” I smiled.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting the Carlisles, but I’m also anticipating becoming acquainted with the manor itself.”

  “Imagine what might be hidden away there,” I daydreamed. “Do you suppose some of the parts not open for viewing are stuffed to the gills, like the storage rooms at our estate?”

  “I wonder,” Miles imagined. “Let’s hope your reputation doesn’t precede you. They’ll be asking for your assistance in sorting through it all.”

  “Ug! Let us hope not!” I laughed. “Although… as back-breaking as that sometimes was, it was a lot of fun, too, because I was with you.”

  “I felt the same way, although my back didn’t suffer any. Only my heart, at the thought of leaving you. Have I mentioned today how glad I am to be back here, with you? All the way back?”

  “No, you’re slacking off, Mister,” I said, as I melted in response to the sound of his voice, and the look in his eyes. He laughed softly, and kissed me.

  We called it an early night. Our ten fifty-eight AM plane departure would require a much earlier wake-up, but more than that, our twelve hour and fifty-seven minute flight—which included a lengthy layover—would land us at the airport at six-fifty-five, the following morning. Getting used to the time change wouldn’t be easy! The more sleep we could get before we left, and while on the flight, the better. Traveling first class, would help. A direct flight would help even more, but there was no such thing where we were located.

  So, we used the layover to stretch our legs, have a leisurely lunch, visit the airport coffee shop more than once, browse the gift shops, and check in with our friends for a pet update. Both friends, and pets, were fine. So was the Lodge, and with the combined efforts of John and Annette as acting managers, we were confident it would stay that way. We spent the rest of our time people watching, until I made the comment that it would sure throw a wrench in our plans if I saw any darkness. That put a damper on that past time, until Miles reluctantly acknowledged that if there was darkness to behold, it would mean we had a job to do. If we turned a blind eye, or donned super dark sunglasses, we’d be letting someone down. So, I put away the sunglasses, and we people watched some more. Even if our plans did get waylaid, whatever we faced, we’d face it together. That’s really all that mattered.

  But, I saw no darkness, after all. We boarded our next flight uneventfully, and away we went across the ocean. Despite the lattes I consumed that morning and during our layover, I managed to sleep part of the way there.

  We landed, at last, and Grandma Polly’s advice stood us in good stead. So did the driver Ashley Fairgrave sent to pick us up. Reg loaded our suitcases into the Rolls, and we were on our way. But, our travels were hardly over. That, required another four hours on the road, then a two hour ferry ride. But at last, the Isle of Camden loomed on the horizon.

  The salty breeze carried across the deep blue sea made me thankful for my long, crimson wool coat, the heavy sweater I wore underneath, and my tall leather boots. The steam
ing cup of hot cocoa in my hands kept my fingers from going numb, but even so, I found myself shivering.

  “We can always go back in,” Miles suggested, as he tightened his arms around me.

  “It’s just getting interesting,” I said, as I watched the rolling green hills, forest glades, and craggy mountains grow closer. “Besides, it’s not that much warmer in there.”

  A harbor appeared, complete with boats, and behind them, a rambling city. A cloud of mist drifted along the coast, obscuring the details one moment, then lifting to reveal them the next. A buoy bobbed along with the waves, its bell joining the cry of the seagulls sounding clearly over the water. The breeze carried cold, damp air with it, and I cringed.

  “Maybe not, but there’s no wind, and it’s drier,” Miles reasoned, as he led me back to the door, and ushered me inside.

  “That’s the truth,” I admitted with another shiver, and a backward glance. “I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the manor.”

  “You’re not likely to, unless you take to the air,” Miles said, as we took our seats near the window.

  “You’ll be meaning Bannerman Manor, then,” a nearby woman said conversationally. She looked older than Mom, but younger than Grandma Thompson. Her blue eyes were friendly, and her short, graying curls gave her a grandmotherly look, whether she was, or not. She reminded me of Molly, from Queen of Clean.

  “That’s right,” Miles answered.

  “That’s where I’m headed,” the woman replied cheerfully, as she got back to her knitting.

  “Really,” I said curiously.

  “Oh yes,” the friendly woman nodded. “I don’t work there regular, though I do help out now and then, same as others.”

  “And why is that?” I wondered.

  “I live on the mainland,” the woman answered. “Taking the ferry to and fro on a daily basis, is more than I care to do week in and week out.”

  “That would get tiring,” I remarked.

  “Special events now, that’s different altogether,” the chatty woman added. “It takes a good many extra hands to ready the manor for a charity ball, such as they’ve got coming up. ‘Marge,’ says my friend, Rita. ‘We’ve got our hands full, for sure, and could do with an extra pair. There’s a place for you in the servant’s quarters as always, if you’ll have it. Pay’s reasonable, meals are provided, and you can’t beat the company, or the surroundings.’ So I packed my bags, and here I am.”

  “What will you do, there?” I asked.

  “A good deal of cleaning, I imagine!” Marge chuckled. “There’s staff that works regular to see to the main house, and what’s on tour. The rest is left to itself, until there comes a use for it.”

  “So they’re expecting a lot of guests?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” Marge nodded emphatically, as her needles clicked away industriously. “It’s a far piece to travel from the mainland, in a period costume such as the guests will be wearing to the ball. The last ferry departs at five o’ clock, so it’d be over before it begun, for most of them. Then there’s those who are traveling a piece. I hear there’s a Countess invited to attend, she’s been living at the family home in Scotland with her second-cousin on her mum’s side, since her parents died and left her an orphan. Her dad drank himself into an early grave so I hear, and her mum was over fond of the stuff, herself. Got a tad too tipsy one night, and tipped right off the balcony, onto the street six floors below, rest her soul. Terrible sad, it was. I do hope the Countess learnt a thing or two from it, and doesn’t follow in their footsteps, especially hers. Tomorrow’ll be a good tour day, I imagine, as the manor’ll be at its best, in preparation. Not that there’s ever a hair out of place, Ashley Fairgrave sees to that. She’s house manager, and a fine one, at that. She’s made a success of it, and then some. The Carlisles needn’t worry themselves, with her at the helm. She loves the manor like it’s her own, I do believe. She and Edmund—Sir Edmund, that is, I best get used to saying it, or Lady Carlisle will have my apron, not that I’m likely to make her acquaintance—Ashley Fairgrave and Sir Edmund, they grew up and attended university together, you know. Very friendly they are, with one another, I mean. Miss Fairgrave was raised on the Isle by her grandmum mostly, after losing her mum. Her dad took the loss hard, and didn’t have the heart to do it himself. He remarried, and is doing well, so I hear, but Miss Fairgrave stayed. Her grandmum passed on, but not before Miss Fairgrave was all but finished school. She always did have a love for the Isle, and the manor, and Sir Edmund, so I hear. Tess, that’d be my niece, she recalls seeing them together a good deal at university. If they weren’t going together, she said she didn’t know what the difference would be. Lady Carlisle, now, I do believe she’d go back to the old class system if only she could convince the rest of us to join her. A bit old fashioned she is, in that regard. She’s quite proud of the family title, and proud in general so I understand, but she’s not stingy, and treats the staff fair enough, so long as we know our place, and keep to it. She seems fond enough of Miss Fairgrave, and one can hope that won’t change, although I dare say I’d as soon not risk having her as in-law for my own daughter. There’s little enough concern there, as she’s a good ten years his senior, with a husband and two children, and another fast on the way.”

  Marge paused very briefly to rearrange her knitting, and adjust the skein of yarn in the bag beside her.

  “The gardens are lovely, you really must take the tour,” she declared. “You’ll not find its equal, however far you may look, and you’ll not catch a glimpse but by air, as your young man says. The manor nestles in a bit of a hollow, you know. It isn’t a proper valley, more like a bowl, allowing the sun, and blocking the wind and the worst of the cold. You might wonder at the sense of building there, what with the days devoted to rain, more often than not. The manor’s yet to flood, in spite of it, elevated within the hollow as it were. The rain gathers to the creek, and is carried away. It’s a lovely spot, and quite temperate by comparison, you’ll notice. If the roses aren’t set to bloom, there’ll be plenty in the greenhouse. It’s easy enough seeing inside, being as the walls are glass, even if the doors are kept locked. Bannerman Manor is famous for its roses, you know. There’s a good many varieties won’t grow anywhere else roundabouts, they’re too particular, finicky, you might call them. The gardener is a bit finicky and easily set off himself, but he’s a whiz at developing new varieties, hybrids he calls them, so Lady Carlisle makes allowances, it’s either that or find a new one, and who’s to say anyone with like talents would be any less eccentric? It’s the mark of a genius, says my husband, though I’m not convinced that’s to blame for it in his case,” Marge chuckled. “But if it makes him happy to think it, I won’t argue. Will you be staying the night on the Isle? There’s more than one hotel, I wouldn’t recommend the Elite, it’s only the prices that are in my opinion, though the Camden Inn is right nice, so I hear. If it’s the manor you’re wishing to see, it’s either stay, or come back for the tour tomorrow afternoon, that or next week, as Friday’s off owing to the ball.”

  “Yes, we plan to stay,” Miles answered. “I imagine we will take advantage of the tour, if we find the time.”

  “Then there’s the slimmest chance we may run into one another again. I’m Marge, should we chance to meet. Marge Allenby.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Miles smiled. “I’m Miles Bannerman, and this is my wife, Anika.”

  Marge’s eyes lit with interest.

  “Now isn’t that something! There’ll be Bannermans at the manor again, after all! Of course you’ll be wanting to visit. Wouldn’t that be something if you were related, distant though it were. You do have the name, and we’re all related on the Adam side of the family, there is that. Why, you could say you are, and it’d be true enough.”

  “It is the truth,” I felt compelled to say. “The relation’s closer than Adam, though.”

  “My branch of the family emigrated to North America quite some time ago,” Miles elaborated. “Miss F
airgrave located us online, and the Carlisles extended an invitation to visit and become reacquainted.”

  “Well, now isn’t that something!” Marge exclaimed, and her needles ceased their clicking, as she gave Miles and me a look of fascination. “I dare say, that’s the last thing I expected you to say! Just wait until Rita hears who my traveling companions are! Now I’ll warn you ahead of time, the servants may seem a rather unfriendly lot. That’s only on account of Lady Carlisle, she’d be stepping back a century or two, if she could manage it, as I said. Catch them when she’s not about, and they’ll be friendly enough. You’ll be doing them a kindness if you leave them to play the part, otherwise. There’s very strict rules for servants of the main house, there are. Meet a housemaid on the stairs, don’t be a bit surprised if they turn right around and face the wall, as if they’d just as soon not make your acquaintance. They’re following rules, is all.”

  “It’s a good thing you told us,” I frowned. It was either that, or laugh, and Marge wasn’t trying to be funny. “Is there anything else we should know?”

  “Well, now…” Marge’s eyebrows knit as she considered that. “You might brush up on your tableware. There’s an impressive array at mealtimes, so I understand. Between you and me, I do believe it’s meant to intimidate. Either that, or test the unfortunate newcomer. Lady Carlisle does have her own set of standards by which to measure. Have a look at YouTube, there’s bound to be tutorials, there is for just about everything else.”

  “Thank you, Marge, we may do that,” Miles said, but probably not. Considering dinner was a formal affair at the estate when Grandma Polly was in attendance, and taking into account the many banquets we gave and attended, I was doubtful Lady Carlisle could get the best of us. Unless she made up a new utensil, which wouldn’t surprise me at this point, but I was hardly concerned. All I need do, is follow Miles’ lead. I had no doubt his upbringing exceeded any level of formality we might encounter. The same for history. Lady Carlisle wanted to live over a hundred years ago, well Miles had! Nothing actually authentic could take him by surprise. He had no desire to go back, but if she insisted…