by Olsen, Lisa
“Do you really like it up here all by yourself?”
“Yeah, it’s neat. I can see the whole backyard from here.” Running to a padded window seat, he pressed his nose to the glass, breath steaming against the cold panes.
Sara looked out, expecting to see the neat rows of flowers she’d seen the night before, stunned to find the gardens overrun and choked with weeds. It wasn’t quite the same vantage point as the view from her window, but it was hard to imagine the view right outside hers would be so well maintained and not the formal gardens behind the house.
“Katie… how long have the gardens been run down like this?”
“For quite a long time, my Lady. His Lordship wasn’t in residence most of the time and didn’t think it necessary to keep up.”
“Then they’re all like this? Even outside my window?” Sara frowned. How could that be? Could it have been a trick of the moonlight? What about the heady floral scent wafting in the window the night before?
“I’m afraid so. Mrs. Poole could send for the old gardener if you like, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take it on again,” Katie offered and Sara nodded absently, chalking it up to fatigue.
“I’ll talk to Mrs. Poole about it. I guess there’s a lot of work to be done to get this place back up to fighting trim. What do you say, Jack? Ready to come down to breakfast and then do a bit of exploring?”
Jack gave a longing look to his pile of books. “I’m not all that hungry.”
Sara looped her arm through his, leading him towards the door. “Then you can keep me company while I eat, and maybe some nutrition will rub off on you through osmosis or something.”
“That really isn’t how osmosis works, Mom.” How a boy his age had any idea what osmosis entailed was beyond her, but she took it as par for the course where Jack was involved.
Katie had finished with the bed and waited by the door. “Shall I show you to the morning room then?”
“If that’s where we’ll find breakfast, then lead on.” Making a mental map of the twists and turns it took to get down to the main level again, Sara was surprised by how bright the rooms were on the main floor, a sharp contrast to the mist shrouded gloom the night before. It probably had to do with the early morning sunlight pouring through all the tall windows. The cheery light brightened the heavily wood paneled rooms, but at the same time, showed every sign of age and wear.
The morning room boasted more yellow wallpaper with a faded green stripe. A table that could easily seat ten was laid out with two place settings, a row of silver chafing dishes set on the adjoining sideboard.
“Sure you’re not hungry? It looks like they put on quite a spread,” Sara lifted the lid from the first tray which revealed a pan of fluffy scrambled eggs. “How about I make you a plate and you can try a little of everything?” Not taking no for an answer, she loaded them both up with eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, beans, fried potatoes, some kind of fish and fresh tomato slices.
“I can’t eat that,” Jack mumbled as she slid the plate in front of him.
“Sure you can. Just taste everything, that’s all I ask. You don’t have to eat anything you don’t like.”
“I can already tell I don’t like the fish… it’s looking at me.”
“Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure? You like fish, just try it.” Truth be told, she wasn’t much of a fish eater either, but it was a new experience to be savored. “I’ll do it with you, on the count of three…” They each prepped a bite of the fish; Jack’s the smallest flake that would stay on the fork, while she counted down. It was smoky and a little too salty, not bad, but definitely weird for breakfast. While they made faces at each other across the table, Mrs. Poole bustled in.
“Is everything to your liking, my Lady?” she asked, a pucker of concern on her brow.
“Oh, it’s great, isn’t it, Jack?” Sara prompted and Jack muttered something noncommittal, his mouth already full of bacon. “We’re not used to so much food so early in the morning, I’m afraid most of this is going to go to waste.”
“Don’t trouble yourself on that account, we can discuss the menu in greater detail when you’ve had time to settle in,” she waved it away. “Was everything satisfactory with your night’s stay?”
Katie’s eyes flew wide from her perch by the door and Sara was quick to respond, not wanting the poor girl to think she would be blamed for the freezing temperature from her own stupidity.
“Oh yes, definitely, I was very comfortable, thanks for asking. Jack seems to like his room too and I’m pretty sure Joanie slept well considering she’s not up yet,” Sara chuckled.
“Katie, go and take a tray up to Miss Wilson, I’ll see to their needs here,” Mrs. Poole instructed, and the girl gave a quick bob.
Sara flashed the maid a quick smile. “Tell you what, show up with a cup of coffee, strong and sweet and she’ll be your friend for life.”
Katie barely had time to offer a shy smile in reply when Joanie shuffled in with a yawn, stealing a piece of toast from Sara’s plate before she plopped down in the chair next to her.
Mrs. Poole suffered a minor fit of apoplexy at the breach in etiquette before she found her voice. “I apologize, my Lady, we didn’t expect Sir Jack to be joining you for breakfast. Shall I get you a plate, Miss Wilson?”
“No, I’m good with this,” Joanie replied around a mouthful of buttery toast. “So, what’s on the agenda today? Shopping? Hey, squirt,” she winked at Jack who tried winking back, but ended up with more of a double blink.
Mrs. Poole looked almost physically ill as crumbs dropped directly on the tabletop, but Katie came to the rescue, slipping a tea saucer at her place setting which was better than nothing.
“I don’t know, I thought we’d get a good look at the place in the daylight and then maybe take a ride into the village, what do you think?” Sara suggested, only to be contradicted by Mrs. Poole.
“You’ve an appointment with Mr. Lowesley at half past ten.”
“Who’s that?” Joanie asked, filching a piece of bacon and Sara scooted her plate a little closer, hoping that would appease Mrs. Poole’s sense of decorum.
“My lawyer,” Sara recalled. “I forgot about him, I made the appointment over a week ago, but that’s fine. Do you think I could borrow the keys to the car? Oh, is that our car by the way or did you rent it?”
“That is your car indeed, but that won’t be necessary, Lowesley will come to you.”
“Oh, I was looking forward to going in to the village; we didn’t get to see much of it last night.” Not that there was much of a rush, she supposed, and it would give her more time to check out the house.
“Yeah, is it always that foggy after dark?” Joanie chimed in and Mrs. Poole nodded.
“We do see our share of it this time of year.”
“What am I going to do all day?” Jack asked, more pushing the food around on his plate than eating it anymore. “Do I have to meet with the boring old lawyer too?”
“No, kiddo. You’ve got the whole day to do whatever you want.”
“Is there a TV here?” he perked up at the idea until he caught Mrs. Poole’s shake of the head.
“And I couldn’t find any wi-fi here either,” Joanie’s nose scrunched up in disapproval and Sara realized she’d completely forgotten to plug in her laptop to charge, it hadn’t occurred to her to make sure the house had internet. Hopefully she could still check email on her phone.
“So… no TV, no video games…” Jack looked like someone had run over a puppy right in front of him and Sara scooted out of her chair to wrap an arm around his shoulders.
“Why don’t you go play outside?”
“Play what?” he blinked.
“Just… play. Go exploring; you saw those gardens out back.”
“With all due respect, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, my Lady,” Mrs. Poole interceded. “The gardens are in a dreadful state, and could be quite dangerous.”
That brought Sara up short
. “Oh. Well, you can go exploring inside then.”
“Actually, the same is true for much of the house. It’s been in a terrible state ever since Sir Stephen decided to live abroad.”
“Tell you what, I’ll keep you company, squirt,” Joanie volunteered. “I’ve got some games on my computer you haven’t seen before. I might even be able to beat you for once.”
“Yeah?” Jack brightened considerably.
“I’ve still got an hour or so until the lawyer gets here, we can spend it looking around the safe parts of the house. Plus there’s that book project you were working on, I’m sure there’s enough to keep you busy this morning, and then after lunch we’ll all go exploring outside together, that should be plenty safe,” Sara added, mouthing a thank you to Joanie over the top of his head.
“My Lady…” Mrs. Poole started to object, but Sara put her foot down. It was their house after all.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine with us there; we’ll be careful, I promise. Now… who wants to check out the library with me?”
Chapter Three
The tour of the main floor didn’t thrill Jack too much, Sara could tell, but she was interested in the incredible attention to detail in the craftsmanship of the manor house. Sure it needed new wallpaper and paint, and most of the furnishings were faded and worn, but there was real potential to make it a stunning showplace if someone poured a little bit of sweat and elbow grease into it. And money of course… but that shouldn’t be a problem; she’d have to clarify the size of the estate with the lawyer when he came.
“How come the last guy, what was his name… the previous Lord Darling, how come he decided not to live here?” Sara asked Mrs. Poole, who conducted them through the house at her insistence while Katie slipped upstairs to take care of the bedrooms. Sara itched to get a look at the locked rooms Mrs. Poole deemed as ‘unsafe’, but decided not to make an issue of it for the moment.
“Sir Stephen decided to make his home in France as I understand it. I can’t imagine why,” she sniffed in disapproval. “I only saw the man a few times in his adult life after he came into his inheritance. He never took a shine to this place the way we’d hoped,” she sighed heavily. “The estate was allowed to fall into a dreadful state, as you can see, without a proper staff to care for it.”
“But why? Wasn’t he made of money?” Joanie asked. “It seems like he could have ponied up a little bit of cash to keep the place afloat.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Poole nodded, “but it’s not for us to question our betters, dear,” she chided gently, and Sara grabbed hold of Joanie’s arm, giving it a squeeze before the fiery redhead gave the older woman an earful on who she thought was her better.
“Are these all family portraits?” Sara changed the subject, turning their attention to a wall of oil paintings in heavy gilt frames covering an entire wall of the library.
“That’s right, dating back to Sir Archibald Darling who built the house in seventeen eighty-seven. Here you see Lady Margaret, whom I think you’ll agree you bear a striking resemblance to.”
Sara tipped her head back to get a look at the painting, but besides dark hair and blue eyes, she didn’t think she looked all that much like her ancestor.
“Oh yeah, I definitely see it around the mouth,” Joanie nodded, stepping back to get a better look.
“I don’t see it.”
“I’m not saying you could play identical cousins in a wacky sitcom, but you definitely look related,” Joanie shrugged.
“Is the last Lord Darling up here too?” Sara wondered aloud.
“Yes, he’s here,” Mrs. Poole directed them to a portrait of a severe looking man in his early thirties, most of his hair already gone. He reminded Sara of a hawk or some other bird of prey in the way his eyes were so tightly focused, like he wouldn’t let anything slip by him.
“Yeah, that guy definitely looks like a douche,” Joanie murmured beside her.
Sara spent a few minutes studying the pictures before she realized Jack wasn’t with them. Whirling around, she breathed a sigh of relief at finding him curled up in an overstuffed chair, an open book propped on his lap. “Jack’s a big reader, so please let me know if any of these books are off limits and I’ll make sure he understands.”
“Some of the books aren’t in very good condition, but the rare volumes are under glass in the study. It does me good to see a lad with a book on his knee instead of those infernal noise contraptions,” Mrs. Poole chuckled and Sara suddenly remembered she had a question.
“Is there any internet connection at all? Even dial up?”
“No, we haven’t been set up for it, but I could arrange for an installation if you like, my Lady. Am I to assume you wish to install a television as well?”
“You assume correctly,” Sara nodded. “At least three or four, I’ll have to take a look at the rest of the space. After I meet with the whatshisname lawyer guy, I’ll make up a list of some of the things we’ll be needing. Do you have some time to meet with me later this afternoon?”
“Of course, my Lady, as you wish. I’ve taken the liberty of advertising for a proper cook as well. Would Thursday morning be a suitable time for you to conduct interviews, or would you like me to handle the hiring?”
“Oh… I’m sure whoever you pick will be fine. Plus I can always pitch in if needed, I know how to make all of Jack’s favorites,” Sara smiled, though she knew that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear from the expression on the old woman’s face. She was saved from having to find something more suitable to say by the appearance of Thomas at the door.
“Mr. Lowesley to see you, my Lady. I put him in the study, I hope that will suit.”
“Thanks, Thomas. Yes, that’ll be fine… if you can remind me which way the study is again?” Sara gave him a sheepish grin.
*
It was strange to preside over the immense wooden desk in the study. Sara felt like she should be on the opposite side of it, meeting with the lawyer, but he’d already taken a seat in one of the high backed chairs, leather attaché case perched on his knees. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was taking a tour of the mansion. Did Thomas ask if you wanted something to drink or anything?” she asked, remembering her manners.
“Not at all, my Lady, my needs have been well seen to. I’m Mr. Lowesley, your solicitor,” he offered a hand, hurrying to his feet. He exuded an air of conservative success in a striped, three-piece suit and very shiny black shoes.
“I’m Sara Bailey, nice to meet you,” she took his hand with a warm smile. “Please have a seat.”
“That would be Sara Darling,” he corrected as he retook his seat, only after she sat behind the desk.
“Well, I haven’t been for years, but I was thinking about taking my maiden name back again now that I’m divorced.” It sounded lighter to her, less weighted down by baggage.
“That’s fortunate, because one of the stipulations of your taking charge of the estate is for you and your son to take the family name. I’ve taken the liberty of having the documents drawn up for you.” With a click, he opened his case and handed over a sheaf of papers, flagged in the appropriate areas for her signature on the change of name for the both of them.
“Oh…” Sara accepted the papers, a little taken aback by the stipulation. Still, it was something she’d been thinking about doing anyway, she just wished she’d had a chance to talk to Jack about it first. When Peter found out about it, he was going to flip his lid… “Okay then, one down, how many to go?” she asked, as she slid the signed documents back across the desk.
“Quite a few more, I’m afraid,” he smiled, carefully filing it away and reaching for the next. “This contract stipulates that you must make the house your primary residence, with provisions of course for vacations and the like.”
Sara frowned over that one, skimming over the language that read like Greek. “How come the last guy didn’t have to do that?” He’d been living in France and nobody’d batted an eye.
“It’s precise
ly because of Sir Stephen’s negligence that this codicil was added by the executor. I hope you can appreciate the need for a strong hand at the helm here, Darling Park can’t be allowed to languish in such a condition; it devalues the estate.”
It seemed like that would be for the owner to decide. “Who’s the executor?”
“That would be me,” Lowesley drew himself up importantly, as if he expected her to challenge that authority. “I can show you the authorization if you like.”
“No, it’s fine.” At least for the moment. If the time came that she wanted to move on, then she could deal with fighting it, and she assumed that Jack could come to his own decision about it when he was older. Sara signed the papers and handed them over, ready for the next revelation.
“Very good,” he offered the next document. “You must administer, or elect a representative to administer the Darlington Preservation Council. No personal effort is required if you prefer to have our office see to it, but this stipulates that you will agree to a series of sponsored events to help stimulate the local economy which relies a great deal on seasonal tourism.”
“Oh, I think that’s a great idea! I’d love to get involved in the community and get to know everyone,” Sara didn’t hesitate at that one, signing it right away. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be responsible for ‘stimulating an economy’ all on her own, but with such a large estate, she could hardly begrudge the village a little help. “Wasn’t that the way it was done in the olden days? The big house would put on local fairs and stuff, right? That sounds like a lot of fun!”
“Indeed, I’m very glad to hear you’re keen on the idea of resurrecting those traditions,” Lowesley’s manner eased a little, some of the starch going out of his spine.
“Maybe we can even start some new ones,” Sara smiled back, already envisioning herself as a pillar of the community. She’d probably have to buy a hat…