Lost in La La Land(29)

“We can’t have that. I shall give you the grand tour, if you like.”

“I would love that. And just so you’re aware, I adore old houses and creepy stairwells and secret passages. I wish to see it all.”

“Of course you do.” He laughed. “And as I am as in the dark about the house as you, we shall have to hire out the tour to a proper guide.” He offered me his arm.

“But there’s a door already open.” I pointed to his room.

“Oh yes, be my guest. Have a look. Shall I wait out here so the invasion of my privacy is satisfying to you?”

“Please do.” I grinned and entered the room, adoring the creak and groan of the heavy door as if no one had opened it this wide in ages.

The room was stark of clothing and furnishings, just a bed and a bureau. The window was dusty and the drapes tattered. There was far too much space, suggesting a need for more fixtures. The fireplace seemed so far from the bed, I doubted any of the heat from it would be felt.

“I think this is the worst room in the house,” he spoke loudly from the shadows of the hall where he remained. “So naturally it’s mine.”

“Commonplace for wealthy people to improve their private room last. The rest of the house is open to the public. Logically, they would want to update places that are seen first, giving the impression the house was entirely beautiful.”

“That makes sense and yet it does not comfort me to know I will be sleeping in the forgotten room.” He acted genuinely wounded but I was sure he wasn't.

“You, who slept on a ship you described as barely fit for service, sharing your cot with other men and somehow survived?”

“Indeed. You were paying better attention than I believed.” He chuckled, stepping into the room. I spun, meeting his gaze, both of us smiling. In that moment, something happened.

It might have been the way the dim light of the gray day hit his face or the way he smiled at me with that gleam in his eyes. I might have been that we had spent so much time together, talking and laughing and building a comfort I’d never known with another man.

Whatever it was, in that moment, my heart began to beat again—not the normal heartbeat one required to survive, but the one that fluttered and suggested I felt things I wasn't certain of.

“Shall we continue this tour before we have to explain our activities?” His smile suggested our actions would be frowned upon, as if there was something to them. A hint of feeling that neither of us was admitting to but also not denying. We spoke of it in looks and stares and side-glances that might not have been intended to be seen.

I had obviously ignored the feelings until this very moment, maybe distracted by it all. And now they were in my face and they were written on my face and they were controlling the heart in my chest.

I forced a calm smile across my lips and walked to him, taking his arm and pretending I didn't feel the heat of him next to me or the way my fingers trembled.

He walked to the stairs, shouting down them in the least gentlemanly way I’d ever seen him act. It was a common thing to do in one’s house and yet completely uncivilized and lazy. “Mrs. Humboldt!”

“Sir?” She popped her head out from around a corner down the hall from us.

“We’d like all the doors in the house opened and a tour if you have a moment.”

“Of course.” Her eyes widened and she hopped to it, rushing to the doors, clicking open each metal latch and cracking the door for us. Silver light from the cloudy day slipped into the halls, revealing dust dancing on the subtly moving air inside.

Each room had a fire lit and a repeating theme: bed, bureau, and wardrobe. The windows were dusted and the drapes beaten.

Each room smelled of furniture polish and age.

When we made our way back to the housekeeper on the stairs after seeing all the upper floor’s bedrooms, Wentworth narrowed his gaze. “And the secret passages?”

“What’s that?” She didn't speak to him in the same manner as the housekeepers at Uppercross or Kellynch Hall did. She must have known him before coming here.

“Out with it, old woman. I know you know.” He didn't speak to her the same way any lord of the manor did either.

“I’ve warned ya about calling me old woman.” She turned on her heel and headed for the master’s suite. “Are you coming?” She hurried down the hall and turned right when she entered the room, disappearing.

Wentworth and I hurried after her but paused in the doorway, confused.

She popped her head out from a wall that was made to look like it met the brick of the fireplace, when in truth there was a slight gap, enough for her to squeeze through. “Hurry up then. I haven’t got all day.”

Wentworth’s eyes were wide when he escorted me to the gap and allowed me to go first, after the housekeeper. I glanced back nervously as I slid between the wall and brick.

He barely fit between, making a scuffing noise as he dragged himself through. When we arrived at the landing of a secret staircase, the narrow hall opened up.

“I had no idea.” He spun in a circle. “Is this an escape route?”

“Aye, in case the house were to be invaded. Each room has one, a door behind the fireplace. The stairs all lead to the other rooms.” She pointed at the many tiny staircases shooting off this one. “And this hall leads to the courtyard at the right of the house, nearest the stables.”