Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(20)
Emilia strained to see how much had changed since her youth, but in the gloom, she could see no more than familiar shops and cottages. Her grandfather’s house was a mile or so north of the village, she believed, on a rather large property. Many of the hedgerows along the lane after they left the village belonged to her. Or Lord Dare. She didn’t understand the complexities of marriage trusts.
As they turned down an overgrown drive, she could see no lights anywhere in the modest three-story country house. Emilia knew word had been sent ahead to prepare for their arrival. She’d expected to dodge Mrs. Wiggs’ hugs and had looked forward to Mr. Barton’s dry commentary on the state of good help these days. Although, she supposed, now that she was a married lady, they might not treat her as the child she had been.
She and Bessie stepped into the twilight. Dare followed. Frowning at the drive’s state of abandonment, he went with the groom to see if there was a sound stable for the team.
The footman the marquess of Ashford had sent with the carriage rapped the door knocker while Emilia glanced around in bewilderment at the overgrown shrubbery and unmown lawn. No one answered.
They waited for Dare to return with the keys.
“I’m quite certain Father said the estate was paying to keep the help on,” she murmured as he fished in his coat pocket for a key ring.
“I was told the place would be ready when we arrived. I hope everyone hasn’t gone to the fair or the fight.” He said this last with a chuckle as he located a key and handed it over to the footman.
“Grandfather was proud of his roses and lawn. He would never have allowed them to reach this state. I know he’s been gone for years now, but still. . .” She glanced around in dismay. Even in the dusk, she knew the neglect wasn’t right.
Ashford’s footman inserted the key, jiggled the lock, and finally shoved the door open. It creaked on its hinges.
“We’ll set things to rights in the morning,” Dare said with masculine assurance, draping his arm over her shoulders and steering her away from the unkempt lawn.
James, Dare’s short but muscular valet, removed a carriage lantern to light their way. As the servants lit tapers and hunted for lamps to illuminate the interior, Emilia sagged in weariness at the disarray revealed.
“I should have set up housekeeping here years ago,” she murmured in dismay at the ghostly shapes of Holland linen draped over all the furniture.
“Unmarried maidens cannot set up housekeeping on their own,” Dare admonished, squeezing her shoulder. “I doubt your father or the estate executor would have allowed it, in any case. I will, however, have a sharp word with whomever is responsible for this abandonment. I saw the expenses of upkeep. I asked for them particularly when I discussed the settlements with your father.”
“If I did not remember this place so well, I would think we’d mistaken the property. But there is grandfather’s secretary desk.” She yanked the covers off the parlor chairs, sending a storm of dust into the air. “These are the same chairs I used to sit on to read.” She held up the lantern. “That is an oil painting of my grandmother behind those cobwebs. What can have happened to Mrs. Wiggs and Mr. Barton?’
Dare gestured at his valet and the footman. “Search upstairs and down, if you please. Find out if anyone appears to be in residence.”
Even Bessie was silent and wide-eyed in the gloom of a parlor shrouded in linen and layers of grime.
Unable to tolerate waiting, Emilia led the way from the parlor to investigate the remaining rooms on the ground floor. The once well-waxed mahogany chairs and dining table remained arranged as if awaiting the next meal. A layer of dust coated the polish.
The butler’s pantry that led down to the kitchen showed no indication of intrusion. The silver tea set was tarnished but still stood in its position of honor. The china and crystal inside the windowed buffet were less dusty, if not exactly gleaming.
“It doesn’t appear as if the staff robbed you and ran away.” Dare said what she was thinking.
“Mrs. Wiggs and Mr. Barton were elderly. I suppose they could have taken ill or gone home to family. But they would have left someone in charge.” Emilia led the way to the all-purpose room at the rear where her grandfather had a habit of depositing anything he didn’t know what to do with. The assorted equipment, books, and boxes appeared undisturbed.
“The dust and cobwebs aren’t overly thick.” Dare ran his finger through a layer of grime on the table. “Your grandfather has been dead for how long?”
“About five years, this winter. I am no expert on dust accumulation, however,” Emilia said, running her gloves over a bookshelf. “Besides Mrs. Wiggs and Mr. Barton, he used to have a footman and a housemaid and a cook. He did not entertain, so he had little need for more. The lesser servants might have been let go when he died.”
James clattered up from the kitchen. “No sign of break-ins, my lord. No food in the pantry. Linens still on the beds in the chambers below stairs. No obvious sign of mice or other vermin. Shall I begin carrying in bags?”
Dare lifted his eyebrows in question, leaving the decision to her.
“We have the linen in my travel trunk and the mattress in the carriage to sleep on if you’re concerned about vermin. We’d best check the state of the beds upstairs, though,” she said, knowing they had little choice.
“Would you rather call on your friends at the abbey and see if they will put us up?” he asked.