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“Just follow what everyone else does,” Bobbi suggested; a gentle prompt that she needed to be on her way.
Estelle nodded, breathed her thanks to Mrs Cranbury, who opened the door to the hallway and stood back to let her out. Once in the hallway, she hesitated and turned back to the room.
“Downstairs, third door down the corridor to the right,” Mrs Cranbury said before Estelle even uttered a word.
Estelle accepted the shawl Bobbi held out to her and draped it over her shoulders gratefully before she went in search of the main staircase.
“Good morning.”
Estelle whirled at the sound of the masculine voice directly behind her.
“Hello,” she murmured to the tall, dapperly dressed gentleman who was beaming a rather mischievous smile at her.
He bowed at her as his eyes twinkled mischievously. “I don’t believe we have met.”
“N-no,” Estelle replied, suddenly gauche and uncertain. “I only arrived last night.”
“Oh, well, that’s good then,” the man replied.
“Is it?” Estelle asked, her brows lifted.
“Yes, because I can introduce myself seeing as there is nobody else here.” He assured her.
There was so much teasing in his demeanour that Estelle wasn’t sure if he could be trusted. But, she was happy to converse with him as long as he was happy to talk to her.
“My name is Isaac.”
He seems harmless enough, she thought, finding nothing offensive or untoward in his affable persona.
In fact, it was distinctly reassuring when she was as out of depth as she was in the opulent surroundings. Happy to amuse him, and somewhat relieved that she had an ally, Estelle curtseyed. “Miss Estelle Matthews.”
“Estelle; such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he enthused.
Estelle threw him a chiding look. “Is that the best you can do?” she mused, unable to hide her giggle.
“For now.” Isaac nodded toward the stairs. “Cranbury has banged his gong. He will demand our appearance or will be apt to fall into a snit if we don’t appear to eat his delicious repast. Care to join me?”
“I would love to,” Estelle replied with huge relief.
She took his pro-offered arm and allowed him to escort her down the stairs and into a huge, semi-circular room in the centre of which stood a massive dining table.
“Here we are, the dining room,” Isaac announced unnecessarily.
“How wonderful,” she breathed as she took in the sparkling silver service laid out precisely on the table beside pristine white linen upon a highly polished and hugely ornate dark oak table. A fire roared heartily in the stone fireplace several feet away, warming up what would otherwise be a chilly room. Opposite the fireplace sat a huge bay window overlooking perfectly landscaped gardens and woodland beyond.
“How wonderful,” she breathed as she absorbed the magnificence of the lavishly decorated room, the walls of which were draped with numerous portraits of ancestors, all peering down at her with aristocratic condescension. It all added to the character of the place, which was nothing like she had expected, and was in fact delightfully charming.
“Come and help yourself, my dear,” Isaac called. He was already nosing through the various silver dishes displayed on the sideboard on the opposite side of the room. “It doesn’t look like anyone is down yet so don’t stand on ceremony. They will join us in good time, I don’t doubt.”
Estelle walked over and picked up a gold rimmed plate. Following Isaac’s actions, she began to help herself to ham, eggs, beef, game pie, toast, and bacon. Her stomach rumbled at the delicious aroma that scented the room whenever she lifted a lid, and she piled her plate high with hungry enthusiasm. So much so that she was starving by the time she turned to face the table. Suddenly, she became aware that table etiquette might be in order, and turned to Isaac.
“Where do I sit?” she whispered.
Isaac grinned at her. “Anywhere you like,” he whispered back. “Although, not at the head of the table. That is Uncle Barnabas’ place. He will think you are trying to usurp him if you try to sit there.”
Estelle sat about half way down the table, unsurprised and a little relieved when Isaac sat in the chair immediately next to her. She jumped a little when a footman appeared silently at her elbow, a large steaming pot in his hand. He held it over her cup, silently asking if she wanted the hot beverage. She had no idea what it was but nodded anyway, and smiled her thanks at the resplendent footman, who looked a little astonished for a moment before he quietly retreated.
Oblivious, Estelle began to eat. She was half-way through her meal, chatting amiably with Isaac about the weather and the house, when the door opened again. A grey-haired gentleman wandered in with a broadsheet tucked under his arm and a discontented frown on his brow.
