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“Go on. Have fun. Be careful of the ghost…”
She laughed with a small shake of her head. But she was already mentally searching the shelves. “See you in the morning,” she waved, pushing the door inwards.
It gave with an easy nudge and she stepped inside slowly, breathing in the wonderful smell of books, dust and furniture polish. “Oh, heaven on earth,” she said, moving through the room with a growing sense of awe.
She glided towards the nearest shelves and ran her fingers over the bindings. The books themselves were glorious. From what she could see, they covered a wide range of subjects. Many of them dated back hundreds of years; some of them were in Latin. She lifted a Shakespeare out and gently fingered the gold-edged pages.
/> “Remarkable,” she said, pushing it back. What a room! What a house! She moved down another aisle, her sense of awe growing with each step she took.
There were so many she’d love to read, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing so without asking first. Her face was marred by a frown. But asking whom? The housekeeper? Caradoc? She shied away from that.
Perhaps if she selected one and read it here, in the library? That wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, surely. She bit down on her lip as she studied the spines and finally selected an illustrated copy of War and Peace from the shelf.
“Hello, old friend,” she murmured, clutching it in her hand and re-tracing her steps. In the middle of the room, there were two armchairs. She settled in one, and flipped open the first page.
“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes.” She read, tracing her fingers over the words not to aid her reading but out of reverence for the text.
She read and she read, and she forgot completely where she was or what time it was. Only a small, unnatural sound broke the trance of the novel, and caused her to lift her gaze from the yellowing pages.
“Hello?” She said, a frown on her face. She scanned her finger down the page until she reached the numbers and then closed the book carefully. “Is someone else here?”
She stood up, her heart beating fast. She didn’t really believe in ghosts. So what had she just heard?
“Who are you?” A small voice, with perfect diction and inflection, came from amongst the books.
Finn walked towards it with a small frown on her brow.
After a few paces, she saw her. A young girl with straw-coloured hair and brown eyes so like Caradoc’s that they caused her breath to snag in her throat.
She regained her composure as quickly as she was able. “My name is Seraphina,” she said, her smile encouraging. For the other girl was meek and shy, and her cheeks were stained with tears. “What’s your name?”
The girl’s expression was loaded with haughtiness despite the fact she’d obviously been caught mid-sob.
“I am Madison Moore,” she said with an excellent imitation of the lady of the manor. “This is my house.”
“Oh,” Finn hid her smile. “What an honour it is to meet you, Miss Moore,” she said earnestly. “I drove your older brother here earlier today.”
“You? A driver?” She said in disbelief. “But you’re tiny.”
“So?” Finn laughed, crouching down in front of the pint-sized child.
“How can you drive? My dad used to say that our Dougal could fight wars with his bare hands. You don’t look like you could do that.”
“Don’t I?” Finn said, pleased at least that disbelief had overtaken the child’s sobbing. “I could, I assure you.”
“But you’re tiny,” she repeated, more emphatically.
“I’m not that small,” Finn denied. “And size doesn’t matter, in the scheme of things. Not when you’re strong like I am.”
“Are you strong?” Maddie demanded huskily.
Finn nodded with a grave sense of importance. “Very.”
“Show me.” Maddie spoke with the confidence of a child who was all too used to being obeyed.
“I can’t show you,” she insisted with a shake of her head. “At least, not here.” An idea occurred to her and it made her smile. “Perhaps tomorrow Dougal would let me demonstrate on him.”
“You could fight Dougal?”
