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Behind the stairs was a corridor that led to the kitchen—or what had been a kitchen. It had a large stone fireplace built to accommodate roasting large joints of beef, although the chimney would need to be thoroughly cleaned before attempting to build any fire in it at all. A large work area made of hardwood stood under more grimy windows and seemed in salvageable condition, if one ignored the fact that it was covered in vermin droppings.
He watched Lavinia lean over to peer through the windows; she was careful not to brush against the worktable or the droppings. Something had caught her eye, so he followed her gaze. Through the grime he was able to make out a large cistern used for collecting rainwater, the most reliable source of potable water here in the Fens.
A door leading outside was still intact on its hinges. Lucas threw the bolt and opened it, then walked over to inspect the cistern. Surprisingly, it was in fairly good condition but was full of murky water. It would need to be emptied and cleaned. Tiles along the roof on this side of the house had been laid in such a manner that the rainwater drained in a path that funneled into the cistern.
The farmhouse, with a little effort, could at least have water and fire available for setting up lodging. And this particular room had less rot along the foundation, which was more good news. An inspection of the entire foundation would be in order, but not today.
“I suppose I must attempt the stairs if I am to inspect the upper floor,” Lavinia said, brushing at the dirt that had accumulated on her skirt during her inspection. Her gloves were dirty too.
“The stairs are in poor condition, Lavinia,” Lucas said. “Let me inspect it for you.”
“I won’t turn down an offer for you to join me, Lucas,” she replied. “But I intend on seeing everything for myself. I must, you see.”
There was such earnestness in her voice. She was a determined woman who wouldn’t be put off when her mind was made up, and he admired her for it. Very well; she would attempt the stairs. He would lead the way, then, for safety’s sake. “I’ll go first. If the treads can support my weight, they’ll have no problem supporting yours.”
“Excellent idea. Thank you, Lucas.”
The first four treads were in solid condition, but the fifth tread was missing entirely, and the sixth was broken. Lucas easily stepped from the fourth to the seventh tread and then held out his hand to assist Lavinia.
The confounded woman surprised him yet again. She yanked her skirts up to her knees, clutching them in one hand, and then set her other hand in his, exposing a pair of very nice legs Lucas couldn’t help but admire right along with her fortitude. She stretched a leg toward the seventh tread until she gained a bit of footing. Then she gripped his hand tighter, and he hoisted her over the two bad treads.
“That wasn’t too bad,” she said after puffing out a breath.
“That was the easy part.” There were still a few treads that didn’t look too damaged, but then there were two treads entirely gone and two broken treads immediately above them.
Lucas planted a foot on the first of the broken treads to test its strength, andthe simple movement broke it loose, and it fell to the entry hall below them.
“That’s not good,” Lavinia said rather unnecessarily.
He moved his foot to the second of the broken treads and applied a little weight to it. His height enabled him to stretch the distance necessary with only minor difficulty; his concern was for Lavinia. She would have to put more force behind her effort to jump, which could dislodge the tread they were currently on. Or he could lift her, but their combined weight could also dislodge it.
Lifting her was the best solution. He was certain he could toss her safely up to the landing before he found himself slipping through a hole and breaking a leg or plummeting through the stairs altogether to the floor beneath. All in a day’s work for someone who’d dug muddy, slimy trenches in torrential rain while serving as a soldier in Spain.
He tested the tread once more. It seemed to be holding, although it wobbled more than he would have preferred.
“Let go of my hand,” he said.
“What? No!” she exclaimed.
“I’m going to lift you to the landing,” Lucas explained. He should have been more specific in his instructions—especially considering the handrail was in as bad a shape as the rest of the stairs. “Simple as can be. Think of it as me lifting you up to sit on Hector’s back.”
“It suddenly dawns on me,” she said, now squeezing his hand for dear life, “that we may reach the next floor and then not be able to come back down afterward.”
At that moment, another loose piece of tread fell with a clatter. Her hand jerked in his.
“Not to worry; Artie will rescue us,” Lucas said. Lucas grinned at her, hoping he’d allayed her fears.
Her eyes widened in response to his absurd words—and then it happened.
She squeaked.
The squeak turned into a giggle and then a full-throated laugh. She still clutched his hand, but he used her laughter as an opportunity for action. While laughing himself, he wrenched his hand free and grabbed her waist, turning her laugh into a shriek, and swung her up to the upper floor landing, where she tumbled into a heap on the dusty floor. Then he jumped over the last few stairs to join her on the landing, although he tripped over her foot as he did so and fell in a sprawling heap on top of her.
Pushing himself up with his arms, still laughing, he looked down at her. The tumble had knocked her bonnet askew, loosening her hair in such a way as to create a riot of red curls about her face. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes luminous, and she was altogether lovely . . .
Her laughter faltered.
“Goodness me!” a resonant voice exclaimed, echoing off the walls and through Lucas’s brain.
