AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sarah wanted to object. She wanted Kenver to object more strenuously. Cranston so obviously followed Lady Trestan’s lead in disapproving of their marriage. The entire Poldene staff would be loyal to their mistress, Sarah realized, but Cranston obviously took that position very seriously.
She could unpack her own trunks. Sarah nearly said so, before realizing that this would be seen as a sign of her unfitness for her new position. A proper Poldene bride would have had a personal maid to bring with her from home. Sarah knew that. But her mother’s lady’s maid attended to both of them, and there was no one to spare. For the London season, they had hired an experienced abigail familiar with all the latest fashions. That superior servant hadn’t wished to come with them to the country, even had they been able to afford her continuing services.
Cranston moved toward the trunks. The room felt crowded with three people in it. Kenver stepped away. “You are going?” Sarah asked.
“Not for long.”
She couldn’t beg him to stay with Cranston listening. “Where is your bedchamber?” Sarah flushed. Was this question still improper now that he was her husband?
“At the end of this corridor,” Kenver answered, gesturing to the right. “Two doors beyond my father’s.”
So both his parents would be between them. How very apt. “I could go with you,” Sarah said.
Cranston harrumphed as if shocked.
Sarah’s flush deepened. She hadn’t meant she could go to his room. It had just come out that way.
“I want to check on the workmen.” Kenver moved toward the door, somehow looking younger than he had standing up at the church beside her. “I won’t be long.” He departed, leaving Sarah feeling very much alone in a strange, unwelcoming house. Except for Lady Trestan’s spy, of course. Cranston opened her trunks and began to examine her belongings. Her disapproval flowed out to fill the chamber.
Sarah walked over to the single window and looked out. There was a stretch of garden below, running up to the crags that edged the valley. She opened the casement and leaned out. The sea was to her left, the road by which they’d entered on the right. The scent of flowers rose from the plantings below.
Sarah was suddenly reminded of her first day at school. She hadn’t known that building either, or anyone in it. And yet she’d found friends and a great deal of happiness. But no one at school had been prejudiced against her from the beginning, a dry inner voice commented. Thinking of her old friends reminded Sarah that she had to write them about her marriage. What was she going to say? A sigh escaped her.
“What are all these books for?” asked Cranston.
“They are just some old favorites of mine.”
“Do you have any clothes?” the older woman inquired, without a trace of respect.
“In the other trunk.”
Cranston’s sniff of disapproval made Sarah glad she had the fashionable dresses from her London season. “Have you been at Poldene long?” she asked.
“More than thirty years. I came with Lady Trestan when she married.”
“Oh, how nice.”
“For a bit. I was her ladyship’s maid until she hired her hoity-toity London dresser.” Cranston’s tone was sour and bitter.
Perhaps she wasn’t completely Lady Trestan’s creature then, Sarah thought. “Well, you will be able to introduce me to the staff.”
“I don’t see that it’s my place to be introducing you.” Cranston held up a gown that Sarah adored and eyed it with disdain before putting it into the wardrobe.
Feeling that she couldn’t bear to stay in this small room with this surly person for a moment longer, Sarah said, “Could you tell me how to find the library?”
“What would you be wanting that for?”
“There are no shelves in here. I will look for a place to put my books.”
“I don’t know that you’ll be allowed…”
“I’ll ask permission first, of course,” Sarah interrupted. She met Cranston’s sullen gaze and waited.
Finally, grudgingly, the woman gave her directions. Sarah slipped out and made her quick, furtive way downstairs. Cranston might have steered her wrong, she knew. But if she had, she would simply search on her own.
This turned out to be unnecessary. Sarah found the double doors Cranston had mentioned and walked into a large parlor fitted out with bookshelves. It was not a grand library with soaring ceilings and upper galleries, but there were books, a small desk, and some comfortable armchairs arranged around the fireplace. Like all the rooms she’d seen at Poldene, it was well kept. The furniture gleamed with polish; the air was fresh. Yet the space felt untenanted, and Sarah believed Kenver’s assertion that the family rarely came here.
She went to gaze out one of the tall windows and found that it overlooked the back terrace and the sea in the distance—a potential escape route should one be needed. The ground was only a few feet below. Feeling as if an escape route was exactly what she wanted just now, Sarah sank into an armchair and clasped her trembling hands. She hoped she’d at least discovered a refuge in this unwelcoming place.
