The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [106]
Bree tried to put her at ease. “My husband once told me the cottage was a cozy place that had always charmed visitors.”
“Master Barclay may have stretched the truth a bit. Besides, you’re family, and it doesn’t seem right for you to stay there when you have all this.” When she realized that she was babbling, Mrs. Logan stepped aside. “There wasn’t time to give it a proper cleaning, but I hope once you’ve had a tour of the manor house, you’ll change your mind and perhaps spend the night here.”
Bree put a hand on the older woman’s arm. “I’m sorry about giving you so little notice of my arrival.”
“Not to worry. I think it’s grand that you’ve come at all.” She stood aside to allow Bree to enter. “Welcome to Ravenswood, Mrs. Kerr.”
“Thank you.” Bree noted the formal title and smiled to herself. She’d just been given a not-too-subtle hint that the old ways would not be easily changed. “Just a brief tour, if you don’t mind, so I can get my bearings. The flight was turbulent.” Like my life, these days. “I’ll take a more careful look after I’ve had a chance to rest.”
As Bree followed the older woman up the stairs, she forced herself to look beyond the faded floors and walls to appreciate the beautiful woodwork, the fine old plaster, the exquisite crystal chandeliers cloaked under layers of dust.
The housekeeper paused at the doorway of a huge suite of rooms. “This belonged to her ladyship.”
Despite the neglect, Bree could see what it must have looked like when the gilt bed was dressed, the chairs and settee devoid of their dust cloths, the closets filled with fashionable clothes and accessories.
Spying a family portrait, she crossed the room to study the figures of the handsome man, the beautiful woman, the boy with blue eyes and wheat-colored hair. All of them looking so happy, so carefree. Those were the innocent times. The times before . . .
“Master Barclay was the light of his mother’s eyes.” The old woman’s tone was wistful. “There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the lad. Nothing she wouldn’t give him.” She sighed. “She’d have given him the moon, had he but asked.”
Had he asked? Bree wondered. Had he, in fact, demanded? Was that when he’d begun to feel entitled to the moon and stars and to all the pleasures of the world spread out before him?
She turned away, feeling a sudden need to escape.
“ ’Twould be no trouble for me to make up these rooms for you tonight, Mrs. Kerr. This is where you belong. In her ladyship’s big, beautiful bed.”
At the housekeeper’s words, Bree gave a firm shake of her head. “No, but I do thank you, Gwynn.”
Rebuffed, Mrs. Logan turned away. “Let me show you the upper floor, then.”
Though it was an effort, Bree trailed the older woman up the stairs and peered into room after room, while the housekeeper relayed story upon story about each.
“This was where young Master Barclay used to play with his tin soldiers when the weather turned and he couldn’t ride his pony. You can see the stables from this window. Such a fine equestrian he was.”
In another room, “These had originally been used by Master Barclay’s nanny. When she was no longer needed, her ladyship had this suite painted a lovely shade of blue, Master Barclay’s favorite color, to celebrate his return from university. She wanted to give him some privacy, while keeping him close enough that she could enjoy his company. She’d hoped, of course, that he would be so content he would never want to leave.”
In a third suite the housekeeper gave an expansive sigh. “When her ladyship learned that her son had wed, she ordered this entire section of rooms outfitted for him and his bride. No expense was to be spared. New beds, new sofas and chairs, new rugs for the floors.” The older woman clapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. What was I thinking? You were that