A Closed Heart by Oster, Camille (guided reading books TXT) 📗

“Yes,” she said and he stepped down and opened the door for her. Previous memories of her season flashed through her mind, when she’d been treated like this, privileged and cosseted. Everything was so easy when there were staff and carriages do to all the cumbersome things. These things were simply done for one. And now she stepped into the carriage where she would be transported in comfort to her destination. Everything easy and without hassle.

The ride was the smoothest of the day, the carriage springs hiding the knocks and jerks, as if she floated on a cloud. Images formed in her mind and she wondered if there was a way she could paint this feeling.

Denham Hall was as stately a house as she’d ever seen. White with rows and rows of windows. Nestled in beautiful parkland with a lake and trees that were starting to bud. It was eminently paintable. Surely someone must have painted this beauty.

The gravel crunched as they reached the house and the carriage pulled around to the main entrance. She wasn’t being taken to the servants' entrance, she noted.

Once the carriage stopped, the driver stepped down to open the door for her. A man came through the entrance, but it wasn’t Julius Hennington. Instead an older man, a retainer. He had the look of professionalism, but not utterly haughty as some tended to be, she’d found.

“Miss Brightly?” he asked with a bow of his head.

Jane nodded.

“Excellent. We’ve been expecting you. I’m glad Mr. Crawley was able to find you at the station. We thought you might have come on the four o’clock train. I hope your journey was tolerable. I am Mr. Fuller and if you should require anything, you have but to ask. A room has been prepared.”

“Oh, good,” Jane said. After the long day, both her mind and body were tired, so a room sounded marvelous. “It was a long journey, but I’ve made it.”

“And we are most pleased to receive you. However, I’m sure it was very tiring, so I will show you to your room to recover for a while. Will you be coming down for supper this evening?”

Was that expected of her? She hadn’t packed her dresses. Not that her dresses were bad by any stretch. They just weren’t fine.

Was she expected to dine with Julius every evening? “I might rest tonight,” she said apologetically. The last thing she wanted was to sit yawning through supper.

Mr. Fuller, as he introduced himself, walked with her up the stairs toward the entrance. Young men had already whipped her trunk away. The entrance hall was substantial with marble floors and statues. Roman, it seemed. Considering all the Hennington children had Roman names, it appeared to be a theme for the family. The house showed an appreciation of both Roman history and aesthetic.

It was a beautiful space, filled with beautiful things. The staircase was as fine as she’d ever seen, covered in a fine carpet running up it, and Mr. Fuller took her upstairs immediately. “This way,” he said calmly.

“It’s a beautiful house.” There was nothing else that could be said. Although she’d known the Henningtons were wealthy, it was a different thing to see such evidence of it. “I take it the former Lord Hennington was a scholar of Roman history?”

“Very much so,” Mr. Fuller said. “There was little about the Roman Empire he didn’t know.”

“Including art, I see.”

“There are many fine pieces.”

“It will be a pleasure to see some of them.”

“No doubt you will have a chance to.”

They walked down a hallway until they reached a room that overlooked the opposite side of the house. The door opened silently and smoothly to a large bedroom. Again, it wasn’t garishly decorated. A large mahogany bed and white walls. Wood and white were the predominant décor. Not a great deal of color. The carriage had had a similar color scheme, as if the person who’d chosen it didn’t like strong colors. Whether Julius Hennington, or his father, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was even Octavia Hennington, who, from what Jane had observed, seemed to have made a lot of the decisions when Jane had known them.

“It’s wonderful,” she said. Her trunk was already there, resting on a small table specifically made to support trunks. This was a guest room, after all, so trunks were generally expected.

This room was a great deal nicer than she’d expected. Frankly, she wouldn’t have objected if she’d been put in the servants’ quarters, but Julius Hennington was treating her like a cherished guest, rather than a paid provider of services. It went a little against the attitude he’d held the last time they’d been in each other’s company. But then, perhaps he couldn’t have accompanied her season and then put her in the servants’ quarters.

She did appreciate the consideration, irrespective of his reasoning behind it. It was certainly large enough that she could do some painting here. “I might,” she said, turning to Mr. Fuller, “at some point need a tarp.”

His eyebrows rose.

“With fine carpets like this, one shouldn’t take the chance.”

“Ah,” he said, finally understanding. “I take it you will be painting in your room.”

“It could happen,” she confirmed. It was like breathing for her, so unless absolutely necessary, she would only be happy if she had an easel in her room.

“We could, of course, set up a room specifically for it.”

“I think we will need one for my work with his lordship,” she said. But that wouldn’t be a room she wanted to use for herself too. It felt as if some distinction would be needed.

“I am sure we can provide an adequate space.”

“Wonderful.”

After ascertaining there was nothing further she needed, Mr. Fuller withdrew to let her refresh and rest, and she did just that.

Chapter 5

IN THE LATE AFTERNOON, Julius