Since it appeared the young girl was assigned the task of helping her, Tilly thought it was rude not to know the girl’s name.
“I am Sarah Poole, milady,” the maid responded to Tilly’s query, her eyes downcast.
Tilly tilted the maid’s chin upward so that Sarah was forced to look her in the eyes. “Your face is too lovely to hide,” she said, smiling warmly. Her compliment brought a blush to the girl’s cheeks. She guessed Sarah was from England but was not familiar enough with accents to know from which part. She was a pretty girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen years of age. Her dark brown hair and eyes were a sharp contrast to her porcelain skin. To some, she may have appeared mousy. Sarah’s smile made her eyes sparkle, and the little dimples in her cheeks were most becoming. The male servants must be infatuated with the shy girl.
Sarah interrupted her thoughts. “If it pleases milady, I can help her prepare for the day,” she offered.
Tilly nodded. Unfortunately, she needed all the help she could get. She had no clue how she was supposed to don the many layers of clothing without assistance. She also did not know what kind of hairstyle was considered proper. She was certain she could not pull her hair into a ponytail and be done with it. Sarah helped her into the same dress she wore the day before, since she possessed no other garments.
Taking a seat at the dressing table, she stared into the mirror and watched Sarah arrange her hair into a very becoming chignon. When the maid finished, Tilly admired her reflection. “You are amazing,” she said. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Our mistress’ maid was from France,” Sarah said. “I reminded her of her little sister, so she was kind to me and taught me things. I have always dreamt of being a lady’s maid one day.”
Tilly recalled reading somewhere that the lady’s maid was in the upper echelon of servants. “Where is the lady’s maid now?” she asked.
“She left when our poor mistress passed,” Sarah replied sadly. Apparently, Benjamin’s wife Mary was beloved by others besides her husband.
“What do you do then?”
“I am a housemaid, although I have been asked to attend you,” she said. Suddenly, she looked guilty. Tilly suspected the maid had been asked to do more than help her dress and fix her hair.
She let it pass. To her surprise, she was starving. While the extravagant spread the previous evening left her stomach bulging, it was the only substantial meal she had that day. She asked Sarah if she might have a bite to eat. The maid seemed flustered, as if she had forgotten something important.
She was escorted to a small breakfast room down a short hallway near her suite. It was less formal than the state dining room, much to her delight. Arched windows along one wall allowed the morning sun to flood the room with bright sunlight. A cozy fire burned in the fireplace. The sage green walls complimented the rich wood of a rectangular dining table that seated a smaller party of eight. She happily saw that only one portrait hung in the room, a nice landscape scene that dominated an entire wall. She had grown weary of the scowling visages of deceased Campbells that typically decorated the rooms.
She was surprised to see that she would dine alone. Sarah told her Benjamin frequently dined at dawn and was immediately off to attend matters as lord of the estate.
The meal was less elaborate than the multi-course affair of the previous evening. Only one footman arrived, delivering a modest meal of bitter tea and an assortment of fresh bread and rolls. As she nibbled the food, she longed for bacon and eggs. It was mid-morning, though. Perhaps heartier fare was served earlier if one had awakened at a normal hour.
Her thoughts drifted to Benjamin. Did he have a large breakfast before he left to attend the needs of his tenants? She shook her head. He should be the last of her concerns right now.
After she ate breakfast, she had no idea what to do. Finding herself without any occupation at all was just as unsettling in 1801 as it was in her own time.
Sarah returned and offered to give a tour. Tilly readily agreed. Since her previous tour was limited to the few rooms that had been restored, she was eager to see the house in all its 19th century glory. She felt a sense of déjà vu when the maid guided her around the second floor.
Just as she was in her own time, Tilly was in awe of the grandeur. Sarah first showed her the drawing rooms in which ladies and gentlemen separately retired after dinner. Each sex had a small, private room located near the state dining room that provided convenient spots for après dinner refreshment. Furnished identically in ornate, gilded pieces, the rooms did not seem comfortable at all. Tilly could not imagine sitting for long periods in the stiff chairs or relaxing on the chaises by the fire. Give me a flat-screen TV and a bowl of popcorn any day, she thought wryly as they exited the rooms.
Guests could also entertain themselves in the adjoining music room, where a pianoforte and harp could be used by the refined ladies of the day. The room had an airy look with its soft green walls and white crown molding. Tilly admired the celestial scene painted onto the ceiling. Rosy-cheeked cherubs played flutes and harps while a heavenly angel choir sang. It lifted her spirits and made her wish she knew how to play an instrument.
She immediately smelled tobacco upon entering the adjacent gentlemen’s billiard room. Deep burgundy-colored walls and heavy emerald green drapes of rich velvet lent a distinctly masculine feel to the room. A massive billiard table sat in the center of the room, with four leather chairs arranged in a ring around the fireplace. Pointing to low-slung mahogany table in front of the chairs, Sarah said, “The gentlemen usually have a glass of whisky here and discuss the goings on of the day. It is a good place to entertain male guests.”
Sarah guided them from the entertainment rooms to a long hallway. Placing her hand on a wooden door, she said, “Eight guest rooms are located here. Usually, the single men in a party stay in this area.” She took a few steps forward and pointed to another door. “We have another hallway of rooms where the single ladies may stay. That door has a lock. The ladies feel safe.”
She waved her hand toward the end of the hallway, where Tilly spotted the door to the state apartment. Sarah shook her head and informed her that no one would dare enter the room. “It is for the king,” she whispered. “Only Mr. Murphy and Mrs. Keith are allowed in those chambers. They keep the rooms clean for His Majesty, should he ever wish to visit us.”
They returned to the front of the house and crossed the hallway opposite the grand staircase. Sarah indicated that, in addition to Tilly’s room, there were seven other suites of rooms for guests down the same hallway.
“Why are there so many rooms in each suite?” Tilly asked. “It seems like a huge waste of space for one person.
“It was Mr. Malcolm Campbell’s design – His Grace, that is,” she clarified. “He wanted the rooms to be used by married couples or single persons of distinction. The first room is a receiving room for visitors. The next room is the lady’s bedchamber, or it may be used by a personal attendant. Then, you have a dressing room. We could rearrange that room into a private sitting room for the gentleman and his wife, if they prefer. Finally, you have the main bed chamber. The gentleman usually sleeps there, although we have had some married couples who prefer to sleep together.” Sarah blushed.
Was it scandalous for a husband and wife to share the same bed? “So, the married couple do not always sleep together?” Tilly asked.
Sarah laughed. “Not always.” She added in hushed tones, “I heard His Grace once brought a couple here who refused to share a suite. The lady stayed in a suite on one end of the hall. The gentleman stayed in a suite at the opposite end!”
“You said the suites were also used by single persons of distinction,” she said, recalling something that Sarah mentioned off hand. “What does that mean?”
“Do you remember the hallway of rooms with the locked door?” the maid asked. At Tilly’s nod, she continued, “Usually, single ladies stay there if they do not possess a title or fortune. His Grace intended the suites
to be used by persons of noble birth.” Sarah tilted her head to the side. “If I may be so bold, milady does not sound English. Are you from an important family in a foreign land?”
Tilly keenly felt the honor Benjamin bestowed upon her by placing her in the Rose Room, yet she had no desire to discuss it with the inquisitive girl. Clearing her throat, she was uncertain how to reply. She glanced up and noticed that they stood in front of the door to what she hoped was the library. “What room is this?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.
Sarah swung open the door to reveal a room filled with light. With a smile, she beckoned Tilly to follow her.
“It is wonderful!” Tilly exclaimed. The oak shelves were stuffed with books. It seemed that the family had not yet sold selected volumes to raise needed funds. As Mr. Douglas indicated during the tour, that unfortunate event would happen in the future. For now, the collection was intact.
She strode into a room that was arranged for reading and relaxation. When she toured the castle yesterday, it had a few tables and a chaise lounge or two. It was arranged for presentation. In this time, though, the guests were expected to enjoy the room so chairs had been assembled around the fireplace. Chaise lounges lined the walls underneath the windows. Two tall tables stood in the center of the room, in case a guest wanted to closely examine any of the books proudly displayed upon the shelves. Tilly was in heaven.
“Can you read, milady?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. Can you?” Tilly inquired. She turned to see that Sarah’s face had turned a shade of crimson. “What’s the matter?”
“It is not your concern. Would it please milady to spend some time in the library?”
“Yes, very much.”
Sarah seemed relieved. “I will leave you alone to enjoy the room then,” she said.
Tilly smiled and sent the maid on her way. Like Mrs. Keith, Sarah probably had other tasks besides babysitting her.
It did not escape her notice that the tour was restricted to the second floor. Mr. Douglas said the family used the first floor. If that was true, it was probably off limits to a guest like her.
“A guest like me…” she said aloud. She suspected she was the first time traveler to walk the halls. She hoped her stay would be short.
∞
Enjoying her solitude, Tilly strolled around the library. She itched to open every single book. She could only imagine what fantastic treasures lay on the shelves.
Finally, she selected a book and walked toward one of the chaises by the windows. She stared outside for a few moments. She faced the front of the castle, a new vantage point. She could see the gravel-lined entrance that was flanked by majestic oaks on each side. It was an impressive view, no matter when one saw it.
Then, she opened the book – and promptly shut it. She closed her eyes. This cannot be, she thought.
She opened her eyes and carefully turned the first few pages. Yes, it was true. She held a first edition book from Robert Burns. It was the same book she saw yesterday. The pages were white and uncut. The cover of the book was light blue, not the dull, weathered gray from the previous day. Well, it is relatively new, she scolded herself. She glanced at the first page and saw the autograph, though she needed no further confirmation of its authenticity.
She tried to read a few pages but struggled with the text. She was unfamiliar with the flow of the language and guessed some parts might be in Gaelic. Even if she was fluent, she doubted it would have mattered. Her mind reeled at the dramatic shift in time. How could it be that she held the same book? The pages were untarnished by time, unlike its future, ragged self she saw just yesterday. She finally gave up and returned the book to its home on the shelf.
She heard a faint noise behind her. Turning, she discovered she had an audience. A little boy with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes peeked from the hallway. He smiled at her, revealing a set of adorable dimples in his chubby cheeks.
Tilly returned the smile and hoped she would not frighten him. She noticed he carried a small book in his hands. “Would you like me to read to you?” she asked.
The little boy nodded and emerged from his hiding place. He walked into the room, clearly wary. He clumsily pulled himself onto one of the chaises and patted a spot beside him. Grinning broadly, he offered the book to her.
She happily joined him. He leaned close to her so that he could get a better look at the book. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Stephen,” he replied softly. Now that he was closer to her, she noticed the gap in his upper teeth. She wondered if the tooth fell out naturally or was knocked out by another child.
“It is nice to meet you, Stephen,” she said, throwing caution to the wind and using his first name. “My name is Tilly.”
“Silly?” he asked, grinning wickedly.
She laughed. “No, Tilly – with a T,” she said.
He giggled and pointed to the book. “We look?” he asked.
She nodded. She discovered it was a picture book that told the story of a great knight. The illustration was remarkable. The artist who drew the pictures captured every detail in the richest colors she had ever seen. She watched while Stephen studied each picture. The book was obviously a favorite.
The last page showed the brave knight riding off with the beautiful, fair maiden. Stephen pointed to the flame-haired woman and exclaimed, “Mama!”
She felt a lump form in her throat as she drew him into a hug. He smelled so good – of green grass, dirt…little boy things. She had almost forgotten that sweet smell. Her heart broke a little. Memories of her beloved John and Anna rushed forward, deepening the ache in her chest. How many times had she read stories to her children while she held them close?
She heard someone call his name. She noticed the guilty look upon his face and suspected he slipped away from his keeper. He quickly slid from the chaise and grabbed the book from her lap. He dashed toward the door, then stopped abruptly. He spun around and offered her a most courtly bow. “Thank you, milady,” he said, flashing a huge smile before running away.
Tilly chuckled at his precociousness. Benjamin said he had five children, four boys and a baby girl. Was Stephen one of his children? She did not notice a resemblance in coloring. That mischievous smile reminded her of his father, though.
Shaking her head, she strode to the bookshelves and scanned the titles. While a happy moment, Stephen’s visit was a distraction from what should be her real purpose. Her mother always told her, if she did not know the answer to something, she should search for it in a book. She removed whatever science books she could find and placed them on a table. She did not expect to find a practical guide to the use of wormholes. That would truly be a revelation.
It was improbable that the books held some secret to her situation. However, she desperately wanted to find something, anything that could be useful in explaining what happened to her. She had no other ideas but knew one thing for certain: she must find a way home. After all, that’s what you were supposed to do, right? she asked herself. She hastily pushed aside the thought that no family anxiously awaited her return for she was just as alone in this world as she was in her own.
Fifteen
After several hours, Tilly succeeded in covering her hands with the dust and dirt that had accumulated in what must be a little-used corner of the library. It was in this state that Mrs. Keith found her. “Mrs. Munro!” the housekeeper exclaimed upon seeing her blackened hands. “What have you done?”
“I wanted to read the books,” Tilly said. “The library is very impressive.”
“Well, ‘tis a sad thing how filthy this library has become,” Mrs. Keith said. She shook her head. “I shall have some maids thoroughly clean it. In the meantime, we should wash your hands.”
She ushered her mistress to her room. As she scrubbed Tilly’s hands with lavender-scented soap and water from the basin in the dressing room, Mrs. Keith said, “I am most sorry, Mrs. Munro.”
“Oh, it is all right,” she replied,
drying her hands with the proffered towel. She assumed Mrs. Keith was embarrassed by the dust. “It must be a daunting task to maintain the household.”
“Oh, aye, but I was referring to your loss,” Mrs. Keith said patiently. She plucked at the sleeve of Tilly’s gown. “I wish you would have told me. I could have searched for a more suitable gown. Rest assured, we will have something more appropriate for you before the meal this evening.”
Tilly was thoroughly confused but simply nodded her head. For the first time, she noticed a black shawl draped across one of the chairs beside the fireplace.
Mrs. Keith followed her gaze. She strode across the room and returned with the garment, delicately placing it upon Tilly’s shoulders. “We women bear great burdens,” she said. “We can always handle them better than men, aye?”
“Thank you for your kindness.”
The housekeeper nodded. She glanced at a little watch that dangled from a gold chain attached to her leather belt. “Shall I send up a tray for you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
With that, the woman scurried from the room. If Mrs. Keith knew the tale they crafted in the forest, Tilly speculated that the other servants were privy to it too. She would know soon enough, for the looks were all too familiar. People would murmur apologies, then quickly look away. She doubted they would be as bold as they were in her time, always asking prying questions.
She chuckled softly. She would not mind it, though, if someone would bring a nice chicken casserole and some peach cobbler.
∞
Instead of peach cobbler, Sarah appeared with a tray of dainty sandwiches and a dull gray dress. Before Tilly could sample the food, the maid slipped her into the new garment. Sarah fussed at the hem just as Mrs. Keith did the previous evening. Shaking her head, she pulled the dress over Tilly’s head in a flash and set to work fixing the gown.
Through the Mist: Restoration Page 11
