Harstairs House

by Amanda Grange

  Susannah hurried along the corridor, back to the hall. What could have happened to Constance? she thought anxiously. Constance had been just behind her when they had entered the house, and Susannah had assumed she had followed her down the corridor, but she could not now remember when she had last seen or heard her. She knew Constance had been there in the hall, because she remembered handing her a candlestick, but after that, had she seen or heard her at all?

  She emerged into the large, square space of the hall and stopped. She put down her portmanteau and protected her flickering candle flames with her hand. The hall looked eerie. It had not struck her as forcibly when she had been with Constance, but now the corners seemed darker, and the shadows cast by the candlelight seemed grotesque. Telling herself not to be fanciful, she jumped when she heard a creaking noise from the stairs. She looked up. She could just see the staircase outlined in the moonlight that fell through the large window on the landing, but there was no one on it. The noise was nothing more than the old house settling.

  Great Aunt Caroline's house had done the same, and she knew she would soon grow used to the sounds.

  She looked in every direction, but could see nothing to help her decide which way to go. Constance could be anywhere. Taking a firmer grip on her candlestick, she went over to the first door. It creaked loudly as she thrust it back. She went in, finding herself in a large, rectangular room. There was a dining-table and chairs, a heavy sideboard and long, thick curtains which were drawn back from the windows, revealing a courtyard beyond. Bathed in moonlight, the courtyard had a ghostly appearance. It was overgrown, and criss-crossed with paths. At its centre was a sundial.

  She closed the door and tried the next one, finding herself in a sitting-room. A harp stood in one corner, and a threadbare sofa was flanked by two armchairs, which were set in front of an inglenook fireplace. On the wall hung a variety of paintings in heavy gold frames which glinted in the candlelight, but in the dark their scenes were no more than a blur.

  Closing the door, she moved on and came to the corridor that mirrored the one she had taken earlier, leading away from the hall. She was about to pass it by when she caught sight of a ghostly will-o'-the-wisp coming towards her down the corridor. It floated eerily in the darkness and her heart skipped a beat — until she realized that it was nothing more alarming than a candle, and that its strange floating movement was caused by it being set on a tray. She smiled, and her anxiety left her. Constance was carrying the tray towards her, and had evidently been making tea!

  "Oh, what a relief! I thought I had lost you," said Constance, as the two ladies began to laugh with the release of tension. "I was following you across the hall when I thought I heard something and went to investigate. It was only the creaking of the house, but when I tried to find my way back to you I must have become lost. I was sure I'd seen you take the corridor, but as I went further and further along it I saw no sign of you. I was about to give up and turn back when I saw steps leading downward. I was overcome with a longing for a dish of tea. Hoping the steps led to the kitchen, I took them. I found everything we will need. In fact the kitchen seems to be very well stocked, and the fire is ablaze. You will think me fanciful, but it does not seem as though it is deserted. If I didn't know better, I would think it had been used only a few hours ago."

  "It probably had!" said Susannah.

  She opened the door into the sitting-room, and led the way inside. Setting her portmanteau down beside the sofa, she lit the candles on the mantelpiece from the ones she had in her hand. As they sprang into life Susannah saw that the sofa was a dull green in colour, and that the paintings on the wall showed scenes of the cliff tops.

  She shivered. "It's cold," she said.

  "A hot drink will help," said Constance.

  They sat on the sofa and Constance poured the tea.

  "Well, this is an exciting day and no mistake," said Constance, as she handed a cup to Susannah. "But what did you mean about the kitchen being used?"

  Susannah took a sip of the hot tea and felt revived.

  "We are not alone in the house," she said.

  Constance froze with her cup halfway to her lips.

  "You mean there are ghosts here after all?" she gasped.

  "No, not ghosts," said Susannah. "Men."

  Constance put her cup down with a clatter. "Oh, my!"

  "It seems Harstairs House has a tenant."

  "What is his name? Is he a gentleman?" asked Constance.

  "As to his name, I didn't ask and he did not offer it. As to being a gentleman"-a memory of open shirt, broad chest, worn boots and a swarthy face jumped into her mind—"he is nothing of the kind."

  "Oh, my!" said Constance again.

  "He is staying here until his lease expires at the end of the month."

  "That's most unfortunate," said Constance, with a shake of her grey head. "And most strange," she added. "Mr. Harstairs must have known the house had a tenant when he made his will. I wonder why he wanted you to share it?"

  "I can only think he did not expect to die so soon," said Susannah. "The lease has only a month to run."

  "It must be as you say. But why did Mr. Sinders not mention it? Mr. Harstairs's valet stocked the house, he said. He must have known there was a gentleman here."

  "Perhaps the valet did not tell him," said Susannah thoughtfully.

  It did seem rather strange, though.

  "Unless…" Constance went pink.

  Susannah looked at her enquiringly.

  "What was the gentleman… man… like?" she asked.

  "Tall and swarthy," said Susannah. "Rude and overbearing," she added.

  "But young?" asked Constance.

  "Oh, yes. About eight-and-twenty, I should guess. Why?"

  "Well," said Constance hesitantly. "Mr. Harstairs was a romantic. He never forgot your great aunt. Perhaps he hoped… perhaps he thought… perhaps he wanted you to marry the tenant."

  "Marry the tenant?" exclaimed Susannah. "Why would Mr. Harstairs want me to do that? Anyway, I have no desire to marry, and if I did, I wouldn't marry the tenant if my life depended on it! I can think of nothing-"

  There was a knock at the door. Susannah and Constance looked at each other.

  "Come in," called Susannah.

  The door opened to reveal the man they had just been talking about. Susannah felt a flush spring to her cheeks as she wondered if he could have overheard their conversation, but she was reassured to see that he did not seem annoyed or out of countenance. Regaining her composure, she said, "Yes?"

  "I hope I'm not intruding?" he asked.

  "No, not at all," fluttered Constance, putting down her cup.

  He was now properly dressed, Susannah noticed, and wore a cut-away tailcoat over his shirt, which was properly fastened so that it no longer revealed any trace of the smooth skin that had showed beneath it when she had first met him. He had pulled his hair back from his face and tied it in a queue at the nape of his neck, fastening it with a black riband. It threw his bones into high relief, revealing the sharp contours of his face.

  "Did you want something?" she enquired.

  "Yes. I've come to agree to your suggestion," he said. "I have been thinking it over and it is the most sensible solution to our dilemma. We can split the house in two and need never trouble each other. I have some friends staying with me, but they are agreeable to the arrangement, too."

  "Good," said Susannah.

  She felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The thought of spending the next month with the gentleman had been disturbing, but as long as she need never see him, she felt she could endure it.

  "As we are going to be fellow inmates, allow me to introduce myself," he said, moving forward. He took Constance's hand and kissed it. "My name is Oliver Bristow."

  "Oh, Mr. Bristow! I am Miss Morton. Charmed, I'm sure," said Constance, growing even pinker.

  He turned to Susannah, but she did not hold out her hand to him. For some reason she felt wary of letting him
kiss it. When he had taken hold of her earlier there had been… something. A strange sensation that had made her light-headed, which should have not been pleasurable, but in fact had been exhilarating. Fortunately, it had passed quickly, but she was afraid it might return if he touched her.

  "And you are… ?" he asked her.

  As she did not speak, Constance spoke for her.

  "This is Miss Thorpe," Constance said.

  "Miss Thorpe," said Oliver, making her a bow.

  "It is good of you to introduce yourself," said Susannah.

  "Not at all. But I must not take up any more of your time, and I will bid you both good night," he said.

  "I thought you said he was not a gentleman?" asked Constance as the door closed behind him. "He seemed very much the gentleman to me."

  Susannah did not reply. Something about him disturbed her. She had the feeling there was more to him than was being revealed, and it made her apprehensive. He had been charm itself when speaking to Constance, but earlier there had been something wild about him. Like the sea which could be heard nearby, he seemed to have different moods, and she had the feeling that he was just as dangerous. On the surface he might appear placid when he chose, but there were still rocks beneath the surface, ready to dash the unwary to pieces.

  "The kitchens were very well stocked," said Constance, breaking into her thoughts. "I brought some biscuits to go with our tea. Won't you have one?"

  "Yes, I will, thank you," said Susannah. She brought her thoughts back to the mundane with relief. It was far easier to think of tea and biscuits than it was to think of Oliver Bristow. "I'm hungry. It seems a long time since we stopped for supper."

  After finishing their drink, Susannah said, "I think we should choose our bedchambers. It's already late, and we might have to make up the beds."

  Constance agreed, and after taking the tray back to the kitchen and washing the dishes, she rejoined Susannah. There were ominous creaks as they crossed the hall and ascended the stairs, and Susannah was grateful for Constance's company. It would have seemed frightening with-out her, but as the two of them shared a smile at each new groan of the floorboards, and laughed at the wind moaning along the corridor, it seemed like an adventure.

  Once they reached the half-landing they hesitated, then Susannah took the left branch. At the top, she turned to the right and opened the first door. It led into a large room, but seeing a razor and shaving brushes on its washstand, she hastily retreated.

  "I think we are in the wrong wing," she said.

  She and Constance turned round and went in the opposite direction. Trying another door, Susannah found an empty bedchamber. It was a cramped apartment, and she tried the next. It was much more spacious, but had very little furniture. There was no washstand, and no wardrobe. The next one looked more promising.

  As Constance followed her in, she said, "Oh, my!"

  It was a huge apartment with a massive four-poster bed in the middle of it Red velvet curtains hung round the bed, and heavy oak furniture was pushed back against the walls. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a washstand, a wing chair, a desk and a shield-backed chair, and at the foot of the bed there was a blanket box. Tall windows looked over the open countryside at the back of the house, which was silvered by the moon. "Oh, my," she said again.

  "I think this should be your room," said Susannah.

  "I shall feel like a queen sleeping here!" said Constance.

  "Then I will see you in the morning, Your Majesty," Susannah teased.

  Leaving Constance to enjoy the splendours of her new apartment, Susannah examined a further two chambers before choosing one for herself. It was smaller than Constance's room, but it overlooked the sea. Even in the dark the ocean was a magnificent sight, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Susannah had wanted to see it again after spending the early part of her life on the coast, and here it was, a never-ending expanse of water, moving like a thing alive, a giant turning beneath a silver-grey counterpane that sparkled and shimmered in the starlight.

  She put her portmanteau by the wing chair then lit the candles on the mantelpiece. There was another candle on the table by the bed. She moved it slightly so that it was not in any danger of setting the bed hangings alight and then lit it, before setting her candelabra on the mantelpiece.

  In the dancing light she took in the room where she was to spend the next month. The four-poster looked ancient, but as she tested the mattress, she was pleased to find it was comfortable. Better yet, it was already made up with clean, dry sheets. She should unpack her portmanteau, she thought, but she was too tired. Instead, she simply took out her gowns and hung them in the wardrobe so that the creases could hang out, then left the rest of her scant possessions for the morning.

  She was about to draw the curtains when she decided she would leave them open. The sight of the sea soothed her, and she wanted to see it if she woke in the night.

  An exciting day, Constance had called it. Yes, it had been exciting, reflected Susannah, but it had also been unsettling. And the most unsettling part of it had been her meeting with Oliver Bristow.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next morning the weather was stormy. Drawn by the sight of the turbulent water, Susannah climbed out of bed and went over to the window. The wind was whipping the waves into white peaks. Clouds hung low over the sea, and scudded across the sky. She stayed watching the waves until a draught from the window stirred her nightgown and she shivered. It was time to dress. There was no water in the bowl on the washstand, and she wondered whether she should go down to the kitchen in her wrapper, but the notion that she might bump into Mr. Bristow decided her against it. She would wash later, after breakfast, instead. She was just about to slip her nightgown over her head when there was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" she called.

  "It's Constance. I have brought you some hot water."

  "What a blessing!"

  Susannah opened the door and saw that Constance was already dressed. She was wearing the same grey gown and mob cap she had worn many times before, yet she was looking younger than usual, and Susannah realized it was because she had lost her harried look. She had always worn it at Mrs. Russell's house, and small wonder. But this morning she was smiling.

  "It's a beautiful morning," said Constance, apparently oblivious to the storm. "I will make breakfast as soon as you come downstairs."

  Susannah took the jug of hot water gratefully, and was soon splashing it into the bowl. In the clear light of day she could see how fine the porcelain was. It was almost translucent, and was painted with birds and flowers. Next to the dark oak of the washstand it seemed even more delicate, and it was far nicer than anything she had had at Mrs. Russell's house. Having washed, she slipped on her chemise and then tied her quilted petticoat round her waist. She fastened her blue, open skirt on top of it so the petticoat was revealed, then donned the matching bodice. Draping a fichu round her shoulders, she secured it with a brooch and then completed her toilette with a wide blue sash round her waist. It was a pity her shoes were brown, she reflected, but when she inherited her fortune she would have shoes dyed to match every new dress.

  She brushed her hair, then pinned it up as best she could, leaving one swathe to drape over her left shoulder. She had not had the inclination to set it in rags the night before, so it was straight, not curled, but at least her hairstyle was a little more fashionable than the one she had been forced to adopt as a governess.

  Once ready, she went downstairs. In the daytime, the house seemed less forbidding, and when she entered the sitting-room she found that Constance was already there.

  "Oh, good!" said Constance, jumping up. "I will go and make breakfast."

  "I didn't bring you here to wait on me," said Susannah. "I might have told Mr. Bristow you were my companion, but that was only to let him know that I wasn't alone. If you hadn't befriended me when I first arrived at the Russells' house, my life would have been very bleak, and I'm glad I've been able to repay you. I
don't see you as a servant, Constance. I see you as a friend."

  "Thank you, Susannah, you are very kind. But I cannot impose on you for ever." She hesitated, then said, "I was wondering if you might need a housekeeper. I used to keep house for my father before he died and I enjoyed it. Might you consider appointing me?"

  Constance had shrunk as a companion, where she had been constantly belittled and put upon, but she had already regained much of her confidence away from Mrs. Russell, and Susannah thought the idea a splendid one. As a housekeeper, Constance would be the queen of her own domain, and would have a maid to wait on her. Seeing the energy with which she had spoken of the idea, Susannah decided it would be a very good thing for both of them.

  "Oh, yes, it will take a weight off my mind," she said gratefully. "Mr. Sinders said it was difficult to engage staff to work here in the summer, and I was wondering how I was going to manage by myself."

  "And now I will make breakfast. No, it's no use protesting," Constance said gaily. "You can't make breakfast because you don't know where the kitchen is!"

  Susannah smiled. "I will have to find out before long, but thank you."

  She looked round the room when Constance had gone. It was surprisingly well kept, and with the roaring fire Constance had lit, it was very comfortable. The wallpaper was of a faded cream colour, the chairs were upholstered in silk, and the furniture was made of walnut. It was dull with neglect, but it would be beautiful when it was polished. Constance returned a short while later with a tray of hot rolls and chocolate, and as they ate, they talked over their plans for the morning.

  "I am going to attend to the dining-room," said Con-stance. "We cannot go on balancing plates on our knees in the sitting-room for ever. The dining-room is a fine chamber. The table is dusty and the fire is unlit, but that is easy to alter."

  "I'd like to explore the estate, but it's impossible," Susannah said. The wind was howling round the house, and rain spattered against the window. "I think I will explore the house instead."

  The two ladies finished their breakfast, and whilst Constance embarked on her mission to make the dining-room habitable, Susannah went upstairs, deciding she would start at the top of the house and work downwards. She wanted to see in what state of repair the house was, so that she would know if any restoration work needed carrying out. She walked along the landing in search of stairs to the attic, and at last found them tucked away in the far corner of the west wing. They were narrow, and made of unpolished wood, but with a carpet they could be made very pleasant.