In the lower left corner was inscribed Ravenswing Manor, 1580.
Three hundred years ago, an unknown designer had committed to paper his vision for the estate. Dawn sighed. How marvellous. At some point, a clever artist had transferred the original plan to the wall in the gardener’s cottage.
As she studied the drawing she frowned. Someone had ruined the picture. Lines for paths and parterres were smudged and blurred. Plantings were scribbled on until it was impossible to pick out individual details. Over the entirety, someone had painted thick black lines that crossed over one another and radiated out. Toward the edge of the estate, the black lines thinned and then slowly tapered to a stop, as though they couldn’t venture off the drawing onto the wall.
It would take some effort to peel back the dark blots of paint and find the original vision and layout underneath. A shiver ran down her spine as she traced a spiral back to a clear central point. It was as though the drawing reflected the neglected state of what she glimpsed outside.
She peered closer, trying to find buildings that weren’t covered in heavy lines and from there, locate the gardener’s cottage and the brick wall opposite. It looked as though the brick wall enclosed a large area, possibly once a potager and orchard to provide for the manor.
In the same wall, next to the map, sat a door that was different to the bedroom or toilet doors. This one was painted a deep green instead of plain oiled wood. Instead of a simple knob, it had an ornate brass latch that resembled a branch. Leaves formed the base plate that held handle to door.
Dawn grasped the gnarled branch, levered it down, and pushed. The hinges protested and groaned as though it had lain unused for decades. She gritted her teeth and pushed again. Finally it gave, and she stepped into the hothouse adjacent to the cottage.
This wasn’t just a glasshouse but a tropical rain forest. As she entered the lush world, palms soared above her head as they reached for the sky beyond the dome. Ferns sprouted and sprawled wherever they fancied. Climbers reached tendrils into every space, searching for escape. Humidity made the gown cling to her back. The entire greenhouse looked like an unexplored jungle somewhere in India. She wouldn’t be surprised if a tiger leapt out at her.
Mouse barked and she turned to find him sitting in the doorway. The shared cottage wall contained a workbench stretching the entire length. An essential place for the gardener to pot up plants, start seedlings, or take cuttings. A variety of tools were hung above. Trowels, aeration forks, dibblers, string lines, and an array of shears were waiting to be used again.
The dog barked again and shuffled backward.
“Are you suggesting I should leave exploration until morning? I agree, Mouse, wouldn’t do to become lost in here.” She stepped back into the cottage and closed the door. There was so much to see and do – would her heart be up to it?
She placed a hand over her chest. Under her fingertips, that organ beat steady and regular. The day of travelling and the confrontation with the earl had exhausted her and wearied her mind. She should have been incapable of doing anything except falling fully clothed on the bed. Yet the moment her feet touched the soil of Ravenswing, she felt a burst of energy that revived her enough to stand up to the earl rather than collapse at his feet.
Dawn decided to treat her body carefully, so she wouldn’t be too sore and tired in the morning. She opened the door on the cast iron range and put a match to the paper and kindling set within. Soon she had a fire burning that she fed coal from the store next to the range. Dawn filled the kettle from the tap and set it to boil.
Then she dragged the suitcase and carpetbag into the bedroom. The wide bed appeared large enough for both her and Mouse. A brightly coloured quilt over the blankets was a cheery touch of colour, and the mattress seemed firm, but comfortable.
She hung her two gowns in the built-in wardrobe. How sad that she didn’t even have enough to fill its limited space. Her undergarments went into a drawer underneath the wardrobe. Next the photograph of her parents, the botany books, and the obsidian paperweight were placed on the table next to the bed. By the time the kettle boiled, she had stowed away her meagre possessions. That left one item to settle into the new home.
Walking back out to the dining room, she drew the orchid closer. Then she undid the string holding the cardboard fast.
“There you are, my beauty. Free at last.” She dampened the top of the orchid’s pot and then moved it to the middle of the table.
She lit the lamps to compensate for the dying light outside and was just wondering what to do next when a heavy knock sounded on the door. She opened it to find Hector holding a tray with one hand and a silver bowl in the other.
“Dinner for you and Mouse,” he said and then stepped inside. He placed the tray on the table and dropped the bowl to the floor. Then he took off his hat and revealed a shiny, bald head.
How old was he? With his smooth head, grooves in his face, and the wrinkled skin on his hands, he looked as ancient and weathered as a gnarled oak that had stood for three hundred years. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was born in Elizabethan times, but asking his age wasn’t a polite way to start conversation, so she picked another topic.
“What did the earl mean when he said Mouse had chosen me as his human?” Dawn asked as the wolfhound inhaled his dinner.
“Some dogs bond with one person. For the last three years, Mouse here has never been fussed about any of us, but he definitely likes you.” Hector removed a silver cover from the plates on the tray. Underneath were a delicious-smelling beef wellington with vegetables and a vivid yellow custard.
Dawn’s stomach rumbled, and she realised she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“Perhaps Mouse is just curious because I am new?” How could any creature meet another and immediately decide that was the only person for them? Surely it should take weeks, if not months, of getting acquainted, whether one was human or canine.
Hector rubbed a hand over his head and scratched his scalp. “Mayhap, but sometimes critters just know as soon as they see you. There’s a saying about wolfhounds, gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked. For all that he’s not the most attractive creature to look upon, he will look after you. You’ll sleep well with him to guard you.”
“I’ve never had a dog, but I will be glad of the company. And thank you, Hector, for dinner and your support with the earl.” Dawn pulled out a chair opposite the map, so she could eat dinner and absorb the estate’s layout.
“You’re welcome, Miss Uxbridge. I think you’re going to be just what this estate needs. Before you turn in for the night, let Mouse out to do his business. And lock the door when he returns. You’re safe here under Lord Seton’s protection, but you never know what’s out there in the dark.” He smiled and exposed the gaps in his gums.
Dawn ate her dinner in quiet while Mouse lay prone beside her chair. Once finished, she put the kettle on to boil again and let the large dog out to do his business. By the time she had washed her dishes and made herself a cup of cocoa, he was back on the doorstep.
She donned her nightgown and climbed into the large bed. For a little while she sipped the cocoa as her mind re-examined events of the day. Then she snuggled under the blankets and drifted off to sleep as she listened to Mouse’s gentle breathing.
6
A high-pitched scream pulled Dawn from the depths of sleep. She sat upright and clutched at the blankets. Above her head, one shutter hung open. A flicker of moonlight pierced the thick glass of the window and crept over the bed and floor.
The scream tapered off but Dawn waited for it to start again, as though someone out there in the dark were drawing a breath.