Sonia, however, smiled as she wobbled the tray onto the table. Gertrude was pouring tea midflight. Sonia stepped away from the settled tray just as Gertrude lifted the two full cups and handed them out.
She continued without missing a beat as Sonia backed from the room. “I’ve had Duncan take your bags to your room. As soon as you’ve enjoyed your tea, please go to the top of the stairs. You’ll find the Green Room third door to the right. If you’d rather not go alone, I can guide you, but this is your home for two weeks, and we have found that letting guests find their way immediately helps them feel more relaxed.” She tapped her fingers together as if checking off items on a list.
“We usually start the festivities the day after arrival so your first night is more comfortable. Sonia will meet you in the Green Room later to show you where everything is and take you on a tour if you wish. You will find dresses already in the wardrobes, and Sonia can assist if any need alterations.”
She straightened from the table. “You’ll find your visit here to be steeped in the stories and culture of Jane Austen. As you read on our website, many guests choose characters from her novels they wish to embody during their stay, but don’t feel you must. Others simply enjoy the costumes, the carriage rides, and the long walks, then sit here and check e-mail, work, or watch television. There are televisions hidden in most of the common rooms. I can show you the panels and—”
“We won’t be needing any of that. Right, Mary?” Isabel straightened. “For my research, I really would like us to stay as close to the fictional dream as possible.”
“Most guests do. We had one private party who took over the entire house for a Mansfield Park re-creation. It trespassed into reality when one of the wives really did run off with another man.”
I’m sure I looked shocked, but Isabel’s eyes lit with excitement. She was forming chapters right before my eyes.
“I’ve made a list of some of our most engaging happenings and scheduled interviews as requested.”
“Excuse me?” Isabel choked on her tea. “Interviews?”
“Your father asked me to arrange a formal interview schedule with the staff.” Gertrude darted her eyes between us. “You didn’t know?”
I reached for Isabel’s cup as she struggled to stop coughing. An array of emotions chased through her eyes—shock, anger, resignation. “We haven’t talked lately, but thank you.” Her face hardened, but her tone remained calm, even gracious. “May I get that from you tomorrow?”
“We’ll review it at breakfast.” Gertrude waited on Isabel for confirmation, but she was miles away.
I stepped into the gap. “That’s fine. Thank you. Is there Wi-Fi?”
Isabel came back to the moment in time to glare at me.
“I’ll hide it,” I promised, “but I will need to touch base with work. Two weeks is a long time to be gone.”
Gertrude laughed. “We have a fully equipped business center with most common supplies provided, including charging cables, Ethernet, and HDMI cables too. We also have accounts with several server storage facilities for larger data needs. And the wireless signal is boosted throughout the house. You can check e-mail from the shower, if you wish.”
“Larger data needs?” My interest was piqued.
“Business doesn’t stop even for a holiday. I believe Mr. Stanley negotiated a corporate merger over whist one afternoon. The entire game and meeting were conveyed via a sixty-four-inch monitor on the back lawn . . . The Stanleys’ desire is that you feel like a member of the family or a beloved guest,” she continued. “There are no restrictions on what you may do or where you may go, and you need only ask for anything you desire. You’ll find, along with your luggage, Duncan has laid your keys on the desk in your room. Your present attire is appropriate for tonight’s dinner.” She paused, then added with a warmer tone, “Then tomorrow, please pick a gown and enjoy all Braithwaite House has to offer.”
“Thank you for making us feel so welcome.” I felt the need to say something kind. For some odd reason, I got the impression that although Gertrude knew the speech cold, she didn’t like delivering it.
She turned, then twisted on her boot’s heel to face us again. “In case I don’t see you out and about later, I’ll tell you now that drinks and light appetizers will be served in the front parlor before dinner, and we will dine in the formal dining room to the left of the front door. After-dinner drinks will be served in the library across the hall—or I may move our party to the larger assembly room, as we have a Swiss family who arrived yesterday, and cards and games might be nice for the child. An Austrian couple checked in this morning and are staying the week as well. You will enjoy the Muellers. They are very pleased to be here, and I expect, Miss Dwyer, they will pepper you with questions.”
Isabel frowned, as if chatting about Austen or trying to bring others up to speed might impinge upon her own immersion.
Gertrude didn’t notice that she’d said anything displeasing. She simply nodded as if to say job done and left the room without another word.
Her withdrawal revealed Sonia, who had been standing behind her in the doorway. “I’ve checked your room,” she said, “and your luggage is already there. There’s a bell pull hanging near the desk. If you ring it after you have rested, I’ll come straight up to answer any questions or take you on a tour.”
I nodded, but there was no way I was ever going to pull some rope with the expectation that Sonia would come running.
Once she left, I raised my cup to Isabel and smiled. “There you go. We’ve been invited to a house party, as beloved guests, and we’ve got two weeks to enjoy every bit of it.”
Isabel had a look in her eye, almost like a general assembling the troops and putting each person, each detail, into place.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“For a man who doesn’t communicate much, my father is making himself loud and clear this time.” She shuddered as if resetting herself. “No matter. You are right. I’ve got two weeks to enjoy this. Let the fun begin.”
Chapter 8
Sandwiches, tea, cake, and a warm fire soon revived us, and we went in search of the Green Room. We found our way back to the front hall, peeking in every open doorway and cracking those that were shut. Halfway up the stairs, Isabel stopped to study a headless mannequin dressed in burgundy silk.
“This is what we’ll be wearing.” She reached up and ran her finger around the inside of the dress’s delicate lace neck. “I think it’s genuine. Look at the stitching and the silk ribbon pulling it together. It’s all hand sewn, and you can see the disintegration here at the edges. Circa 1810, I’d say. Within a couple years of this, they quit using ribbon or tapes for their dress closures.”
“Show-off.” I laughed.