Nine Steps to Sara (3 page)

“Yes, well… let’s go upstairs then, shall we?” Mrs. Poole turned on her heel to lead the way. 

Sara turned to say goodbye to Thomas, but he was nowhere in sight. 
She must be more tired than she’d thought…

At the top of the stairs they turned left and down the wide hallways that boasted
rich
artwork she couldn’t wait to get a better look at once she could keep her eyes open. 

“I thought to put Miss Wilson in the yellow room if it suits, my Lady,” she opened the door wide for them to take a look.

“Shut up…” Joanie’s jaw dropped as she stepped into the room. 
Pretty and feminine, the wallpaper was a pale yellow with tiny posies of flowers.  The heavy woodwork was painted a muted white which brightened the room considerably
,
even in the
subdued
light.  Besides the high bed, there was a small sitting area in front of the windows and a roaring fire going
behind an ornately enameled grate. 

“Is there a problem with the room?”  Mrs. Poole blinked and Sara was quick to reassure her.

“No, no problem at all.  She meant that in a good way, I promise.”

“I’ll say,” Joanie flopped on top of the bed, shoes and all, rolling one way and then the other.  “I could definitely get used to this,” she let out a dreamy sigh. 

“There’s electricity in all of the rooms,” Mrs. Poole reported proudly,
“
and the main guest rooms all have bathrooms
en suite,”
she opened the door to the adjoining bathroom with a flourish
and Joanie leaned up on her elbow to get a better look
.

“
Is there central heat?
” Sara asked, stepping closer to the fireplace and Mrs. Poole shook her head.

“
Sadly, no, we rely on the fireplaces to heat the house, but there are fireplaces in all of the bedrooms and the main living areas apart from the
conservatory
.
”

“The
conservatory
,” Joanie made an exaggerated face, lifting her nose into the air as she put the exact same inflection to the
word;
only from her it sounded positively snooty. 

“Yes, the
conservatory
,” Mrs. Poole repeated, brows drawing together in confusion
as Joanie’s sense of humor went over her head
. 

“That’s great, Mrs. Poole, thanks.  You’ll be alright here, Joanie?  I’m go
ing to
head to bed,” Sara changed the subject,
eager to find her own room.

“I think I can muddle through,” Joanie smiled up from the pile of pillows.

“Okay, goodnight, see you in the morning.”  Sara felt like she could sleep for a week, but a low current of excitement thrummed under her skin at the thought of seeing the master bedroom. 
From the architecture of
the house, it was obvious it was at least a few hundred years old, hence the housekeeper’s pride in the use of electricity, and she couldn’t wait to see the set up in there.

“Here we are, my Lady,” Mrs. Poole sang out as they reached the
massive mahogany door
at the end of the long hallway. 

It was everything a master suite implied and more.  Dominated by a huge four poster bed
built into the room itself, it was richly dressed in burgundy and green bed clothes trimmed heavily in gold. 
A crackling fire blazed within a massive hearth in front of the seating area where two wing backed chairs
and a small sofa
sat across a
low
table laid out with an ornate chess set. 
Whoever designed the room was heavy on the wood trim; in fact, the entire ceiling was covered with a series of heavy beams with delicate carved inlays forming a scrolling grid pattern that
encompassed
every square
inch of surface area. 

It was exquisite
, but very
dark;
not at all like the feminine yellow room Joanie had been assigned. 
P
atterned rugs covered much of the polished mahogany floor, offering muted spots of color, but they’d long ago faded
into dullness
,
missing a tassel here and there
. 
None of it was exactly to her tastes, more masculine than anything else, but nice, very nice. 

Wandering into the adjoining bath as Mrs. Poole turned down the bed, Sara smiled at finding an old copper bathtub, big enough to sink up to her nose in.  It was tempting to take a soak after the long trip by planes and trains, but more than anything she wanted to curl up in the big fluffy bed and catch some z’s. 
A door off the bathroom led into a dressing room bigger than the living room of the last apartment she’d shared with Jack, the same masculine decor carrying over.  Another door
off the bathroom
was locked up tight when she tried it.  Did she have to share the bathroom with another room? 
That could be awkward…

“What’s this door to?”
Sara called out, and Mrs. Poole was quick to hurry over.

“That goes to the Lady’s dressing room and living apartments.  I had given some thought to whether or not you’d be more comfortable in those quarters, but they’ve been vacant for such a long time, I’m afraid the bed wouldn’t do at all.”

“Oh, I gotcha.  The old Lord and Lady didn’t share a bed, huh?” Sara grinned.

“It was very common to keep separate apartments, especially in the day of arranged marriages,” she nodded, returning to finish with the bed and Sara wandered back in to stand by the huge stone fireplace.  Her suitcases had appeared while she was in the bathroom, and she lugged one up to prop on the wooden chest at the end of the bed to find her nightgown and toiletries. 

“I apologize, my Lady, we’ll have a proper lady’s maid in here for you
tomorrow
,” Mrs. Poole clucked, still fussing with the pillows.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Sara waved her off.  “I don’t need a ma
id; I can take care of myself.”  It was weird enough having someone fluff up her pillows for her.  “
Do you have to get sheets made special for that?
”
she pointed to the massive bed.

“
Ah
…
yes, my Lady, as a matter of fact, we do.  I didn’t presume to make any decorative choices for you; I assumed you’d want to be involved in the redressing of the room to your
liking
.
  Or you can take over the other rooms if you’d prefer.”
 

“
You can call me Sara
.”  It felt strange with everybody
my Ladying
her over and over.

“
No, my Lady, I most certainly can not,”
Mrs. Poole
replied,
her
voice grave with disapproval. 
“Is there anything else you require before you retire for the night?”

Chastened, Sara shook her head before realizing Mrs. Poole wanted her to say something.  “No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Very well.  If you have need of anything at all, you can ring for assistance, day or night,” she pointed to a tasseled rope hanging next to the headboard.

“Oh,” Sarah blinked; it was like something straight out of the movies.  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.  Thanks again for everything, have a good night.”

“Thank you, my Lady, sleep well.”

By the time Sara got her toiletries unpacked and arranged in the cabinet next to the sink and changed into her nightgown, the
house had settled down for the night; the only sound the crackling of the fire.  The fireplace was big enough to stand up in if she ducked slightly, and she was afraid the Pooles had been a little overzealous in their attempt to keep her warm.  “I won’t need the blankets at all,” she murmured, moving to the set of corner windows to see if she could crack one of them open. 

The frame was hard to manage at first, stuck from years of disuse, but it popped open with a groan when she pushed a little harder, leaving a three inch gap.  The cool night air rushed in, heavily laced with scents from the gardens and Sara glimpsed neat rows of flower beds below.  Lilac, lavender, hyacinth
, and
roses most probably
,
though it was hard to see from the height through the narrow gap.  Delighted with such a find, Sara pulled the window closed so it was only open a crack to let in a little fresh air and hopped into bed. 
 

Immediately enveloped in downy comfort, she wriggled down into a sea of pillows.  “I am Sara J
.
Darling, millionaire,” she yawned.  “I own a mansion and a yacht.”  The dreamy smile stayed fixed on her lips until well after sleep claimed her for the night.

It was early when Sara realized she
lay
huddled into a ball, completely submerged under the covers.  At least she thought it was early; her internal clock was totally out of whack.  A quick test proved the air to be bitterly cold in the room and she immediately ducked back down into the relative warmth of the quilted cocoon. 
So much for the blazing heat of the fire…

Growing braver (or maybe it was the insistent gnawing of her stomach), Sara poked her head out again, finding the fire banked low and her luggage missing. 
Not a good sign.
  A heartbeat later, a teenaged girl dressed in a dove gray uniform slipped in, hugging a basket to her hip as she shut the door behind her. 
D
ark hair pulled back into a severe bun that looked tight enough to pinch, she moved with overly exaggerated care, as if afraid she might accidentally wake
Sara
up.

“Good morning,” Sara smiled, pulling the blankets around her as she sat up in bed.  The girl froze with a stricken, deer in the headlights stare, nearly dropping the basket in the process. 

“I beg your pardon, my Lady, I just went to fetch some wood for the fire.”

The poor girl looked like she was about to jump out of her skin and upon closer inspection, Sara could see she was older than she’d first thought; maybe twenty.  “Good idea
;
is it always this cold in here in the morning?”  Maybe she’d have to invest in a good space heater and keep it close to the bed. 

“No, some dolt left the window open all night and it’s near to freezing in here.  Stay where you are and I’ll fetch you
r
wrapper.” 

Ah, so that explained it.
  Sara kept mute on being the
dolt
responsible, but decided to let the girl off the hook.  “
It’s okay, you work on the fire,
I’ll find my… wrapper.  Only… I’m not sure where my stuff is, do you know?”

Torn between wanting to get the fire going and getting the promised bathrobe, the maid hovered in place for a moment.  “I put all your things away in the dressing room, was that wrong?”