owners are very discreet and clever in finding ways around that. Officially, I'm listed as the gardener, I think, though I couldn't tell a weed from an orchid." He leaped out of the car and hurried to the passenger side sweeping the door open with a flourish. "Welcome to Portland Place where the haughty hobnob with the hoi polloi. May I carry you across the threshold of our humble abode, Mrs. Brewer?"
Chapter Eight
Though he usually used the rear entrance and the back stairs to his room, Nicholas escorted Trissa to the front. He wanted her to get the grand sweep of the foyer as the original owner intended for his honored guests. He only regretted that it was not those few moments in the early morning when the sun poured through the stained glass panels of the front door to set the grand staircase shimmering with rainbows. But that would be a revelation for some other day.
Right now it gave him joy enough to feel her hand so confidently in his as she followed him down the flagstone walkway, through the overgrown side garden, and up the steps to the arched stone porch that sheltered the front entrance. The massive oak door, carved with thistles, had bold, brass hardware and a lion's head knocker tarnished to verdigris. Dwarfed by the door, Trissa tilted her head back to admire the stained glass transom and panels on either side of the door, which repeated the thistle pattern of the carving in shades of amethyst and emerald. Nicholas set her suitcase down and pushed his key into the lock. The rusty mechanism gave reluctantly and the door groaned open. He turned expectantly toward Trissa.
"You're not really going to carry me over?" she asked with surprise.
"If you will allow me that honor." Before she had a chance to decline, he quickly added, "For appearance' sake only, you understand," and he effortlessly gathered her in his arms. "Now close your eyes." When she did as he asked, he leaned against the door to shove it open and whisked her over the threshold. "Open them," he whispered.
"Oh! Oh my!" was all she could say as her eyes took in all of it. As he had hoped, Augusta had done her duty and lit the crystal chandelier and wall sconces at the first hint of dusk, and they filled the foyer with dancing light. It set afire the gold filigree of the wallpaper, turned the veins of the marble floor into gilded rivulets, and gave a warm glow to the ivory painted woodwork. Above them, the embossed copper ceiling twinkled back the light from a thousand diamond-cut edges. The foyer was Augusta's labor of love. She fussed over its care, shining and dusting and polishing incessantly.
"First impressions are so important," she'd told Nicholas on the day he came about renting the room. As he lowered Trissa to her feet, he wondered what his landlady's impression would be of her, battered and bruised as she was. He wished he had thought to call her and prepare her for this. It was too late now. The smell of fried chicken and the faint clatter of dinner in progress filtered out from the kitchen.
"You have to see the dining room next." He retrieved Trissa's suitcase from the porch and ushered her into the dining room. Here another crystal chandelier softly illuminated an amazing mural that filled one entire wall. Painted trompe l'oel to simulate an ancient tapestry with amazing tints and shading that gave the effect of stitches frayed and faded by age, the three panel piece told the story of Queen Elizabeth and Mary, Queen of Scots. The first panel depicted Mary's trial, the second showed Elizabeth placing her seal on the death order, and the final was of Mary's execution the moment before the ax fell, a basket waiting to catch her severed head. "A bit gruesome for the dinner table, don't you think?"
"It's glorious. It looks so real. I feel I have to touch it to be sure it's paint and not fabric."
He let her wander the room, closely inspecting the mural and the antique treasures displayed in the mahogany breakfront. Faceted inlays enriched the surface of the Georgian styled dining table that was surrounded by twelve carved side chairs. Trissa's fingers explored the detail of the carving on a chair back, and she closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't understand, Nicholas. Why would anyone who could afford a house like this need to take