a stately man that she almost took to be Audrey’s husband, Lord Woodhead, but who in fact announced himself to be the butler. Cecily walked into the vast hall, its centrepiece an impressive but rather ugly mahogany staircase.
‘Darling Cecily!’ Audrey – who was attractive and vivacious, just as Cecily remembered her – came to greet her. She kissed Cecily on both cheeks. ‘How was the voyage? I do so hate travelling across the ocean, don’t you? All those enormous waves – it can quite upset the digestion. Come, I will show you to your room, you must be completely exhausted. I’ve had the maid light the fire for you – dear Edgar can be quite frugal with the heating.’
Once installed in her room, Cecily sat warming her hands by the fire, surveying the stately four-poster bed. The room was utterly freezing, and she was glad her mother had forewarned her about the temperature in English country houses, making sure that she packed long johns and undershirts to keep her warm.
Even though Audrey had insisted that Cecily must be tired after the journey, she was feeling wide awake. Once the maid had unpacked her ‘England’ clothes and taken her gown off to be steamed for dinner that night, Cecily grabbed a woollen cardigan then opened the bedroom door and peered out along the corridor. She turned left and walked along it and by the time she came to the end of it, she had counted twelve doors. Walking back past her own bedroom, she then proceeded right along to the other end.
‘Twenty-four doors,’ she sighed, wondering how the maids remembered who was in which room, as there were no numbers on the outside of them like there were in hotels. Returning to her bedroom, she found the maid re-stoking her fire.
‘I’ve hung your dress in the wardrobe, miss, ready for tonight.’
‘Wardrobe?’
‘Yes, that,’ said the maid, pointing to the closet. ‘I’ve also drawn you a bath next door, miss, but it’s a bit nippy in there, so I’d dip in quick before the water freezes over, then get back in here to warm up by the fire.’
‘Okay, thanks.’
‘Will you be wanting any help with your hair, miss? I do ’er ladyship’s most nights. I’m a dab hand, I am.’
‘Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I can manage myself. And you are . . .?’
‘Me name’s Doris, miss. I’ll be back in a jiffy, once you’ve had your bath.’
Cecily felt nonplussed as she undressed and slipped on her robe to go next door to the bathroom. Doris seemed to be speaking a foreign language, but she certainly wasn’t wrong about the temperature of either the bathroom or the water. She was in and out of it as fast as she could and was just walking back to her bedroom when she saw a young man of about her age making his way down the corridor towards her.
Given her current frame of mind over Jack, Cecily was not in the mood for romanticising any male, but as he looked up and smiled at her, her heart rate increased. Beneath the floppy bangs of shiny black hair (worn far too long for a gentleman) a pair of large brown eyes, framed by girlishly thick lashes, appraised her.
‘Hello,’ he said as he reached her. ‘May I enquire to whom I am speaking?’
‘I’m Cecily Huntley-Morgan.’
‘Are you now? And what exactly are you doing here?’
‘Oh, my mother and Lady Woodhead are old friends and I’m staying here for a few days before I travel on to Kenya.’ Cecily put a hand to her décolletage, feeling exposed in the flimsy robe she had put on after her bath.
‘Africa, is it?’ the man said with a smile. ‘Well, well. I’m Julius Woodhead.’ He offered her a hand. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance.’
‘Likewise.’ Cecily took the proffered hand and felt an odd sensation, not unlike an electric shock, judder up her arm.
‘See you at dinner,’ he called as he sauntered past her. ‘It’s apparently pheasant yet again, just be careful of the shot.’
‘I . . . okay, I will be,’ she replied, not having a clue what he meant.
Julius disappeared into a bedroom just along the corridor. With a trembling hand, she opened the door to her own room, then shut it behind her and went to sit beside the fire.
‘Julius Woodhead . . .’ she whispered. ‘Surely, he can’t be one of Audrey’s children?’ For starters, she wasn’t aware Audrey had any. For seconds, he had been