Julia bent to let Ruby down and noticed Mrs. Kilpatrick.
Walking forward hand extended, she murmured, “Mrs. K.”
The muscles worked in Mrs. Kilpatrick’s throat as she tried not to cry and she steeled herself for what was to come. Julia Fairfax, and her mother Patricia, were American and didn’t stand on ceremony and had no sense of, or more likely didn’t care much for, the firmly hierarchical way things were at Sommersgate. The lady of the house, Baroness Monique Ashton, hated it when her daughter’s American in-laws would come to visit. They were far too familiar with the servants, amongst other things, many other things.
Julia put her hand on Mrs. Kilpatrick’s arm, squeezed gently and kissed the older woman’s cheek with familiarity and kindness.
“How’s it going, Mrs. K?” she asked, trying to read Mrs. Kilpatrick’s face. At that distance, Mrs. Kilpatrick saw that Julia was not nearly as fresh and relaxed as she’d looked from afar. Her skin was pale and drawn and her green eyes, normally alight with mischief, good humour, or stubborn resolve, looked immensely tired, as if she’d not only been travelling for fourteen hours but as if she hadn’t slept in weeks.
“I’m well, Miss Julia, how was your flight?”
Mrs. K referred to both Julia and Patricia in a less formal way at each woman’s demand. Lady Ashton would never allow Mrs. K any kind of familiarity which would include using their Christian name. Mrs. K firmly refused to call them Jewel and Patty, as she’d been asked to do many a time. In return, Julia and Patricia had firmly refused to answer to Miss Fairfax or Mrs. Fairfax. In the end, they had an unspoken compromise and “Miss Julia” and “Miss Patricia” were born.
Mrs. K disengaged her arm with her own friendly but fleeting squeeze of Julia’s hand and walked the woman into the house as Ruby danced ahead of them. Julia hesitated and looked back at the Bentley. Neither Julia nor Patricia had ever been comfortable with being waited upon, having their bags carried for them, unpacked for them, their laundry done or doors opened for them.
“Don’t worry, Carter will see to your bags,” Mrs. K assured her. “Your flight?”
Julia smiled wearily, giving in gracefully to the gentle reminder of how things were at Sommersgate.
Even though Mrs. Kilpatrick had pulled away from Julia’s grasp, the younger woman linked her arm through Mrs. K’s elbow and walked forward. “I’m glad it’s over, I hate flying.” She looked around her and trembled dramatically. “How’s this dusty old pile of rocks keeping? I see it hasn’t fallen down around your heads… unfortunately.”
Mrs. Kilpatrick shuddered a bit at Sommersgate being talked of like that. On a day as tense as today, a body needed to be careful.
Julia had been a guest on dozens of occasions, dating from before Julia’s brother Gavin had married young Lady Tamsin Ashton and through to last Christmas. Julia had brought her (rather despicable, Mrs. K always thought) husband there before they were married and came back after they were divorced. Mrs. K believed fully in the sanctity of marriage but she’d said a little prayer on the day she found out Julia had become legally untied to that horrible man.
Julia, like many, both loved and hated Sommersgate, but, like few, didn’t have any problem sharing how she felt.
“It’s taken good care of those children,” Mrs. K responded, nodding her head toward Ruby as they exited the long hallway and entered the enormous stairwell with its cavernous gallery, curving staircase ornately carved from granite that four people standing abreast could ascend and its enormous ceiling made entirely of domed glass and embellished wrought iron. Its walls were decorated with dozens of portraits of serious faced ancestors wearing the fashions of the day replete with dripping medals or jewels, depending on the gender.
Julia stopped and looked around, staring at the huge marble fireplace that once heated this space.
“I expect it’s you who have taken good care of those children,” Julia remarked and Mrs. K knew this had more than one meaning. “I just can’t imagine what was in Tammy and Gav’s heads when they demanded the children be brought up here.”
“Miss Tamsin loved this house, as does Ruby,” Mrs. K replied.
Ruby was standing next to Julia looking up at her with sparkling blue eyes and Mrs. K took that opportunity to study the child.
Ruby had taken the last five months surprisingly well, but then, at four years old, how much could she understand about the horrible events that rainy night? It was William, and especially Elizabeth, who had suffered the most.
Julia seemed to realise where she was and what she was saying. She bent low and kissed the top of Ruby’s curls before her eyes returned to the housekeeper.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. K, I’m exhausted. The trip, selling my house, car… the last week has been day after day of going away parties, meals out with friends, finding a place for every last hair pin. It’s been insane.”
Mrs. K understood; the last few months had to be upheaval for Julia. She’d had to give up everything.
She gave Julia a reassuring smile. “I’ve got the kettle on. Let me get you a cuppa. A warm drink always helps. Coffee?”
Julia nodded gratefully and Mrs. K shuffled her into what she knew was Julia’s favourite place at Sommersgate, a smallish room off the grand stairwell that had a tile and flagstone floor and butter-coloured, stone walls. It had wide entryways to both the stairwell and the drawing room and grand, double French windows that lead to the front gardens.
This space was once the entry to the house in the days when horses clattered to the front. Motor cars, and an ancestral baroness who detested them and refused to see them out her front door, had changed the traffic of Sommersgate. She modified the drive to complete at the studded doors at the side, added the fountain and laid the old front drive to gardens. She then altered the huge space within the house to what was now one of the warmest places you could find, literally and figuratively. It held comfortable, button-backed leather couches, chairs and ottomans surrounding another ornate, grand fireplace with sturdy but fine tables here and there on which to lay drinks, trays, books or puzzles, as the case may be.
Of course, no one used the space much, the lord of the manor and his lady mother weren’t the kind who casually wiled away time with games and puzzles.
Mrs. K’s mind moved from the space, back to Julia.
“You wait here. I’ll be back in a snap,” Mrs. K assured her.