She smiled, but she didn’t let him see her face. The truth was, in the last few months she’d also been a bit bored. Solving a mystery sounded good. Maybe not a murder but just finding out why someone did something. Obviously, the couple who’d run away together must have had serious obstacles in their paths. If they didn’t, they would have announced their love and invited people to the wedding. So why did they feel the need to vanish? And why had no one heard from them since? Or maybe they had. The newspaper article was old.
But Kate knew that if the mystery of the disappearance had been solved, Aunt Sara wouldn’t be arranging a visit to Oxley Manor.
Wonder what else she’s done? she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
When they arrived in England, it was early morning. A black sedan picked them up at the airport. The driver had on a black suit, with a cap that you’d expect a chauffeur to wear.
Jack got in the back with Kate, while Sara sat in the front with the driver. They heard her ask the man about himself. He’d worked at Oxley Manor for years and picking them up was his last job before he left on holiday.
It took two hours of driving over express highways, then spiraling country roads before the car slowed down at a tall brick wall. A huge iron gate was in front of them. It was a rather plain gate, not flashy at all. To the left was a small brass plaque that read Oxley Manor.
At the security box, the driver tapped in a code, the gate opened and they drove slowly down a paved road. Around them was an expansive lawn, interspersed with huge old trees. Sheep dotted the lawn—walking lawn mowers.
After a few minutes they came to another gate, this one short and attached to low walls that disappeared on both sides through the trees. A small house stood by the little gate. It was two-story, all brick, with tall, stone-faced windows.
“Thinking of putting it on the market?” Jack asked Kate.
“I wouldn’t mind knowing the number of beds and baths.”
“It’s England. Twelve bedrooms, one bath.”
“And you said you didn’t watch Downton Abbey.”
Smiling, he looked out the car window.
The driver slowed down as they went around a corner and they saw the main house. It was long, spreading out over a hundred feet. It had Gothic overtones, with steeply pitched roofs and parts that jutted out to form giant bay windows that were two stories tall.
“Is that...?” Kate asked, pointing to the front.
“It’s a thirteenth-century chapel,” the driver said. “Restored in 1928 by the sixth Lord Renlow.”
“Then again by Bella,” Sara added, pride in her voice.
Kate and Jack looked at each other. They knew who’d paid for it: Sara and the millions of books she’d sold.
The driver took his time going around the perimeter of the house, letting them see all of it. “The house is younger than the chapel,” he said. “But parts of it are sixteenth century. The newest section was built in the 1700s. One family built it and their descendants still live here.”
As a lover of houses, especially old ones, Kate could feel her heart doing little jumps.
Jack leaned toward her and whispered, “You ever look at me like that and I’ll die happy.”
“Looks like you’ll have a long, sad life,” she shot back at him.
When the car stopped, Sara nearly leaped out, said, “Bella,” then took off running around the side of the house.
“Sorry about this,” the driver said as he opened Kate’s door, “but I have to drop you off at the back. Front’s being worked on. The kitchen is through that door. I’ll take your cases up.”
Jack was standing next to Kate. Through the trees they could see other buildings. One was long and low. Stables, maybe? Corners of what appeared to be small houses were barely visible.
“How many people live here?” she asked the driver.
“Not many. Mrs. Guilford has a flat in the main house. Mrs. Aiken, the cook, and the head gardener have places. And there’s Puck.” He gave a little smile, sort of a smirk. “She has a house by the cemetery.”
“Who is she?” Kate asked.
“Mrs. Aiken’s daughter. She’s...”
“She’s what?” Kate asked.
“Different.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“She is...fortyish, I guess. We have a saying around here that you can look at her but not see her. She’s sort of invisible.” He saw that neither Jack nor Kate liked what he was saying. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to gossip. Anyway, the cottages are mostly for guests. They like their privacy.”
“I would too.” Kate turned full circle. “I’d like to stay in a cottage and walk over every inch of this place. And pet every animal.”
“Moooo,” Jack said.
That got a smile out of her. “I don’t see any other people.”
“That’s because we close for the month of March. Old place like this needs constant repair. Guests don’t like the sound of hammers. I’m afraid they’re going to wake you up.”
“They are music to Jack,” Kate said. “Add a couple of power saws and he’ll start singing.”
The driver looked from one to the other for a moment, seeming to be curious about their relationship. Then he opened the black painted door to the house and they went inside.
The kitchen was divine. It had a huge oak table in the center and lots of open shelves full of copper pots, with dishes below. There was a giant Aga cooker against the middle of the back wall. It was a stove that was always warm, always fighting against the cold and damp.
“A lot of this is for the viewing pleasure of the guests,” the driver said. “They want England to look like they imagine it.” He moved a wooden slab to one side to expose a modern induction cooktop. “Microwave is behind those doors. Right now Mrs. Aiken has everything that doesn’t look like a movie set covered up. She likes the old things.”
He opened a big oak door to expose a built-in refrigerator. Inside, there wasn’t a sliver of plastic. Little white pots had red-and-white-checked covers tied on with string. Cotton covered a big slab of cheese. There were several ceramic bowls.
“I like it,” Kate said. “Where are our rooms?”
“Mrs. Guilford said you could choose any one you want. Except the Queen Anne. That goes to Mrs. Medlar.”
They didn’t correct him that Sara had never been married.
“That sounds lovely,” Kate said. “We—” She broke off because the kitchen door was flung open so hard the glass rattled. A woman, grocery bags in hand, came inside with the force of a storm. “Look what you’ve done to my kitchen.” She glared at the driver.