Page 63 of Baron in Check
Arnold had Elke in his arms, wrapped in a quilted blanket.
***
About four hours later, Willowby Park came into view.
People emerged from the front and side doors, walking along the cobblestone path toward the carriage.
“Who’s that?” Arnold asked.
“The butler.” Hermy leaned out of the window.
The man cast her a piercing look as if he could brandish her with a curse, pushed his felt hat lower over his forehead, and walked past the carriage.
Hermy was in shock. “That’s the footman, and my lady’s maid. Johanna!”
“Lady Ellsworth.” Johanna stopped and set her bag on the grass next to the cobblestone path. “How c?—”
“Let’s go.” The second footman, Charles, picked up her bag and pulled her away. He saw Hermy but turned away as if the butler had branded her as unworthy.
The kitchen maid, the stable boys, the cook, and even the coachman followed them. “They’re all leaving.”
“And they are upset.” Greg signaled to the other carriage, where Arnold nodded.
“Something’s terribly wrong.” Hermy folded her hands then unfolded them, looked out the window, then retreated and pressed her back against the carriage backrest.
Inside,the solicitor held a ledger and took notes with Hermy’s father’s onyx fountain pen that he’d kept in a mahogany box.
“This is a collectible piece, not an item for daily use.” Hermy barely contained the outrage threatening to spill forth.
Someone spoke from the adjoining study. “Make sure to note the ivory sculpture on the mantel and the Chinese porcelain—oh!”
“List?” Greg said.
Arnold stepped in and set his son, Izaac, down.
“What a grand staircase!” The little boy ran up and then down on the other side. “It has two sides!”
Hermy wanted to welcome her friends and show them her home, but it was under siege. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Inventory.” List turned to the solicitor. “I counted fifty-four chandeliers, where are the other two?”
“There are pairs over each of the smaller bedrooms, did you count them as one?” the solicitor said.
“Are you here for the pickup?” a tall man asked, seemingly busy dissolving the estate.
The other manwho came out of the study was impeccably dressed and about ten years older than Greg.
“Who are you?” Hermy asked.
“Lord David Chanteroy.”
Hermy stiffened.
“And you are?”
“Lady Hermione Ellsworth.”
“If you’ve come for your dowry, it’s been entailed,” List said.
