Page 6 of Beyond Her Manner
“I don’t know yet, but I won’t rest easy until I’m back where I rightfully belong.” Gillian reached for a button beside the mantelpiece. “I’ll have some tea brought through.” As she pushed the button, she realised her mistake and let out a sigh. Having no staff was going to take some getting used to. “I will make us some tea,” she corrected herself.
“Can you remember how?” Bridget teased.
Gillian narrowed her eyes at her friend as she left the room. Since moving into Kingsford Manor, she’d barely lifted a finger to prepare food or drink. It all arrived at the touch of a button and was served to her liking. When she returned with the teatray, it was to find Bridget beckoning a sleepy Agatha onto her lap, where she curled up into a ball.
“Why does she never do that for me?” Gillian grumbled, setting the tea tray down on the table.
“Have you tried asking her?”
“No. I pick her up, put her there, and then she walks off.”
Bridget snickered as Gillian passed her a cup and saucer.
“We only got her to save money on pest control.”
“A cat isn’t a commodity, Gillian. Try treating her like a member of the family rather than a member of staff.” Taking a sip from her cup, she asked, “Have you changed tea?” Leaning forward, she lifted the lid on the teapot. A single teabag bobbed about in the murky water.
Gillian’s face flushed, and she set her cup and saucer on the table. “Tightening my belt is going to be a challenge.”
“What are you doing about Dudley?”
“The new owner has agreed he can stay where he is until I make new arrangements. I can’t bear moving him; we’ve never been apart. I was hoping they might allow him to stay, depending on their situation with their own horses, of course.”
“They might not have any.”
“Don’t be silly, Bridget; all the right country folk come with horses.”
“I don’t.”
Gillian lifted an eyebrow at her. “You can’t ride.” Checking her watch, she drained her teacup, winced at the taste, and stood. “I’ll clear up.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Bridget asked, as she quickly finished her tea.
“Would you mind checking the top floors? To make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“Of course,” Bridget replied with a smile as she followed Gillian into the great hall and then made her way upstairs.
Gillian headed into the kitchen to wash up. As she packed the clean china into a box, she took in the kitchen. It was the first thing she’d changed when she moved in. Jonathon was a socialite and enjoyed drinking and partying to excess, and Gillian knew the space wouldn’t be able to keep up with the kind of future they had planned for the manor.
She designed the kitchen with the practicality of a commercial setup in mind, fitting it with stainless steel surfaces and appliances from top to bottom. A small area near the kitchen table, which held a stunning view over the estate’s southern expanse, was left more homely for family use, featuring a handful of cupboards, a marble worktop, and a traditional butler sink.
Whilst the kitchen remodel may not have aligned with the house’s Tudor character, it had been well received by the staff, earning her their admiration. It went on to cater countless parties over the decades. Even though it had become a little tired in recent years, it was still perfectly serviceable.
She opened the door leading off the kitchen, stepping into a space that starkly contrasted with the sleek stainless steel. The dining room, in particular, was one she would miss spending time in. An elegantly carved table was positioned at the centre of the room,in front of a large window. Being south-facing, the sun provided an abundance of light for meals throughout the day. A warmth radiated from the dark wooden floors, wood panelling, and historic fireplace, particularly in the winter months. French windows on the west side of the room led into a well-manicured garden and allowed a welcome breeze to flow in during the hot summer months.
Returning to the kitchen, Gillian collected the box she’d left there and, taking one last look around the room, suppressed the urge to be sick.
She found Bridget coming down the grand wooden staircase as she returned to the hall.
“All clear up there?”
“Yes, except for what looked like some old paintings in the attic. Should I bring them down?”
“No, leave them. They can be someone else’s problem.”
“Aren’t they worth anything?”
“No, just another money-wasting hobby of Jonathon’s. He went through a phase of picking up old paintings, thinking they would be worth something. The problem was he knew nothing about art. Thinking back, I don’t think he knew much about anything.”
