Page 24 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
Uncle Hubert gave the man a polite nod as he headed out into the warm morning sunshine.There was something about the bright day that chased away all her fears and apprehension.The carriage waited on the gravel drive, its lacquered exterior shining brightly.Cheerfully.The driver sat perched on the seat holding the reins.The footman stood to the side waiting patiently for the arrival of her uncle.
Uncle Hubert seemed unbothered by the impatient look on both men’s faces.When they were out of the house and closer to the carriage, he paused and turned to her.
“I do hope you fare well here, my dear.I don’t want to worry about you,” he said.
“There’s nothing to worry about.”Even as she said it, forcing a smile, a quiver of fear flickered through her.“I’ll be fine here.”
He cast a glance toward the garden.“I hope you’ll hire a groundskeeper and a butler, at the very least.”
“I plan to put out a solicitation as soon as I’m able.”
“Good.”He kissed her cheek.“Take care.And, Victoria, dear…” He paused, his eyes flicking back toward the house.“Please take care of yourself.”
Something about the way he said it sent a chill through her.She wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her, but she sensed it was a warning somehow.As though he didn’t quite trust Gabriel.And perhaps he didn’t.
Perhapsshedidn’t, either, but she was here.As soon as she had the manor properly staffed, she’d find a way to dismiss the caretaker for good.She didn’t need him skulking about the shadows, after all.
“Come see us when you can,” Uncle Hubert said.
She nodded.“I promise.”
Then he was stepping into the carriage.The footman closed the door, sealing him inside.Moments later, he was off.The carriage clattered down the gravel drive toward the road, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake and a sense of dread coiling through her gut.
Chapter 9
Victoriaclosedthefrontdoor behind her with a hollow click that echoed through the cavernous foyer.Dust veiled the floor in a thin film.Cobwebs draped from the corners like tattered lace, and the once-grand chandelier hung motionless above her.There seemed to be dust and cobwebs and neglect everywhere she looked.
Her uncle was right.This house, as proud and sprawling as it was, needed help.It needed life again.
She would start with staff.
But first, food.
She turned toward the dining room, her stomach hollow.Maybe some remnants of breakfast remained.But when she stepped through the archway, the long table was already cleared.Not a crumb in sight.The room was silent.A faint clink drifted from beyond.
She followed the sound to the kitchen.
The moment she pushed the door open, she halted.Surprise etched through her.
Gabriel stood at the sink, sleeves rolled to his elbows, rinsing the final teacup.He moved with quiet precision, his back to her, utterly unaware—or unconcerned—by her presence.He placed the cup on a cloth to dry and turned, finding her staring.
“Oh,” she said, breath catching.“You’ve already cleared everything.I thought perhaps there was a cook I hadn’t met yet.”
He reached for a linen towel, dried his hands in smooth, practiced strokes, then met her gaze.His face, as always, was unreadable.
“There is no cook, Miss Ravenwood,” he said simply.“I prepare what’s necessary.”
“You?”The word slipped out, tinged with disbelief.“You do all this yourself?”
That explained the dust.The disrepair.He was only one man.And this house—this estate—was far too much for one person to manage.
“It’s part of my duties,” he said, voice neutral, practiced.
She crossed her arms, gaze sweeping the room.Unlike the rest of Ravenfell, the kitchen was tidy.Counters gleamed.Copper pots hung in perfect rows above the stove.No splatters.No crumbs.No clutter.Every drawer and cabinet shut tight, everything in its place.
His place.
This was his domain.
