Page 6 of Secrets of Capell Manor
Ridley stood for a moment. He crossed the room and grabbed a hand mirror hanging from a peg on the wardrobe. He carefully tiptoed back over to where Benton lay. He placed the edge of the mirror under Benton’s nose and waited, holding his breath. Condensation appeared on the mirror.
He’s alive!Ridley couldn’t wait to tell Marta he had to do the mirror test on old Benton again this morning. Grinning, he completed his task at the fireplace and left the room. Back down in the kitchen, Ridley was eager to eat the breakfast Marta had prepared. Porridge and yesterday’s bread with jam awaited him. The kitchen was warm and comfortable. Marta joined him at the table with a cup of tea, helped herself to a slice of bread, and added a generous dollop of the sweet fruit mixture. The early morning was their time to chat before the rest of the household rose.
“Sir Devlin nearly killed me,” offered Ridley.
Marta’s eyes widened and she choked a bit while sipping her tea.
“Just now, when I stoked his fire. I must have startled him when I entered the room.”
Marta stared at him, unable to comment. “I never even heard him get out of bed, and I didn’t see him move either. Like a dark, silent wolf waiting to pounce. No, not a wolf…worse than that—a hellhound he was. Couldn’t see ‘em, couldn’t hear ‘em. He was just…there. He could have slit my throat in a second.” Ridley put another spoonful of porridge in his mouth.
“Oh dear sweet Father,” Marta said as she crossed herself. “When Sir Devlin comes down, and you take the food out, youwill apologize and ask him if he would rather you not enter his room in the morning. We cannot appear rattled, and we certainly do not want to rile this man.”
Ridley’s eyes widened. He frowned at the thought of talking to Sir Devlin, but he nodded in agreement.
“And I thought Benton was dead again this morning,” Ridley stated matter-of-factly. “Had to use the mirror again.”
“Ridley!” Marta exclaimed. “Don’t be so flippant.”
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t long before the light thump of small feet was heard on the stairs, and young Luella ran down. She was a welcome distraction from the serious conversation that left the room quiet and heavy. Her honey-blond hair looked like a comb had never touched it, and her tunic dress was worn backward. Obviously, the child had not waited for Lady Rosalind or even her older sister to help her dress this morning. At four years of age, she wanted to do everything herself.
“Child! Where are your house slippers? You’ll catch your death!” Marta chastised.
But no one could be cross with Luella, not for long anyway. Luella smiled, and her large brown eyes twinkled. She was a ray of sunshine in the room.
Marta, who was quite used to the little one appearing in disarray, grabbed a basket from the shelf next to the table and pulled out a comb.
“Come, little one, bring that tangled mess of hair here, and let’s see what we can do.”
Luella decided to comply with Marta’s request and the cook began to work through the tangles carefully.
The pounding of larger feet was then heard on the stairs, and down came Kaylyn. She stomped rather unladylike towards Marta and Luella and, with a dramatic sigh, tossed her younger sibling’s house slippers on the floor. Then, with a roll of her eyes,she went to the cookfire, spooned some porridge from the iron pot, and sat down to eat.
“Mama says your feet are going to freeze and fall off, you know.” With a slight grin, Kaylyn directed this tidbit of information toward her younger sister.
Kaylyn, four years older than Luella, was cranky most mornings and not one to waste the sour attitude, she enjoyed aggravating her sibling.
The younger child replied, “That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is,” Kaylyn shot back.
“No, it’s not!”
“It’s true! Your feet will rot right off!”
And from there, the two girls argued back and forth. Ridley listened and grinned but did not join in the fray.
“Girls, girls! Stop the bickering. We have much to do today, and we have guests. You must be on your best behavior,” Lady Rosalind implored as she entered the kitchen from the servants’ staircase.
Dressed in a practical long-sleeve white linen chemise with a dark blue floor-length tunic, she wore a simple rope belt around her waist. In spite of Lord Edmond never allowing funds for fine dresses and accessories, Lady Rosalind looked beautiful. She wore her long chestnut brown hair in a tidy braid that trailed down her back, but curls escaped the braid at her temples and in front of her ears, framing her face. The dark circles under her eyes showed that Rosalind had not slept well at all last night. She filled a bowl with porridge and joined everyone at the table.
“Girls, I do not have the strength to endure such bickering this early in the morning. I barely slept a wink,” she said as she took a bite of the warm porridge.
With eyes downcast, Kaylyn and Luella whispered in unison, “Sorry, Mama.”
Rosalind looked up from her bowl and gave the girls a wan smile. The kitchen was quiet as everyone finished their breakfast. This morning the mood was quiet and filled with uncertainty and a feeling of dread.
The door that led from the kitchen to the great hall opened. Benton, looking unflappable as ever, entered the kitchen.
