Page 10 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
Huh. “So you took visitors around the rooms?”
“I did.”
“I don’t remember much from my visit there,” she confessed. “But I saw some pics on the Hall’s website last night, and the rooms looked amazing.”
“Pics?” Her grandmother’s brow furrowed.
“Pictures, Gran.”
“Oh, Liv, I don’t like how you insist on shortening every word.”
Said the woman calling her “Liv.” “It must’ve been so interesting to share the history of the Hall,” Liv said, steering her grandmother back to the subject at hand.
Her grandmother nodded, her eyes lighting as she shared about the famous painted staircase, and the artworks from Dutch masters to such notables as Correggio and Joshua Reynolds, to the Grade II listed Orangery dating from the mid-1700s, to gardens shaped by the great Capability Brown.
“So how can such a wonderful place be closed?”
Her grandmother’s expression shuttered.
“Gran, truly, I don’t mean to pry, but you know I love old buildings. I think it’s genetic, as I’m pretty sure you’re the reason Mum insisted we visit all the National Trust historic homes in the state—”
“They can hardly be considered old when they’re not even two hundred years.” Her grandmother sniffed again.
Well, not when compared to places dating back many centuries, she supposed. “So anyway, when I visited the Hall’s gardens yesterday—”
“They’re not open on weekdays. Only every second Saturday.”
“I know that now.” She shuddered. “I got told off by Liam someone.”
Her grandmother glanced at her quickly. “You met him?”
“Him and his dog. I think he called it CeeCee. I’m pretty sure it wanted to eat me.”
“All bark. She’s a sweet thing, really. And it’s George’s dog.”
“Who’s George?”
Another look, as if Gran weighed up what to say. Good grief. What was with all the mystery?
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t actually care whose dog it is. But like I said to Marge yesterday, if they want visitors, they need to do something about that dog. It’s not exactly friendly. Oh, and they should do something about the website. The pictures are interesting but kind of dark. And the website’s not exactly user friendly either.”
“You spoke to Marge about this?”
“Well, not about the website, because I didn’t know about that then. Honestly, it wouldn’t be that hard to make it look better. It just looks clunky. But I suppose it doesn’t matter if the place never opens.”
Her grandmother’s brow pinched, her gaze lowering as if she was thinking very deeply. She shifted, her gaze out the rain-splattered window that suggested the Hall’s gardens wouldn’t be open today.
“Gran? Are you okay?”
“I’m tired.”
“Do you want to rest? I can leave if you like. We can do the Zoom call with Mum and the others tomorrow if you prefer.”
“I think that would be best.” She held out her hand, and Liv clasped it. “I am glad you’re here. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Perhaps you can ask Marge to give me a call sometime soon. We have some things to discuss.”
“I will.” Liv squeezed her hand, then pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s weathered cheek. “I love you.”
“Oh, go on with you,” her grandmother said.
