There was nothing more to fear from him.
“His record is eleven bushes and one skinny tree. As I recall, the weather was
particularly warm and pleasant that evening. Since it’s cold tonight, I doubt he’ll
dawdle.”
George didn’t dawdle at all. He appeared quite pleased with the fifth bush. When
he came trotting back, he saw John and yipped wildly until John finally picked
him up.
“I have never seen George toady up to anyone like he has to you.”
“I told you that very first time I saw you that I had magic with animals.”
“Yes,” I said, “you did. Give me my dog now. Good night, John.”
He didn’t say another word, for which I was profoundly grateful. But I knew he
was watching me cross the vast entrance space of the Old Hall, George in my arms,
watching me climb the stairs. I never turned around. But George did and wuffed
at him, and that’s how I knew he was still there.
While I changed into my nightgown, George explored The Blue Room. He sniffed
every corner, every piece of furniture, even sat in front of the fireplace for a
moment, watching the orange embers twist and tumble and explode lazily into
small bursts of flame. Then he stood in front of me and wuffed. “It’s all
strange, isn’t it? However, you and I are young and flexible. We’ll adapt.”
It took me nearly ten minutes to snuff out all the candles that were arranged in
beautiful candelabras all about the bedchamber, and climb into bed.
Once George was settled against my left side, his usual sleeping spot, I said, “I
want you to be vigilant, George. If a wandering spirit comes for a visit, I
expect you to alert me.”
George was snoring.
We both slept throughout the night. I always hoped that I never snored as loudly
as George did. If any spirits came to call, I didn’t know it.
To my surprise, the early morning knock on the door wasn’t Stella or my curious
Amelia. It was Brantley. He averted his eyes, since I was wearing a dressing
gown. He looked toward the armoire and said, “I am here to walk Mr. George.”
George, who was sunk so deeply in the goose down that he had to bounce up and
down on his short legs to see what was going on, glimpsed Brantley, jumped down
from the very tall bed, and stretched. Then he trotted straight to Brantley, and
lifted his paw. Brantley could have been charmed, I wasn’t certain. He didn’t
say anything, just shook George’s paw and picked him up. “We will return shortly,
my lady.” And he was gone.
Mr. George, I thought, had arrived.
However, I didn’t have a clue about myself. I hoped that Lawrence would take
care of all the questions that had bubbled out of Amelia the previous night.
Because I’d left the draperies open, early morning sunlight poured into the room.
I visited the small bathing room just next to the dressing room, then walked
about the very big bedchamber. There were three different seating arrangements,
that wonderfully soft bed set up at least three feet on a dais, tall, very wide
windows, with rich, pale blue draperies that I’d drawn to let in the dangerous
night air.
I turned and looked about my new bedchamber. My first impression was that I had
suddenly been immersed in the bluest of seas. Varying shades of blue wallpaper
covered three of the walls. The fourth wall was painted the palest blue I’d ever
seen, nearly cream. The carpet was a soft, pale blue, as light as a summer sky.
Lawrence was right. The room was charming, large, airy, and filled with light.
It wasn’t too fussy, either, which I appreciated. As I wandered over to the bell
cord to ring for hot water, I wondered why anyone, no matter the age, wouldn’t
be thoroughly delighted with The Blue Room.
What the devil was wrong with it?
Chapter Nine
A very pretty young girl appeared not ten minutes later hauling a large can of
hot water and panting hard.
“For your bath, my lady,” she said, and tried to curtsy while holding that can