Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Now, I had a job to do, and I was finally going to be able to start doing it.
And that was all I was going to think about.
CHAPTER 7
THE DAY TRIP
I swam out of sleep the next morning to what appeared to be an unusual sunny day in England and the understanding my slumbering self was the entertainment of a green-eyed Persian who, last night, brought a friend.
Snowball was lying beside me, concentrating on bathing her ruff with her tongue, and accompanying her was Gingerface, a cat I’d met last night. He was a thick-furred ginger with huge round eyes and an adorable round face, the former now aimed at me curiously.
“You’re both bed hogs,” I accused.
Snowball ignored me.
Gingerface took my speaking as an invitation to cuddle, which he did, easily and with practice, since last night he made clear his cuddling tendencies.
I buried my fingers in his fur at the same time I fell to my back and turned my head to see the smart screen told me it was six fifty-two.
I then looked up at the canopy above me.
Yesterday, I’d discovered that Lady Marie Talyn’s painting studio was a living dream.
A little cottage tucked in a corner of the gardens, abutting a field that held fluffy sheep and was flanked with two forests. It was about a five-minute walk from the main house.
And come time for the wisteria to bloom, considering the amount of it crawling all over that cottage, it was going to be an extra something to see.
It had lots of sparkling-clean windows, whitewashed walls, and just outside the front door that was off to the side, a little patio adorned with a cute cast iron bistro table and chairs and lots of pots filled with flowers.
Inside, there was a desk in the center, a black stove in a corner and a Victorian chaise lounge draped in fringed shawls across from it in the other corner. A stool at an easel with a half-finished watercolor on canvas sat across the room, just in from the door.
There was a breakfront filled with a disorganized collection of paint things, all old and undoubtedly not a bit of it fit for purpose anymore.
There were scattered threadbare rugs on the wood plank floors that had probably been usurped from the main house.
And there was a long shelf in front of the side-by-side, diamond-paned windows opposite the desk, all of it and all the space under it, containing boxes of…everything.
Journals, ledgers, letters, framed photos, unframed photos.
A cornucopia of Talyn history laid out like a mouthwatering smorgasbord in front of me.
Prudence knew I’d hit my Nirvana (probably around the time I shouted, “Oh my God, this is Nirvana!”), so she just gave me the skinny before she took her leave.
First, if I got cold and wanted a fire, since there was no other heating, I should just use the telephone (which only called to the main house) to ask if Scotty or Harry could build one for me.
Second, if I needed anything, like lunch brought out or something to drink, again just use the phone.
Third, the place might not have heat, but it did have electricity, and they’d set up Wi-Fi for me out there (so sweet!).
En fin, last night’s protocol held with people turning up in what I thought of as the plum parlor at around six thirty, and since it wasn’t going to be a celebration like last night, what I was wearing would be fine for dinner.
She then let me have at it, and I didn’t want to be that person, but I was, because I barely noticed her going.
I was dying to just grab anything, sit in the beige, buttoned, arched, tub backed antique rolling Victorian chair behind the leather-topped Victorian desk and dive in.
But that wasn’t how it worked.
I had at least a solid day of organization in front of me, and that meant cataloging and dating so when I finally jumped in, I could start at the beginning.
Therefore, that’s what I did.
By the time it occurred to me that quite a bit of it had lapsed since Prudence left, the entire space was covered in stacks of papers, books and pictures, my phone said it was six forty-seven, and since I missed lunch, I was starving.
“Shit!” I cried, shoved my phone in my back pocket, turned out the lamps and hightailed it to the big house.
I hit a parlor full of Talyns.
But only Battle (of course) raised his eyebrows at me.
Fitzgibbons smiled at me.
“Drink, Miss Vivienne?”
Since he said they had everything, I challenged him with, “A paloma, please, Mr. Fitzgibbons.”
“Right away,” he replied without missing a beat and headed to the drinks cabinet.
Everyone was sitting where they had been the night before, so I decided to sit in one of the chairs opposite, not beside, Battle.
He had no response to my changed situation whatsoever.