“Nonsense,” he smiled. “I believe it now
important to relieve my soul of some of its burden. I must
admit, I have misgivings as to what will be believed by
you—or by your readers. Ah, here is Jeffries. Please see
our guest upstairs.”
The valet/butler, a tall broad-shouldered man with
a pleasant face, led me back to the entrance hall and up a
wide staircase to the second floor where we paused before
a heavy door. I was stunned when he opened it. The
interior of the room was easily forty by fifty feet, and the
glorious four-poster bed was the largest I had ever beheld.
“Good Lord, Jeffries!” I managed. “Surely this is
the master bedroom?”
He smiled. “Many of the manor’s bedrooms are
quite large. But you are correct, sir. Lord Kettering wished
you to have it for your stay. Please, sir, no arguments. He
was most insistent. His wardrobe is still within the closet,
but the armoire has been cleared and your luggage already
carefully unpacked into it. Dinner is at eight o’clock. Here
is the bell rope if you need anything at all.”
Then I was alone. I paced about the marvelous
room, somewhat embarrassed, and touched the sumptuous
upholstery on the many pieces of furniture. I was also
fairly certain that the painting above the roaring fireplace
was an original Rembrandt. The one slight imperfection in
the room may have been a result of this great blaze. The
chimney damper must have needed adjusted, for the air
smelled somewhat of soot and smoke.
20