Arrival of the Traveler (Waldgrave Book 1) (3 page)

Everything was quiet; for a moment, she wondered if it had been her imagination. Then, to her great horror, she saw the greenhouse door creep open as a face topped with brown, ruffled hair peered out.

Yelping, she ran into her room and locked the door behind her. She backed away, still scared witless, as she heard footsteps coming down the hall. She saw a shadow stop in front of her door, and thought she heard soft chuckling as the shadow moved away and the footsteps retreated. Lena swallowed hard.

She looked over at the clock and decided it might be a better choice to stay in her room until it was time for lunch. She got the book out of her carryon bag and started to read it, even though she had already read it four times before and there was a perfectly charming library less than fifty feet away. Two hours rolled by before a loud knock came at her door. Still scared, Lena was afraid to answer it.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s Mrs. Ralston, dear, who did you think it would be!” Mrs. Ralston sounded very annoyed.

Opening the door, Lena saw Mrs. Ralston’s face, puckered as though there were a sour taste in her mouth. “May I ask what you’ve been doing up here? Master Collins has been waiting for you to join him at lunch for nearly thirty minutes!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Ralston!” Lena wanted to hug the woman for coming to find her, but thought this would be viewed as highly inappropriate, and settled for a good apology.

As they started down the hall together, Lena tried to explain herself.

“It was that boy—the one who does the yard work!”

“Yes, and what’s he to do with your absence?”

“He scared the crap out of me!” Mrs. Ralston shot Lena a look of shear poison. “I—sorry. He really got me going though. We had a little fight in the greenhouse, and he chased me up to my room, and I swear I thought he was going to hurt me!”

“Well, David’s no threat to anybody. I understand he can be a little intense at times, but really, that’s all.” They started down the library stairs. “He’s a strange boy. He keeps to himself more than any other child I’ve ever known, and doesn’t like to be interfered with.”

“Mrs. Ralston…”

Mrs. Ralston stopped at the bottom of the stairs and faced the girl very frankly. Seeing that Lena was genuinely upset, she made the decision to intervene.

“David comes to this house from a troubled past, Lena. He won’t discuss what his circumstances were before he arrived here, but suffice it to say that he has no decent family and something has happened to make him distrust the world. Leave him be and you’ll both be the better for it.” Seeing that this explanation did little to mollify Lena’s concerns, Mrs. Ralston sighed, and then added, “I’ll have a word with him, if it will make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” Lena said quietly.

Mrs. Ralston walked her to the dining room, where Uncle Howard sat impatiently crutching his head on one hand.

“Well?” He said, looking at Lena.

Blushing, Lena opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Ralston got to it first.

“Children at play, I’m afraid. We’ve already had our little chat, so you can go right to lunch.”

Lena sat down.

“You know, you didn’t have to wait for me,” she said with a wry smile.

“In this house, Lena, disrespect is not tolerated. Even in response to another’s disrespect,” Howard responded flatly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, try not to do it again. I’m happy to hear you’ve met our David; what did you think of him?” Howard smiled and started into his lunch.

“Uh…He’s great.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. We got along just great…” Despite their earlier confrontation, Lena saw no reason to get him in trouble with both Ralston 
and
 Uncle Howard; she had been, after all, the one who had picked the fight. Really. “He’s your adopted son, or something?”

Howard stopped with his knife and fork poised over his plate, like a musician awaiting the instruction of a conductor. “No…he’s more like a foster child.”

“One that works for you?” Lena asked curiously. She hadn’t meant to do anything but make conversation, but the look on Howard’s face seemed to make her think she had accused him of something.

Howard looked stumped, but then his eyes lit up. “He’s not exactly a foster child either, no. We—Rosaleen and I—met him through some friends of friends, and found that he needed a home and some money to start out on his own when he was old enough. We took him in out of charity. It isn’t a formal situation at all…he only pitches in like the rest of us. David keeps the grounds, Rosaleen keeps the house, and I—“

“Manage the family inheritance.” Lena’s voice echoed Howard’s as he spoke.

“—exactly.” Howard smiled good-naturedly. “I suspect that we’ll need to find some ways for you to pitch in now, too.”

Lena tried not to let the sarcasm she felt sneak into her voice. “Great.”

Howard bowed over his food again. Lena watched him stare directly down at his plate, purposefully avoiding her gaze, and wondered if he was just as put off by his sudden circumstances as she was by hers. He had lived almost alone until she came along; he had eaten alone until today. It couldn’t be an easy adjustment for him, either.

“Uncle Howard?”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to ask you something about the upstairs hall…”

“Mmmhmm. Which one?”

“Oh—the second floor hall.” Lena had almost forgotten the expanse of the house.

“Okay.”

“Well, I noticed that there used to be some pictures or something hanging on the walls, and now—“

“They’ve been taken down to repaint. That’s all. Redecorating. I didn’t much like them there, anyway. They probably won’t be returning.” Howard cleared his throat, and clutched his silverware aggressively.

“Oh. Okay. What color is it going to be next?”

“Sorry?”

“You said you were repainting the hall…” Lena’s voice trailed off.

“Oh…uh, same color. Same color as now.” Howard was beyond annoyed with her; he was afraid.

“Okay…” Lena eyed him suspiciously. Howard was beginning to sweat, and she was starting to question if 
all
 of his odd behavior could be explained by an upset in his routine.

“Well, that was a good lunch, now wasn’t it?” His food was barely touched. He patted his napkin gingerly to his mouth, scratched his ear, and rose, almost bolting from the room. Once the kitchen door closed behind him, Lena rose, intending to silently follow him, but stopped when she heard voices in the kitchen.

“Rosaleen, send David out for paint. I need the second floor hall redone.” Lena’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like being lied to.

“And when did we decide this?” Rosaleen’s voice was softly interrogative, like a mother questioning the poor decision of a child.

“Just now. If you could have him on it by tonight it’d be much appreciated.” Howard sighed heavily; Lena pressed her ear hard against the door as Howard’s voice lowered. “…avoid further questions.”

“Well, certainly Master Collins…”

“Thank you.” And she heard footsteps leaving toward the living room.

“Is something wrong? Howard?” Rosaleen still had the quiet lilt of superiority tingeing her voice.

The footsteps stopped. “No, not wrong. Not as expected, perhaps.” And he walked away.

What was that supposed to mean? And why was he so upset about the pictures in the upstairs hall? Having lived a life of constant change, Lena was not familiar with the feeling of intrigue that was boiling up inside of her. It made her mind race and her hands shake to think that there was something in this house that her uncle didn’t want her to know; he had a secret worth keeping, even from a nobody like his niece. A complex interpersonal relationship—one very much unlike the open and honest relationship she'd had with her father.

It was the kind of thing that Lena had only read about in novels.

She waited a moment before entering the kitchen, intent on finding out before the curiosity killed her. She feigned surprise. “Mrs. Ralston, I didn’t know you were in here.”

Mrs. Ralston didn’t seem impressed by Lena’s acting as she glanced up from the small pile of burlap brown potatoes that she was peeling. “Well, yes, the kitchen is one of the busiest rooms in the home, dear.”

“Not with you around, ma’am.”  Lena said with a charming smile.  "Everything just seems to fall in line."

Ralston raised her eyebrows at the attempted brown nosing. She’d seen the trick before.

Lena went on. “So, Uncle Howard and I were just talking about how he’s been planning for a while to repaint the upstairs hall.”

“The second floor?” Mrs. Ralston replied ordinarily. “Well, yes, I suppose he’s been talking about that for a few days now…”

Lena waited until Mrs. Ralston seemed to have her attention back on the potatoes before she struck. “Yeah, and…Well, let me just ask you, what do 
you
 think of his color selection? I mean, honestly, I was a little surprised.”

Mrs. Ralston’s mouth fell slightly open, and she looked up at Lena, seeming to realize what had just happened. She turned away and didn’t speak for a minute. When she turned back, she looked completely calm. “Well, I think the Master has fine taste in decoration.”

Sidling up next to her, Lena whispered, “Mrs. Ralston, what color is Uncle Howard painting the second floor hall?”

Ralston turned away again, pretending to wipe up a spot on the counter. The slight blush that had graced her face before had left, leaving her cheeks very pale.

“I’m sure it’s not my place to say.” They locked eyes for a moment, and then Mrs. Ralston swept out of the room. Lena stood, shocked. Mrs. Ralston had just admitted, in her own prim way, that she was lying for Howard. Lena turned and tried to follow her, but she was already halfway up the stairs and moving at a fast pace.

“Mrs. Ralston!”

Up into the library, into the hall, to the right…

“Mrs. Ralston, wait! Please!”

Lena turned the corner into the second story hall just in time to see the hem of Mrs. Ralston’s dress disappear beyond the last door at the right end of the hall.

She dashed after her, following Mrs. Ralston right into a room that seemed to be some sort of study. The odd thing was that upon entering the room, Lena saw a desk, a sitting area, some small bookcases, a mini bar…but no Mrs. Ralston. And no stairs, and no other doors. This room, which Lena had just distinctly watched Mrs. Ralston enter, held no Mrs. Ralston. She walked the perimeter of the room several times, attempting to ascertain where the aged woman had disappeared to, but found no suspicious seams in the walls or secret doors. There was a light buzzing in her head, like she had very suddenly come down with altitude sickness; it probably had to do with the fact that she hadn’t eaten much at lunch.

Determined not to be outwitted, Lena grabbed one of the books from a nearby bookcase, sat at the desk, and waited. Mrs. Ralston had to come back at some point…

Five hours and two hundred and fifty-three pages later, there was a knock at the door. Lena looked over the top of her book, 
Moby Dick
, at Mrs. Ralston as she entered the room.

“I thought I’d find you in here,” Mrs. Ralston said high-handedly.

Lena sat up straighter in her seat. “How did you—“

“It’s a big house, dear. And trust me, as far as houses go, those who clean them know them best.” She smiled coyly.

Lena sighed and threw her book onto the desk, where it landed with a noisy clap. “Well, what is it?”

“Dinner is at seven. The Master asked me to remind you after the mishap earlier.” Mrs. Ralston smiled again, this time wider.

“Thank you,” Lena said in a defeated tone, her eyes wandering the room once more, searching for the secret escape hatch.

“It’s been my pleasure.” Mrs. Ralston started to leave, but then poked her head back into the room. “And dear, dinner at Waldgrave is a formal affair. I trust you have something to wear?” Mrs. Ralston raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, I’ll find something.” Lena had only one formal dress; because she had moved around so much, and no one but her father had ever seen her more than once in a formal situation, it had been all that she had required. It was a black dress that was supposed to be ankle-length, but she had outgrown it by three inches since she had bought it; she vaguely reflected that she had worn it to two funerals in the last month. It would have to do for tonight.

“Remember dear, seven o’clock.” Mrs. Ralston turned and exited the room.

Lena made a face once the old woman had turned away. Seeing no reason to stay, she picked up 
Moby Dick
, put it back on the self, and went out into the hall. It was half blue, half white now, and Lena crinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of the heavy paint fumes.

And standing halfway down the hall was the last person she wanted to see.

“Hey, princess!”

Lena turned and went back into the study. She closed the door, but to her dismay, found there was no lock. She sat with her back to the door, hoping to brace herself if David tried to come in. But he didn’t. Standing outside the door, he started talking in an unexpectedly civilized manner.