The car slowed as it came down the drive. Millicent let the lace curtains fall over the window and hoped Mr. Sinclair would be able to save what she now considered her home.
* * *
Andrew parked in front of the manor, got out and took a good look at the building. It was built of gray stone and seemed to have three levels. Several chimneys protruded from the roof, one with smoke billowing out of it. A cobblestone path led from the gravel drive to the wooden front door and another led around the hedges to the rear of the building. Large leafy trees adorned each side of the structure. Moss and ivy crawled up around the bay windows toward the roof. Andrew didn’t see Millicent from her small window on the third floor. She had retreated behind the curtain but was still watching.
I have three months to turn this place around, Andrew thought as he stretched his legs after the long six hour drive from Oxford. He was 360 miles away from home. His hope was to return to Oxford occasionally over the next three months to see Flora. She had been upset when he told her he was leaving. He missed her already.
“Mr. Sinclair?” asked a man who had emerged from the front door. “I’m John Wainwright. We spoke on the phone. Welcome to Wainwright Manor.” John Wainwright looked exactly as Andrew expected, good-looking and tan, a rugged outdoors man with brown hair and brown eyes.
“Let’s get you inside and settled,” John said as Andrew got his bags from the trunk of his car. Inside the reception area Andrew felt the warmth from the fireplace and detected the faint scent of lavender. The flowers on the wallpaper matched the rug that covered the hardwood floors. John led him to a large mahogany counter, behind which stood a pretty, young brunette.
“Welcome Mr. Sinclair. I’m Emily. You’ll be in Room 8. Here is your key as well as information about Wainwright Manor, services and meals. If you have any questions please let me know.”
“Thank you,” Andrew said. John then led him up the stairs to his room on the third floor.
“We have eight rooms open to guests,” John said, “and a staff of six, not including myself or my sister Millicent. We have one other receptionist, Sharon, who works part-time on the weekends. Cathy is our cook. Bethany and Claire handle housekeeping and Randall takes care of the maintenance. I’m sure you’ll meet all of them in the next few days.”
When they reached Andrew’s room on the third floor, John continued, “There are three bedrooms on this floor but only one is available to guest. The other two rooms belong to Millicent and me, just down the hall. I’ll give you some time to get settled. Dinner is a seven. I’ll see you then.”
Andrew put his suitcase on the large bed which was covered with a patchwork quilt and occupied most of the room. Next to the bed was a small night table on which sat an equally small Victorian tiffany lamp. He opened his suitcase and began to put his clothes in the antique armoire across from the bed. He placed his laptop case on the table by the window, moving the vase of fresh flowers to the windowsill. The window was open slightly and a breeze fluttered the white muslin curtains. In the corner stood a wrought-iron stand with a white and blue porcelain wash bowl and pitcher. There was a bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. Obviously John knew how to decorate a B&B even if he didn’t know how to run one, or he knew someone who could decorate.
After unpacking Andrew called Flora on her cell phone. He always called her cell phone, never her home phone. There was always the chance that her husband would answer.
“Hello Andrew,” answered Flora on the second ring.
"Hi darling,” Andrew said, sliding the suitcase under the bed and taking a seat at the table to unpack his computer. “I just got here and wanted to ring you.”
“You sound tired,” she said.
“It was a long drive. And I don’t fancy staying here, away from you for three months.”
“Andrew, we’ve been through this. It’s your job. Remember, you were the one who reassured me that we’d be okay. We’ll survive.”
“I know. But we’ve never been apart for this long,” he said. Now that he was in Land’s End he was the one who needed reassuring.
“You will be able to come back for visits every so often, right?”
“Yes, but it’s too early to say when.”
“Just ring me first, darling, so I can make arrangements. Are you by the sea?”
“Yes, I can hear the waves crashing on the rocks from my window.”
“I wish I was there with you, that we were on holiday together. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You’ll call me tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Sleep well my love.”
At seven Andrew went downstairs to dinner. The table was set for five people but there were only three seated when Andrew arrived. Besides John there was an couple who were introduced to him as Bert and Martha Kent from Pennsylvania. They were only staying a few days. To Andrew they looked like typical American tourists. He guessed them to be in their 50s and they wore matching khakis and sensible walking shoes. Bert was wearing a T-shirt with Shakespeare’s face on it and Martha was wearing a pink golf shirt from the Royal Botanic Gardens.
During the meal the conversation was all about the Kent’s trip and how much they were enjoying England. In the middle of the meal Cathy entered the room and whispered something into John’s ear.
“Cheers, Cathy,” he said and let out a rather loud sigh as she left.
“Everything all right dear?” Martha asked.
“Oh, yes. I had hoped that my sister would join us tonight but she had decided not to. She’s been taking meals in her room.”
“Is she ill?” Martha asked.
“I guess you can say that. She tends to stay in her room too often though.”
“I do that at home sometime,” Martha said. “Take dinner to my room if I have a headache or something like that.”
“Martha, these nice people don’t want to hear about your headaches,” Bert said.
“I was just trying to show some sympathy for John’s poor sister,” Martha replied defensively.
“That’s very kind of you Martha,” said John. “If you will excuse us, Andrew shall we have tea or coffee in the office so I can show you some of the manor’s financial records?”
* * *
Andrew spent the next day in John’s office examining the financial statements, budgets and marketing plans for Wainwright Manor. John had invested too much money on renovations and almost nothing on marketing. He had also underestimated the day-to-day costs of running the estate. Salaries seemed to in line but the costs for food, cleaning and office supplies were extremely over budget. At least John has a state of the art computer system with software to track everything. Before he arrived Andrew had visions of boxes filled with receipts and invoices, and dust covered ledgers. It made Andrew wonder about John’s business sense and what he had done for a living before buying the manor.
The next night Andrew went down to dinner and noticed his companions would be the same as the night before.
“I think we saw your sister this afternoon in the garden,” Bert said as dinner was being served.
“I’m sure we did,” Martha said. “A woman was sitting on a bench reading a book. But when she saw us she scurried away into the house like a little mouse.”
“I apologize for her rudeness,” John said.
“Well, I would have expected her to be a little friendlier,” Marta said. “We are guest after all.”
“Let it be, Martha,” Bert warned, looking at John and Andrew and shaking his head.
On the third day of going through financial records Andrew decided he needed a break. John was meeting with Cathy to go over the menu for next week so Andrew decided it was a good time to explore the manor and the grounds, starting with the library. When he wasn’t tied up with work, Andrew loved to read. Back in Oxford he would spend hours wandering through used book stores. In his flat back home the bookcases were overflowing to the point where he had to stack books on the floor. Flora always said he didn’t need that many books and he should get rid of them before they consumed the entire room. But Andrew had a hard time parting with his books. He felt a connection with them.
As soon as Andrew walked into the library at Wainwright Manor he felt at home. The faint smell of old books reminded him of his days at university. As he looked around Andrew estimated the collection of books numbered in the thousands. The room was larger than he expected and chairs, tables and lamps were strategically placed to encourage visitors to read or browse. Shelves of books occupied three of the walls. The sun was shining through four long, narrow windows from the fourth wall, the rays warming the hardwood floors. A wooden ladder on a runner stood along one of the walls in order to gain access to the books on the higher shelves.
Andrew scanned some of the titles. Worn leather volumes by Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway and John Steinbeck lined the shelves. Farther down Andrew spotted three shelves devoted solely to the works of William Shakespeare and he made a mental note to show the books to Bert. Looking up Andrew saw two different sets of encyclopedias as well as all six volumes of Winston Churchill’s The Second World War. Andrew turned around and was startled to see a woman sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room by the door with a book in her hands.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Andrew said.
“You didn’t Mr. Sinclair.”
“You must be . . .,” Andrew struggled to remember her name. “Uh . . . Millicent, right?”
The woman stood up and walked towards him. She was rather homely, with long, straight, dark hair, a sullen complexion and gray eyes hidden behind glasses. A large red scar ran from her right ear down her cheek to her chin. Andrew guessed her to be in her mid-twenties, a few years younger than him. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans, an olive colored sweater and was shoeless.
“Yes,” Millicent said, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Sinclair.”
“It’s Andrew, please,” he said, shaking her hand. He had expected it to be cold and dry but instead was surprisingly soft and feminine.
“My brother told me you were here. I actually saw you arrive. I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself. I haven’t been feeling well.”
“No need to apologize. I hope you are feeling better.”
“Yes,” Millicent said softly. “Today I am.”
“This is a wonderful library,” Andrew said, looking around. “So many books.”
“Yes, I’ve read them all.”
“All of them?” Andrew asked incredibly. “There must be thousands here. You must be brilliant.”
“No.”
“Have also read the set of encyclopedias?”
“Yes, it took me two years to read them all though,” Millicent said, looking embarrassed by his amazement. “I have a lot of time to read. It’s my favorite thing to do.”
“I wish I had more time to read,” Andrew said. “Work, and well other things, takes up most of my time.”
The two were quiet for a few moments. Andrew watched as Millicent walked along the shelves, gently touching the books as if they were soft furs. She must be lonely, he thought. He suspected she didn’t have many friends. He immediately felt sorry for her.
“Would you, if you’re not too busy, mind showing me around the grounds?” Andrew asked. I’ve been in John’s office for the last three days and need to walk around a bit.”
“Me?” Millicent asked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have John show you around?”
“He’s talking to Cathy about menus,” Andrew said. “Anyway, all John would want to do is talk about business. I need a break and I’m sure you would be better company.”
Millicent led Andrew to the garden behind the manor. Flowers were starting to bloom in the warm late April sun. Roses, lavender, lilacs, azaleas, rhododendrons, hydrangeas, violets and tulips filled the colorful garden. A cobblestone path weaved its way through trimmed hedges to a birdbath at the center of the garden. Beyond were green and brown moors. A gate at the back of the garden was the start of a dirt path that led half a mile to the cliffs and then down to the beach.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Andrew said of the garden.
Millicent bent down to smell a rose. “It’s a great place to sit at dusk, right before the sun sets over the ocean. I often read out here.” Millicent cupped the peach rose gently in her hand. “This is an English rose. It’s called Jude the Observer and is named for the writer Thomas Hardy. And the yellow ones over there are called The Poet.”
“You know an awful lot about flowers. Do you garden?” Andrew asked.
“No. There’s a book in our library about roses.”
Millicent and Andrew walked through the garden, out the gate and followed the path to the cliffs.
“You live in Oxford?” Millicent asked as they walked.
“Yes.”
“Do you like it there?”
“I do. Where did you live before John bought the manor?”
“I lived in Oxford as well.”
“Really? Well it’s a small world, isn’t it?” Andrew asked.
“Yes. Things in Oxford didn’t work out as I had planned so I decided to come live with John. He bought the manor just after his divorce. Are you married?”
“No, but I do have a . . . girlfriend. Her name is Flora.”
“Pretty name,” Millicent said, keeping her head down. “You must miss her.”
“Yes, I do. But I talk to her every day. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Well, are you married? Have a boyfriend?”
Millicent stopped walking and looked at Andrew, trying to figure out if he was silently laughing at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Why did you stop?”
“I’m fine,” Millicent said after a moment and started walking again. “No, I’ve never been married and I don’t have a boyfriend.”
They reach the top of the cliff and looked over the Atlantic.
“This is spectacular,” Andrew said in awe.
“I can spend hours just sitting here, watching the waves. The path continues down to the shore. Actually this is part of the longest continuous footpath in Britain,” Millicent said.
“It starts in Dorset in the south, goes north around the peninsula all the way to the Bristol Channel.”
“That sounds like a very, very long walk,” Andrew laughed. “Would you like to go down to the water?”
“You can if you like,” Millicent said. “I’ve become rather tired all of a sudden. I think I’ll return to the manor.”
“I’ll walk you back.”
“You don’t have to,” Millicent protested.
“It’s all right. I can come back later. And I should try and get some more work done this afternoon.”
Back at the manor Andrew asked, “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Afterwards, would you mind recommending a book for me to read?”
Millicent smiled. “Of course.”
Before dinner Andrew called Flora. He told her about the manor and Millicent.
“Don’t you start to fancy her,” Flora warned jokingly.
“You’ll have no worries there,” Andrew said. “She is not a pretty woman to say the least. But she is kind, although somewhat reserved. She spends all her time reading. She must be extremely smart, although she doesn’t claim to be. I’m not sure she has any friends.”
“Poor thing. It must be hard for her.”
“I don’t know,” Andrew said thoughtfully. “She wasn’t forced to come here. But she seems rather sad.”
“Well remember, it’s not your job to make her happy, regardless of how sorry you feel for her. Get their finances in order and come home to me.”
“I may actually be able to get back to Oxford in two weeks or so.”
“That would be wonderful,” Flora said. “I miss you. Life is so dreadful when I can’t see you.”
Meanwhile Millicent was in her room trying to decide what to wear for dinner. It was the first time since she moved to Land’s End that she even cared about what to wear to dinner. But today was also the first time since she arrived that anyone had shown her any attention. Occasionally a guest would make polite conversation and then completely forget about her when they moved on to something else. It had been a long time since a stranger had taken an interest in her, let alone a handsome stranger. For a moment Millicent let herself remember George and the life she left in Oxford three years earlier. The pain was still there but not as strong.
Millicent would be the first to admit she didn’t make much of an effort when it came to meeting new people. Just yesterday she fled from the garden and into the house when she saw the Kents approaching. How foolish she was.
She shut her closet door without taking anything out. Thinking of George made her remember her promise to herself to never to get close to anyone ever again. She knew she would just get hurt again. Andrew had only been nice to her and tolerated her company because she was John’s sister. He felt sorry her, she could tell. She recognized the look of pity she’d seen on so many faces over the last three years. And, after all, Andrew had a girlfriend. Millicent wondered what she was like. Probably beautiful. Andrew would definitely attract beautiful women, with his wavy, light brown hair and bright, blue eyes and dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. He would never be interested in someone as ugly and scarred as Millicent. She knew she was scarred both physically and mentally.
She considered changing her mind and having dinner sent up to her room but John would learn that she and Andrew had finally met and would consider it rude if she didn’t join them. She heard the door to Andrew’s room open and close as Andrew went down to dinner. The clock in the hall began to chime seven o’clock. Millicent took a deep breath and headed downstairs.
Bert and Martha Kent, the manor’s only guests, had gone to Penzance for dinner so it was just John, Andrew and Millicent. Millicent sat silently at the table as Andrew asked John how he had come to buy the manor house.
“I’d just gone through a nasty divorce. Cynthia, that’s my ex, expected a lot but, thankfully, my solicitor argued that she didn’t deserve much. She’d had an affair,” John said.
“After that I decided I needed a change. When I found this place I quit my job as a computer programmer. I really liked the idea of working for myself and living in the country.”
“That was quite a risk,” Andrew said.
“It was exactly what I needed,” John said. “Although it turns out I’m not quite the business man I thought I was.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Andrew said. “By the time I’m done things will be in the black and you’ll know everything you need to know.”
“Tourist season is about to start up again,” John said. “But the Land’s End Hotel is killing us. They’ve got a sound and light show, a suspension bridge and even a labyrinth. How can I compete with that?”
“You don’t. Instead you target a different audience. Maybe people who want something a little more subdued and quiet,” Andrew said.
Millicent sat quietly, listening to Andrew and John talk business. Andrew would occasionally ask her opinion about something and she would say a few words. She didn’t eat much. She didn’t have much of an appetite these last few years and she knew it concerned John. After the plates were cleared Andrew asked Millicent if she would recommend a book for him.
“Did she tell you that she has read everything in that library?” John asked.
“Yes, it’s amazing,” Andrew replied.
“You’d be even more amazed at how much money she spends on books,” John said.
“John, please,” Millicent whispered, embarrassed by her brother’s comment.
“Well you two enjoy yourselves. I’m going into town.” John stood and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
After he left, Millicent said, “He has a girlfriend in Penzance. He spends a couple nights a week with her. Her name is Sophie. She owns a book store in town. The Book Rack.”
When they entered the library, Millicent asked, “What kinds of books do you like to read? Science fiction? Mysteries? Classics?”
“Anything is fine with me.”
Millicent scanned the shelves. She took one book down, looked at it for a moment and then returned it to its place. After browsing for a few more minutes she chose another book.
“Have you read this?” she asked, handing him The Shipping News.
“No,” Andrew said, taking the book and reading the inside cover.
“It won the Pulitzer for fiction in 1994. I think you might like it.”
Andrew turned to the title page and looked up at Millicent, “It’s a signed copy.”
“Annie Proulx came to Oxford for a book signing. I used to attend a lot of those when I lived there.”
“Well, thank you. I think I’ll start on this tonight.”
“Please let me know what you think of it.”
“I will.”
Wow Heather, you're really good !
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