New Beginnings

The carriage wheels churned over the gravel, sending small pebbles ricocheting against the sides. The tapping of the raindrops harmonised beautifully with the pattering of pebbles, tempting Emily to try dozing off. She doubted Mary, her lady's maid would mind given the gentle snoring emanating from her corner of the carriage. Grinning ruefully, Emily wished for a distraction.

The rain was falling heavily, creating a rhythmic pattering sound against the roof. Emily pushed her window open a little, breathing in the scent of the wet earth, feeling rejuvenated by the freshness of the rain. She could never read in a carriage; the combination always left her nauseated and a headache she couldn't shake for days. So she was resigned to staring out the window, watching as they left the close-set buildings of Town far behind. Within an hour, the sprawl of buildings, the smokiness to which she'd got used, had transformed with startling urgency. Grey buildings melted into green fields separated by stone borders and wooden fences, rambling brooks and verdant hills that awakened a thrill through her.

In her twenty-five years, she'd never left Town, turning down invitations to country parties due to the severe lack of funds needed to equip her with a full set of dresses. She'd always felt a step behind when her friends spoke of the delights of a country estate as if bored by the sloth-like pace of country living. The auburn glow of the morning light glinted off the slight drizzle, casting a haze of romance over the lush greenery and she wished she was a skilled artist who could capture the scene through brush and canvas. Instead, she concentrated as hard as she could, memorizing all the details she could focus on. She liked to save beautiful memories so she could use them in especially trying situations.

Like when Lady Alain droned on about the virtues of women who didn't read books or newspapers. Or when Mr. Carmine tried to dance with her while leering down her dress and stepping on her feet. That's when her beautiful memories came in handy. She could be transported beyond painful feet and anger that she had to contain. She sometimes felt like she could see beyond what was in front of her, hazy angles of memories or dreams coming forth but her mother had once caught her doing just that during a dull dinner and warned her to be cautious. She'd explained to fifteen-year-old Emily that when that blank look crossed her face, some might take it for boredom but others might take it as a sign. A whisper that Emily might be thinking of magic. For regular people, this would have been a laughable theory. But for the Lovingtons, it would have meant their instant dismissal from polite society.

So Emily learned to hoard her beautiful memories for the worst moments. And really, Lady Alain's lectures constituted a dire situation indeed. Sighing at the beautiful landscape beyond her window, she wondered how much further Carlsdale would be from Town. About an hour had passed since they'd begun their early journey. Silently calculating, she estimated they had about another hour to go before they entered their newly inherited estate.

She hadn't been lying when she'd comforted her brother, she truly viewed the enterprise of moving to Carlsdale Manor as an adventure. It also didn't hurt to be a sister of an Earl. Their sudden elevation in status had set the Town abuzz for weeks. She was glad Tom had left a week ago to ensure the Manor was in a state of readiness to comfortably welcome the Lovingtons. She was enlisted in the renting of their house in Town, packing all their possessions and the farewells she made on behalf of herself and Tom.

An hour passed in silence, expecting Mary's snuffling snores and Emily's shifting to find an angle that didn't make her lower back ache further. The rain had drizzled itself out of existence and warm sunlight welcomed them to the extensive lands of Carlsdale Manor. The carriage wheels crunched on the gravel path as the winding path opened to an exquisite view of a large house with grey stone and marble. Tom was walking out of the house in a grey overcoat and brown breeches, followed by a surly-looking woman and an ancient skeleton of a man.

"Mary, wake up!" hissed Emily, gently nudging her dead-asleep maid. Mary awoke with a start mid-snore and exclaimed, "Good gracious! We've arrived have we? Would you look at that grand house milady!" staring out the window in wonder.

Thomas, looking slightly dishevelled from the early morning chores, proffered his hand to help them both climb down the carriage steps. Disregarding convention he pulled her into a warm embrace. "Emily, I'm so glad you're here. I hope your ride wasn't too tiresome," he said, a hint of relief in his voice.

With a laugh, she shook her head. "Not at all! I amused myself with staring out the window and," leaning forward she said with a conspiratorial whisper, "listening to Mary's musical snores." Laughing, Thomas shook his head warningly at her. "I'm glad your ride wasn't without some amusement. Allow me introduce you to the house, and of course Mrs. Prudence Farrow our housekeeper, and Mr. Andrew Spelt who have both loyally served our uncle and have been invaluable this past week."

Emily curtsied politely to Mrs Farrow, an older woman with more than a few greys threaded through her chestnut brown hair. Looking at her lined but pleasant features, Emily felt a mix of respect and curiosity for the formidable housekeeper. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Farrow." Mrs Farrow gave a nod of acknowledgement but a swift curtsey, clearly preoccupied with the daily management of the household. As soon as Emily had turned away, she walked back into the house.

"And this," Thomas said, turning to a frail-looking man who stood nearby, "is Andrew Spelt, our butler." Andrew Spelt, though aged and skeletal in stature, exuded an air of dignity. "Miss Emily," he greeted her with a courteous bow. "Welcome to Carlsdale Manor. Please do come to me with any questions you might have."

"Thank you Mr. Spelt. I am grateful for all the help you've given my brother and I look forward to getting to know the house. Thomas, will you show me around the house?"

"Of course! I've spent the better part of last week attempting to figure out the maze in there. But first, I'll take you to your room."

He led her into the mansion, through elegant corridors adorned with paintings of their ancestors, their stern gazes watching over the generations. Carlsdale Manor was an architectural masterpiece, with towering ceilings, intricate chandeliers, and marble floors that echoed with the footsteps of countless Lovingtons who had walked these halls before them. The mansion boasted several bedrooms, each with its unique charm and history. Many of these rooms had fallen into disrepair over the years, their doors locked to preserve the memories within. But a few, the ones that Thomas had managed to refurnish in time for Emily's arrival, retained their former grandeur.

As they strolled through the opulent corridors, Emily couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had brought her here. She had travelled from the bustling streets of Town to the peaceful countryside, a transition she relished. She turned to Thomas and remarked, "You know, the carriage ride from Town was rather long, but it was worth it. The moment we left behind the smog and towering buildings, and the countryside came into view, I felt as though I could breathe again."

Thomas nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. The countryside has a beauty and tranquility all its own. I hope you'll come to love it here."

"I hope we both do, Thomas."

Just then, they arrived at her quarters, a spacious room adorned with bright yellow flowers on cream wallpaper, silk bed coverings, and a large window that framed a picturesque view of a pond with a weeping willow, its branches gently caressing the water's surface.

"Oh, Thomas, it's beautiful!" Emily exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"I thought you'd like it," Thomas said, pleased with her reaction. "I had it refurnished for you in time. Many of the rooms here haven't been maintained, but this one is your sanctuary. I'll have Mrs. Farrow show Mary to her quarters."

As Thomas left her to unpack, Emily couldn't resist the temptation to take in the serene view from her window once more. Her gaze fell upon a distant figure, a man in a brown coat, who stood by the pond, skipping pebbles across the water. He had an air of quiet contemplation about him, and she found herself wondering who he might be.

Lost in thought, Emily extended her hand toward a nearby vase of freshly cut chrysanthemums. As she concentrated on the dark-haired man, a soft, subtle shimmer enveloped the bouquet, causing the petals to sway gently in an otherworldly breeze. Her touch of magic so rarely revealed, manifested as a playful caress of nature's elements.

Just as she was debating whether to ask Thomas who the man was, a loud thud broke the peaceful silence. Startled, Emily rushed out of her room and descended the grand staircase, her heart pounding.

She reached the ground floor to find her brother comically sprawled on his back before the entryway, a purring white cat perched atop his chest.

A sheepish-looking, angelic blonde man stood in the doorway, chuckling softly at the scene he had caused. "I do apologize," he said, extending a hand to help Thomas up. "I didn't mean to startle you. Mother sent me over to see if the cat could be recovered."

Thomas accepted Henry's hand with a scowl, but Emily couldn't help but join in the laughter. Seeing the sullen look on her brother's face, Emily couldn't help the surge of curiosity about the stranger who was looking rather appreciatively at Thomas.