“It was probably a good idea for you to hide,” Matt said. He found a scrub bush growing out of the side of the promontory, and he tied the three horses off, then he tied Spirit to the back of the buckboard.
“How much farther is it?” he asked climbing back into the buckboard and picking up the reins.”
“Not far,” Gilmore said. “We should be there in time for dinner.”
About half an hour later, Matt and Gilmore approached an arched gate. The pillars were made of stone and the overhead arch that connected the pillars was made of steel. The words COVENTRY MANOR in ironwork, were worked into the arch. On the left stone pillar was a coat of arms. The escutcheon was in quarters, and in the first and fourth quarters was a golden lion rampant on a red background. In the second and third quarters was the cross of St. George.
As they passed through the gate, they drove up a long, crushed white gravel drive which led to a three-story edifice of stone, brick, and mortar. The house spread out for at least one hundred fifty feet. The house had a castellated top, with towers at each of the four corners, plus an additional tower over the main entrance to the house. Pennants flew from the top of each of the corner towers; an American flag flew from the top of the central tower.
It had been many years since Matt last saw Katherine—he never knew her last name as nobody was permitted to use last names in the orphanage—but he recognized her immediately.
It was her eyes, big, blue, and flecked with gold, that he recognized first. They hadn’t changed. Appraising her as they drove up, Matt decided that she had grown up well. She was a very pretty woman.
Kitty Wellington was standing in the curved driveway, an entrance that seemed much more suited for an elegant and liveried carriage than an ordinary buckboard, pulled by a team of rented horses.
“Welcome to Coventry,” Kitty said as Matt pulled back on the reins to stop the team.
“Mrs. Wellington,” he said.
“Oh, please, Matt,” Kitty said. “Can’t we refer to each other as we remember?”
“All right,” Matt said with a big smile. “Only I remember you as Katherine, not Kitty.”
“Then, by all means, call me Katherine. I started calling myself Kitty as a way of totally separating myself from the orphanage. When I left I never wanted to think of it again. Although as I think back on it, I remember some people with great fondness—Eddie, Tamara, and of course, you. Eddie and Tamara are both dead now,” she said with a wilting tone. Then she smiled, and brightened. “But you and I are still alive. We have done well, Matt. And when you get right down to it, I think doing well is the best way possible to put that period of our lives in its proper perspective.”
“I agree,” Matt said. He looked around at the house and grounds. “I must say though, Katherine, that when it comes to doing well, you seem to have excelled far above my meager accomplishments.”
Kitty laughed. “Please, come in. I’ve had the cook prepare something special, just in your honor.”
Matt and Gilmore followed Kitty up the huge, curved stone steps, across the wide flagstone porch, through the massive carved and leaded glass double front doors, and into the house. The front doors opened onto a long, wide hallway. There were suits of armor standing on both sides of the hallway, while flags and tapestries hung from above.
On one wall, lit by flanking lanterns, was a huge painting of a young man in the uniform of a British colonel.
“Tommy was really proud of this painting,” Kitty said.
“Tommy?”
Kitty chuckled. “He asked that I call him that. He considered it an endearment. And he was a dear man, so I did so, willingly.”
“How long were you married?”
“Just over a year,” Kitty said. “He was considerably older than I, but it didn’t seem to matter.”
From the hallway they passed through the library. There was an open door at the rear of the library and, looking through that door, Matt saw what appeared to be an office. Even as he glanced toward it, Kitty confirmed what it was.
“My office,” she said.
Next door was a formal parlor with bright blue covering, from which French doors opened onto another patio that overlooked the lawn. From the formal parlor, Kitty led Matt and Gilmore into the dining room. The dining room had polished oak wainscoting, while the top half of the wall was covered in gold linen. The table was very long, and illuminated by three crystal chandeliers that hung above it in equidistant spacing. Although it looked as if it could easily seat forty diners, there were, at the moment, only three place settings of exquisite china, rimmed with a band of dark blue and edged with gold. In the middle of each plate was a crest, exactly like the crest that was on the stone pillar of the entrance gate. The dining plates had been placed on gold chargers. Sparkling crystal and shining silver completed the setting.
Matt started to sit at one of the side chairs, but Kitty demurred. “No,” she said, pointing to the chair on the end. “You sit here, at the head of the table.”
“I wouldn’t feel good about that. This is your house,” Matt said.
“A woman should never occupy the head of the table, and I never do, even when I eat alone,” she said. “Please, do me the honor.”
“Very well,” Matt agreed, holding the side chair out for Kitty, before taking his seat at the head of the table.
Kitty picked up a small bell and rang it.
“Yes, ma’am?” a young woman said, stepping through a door.
“You may serve,” Kitty said.
