Serena leaned into the dark hallway. Sure enough, a figure silhouetted by the candlelight walked back toward the central part of the house. The long shadows were frightening enough without imagining them to be anything else. Serena swallowed hard, pushing her fears aside. ‘Excuse me!’
5
The figure halted in its steps, then slowly turned. The small flame sent distorted shadows over the person’s face.
‘Yes.’
The last of Serena’s fear fled with the anchoring sound of a human voice. Pulling the front of her gown closed, she approached the person. ‘I’m sorry. I heard you walking out here and, well, I was having trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d come and see who it was.’ It was close enough to the truth to suffice.
He half turned away as she neared as though embarrassed to be discovered up so late. At once Serena recognised the handsome face of Mr King and her heart, which had finally settled, leapt to attention again. What kind of set-down would it be this time? She steeled herself for more of his rudeness.
‘Not used to your new room, I suspect.’
‘Well, no,’ Serena admitted, surprised. He almost sounded civil. But it might not last if she sounded unappreciative. She needed to turn his opinion of her, even if he didn’t deserve her consideration. ‘Not that it is uncomfortable. On the contrary, I am grateful, for your unexpected generosity.’
Mr King waved a hand in dismissal and again half turned from her.
‘And I wasn’t trying to stay up till everyone else was asleep so I could rob you.’ Serena ended her try at humour with a forced giggle. ‘Neither was I lying there planning my escape, although I miss my family already.’ If he had been indeed baiting her earlier on, perhaps he might rise to the half-hearted joke.
Instead, he turned back to her and appeared to study her. ‘Personally, I find the quiet of night the best time for ideas to flow.’
‘Oh. So, you’re not walking to help you sleep?’ What an odd thing for a person to do. Work, in the middle of the night.
‘No.’
‘You’re designing?’
‘Walking helps me think.’
Serena dipped her head in understanding. ‘Right. I will let you resume your thoughts then. I’m so sorry to have interrupted you.’ The genius at work. A little embarrassed, she backed away, with a slight nod of the head in deference to her host. Master. Good grief, she was still in her nightdress. ‘Good night, Mr King.’
His eyebrows rose, as though he meant to say something, but then coughed lightly and turned his head aside. ‘Good night, Miss Bellingham.’
She watched him for a moment, the candlelight dimming as he walked away, and then with a brief shrug, Serena ducked back into her room and closed the door.
Curious.
Mr King strolling the house in the dead of night was odd behaviour, and yet his countenance and conversation were almost normal for a change. Perhaps it was a sign that he was not the complete ogre she’d believed him to be.
‘We shall see, Mr King,’ she whispered into the darkness as she climbed back into bed and finally, more relaxed than she’d been all day, she fell asleep.
The morning light brought with it a sense of mixed curiosity and nervousness. She’d survived her first day at Aleron, but this would be her first day of work. As yet, she remained uncertain of her host’s expectations where that was concerned, though at least he showed signs of not being the overbearing master she’d begun to believe. If last night’s encounter was anything to go by, he could be amenable if he wanted to.
On her way down to the dining room, she wondered what his mood might be like today if she happened upon him. Hopefully his anger towards her and her father would not remain the entire time she stayed here. Hopefully he would learn to relent.
Since most of the staff were members of Mr King’s family, they all ate in the dining room. All that is, except for Mr King, oddly enough. Mrs Jones refused to allow Serena to eat in the staff kitchen by herself, so she joined them. The formal dining room was yet another magnificent example of design, with highly polished furniture and not an item out of place. The table could seat a large dinner party as two dozen chairs surrounded it—she had counted them twice to be sure.
Serena stretched her mouth in a yawn as she selected a piece of toast for her plate, the smell of warm bread stirring her appetite.
‘Did you not sleep well, Miss Bellingham?’ Mrs Jones caught her ill-manners.
Serena covered her mouth. ‘Oh, no. I mean, yes. But it was a while before I went to sleep.’ An image of Mr King wandering the hallways flooded her mind and she tried to hide her smile.
‘The strangeness of your new surroundings no doubt caused that.’
‘I suppose so.’ Serena bit her lip to keep the grin from her face, but she was certain the merriment in her eyes gave her away.
‘What has you smiling this morning?’ Mrs Jones crumpled her face in curiosity.
‘I, um, encountered a phantom in the middle of the night.’ A living phantom. Serena giggled.
Mrs Jones eyed her with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. ‘A phantom?’
Unsure whether they knew of Mr King’s late-night rambles, Serena sobered. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Jones. You will soon learn I have a very active imagination. After lying awake for a long time, worrying over my father and sisters, I heard noises which frightened me. But I am not used to the house as you say.’ She turned her focus to her toast, feigning concentration on spreading butter.
‘As I thought. It must be hard to be away from your family.’ Mrs Jones seemed to accept her story. ‘Is it the first time you have been separated from them?’
Serena nodded, spooning jam from the pot. ‘I don’t
