‘Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. Take the day to acquaint yourself with your new surroundings and meet the rest of us. Just stay away from Mr King’s suite at the end of the north wing. He tolerates no interruptions when he is working.’
Serena nodded.
‘Governor Gipps commissioned him to design a grand theatre for the city. The governor wants it to be a lasting and outstanding landmark for Sydney.’
Impressive. Serena raised her eyebrows. Mr King’s work sounded important. No wonder he had been so moody and short with her earlier if he’d been dragged away from his enterprise. ‘I’ll be sure not to disturb him then.’
Not that she had any wish to meet that cantankerous man so soon again, anyway. To wander the grounds and explore the house would overwhelm her enough without another confusing encounter with Mr King.
4
After spending some time exploring the suite she’d been settled in, Serena headed for the front door. It was dark when she’d arrived last night and she wondered what Aleron House looked like from the outside. Was it as grand as the interior suggested? Serena paused outside her rooms, looking in both directions. It was hard to get one’s bearings in a home of this size.
Finally, she found familiar furnishings in the hallways and located the entrance, then followed the pathway a hundred or so yards to the front gate. The lonely crunch of stone beneath her feet stood out in contrast against the silent grounds. The fresh country air might have been invigorating if she wasn’t so vexed by the owner of this place. She turned to gaze at her new prison.
Aleron House rose in a formidable stance before her, as fearsome as its master. Although, it more resembled a castle than a house. It presented a gothic impression with turrets, parapets, arched windows and gables. If it hadn’t been her gaol she might have considered it an enchanting piece of architecture, something from her childhood dreams. And if the sky had been less threatening with its dark clouds, the sandstone walls might even be inviting. No doubt Mr King had designed and built it himself.
Serena leaned up against the closed gates. This would be her dwelling for the foreseeable future and she worried that her time here would be taxing. Although, if she were honest with herself, she feared more for her family than herself. Her sisters seemed barely capable of dressing themselves, let alone looking after the house and cooking. And with Papa heading to sea again, she pictured them lost and alone in their small cottage. If only she could go back and check on them.
She tried to drive thoughts of home from her mind, berating herself. How many times had she wished for a break from the constant routine of her life? How often had she pined for the days when she had almost married and been mistress of a grand house? If Mama hadn’t died ...
Every time she thought of escaping her life, guilt nagged at her. How could she dream of such things when her family needed her? Since Mama died, and they lost their wealth, they had leaned on Serena for support. Papa needed her to be the mother of the house, and her sisters needed someone in whom to confide. But now they would have to get along without her. Julianne must be the one to manage the household. Serena drew a deep breath. Julianne would cope. She had to cope.
With a sigh, Serena continued her tour of Aleron House. The grounds were magnificent, designed with pretty flower beds, dotted here and there with larger trees. It would be a rainbow of colour come spring. In the middle of these gardens stood an imposing fig tree, which drew the eye from every angle—a magnificent centrepiece. Where the formal gardens ended, pastureland spread into the distance, bordered by a forest of eucalypts.
The vista from her tiny house in the city was nothing in comparison. Of course, a short walk from home, Serena could gaze out over the ocean and watch the ships glide into Port Jackson. But in every other direction stood buildings of stone and wood, separated only by roads. The beauty of Aleron’s vista made her soul ache. Hadn’t she always dreamed of living on such an estate again? And here she was, but it did not belong to her or her family. Did God mean to tease her?
Even the air was different. Gone was the tinge of the sewers on the breeze, or the fishy aroma from the port. Here, only fresh, flower-laden air met her senses. And the earthy scent of horses.
The stables stood off to her right. Mr King no doubt had several fine animals in his possession. She hastened her steps in that direction, eager to see them, and almost collided with Mr King standing beneath the fig tree.
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Do you always run about like a hoyden?’ A deep frown marked his brow.
‘Hoyden?’ She obviously repulsed him. Indignation quickly replaced any civility Serena might have used.
‘First I find you prostate on my drawing room floor and now you are careening about my garden in a careless fashion. What other description is there but hoyden?’
Serena glared at him. This was the outside of enough.
‘Shall we discuss your own behaviour? You left me alone in that drawing room all night. No offer of refreshments, no bed, no warmth. What manner of host are you?’
Mr King averted his eyes, but not before Serena caught a flash of emotion in them. Was that regret? But then he stared at her again, his eyes narrowed.
‘I am not your host. I am the one to whom you owe a debt. It would serve you well to remember that.’ With those harsh words, he swivelled on his heel
