IT STOOD ALONE AT THE END OF A LONG
stone-lined driveway, a sprawling old mansion in a remote part of the countryside. The Internet research she performed while on flight to England showed a guest house to the West surrounded by trees, and wrought-iron fencing all around. Whoever ran the place could never quite keep up with it; the castle grounds needed maintenance. However, the flower gardens were well kept.
Long shoots of grass grew up between the slats of the benches scattered here and there along the crooked paths. On a winding narrow road called Woodlands Trace was a handmade marker welcoming visitors to the Shaldorn property. The long curvy driveway was lined with a short stack of ancient stones cracked and weathered from time. At the end of the drive, a large open area revealed stairs surrounded by wrought-iron railings. Shaldorn Manor; standing tall and proud, ancient in its history but foreboding in appearance. Late on a Sunday Jennifer arrived onto the Manor property. The frigid mist fell from the gloomy skies onto the already sodden ground, but it went unnoticed by her preoccupied eyes as she gazed upon the Manor.
In my dreams alone have I imagined such a place.
Dressed in her casual travel clothes. Her usual long straight, brunette hair brushed back into a ponytail. A servant standing at the steps next to the car greeted her. “Hello, my name is Jennifer Ferimore. I am the one that called yesterday,” said Jennifer, like she didn’t believe it herself.
“Hello, Ms. Ferimore, I’m Cindy. Welcome to Shaldorn Manor. The driver called along the way and told us you were coming.” She spoke with a British accent and offered a smile as she reached out to shake Jennifer’s hand. Jennifer noticed Cindy’s olive tone skin and soft blue eyes. She seemed nice. One of the staff helped carry her luggage as Cindy guided her up the stairs into the main entrance. The massive oak doors opened up revealing a large wide staircase at the entrance leading to a foyer where doors to the bedrooms could be seen. Jennifer took notice of the exquisite detail in the woodwork and ceilings.
The staff showed her to her bedroom situated toward the end of a long hallway. Opening the double oak doors to the bedroom showed impressive Victorian period furniture. Not being a wood or antique expert she asked Cindy about the room.
“Would you like a tour of the place once you’re settled?” said Cindy adjusting the bedding.
“Yes I would love a tour, thank you, but after I rest from the jet lag,” said Jennifer, putting down her handbag. Cindy had just fluffed the pillows.
“Oh my God, what kind of bed is that?” said Jennifer, admiring the woodwork of the bed. Cindy described it as a hand Carved French walnut Cherub Gryphon Canopy Bed. Cindy also pointed out that across from the bed was a solid walnut Victorian period cheval mirror with brass knobs.
“I’ve never seen anything like this except in movies. Good thing I did my homework on the Manor website. But seeing this place in person truly does it justice.” Her mouth fell open.
“Yes, most people would agree with you,” said Cindy bringing in some fresh towels from the hall while the staff dropped off Jennifer’s luggage to her room.
Her smartphone lit up and vibrated, indicating a text message. “Uh, another text message, I hate technology.” Her fingers tapping yet another reply. Jennifer was not the type to waste her time doomscrolling through social media or watching rubbish on T.V.
“Shaldorn Manor is used as a Bed and Breakfast, on occasion weddings, and sits on some of the most prized lands in Cornwall. It has sixteen bedrooms, two of which are in the outside turrets, a garden, stables, and a guest house.” Jennifer had finished her text message. “So where are you from, Cindy?” she said, putting her phone away.
“I’m originally from Portsmouth,” said Cindy, laying some fresh towels on the bathroom sink. “My family is from there. I would have never thought I would end up in such a place as Shaldorn Manor.” She moved to the door. “I’ll be downstairs for a while. If it gets chilly at night sometimes. Well, it is autumn in Cornwall after all. There are blankets over there. Pointing at them as she padded for the door. I’d be happy to show you more if you feel up to it. If you need anything, let me know.” Cindy smiled.
“Thank you, Cindy,” said Jennifer, smiling back.
Jennifer unpacked her clothes then reached over to the dresser to set her jewelry box down. She felt a cold chill like she had stepped outside without a jacket. Turning to look at the window she noticed it wasn’t open. Feeling completely exhausted she shut her room door. Quick to call it a day and go to bed. It had been a rough night, full of long stretches of wakefulness punctuated by snatches of restless sleep.
Beams of light shone through the windows as the morning sun filled the room with its warmth. The sounds of conversation down the hall woke Jennifer from a deep sleep which had lasted twelve hours. Not realizing the time of day she got up groggy, and after a shower, and breakfast decided she would finish the fresh coffee Cindy had prepared for her before taking her tour of the Manor.
“Well good morning, Jennifer. You slept for a long time. You must have been tired from traveling,” said Cindy handing Jennifer a freshly made latte indicating to Jennifer she always uses the finest beans, freshly brewed and served with half-and-half.
“Good morning, Cindy. That isn’t like me. I hope you don’t think of me as unsociable. Is Mr. Penmore around?” Jennifer tells Cindy he is the man who signed the papers she read.
“No, he had to go to the office for a while but he will be back later, and no, I don’t think of you as unsociable.” Heading back toward the kitchen.
“Coffee, java, espresso…yes!” said Jennifer, bringing the cup to her mouth. Cindy smiled.
The vibrant aroma seemed to have extricated itself from the thick, creamy coating over the surface, penetrating deep into her nose, watering her mouth. Jennifer craved the subtle undertone of caramel and her cup showed a festive color. She wrapped her fingers around it, enjoying the heat spreading through her hands. But without conscious thought, it is in her hand, and the first milky sip crept over her taste-buds and down her throat. After only a few minutes she is bathing in the kick of the caffeine.
“I will be busy today with my duties but if you need me I’ll be cleaning the upstairs rooms,” said Cindy carrying cleaning supplies. With Cindy busy with her duties upstairs and John away at his office, Jennifer decided to explore on her own.
After finishing the coffee she walked through the hallway. At the end of the hall from the main entrance, she saw an ancient staircase, leading down into who knows where, but she didn’t want to go there just yet. Walking back the other way Jennifer passed the large kitchen. She continued down a long corridor, enjoying the rich tapestry of emerald green and gold hung on the walls, suits of armor standing guard, coat of arms, and swords crossed on the wall. Wanting to see more she ventured outside to the castle remains.
It stood apart from its surroundings, like an old mansion above a small town, on a bit of a hill scattered with trees. It had several spires and floors with lots of windows, some dirty from neglect. A wrought iron fence met the grass and kept the crowded little world of Carbis at bay. She entered through the door of one of the remaining towers where dank steps twisted downward into a space too dark to see anything without light. She decided she would reserve this place for later. Who knows—maybe there is a dungeon, and narrow passageways leading to even more areas of the castle or Manor I have yet to discover.
Returning to the Manor house she continued to the library where she saw another large fireplace, but with much more lavish carvings and a huge painting above it. Who is in the painting, I wonder? The wall next to the fireplace has a set of folding doors leading through to the sitting room. Across the hall is the dining room. My God this place is incredible.
Exiting the manor house she continued her exploration into the open grounds, past the garden to the stables where she saw beautiful riding horses. Complete with all the equipment one would expect to see in a well-kept stable. Just then a man walking a horse into the stable saw Jennifer and introduced himself.
“Oh hello, my name is Nigel.”
“Hello, Nigel. I’m Jennifer Ferimore.”
“Ah, you must be the niece of Tom Ferimore.”
“Yes.”
Nigel resembled a stork with long bony legs and a neck that could fit on a flamingo.
“Well welcome to Shaldorn Manor. I’m the groundskeeper here, and help take care of the horses as well. You know your uncle talked a lot about you,” said Nigel brushing the horse.
“Nigel, a lot of time is spent keeping the stables nice. Why is the garden overgrown with weeds?” Her eyes scanned around but focused on Nigel.
“Thank you, Jennifer, for your concern. Master Ferimore took personal responsibility for the grounds, a fine man he was. Since his passing, we have all tried to compensate …we had applicants coming to fill the position until the state of the finances was revealed to us.
“Jennifer, I’m sorry about your uncle. I didn’t know him very well but he seemed like a kind man. If you need anything during your stay here let me know,” said Nigel guiding the horse into his stall.
“It’s kind of you to say, Nigel, thank you. But I’m not sure yet how long I will be here.” Her hand blocked a yawn.
“Oh, I see. Well, however long you’re here, should you wish to go for a ride let me know.” He put some hay into the stall.
“I’m a pretty good rider myself. These horses are well taken care of. I look forward to riding them.” Stating in a hopeful tone. Since she grew up on a horse farm, those animals were a natural part of growing up. Jennifer learned basic horsemanship from brushing, bathing, grooming and of course, riding. They had indoor and outdoor riding facilities on their property.
“Yes, I can fix you up with a horse to fit your height. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“That would be lovely, Nigel, but I think for now I’ll just keep adjusting to the new time zone and all the incredible surroundings.”
“Yes, it is beautiful here in the spring and autumn.” Patting the horse’s neck, Nigel turned to Jennifer.
“Enjoy your stay here, Jennifer. It was very nice to meet you.” Moving toward the stable door.
“You as well, Nigel.”
Eric Grant Owens 