England truly was a fascinating place, though Victoria had to admit that she was happy to get out of London and into the green fields, dotted here and there with copses of trees, and interspaced with exquisite country houses. It was no lie to say that London was a city among THE cities of the world, with its commercial streets catering to any need, and also inspiring in people the desire for things that they never knew they had wanted before. Fine Dutch porcelain, beautiful coloured silks from the east and glittering jewellery wrought in gold and Indian gems, these were certainly things that one might commonly want to get their hands on. But then there were any number of new age goods, the finest in industrial productions, products from the far flung outposts of Britain and all sorts of oddities like colored birds and glimmering oriental goldfish in bulbous glass bowls. There had been commercial cities before, but nothing like London, where one could get anything you could think of, and much that you couldn't.
Then there were the buildings, some of staggering size, the imperial houses of empire. She'd seen townhouses before, certainly, her family had one after all; and it wasn't like America didn't have large buildings of cut stone and colossal pillars. It was just that here in England you could feel the history all around, it practically spilled out of the joins in the stone. Still, the press of people had been uncomfortable and the fresh air of the countryside was an invigorating change. She was after all a child of nature, and she leant from the carriage that whipped her through the rolling grass fields, letting the wind blow her curling brown hair all about.
They were going to stay in a castle, and that was a truly thrilling prospect for Victoria who had never seen one before. Across from her sat General Williby Jones, an aging moustachioed General in his fine red coat who had kept up a lively conversation. She supposed that the man was starved of it, for his plump wife seemed to be ever on the verge of sleep, having woken herself on more than one occasion with a loud snort that had echoed about the carriage interior.
Beside her was Jane Doyle, a English girl a few years her junior. They were both on a socialite tour of the country, which would return to London when the 'season' began, the highlight of which would be meeting the old queen with whom she shared a name (Though she preferred to think of herself as just Tori). Victoria had needled her way into being allowed to visit the country, it was after all the ancient motherland, and still the greatest empire in the world. She had travelled with a lady's maid, the old woman was to watch over her and see that she got into no trouble. It was the way things were done, though her family had ensured that they provided the stiffest and most eagle eyed of the family's servants; Victoria did have a penchant for mischief.
Her maid was currently in a bed back in London, with an ailment that had laid her low. And the red headed girl beside her had taken the old lady's place as a companion, and ostensibly so that each of them could watch the other.
She was a terrible choice, for Jane had hardly looked at her from where she sat open-mouthed and breathless; and if Tori was known to occasionally dabble in trouble, Jane was hardly likely to keep her in check. If the girl wasn't constantly watched then she was liable to walk off with whatever man was loitering nearby, and it was a wonder that her parents had let her out at all. If she'd been Tori's daughter, the girl would've been married immediately, lest she create a scandal. A more wanton woman could not be found, and even now she could feel the girl's legs compulsively opening and closing beneath her long skirts, as her small chest rose and fell.
Jane was currently engaging the old general in conversation and not a little fluttering of her eyelashes; which had sent his white moustaches quivering. Victoria's eyes widened and rolled as she turned back to the window, the old man must've been seventy if he was a day. She had no doubt that should the carriage have broken down for an hour, young Jane Doyle would've pulled the general into the bushes to help 'tie her shoe', and she didn't think it was a battle that the old officer would walk away from.
At that moment the line of trees that had run alongside the road broke away, revealing a large open estate, in which on the shore of a lake, sat a gleaming castle. It wasn't quite what she had imagined, though she'd only ever seen one in a book, and likened it to a military fort, though fancier. It's large encircling wall and the four-sided keep that rose within were smooth and painted a brilliant white. It sat starkly against the shimmering lake and the green stand of trees which met the walls on one side.
'Are castles supposed to be white?' She turned to the general, who's similarly snowy moustache sat against a face which was beginning to turn red under Jane's attention.
'Uh..uh.., oh, well, not necessarily.' He said, his eyes turning to hers. 'Castles were typically plastered and painted, not like the ruins we have today. This one has been restored by our host, Lord Black. He's gone to some length and expense I hear.'
Tori had met him in London and had the pleasure of being whisked round the dance floor by the tall man in his richly adorned officer's uniform, his huge hands had nearly circled her waist when he'd taken her through the lifts, and had lingered past when it was appropriate, and longer still. She welcomed the cool air from the window on her face, which warmed as she remembered his auburn beard tickling her neck in the darkened courtyard, and how she'd pulled away as another couple had stepped out for air.
'Has his family always lived here?' She queried, wondering if earlier Lord Black's had stood upon those ramparts in its defence, red beards whisked by the wind.
'Uh, no.' The old man chuckled. 'He acquired it a few years ago with the intention of restoring it and claiming it as his family home, he's somewhat. . .eccentric.'
'And randier than a goat.' Jane whispered, leaning towards her and giggling in her ear. Victoria couldn't help but laugh at the comical statement, though she agreed it could very well be true.
'Seriously though.' The girl said, leaning closer still. 'There's all sorts of wicked stories about him.'
Tori leant back against the cushions as the carriage turned into the gravelled drive and she thanked fate for her maid's poor disposition. Sure, her visit had always been so that she could see this country, it's monuments and certainly a castle or two. But she had a sense that there was more fun to be had, and Lord Black might make an interesting partner. She was happy that by sitting back, her face was shadowed, for her cheeks grew warmer still as she imagined whispered words over dinner, and how his eyes might linger at her chest as she leant towards him. Would he be so bold as to touch her leg beneath the table? She was certain of it, for he was more than bold, and she could not stop her own hand from squeezing her thigh through the fabric of her dress as she imagined his own, folding her skirts back to get beneath them. Would she let him go further? She wondered that herself, and wondered at how intrepid a hunter he might be. Whatever his prowess, she vowed that she would not be easy prey, and he would be hard pressed to pin her down over the next few days.
When the carriage reached the base of the outer walls, she saw that a moat had been dug from, and was fed by the adjoining lake. She practically screamed at the driver to stop, and proceeded to get out and inspect it, as well as the heavy wooden drawbridge. You had to admit, she thought, that a moat and drawbridge was pretty impressive. She looked up at the ramparts along the wall and the towering keep with its tiled conical roof. She couldn't help but imagine herself as a princess, which was a pretty fancy; would her room be in a high tower with a gilded four-poster bed? The thought excited the childlike and playful part of her.
This excitement only grew as she returned to the carriage and was driven over the solid oak planks of the bridge and into a courtyard garden. The inner keep of a castle was obviously originally a defensive building, though she could see that it had been modernised, with windows full of shining panels of glass, no doubt added to bring light into what would otherwise be a dull interior. That interior was revealed, when the heavy wooden doors were pulled open and they were greeted by the house-staff.
Inside the floors had been relaid with gleaming wooden boards, you could smell the wax rubbed into them, mingling with fresh flowers in polished painted vases. A lightly spiced fragrance was also in the air and she was offered a bowl of lemon water from which she could draw a cloth to wipe her face and neck.
They were introduced to relevant staff and a young maid curtseyed and asked Tori to follow her, she did so, turning her head here and there to look into rooms that opened up before her. The centre of the castle had a circular rotunda that held a magnificent glass ceiling far ahead, allowing light to plunge deep inside, and a great cut stone staircase wound up towards it.
The corridors of the upper floors were darker, in that they circled the inner rotunda and were surrounded on the outsides by the guest rooms and family apartments. The windowed ceiling in the circular central tower did cast a goodly amount of light into the heart of the building, but as the corridors fed into the upper rooms they grew dark and Tori wondered what secrets were hidden in the shadowy recesses. As she was led to her room she was distracted at almost every step of the long passageways, and she felt the maid's footsteps linger for her, leaving her free to run her fingers along the polished wood of a cabinet, the heavy thread of a newly woven tapestry here, and the smooth face of a marble bust there. It was some time before they drew to a set of paneled doors, though in truth they had only come a short way. The maid threw open the doors so that a brilliant light spilled into the corridor. She bobbed her head at Tori and said that she had but to ring, should she require anything.
Tori entered the room and closed the doors, it was a beautiful space, lit on the far side by another set of larger glass doors that opened onto a balcony, flanked either side by windows. Opposite this opening was a four-poster bed of simple dark wood, it did not have curtains, and instead had an open canopy which meant the fresh white and gold threaded sheets shone in the light. This bright centrepiece offset the darkly polished floor and the rich emerald coloured marble panels that covered the lower half of the walls, above which they were painted cream.
