tes they came to another gate, this one short and attached to low walls that disappeared on both sides through the trees. A small house stood by the little gate. It was two-story, all brick, with tall, stone-faced windows.
“Thinking of putting it on the market?” Jack asked Kate.
“I wouldn’t mind knowing the number of beds and baths.”
“It’s England. Twelve bedrooms, one bath.”
“And you said you didn’t watch Downton Abbey.”
Smiling, he looked out the car window.
The driver slowed down as they went around a corner and they saw the main house. It was long, spreading out over a hundred feet. It had Gothic overtones, with steeply pitched roofs and parts that jutted out to form giant bay windows that were two stories tall.
“Is that...?” Kate asked, pointing to the front.
“It’s a thirteenth-century chapel,” the driver said. “Restored in 1928 by the sixth Lord Renlow.”
“Then again by Bella,” Sara added, pride in her voice.
Kate and Jack looked at each other. They knew who’d paid for it: Sara and the millions of books she’d sold.
The driver took his time going around the perimeter of the house, letting them see all of it. “The house is younger than the chapel,” he said. “But parts of it are sixteenth century. The newest section was built in the 1700s. One family built it and their descendants still live here.”
As a lover of houses, especially old ones, Kate could feel her heart doing little jumps.
Jack leaned toward her and whispered, “You ever look at me like that and I’ll die happy.”
“Looks like you’ll have a long, sad life,” she shot back at him.
When the car stopped, Sara nearly leaped out, said, “Bella,” then took off running around the side of the house.
“Sorry about this,” the driver said as he opened Kate’s door, “but I have to drop you off at the back. Front’s being worked on. The kitchen is through that door. I’ll take your cases up.”
Jack was standing next to Kate. Through the trees they could see other buildings. One was long and low. Stables, maybe? Corners of what appeared to be small houses were barely visible.
“How many people live here?” she asked the driver.
“Not many. Mrs. Guilford has a flat in the main house. Mrs. Aiken, the cook, and the head gardener have places. And there’s Puck.” He gave a little smile, sort of a smirk. “She has a house by the cemetery.”
“Who is she?” Kate asked.
“Mrs. Aiken’s daughter. She’s...”
“She’s what?” Kate asked.
“Different.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“She is...fortyish, I guess. We have a saying around here that you can look at her but not see her. She’s sort of invisible.” He saw that neither Jack nor Kate liked what he was saying. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to gossip. Anyway, the cottages are mostly for guests. They like their privacy.”
“I would too.” Kate turned full circle. “I’d like to stay in a cottage and walk over every inch of this place. And pet every animal.”
“Moooo,” Jack said.
That got a smile out of her. “I don’t see any other people.”
“That’s because we close for the month of March. Old place like this needs constant repair. Guests don’t like the sound of hammers. I’m afraid they’re going to wake you up.”