Page 30 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘Don’t worry. You’ll get fit soon enough.’

We continued up and came to a landing, from which another long passageway stretched into the distance, lit like the one downstairs. The stairs continued upwards, but a rope blocked the way.

‘The servants’ rooms are upstairs,’ Lydia said. ‘They’re all pokey and dark. In the summer, they’re blisteringly hot, and in the winter, they’re cold as ice. We close them to the public. Most visitors wouldn’t be interested, anyway. You can check them out sometime if you want to.’

‘Sure. I’d love to.’ I was drinking in this history like it was sweet white hot chocolate on a winter’s day.

Lydia moved along the passage. Doors opened off on both sides. ‘These are mostly bedrooms, dressing rooms and bathrooms. There’s also an incredible library here with thousands of books, most of them between one hundred and three hundred years old, some even older. As you might expect, we keep a close eye on that room in case anyone tries to take a book. It’s not a lending library.’

‘Which room is it?’ I asked. I couldn’t see from my position in the passageway, but with my next step, it came into view, and I gasped.

I stepped inside. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases crammed with volumes of all kinds lined the walls, except for a wide window. A sunshade blind was pulled down to prevent too much light entering and damaging the old books. A solid silver candlestick sat on one large shelf, acting as a bookend. Two old lounge chairs sat in the centre of the room, askance to each other. A massive wooden desk with a blotter and an inkwell on it sat at one side of the room, leaving enough space to pass between it and the bookcases behind.

‘This is amazing!’ I spun, trying to take in everything at once, but it was too much for my overwhelmed mind to process.

Lydia poked her head in the door. ‘It’s something special. We have a guest researcher who comes in most days. He’s investigating seventeenth century witchcraft. Apparently, he’s writing a master’s thesis.’

The breath caught in my throat, and I froze. ‘On witchcraft?’

Lydia grinned. ‘We have all sorts of books here. It’s a veritable treasure trove. Come on. I’ll show you the earl’s and countess’s bedrooms. We’ll have to be quick. The house opens shortly.’

I could have stayed in the library all day, but I followed Lydia further down the passage. ‘They had a bedroom each? Or have the rooms been made up that way?’

‘I’m talking about the original owners, the earl and countess of Chirtlewood. No one knows now what area Chirtlewood covered, but we believe it’s now part of some other noble’s estate. Anyway, their real names were Thomas and Charlotte Deaville, and yes, they had separate bedrooms. That was common for nobility in those days.’ Lydia stopped before a door and leaned towards me. ‘Sometimes, I wish I had a bedroom to myself. My husband snores loud enough to rattle the windows.’

Lydia rapped on the door before entering. I followed her into the room, puzzled. Was it occupied? If so, why hadn’t Lydia waited for a response? But no one was there. So why had she knocked?

A massive four-poster canopied bed dominated the room. Several pillows lay at the head end. Despite its sumptuous linen and the wooden bedposts, it looked uncomfortable. The distinct sag in the middle would give me terrible back spasms if I slept in it.

‘This is the countess’s bedroom,’ Lydia said. ‘What do you think of it?’

‘Wow. It’s grand.’ An old wooden dresser that might also be of seventeenth century French origin sat on one side of the room. On the other stood a table with a jug and a large bowl for water. I guessed it passed for en suite back in the countess’s day.

A tall mirror stood on a stand near the dresser. I glanced away, remembering how I’d smashed Aunt Ruth’s mirror yesterday.

‘I wouldn’t look into the mirror too closely if I were you,’ Lydia murmured.

I turned and regarded her with a curious glance, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was hovering near the doorway. I took the hint and went over.

‘Why? Is the house haunted?’ I asked, trying to make a joke of it, but something about the room—and what the person from the recruitment office had said—spooked me.

Lydia glanced at me as we strode towards the stairs. ‘This is England, and the house is four hundred years old. There’s bound to be stories of ghosts in any property this age. That doesn’t mean they exist.’

‘Um... I was told—’

Lydia laughed. ‘I’m kidding you. Of course it’s haunted. We have several ghosts here. Usually, we only hear them walking about.’ She paused at the top of the stairs and regarded me. ‘I hope that won’t be a problem.’

I shook my head. ‘I’ll be fine.’

She grinned. ‘Glad to hear it. Let’s go downstairs. I’ve got a roster for duties—yes, one for chores as well as one for pastries. I love my lists and charts. We can move around the house to watch tourists as we see fit. But they will ask you a lot of questions, so you should stick with us for a few days and learn as much as you can. You can take a guidebook as well and read it in quiet moments. The recruitment centre said you used to be a teacher, so I’m sure you’ve got an excellent memory. You’ll learn everything in next to no time.’

‘Thank you. I can’t wait to learn more from you and Penny and Melissa. I’m sure there’s an incredible amount to know about Chirtlewood and its history.’

Lydia smiled.

Excitement pulsed through me. I wanted to inhale the house’s secrets.

When the ghostly inhabitants made an appearance, I’d be ready. I wouldn’t let them drive me away.

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