Marchwood Hall

Chapter 4

"You know, Rosen, I'm not sure any of these are particularly suitable. I fear I over-estimated the scale of this village quite a bit." Catherine frowned as she sifted through the small selection of evening dresses she'd had her maid pack for her, in search of something appropriate to wear for dinner. Every one of them felt far too grand and showy for the quaint little village, even in their drab black of mourning.

"Well, I feel I can say for certain, it has been far too long since I last left London." She sighed and took one dress down from its hanger; the most simple of the selection, although still beautifully beaded and much too lavish for the place that was to be their dinner destination. "This one will serve. Though, if we do plan to dine out much more this week I fear I shall have to purchase something new and more befitting."

"Yes my Lady," Rosen replied, taking the dress from her mistress's hand. "I can make some enquiries if need be, and at least we'll be more prepared for the next time we visit."

Catherine nodded and smiled. With any luck their next visit would include them staying at the manor rather than in paid accommodation that scarcely passed for the hotel it claimed to be. Oh it was pleasant enough, but the village had little call for a real hotel so the best they could hope for was a room in one of the local public houses, and it was at yet another one of these pubs that herself and her son Thomas had a dinner meeting planned with a gentleman from the local solicitor's.

The first day in the Sussex countryside as a whole had been relatively uneventful. Catherine and Thomas still had not even set eyes upon their new manor house, despite Catherine's eagerness to drive out there and at least catch a glimpse of it the moment they got off the train. Thomas had put her off. As eager as his mother was to see the place for herself, Thomas was just as keen to learn more about its state and history. He felt it was wisest to learn all they could about the place before they went walking into it, it had been empty for such a long time there was no telling what might have been happening in there over the years, what unpleasantness it might be hiding.

Perhaps it was the war that had made him more cautious, or perhaps it was just that he had grown older through years and life experience, but Catherine could not help but notice how much Thomas hated anything that came remotely as a surprise or shock. So, hiding her reluctance and disappointment, she agreed to follow her son's wishes; the house was, after all, his property.

After they had checked into their accommodation, leaving Rosen and Nash to handle the luggage and to settle themselves into their own rooms, Thomas and Catherine made their way out in search of information. It shouldn't be too hard to discover something of worth, Catherine thought; the village seemed small enough that anyone who had lived there for any length of time should at least have a tale to tell about the old manor house, true or not. She also had an inkling that the fact it had remained empty for so long must, naturally, have created an even greater interest in the old place. What kind of stories might people have concocted about such a house? The mystery of it all excited her, and even though she was anxious to put a real life image to the name Marchwood Hall – the grainy photograph that had been provided with their papers satisfied her little – she would happily wait as long as their time proved to be fruitful.

The trip, though interesting enough in itself, was primarily a tool to keep her mind occupied. That day was the first in many where her mind had not fallen into dwelling on the loss of her husband, the crippling of her son. It was the first day in many that had dawned bright and exciting, with tasks to accomplish and goals to achieve. The sun was shining, a January chill hung fresh and crisp in the air, it was going to be a good day. And when George's face crossed through her thoughts, Catherine found him hale and smiling and she felt good to remember him in a such a way.