Chapter Twenty-One: The Overly Ample Homecoming of Sigfried Smith
Guardians of the Twilight Lands -- The Sixth Book of Unexpected Enlightenment
Rachel convinced Siggy and Lucky to leave the gold at the gatehouse and walk down the drive since no one could move the trunks, much less steal them—and since he would be able to see the trunks at any time with his amulet and could send Lucky if anyone approached them. Once they reached the house, workmen could be sent to fetch them.
Ahead, the gravel driveway stretched through lawns and formal gardens filled with topiary figures: green foxes, rabbits, hounds at chase, deer, dragons, centaurs, and even leafy birds, shaped as if in flight. Every fifty feet, green gryphons cut from yew trees stood on guard to either side of the drive. To the north, the lawns and paddocks opened onto rolling moors, spotted with wild ponies. Farther away to the left rose Gryphon Tor, the ruins of the family’s original Saxon castle looming upon its peak. To the south and west, the lawns bordered on forest.
In front of the house, a wide stone platform complete with gardens spanned the moat. Handsome stone gryphons flanked this hundred-foot-wide bridge. From there, it was only a short distance to the manor houses. The main wing of the house had been designed by the architect who built Dare Hall. It had a domed and peaked turret on each side, stylized gables, stone gryphons, and three domed and peaked turrets at the center—two smaller ones flanking a taller one that had a cupola, like a bell tower, which held the Gryphon Park obscuration lantern. To the right, abutting the main wing, rose the ivy-covered Old Castle with its even taller four towers. The west and south wings of the house were not visible from this angle.
Siggy and Lucky gawked at the grounds and the mansion. Their heads craned up as they stared at the cupolas and crenelations.
“How many people live here?” asked Sigfried.
“Six. Well, more like twenty-four, if you count the servants.”
“You have servants?”
“You cannot run such a household without servants,” Rachel replied. “Many of them are descended from families who have served us for generations. Most of the work’s done by fey—bwca, bean-nighe, hobs, fenodyree in the barn, etc.—but we have a butler, a housekeeper, a cook, maids, a steward, a horsemaster, a stable boy, hordes of gardeners, et cetera. Not all live here. Some come for the day, such as some of the gardeners or Father’s steward or the seamstress—who is a distant relation.”
Siggy stared at her as if she were a gibberish-spouting fountain.
“There must be much more than twelve rooms in there,” he said. “If each of you has your own room, who uses the rest of the rooms?”
Rachel shrugged. “Nobody.”
“You have empty rooms,” he breathed, awed. He was too shocked by this revolutionary notion even to suggest lighting them on fire or blowing them up.
The front door opened, and the duke and duchess emerged, followed by Tennyson, the butler. Rachel’s father strode towards them and shook Siggy’s hand. The two gazed at each other with interest. Rachel realized suddenly that they had never met.
The duchess came forward, shy and smiling. Rachel thought her mother looked particularly pretty in her dress with its creamy bodice and dark plaid skirt; a black velvet belt emphasized the narrowness of her waist.
Siggy walked forward, smiling, to meet her. Then, he just stopped in his tracks, frozen, his gaze drawn, like a magnet, to the absurdly generous proportions of the tiny but voluptuous duchess. Rachel recalled something similar had happened back in September, when Siggy first met Rory Wednesday. Rachel’s cheeks began to burn. She wondered if she might combust from sheer embarrassment.
She glanced at her father’s impassive face and caught a twinkle of amusement in his eye. The Duke of Devon had long ago grown used to men’s reactions to his lovely bride, but, in all the years they had been married, no one’s reaction had been quite so dramatic as the young orphan boy, who just stared openly. Usually, men who were ill-bred enough to not behave like gentlemen either made untoward comments or attempted to ogle her mother discretely.
Siggy just gawked, stunned.
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