Everlastin' Book 1 by Mickee Madden Page A

ham. Two portly sausages. Oranges
slices. A small bowl of porridge with a dab of butter in its
center, and a tiny crystal container holding blackcurrant jam. A
silver pot of coffee.
    “Meals are in the dinin'
room, Missy. I'm too old to be fancier'n tha'. No bedroom
service.”
    Beth managed a smile,
although, for the life of her, she couldn't understand the woman's
blatant animosity toward her. “Where is the dining
room?”
    An ancient arm rose up and
the woman pointed across the kitchen.
    “Thank you. Are you going to
join me, Mrs....”
    “Agnes good
enough.”
    “I wouldn't mind the
company, Agnes.”
    The old woman's hard eyes
bored into Beth's but then, to the latter's relief, a sign of
compassion softened them and the old woman scrinched up her
face.
    “Would you now?”
    A musical laugh escaped
Beth. “Please? I promise not to talk your ears off.”
    Agnes gave an airy shrug of
one shoulder. “Aye. I guess you would be gettin' a wee jaggey abou'
now. Go on and eat while tis hot. Me and ma tea'll be along
shortly.”
    The dining room took Beth's
breath. Above an elaborately carved table for ten, hung a
five-tiered gas chandelier, its globes resembling large,
rose-tinted pearls. Long crystal pendants dangled from four of the
tiers, sparkling in the morning sunlight that filtered through
rose-colored organdy under curtains on the two massive bay
windows.
    Placing her tray on the
table, she slowly drew out a chair and lowered herself onto it.
Although hunger gnawed at her stomach, the elegance of the room
captured her attention. Oriental tapestries and portraits covered
sections of the walls. An enormous sideboard displayed china and
crystal, Oriental and Grecian vases, and a pewter collection of
various animals and birds. Above the sideboard were numerous
collections of Imari plates. Several whatnot shelves displayed jade
figurines and hand-painted porcelain Japanese figures.
    Standing between the bay
windows was a Japanese scroll on a tri-legged stand. Off to one
side, willowy peacock feathers sprouted up out of a tall
urn.
    Color. It was so abundant in
this house.
    Placing a hand over her
heart, Beth looked down at her food. Silver eating utensils were
neatly wrapped in a rose-colored linen napkin.
    “I must have died and gone
to heaven,” she said, positioning the knife and fork in her
hands.
    A cold movement of air
passed close to her right. Startled by it, a breath lodged in her
throat, Beth glanced in the direction. She was in the process of
telling herself it wasn't unusual for an old house to be drafty
when something icy caressed her cheek. Resisting a compelling
notion to bolt from the chair and run from the room, she shuddered
and clenched the utensils tighter. The phenomenal flurry of air
shifted at her side then moved off behind her.
    Breathing sparingly, Beth
looked down at her breakfast. Once she forced herself to begin to
eat, the delicious meal brought her jitters to an end. She ate as
if she hadn't in weeks. Although the repast consisted of foods she
was familiar with, the flavor of everything was quite different
from that in the states. Blander but very good. The ham slices were
salty, tender and delicious.
    “You've a good appetite,”
cackled a voice.
    Beth looked up sharply to
her right. Seeing the old woman poised, a teapot in her hands, she
rose to her feet and drew out a chair to her right.
    Agnes gave her a curious
look of surprise before seating herself.
    “Have you eaten?”
    “Aye. I've a son still at
home to tend.” The aged features scrinched up again. “No' tha' he
can’t feed himself, had he a mind.”
    Beth nibbled on an orange
slice while watching the old woman pour herself a cup of
tea.
    “Your no' wha' I expected,
Missy.”
    “Have you worked here
long?”
    “All ma life, it seems,” she
grumbled. She met Beth's earnest eyes and smiled to reveal stained
teeth. “Been an Ingliss in this cursed house too long, we
have.”
    “Ingliss?” Beth dabbed at
her mouth with