Never Doubt I Love by Patricia Veryan Page B

blinked, and asked uneasily, “All—small animals…?”
    â€œAy reelly would not say so. Caesar is a good size. Nor Ay wouldn’t call Cromwell … small exactly. And Viking is a giant! ” Closing the chest of drawers, Gorton added reassuringly, “Charlemagne is quite tiny. But a terrible troublemaker. When you are ready, Miss, Ay will brush out your hair. Lady Julia wishes you to go to her at ten o’clock.”
    By the time Gorton was conducting her along the wide passage, the loneliness that had assailed Zoe during the hours of darkness was forgotten, and her usually sunny outlook was restored. She inspected her new surroundings with ever-increasing curiosity. For such a modern structure, Yerville Hall had a pronounced air of antiquity. She thought, ‘It even smells old!’ The furnishings, while beautifully preserved, were ponderous and more of the thirteenth than the eighteenth century. Many of the portraits adorning the walls appeared to be very old indeed, the coiffures and apparel being those worn in medieval times. There were faded tapestries here also, and some large oil paintings, most depicting great castles or battle scenes.
    Smiling at a maid who bobbed a curtsy as they passed, Zoe exclaimed, “Goodness me! I wonder why they did not simply move into a castle.”
    â€œMay ladies were most fond of their ancestral home,” murmured Gorton, “which was burnt. Although they could not do so on the outside, they tried to make the inside of this house as like it as possible. Even, so they say, to the secret passages and priest’s hole. Here are Lady Yerville’s quarters.”
    The passage ended at a pair of closed doors beside which a cadaverously thin lackey with a mournful expression waited.
    Gorton said, “Miss Grainger is expected, Phipps.”
    His sad blue eyes scanned Zoe curiously, then he rested his ear against one of the doors for a moment before opening it with slow caution. He peered inside, then stood back.
    â€œGo on, Miss!” urged Gorton on a note of urgency. “Quick!”
    Zoe slipped past.
    The door clicked shut behind her.
    She whipped around and was dismayed to find that Gorton and Phipps had remained outside. It was foolish, but her heart began to pound faster and she found herself tiptoeing as she walked on.
    Only the chiming of a clock sounding the quarter hour broke the stillness. The passage stretched out before her, seeming at first much the same as the one she’d just left. She came to realize, however, that this area was even more museum-like, and there was a decidedly musty smell on the air. Probably, she decided, from the tapestries, for there were many of those, some faded and curling with age, alternating with great banners and more paintings. A suit of armour was set in a shallow alcove; a war axe hung above a fine Italian dagger complete with furnishings. Looking at all the curiosities, Zoe heard six chimes in a deeper tone than the clock that had sounded the quarter-hour. Neither had been right. Even the clocks, she thought, were behind the times. A moment later yet another peal announced the half-hour. Zoe’s amusement vanished and she gave a squeak of fright as she trod on a small ball, skidded, and almost fell. She was relieved when a footman hurried from an open doorway to offer his hand and murmur apologies.
    â€œThey should have seen fit to let me know you was here, Miss,” he grumbled. “My lady is wai—”
    A small ginger and white cat shot from another open door and raced past at frenzied speed. There came a sudden pounding, scrambling noise, and a deep, terrifying growling. The footman gave a shout and leapt aside. Her heart in her mouth, Zoe shrank against the wall as an enormous black and white hound thundered straight at her. Its claws slipped on the polished boards, and the powerful back legs slid from under it. The floor shook. A narrow table was slammed against