Augustine gestured to parts of the roof that were covered in heavy moss, and a stretch of wall that was crumbling under the onslaught of a large ivy plant. “My parents haven’t stayed in it for quite some time, and I was gone away at a government posting for the last two years. It’s … embarrassing. I should have told you sooner.”
“Have you never hired a groundskeeper?”
“My parents have other endeavors they prefer to spend their money on, including their residence on the sea.” He shrugged as they started walking toward the front door. Again, he did not proffer so much as an elbow. “And I … well. You know very well now how little country doctors are paid.”
Yes, she did. “It must have been beautiful in its prime.”
“It was glorious. Now I keep to only a few rooms of it. The rest are either empty or have moldering furniture in them. Eventually I’ll have the whole place cleared out, but it just hasn’t been a priority.”
They climbed the stone steps up to the main doors, which were pulled open hastily by a short, thin woman with a frilled cap and a simple brown dress. The woman was perhaps in her midforties, curls of thinning flaxen hair escaping her cap.
“Hello, Mrs. Purl,” Augustine said. His tone was warm, with a faint hint of apology. “There was a misunderstanding with Mr. Lowell. He had Mrs. Lawrence’s things sent here instead of keeping them at the surgery, as I’d intended.”
Mrs. Purl glanced at Jane appraisingly, then smiled at Augustine. “I hardly mind, though your room—”
“She’ll be returning to the surgery after dinner,” he interjected, quickly. “Is the dining room fit for guests?”
“It certainly can be.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
“It’s a special occasion, Dr. Lawrence. I don’t mind.” She curtsied to Jane then, saying, “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lawrence.”
Jane had opened her mouth to respond to the greeting, but Mrs. Purl had already turned away and headed deeper into the building. “Well,” she said after a moment. “She seems—”
“Nice and professional,” Augustine suggested.
“Yes.”
He turned toward her, and finally took both her hands in his, looking into her eyes. The contact was electrifying, lightning coursing through her bones and making her heart seize. She leaned in reflexively.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Happy?” Her thoughts were lagging behind, caught up in the sensation of his skin on hers.
“You’re not regretting today, are you?”
“No. No, I’m not regretting it. And yes, I’m happy.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. Well, I would give you a tour, but there’s not much to see, and I think Mrs. Luthbright will want some input on dinner. I could show you to my study here, if you like?”
He let go, began to walk away.
She hurried after him, as if on a lead.
“What about the conservatory?”
“The conservatory?”
“The room on the third floor, with the glass roof.”
Augustine laughed. “Oh, that. It’s a library, not a conservatory. It’s also entirely empty, I’m afraid. Books moved to the seaside house.”
“Perhaps I’ll just wander, then.” At his pained look, she reached out a hand, then let it drop, unsure, to her side. “You don’t have to be embarrassed by this, Augustine. If I’d had a requirement that my husband have a fine, well-kept house, I would have checked that,” she said, hoping it would get a laugh out of him. It didn’t. “Is it unsafe, to wander?”
“It…” He trailed off, thoughtful, then said, “No, Mrs. Purl hasn’t told me of anything like that. But I would feel much better if you didn’t.”
She was pushing too much, she realized, on too many fronts. She schooled herself back to propriety. “I understand. Your study is…？”
“Upstairs,” he said. “Come with me.”
He turned and led her up a staircase, its carpet worn but clean, its banister polished to a serviceable soft finish. The entry hall was two stories tall, with an arched dome of a ceiling. The stairs curled up along its sides, then out into the wings of the house. They turned down the eastern corridor, into a long, wide hallway with bay windows made of the same murky green glass of the library’s roof. The windows let in little light, and Jane could see that the iron girding was in a different pattern in each window. She wanted to slow for a closer look, but Augustine kept moving.