Manor Born (Closed)

[TheIrishRover]

Gerald Farnsworth, Lord of Farnsworth Manor, was put out. The day had started well enough, with flying fishing in his own trout streams and then sitting down to a lunch, prepared by cook, of his own catch. It had progressed well enough, with drinks at the club and a round of gin rummy with his cronies. Now SHE was to arrive though.

It was evening, and the sun was just setting across his estate. It hit the large, limestone manor house, sending shadows across the gardens and topiaries. A cool Spring breeze was shaking the leaves on the trees and whistling down the parkway.

He stared at the black limousine approaching with annoyance. He was to be saddled with Miss Maryweather for two weeks, and all because she was a distant second cousin, who desperately wanted to reconnect with her British roots. It had not been his idea. His sister, Samantha, had been communicating with the American on some genealogical website for months now. He imagined her as the worst sort of matron, with hideous clothing, a thick Boston accent and photo albums full of stuffy old pictures of ancestors, that he would be subjected too.

As the limousine approached, he stiffened his spin. He was a fine figure of a man, with obvious military bearing and broad shoulders. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and precise. There was a frown below his long, straight nose and piercing black eyes. His firm chin was freshly shaved, as always, and he wore a dark blue three piece suit. Everything about him screamed culture and breeding.

Gerald had grown up, raised by governesses and tutors. Rarely had his parents showed their faces to their son, and when he was nine years old, he was shipped off to an exclusive boarding school. It had been a lonely childhood, away from his sister. They had written to each other faithfully, every week, for years, and in some ways, she was his only female friend.

His sister stood by his side. She was a pale, blonde woman in her late forties. Unfortunately for her, she had inherited the same family face that he had, which looked well enough on a man, but not on a woman. He knew her to be an angel though; his angel, and doted on her. "Be nice Gerald," she warned, as the limousine pulled up on the parkway, in front of the massive stone stairs.

He started down the stairs, not knowing at all what to expect from her. In point of fact, he did not even know her Christian name. The first thing he saw, as the limousine door opened, were a shapely pair of bare legs.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

Excitement and exhilaration tempered with a strong dose of nerves coursed through Marianne Marywether as the limousine turned into the drive. Her fingers clutched the door handle, and a smooth cheek pressed tight against the window pane as she craned her head to catch a full view of the limestone mansion. It was breathtaking.

Marianne's stomach dropped, and her skin prickled with a sudden bout of nerves. Of course, she had seen pictures of the house and grounds sent by Samantha Farnsworth who had become such a great friend and help over the last year, but the images that she had pulled up on her computer hardly prepared her for the formal richness of the land sprawled out before her. Marianne almost felt as if she had been dropped into a Jane Austen novel.

A nervous giggle sprang to Marianne's lips, and she bit the inside of her cheek to hold it in check. The chauffeur that had met her at the airport no doubt already thought her a strange one after her reaction to being picked up in a limo with a chauffeur and her less than subtle gawking at everything they passed. The last thing he needed to see was her bursting into a fit of hysterical, nervous giggles. This was her first time abroad, and Marianne intended not to make a fool of herself.

As soon as the limo pulled to a stop, Marianne took a quick bracing breath and pulled the door handle. Marianne took a deep breath of English air as she stepped out onto the drive right before the house. Her nerves suddenly calmed, and a wide smile formed as she spotted someone coming her way. This was the land of her ancestors. There was a feeling of rightness and belonging here.

Marianne took a moment to brush at her slightly rumpled skirt, which flowed smoothly over her hips and hung straight to her knees. Marianne had spent hours agonizing on what to wear for her arrival at the Farnsworth Estate and had eventually settled on the skirt and a white silk, button up blouse--simple but nice. Certainly not what Marianne would usually have chosen for travel wear, but as her grandmother always said, you never get a second first impression. Marianne flipped her honey blonde hair back over her shoulders and stepped forward to be greeted by her hosts with a smile that shone in her hazel eyes.

 

[TheIrishRover]

The sun was truly setting now, sending flashed orange across the sky. Gerald did not notice it. He was staring, somewhat rudely, at the American, before he could stop himself. Finally he did though. She was far from the matron he had expected. She was exquisite. Suddenly he was even less pleased to receive their visitor. How was he supposed to function, knowing that she would be under the same roof as him?

Samantha stepped forward, the picture of British sophistication, and did something very unlike herself. She hugged the American. Gerald was shocked. In the years he had know her, she had never even hugged him, though he would have welcomed it, he supposed. Gerald could barely remember being hugged, though he supposed his governesses might have done so.

Gerald stepped forward and was going to speak, but Samantha was already speaking.

"It is so good to meet you in the flesh Marianne dear! Gerald and I are very excited for your visit, aren't we Gerald?" She gave her brother and imploring look, which Gerald could not refused. He sighed slightly, but managed to get out.

"Yes, it is our pleasure to meet you and to have you into our home." He stepped forward and offered his hand.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

Marianne returned her host's embrace with affection, gratitude, and a sense of relief. While Marianne had felt she instantly connected with this distant relation through their series of emails and chats, there had been a whisper of doubt in the far corner of her mind that the dream like invitation to visit had been some malicious prank or practical joke. More than once, Marianne had awakened in a cold sweat from a dream where the invitation had been rescinded and she'd been left stranded in a strange country with no where to go. Samantha's hug swept away her lingering fears and bolstered her confidence, which only faltered slightly when introduced to Samantha's brother Gerald.

Marianne knew of Gerald, of course. Samantha had mentioned him in the course of their correspondence, but Marianne hadn't expected him to be quite so . . . well, so compelling and yet forbidding. Marianne felt small as she stepped forward to shake his hand.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality. I'll never be able to tell you just how much this means to me. And you must both call me Mari. Everybody does! Except of course, Grandmother and Grandfather and Mrs. Willis down the street but that is simply so that she doesn't confuse me with her own granddaughter Mary, you see." Marianne's words tripped and stumbled over themselves in their rush to come out while she tried to surreptitiously wipe her suddenly damp palms down the sides of her skirt.

 

[TheIrishRover]

"Please come inside." Said Samantha. "I am sure you'll want to freshen up." She lead their guest through the massive front doors, with Gerald following. Mari found herself in a large entry hall, with oak paneling and a polished marble floor. Along with walls were Victorian sideboards and couches with red upholstery.

A tall, thin, spectral man, with gray hair, held the door open for them. "Welcome miss." His name was Worthington, and he had been the family butler for almost three generations. Gerald was unsure how old he really was, and did not feel it was right to ask, as long as the man could do his job.

As they walked into the entry hall, Mari would be able to see the oil paintings lining the walls. Samantha went up to one of them and pointed. It was a portrait of a solemn man in his late fifties, dressed in fine eighteenth century clothing. "Here is Sir Francis Farnsworth, who you were so curious about. It is said that his ghost still haunts these very halls, though I have not seen it myself.

Gerald followed them in, and listened to his sister talking about Sir Francis. He had never seen him either, but he had heard some moans in the hallways, when he was a small boy. His governess had quickly squelched any such talk. His father would not put up with superstition, any more than Gerald would himself. He had long ago convinced himself that what he heard was produced by the over active imagination of a young lad.

"Samantha, maybe we should let the young woman see her bed chamber, and freshen up a bit, before you go full bore into the family legends."

 

[Browneyed_girl]

Marianne smiled in agreement with thought of freshening up. The two hour wait in the airport and the eight hours on the plane had been draining, and airports always left her feeling a little dirty.

As her hosts led the way back up the stone stairs, Marianne hesitated for a moment wondering about her luggage until she caught sight of the chauffeur headed perhaps to a side door with her luggage in tow. Mari quickened her steps to catch up to her hosts and was slightly breathless when they entered the house, greeted by an older gentlemen. "Hello," Mari said and fought the urge to bob a curtsey.

The inside of the manor was every bit as breathtaking as the outside had been. The entry hall left her astounded. Her eyes had to be the size of saucers, and yet they could hardly take it all in. It was everything she had imagined.

When Samantha pointed out the portrait of Sir Francis Farnsworth, Mari studied the piece with interest. Here was the portrait of the man she had come to learn more of. The man responsible for it all. She darted a glance at Gerald and wondered if she couldn't see some family resemblance there.

"Do you not believe in ghosts, Mr. Farnsworth?" Mari asked, stepping away from the portrait and turning toward Gerald.

 

[TheIrishRover]

"No, Ms. Maryweather, I do not." His answer was short, direct, and not at all thought out before he spoke it. "Do you? If so, I am sure there are many creaks and moans this old house can make which will excite you to no end." He was not trying to be rude, but it naturally came to him to be a bit short in his personality.

His sister cleared her throat and stared at him pointedly. Gerald sighed. "Yes, well, we would love for you to join us for dinner, in the main dining room, after you have had a chance to settle in to your room and freshen up. I am sure you are jet lagged after your long flight." He forced himself to smile at her and did so to win his sister's approval.

They usually did not use the formal dining room, but had their dinners brought to their chambers. Samantha had insisted that the young American deserved every consideration and that he would have formal dinners for her, while she was in the house. With reluctance, and because he doted on his sister, Gerald had agreed.

"Worthington, would you show the young lady to her room please?" The butler nodded, as a young footman came from the corner of the room, and easily lifted her two suitcases.

"If you will follow me miss. You will be staying in the East wing, on the second floor." The ancient butler started up the stone stairs, slowly but surely.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

A tart reply perched on the edge of Marianne's tongue, but she closed her mouth before it escaped. She was not really offended or even put off by his brusque manner, though it did stir an impish desire within to poke him and see just how loud he would growl.

"Well, thank you. I do appreciate it," Marianne said in her most polite voice in response to Gerald's invitation to freshen up and join them for dinner. Yet her eyes still twinkled with the excitement of this new experience, and she flashed a warm smile to both Samantha and Gerald before following Worthington up the stairs.

Following the butler's snail pace gave Marianne ample time to survey and marvel at her surroundings. As they passed rows of door, Mari's hands itched to turn the knobs and see what lay behind them--perhaps empty guest rooms or studies or perhaps an insane wife for Gerald (a thought no doubt prompted from the reading of Jane Eyre on the flight over).

The room Mari was given was everything she could have dreamed it to be, from its deep mahogany, four poster bed to the dressing table with a fresh flower bouquet and the walls covered in a mint green floral print. Her luggage had already been delivered, by the chauffeur she presumed, and was sitting at the foot of the bed.

It took Marianne only twenty-five minutes to prepare for dinner. Five minutes to comb her hair and pin it partially up, letting half trail down her neck and spill over her shoulders like warm honey. Another five minutes to freshen her make up and change her clothes, but that was only after she spent the first fifteen minutes staring into her suitcase in despair, unsure what would be considered suitable clothing for dinner. In the end, she settled on a little black dress with a scoop neckline and that was meant to reach mid-knee but with Mari's height stopped a couple inches short.

Mari looked longingly at her jeans or better yet her soft cotton pajama shorts, but she doubted they would be appropriate. Yet, at the same time, she could only hope she wasn't over dressed as she slipped on her strappy black heels. But with her limited wardrobe options, she hoped her hosts would over look any fashion faux pas if she was indeed over or under dressed.

Mari lingered in her room a few minutes after she finished dressing, unsure if anyone would come to get her or if she should try to find her own way to the dining room. After only a short while, Mari decided that action was the best course, and there was always the advantage that it would give her an excuse to do some extra exploring. With that thought, she slipped out into the hall.

 

[TheIrishRover]

Gerald found himself taking extra care with his preparations, as he dressed for dinner. He had chosen a light tan suit jacket and slacks. He frowned at himself in the mirror, his thick eyebrows accusing him. Your an old fool, he thought. The attractive American girl was not going to care how he looked, or what he wore.

His chambers were done up in a hunting theme, with pictures of hounds. The walls were Lincoln green and the furniture was all darkly stained oak. He found himself pacing about his chambers, and forced himself to head to the dining room. He stopped at the head of the stairs to wait for their guest though. It would not do to have her arrive at dinner without an escort.

From the top of the stairs he could see the whole of the entry hall. It had been his late wife Camille, who had decorated it, and fifteen years after his death, it still retained her vision. His sister Samantha had been on him to change it for years now, but he could not bring himself to do so. He did not believe in ghosts, but his wife's memory haunted him still.

His union to Camille had been a virtually arranged marriage; a union of two old established houses. Their courtship had been expected and almost predetermined. Still, he had grow to love her dearly and her death had shattered his world. His eyes turned to a portrait of her, at the head of the stairs. She had been a dark beauty, with deeply brunette hair and coal black eyes.

He had been waiting for the American what seemed like ages, when he finally decided to go look for her. If they did not start on time, cook would be upset. He was a fine cook and Gerald did not wish to have to look for another. Moving down the hall, he found the door to her room open and her missing. With annoyance he started to open doors, looking for her.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

Marianne wandered down the hall, more or less in the direction toward the main stairs. Though the manor was so large, and they had taken a few turns on the way to her room so that she wasn't entirely sure. Mari had never had a sense for direction. She was hopeless as a navigator and relied solely on her GPS to ever make it anywhere.

As she walked down the halls, Mari found herself opening doors at random and peeking inside. Most of the rooms appeared to be guest rooms like her own, though more ghostly as the furniture was mostly covered in white drapes. With these rooms, Mari simply stuck her head inside, peered around, and then withdrew. She had no worry of opening the door into someone's private bedchamber as neither Samantha or Gerald had appeared to follow when she'd been escorted this way earlier, and she doubted the servants slept here as the halls were not only quiet but slightly dusty as well.

It wasn't until she reached the end of a hall (who knew how close or far from the stairs she had come?), that Mari found something to catch her interest. It was a wide room situated on the corner of the house with large bay windows overlooking the estate. The view was magnificent as was the delicate furniture. It was obviously not a room currently in use as the fine dust that was evident in many of the guest rooms was also here. Yet, this room was not shroud covered and had a certain air of having been cared for. Curiosity over ruling common sense, Mari stepped inside for a closer inspection.

 

[TheIrishRover]

Gerald eventually found an open door. He stopped and paused as he realized what room it was. She did not. She could not... He stepped inside. She had. Marianne was standing in the one room that no one else was allowed in, starting out the windows.

Gerald fought to control his anger. He knew in his heart that it was not the woman's fault. How was she to know. He strode over to the dresser and carefully laid the picture on it flat, so she would not see it accidentally. He did not wish to discuss his pain with some American cousin.

This had been his wife's room. They had spent many happy moments here, together. He could not bear to see changed from the easy she had left it. Her hair brush lay where she had last laid it down. Her jewelry box sat open and a pair silver earrings still sat out, ready for her delicate ears.

He moved over to stand beside her at the windows. The view was as he remembered it. It looked down into a once beautiful walled garden, now overgrown. In the center grew a small pear tree, now heavy with fruit. Tears weld up in his eyes unbidden. "You should not be in here."

 

[Browneyed_girl]

"You should not be in here."

Marianne jumped like a guilty cat at the sound of Gerald's voice. She had only been in the room a few moments, drawn from the first to the wide windows with their garden views. She'd only briefly glanced about the room, touched the fine silk curtains hanging from the bed, and paused to stare out at the wild garden growing below.

Marianne's face flushed a guilty shade of pink as she turned to face him. "I'm sorry," Mari said. "I . . . I was looking for . . ." The lie died on her lips. It was useless anyway. Only an idiot would truly believe she'd actually been looking for the dining room.

Mari swallowed hard, wet her lips, and tried again. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come in here, but the room is truly beautiful. It didn't exactly look like it belonged to anyone." Mari fumbled her words in an attempt to explain how she had come to be there. It didn't help that she'd just taken a good look at the man standing there. His light colored suit contrasted well with his dark hair and eyes--eyes that perhaps seemed a bit more vulnerable in this light. A tiny flutter kicked up in her lower abdomen.

"I'm truly sorry. I suppose you came looking for me?"

 

[TheIrishRover]

Gerald admired that she did not finish her lie, for it was obvious that she had been snooping. That was what she was here for after all; to snoop. She was a snooper, prying into her family history. She was an anglophile, getting back to her roots. He sighed, still gazing at out at the garden he had let go. Camille's garden, which she had personally taken care of, with her own two hands.

"Yes, I came looking for you. I do not mean to be rude, but this room is off limits. You can... poke around all you want in the rest of the house, but please stay out of here."

The fact was that he very much minded her poking around in his house, but he could in no way stop her, short of tying her down. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, as the image came to his mind unbidden. It was best to allow her free reign, so that she could get it out of her system and the sooner the better. He did not need to answer her questions. Samantha would do that. He just needed to hide in his study, or down at the pub, and allow her to do her thing.

He turned, without waiting for her. He assumed that she would follow. He lead her down to the hallway and then down the stairs, still assuming that she would follow. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he waited for her, holding out his arm, so that she could take it.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I understand," Marianne murmured, properly ashamed.

Yet even as Gerald led the way from the room, Mari could hardly keep herself from glancing about; her interest perked more than ever. He had practically called this room forbidden. So, why? Her eyes swept the room as they left looking for any possible clue, though nothing stood out. She noticed the overturned frame and the brush, but these things were meaningless to her.

Mari chewed at her lower lip as she followed Gerald down the hallway and then the stairs, wondering how best she could perhaps draw the answer to this mystery from him. He was intriguing.

"Gerald," Mari said as she came off the last step. "I hope it's not too rude to ask, but as this is your home and I doubt anyone would know it better, I was wondering if perhaps you would mind giving me a tour at some point when you might have time?"

Pausing for a moment, Mari wondered why he didn't continue on until she noticed his extended arm. Her cheeks flushed pink again at her almost gaffe. With only slight trepidation, Mari slipped her slim, pale hand onto his arm.

"It would keep me from crossing into any more forbidden territory," she continued in a tone of persuasion, chancing a glance up at him. It was perhaps a bit much to ask after he'd just discovered her snooping, but her instincts told her he would be the one that could provide the material she needed.

 

[TheIrishRover]

Gerald was quite astonished to hear himself say "Perhaps." Why had he said it? He certainly did not want to give her a tour, did he? He mentally kicked himself for even agreeing to think about it.

He led her into the front hallway, past the door to the parlor, to the dining room. "On the other hand, my sister knows much more of the family history than I do. Perhaps you should as her? " Again, when his words came out a question, he was surprised.

The dining room was papered in a touch red wallpaper with little gold crosses. The family crest, painted in gold, was above the entryway. The was a long mahogany table and an equally long side bar. The table had seating for twelve, but only for places were set up. Samantha sat at one and an elderly man with a bushy mustache at the other. The head of the table day empty as hide the chair to it's left. Fine china with a floral print and real silver silverware were set out asking with crystal goblets of wine.

Gerald lead Marianne to her seat and then pulled it out for her. "Miss Marianne Merryweather, may I introduce Herbert Andrew, Samantha's husband." He looked in his sixties, but looked as fit as could be. His silver hair was full and his back straight. He gave their guest a wink. "Samantha had told me all about you dear. Welcome to our home."

 

[Browneyed_girl]

Gerald's response was much more positive than Mari had hoped, half believing she would receive a resounding no. It was a strong encouragement, even if he did follow it up with an attempt to dump her on his sister. Mari smiled, feeling a bit more confident now. "Oh, Samantha and I have already made plans to go over all sorts of things and that was before I even got here. But I always think it's important to get a second perspective on things. And it's obvious you would be the best person for it."

As they entered the dining room, Marianne was very grateful for her little black dress and strappy heels. This was definitely not the kind of room for pajama shorts or even jeans. For a moment she wondered if there was any room in this house for that kind of attire. If they ate with this formality every night, she would be in desperate need of a wardrobe infusion or they were all going to get awfully tired of her black dress.

Mari hesitated a moment before she slipped into the seat Gerald held out for her. "Thank you," Mari murmured. Her cheeks colored faintly as she realized how unusual these casual courtesies were for her, and he kept taking her by surprise with them.

Samantha's husband was also a small surprise. He was older than Mari would have imagined him, but she felt an instant liking for the gentleman as his warm manner put her instantly at ease. Mari even returned his wink with one of her own. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Andrew," Mari said. "I've been looking forward to coming here and meeting with you all for so long I can hardly believe it has actually happened."

 

[TheIrishRover]

Herbert smiled back at her. "Well, you are most welcome, my dear. These two can show you the house well enough, but don't forget to have Gerald take you into town! It is quite colorful and quaint. A new boutique just opened up on Main Street, which I am sure you would enjoy." His voice was a soft tenor. There was the smell of pipe tobacco about him as well.

Gerald had not even considered taking her into town. It was embarrassing enough to have a distant American relation visiting, without flaunting her about town. It could not be helped though. Dear old Herbert had practically volunteered him to take her. The fact was that there were a number of old building she might find interesting. The primary one he thought of was the local church. It had burial and birth records, dating back for generations and had a cemetery, where most of their relatives, for the past two hundred years or more, had been buried.

Gerald had not been to church since his wife's tragic death. It was not that he had stopped believing in God, but that he had stopped caring. What kind of God would take away his beloved wife, so early in their marriage? The vicar had tried to reason with him, and still tried to talk to him about visiting, but Gerald was firm. The only reason he would go into that building now, was because the American would want to see t.

He was surprised that he actually was thinking about what would please the American. She was an intruder, not a guest, and had already broken the house's primary rule. Still, there was something about her. She was beautiful, and full of curiosity, like a junior investigator, or something. He told himself to watch it. He could not afford to allow her to close.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

"That sounds amazing!" Mari's eyes glowed with her excitement, and Samantha's husband leaped close to the top of her favorite people list. She could hardly wait to dig in and discover all the answers she'd come here to find. And what girl could resist the thought of shopping, especially while touring?

Mari did glance over at Gerald with a cat like grin as she suspected giving her a tour of the town was probably less likable than the tour of the house. If she wasn't careful, he might be thoroughly sick of her presence before the week's end. Still, she couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him a bit, even if it teetered precariously on the border of flirtation. "I think it would be a wonderful plan, Mr. Farnsworth. I'll even let you take me to the new boutique if you want." The grin lingered on her lips for several minutes as she pictured the reserved Gerald showing her about in a lady's boutique.

As the meal was set before them, Mari had to pinch herself under the table to be sure she was really here, in England, eating in a formal dining room with a proper English family--her family really. It was almost surreal. The pinch also helped her keep her head out of her soup as the travel, time change, and excitment started to take its toll.

"I hope this isn't a rude question, but do you all have dinner like this every night?" Mari asked the family in general, gesturing with one hand at the formal dining room and the food being served.

 

[TheIrishRover]

Gerald grimaced visible at the thought of taking her to the boutique. He could just imagine having to sit by, as she tried on outfits and asked him to offer complements. The thought scared him, to say the least. He next heard her question, but did not answer. This was supposed to be Samantha's guest, and she could bloody well field the questions!

Samantha did answer, with a laugh. "Oh Heavens not dear! We usually eat in our rooms. After all, it's just the three of us, rattling around in this old house." She put her hand on her husbands. They both had their own chambers, as was the custom, but they always had dinner in one or the others' rooms, and then stayed the night. in twenty years of marriage, then had rarely been apart.

"So, did you come right here from the airport, or did you take the time to see London? We are so close that you really must see it before you leave. It would only be a forty five minute drive. I am sure that Gerald would rather take you there, than the village, but there is always time to do both! How long were you planning on staying, dear?"

Gerald felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into his chair as his sister volunteered him for more chauffeuring duties. Surely she knew he was to busy? The fact was, he realized with dread, was that he was not. He had the time.

 

[Browneyed_girl]

"Oh, I saw about as much of London as you can see with your face pressed to the glass in the backseat of a car!" Marianne declared with a laugh. "I didn't want to take advantage of your sending someone to pick me up by having him take me sightseeing also. So, I'm sure I simply looked ridiculous the whole ride here as I tried to take in as much as I could. And I do intend to fully explore London before I go home. My ticket is open ended as I wasn't sure how long I'd be welcome, and I knew I might need to do some touring on my own after leaving here. Of course, sightseeing is always more enjoyable when you have someone with you." Mari glanced at Gerald, wondering just how welcome she would really be, and addressed him directly, "Of course, I don't want to be a burden or bother during my stay."

Though Mari smiled and even laughed lightly as she spoke, her eyes held a certain watchfulness of her hosts. She honestly meant it when she spoke of not wanting to be trouble for them and really, considering her purpose here, she shouldn't disrupt their every day routines too much if she wanted to gain a true insight into their lives. As she took a bite of sweet meat and pastry bread, her conscience prodded her, turning the food sour in her mouth, which was ridiculous. She had already determined before she came that nothing she wrote would harm them, and now having met them, she was certain there was nothing in their lives to write that would. Though the thought of a forbidden room did linger and made her wonder if she could find it again perhaps one night.