Chapter 4
Laura woke to an empty bed and sunlight filtering through the windows. Blinking, she took inventory of her body's aches and pains, noticing her head was tender but not unbearable. The room was cool but not cold, hopefully an indication of the day's weather. Sitting up, Laura was trying to decide if she wanted to try to shower without getting her head wet or simply head down for something to eat when the door opened slowly. Remington was carrying a steaming cup of hot coffee for her, tea for himself.
"Feeling better, Mrs. Steele?" he asked.
"Mmmm, nothing time won't take care of, Mr. Steele," Laura replied. Taking the coffee from him, she closed her eyes as she took her first sip. "This will help," she decided.
"I think we should stay close to the Castle today. Maybe walk the grounds a little. The Dunnes, Pace and Christian should be about for lunch," Remington suggested. He didn't want Laura to overexert herself.
"And I'm still waiting for Mildred to call. So, yes, a walk on the grounds sounds perfect," Laura smiled.
"Well then, Mrs. Steele, let's say we get some breakfast, attend to the dressing on your wound, and figure out a lunch menu with the cook," Remington stood, reaching out for Laura.
"Maybe a shower?" Laura asked as she stood.
"Laura, you know what…" Remington pursed his lips as he began.
"I won't wash my hair or even try to. Just some hot water to finish loosening up these muscles," Laura pleaded.
"A bath. And another light massage if you need," Remington countered.
"A bath, some stretching at the barre and a massage," Laura countered again, stepping forward to close the gap between them.
"Mrs. Steele, you are one stubborn woman," Remington said as he swiped his mouth with his hand. Chewing on his lip for a few seconds, he said, "Stretching at your barre, minimally, a hot bath, a light massage if needed after breakfast. Nothing else."
Laura wrapped her arms around him, "Nothing else."
Hugging her, Remington kissed the top of her head gently. "How's your head this morning?" he asked.
"I'll live. It could be worse," Laura admitted. She was grateful she no longer had a headache.
Together, they made their way to the kitchen where Mickeline was sitting, sipping a cup of tea. "My Lord, my Lady, what can I do for you this morning?" he greeted them. When he noticed the gauze wrapping on Laura's head, he immediately got concerned. "Mrs. Steele! Are you alright?"
"I will be. Just a scratch," Laura played off the injury as she usually did.
"A scratch, Mrs. Steele? That looks much worse than a scratch," Mickeline exclaimed.
Knowing Laura didn't like to be the center of attention for an injury, Remington changed the subject quickly, "Mickeline, we will be expecting guests for lunch today. Is the cook about? I'd like to see if he has any new recipes he'd like to try. Dinner the other night was absolutely delicious, I'd suspect lunch would be nothing less."
"I'll get him straightaway," Mickeline stood and disappeared into the office beyond the kitchen. The cook appeared shortly after.
"My Lord, Mickeline just informed me you are expecting guests today. Will your lunch be formal or informal?"
"Informal I would think. Salads, soup, sandwiches maybe. Would you agree, Mrs. Steele?" Remington pondered.
"It all sounds wonderful to me. I'm starving now," Laura admitted. Her stomach was just beginning to rumble.
"I have some new scones this morning, my Lady," the cook informed her. He turned toward a cabinet and removed several covered containers. "Walnut raisin, black treacle and spicy ones."
Laura eyed the containers, trying to decide which one she wanted to taste. Remington smiled as he watched her then said, "Why don't we try a few of each? We can bring them into the gallery for a change. The sun is out, warming the room. A nice spot for breakfast I would say."
The cook nodded affirmatively, placing several of each flavor on a plate. Remington refilled Laura's coffee mug and poured one for himself. He carried the scones and mug, Laura following.
The gallery was a good sized room, painted buttery yellow with bookshelves filled with the colorful spines of the old tomes. Above a glass topped table surrounded by pillow topped rattan chairs was a skylight, the soft glow of the morning sun warming the room. Remington placed the scones on the table and pulled a chair out for Laura to recline in.
"What a beautiful space, Mr. Steele! I haven't seen this room before, " she exclaimed as she relaxed into the cushioned seat. Picking up a scone, she tasted, then hummed with satisfaction.
"Well, there are a number of rooms about the castle I'm sure you've yet to explore, Laura. Maybe after lunch we can do just that," he proposed.
"I thought we were going to walk the grounds?" Laura asked, slightly confused.
Grinning, Remington answered, "We have all day, love."
Laura returned his grin, but quickly sobered. "You don't think Tony is going to show up again today, do you?" she asked quietly.
Remington placed his mug on the table, appearing slightly agitated at her question. Running his hand across his mouth, he stood and began to pace.
"Rem, I…" Laura began but he cut her off.
"Laura, I've been thinking about Mr. Roselli and his unnatural obsession with you. And I'll be honest, I think the only one that is going to convince him to leave us alone is you. He's not going to listen to me. Hasn't yet, the bloody maggot, and I hate asking you to do this but I think you're going to have to sit him down and tell him to bugger off," Remington uttered rigidly as he paced.
Laura opened her mouth to reply but closed it again quickly. Taking a deep breath, she answered him, "Fine. When?"
"The sooner the better, I'd say. I don't want him sniffing around your heels like a damn dog in heat any longer," Remington voiced angrily.
"Do you know where he's staying because I don't," Laura spit back at him. She was getting angry although she wasn't sure why.
Remington stopped pacing to look at her. He could hear her tone, he knew she was getting angry and that wasn't his intention. Slowly, he crossed the room to stand beside her chair. Kneeling down so he was eye level with her, he ran his knuckles down her cheek. Quietly, he spoke. "We'll find him. I'm sure someone in town, at the pub, knows him by now. He's a hard fellow to forget, eh? I just want him out of our lives for good, Laura."
Laura reached up to hold his hand hovering just above her jawline. Looking into his crystal clear blue eyes, she could see the intensity they held, focused only on her. She closed her eyes sighed, then said, "So do I."
Remington brought her hand to his lips, brushing her fingers lightly. "I'll take a trip into town later, see what we can find out, while you rest," he said matter of factly.
"While I rest? What am I, a child? I don't need…" Laura pulled her hand away as she spoke. Something in the way he looked at her made her stop talking. She couldn't place her finger on it, but it reminded her of the look her father used to give her as a child when she was misbehaving. No words were necessary to get the meaning across. "Fine. I'll… rest… later, while you go into town," she conceded.
"Splendid idea, Mrs. Steele. Now let's say we enjoy these wonderful scones so we will have time to go for a walk before everyone gets here for lunch. I'd like to find some places for the photographer to take pictures. Truly document the occasion," Remington stated as he sat beside her at the table. Choosing one of the spice scones, he took a bite, savory every morsel.
"I haven't found one yet. Do you think Mickeline would have any suggestions?" Laura asked between bites.
"Most likely. He seems to be a wealth of local knowledge. Said he had a local band in mind. I'll have to remember to get the name from him when we get back to the kitchen," Remington sipped his coffee.
Once they finished breakfast and Laura declared she couldn't possibly eat another bite, they carried their dirty dished to the kitchen. As Laura washed, Remington found Mickeline in the office on the phone. Remington waved apologetically, turning to leave. Mickeline noticed him immediately, holding up his hand to stop him.
"My Lord, what can I help you with?" Mickeline asked as he hung up the phone.
"The name of that local band… I don't remember seeing it beside the phone in the study," Remington began.
"Ah, yes, I apologize, Mr. Steele. The one I was originally thinking of has taken a small tour offer for some pubs across England and Scotland. I have another in mind. They are quite good. I heard they will be playing in town this evening if you'd be interested," Mickeline explained.
"This evening? Well, I'm not sure Mrs. Steele is feeling up to an adventure out. I may have to go alone, unless you want to join me for a pint?" Remington smiled at the gentleman.
"Mrs. Steele isn't going to be angry?" Mickeline asked, not wanting to cause any friction between the two.
"Not at all. She's very understanding about these matters," Remington assured him.
"Well then, shall we depart around eight o'clock?" Mickeline suggested.
"Excellent, my good man. What ah… what is the name of this band? Just out of pure curiosity," Remington asked.
"Hothouse Flowers, my Lord," Mickeline stated.
"Hot...House….Flowers…." Remington eyed him suspiciously.
"Yes, my Lord," Mickeline nodded.
"Eight o'clock then," Remington walked back toward the kitchen trying to decide if a band was a good idea or not. He would find out that evening.
