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Tom stood in the large hallway of the grand house unable to believe the hand fate had drawn for him. He didn't want this. Couldn't do this.
"Mam?"
Margaret Branson stepped up from behind her son, the click of her low heel echoing around the hall.
"Why me?" Tom asked her.
"Tommy. You went through all that with the solicitor. The old man's son was killed in the war, your cousin was killed in the rising, so when the old man passed in September it meant you inherited."
"Why not Kieran?"
"I can think of a few reasons!" His mother scoffed. "Now, are you going to show me around, or shall I go and find the housekeeper?"
"Mam!" The panic in his voice was evident. "I can't have a housekeeper," he virtually whispered.
"Why on earth not? You can't look after the place on your own."
"But…"
"Tommy I know it's all very strange. I was a maid before I married your father. But you can't let the whole place crumble. It's beautiful."
Tom had to admit it was beautiful. The bright white exterior radiated against the dull, grey sky. He could only imagine how glorious it would be in the summer. The Doric columns screamed opulence and wealth at any visitor venturing up the gravel path. The foyer had much the same effect.
"Besides," his mother continued "if Lord Grantham passed, what would you do?"
"Stay and serve Mr Matthew I guess."
"There you are. These folk are relying on you Tom."
He tentatively took another step forward. It wasn't like he could undo any of it. The solicitor had been very clear on that score!
"Where do we start?" Tom felt like a young child seeking his mother's help, but he was so out of his depth.
"Why don't we take some of the sheets off the furniture?" Tom nodded. His mother, after waiting to see whether Tom would move, pushed her way through the nearest double doors into a pale grey room with long curtains hiding the full windows that led out to the garden. Tom followed her and pulled the curtains back, letting the weak winter sun seep in. He gazed back round the room. The statues all seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Margaret pulled a sheet off the nearest object revealing a beautiful red and gold chair. Tom whistled and copied her actions.
"This set alone must have cost more than my annual wage!"
"Oh hush! You can't think like that now, and you don't want to make gossip for the servants." Tom rolled his eyes and walked into the next room. He started with what he assumed to be a table by the window. He pulled the white sheet away to reveal a beautiful, marble topped writing table. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface when a shriek made him jump and look round.
"Jaysus Marion, what you yellin' yer lungs off for? Oh!" The two women stood facing him and Tom looked at them blankly.
"Hello, you must be Mrs Kirkpatrick. I'm Mrs Branson and this is my son Tom." Margaret walked through into the room. Both women immediately curtseyed, realising this strange young man was in fact their new employer.
"We had no idea you were here Ma'am. Sir."
"Could we have some tea?" They both bobbed again and scuttled away and Margaret ignored the incredulous look her son was giving her. She sat in one of the plush red and gold chairs and waited. Tom watched her from the doorway.
"Darrell won't be able to sit still like that." He commented.
"That's why she's not here yet." His mam retorted. Tom rolled his eyes again and went back to the dustsheets. He'd uncovered the mahogany writing cabinet and another chair when the housekeeper bustled back in with a tea tray.
"There you are. Oh, Sir, you mustn't bother yourself with that! I'll get the girls on it right away." She took the sheets right out of his arms before he could protest. He wandered back to his mam and flopped ungraciously down in a chair, then immediately straightened up as he felt the gilding under his fingertips.
"No wonder they always sit so upright. Fear of breakin' the feckin' furniture!" He got up again, clearly restless. He walked back into the hall and into the room behind the stairs. The maid hurried out of the opposite door when he entered but Tom didn't notice. He stood with his mouth agape staring up at the enormous chandelier that hung, glistening, in the centre of the room. Slowly, he turned and looked about the rest of the room. The windows were high and framed with light blue-grey curtains which matched the frieze running around the top of the wall. The room looked as though it stretched the entire width of the house, and Tom found himself wondering if this was anything like the ballrooms Sybil frequented throughout her season. He blinked his eyes shut against the thought, and carefully walked round the room. It was truly beautiful.
Childish curiosity began to overpower Tom and led him from room to room. Upstairs he found a dining room with exquisite Italian paintwork, an indoor bathroom and a very small library. Clearly his predecessor had not been one for reading. At the end of the long white corridor Tom found himself in a sparsely furnished dark blue room. There was an old mahogany table and a threadbare rug, but the weak winter sun was shining through the windows and for the first time Tom felt hopeful. The house wasn't perfect, with every comfort imaginable. It needed some work and that was something Tom could understand.
He flew down the stairs and once more made the maid shriek as he clattered into the servants' parlour.
"Mrs Kirkpatrick, could I trouble you for a pen and some paper? And do you have a list of all the staff and tenants on the estate?"
"Pen and paper I'll have brought up to you in a jiffy sir. The staff list should still be in the Butler's office, but I don't know how up to date it will be. I don't know if there is a list of tenants sir. If there was it might be in the Land Agent's cottage, but with him and Mr McGarry, the Butler, being away at war it's hard to say where any of it might be."
"Do you have the keys to the Butler's Office and the Land Agent's cottage?"
"Yes sir."
"Then we'll look for the staff list now, and you can update it with me. We'll try the Agent's cottage tomorrow."
Mrs Kirkpatrick chanced a look at Marion. Things were going to be very different with this young man running the place.
The house is not the result of my creativity and is completely based on Jenisch Haus in Hamburg - the one in the "Lighthouse" video.