After we finished tea, Mrs Marsh announced that she would presently show me to my room.
"It is on the far-side wing of the floor above," she said, as she handed me back my robe, "but we must take the stairs. No-one excepting Milord can Apparate within the house or gate's perimeter—not even his son. However, you will soon learn your way around."
I followed her out of her parlour and gasped with dismay as I realised my trunk, reticule and bonnet were nowhere to be seen. Before I could exclaim on their disappearance, the housekeeper informed me of their whereabouts. "Your things have already been taken to your room, Miss Granger. I left instructions with the house-elves to assist with your luggage whenever it arrived."
"By house-elves!" I asked, my curiosity most piqued by the mention of these creatures of which I had only ever beheld the briefest glimpse. "Then there is more than one belonging to this family?"
"There are several," she replied, locking her door with a concise flick of her wand, and beckoning me to follow her around the corner, leading down another long corridor. "Though you will rarely see them—indeed they are not fit to be seen, ugly, ragged little beasts..." Her shoulders shrugged, as if the mere idea of them caused her disgust. "But, of course, they have their uses. They are not bound by the magic which prevents us mages from Apparating, and so they may fetch and carry things about which do not call for elegant service."
I made no reply, but privately I felt a little repulsed by her tone of contempt as she spoke of these elusive magical beings, for which I had always felt something of a strange sympathy and even affinity. I hoped one day to speak with one, although I knew that, as an outsider, I would have little reason to do so.
About half-way along the corridor we passed two doors standing opposite each other; Mrs Marsh told me that one lead into the baking room and the other into the kitchen-garden courtyard which I had seen from the window of her own room. Soon we approached the end, coming to a door which opened to another of Mrs Marsh's deft wand-movements. "And this is the Main Hall, Miss Granger," she announced as we crossed the threshold.
I stopped short with a cry of wonder, transfixed to the spot with utter amazement.
Never in my life had I beheld such magnificence! Every surface seemed to gleam with luxury and splendour, from the chequered marble floor underfoot, to the heavy, many-tiered chandelier suspended from the ceiling far, far above. An enormous staircase dominated the centre of the room, set between twin balusters of intricately-scrolled mahogany, and carpeted with a dark-green Kashan runner of intricate design. The stairs lead up to a 'mezzanine' from which point it divided in twain and continued up in opposite directions, carrying one onto the balcony of floor above.
"Splendid, is it not?" Mrs Marsh's voice beside me brought me out of my awe-struck paralysis.
"I...I've never seen anything so grand," I replied, hardly knowing where next to look—at the beautiful paintings entirely covering one wall; or the back panels of carved oak, depicting famous hunting scenes, betwixt which a huge door was set; or the two open archways flanking the stairway, promising to lead to a lighter, airier room—the vestibule, I presumed.
"The late Lady Malfoy did much to improve the interior," the housekeeper continued, evidently pleased by my astonishment. "It used to be quite as gloomy and gothic inside as out; but as you see, everything has been refurbished in the modern style." She sighed sadly, gazing about as if indulging a fond memory, and her voice and expression softened as again she spoke. "Milady had the most exquisite taste and natural elegance, matched only by the perfection of her beauty...But the brightest candles always extinguish the soonest."
Not having known the lady of whom she spoke, I could only nod in silent sympathy, and though I should have liked to ask how she had met her early demise, my discretion kept me in check.
At length the housekeeper stirred and moved to the foot of the staircase. "Come, Miss Granger," she said, recovering her usual business-like tone, "there is much more to show you on our way."
I hurried after her, alighting upon the grand staircase with another pang of insecurity, wondering for the umpteenth time how I—I, Hermione Jean Granger, orphan muggle-born—had come to be in such a place.
Mrs Marsh paused on the mezzanine, waiting for me to catch up. Then she gestured to the left-leading stairway. "There's no need for me to acquaint you with that part of the house," she said, "for it only leads only to the Guest Suite, and to some of the family bedrooms." She spoke lightly, but I sensed something in her tone, harking back to her earlier words of warning.
"Does the family have guests very often?" I asked, wishing to deflect from these unspoken implication.
"Oh, yes; quite regularly," Mrs Marsh replied. "There is a small party of visitors now: the Lord and Lady Greengrass with their two daughters." Then, seeing the look of worry on my face, she added with a smile, "However, they depart tomorrow and you won't be required to meet them."—For which I was exceedingly relieved.
I followed the housekeeper up the right-leading flight of stairs, my excitement growing with each step. We gained the landing, and I was surprised to be met at the top with a row of arched windows which looked down onto a courtyard below—not the kitchen-garden that I had seen in the servant's wing, but a beautiful rose-garden encircled by narrow gravel pathways and hedge-rows shaped into intricate, geometric patterns, in the centre of which stood a white 'courting bench' of ornately wrought iron.
"That is the Rose Courtyard," Mrs Marsh told me. "It contains some of the rarest specimens in the world...another legacy of My dear Lady." Then, pointing out two tall windows on the opposite side, she added, "You may see that your room has a direct view down upon it."
I swallowed down sigh of disappointment. So I was not to have an ocean-view, after all...
Mrs Marsh then directed my attention to a closed door on the adjacent wall. "That room is Milord's personal office," she told me. "You may be required to report there from time to time, should he wish to speak with you about your duties."
I cast an alarmed glance at the imposing slab of polished wood, wondering what lay behind it—could it be a room crammed with dark objects and forbidden books? But then I chided myself for imagining something so unlikely. Even if the rumours of Lord Malfoy's proclivity for the Dark Arts proved true, surely he wouldn't display them in his office.
Mrs Marsh now moved past me, beckoning me to follow her along the landing, the courtyard on one side of us and the great staircase on the other. At the end of the landing we reached a wooden balcony overlooking the Main Hall, off which a new corridor branched.
"Here is the way to—" Mrs Marsh stopped mid-sentence, her brow furrowing, and for a moment I wondered if she were suffering a sudden pain. However, in the next moment, she withdrew a small compass-like instrument from a chain concealed in her bodice, which appeared to vibrate whilst emitting a high ringing sound, like a tiny chiming bell.
"You must excuse me, Miss Granger," said she, having glanced at the tiny object and passed her fingers over it, silencing it. "I am summoned by Milord. Will you stay here until I return, please? I shan't be long, and if I am detained I will send a maid to show you to your quarters."
"Of course, ma'am," I said, surprised by this news, since I had so recently seen 'Milord' out and about in his coach.
"You may wait in this room," she said, swiftly moving over to, and opening, a door in the balcony panelling which I had not even noticed. "There are seats, and a fine prospect of the countryside to enjoy." So saying, the lady hastened away back down the stairs, and I fancied I could hear voices coming somewhere from that direction.
Afraid to be caught loitering by a passing servant or family member, I timidly stepped into the chamber.
It was a spacious room, wide rather than long, decorated in a charmingly baroque style. Three windows framed the outside panorama, and, recognising the view of chequered fields and forest, and the odd tower-like house belonging to Squire Lovegood, I was at last able to orientate myself.
Not daring to wander too far into the chamber, lest Mrs Marsh suddenly appear and think me unduly curious, I sank down into the closest seat to await her return. It with a large 'bergère' armchair, with such high arm-rests that I felt almost swallowed up by apricot watered-silk.
I had not been sitting for half a minute when I was alarmed by a sudden disturbance coming behind a door at the far-end of the room. A moment later the door swung open, and two figures—a handsome young gentle-wizard, expensively (though somewhat foppishly) attired, and an alluring young witch, dressed in the latest Paris fashions—burst through in a tumult of masculine whoops and feminine giggles.
To my horror, the pair began to rush and tumble about the room in a shockingly immodest manner, seemingly engaged in a game of "Catch And Kiss". Despite her many little screams of protest, the young lady received her paramour's salutations with as much enthusiasm as he delivered them.
I was certain that the wizard must be Lord Malfoy's son, Master Draco, for indeed he had the same sharp, high-bred features of the wizard in the coach (except of a finer, more epicene stamp) and the same white-blond hair, though cropped rakishly short.
I felt I ought to make my presence known, and yet to do so seemed utterly impossible. I dared not reach for my wand to attempt a Disillusioning charm, lest the action itself alert their attention to me. Frozen in my seat, I sat in an agony of anticipation, awaiting certain discovery, as the pair advanced closer and closer to the seat in which I cowered.
However, this was prevented by the young man proceeding to trap and pull his sweetheart forcibly down upon a 'méridienne' chaise-longue, kissing her with such violent passion that I feared he might actually hurt her. Indeed, I heard the lady begging him to stop, lest they be discovered, to which the careless rake merely laughed and declared his preference for the "danger of being caught."
I had almost decided to intervene on behalf of the lady, when I was stopped by the sound of her voice, half-angry, half-laughing, but by no means distressed.
"Unhand me at once, Sir!" she cried, as her attacker pressed his avaricious lips now to her heaving bosom. "Or I swear I shall tell my darling little sister about your faithless behaviour!"
"The devil you will," replied he, "unless you wish me to enlighten your fiancé about yours."
The witch laughed tauntingly. "That would be impolitic, since he's the better dueller."
"T'would be your own loss," he wickedly replied, "since I'm the better lover."
It was all I could do to stifle my gasp at such wanton impropriety—nay, such degeneracy. But my indignation soon turned to alarm as I suddenly heard the brisk steps of Mrs Marsh treading across the wooden balcony.
In something like a madness of anxiety, hardly knowing what I was about, I sprang from my seat and rushed over to the entangled couple, warning them in an urgent hiss that the housekeeper approached.
The wizard, taken thus by surprise, lost hold of his captured prey, who wriggled out of his embrace and fled from the room the way she had entered.
A surly scowl crossed the features of the young man, who jumped up and rounded on me, looking as if he should like to strike me for my interruption of his amorous sport. But before either he or I could speak, Mrs Marsh emerged in the doorway.
"Ah, Master Draco!" she exclaimed, quickly joining us in the centre of the room. Her voice was pleasantly polite, but I was knew her sharp glance must observe his extremely-rumpled and aggravated appearance and my own manifest discomposure. However, with deferent discretion, she only said, "I see you have met Miss Granger, Sir."
The wizard continued to glare balefully at me. "Through no design of my own, I assure you," he said, discourteously implying that it had been mine.
"She is Miss Clarastella's new governess, Sir," the gentle-witch supplied.
At this, the young man's expression changed, transforming from anger, to momentary surprise, settling into a sneering amusement. "Is she?" he said, bending a little forward, as if nearly to make a bow, but in actuality to quiz my appearance, inspecting at his leisure my practical poplin dress and brown robe, my tightly-plaited hair and plain features.
Perhaps I ought to have been intimidated by him—certainly, it seemed as if he intended I should—but his rudeness served only to inspire me with mutual contempt. Despite his being the first aristocrat of my acquaintance, and a handsome young wizard at that, I thought him an insufferable churl and a gross libertine. And so, instead of quailing before his stare, I calmly returned it.
Something of these thoughts must have expressed themselves in my eyes, for his own narrowed and the petulant scowl returned.
"What a drab little dormouse it is!" he declared, straightening up with a sniff. "Where did you manage to dig her up, Marsh?"
Without waiting for a reply (for which there really could be none) the young man turned on his heels and stalked out of the room, slamming it after him with such ill-grace that I turned away to hide an amused smile from Mrs Marsh.
She, supposing me extremely offended, murmured, "Miss Granger, though it is not my place to apologise for the words or actions of those whom I serve, I will mention that the young master has somewhat of a...complex nature and volatile temperament. Rest assured, he behaves thus to everyone—excepting, of course, his father. ...However, we must make allowances for his being young, and for having lost a parent so early."
"Indeed," I murmured. I deigned not to remark that I, who was surely younger and had lost both my parents, was not given to such insolent behaviour or immoral conduct. As it appeared to me, the young man had been afforded far too many 'allowances' than was good for him.
Following Mrs Marsh out of the room, I soon recovered my excitement as she informed me that the corridor branching off from the balcony led directly to the nursery wing, which included my own quarters.
"Your chamber has been very comfortably fitted up," she told me as we walked down the long, but well-lit, stone hallway. "It is a spacious boudoir, known as the Rose Room, for its pretty view onto the courtyard."
Soon we came to the end of the stone corridor, meeting with a wider hallway sumptuously appointed with wooden panelling and red carpets, and warmly lit by a surplus of lamps in brightly-polished sconces.
"The nursery is there," the housekeeper gestured to a large door at the far end of the hallway. Then she pointed out a door opposite us, with panels prettily carved with snowdrops, sea-thrifts and asters. "And that is Miss Clarastella's room," she said. "She is with her Aunt today, but you will meet her tomorrow." A few more steps brought us outside another door, this one carved with roses. "And now we are come to your chamber, Miss Granger."
Stepping over the threshold, I found myself standing inside a most elegant room. It was large, modern and airy, letting in a good deal of light through the tall windows, and decorated in a pleasing palette of pastel colours, appointed with tasteful furniture and graceful accessories.
My trunk, reticule and bonnet sat at the end of a large canopy bed, spread with a pale-green quilt embroidered with pink roses, and surrounded by gauzy pale curtains in a matching design. Compared with my tiny, dark, sparsely-furnished bedroom at my Aunt's house, it seemed like something from a fairy-tale dream.
"Oh! But how charming!" I exclaimed admiringly, almost able to forget my disappointment that there was not a sea-view.
Mrs Marsh smiled. "I think it one of the pleasantest rooms in the house," she agreed. "Another of My Lady's personal projects. I trust you will be very comfortable here."
"I am sure I shall," I replied, moving over to the window to look down upon the Rose Courtyard from the opposite direction than I had previously glimpsed it from the landing of the Main Hall.
"Well, you have only to ring, if there is something wanting." She showed me a bell attached to a long velvet rope, hanging near the bed. "A maid will be summoned if you pull that rope," she said.
"A...human maid?" I asked tentatively, wondering if I might get my chance to speak to a house-elf after all.
"Of course," Mrs Marsh replied quite sternly, as if I had broached a vulgar subject. "All our maids are human, Miss Granger; the elves are not to be counted among the staff. They take directions only from the Master and, by his permission, from myself."
"I'm sorry," I said, blushing for my ignorance. "I know so very little about how a grand house such as this operates."
The housekeeper nodded, her expression softening at my embarrassment. "You will learn," she said. "I will assist you wherever possible, although in truth I have not many hours at my own disposal. But if you have any questions or concerns you may usually find me in my parlour."
"Thank you, ma'am," I replied. "That is most kind."
"You may take the rest of today to settle in," she continued. "All the rooms in the nursery wing, excepting Miss Clarastella's, are open and available for your use. There is a comfortable sitting room attached to the nursery. Dinner will be brought to your room at six this evening, and breakfast tomorrow at seven. Your duties will begin in the nursery at nine o'clock, but you may wish to arrive early and look through some of Miss Clarastella's lessons, and acquaint yourself with contents of the nursery before you meet her."
"I will be sure to."
"Does everything so far appear to your satisfaction?"
"Perfectly, ma'am."
Once again, a tinkling bell chimed from within the confines of her bodice, and the housekeeper hurriedly withdrew the little golden instrument and silenced it. "I must leave you again," she said. "But you know where you may find me, if you encounter any difficulties—although I do not anticipate that you will."
We curtseyed, and the housekeeper moved to the door. Pausing on the threshold, she turned and said, "Ah; just one last thing, Miss Granger. I would advise you at this stage to keep private the particulars of your...heritage. At present, only myself and My Lord know that you are muggle-born, and it is perhaps for the better to keep it that way." She curtseyed once more and added an affable, "Good day!" before she swept from the room in a rustle of silk.
I wandered over to the bed and sank slowly down upon its yielding depths.
My hands felt oddly cold and my face very hot. A strange feeling had arisen within me at Mrs Marsh's parting words, a kind of wounded shame and acute self-disgust. So...my tainted blood must be kept secret, "for the better." It was better that no-one else knew my disgraceful lineage. No-one, but Mrs Marsh...and the man of the silver eyes and cruel reputation. My new master.
I gazed at the wall for some time, until I was brought out of my reverie by a tap at the door, followed by a rustle of paper as a small envelope flittered beneath the doorway and settled upon my lap. I opened it up and discovered a piece of stiff card, upon which was written a brief message, in an elegant and unmistakably-masculine hand.
"Lord Malfoy desires an interview with Miss Granger in his office, at her earliest convenience."