After a precautionary night at the hospital, Caity was allowed to return home with the specialist's wary approval for travel. Plans were swiftly made to leave for the country as soon as the school term was over—Caity insisted upon it. She could handle a day's worth of classes, though she was usually tired in the evenings. Dr. Miller put his foot down, however, by limiting the park outings considerably. Caity didn't take well to her confinement, and spent as much time as weather allowed out in the back garden, which had once been her mother's joy. She also delighted in news from Peter's family, as Susan returned from America and Mrs. Pevensie began arrangements on a house not far from the Millers'. A distant relative had decided a change of scene was in order.
Summer came at long last. Mrs. Vincent, the sprightly widow next door, agreed to care for the house while the Millers and Peter prepared for an extended stay at Professor Kirke's estate. The old man was more than happy to accommodate them. Their journey proved uneventful, though Caity slept for a fair bit of the train ride. Arriving at the homely little platform brought a flood of memories for Peter.
"How close is the house?" Caity asked. She was excited about the trip, but weariness had become evident in her voice.
"Not far," said Peter. "Just as soon as…ah, here she is now."
A hawk-featured woman appeared around the corner, driving a horse-drawn cart.
"Mrs. Macready, this is Dr. Miller and his daughter, Caity," Peter announced. "They're the friends I wrote about."
Mrs. Macready nodded curtly, and gestured at the back of the cart. Once they were off again, Peter covered Caity's eyes.
"I want it to be a surprise."
Caity waited impatiently as they bumped and bounced along for some time. She was just about to ask how much longer, when Peter's hands finally released her. Her mouth fell open at the sight that met her eyes. The huge manor loomed behind the trees, surrounded by green, equally-huge grounds. Everything was immaculately kept, and yet held a sense of wildness about it. To top it off, a whimsical, white-haired man in a sweater and spectacles was waiting on the stairs.
"Professor," Peter greeted, climbing down and shaking the man's hand.
"Peter, my dear boy," replied the Professor. He was positively beaming with excitement. "These are your friends, I presume?"
"Yes." Peter helped Caity climbed down, then proceeded to take the luggage handed to him by her father. "This is Dr. Miller and his daughter, Caity. Everyone, this is Professor Kirke."
"Pleasure to meet you, pleasure to meet you," said the Professor, shaking hands all around. "So glad you could come. I daresay the house has been too quiet without you children. That will be all, Mrs. Macready, thank you. Come along now, I'll show you all inside."
Mrs. Macready looked scandalized, but she did as she was told.
They were shown to their rooms first, so they could drop off their luggage. Caity's was a spacious first floor accommodation that Peter hadn't known existed, while the other guest rooms were still upstairs. Then Professor Kirke gave them all a personal tour.
"And this is one of my favorite places in the house," he said as they entered a room filled with old books, a suit of armor, and beautiful stained-glass windows. "Orderly and serene, though it has seen less quiet times in the past." His eyes tinkled over their spectacles at Peter, who dropped his own gaze sheepishly.
"We hit a cricket ball up here once," he muttered when the Professor wouldn't look away. "It broke the window and toppled the armor."
"Which was kindly left unpunished," the Professor finished.
"What's up there?" asked Caity as they walked past a narrow flight of stairs.
"Oh, just a couple more musty rooms with nothing special in them," the Professor blustered, still watching Peter. The boy was eyeing the stairs with a faraway look. Caity herself couldn't help but feel the pull of curiosity to the mysterious upper level.
The tour ended in the dining room just in time for supper. Caity found she like the old Professor very much, and, surprisingly, so did her father. He took up the offer of brandy and a pipe on the terrace, leaving Peter and Caity to themselves.
"So what's really up there?" she asked hopefully. Despite her weariness from the journey and walking about the house, a strange excitement was threatening to bubble over in her chest.
Peter's boyish grin returned. "Come on." Leading Caity by the hand, he navigated the maze of halls, rooms, and stairs until they made it to the flight in question. The first door was ignored completely; Peter opened the second one.
Inside was completely bare, except for the huge, handsomely carved wardrobe at the far end.
"A magnificent work of art. You don't really see the likes of it anymore, now with everything made on assembly lines," Caity breathed. "But if you don't mind my asking, is this all?"
"Yes." Peter couldn't quite mask his disappointment quick enough. "I like the story that goes with it, though…the Professor told us, and it's played out in the carvings…" They sat down on the dusty floor, and he proceeded to tell Caity about a boy whose uncle was a magician, a queen from another world, and how a place called Narnia was born.
Caity knew it could only be a story; there was no such thing as magic and traveling to other worlds. And yet, the story reawakened childhood imagination she thought she'd lost.
"It sounds like a lovely place to live," she mused after Peter had finished. "And—what did you call him—Aslan, I would like to have met him, if he were real. A talking, gentleman of a lion…"
"Sometimes he does seem real, when you're out on the grounds on a clear summer's day," Peter said quietly. Caity had the slightest impression that those were not the exact words he wanted to say, but was distracted by the dark scene outside the window.
"Oh it must be terribly late by now! We really should go to bed."
They crept carefully through the house until they came to Caity's door. Peter nodded his goodnight and started off for his own room.
"Peter?" Caity whispered. The boy stopped and turned. "I was just wondering, do you think we could arrange a picnic on the grounds tomorrow? Your story has me wanting to explore ever so badly."
Peter thought for a moment, then nodded, smiling warmly. "I think one is in order, after spending nearly all of today indoors. There's so much to show you. But first, sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Peter."
But luck was not as keen to help. Caity awoke the next morning feeling stiff and achy, so her father requested that she stay at the house, to her displeasure. So she and Peter tried to remain occupied first with the travel reading they had brought, then with exploring the Professor's expansive collection. Much of the library was antique—Peter found a book with a publishing date of 1792. It was almost a journey in its own right to examine the pages, imaging who all must have done so before. However, it could only hold their fascination for so long, and as Caity began to feel better, a steady rain set in.
"Ooo, we'll never be able to go out at this rate," she groaned.
"If I weren't old enough to know better, I'd suggest something like hide-and-seek. This house is excellent for it."
Caity fought down a laugh as she looked at Peter. "Hide-and-seek?"
"Silly, I know. Lucy would ask to play all the time. I wouldn't expect you to want—"
"Well, why not?'
Peter did a double-take. "Sorry?"
"It's just the two of us, with Father and the Professor getting on so nicely. I think a session of hide-and-seek would be fun."
So they spent the morning hiding and seeking in turns, to great effect. Peter was amazed at some of the spaces Caity got herself into. In one case, she managed to climb on top of the Narnia wardrobe—and then couldn't get down. She was very good at picking an obscure variety of hiding spots, beating Peter easily. By lunchtime, both were dirty, disheveled, and in much higher spirits than before.
"What have you been up to?" Dr. miller asked, an amused expression on his face. Peter and Caity could only barely contain their laughter as they went to wash up.