Westgate Manor

Ch. 1 "Return to Westgate Manor"

                                         Ch. 1             “Return to Westgate Manor”

1823- Guildford

Abigail Greenwood stepped out of the carriage and instantly froze in place, silently staring at the massive building before her. It was just as she remembered it; every stone. This was the place where her life had come together, and in one swoop had been torn apart.

“Come Carrot,” Iona urged, picking up her gray embroidered skirts and walking past her.

Abigail watched as Iona breezed through the black iron gates encompassing the property, reached the top steps, and unlocked the door to the main entrance before disappearing into the darkness inside. Any other person would probably take notice of the large trees in front of the place that offered a comfortable shade, or the nicely manicured bushes that added to the picturesque scene. They might be in awe of its stature, of the seeming fortitude and power that seemed to emanate from the walls. Yet, when Abigail saw it again, the beauty of it all simply escaped her notice.

Quick and steady footsteps sounded on the walkway behind her, only to fall silent at her side. She turned, looking at her companion. Aunt Beatrice stood; her eyes inspected the building and their surroundings. Her brown hair was swept back in a spiral bun. Gray hairs streaked the top of her head; but were currently hidden by a blue velvet hat which matched her traveling gown.

“I imagine it must be hard to be back here…at this sad place,” Beatrice said, finally turning to look up at her niece.

Abigail nodded. “Yes. I find that it holds both happy and sad memories for me. Unfortunately, I feel as if the latter prevails at the moment.”

Beatrice took hold of her niece’s hand and squeezed it. “Find your relief and joy in the realization that we are home. I know that I shall be forever grateful for your kindness in taking me in,” she said, smiling gently.

Abigail returned the gesture and faintly shook her head, causing her dark auburn hair to swing across her back in the process. Her aunt was fooling no one. Although Abigail did not doubt that her aunt wanted her company, she was not under the illusion that she had saved her from anything. Aunt Beatrice was well-settled in Kent; her home, though not extravagant, was modest and welcoming. Yet, she gave it up to be near Abigail, who was more than happy to have her company. Now that she was ten and nine, and there were no other living relatives besides her aunt, she was finally able to take possession of the place her father had bought years before.

“Are you ready to go inside and reclaim your room?” her aunt asked hopefully, endeavoring to cheer her up.

Not really, no. Plastering a half-hearted smile on her face, Abigail nodded.  Aunt Beatrice immediately linked arms with her and the two walked through the white massive double doors.

“What room would you have me take, dear?”

Abigail shrugged, distracted by memories of the place as she drank in her surroundings. “Whatever room pleases you, aunt.”

Beatrice nodded; Abigail smiled at her back as she poked her head inside various rooms, subjecting them to her calculating gaze.

A light, almost rhythmic, snapping noise indicated that Iona was removing sheets from the couches, tables, and other furniture throughout the place. The curtains had already been opened as well.

After slowly ascending the carpeted staircase, Abigail walked inside her old room and rubbed her gloved hands together before walking towards an old blue trunk at the far end of the bedroom.