Free Secret Of The Manor by Taylin Clavelli Page B

closing the doors behind him.
    Warren had visited many places of historical interest over the years. But he’d never been in one that was being actively lived in. The library wasn’t outsized and stately, nor was it the dimensions of a lounge. It was a comfortable size to hear someone on the other side of the room, and the ceiling was sufficiently high to hold an ornate, modern chandelier on a long chain and cable. Two of the walls were covered with rows of books, with an available ladder for those volumes out of reach. From a quick scan, many of the items on the higher shelves were leather bound in maroon and black. Lower down the colours and textures of the bindings changed to reflect more modern reading.
    Another wall featured mighty, elongated windows, which looked to have secondary glazing on the inside. The remaining wall contained a huge stone fireplace in the same colour as the outer walls of the manor. Only, instead of a log fire ablaze, there was a more modern electric heater in place, powerful enough to take the chill off the room.
    Underfoot was lush and soft, suggesting the carpet had some impressive underlay. It wasn’t until Warren looked down that he noticed the dark red base had a golden feather design woven into it.
    Warren was taken from his reverie by the headmaster-style voice of the man who’d spoken earlier. “Mr. Blake.”
    The man who addressed him looked to be in his sixties, with thinning grey hair and a moustache of the same colour. His outline suggested he was active, despite him walking with a limp and aided by a stick. He wore light trousers and a dark-blue buttoned blazer.
    “Er, yes, sir,” Warren replied with a start.
    “Please, come in and sit.”
    “Thank you.” Somehow, Warren felt he should bow before taking his seat. So he followed the butler’s example. He noticed the amused look between the men in the room. He shook both of their hands before settling into the chesterfield opposite them.
    The older of the two spoke first. “Mr. Blake. As you may have gathered, I am Oliver Walmsley, lord of the manor, and this is my son, James.”
    Warren was aware of the names and rank of the manor’s current inhabitants. Oliver Walmsley was head of the family. He and his wife Sophie, since deceased, had two sons and a daughter. First born was James, then Philippa, and lastly Alexander. Warren had done a brief Internet scan before sending the letter to remind himself of details he’d discovered during his initial research. He’d found an old family photo taken at Alexander’s christening. Upon closer study of the men in his company, the shape of their eyes was the same as those he’d seen before. Evidence for the manor being connected to his predicament was growing.
    Warren shuddered.
    James was a more youthful version of his father, with a head of thick, well-cut brown hair and sharp, but not pointed, features. His outline suggested he, too, kept active, maybe even visited a gym. He had long legs covered in quality trousers, and a shirt overlaid with a cashmere jumper. His long arms stretched over the back of the settee.
    “Good evening.” Warren fidgeted, uncomfortable at the scowl being sent his way by James.
    Oliver Walmsley leaned forward and balanced his forearms on his knees. “The only reason you are here, Mr. Blake, is because I’ve had your background checked and have found nothing to suggest you aren’t an honest man. From the miniscule information you have offered thus far, although intrigued, I am far from convinced you know anything my family can help you with.”
    As the lord of the manor returned to a more restful position, Warren didn’t miss the brief glance towards his son.
    Warren didn’t expect Oliver Walmsley to welcome him with open arms and volumes of information. Hell, Warren had doubts over what he’d experienced. Nevertheless, he’d requested an audience, and that’s what he’d got. If he was ever to get to the bottom of things he had to open his