Free Hinterlands by Isha Dehaven Page A

felt
something.   A deep craving that
seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once, and she couldn’t
identify it even if she had tried. Yet nevertheless, as Amelia watched the
rolling hills pass by she felt the subtle stirrings of happenstance, tugging
gently at her heart.
    As
for Lord Dunmoor, Amelia only knew what was spoken of him by her mother’s employer
in London. He was alleged to be a fair man, just, and fabulously wealthy.   He had spent the better portion of his
life fighting with the regiments in distant locales, earning commendation in
the Crimea. He was said to have a passion for horses, and was rumored to have
the most extensive stables in the north of England.   As the Carriage approached the house,
she could see just how expansive the stables actually were, long wooden
buildings stretching through the lush green glens, nestled in vast expanses
with beautiful horses running free across the grasses and purple nettles.   Here and there she spied servants, like
herself, corralling the horses or brushing their fine manes.   A large barn-like building that must
have been the serving quarters stood at the end of a long drive, and even this
structure seemed to have a loveliness about it, as if there had been great care
taken in its construction. But that was not to be Amelia’s place. She was to
work in the manor house itself, serving Lord Dunmoor and his guests
personally.   Her mother had trained
her for years to serve, just had as she her self had served, and Amelia had no
doubt that she was up for the job.
    The
manor house came into view and Amelia was flabbergasted.   It was simply the most beautiful home
that she had ever seen.   Large and
gray, it resembled a castle more than a house, with many turrets and wings that
extended skyward in myriad fashions. The drive curled back and forth in its
approach to the house, and Amelia found herself being seduced by the sheer
romance of the place, from its large windows which gazed out upon picturesque
ponds filled with geese, to its ivy-covered arches and cornices, obviously
molded by the hands of some master craftsman many years before. She wondered
what lay in store for her within those stony walls, and made up her mind that
she would do her best to serve the house well, and make her mother proud.
    The
carriage ground to a halt and an older white-haired gentleman opened the door
for her to get out.   He was wearing a
long camel-hair coat and extended his hand to help her step over a small
puddle.   Clutching her one canvas
bag tightly to her bosom and taking his hand, she stepped down from the
carriage, feeling her heels crunch into the soft gravel. She glanced up at her
new home, admiring the finely ornamented gables, and fine French style
panes.   It was the most elegant
looking place a girl from London could imagine. The view was far too brief
however, as she was quickly ushered into a side entrance by the older gentleman.
    “I
am Stephen Kendlewood, the Butler here at Hinterlands”, he piped in a thick
Irish brogue as he led her down a hallway bustling with servants, “…but while
you work for Lord Dunmoor you will call me Mr. Stephen. Is that understood Ms?”  
    “Kerrick.”
Amelia replied with a bow of her head, “Amelia Kerrick”.   They travelled past the massive kitchens
and down a number of labyrinthine hallways in the bowels of the house, turning
right and left before coming to a halt at the end of a particularly poorly lit
alcove. Mr. Stephen opened a well-used door and gestured inside.  
    “Well
Ms. Kerrick, you will be rooming here with Ms. Corzan and Ms. Enders.   Presently, they are turning out the beds
for the evening and aren’t here right now.   No matter, get yourself settled in and report to me in the kitchen in
about 30 minutes.   There’s no point
standing on ceremony here Ms. Kerrick.”
    The
room was tiny, cool and dark but was neat.   The walls were covered in peeling paint that had originally been a