Part 23 (1/2)
”While Dornleigh has been endured, not loved. Where would you make changes?”
She looked back at the house, which loomed across the horizon. ”I'd put in climbing vines to soften all those hard edges. It will take time for them to grow, but eventually they would make the house more welcoming.”
”Ivy. What a simple solution.” He studied the gray stone structure. ”What else?”
”Sharp edges and angles are disruptive. In particular, the driveway runs straight from the entry gate to Dornleigh's front entrance. That is a 'poison arrow,' and it strikes to the heart of the house.” She gave him a slanting glance, wondering if he would balk at her advice. ”Change the course of the drive so it curves gently in front of the house.”
He thought about it. ”It would be hard to move the lower part of the drive because it runs between the rows of chestnuts, but the upper part can be curved without much trouble, and I think it will look better. Would that be good enough?”
She nodded, once more impressed at his flexibility. ”Those changes would help the exterior greatly. Indoors, much can be done with the arrangement of furniture and changes in colors and draperies. Almost anything would be an improvement.”
”Can I follow you around and ask questions?”
She almost smiled. He was definitely recovering some of his interest in life. ”As you wish. Just remember that I don't have all the answers.” If nothing else, when she was gone Kyle would be left with a happier house.
Leading her under a trellised arch of climbing roses, the vines winter-barren, he asked, ”What about this little Greek temple? It's called a folly, and was a favorite retreat for Dom and me.”
She nodded approvingly as she stepped into the gra.s.sy clearing. ”Very nice as it is. One can feel the good chi.”
He was beginning to understand the correlation of good chi with a pleasant, appealing environment. What a treasure Troth was. Too much had happened to ever recover the closeness they'd shared on the journey to Hoshan; he could feel the barriers she'd put up. But at least they were now civil with each other. Friendly, even.
As they walked toward the circular temple, a tiny creature raced out and ran across Troth's feet. Her face lit up and she knelt, waggling her fingers. ”A kitten! Will you come to me, little one?”
It was a fat-tailed little beast, mostly gray with a white bib, paws, and whiskers. When it charged Troth playfully, she scooped it into her hands. ”What a darling! Do you know where this kitten is from?”
”The stables. I've seen her playing there with her brothers and sisters. She's the friendliest of her litter. Adventurous, too, to come this far.”
The kitten scrambled up Troth's sleeve and came to rest on her shoulder, small white whiskers quivering with curiosity. Troth scratched between the pointed ears. ”We had a dog when I lived in Macao. I'm not sure what happened to him when I left and the household was closed down, but I've always feared that he ended up in a cooking pot.”
Kyle shuddered. He knew the Chinese ate dog meat, and logically it wasn't that different from eating rabbits or pigeons, but he was too English not to find the thought abhorrent. ”Perhaps your dog ended up guarding another house.”
”I hope so. Watchdogs were treated well because they were useful. I wanted a pet at Chenqua's, but it was impossible to keep anything other than a cricket or a small bird, which was not what I wanted.”
Kyle swallowed as he watched the unconscious sensuality in the way she rubbed her cheek against the soft fur. ”You can have this kitten. She's old enough to leave her mother, and I'm sure the stable has cats to spare.”
Her face briefly glowed with the bright pleasure he remembered from the journey to Hoshan. ”Oh, Kyle, can I?”
”I suspect that Malloy, the head groom, will thank you for taking a kitten off his hands.” He'd gladly shower Troth with diamonds, but if a small, living gift could produce such a smile, she could have every kitten in the kingdom.
”Do you love that sofa?” Troth asked.
Kyle contemplated the item in question, a relic of the so-called Egyptian style of several decades earlier. The sofa had been in the morning room as long as he could remember, and he'd accepted it as an unalterable fact of life. ”I do not love that sofa. In fact, I dislike it excessively. The crocodile feet have a certain peculiar charm, but it's horribly uncomfortable, and that's a really vile shade of green.”
”Then out it goes.” Troth gestured to a pair of footmen, who dutifully lifted the sofa and lumbered out of the room with it.
Over the past fortnight, she had worked her way through the main rooms of the house, following several basic feng shui principles: a room should contain nothing broken, no clutter, and no object that didn't please the residents.
In the two centuries since Dornleigh had been built, it had acquired a great deal of clutter. Troth cut a steely-eyed swath through clumps of old furniture, bad paintings, horribly worn rugs, and other objects that had acc.u.mulated over the decades. Kyle followed in her wake, pa.s.sing judgment on things she wanted to exile. If he was attached to a particular item, she would allow it to stay, but he found that when she questioned something, it was probably expendable.
Troth's treatment of the estate office had sealed his belief in feng shui. The small room contained all of the agricultural texts and account books, but Kyle had always hated the place. He spent time there only when estate management work couldn't be avoided.
After a gimlet survey, Troth had the desk moved so that whoever used it no longer had his back turned to the door. As soon as Kyle sat behind the desk in its new position, he realized how he'd disliked the feeling that someone could stealthily enter behind him when he was working.
Troth made a number of lesser changes, including the removal of a couple of spindly chairs and an unused table, and hanging a landscape painting he'd always liked. Kyle no longer had to force himself to do estate work.
Most of the ground floor had similarly benefited from her changes, and a new driveway was being laid out. It would take longer to implement her other suggestions, such as the ivy and new paint and wallpaper and draperies in several rooms, but he already felt more comfortable at Dornleigh than he ever had in the past.
The feng shui process made him think differently about the house he'd grown up in. He'd always been very aware that he was merely one in a long line of Renbournes. Nominally the house and estate would be his someday, but he was only a guardian whose job was to care for his heritage and leave it in good shape for his heir. The knowledge had always made him chafe at the restrictions that came with his inheritance.
Now Troth's changes made him recognize how much he could reshape his environment. Though his patrimony was still a sacred charge, the weight of Dornleigh lessened in his mind. As furniture and art and curiosities he'd sent back from his travels became part of the house's new look, he began to enjoy his home. Amazing.
Troth herself was a mixed blessing. He craved her company, and they spent a good part of each day together, starting with chi exercises in the garden or a ride across the estate, then her feng shui work. In most ways she was an easy and stimulating companion, interested in everything and full of fascinating information from her own background.
But there was a painful lack of anything personal between them. Though Troth was always amiable, she revealed none of her private thoughts.
Worse, she frequently mentioned the time remaining before the end of their handfast. The constant reminder was a sword of Damocles poised over his head.
”Smith, place that against the wall. What do you think, my lord?”
Called back to the present, Kyle studied the circular gilt-framed mirror that a footman was holding in place. ”Hang away. Interesting how the mirror brightens the area and makes it seem larger. More alive. Where did you find this? I don't recall ever seeing it before.”
”In the attics. There is enough furniture there to redecorate the house twice over.” She regarded him thoughtfully. ”It's time to do your bedroom.”
He blinked, startled. ”Is that necessary?”
”Yes.” Without further discussion, she swept from the morning room and up the stairs to his bedroom.
By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in the middle of his room, scanning the area with narrowed eyes.
”Since this is your private area, it needs careful adjustment to keep your energy in harmony,” she said briskly. ”With that huge globe in your travel sector, of course you were always panting to run off. Worse, the bed is in the coffin position and must be changed immediately. No wonder you have not yet recovered fully.”
”Coffin position?” He regarded the canopied bed on the opposite wall, its ma.s.sive carved footboard jutting toward the door.
”Corpses are laid out with their feet facing the door before a funeral. Good for the dead, very bad for the living.” She consulted the compa.s.s she had commandeered for feng shui use. ”For your best rest, the bed needs to be moved to that wall.”
”The room has always been arranged this way.”
Her brows arched. ”And you always wanted to leave, didn't you? Your instincts were correct.”
He thought of the ghastly prison nightmares that still haunted him. If sleeping differently might lessen them, it was worth trying. ”Very well, s.h.i.+ft away.”
”You'll sleep better, feel better.”
Silhouetted against the window, Troth was an entrancing sight in her European gowns. She wore her skirts with grace and enticing sensuality, reveling in her freedom to be a woman. He had a swift, disorienting vision of scooping her onto the bed and making love to her.
His strength was definitely coming back.