When Catherine looked upon their new home, Rennold smiled at the glow on her face. She jumped out of the carriage before it stopped.
She had been startled by her husband's change in attitude when he first spoke to her about moving, positivity not being a common characteristic of him. She had still been hesitant about the idea. She had grown into the grooves of the place they had called home for so many years and did not like the idea of peeling away from what was familiar. But when she saw the animation beginning to light her husband's face as he spoke of the place and this new idea, she found it hard to argue with him.
Within a week the estate was fully furnished. There was a glass chandelier in the living room over a rococo table and chairs. In the parlor was a set that included a sofa, armchairs, and a side chair, upholstered with sumptuous fabrics and showcasing intricate woodwork. Gilded mirrors added elegance and opulence to the interior, frames adorned with intricate embellishments, and vibrantly colored Persian rugs rolled across the wood floors. There were end tables everywhere and each had a porcelain figurine: a gentleman in a blue suit, a lady gardener with a scythe, a raven in a glimmering nest, a young girl with a violin under her chin. Each was different and she would consistently rearrange them on tables and between rooms, decisions never quite official on what pleased her most.
Rennold sat in his study, sketchbook in his lap, looking like a child with colored pencils bunched in his fist. He looked out the window at Catherine in the garden beds. She was on her hands and knees, dress tucked into her boots, turning up the dry soil, ripping out the weeds, and applying fresh compost she had begun to create in a bucket by the garden. Her light hair fell over her slim shoulders, gold streaming down her flushed face, blue eyes lit with focus. He was so transfixed by the motions of his wife he almost did not hear the knock at their front door.
He was not sure who to expect but was surprised when he opened the door to a gorgeous young woman holding a basket. Her skin was so pale it almost looked blue, her smooth face glistening like marble, black hair falling down her slim body with silver pins holding back some of the large curls. Dark eyes stared at him; the color almost hard to distinguish from her pupils. Her red lips grew into a smile as she looked upon Rennold's surprised expression.
"Pardon me, are you Roger Rennold? Who moved in a few days ago?"
"That would be me."
"I just wanted to say welcome," the woman beamed at him. "I haven't had a neighbor in years. It's lovely to see a fresh face."
"Yes…" Rennold scratched his head, "you must be Alysia Fields. I don't mean to pry…but do you know why this house was empty for so long?" He had a strange feeling about the place the day they moved in. No real change from the first time he saw the estate, but there was an irritation that was beginning to nag at him as he began to lay out his days in an open, unfamiliar land.
Alysia gave a small shrug, the sleeve of her dress drooping over her slim shoulder. He found himself staring at the smooth shape of her collarbone.
"Lord Masterson liked to keep lots of things to himself. Too bad about his passing, but the secrets that he kept in this house never surfaced, even after his death. His children did not know what he did, still owning this place." The woman delicately ran her fingers down the wood frame of the door, looking first at the surface, then to Rennold, who stood watching her intently.
"Roger?" came Catherine's voice from behind him. "Who is at the door?"
Alysia dropped her hand from the door frame and waved it friendly at Catherine. "Greetings Lady Rennold! My name is Alysia Field, I'm your new neighbor."
"Oh! It's lovely to meet you, Lady Field."
"Alysia is fine, darling. I must say I love what you've done with the place. It looks beautiful. You certainly have a good eye. I just came to give you these," said Alysia as she thrust the basket into Rennold's arms. "Just a few housewarming treats. Feel free to stop by any time. I'd be happy to receive you, and I always have something baking in the oven or boiling on the stove."
"That's very kind of you, Alysia. Would you like to come in?" asked Catherine, and Rennold turned around to shoot a glare at her.
"Thank you, but I cannot stay." Her eyes went directly to Rennold. "But I'm sure I'll see you around."
Alysia turned and walked off the front porch, her black hair swishing behind her and Rennold was ashamed he watched her body move through her dress as she walked away.
"She seemed nice," said Catherine as she took the basket from Rennold.
"I don't know…"
"What?"
"She seems a little…odd. What is a woman like her living by herself out here?"
Catherine shrugged. "Woman can be independent."
Rennold watched through the dining room windows as Alysia walked down the road. Catherine did not notice his gaze, her attention set on the floral centerpiece she had created for the table.