But what she noticed the most was his elegance, the casual run of his hand through his hair. His posture wasn’t like that of other writers. His had been taught as a child. It came from someone close, probably his mother, poking him between his shoulder blades whenever he slouched.
He looked like he could sit and eat oysters at Bentley’s in London with a glass of Laurent-Perrier with Serena any day of the week, unlike her the time Serena had taken her and told Eve not to make silly faces when she swallowed her first oyster. Eve couldn’t have said to Serena the only oysters in her house came in a can and had the word ‘smoked’ on the wrapper, and her dad liked to eat them on toast while she and her mum complained about the smell. Instead, she swallowed them whole, like her pride when working with Serena.
He seemed surprised by her presence, as though he was expecting someone else and had received a lesser version. And he was so rude it nearly took her breath away. The entitlement and privilege dripped from him and the assumption that she wasn’t ready to work goaded her. As though she was there for some sort of holiday. The audacity of this man was astonishing. She had fumed as she followed Hilditch to her bedroom. She would probably be put in the maid’s room at the top of the house, with a single bed and a washbasin, knowing Edward Priest for the short moment she had.
Hilditch guided her through the house, which seemed to go on forever. There was a maze of corridors and separate staircases and a lot of portraits of stern-looking people in various costumes through the ages.
Her room was a long way from the entrance, she noted as Hilditch finally stopped at a large oak door.
‘This is you,’ she said and opened it to reveal Eve’s quarters. She stepped inside with Eve following her.
The room was romantic, beautiful, dreamy and extremely cold.
Wood-panelled walls greeted her with a large, canopied bed draped in raspberry damask with gold tassels tied at end corners. The bed was made of a dark wood with barley twist posts and small carved pinecones on each. The top of the canopy was lined with white pleated silk and the bed itself was made up with thick covers and a matching raspberry and silk quilt. Persian rugs in red and lapis blue covered the dark floorboards around the room, but in front of the enormous fireplace was a thick rug of sheepskins sewn together.
Eve peered into the empty fireplace. It was big enough to roast a boar, she thought as she noticed how worn the bricks were from the heat over the centuries.
‘I will get Peter – the outside man who helps in the garden – to come up and light the fire,’ said Hilditch as she threw Eve’s suitcases on the four-poster bed.
‘Oh, I have asthma – fires make me wheezy,’ Eve said, hating every word that came out of her mouth.
People like Hilditch probably didn’t even believe in asthma.
True to form, Hilditch rolled her eyes. ‘It’s either wheezing or freezing – take your pick.’
Eve bit her lip as she wondered if she could get to the village to get an extra nebuliser and preventative. God she just wanted to go home and eat a bacon sandwich in the bath.
‘Are you ready?’ asked Hilditch. ‘He doesn’t like to wait.’
Eve grabbed her tote bag with her notebook, computer and pens. At the last minute she decided against taking off her coat, choosing warmth over fashion, even though she had a very smart red cable-knit jumper underneath her coat that looked fabulous with her dark hair. But she wasn’t here to impress Edward Priest with her fashion, only her exceptional editing skills.
Scuttling behind Hilditch, she tried to memorise the way back using the faces in the paintings.
Head down towards the Jacobean Harry Styles.
Turn left at Elizabethan Emily Blunt.
Straight on until Victorian Judi Dench or was it Queen Victoria? She wasn’t sure.
And then right at Victorian Emma Watson.
They came to ornate wooden doors and Hilditch knocked and then entered.
‘She’s here,’ she said. ‘I’m off to check the fences at the top of the paddock then off home.’
Eve looked around for Edward Priest but it was hard for her eyes to settle in such a crowded room. There were several desks of various sizes, and sofas and a large fireplace with a fire burning at one end. The walls were covered in bookshelves and there was a slim iron balcony that ran around the shelves, and a circular staircase that allowed the reader to ascend to find the book of choice.
With red carpet and the scent of leather and second-hand books, Eve wondered if she was in a library or heaven.
‘Choose a desk and let’s get started.’
Eve looked around at the desks on offer. ‘Which one is yours?’ she asked.
‘I don’t have a favourite. I move about depending on my book. However, I do find the small chevrette good for editing.’
Eve had no idea what a chevrette was but instead chose the one nearest to her and put her bag down and pulled out her laptop.
Edward looked at her laptop.
