“And what, sleep on the floor?” she exclaimed. Not only was he suggesting they stay there, he wanted her to clean? “Not to mention there is no food or cleaning supplies.”
“All easily resolved,” he said. “We’ll go into the village to the pub and have dinner, stop in at the market and stock up for a couple of days. We can get some bedding and some sleeping bags and camp out.”
“Be reasonable,” Hillary pleaded. “We can come back first thing in the morning—we don’t even know if there is water or electricity.”
“There is water,” he said. “I checked. And the toilets work,” he added quickly before she could mention it. And there should be electricity. I spoke to the estate agent about it last week.”
She groaned. “And if there is no electricity?”
“Then there is a basket of candles in the front hall.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“Hillary.” He tried to smile. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“This isn’t adventure—this is you trying to make me miserable.”
Matthew sighed. He shrugged. “I really don’t have to try this hard, do I? I mean, you’re miserable all the time.”
“What do you expect?” Hillary demanded. “You don’t consult me about anything, you just announce.” God, she did not want to do this now. She just wanted to take a hot bath. She just wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before Matthew was laid off. Back when they’d loved each other’s company, when he didn’t cling to some rustic, rundown old English house like it was his lifeline. But he had seemed so excited, and she hadn’t seen him excited in a long time, and really, where was her sense of adventure? “Matthew, I—”
“Look, I am staying here,” he said curtly. “You can get a hotel if you want.”
Just like that, he pushed her into a corner again. “Fine,” she said irritably. “Far be it from me to interfere with whatever this is,” she said, gesturing to him and the empty space around him.
He looked annoyed. “I’m going to get the luggage.”
Hillary watched him troop down the stairs. When she heard him go out, she looked around the landing once more. Why did she feel so uneasy? As if she were invading someone’s space. She didn’t like the feeling at all, and hurried downstairs to help after Matthew.
They made a trip into the village of Tadcaster, picked up some supplies, a few groceries that they could stuff into two coolers, and some sleeping bags until they could arrange for a bed.
It was early evening when they arrived back at Whitstone House. As they pulled into the drive, Hillary squinted at the door. “Did you leave it open?” she asked Matthew.
He looked, too. “I didn’t think I did. The latch is probably rusty,” he said. “I’ll have a look.”
They hauled in their purchases, and dragged the coolers into the kitchen area. Hillary dumped ice on top of them while Matthew checked the door. He came back to the kitchen and told her nothing was wrong with the latch. “It’s fine. I guess I left it open.”
“What about electricity?”
“Got a little problem there,” he said apologetically. “I can’t find the breaker box. I’ll have to call the caretaker tomorrow.”
“Great,” she said.
“I’m going to go sweep out a room for us,” he said, and left her to finish up in the kitchen. When Hillary finished, she went upstairs to help. They went around opening windows, airing out the house, trying to get rid of the musty smell.
When dusk fell, Hillary opened a bottle of wine while Matthew lit candles. He showed Hillary an old concave mirror on the wall in the main drawing room. He explained how those mirrors were intended to reflect light to provide more of it.
“Seriously, how do you know these things, like the history of light?” Hillary asked curiously.
Matthew grinned. “I’ve been reading up,” he said. In the candlelight, she noticed that he looked boyishly handsome, like the guy she’d fallen in love with twelve years ago. They’d met at an engagement party for one of Hillary’s co-workers. Hillary had just sold her first house, and Matthew had brokered the mortgage. He’d said hello at the party, asked if she had any other sales. Hillary remembered that great smile, the shining blue eyes under a mop of dark hair. He used to tell people he couldn’t look away from her brown eyes, that they reminded him of pools of honey.
Whatever had clicked between them that night, Matthew had left with her number, and over the several weeks that followed, they fell in love.