It was difficult to find him.

I’m amazed at the fact that I can still speak a coherent word. First, I dragged Cicilie with me to see Giselle, the cook, but I forgot that she’s in Maidstone with her daughters. We went to the servant’s quarters and I asked a stableboy, who didn’t have the foggiest idea who I was talking about. So I found Marta, the Earl’s wife’s maid, but she only blushed and giggled, so I deemed it a lost cause and moved on. Eventually, a boy a bit older than me walked past holding a tray stacked high with teacups. After some thought, he pointed me in the direction of a little house in the grounds, almost hidden at the edge of a wood.

Suffice to say, it took me far more time than I’d like to admit.  

*

Stepping into the hallway, I notice it smells like roses, which seems fitting. I linger for a second, admiring the graceful carving around the doorframe, before Cicilie tugs on my hand and I follow Ari into his living room. It’s all warm wood and windows, and here, too, beautiful designs are carved into the furniture by a practiced hand: a low writing desk, laden with papers; a chair hewn of swirling caramel wood; a few plush armchairs piled with embroidered cushions; and a forest green couch, which looks like Cicilie could practically melt into it. There’s also a pretty sage rug spread over the polished floorboards, patterns picked out in gold thread. 

I am so jealous of Ari’s living room. He’s either very wealthy, or he’s been collecting a while - everything here is tasteful and organised and beautiful. 

Just like him…