The Legacy of Hope House Read Online Free Page B

yours now by right, but I doubt you’d be entitled to use it. Worth investigating, though.’
    Anna shrugged, and pushed the largest key into the lock. It refused to budge, but when she exerted all her strength, the lock turned with a squeak. Anna gave the great door a vigorous shove and it opened, groaning like something in great pain.
    They stepped into a long, narrow hall that ran the whole length of the front of the house, all window fronted, rather like a front positioned conservatory. ‘Phew,’ she said, holding her nose. ‘This smells.’ She walked inside and looked around. ‘Well, look at these,’ she exclaimed, dropping onto one of the carved chairs near the door. ‘It’s really uncomfortable, if you ask me.’ The whole outer hall was lined with seats and highly polished wooden benches, but it was all so damp and smelly that Anna coughed and spluttered with every breath she took for the first few minutes.
    She selected another key and opened the second door that led off the hall into an enormous, fully furnished square that was obviously an inner hall. This was panelled in oak, and smelled even worse with a thick layer of dust covering every surface. Several doors led off it, and Anna threw each one wide open. The one under the grand staircase refused to open. ‘That must lead to the cellars, so I’ll leave it until another time,’ she said.
    Margaret turned left, and walked into a large room that was obviously a dining room. A long oak refectory table stood in the centre, with twelve carved oak chairs neatly arranged around it. Against one wall stood two antique serving tables, and dotted around were other pieces of ancient furniture. A few paintings adorned the walls, mostly of horses and men in riding habit.
    She crossed over to the far corner and went through an arched doorway into a large kitchen complete with a long, scrubbed pine preparation table set squarely in the centre. It looked as though it had been well used for years. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the huge iron coal-fired cooking range on the far side, around which enormous pots and pans still hung from conveniently placed large hooks. Other utensils were suspended from hooks set into thick, oak crossbeams. Two piles of pewter dinner plates had been neatly stacked on a wooden shelf nearby, and a row of pewter mugs were suspended on hooks below them.
    ‘Not a healthy sort of plate for food, nor an ideal place for cooking a meal,’ she sniffed, and then left the kitchen to go back into the more interesting dining room for another look around. She felt totally in awe of the enormity of this room, and stood in the centre, swivelling around on her heels to view it from every angle. The uncarpeted floor was beautifully timbered with narrow planks of a richly coloured wood - polished teak she guessed, but covered, like everything else with a thin layer of grey dust.
    As she walked the length of the room, Margaret’s high heels clicked on the bare wood with a hollow echo. It made her feel uneasy, and she stopped in her tracks, suddenly overwhelmed with the creepy feeling that someone was following her. She twisted around, but there was no one to be seen. My imagination, she thought, shaking her head and continuing. A moment later, the horrible sensation that something was crawling up her neck stopped her again. No longer able to ignore the conviction that she could hear footsteps close on her heels, she whipped around again. But still, no one was there.
    Disturbed now, and developing beads of nervous perspiration on her forehead, she turned and walked backwards a few steps, so she would be able to see if there actually was someone creeping up on her, for being alone in that huge room made the uncomfortable sensation persist.
    Within seconds, her thumping head suddenly felt tightly fixed in one position. She tried to look around, yet all she could do was swivel her eyes. Even that was an effort - it was as though fear had paralysed her. A dry