The Master of Phoenix Hall Read Free Page A

“Perhaps a little distillery. I wouldn’t have put it past her.”
    I shifted the muff in my lap. “As you know, my aunt was a complete stranger to me.”
    He nodded. “You would have liked her, Miss Todd.”
    I stood up to go. Jacob Patterson rubbed his hands together, relieved to have another successful transaction behind him. I liked the man enormously, and I was sure that he was both honest and efficient.
    â€œYou are a lucky young woman, Miss Todd.”
    â€œI know. This has all happened so quickly, I can hardly believe it even now. It is like a dream—a place of my own, an income, after years of making do. I feel like a child under a Christmas tree with a gorgeously wrapped gold and silver box just for me.”
    Jacob Patterson chuckled. He glanced at his watch.
    â€œI must not keep you,” I said, “I know you are busy. But, before I go, could you tell me a little about Phoenix Hall and its masters? I am very curious.”
    â€œI’ve never been inside the place,” he said, “but I have seen it from outside. It is a vast, rambling place a huge old pile of stone without any real claim to beauty. It’s a mixture of styles, originally built during the reign of Elizabeth and one of the places she visited. It was partially destroyed during Cromwell, much of it burned. It was reconstructed during the next century. Thus it got its new name, rising like the legendary bird out of the ashes. Reborn, so to speak. The Mellorys inherited it during the seventeen hundreds. It has belonged to them ever since. There was coal once, but the supply soon ran out and the old mines were boarded up. There was a large deposit of granite discovered and Bradford Mellory’s father quarried it. Bradford Mellory kept the quarries running, even when they had ceased to be profitable to Phoenix Hall, so that his people would have employment.”
    â€œHe must have been a kind man,” I remarked.
    â€œBradford Mellory was an easygoing, genteel old fellow, it would seem, well loved by all the people in the neighborhood. Phoenix Hall was open to everyone, and he gave grand, lavish parties for the people, the poor folks as well as the gentry. When he died there was much grieving. The new master is not at all like his father. Quite the opposite.”
    I very much wanted to hear about the man who was determined to have Dower House back. Jacob Patterson described him to me as a young man just turned thirty, something of a rake and despised by the people. He had been thrown out of Oxford for gambling, and there had been a lot of trouble with the young women of the neighborhood. The first thing he did when his father died was to close the granite quarries, thus putting all the people who had worked there out of work. There had been threats of a riot among the peasants and the troops had been called in. Violence did not break out, but there was still a smoldering resentment for the present Master of Phoenix Hall.
    â€œHe must be very unpleasant,” I remarked.
    â€œArrogant, spoiled, tyrannical,” Jacob Patterson said.
    â€œWho else lives in Phoenix Hall?”
    â€œHis younger brother, Paul. The lad was injured as a child and he is a semi-invalid, interested mostly in his music and books.”
    â€œHow old is Paul Mellory?” I asked.
    â€œTwenty-three or four, I would guess,” he replied. “I have never seen him, but I understand that he is a gentle boy, much like his father in nature and at odds with his brother. There is a sister, too, Laurel. She would be about your age, a pale, pretty lass who tries to make up for her brother’s harshness by her charity. The people love her, and the love is well earned. She was a friend of your aunt’s. You will no doubt meet Miss Laurel.”
    â€œI shall look forward to it,” I told him.
    I left the office with my head reeling, trying to sort out all the facts I had learned. It was one of those rare,