for me. I half stood, and I tip-toed my way to the console at the front of the car. I opened the mahogany door and found it to be a miniature refrigerator. I ran my hand over the assorted bottles. There were miniatures of Scotch, Vodka Gin and numerous brandies and cordials. Bottles of wine and half bottles of champagne stood to one side. Above the console hung inverted flutes and rows of assorted glass wear.
I chose a bottle of sparkling water, and inched my way back to my seat. I imagining myself as royalty, me on my way back to the castle. I took a sip right out of the bottle. So much for Royalty, Sibyl girl , I thought . I'm afraid you're a commoner at heart.
I continued browsing, discovering a panel of buttons and switches conveniently positioned on the arm rest on my right. I pushed the first button at random and I was delighted to watch the black velvet curtains slide gracefully along their concealed rails on each side of the limo. Slowly the curtains blacked out the daylight from within my private chamber. I watched with delight as tiny luminaries in the overhead automatically compensated for the darkness, each bulb creating a warm glow, twinkling from the ceiling like tiny stars. I watched as they dotted the roof in tune with the closing of the curtains.
I was like a kid in a candy store. I touched the adjacent switch and the back of my seat reclined, while simultaneously I felt my legs spread and become elevated by a support that raised my legs to a reclining position. I reached between my legs to find that there was a small padded drawer. Inside I found headrests. How odd , I thought. They are fixed in place and they look like the ones you would find on the backs of chairs in a beauty salon. I guess that somehow they snap on to seatbacks so that a passenger could nap in full comfort . The person who designed this rolling luxury had thought of every possible convenience.
I couldn't stop myself. I continued pushing buttons. One button engaged a flat screen television that miraculously rose from the interior of the console. The next button produced a speaker phone above my head and a polite voice prompted: "Calling please?"
It was too late for restraint, "Old Abbey Hotel," I said. The instrument went silent momentarily, and then a voice, "Old Abbey Hotel, front desk. May I help you?"
"Sorry," I lied sheepishly. "I dialed a wrong number."
I could hear the desk man hang up, and the speaker phone recognized the disconnection and responded, "Instructions please?"
"Disconnect?" It was the best I could offer, but to my joy it recognized my command and the system said, "Disconnecting."
I continued playing with the switches and stopped only when I felt the car slowing down. I opened the drapes and rearrange everything in the original position. I sat upright and smoothed my clothing so as to appear as proper as I believed the Lady would expected of me.
Madison slowed the Bentley and he eased the car onto a country road beyond the outskirts of Bath. The landscape drifted gracefully by my windows. I settled in to enjoy the unmistakable beauty of the farm land of the Cotswold’s, rolling country landscape occasionally punctuated by grazing sheep and modest farmhouses with hand worked thatched roofs, all magically passed by my window.
The journey continued for thirty minutes. Madison turned the car into what I thought a country lane. Later I was to discover that the Manor sat upon over twelve hundred acres of land, and that this lane was merely the access to what would soon be a vision of elegance that I would never forget.
I sat up abruptly in my seat. The narrow lane widened and a tree-lined boulevard rose to accept the entrance of the Bentley. We passed under the canopy of branches, the sun dancing through the leaves and reflecting through the car’s window. Madison guided the limo to a round-a-bout which in the center rose a tall marble obelisk, a rectangular tower baring the same Crest that was on Madison's card.