Literature
1859.
January 16, 1859.
There was once an old house at the back of the estate. The house was considered small, made of stone with twelve bedrooms, a study, library and dining hall, a grand staircase, and the servers’ quarters where the old kitchen once lived. It was the main house, built in 1303, along with a small, stained-glass chapel and a cold, dark cemetery. Paintings in the library hung from the walls. The paint was thick and oily, which rendered landscapes layered by textures. As a little girl, I was always hiding. Claire, the old woman who has worked here longer than one would know and my maiden for my teenage years, would find m