" Magnificent trees, the legacy of Lord Ashbury's distant ancestors, lined the way, their highest boughs arching to meet, outermost branches lacing so that the road became a dark, whispering tunnel.
As I burst into the light that afternoon, the sun had just slipped behind the roofline and the house was in eclipse, the sky behind glowing mauve and orange. I cut across the grounds, past the Eros and Psyche fountain, through Lady Violet's garden of pink cabbage roses and down into the rear entrance. The servants' hall was empty and my shoes echoed as I broke Mr. Hamilton's golden rule and ran along the stone corridor. Through the kitchen I went, past Mrs. Townsend's workbench covered with a panoply of sweet breads and cakes, and up the stairs. "

― Kate Morton , The House at Riverton