The black cab chugged its way down the narrow lane, hedgerows laced with early summer flowers standing tall on either side. Thomas occasional glimpsed an old manor house through the gaps in the hedge. He thought of the old days of gentry and peasants, days long gone. He chuckled to himself thinking in those days it would have been impossible for someone such as himself to attend Oxford. The university did not technically give full ride scholarships, but consortiums of alumni set up various funds to allow third world students and the underclasses like himself an opportunity to attend. He considered it all very Noblesse Oblige when he was in a cynical frame of mind.

Sarah was beside him, his on-again off-again girlfriend of the last semester. He was surprised when she offered to take him to her parent’s home over the summer break. She never came across as having particularly strong emotional attachments and he secretly felt she had asked only to have someone around during the break besides her mother. She did not speak much about her family, all he knew was that her father had passed some years before, leaving only Sarah, her mother and her younger brother Nigel. Though she did seem to dote on her brother and spoke proudly of his accomplishments.

Thomas had no idea where they were going. Sarah just said it would be a surprise. From the train station they had passed through the local village and out into the countryside. She did not strike him as a farm girl. Perhaps she came from new money, the sort who would set up away from the towns to distance themselves from the working class. Or possibly her mother worked for the wealthy and had a live-in arrangement. Thomas returned from his reverie as the cab slowed and turned into the curving drive of crushed stone leading up to the expansive manor house. He could tell it was built from local stone and had been part of the landscape for centuries. Crenelated towers stood like bookends to the main house. The gray stone and dark slate of the roof gave it a dowdy appearance. The cab stopped on the loose stone in front of the main entrance.

He looked over at Sarah, “Are you serious? This is where you live?”

She gave a slight grin, “I know, this place is older than Jesus. I keep telling my mum it is time to upgrade but she won’t budge. She just goes on about generations and generations, blah, blah, blah.”

Sarah stepped out of the cab, “Thomas, grab my bags. Please.”

She shook her bag of caramels she had been snacking on the entire trip. He could tell by the sound there was only one left. She fished it out and shoved it into her mouth with a grin.

Thomas met the cabbie around back and collected the baggage as he pulled it from the boot. Once all the bags were out, Thomas held out a ten-pound note to the driver.

The old driver shook his head, “Not necessary sir, it’s all covered by the family.” He smiled at Thomas and continued, “If I may be bold, you seem new to this. Just a word of advice to a young fellow such as yourself. You are about to go into a world you have never seen, keep your wits and don’t let them put you down.”

Thomas gawped as the cabbie returned to the front. He closed his mouth and dragged the bags across the rough stone to the covered entry. He looked up and met the gaze of a matronly woman, hair just beginning to go gray. She wore a riding outfit and held up a riding crop in one hand.

“Don’t slouch, Sarah. It does not befit your station.”

Sarah, still chewing on the caramel, pointed at Thomas and told the woman, “Mm, dis iz Tmsas”, she swallowed and continued, “He is my boyfriend from Oxford.” Looking at Thomas she said, “This is my mum.”

The woman nodded and said, “Welcome to my home Tmsas. You do have an unusual name. Is it Gaelic or old Scottish perhaps? I hope it’s not Welsh. I just can’t abide those people.”

Thomas nodded, “Thank you ma’am. You can call me Thomas.”

“Nonsense! Be proud of your name and do not alter it to buckle to the will of the ill-informed. You can fill me in on your family history later. I have a horse waiting for me, must be off. We will talk again.”

She waved him off and turned back into the house.

Thomas bent to retrieve the bags. Sarah grabbed him by the arm, “Leave those. Someone will be along to bring them in. Let’s go get a bite, I’m starving after the trip. I feel like I haven’t eaten a thing in days!”

Sarah dragged Thomas through a maze of rooms, hallways and stairs filled with dark wood, heavy furniture and large paintings of severe looking ancestors. Finally, they arrived in an expansive kitchen, larger than the school kitchen where Thomas was required to work to qualify for his scholarship. Bright sunshine shown in through the western windows, giving the room a homey feel despite the size. A thirty-foot-long wooden table took up the center of the room, flanked by ovens, cabinets and endless sinks. At the far end stood a young woman kneading bread. Her bun of light brown hair bobbled as she pushed and heaved the dough.

Sarah called out, “Hi Jenny! I could really go for a sandwich. What do you have?”

The young woman turned, her simple country beauty stopping Thomas in his tracks. Sarah went for a refrigerator on the left, diving in and tossing various foodstuffs out onto the massive table.

Seeing that he was not going to be introduced, Thomas walked over to where Jenny continued to work on the bread. He stood and watched her work the dough until she stopped and turned to him, a vexed look in her eye.

He stepped back, “Ahh, hi. I’m Thomas. I came down from Oxford with Sarah. Sorry to interrupt, I’ll let you get on with it. I just wanted to say hi and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Thomas began to turn away. Jenny touched his arm with her hand, leaving a dusting of flour. She smiled, “It’s ok. Nice to meet you too. I can see you are not one of them, maybe we can have a chat over a cup of tea later when I’m not busy?”

Sarah had finished filling a large charger with meats and cheese, various breads, pickles and mustard. She motioned for Thomas to follow as she led out to a rear patio looking down on the gardens and further out to the endless parkland and forests.

They settled in on the patio while Sarah shoved slices of ham into her mouth. She pointed out towards the central fountain, “Who dat?” Chunks of meat sprayed the balustrade. She wiggled her index finger to indicate a young man, stripped to the waist, fishing muck out of the fountain. His broad shoulders were tanned from the sun, strong muscles rippled in concert with the sucking sound his shovel was making as he lifted the watery mud from the fountain bowl.

Jenny strode out onto the patio making a beeline towards Thomas. “Hey, I made this sandwich for you. I just pulled a turkey from the oven. I cut the best slices of the tender breast for you and added my special cranberry sauce. I hope you like it.” She bent over to hand him the plate. Thomas averted his eyes, looking quickly up towards her face. He caught the stink-eye she shot at Sarah and the word “pig” she muttered under her breath.

She smiled and said, “If you need anything else, just call.”

Thomas thanked her as she backed away. Sarah wiped some meat juice and cheese crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand, “Who is that in the garden?”

Jenny stopped, “Oh, that’s Brian. He is the gardener now.”

“What happened to that old fellow? Forgot his name, Bob or James? Something like that.”

Jenny frowned, “Giuseppe passed in February. He’s buried in the chapel yard just past the woods, in case you would like to pay respects. Brian is the youngest son from one of the local farms. He’s lucky to get this position. As the youngest of six boys there was no future for him on the farm. It was here or off to a factory.”

Sarah grunted while selecting a pickle from a small bowl.

Thomas frowned, “Though I didn’t know him, I would like to pay my respects. Any man who can create such a beautiful vista is well worth what little honor I can bestow.”

“Thank you for such kind words. I can take you over any day you like. I can throw together a little picnic box and show you the grounds as well. It will be an adventure! I can show you all the secluded spots.” Jenny winked and pirouetted back towards the kitchen.

Sarah stood up. “I need to give directions on the flowers arrangements for the house. It’s hard to find anyone who can do a good flower arrangement. I will be back in a jiffy.” She stepped away from the table. “I may be longer than a jiffy. Why don’t you go find out when my brother is arriving?”

She skipped across the patio and down the stone steps leading to the garden.

Thomas watched her head for the strapping young man. He looked about, deciding he would like to see the view from the crenellations at the top of the tower. Picking up his plated sandwich, he headed up the stone stairs to the upper balcony. Entering the building, he wandered about until he found the round staircase leading to the top of the tower. Emerging at the top he found a small bistro table with two chairs. He settled down and ate his sandwich enjoying the view of the sun setting over the forests and fields of the countryside.

He headed back down the staircase and found his way to the front door to retrieve his bags. They had disappeared at some point during the afternoon. He turned back into the house only to be met by a man in livery.

“Welcome to Bransbury Manor sir. Your luggage has been delivered to your room. Would you like me to guide you there?”

Thomas nodded, “Yes, please.”

Without another word the footman turned towards the main staircase. Thomas followed him up and along a long hallway. The man stopped and opened a door. Standing aside he gestured for Thomas to enter. “This is your bedroom during your stay. Dinner will be served in room tonight. The lady of the house is indisposed and asked we not have a formal dinner. If there is a need I can help you with, just press this button here beside the door. Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like me to bring it without delay?”

“Yes, that will be fine. Thank you.”

Thomas walked into the room, closing the door behind him. His suitcase was nowhere to be seen. He opened the wardrobe to find his clothes neatly put away. He found a selection of books on a side table. Picking out a small tome, he placed it next to one of the overstuffed chairs. He was tired from the travel and decided to take a shower before dinner.

He emerged from the bathroom to find his dinner had arrived and was set on the desk. He lifted the silver dome to find a selection of the same turkey he had earlier along with some stuffing, cranberry and a glop of mashed potatoes formed in the shape of a valentine heart. A sprig of rosemary pierced the potatoes in a representation of cupid’s arrow. He doubted all the diners had the same presentation.

After eating he picked up the book he had selected and headed for the bed. Climbing in he opened the book and began to read. It was an odd yet enjoyable story of a civil war general and soon he was asleep.

In the morning he dressed and headed down to see about breakfast. In the main dining room, he found a silver service of coffee and several pastries. He filled a cup and headed out to the balcony to greet the day. Thomas found the lady of the house seated on the balcony. “Good morning ma’am. I apologize for not being aware of the correct address and title. Sarah did not inform me her mother was of noble birth.”

“Never mind all that, you can address me as Margaret. Titles and such are for servants. I would like to hear about your lineage though now that we have a moment. You have a familiar look, who is your father?”

“I do not know much about him. You see my parents passed while I was still quite young. I have no relatives I know about. What little information I have is he managed a mercantile in the Plymouth area. I have an old photo and a birth certificate. Not much else.”

“That is a sad tale and yet here you are. There must be blue blood in your veins for you to land on your feet so admirably. I do believe you have arrived here for a reason. We have an extensive set of genealogy references in our library. We will solve the mystery of your birth soon enough.”

“I had not considered such a thing.” Thomas mustered, “I suppose it is the secret dream of all of England, to discover one is a long-lost prince or princess. I would very much enjoy looking at your books to see what we can find.”

Margaret clapped her hands, “Well then let’s get to it! What is your surname?”

“My father’s name was Michael Cranford, my mother was born Theresa Morton.”

Margaret thought for a moment, “There is a Duke of Cranford. Perhaps you are the off-shoot of a younger son. Let’s go to the library!”

She sprang up, grabbing Thomas’ hand and dragging him back into the house. After several minutes of traversing rooms and hallways, they arrived at the manor library.

“Have a seat. First we need fresh coffee.” She strode over to an intercom set on a small table between two couches. She pressed the button and spoke quickly into the device, hanging up before getting a response.

“First we should look at the book of Lords. We can trace the heirs of the Dukedom and see if that turns up any interesting information.”

She began to drag a rolling ladder across the bookshelves. Thomas jumped up from his seat, “Let me help with that.”

Margaret positioned the ladder and pointed up, “See that set of green bound books up near the top. Get the one for the East Midlands.”

Thomas hurried up the ladder and retrieved the book. He slowly descended, holding the heavy book to his chest in order to maintain his balance. He placed the book on the reading table for Margaret.

She opened the book, flipping through pages, muttering to herself. “Here it is! We have the current duke, born 1958. He was the only son of the prior duke, born 1923. He was the oldest child of his father, born in 1892. Ah, here we are. He had four sons. The oldest naturally took the title. The second son born in 1925 went to the church. The third was killed in the war. Such a waste of good nobility was thrown against those retched heathens.”

She jabbed a finger into the book, “Here it is! The fourth son, born in 1933, took a commission in the Royal Navy. It says he settled in Plymouth. This book does not cover his children. We will have to dig through other records. Tedious work. I will have one of the servants find the information.”

She beamed at him. “I would say there is it a good chance you are a long-lost cousin of the current Duke!”

Thomas smiled. He was happy to see her happy. But he did know he was not the cousin of the Duke of Cranford. He was born in America, moving to England when he was barely a year old.

Thomas climbed the ladder with the heavy book, placing in back on the shelf.

Sarah burst into the room, “Mother, I have had it with these chilly rooms. We are moving!”

Margaret sat on the couch, “Well, if you insist. But before we move, we must start by finding some new furniture. We could never take the pieces from this house.”

Margaret stood suddenly, “Sarah, get your laptop. We are going shopping!”

The two women hurried from the room talking excitedly to each other.

Thomas stayed in the Library, spending several hours scanning the rows of books. He would pick out one or another, flipping a few pages before putting it back. He could get an Oxford education and more just from reading a fraction of the books in this room. He was starting to get hungry and wandered from the library towards the dining hall. The breakfast items had been cleared but there was no sign of lunch. He decided to find the footman to find out about mealtimes. He moved through the hallways towards the main foyer. He arrived to find the footman receiving a hug from a teenage boy. Thomas assumed this must be Nigel and went over to introduce himself.

Nigel caught sight of Thomas as he walked over, “You must be Thomas. My sister told me you were coming. It’s a great pleasure to have you in our home. She told me were bootstrapping your way up the ladder. Very admirable.”

Thomas held out his hand, “Thank you. I do my best. She has talked about you as well. I secretly have been looking forward to meeting you, Sarah has said such great things about you.”

Nigel gave Thomas’ hand a firm shake, “Let me get settled in and we can talk over lunch. Is that fine with you?”

“Yes, of course.”

Nigel walked off, heading up the main staircase. Thomas turned to the footman. Before he could speak the footman informed him, “Lunch will be on the patio. When the weather is good, lunch is always served on the patio. If it is uncomfortable outside, lunch is served in the solarium. Dinner is in the main dining hall unless the Lady of the house has deemed otherwise. I will let you know in such case. Afternoon tea will come to you, as long as you are in the house. If you require a picnic lunch or snack, just ask the cook.”

Thomas thanked the man and headed out towards the patio. The women had decided to have lunch in town, so Thomas waited for Nigel to come down.

The door opened, Nigel striding forward to where Thomas was waiting. “Hey, so my mom called me earlier. She was rather excited; said you were the cousin to the Duke of Cranford. I hear they have quite a place over by London. Have you ever been?”

“Ah, no. Actually, I think she might be mistaken. I’m pretty sure of it. I don’t know how to tell her, she seemed so happy when she figured it out.”

“Just leave it. She really loves all the old nobility stuff and who is above who. She can tell you the royal succession order down to the 100th person. She’s like those kids who memorize PI to a thousand decimal places.”

“Even so, I hate to leave her with a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, posh! It’s not like you are running around claiming a seat in the House of Lords. Let her have her fun. Here, let’s get started on lunch. By the way, nothing is impossible, she may just be right.”

Thomas shrugged as Nigel pulled him over to the table. “After this we can go out for a ride. We have some nice ponies that need their exercise.”

“I’m going to have to turn you down. I’ve never ridden before; I don’t know how.”

Nigel laughed, “Seriously? I’m just going to have to teach you. It will give us something to do over the break. Why, I think I can make you such a good rider you will be a shoo-in for the polo team when you get back!”

Later that afternoon Thomas took his first ride on a horse and much to his pride and amazement he did not fall off once. When they returned the women were back from town.

Margaret beckoned Nigel to come over, “Nigel, your home! You are just in time. I have some news, we are moving!”

Nigel looked perplexed, “Moving? Where to?”

Margaret paused, “I don’t know.” She brightened up, “Doesn’t matter, I have begun to order new furniture so we will just have to find a place to put it. We found the most gorgeous Louis XIV bedroom set. I suppose we will have to find a place in France.”

Nigel shrugged, “Great. Let me know when to pack.”

Thomas, happy to be excluded from the discussion, wandered back in the house. He heard a noise coming from the main foyer and decided, having nothing else to do, he could spend the next several hours figuring out what it was. He walked towards the front door, hearing the noise coming from outside. Pulling open the door, he was greeted by a sweaty middle-aged man in an off-color linen jacket and a young Russian couple in track suits.

The malodorous man stepped forward, grabbing Thomas’ hand, “Hello! You must be the master of the house. I heard rumor around town that your great family was moving to Australia. I just happen to have this couple who are in the market for a manor house. When I described the place, they were just ecstatic about the opportunity to have their very own piece of English history.”

Thomas glanced over at the couple. The woman was tapping at her phone with her long nails, grimacing while trying to compose a text message. The young man was picking at his dirty nails while shuffling his foot, building and knocking down small piles of stones in the driveway. He paused for a moment to get her attention, speaking softly in Russian while making crude gestures at the back of the agent.

Thomas looked back at the grinning man. “Well, I’m just a guest for the summer. Perhaps if you wait here, I can find someone to answer your questions.”

Thomas turned back into the house, heading for the patio. He stopped suddenly while crossing the foyer. In his mind he could picture what would happen if her were to bring Margaret and Sarah to meet this group. And by God, he would not see such a beautiful Manor fall into the hands of some uncivilized and boorish Russian mafia family. They would likely have monster truck rallies in the great hall. He turned back towards the door and marched right out, facing the agent square on.

“Sir, I am sorry to say you are mistaken. This manor is not for sale and will not be so in the future. Take a lesson to disregard the idle gossip of the ill-bred. I stridently suggest you take yourself and your ‘clientele’ from these lands and do not return!”

Thomas turned back to the house, closing the door with vigor. He felt energized. It was time to put all this silliness behind. He marched himself directly to the patio.

“Lady Margaret, Sarah, Nigel, listen up now!”

The three immediately stopped their discussion of France and furniture, turning to face Thomas.

“We are not moving! This manor contains the history of your lineage. It is not to be tossed aside in favor of some boring box of a house. I will not allow it!”

The women were in shock. Nigel, on the end, stealthily shot him a thumbs up.

Margaret was the first to recover. She looked away from Thomas and stepped over to the balcony. After a moment, she straightened her back and turned.

“I have a confession.”

She looked over at Sarah and Nigel, “Children, I am sorry for not telling you this before.”

Steeling her nerve, she faced Thomas. “I cannot sell this manor. You see, my husband, their father, was not of noble birth. I am the younger daughter of a family of two siblings. When I was just a girl, my elder brother left for America with his young bride. He settled in New York but soon disappeared and was not heard from again. When I married, an agreement was made with my father that my husband and I would act as custodians for the manor until my brother or his heir returned.”

“His disappearance was kept quiet. There were rumors he was involved in some nefarious activities, but they were just rumors. It is difficult to know what to believe.”

Thomas collapsed into a nearby chair, his face gone white. Sarah rushed over to him, “Thomas, what is the matter?”

Thomas began quietly, “I too have a confession.”

He found his strength and stood. “I grew up an orphan as I said before. There is more. I don’t know all the details other than what was provided to me upon reaching adulthood. I was summoned to Scotland Yard a few days after my 18th birthday. I was told the true nature of my parents and how they had died. My parents had come to America from England just after they were married. My father had somehow gotten himself involved with a gang of thugs operating in the New York mafia. One day things went wrong, and his wife and infant son were threatened. He made the decision to turn informant. After the unpleasantries, the entire family moved from New York back to Plymouth when I was barely a year old. A mole in the FBI had provided the information of my family’s location to a mobster and my parents were killed. For my protection, my name was changed, and I was put into the foster care system. No attempt was made to find any relatives here or in America.”

Sarah looked at Thomas, then her mother, “Is this true, could he be?”

Margaret nodded, “Yes, it all fits.”

Sarah stepped back, a look of distaste crossing her face. “So that means – we are cousins?”

A look of horror overcame her, “Eww! That’s gross!”

She waggled her finger at Thomas, “We are done! I am breaking up with you!”

She ran to the house, her voice trailing behind, “Oh God oh God oh God.”

Nigel came forward, “Do we need to do a blood test to know for sure?”

Margaret smiled, “I know it’s true now. When I said you looked familiar, it is because you look just like my brother the last time I saw him, just before he left for America. You said you have a picture? Bring it out and I am sure that will settle the matter.”

The summer weeks passed. Thomas and Nigel became best of friends. Sarah spent many hours with the gardener discussing the arrangement of her flowers. Thomas and Jenny went on their picnic. The heat of August faded, and the students began preparations for returning to school.

Thomas carrying a blanket, walked out into the evening air with Jenny on his arm. He stretched out the blanket and laid down next to her, looking up at the stars.

“In my physics class we learned there is no concept of up or down in space. It is all relative to how you look at things. I’ll give you an example. If you were to drill a hole from where we are straight through the earth and come out the other side, the closest land is named Antipodes Islands? When we look up at the stars, the people of those islands must be looking down and when they look up, we are the ones looking down.”

“Just imagine yourself held to the bottom of the earth, gravity the only thing stopping you from falling off into the cosmos. Now look at all the stars and envision you are looking down at the universe while it looks up at you.”