When the carriage stopped at the entrance of the manor, the sky had already darkened.
The Marquis of Hastings did not wait for a servant to come and open the door; instead, he pushed open the carriage door himself and jumped out.
His boots landed heavily on the gravel path, splashing mud everywhere.
The horses pulling the carriage were startled by his action, snorting and lunging forward half a step, but thankfully the coachman held them tightly so no one was hurt.
The evening sunset was beautiful, but the Marquis of Hastings clearly had no interest in staying to admire it. He strode through the porch, into the main building, and as he passed through the foyer, he tossed his coat and gloves at a servant who approached him, without saying a word.
The new servant was so frightened by the Marquis' expression that he stepped back half a step, his hand trembling, nearly dropping the coat.
The Marquis glanced at the roaring fire in the fireplace: "Arthur hasn't left yet, has he?"
