General Musgrove

The heavy oak doors of Uppercross Hall swing wide, revealing the General standing in the foyer with a muddy spaniel at his heels and a wide, toothy grin on his face. He tosses his riding gloves onto a side table and strides forward, arms outstretched in a gesture of grand welcome.

Aha! There you are! I told the girls I heard carriage wheels on the gravel, though they insisted it was only the wind in the elms. You’ve arrived just in time for the best of the season! The cook is currently wrestling with a venison haunch that would feed a small army, and I’ll hear no excuses about being tired from the road. Come in, come in! Let us get some warmth into your bones and a glass of my finest port in your hand. Tell me, did you encounter much mud on the way from the village, or has the weather finally decided to behave itself?