He went into the hallway and behind the grand staircase, where a plainer one led downstairs into the manor kitchen. It remained largely unused these days, except during the increasingly rare birthday parties where Harold would actually hire a catering firm to provide for up to two hundred guests for an evening. He'd skipped it last year, not wishing to be reminded the birthday was technically a milestone of middle age, at least according to the younger generation.
The ironware tinkled as he passed. Despite its lack of use, Molly kept everything clean and dusted, claiming it was easier this way-- there were no oily deposits on the surfaces that came with regular use. It gave her something to occupy her time, too, a bonus for an unsleeping ghost with a work ethic.
He pulled a loose tile from the huge, built-in range and tugged at the lever behind. A fastening clicked, allowing him to pull a section of the hearth to one side. A spiral staircase led downwards and he followed it to a room beneath the kitchen, well appointed with stove and toilet facilities that were attached to those in the kitchen to provide cover for their use. Despite the room being underground there were even windows, cleverly designed with angled mirrors and looking like airbricks from the outside.
Best of all, Molly and Lucy were sat on the sofa in front of the television, the latter watching cartoons and the former sharpening a sword with a whetstone.
“Ah. There you are, sir. I 'ope you've dealt wi' that abomination by now?”