by Gayla Twist
“My God,” Daniel exclaimed as we exited the cars. “Grandfather must have really been losing his marbles if he thought putting the castle here was a good idea. I’m surprised he didn’t relocate us to a swamp.”
“Stop being such a sourpuss, Daniel,” our mother gently chided him. “You might find that you grow to appreciate country living.”
My brother made a little snorting sound through his nose. “I know I’m immortal, but I doubt I’ll ever live that long.”
Mrs. Denkler was there to greet us bearing three glasses of refreshment on a tray. I don’t know how she managed to arrange for the blood already. I hoped it wasn’t through anything unsavory. But the Vanderlind housekeeper was as fastidious as she was well-mannered. I somehow doubted that she would do anything illegal. “The house is almost completely ready,” she informed us, once we exchanged the most minimal of greetings. “Except for the chandeliers in the great hall. There have been some challenges there and I’m afraid they have yet to be hung.”
“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Denkler,” our mother told her.
“I have the foreman’s promise that they’ll be in place by tomorrow afternoon,” the housekeeper insisted.
“That’s fine,” Mother said, trying to reassure her. “We’re just excited to be home.”
Mrs. Denkler stepped out of the way so that she could gesture toward the front door. “Welcome back to your home.”
It was so strange to wander the rooms of the castle, seeing each thing exactly in its place, as it had been back in Budapest. Mrs. Denkler must have had a photographic memory to been so exact. I only found the smallest of indiscretions as far as replicating the exact setup of our home. A few shirts that I liked to keep in a drawer had been hung up in the closet, and my cufflinks and shirt studs were in the wrong box. But that was all I could find. It was remarkable.
Was Mrs. Denkler really that familiar with the intimacies of my room? That surprised me. Or maybe she was just incredibly intuitive.
As dawn broke over Tiburon, I lay down on my bed, hoping to lose myself to a few hours of oblivion,— I had not yet accustomed myself to sleeping in a coffin — but rest did not come to me. I felt a great anticipation deep in my belly and the sensation prevented me from being able to lie quietly. I rolled around on the bed for a few hours, even attempting the first chapter of several books, before getting up and dressing. One of the benefits of the castle was its noticeable lack of windows. A member of the undead could climb from his coffin at midnight or at high noon and still have no fear of shriveling in the sun.
I could hear a bit of commotion coming from downstairs, so I wandered down to see what was causing the hubbub. It was a dozen workmen in the great hall trying to suspend one of the enormous chandeliers that some relative had seen fit to purchase for the castle. Each chandelier was bedecked with over a thousand leaded crystals, which made the fixtures enormously heavy. The men had assembled scaffolding and a pulley system to hoist the chandelier up, inch-by-inch, to the vaulted ceiling. I didn’t envy them their task, but it was a marvel to watch. Many members of the castle’s staff were standing around the edges of the room in order to take in the spectacle.
I strolled across the polished stone floor with my eyes glued to the dangling crystals of the chandelier. They were all singing as they swayed and clinked together. Their music caused me a pang of sadness. I would never again see the scores of rainbows created by the prisms when they were caught in direct sunlight.
I heard a small gasp. It was like a whisper being carried by the wind. I turned my eyes to see a beautiful young woman with tresses of dark hair spilling around her shoulder. And then my world fell away.
I could see nothing and no one but her. It was as if my world had been blank and this girl appeared to fill it. She was dressed in black with a white apron. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew her clothing was significant, but somehow that didn’t matter. Somehow, deep inside of me, I knew we were meant to be together.
And she was looking at me too. Her eyes were glued to me and she wore the most astonished expression on her face. She opened her mouth and I thought she might speak to me, but then she looked up and started to scream.
I had been so captivated by the beautiful creature standing before me that I didn’t realize the workmen had somehow lost control of the massive chandelier. It was crashing toward the ground, heading for the very spot on which I stood.
If it hadn’t been for my lightning fast undead reflexes and my incredible ability to heal, I would have been squashed like a bug under a barman’s boot. Even still, I was knocked to the ground.
The young woman came running toward me. “Somebody call a doctor!” Pointing toward one of the footmen, she commanded, “Call a doctor this instant,” as if she was the mistress of the castle.
Kneeling down, she took my hand. The mere touch of her skin made me feel like my heart had started beating again. “Don’t move,” she said, in a voice that was so lovely it made me shiver. “We’re sending for a doctor.”
“I’m fine,” I told her, unable to tear my eyes away from her face.
“You’re not fine,” she insisted. “You just had a massive chandelier nearly crush you. You’re lucky to still be alive.”
“Very lucky,” I whispered, looking deep into her eyes of emerald green. “Because it allowed me to meet you.”
She laid her hand to her cheek and shook her head a little. “Oh, how can you flirt at a time like this? I think you must be in shock.” She scanned my body with an assessing eye. “I hope you don’t have any internal injuries.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to untangle myself from the giant arms of the chandelier. “Perhaps a twisted ankle, but that’s all.” My ankle felt fine, but I thought it would be too peculiar if I suffered no injuries at all.
“I don’t think you should try to get up,” she told me, pressing her hands gently against my chest to try to coax me back onto the floor. “The doctor will be here soon, I’m sure.”
I lay back for a moment, toying with the idea of allowing her to tend to me for a little while longer. But I knew that plan was ungentlemanly, so I decided it was better to get to my feet. “I promise you I am not injured,” I told her. “But perhaps you could be good enough to assist me to a chair.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. As she said, put an arm around me to help me to my feet, I felt a moment of sheer happiness.
“What is your name?” I asked as she helped me to a small loveseat. Once I was seated, she tried to pull away, but I held onto her hands so that she was forced to take the seat next to me.
“Colette Gibson,” she told me. “But most people call me Lettie.”
“Colette Gibson,” I said, tasting the words in my mouth. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Colette Gibson,” I told her. “I’m Jessie Vanderlind.”
“Vander…” The girl gulped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Jessie Vanderlind.” Then she added, “But I’m horribly concerned that you’re injured. Are you sure you’re not feeling any discomfort?” she asked, her lovely brow furrowing slightly.
“I feel wonderful,” I assured her. “If I wanted to, I’m sure I could fly.”
Chapter 25
Colette
The week before school let out was excruciatingly long for me. I wasn’t even sure how I got through my final exams. In between studying, I looked up the Empress Elisabeth in an encyclopedia at the school library. It took a little research, but I finally managed to find a photograph of the Empress of Austria, who was also the Queen of Hungary. It was a snapshot of her on her coronation day, back in 1867. She was a beautiful young woman with a curvy figure. Her neck and hands were dripping with pearls and other extravagant jewelry. Her hair appeared to be dark brown in color and she had an abundant amount of it. But beyond the hair, I wasn’t sure how much the Empress and I shared in appearance. She was very beautiful, but she also looked a little forlorn as she gazed into the lens of the camera. Her eyes appeared plai
ntiff and solemn. It wasn’t how I imagined a person would look after just having a crown of diamonds and pearls placed on her head. I thought I might be a little happier about it. But then the encyclopedia went on to explain that she didn’t have a very happy life. And it turned out that the anarchist stabbed her simply because he had missed the opportunity to stab a Duke who claimed to be an heir to the French throne. He vowed to stab the next royal he encountered. Elisabeth was that unfortunately soul.
Even staring at her photograph, I felt no connection to her. At least not in the way that Mrs. Denkler had implied. If anything, I felt a little sorry for her, as much as a cat can feel sorry for a king. No, I was positive there was no connection beyond that. I had to conclude that the whole concept of reincarnation was simply hogwash.
Finally, after what felt like an excruciatingly long week, it was Lily and my first day as housemaids at the castle. We’d each been issued two black dressed as our uniforms. Mama had pinned and tucked them until they fit us perfectly. Lilly spent an extensive amount of time trying to tame my wild hair. The Empress probably was able to afford a personal hairstylist because her excessively long and quite curly hair had looked perfect for her coronation day. Mine just ended up barely staying piled on my head with a few dozen hairpins.
Both Papa and Mama drove us out to the castle to drop us off for our first day at the castle. Papa brought along his camera and stopped the car on the long driveway, just outside the gate. “I want you to know I’m very proud of you girls,” he said as he positioned us so that he could make a photo with the castle in the background. “I’m sure this Mrs. Denkler has hired many a young woman to work at the castle in her day. And with the way the economy is, I’m sure there was more than one woman with experience who applied for the position.”
Lilly and I stood still, and very close to each other, so he could make the photograph.
“She must have seen something in the two of you,” Papa went on. “She must have sensed that you are proper young ladies and that you will do the Vanderlind Castle justice.” He cleared his throat. “And I hope you remember…’
“Okay, I think that’s enough, dear,” Mama said, touching him gently on the arm. “We don’t want the girls to be late. Especially on their first day.”
Millie answered the door again when I rang the bell. “You don’t have to ring, sillies,” she said. “You work here now. You can just let yourselves in.”
“I guess I just assumed the door would be locked,” I explained, fussing with my hair. Several of the bobby pins were already trying to make their escape. I think their plan was made easier by the excessive amount of hair lotion Lilly had applied. That made it simple for them to slide free.
Millie frowned at the door and then looked back at us. “It hasn’t been locked since I started working here.”
First thing we did was report to Mrs. Denkler. We found her in the hallway, just outside the kitchen. She looked us both over while fishing her watch from her pocket. Once she was satisfied that we were on time, she snapped the cover closed on the watch and said, “A housemaid’s hair should always be neat and tidy.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted, knowing her comment was aimed at me. “I seem to have put too much lotion in my hair and now it’s decided to rebel. I promise I’ll get it to behave better tomorrow.”
Mrs. Denkler eyed my hair one more time before saying, “There are several things you need to know about the Vanderlind family.” She started walking and snapped her fingers at us to let us know we needed to keep pace. “The family keeps late hours,” she said. “They all suffer, to varying degrees, from a rare condition that makes them very vulnerable to the sun.” She glanced back at both of us to make sure that we were being attentive. “Because of this malady, they usually adjust their schedules to sleep most of the day and only get up when the sun is low in the sky or has already set.” That explained why we were told to arrive for work at ten o’clock. It had seemed a late hour to begin the work day. “You may be asked to work later in the evening on some occasions. This is to accommodate the family and we expect you to adjust your personal schedule accordingly.”
Lilly and I exchanged glances. Millie mentioned nothing about odd work hours when she showed us around. I had to wonder what Mama and Papa would think. We’d planned on riding our bicycles to work in good weather, but I was sure they wouldn’t let us ride home alone after dark.
“There is illness in the family,” Mrs. Denkler went on. “One of the sons, Arthur, suffers from hemophilia. It’s a rare blood disease and he needs blood transfusions several times a day.”
“Isn’t that the same disease that the last czar’s little boy suffered from?” I asked. “The son from the Russian royal family who were assassinated during the revolution.”
Mrs. Denkler spent a few moments assessing me with her stern eyes. “Yes, I know perfectly well of whom you are speaking and I believe it is similar,” she finally said. “Not much is known about the disease.” She continued walking. “As I was saying, Arthur suffers from hemophilia. Therefore the family is in constant need of blood to keep him alive. We have set up a small clinic in the back of the castle,” she informed us. “You can tell your friends and family, that if any of them care to donate a pint of blood, they will receive two dollars, a sandwich and some apple juice or coffee for their troubles.”
Lilly and I exchanged another look. Two dollars was a full day’s pay for many people. We would both be earning just over three dollars for a full day’s work at the castle and those were considered excellent wages for untrained labor.
“I’m sure we know a lot of people who would be happy to help out,” Lilly said, speaking up. “Unless...” She stammered a little. “I mean, is it very painful? Donating blood?”
“Not in the least,” Mrs. Denkler snapped. “And even if it was, with two dollars in your pocket, I should think most people would be willing to put up with a little pain.”
We both nodded, not wanting to annoy her.
“Arthur Vanderlind is not to be disturbed under any circumstances,” Mrs. Denkler said, eyeing us both. “Even entering his room is cause for immediate dismissal.” We crossed a large room where several men were hammering together a large piece of scaffolding. “Don’t bother the family at any time, but especially when they are resting. You are never to go upstairs unless directly ordered to do so by me. And you are never to address any member of the Vanderlind family, unless they address you first. Do I make myself clear?” Mrs. Denkler glared at us again.
“Yes,” we both said in timid voices. The lady had to be close to seventy, but she was still very formidable. I wouldn’t have crossed her for ten silver dollars.
“Besides, it’s not part of your duties to be in the bedrooms,” she said, leading us down a large hallway. “Your work is solely downstairs.” She opened a door and ushered us in.
“Oh,” I said with a gasp of excitement. We were back in the library. The wonderful smell of books filled my nostrils.
“You’ll get started in here,” she said, producing two feather dusters, seemingly out of nowhere. “Start at one end and work your way to the other. And don’t forget the top shelves, because I’ll check.” She turned to leave, but then paused. “I almost forgot,” she said. “It’s against the rules of the castle for the staff to wear any kind of personal adornment. That means no rings, no bracelets, no pedants, no jewelry of any kind. If I catch you wearing so much as a christening pendant, it’s grounds for immediate dismissal.”
I had a silver and crystal pendant that I always wore. It was only about the size of a nickel and not very flashy in any way, but it was the prettiest thing I owned and I loved it. “So you mean something like this...” I began, indicating the pendant.
“Is completely unacceptable,” the housekeeper told me. “If I see it around your neck tomorrow, you’ll be fired on the spot.” Then she left the room without another word.
We both stood, gazing at the enormous room. It held more books than even a
voracious reader could go through in a lifetime. “You must be in heaven,” Lilly murmured.
“How are we are going to dust all of these?” I murmured back.
Lilly smoothed her apron. “I guess we’ll start in one corner and work our way around,” she said. “It will probably only take seven or eight years.”
“Yes,” I agreed with her, “but then the first books will be dusty again.”
We both giggled. Then Lilly squared her shoulders and said, “Alright, I guess we’re housemaids now. Let’s get started.”
We decided to make a game of it, with Lilly working along one wall and me working along another. They had those rolling ladders like in the Tiburon library, so it was easier to reach the books on the highest shelves. Lilly was much faster at dusting than I was because I wasted a lot of time browsing. I couldn’t help myself; there were so many intriguing titles luring me away from my task.
My hair was in open revolt, expelling bobby pins whenever it saw the opportunity. I tried to collect them when they fell, hoping I’d have a chance to pin my tresses back up when we were given a break for lunch. I knew having my hair hanging down would not please Mrs. Denkler, but there was nothing I could do about it for the time being.
After we’d been working for a couple of hours, the door to the library opened and Millie came in. “There you are,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, but this castle is just so big that I kept getting lost.”
“What is it?” Lilly asked, climbing down from her ladder. “Are we needed somewhere else? We’re not even half way through in here.”
“No, it’s just that they’re hanging the chandeliers in the great hall and I thought you might like to see it,” the other maid told her.