by Power, Max
Wormhold tossed his hat and scarf on a small Mahogany table and removed his heavy top coat revealing a very colourful waistcoat and crisp white blouse beneath. There was a fire blazing near the centre of the longest wall in the room and he stood with his back to it, watching his somewhat bewildered guest as she tried to make sense of it.
“Perhaps you’d like some tea?” Wormhold didn’t wait for an answer; he stepped to one side and pulled a chord on the wall beside the fireplace.
Daisy May looked at him then looked around again. She made her way around the Library touching the beautifully bound books at eye level. Many were familiar. A man dressed in what she supposed was the uniform of a butler, presented himself at the door. Wormhold barked a brief order.
“Tea for Miss Claudette and perhaps some nibbles Carrywell.”
“Of course Sir.”
Carrywell bowed slightly, turned and left without another word.
Daisy witnessed the exchange and then followed Wormhold with her eyes as he stepped back in front of the fire.
“Who is Claudette?” She looked away to the books as she spoke.
“You are the delightful Claudette.”
It was a simple and direct answer and Daisy took little from it.
“Why the alias?”
Wormhold chose not to answer that particular question, not yet at least.
“You have not commented on the house. Aren’t you surprised?”
Surprised was not the word, Daisy May had no idea where they might be, but she refused to give away her complete disorientation or indeed any advantage to this man. Thinking of it, his question caused her to look for a window. Perhaps she could look out and see something familiar that might give her a clue as to where they might be.
Daisy walked to the window without answering and looked out. It was an unfamiliar landscape. Wormhold of course sensed it and addressed her unasked question.
“Behind us about half a mile back, is Darkly Wood. If you head straight out a good ten miles will get you to the dreadful little town you might know as Henbry. Cranby is at the far side of the Wood.”
Daisy literally spun on her heels.
“This can’t be Fairly Hall?”
“You have done your research Daisy May.” She looked at him in astonishment.
“But it can’t be! Fairly was burned to the ground, its ruins decimated. There is no trace left of fairly, none.” She looked around at the room. It was truly majestic. The materials used in the décor and furnishings were fabulous, mahogany, teak, leather and gold leaf everywhere. The library was a virtual work of art.
“Yet here we stand.”
Carrywell interrupted as he entered and brought in the tea which he poured in silence before leaving without saying a word. As he pulled the door closed, Carrywell paused for just a moment and took a quick look at Daisy May. He looked confused. When he had closed the door, Wormhold commented on the look.
“It’s your clothes.” Daisy looked down at her clothes.
“What about them?”
“He has never seen Claudette dress this way.”
Daisy was confused and she asked the question.
“Who is Claudett…?” She stopped. The name suddenly fell into place. Fairly Hall was not mentioned much in her research. It had been burned to the ground in a mysterious fire. There was only one mention of Claudette in connection to the place which is why she didn’t make the connection initially. The owner of the house was a man called Theobald Primple who had lost the house as part of a gambling debt to a man from outside the area. His name was missing from all records that Daisy had researched, but he was mentioned due to rumours about his involvement with the death of a girl called Claudette and her baby. She tried to piece it together.
“He believes you to be my Claudette.” Wormhold revealed two things in the statement. One was that she was supposed to be Claudette and secondly that Wormhold was the man rumoured to be connected to Claudette’s death. None of this was either possible or made sense.
“You wanted answers; I am giving them to you. Perhaps you came looking for clarity, for me to explain about poor Benjamin and what happened to you back then? I understand your confusion. Now you have more questions.
“I only have one question.” Daisy took him by surprise.
“Where are my girls?”
“Ah… I may have given you the wrong impression there.”
“What do you mean…wrong impression? I came with you because you promised to bring me to them.”
“I promised they’d be safe. I didn’t say for how long.”
Before he could react, Daisy had launched herself at Wormhold. His deception and duplicity meant that he was not going to be able to help her get back to Rose and Holly. If anything his statement only confirmed to her that she had made a terrible mistake coming with him. Daisy being Daisy, decided that enough was enough. If time was running out for her girls, then she had no time to waste.
He was driven back almost into the fire and he smacked his head against the marble, falling to stone hearth. She jumped back, turned and ran to the door. When she opened it, Carrywell was standing there blocking her path.
“I’m afraid you won’t be leaving us just yet Miss Claudette.” The voice belonged to Wormhold. She spun around and he was smiling, still sitting on the hearth.
“Close the door Carrywell.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice and Daisy May was once more alone with Wormhold in the Library. Daisy May Coppertop was not thwarted just yet. She stamped up to him and plucked a large poker from its holder by the fireplace and raised it threateningly.
“You bastard!”
“Tsk Tsk Daisy May, clean out your mouth with soap.”
She swung the poker and stopped short of his face. He didn’t flinch. Daisy flicked her wrist and pressed the tip of the poker to his throat.
“I’ll run you through I swear.”
She was flushed, angry, like the little angry girl she once was, brave to the core, fearless now, prepared to do whatever it took to get her girls back. Wormhold rose up on his elbows and pressed his throat against the poker.
“You think you want to kill me? You think you can? Go right ahead Daisy May Coppertop. Do your worst.”
He smiled and it felt like he could see right into her soul. Daisy thought about it as she stared into his eyes. This man was so very strange. She dropped the poker and walked away. Daisy lowered herself into the big leather chair just beside the fire and looked into the flames. She was instantly deflated and Wormhold thought, defeated.
He was now in charge and he knew it. He could take this anywhere he wanted. Daisy May Coppertop had lost. He hoisted himself to the chair opposite and rubbed his throat where Daisy had held the poker.
“You are a brave woman Daisy.”
She looked at him with a mix of hatred and despair in her eyes.
“Where are my girls?” It was all she wanted to know now. Wormhold answered her honestly.
“I have no idea.”
She glared at him, demanding more.
“Really, my two boys will stay guarding them for as long as they don’t do anything stupid. It is up to them. If they run… well you’ve been there before.”
“I escaped.”
“True Daisy May, but you are special.” He seemed to believe what he said.
“My girls are special.” She spoke with less assurance than she wanted.
Wormhold considered her. She refused to be pushed around. Daisy was special alright.
“You still haven’t pressed me.”
“I don’t care why you brought me here. I don’t want any answers. I just want to take my girls and go home.”
Wormhold sighed. This was not going as planned and she was forcing his hand.
“You are Claudette.” He waited.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He waved his hand about the room.
“This place, it was to be yours. Where do you think you are Daisy?”
“Don’t
you mean Claudette?”
“To everyone here, you are Claudette. To me I know you are not. This is Fairly Hall like I said.”
“It can’t be.” Daisy was very definite and had no intention of accepting his logic. She was convinced it was nothing more than some kind of trickery.
“Oh but it is. We travelled further than you think. How is your headache?”
Daisy hadn’t thought much about it but since they entered the underground tunnel, her head had thump-thumped with a loud uncomfortable sound. It had become background noise by this stage, but it was still there. How did he know?
“Look around you Daisy May. You and I have travelled a long way. All you see is place when you travel. This place was always here. I’m not restricted by place. Neither are you. Have you never thought that you are somehow different Daisy?”
“You are telling me that I am in a different time and place?”
“No you are in a different place but in the same place. Claudette never lived here but her picture hangs in the hall. All my people know who you are”
Daisy felt dizzy. The sound in her head grew louder and louder still. It was hard to think straight. Nothing was making sense to her. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands to her temples in the hope that it would go away. When she opened her eyes, Wormhold was upon her. He was right there, inches from her face. His contorted twisted features had returned. The half-faced gory mess that was once a face slavered about her.
He grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Wormhold pinned her hands behind her back. Daisy struggled against his might but she couldn’t break free from his grip. The man possessed such great strength. He waltzed her back across the room until he pressed her to the wall. The smell from his mouth made her feel nauseous. She wanted to be sick. Daisy May could feel his body crushing against her. Wormhold spoke to her in a breathy, low growl almost.
“You belong with me. You are mine. To think you almost crushed me and here you are you foul little wench, wasting my time. I thought you had power over me but now I know the truth. You are nothing.”
His vile, purple-black tongue rolled about the space where his mouth and lips should have been as he spoke. Daisy thought she would pass out such was the pressure of his body crushing her against the wall. She felt dizzy. Once again the thump, thump, thump sound in her head grew in volume. It was unbearable. Every sense she had was being overwhelmed. Wormhold filled her vision and his stench took her breath away. The sound in her head crushed all thought and his mass pressing on her, made her extremities tingle with pain. He pushed the thing that should have been a mouth against her lips and she could taste his foulness as his beastly tongue tried to enter he mouth.
He released her from his grip and stood back. But the relief was only temporary. He lashed out, slapping her across the face and sending Daisy tumbling to the floor. He had surely gone mad. A wild crazed look ran through his eyes. Wormhold pounced upon Daisy May. He straddled her as she lay on the floor and wrapped one huge hand around her throat.
Wormhold began to squeeze. He slowly applied pressure in tiny increments as he seemed to enjoy watching her struggle for breath. She tried to pull his arm away but it was like an ancient oak that had stood tall for centuries, solid straight and unmoving. Daisy wriggled beneath his weight but he was impossible to shift.
Her head felt as though it might explode with pressure, she could hear the sound of her own wheeze as she gasped for air. Somehow she caught a tiny stream of air still through the pressure of his hand but then he applied a little more pressure and it stopped. There was nothing coming through now. Daisy felt sure she would die this way, never knowing why, never learning the truth.
The sound grew louder in her head. It was like one massive heart beat only she knew it was something else. Thump thump thump it went and the world began to spiral in her vision. Thump……..thump, it slowed as she stared into Wormhold’s horrible eyes. Thump, it went and her vision clouded over, her chest filled with the screaming pain of desperation as her lungs pleaded for air. Thump, the sound of a massive timpani drum in her head, beating out her last breath. She closed her eyes as Wormhold squeezed a little tighter.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE – CARRYWELL
Charity Carrywell was twenty-seven years old when she married and took the name her husband possessed with pride. Reginald was a peculiar man and not what she had hoped for in a husband. He was odd in many ways but mostly he was a bore. Reginald Carrywell had worked in Fairly Hall since he was a boy and had become pretty much part of the furniture.
The master of the house was a mean, beastly man as far as Charity was concerned. He never as much as acknowledged any of the staff, unless it was to issue an order or have them carry out some duty or other. There were occasional rumours about Mister Wormhold but there were rumours spoken in a hushed tone for the most part. Staff had come and gone over the years and the ones that departed, usually left pretty much immediately after they had crossed paths with Wormhold.
No one spoke to him unless to answer a question and everyone without exception, avoided direct eye contact with the man. It was a house that felt like all who lived within its walls, lived in fear. It was strange therefore, that some had worked there all their working lives. There was a common thread among the long term staff and that was absolute obedience. Reginald was above all else, obedient to the master.
Wormhold was seldom there in any case and when he wasn’t around, the whole atmosphere in the house lightened. The workers were all well catered for in a time of hardship for others, so better to put up with a few weeks each year when Wormhold possessed their every moment, than to take their chances in the world outside. It was a small price to pay.
Charity was different. Reginald had courted her, a woman almost left on the shelf at her age. Her father clinging to life pleaded with her to accept his proposal should it come, for they all knew in advance that it surely must? It was her last chance. That fact was something everyone was painfully aware of and if she didn’t marry Reginald, it would probably be too late. Her parents knew it and in truth Charity knew it, but it was more a case of her resigning to her fate rather than embracing her destiny.
Reginald was not the man of her dreams. He was not the romantic type. Reginald was a practical man, much older, steady and ordered in everything he did. Indeed it was these qualities that kept him in good stead with the master of Fairly Hall.
On their wedding night he came to her bed, blew out the candle and engaged her in an act that poor Charity could not believe was the thing she had heard so much about. It was a near non-event short, unpassionate and decidedly unremarkable. She had dreams of love and romance but instead she got a functional husband who kept a roof over her head and perhaps no more.
Eventually she began to look around for fun. She would laugh and joke with the other women of the house when Wormhold was not around of course and she began to openly flirt with other men, more to relieve her boredom than anything else. It was her hope that such actions might spark some life into her disinterested husband and maybe even some passion.
She got a reaction alright but it was not one that she had anticipated. Mr. Wormhold called her to his study one evening and when she arrived, he rose and instructed her to follow him. Surprised, she did as she was asked. He had never directly spoken with her before that day. Outside he led her to the stables and when she entered, Charity found her husband standing quite still waiting for her in the half light. It was all very unusual. Wormhold spoke, demanding action.
“Well man what are you waiting for?”
What followed was unthinkable. Reginald walked straight up to his wife and she could see the fury in his eyes. The man had said nothing to Charity about his distress at her flirtations, but he had confided in the master of the house. Her husband first struck her across the face with the back of his hand. That first blow was shocking but what followed was more than unexpected, it was unthinkable. He stripped her naked and proceeded to beat her quite viciously while Wormho
ld stood by and watched. Charity begged and pleaded with him to stop but he never spoke and the more she begged, the more violently he beat her. By the time he had finished with her, Charity was black and blue. She lay crying and in agony in the filth of the stables and Reginald simply walked away without saying a single word to her.
When he stormed out she was left alone with the strange man who ruled their small little world. Wormhold stood above her. The shame of her nakedness and his prying eyes were almost worse than the physical beating that she had suffered. She rolled onto her side and tried to cover her nakedness, but Wormhold placed his huge booted foot on her shoulder and used it to push her onto her back. She had no idea what he wanted and like her husband, he never spoke. He just stood there, humiliating her with his eyes and then simply turned and left her alone and crying in the filth and dark.
There was no doubting he was the master of his world and as a small powerless cog in that world Charity Carrywell had been taught a brutal and vile lesson by the master of humiliation. If she were to live under his roof, she would be under his control. Wormhold kept his staff in order. Everyone and everything had a place. He couldn’t allow Carrywell’s errant wife to disturb the peace.
Beyond that day, Charity was a changed woman. She hated her husband and she despised the beast that ran the house. For his part, Reginald became more and more dominant. Their love life, if that was the right expression, became more than an unpleasantness as Reginald began to assert new demands in the bedroom. They stopped speaking altogether except where necessity demanded and behind her still, calm demeanour, Charity plotted her escape from Fairly Hall. It seemed impossible but she contemplated more than plotted and dreamed of the day she might escape her miserable life. Although she tried not to allow the thought in, at the back of her mind she was frightened her misery would be with her until the end.
When she saw Wormhold bring Miss Claudette into the library, instinct told her that something was not right. She stole away to the room opposite and watched her husband come and go before finally standing like a sentry outside the door. She heard the noise when Daisy knocked Wormhold to the floor and she saw her pull open the door and how her husband blocked her escape. It sent a chill through her as she recalled the cruelty of the night in the stables.