The North Sea House: a gothic romance

by Camille Oster

  Sophie was laughing next to him. It seemed this man was her mission for this week here, but by the look of him, he wasn't falling over himself to please her. A darned difficult man to read.

  "Well, now that you are endowed with a fine house," Lewis said, "I predict you will be married within a year. The doyennes will be swarming around you."

  "God forbid," Archie groaned.

  "He'll get married just to keep them away from him. It's remarkable how unpopular you become the moment the ink dries on your marital license."

  "How are you, Horace?" Vivienne asked as she approached him leaning against the wall. A drink sat in his hand too.

  "I really don't like sherry," he said. "It's not to my taste. I prefer port. You know the region where it's from is called Oporto. Strange to name a region after what is produces, don't you think? In that case, we'd be called Wheat."

  "Maybe Wheatley," she replied.

  "Wheateby up here in the North. They have some interesting flora up this way," Horace added.

  "I didn't see much of a garden."

  "The wind and the salt would be too much for most garden plants. It would take something very hardy to grow out here."

  "Probably goes for the people too," Lewis said as he approached and placed his arm around Horace's shoulders. "Do you think Archie will survive the tribulations?"

  "Archie will be fine," Vivienne said.

  "Provided he doesn't get drunk and fall off a cliff."

  "Don't," Vivienne warned. "Such an awful thing to say."

  "Archie is a sensible chap," Horace assured her.

  Vivienne looked over at Archie, chatting animatedly with John. He was so pleased with this good fortune that had come his way. Inheriting this estate. As a second son, his brother was in line to inherit his family estate, and now here he was, established with an estate before his brother was. It was good luck, indeed. It might well be true that he would be married within a year. Young ladies who would not heed him in the least before would be very interested now. Not Sophie, though, who had her sights set on a larger prize. Unfortunately such was the way of the world.

  As for herself, Vivienne couldn't even conceive of marriage. If at all possible, she wanted to do so for love. It was always a possibility and she hadn't given up on it. But most viewed marriage as a business contract to determine their position and status for the future. Such things drove the society they lived in, and there was no point denying it.

  Chapter 3

  THE DINING ROOM DID have a large portrait of Cordelia Trubright, wearing black silks of mourning, looking rather grim. It really was as if she was surveying the dining room with contempt. The table was laid out with fine bone china and silver. Candles were lit along its length and in brass standing candleholders along the walls. The staff did know how to prepare for a dinner party, at least.

  Vivienne approached the group milling by the table, which included John, Archie, Sophie and Horace.

  "I understand Jenkins has managed to scrounge up some wine bottles somewhere. Probably moldering in the cellar."

  "That is where you want to find wine, isn't it?" Sophie said absently, picking a piece of lint of her cuff. "What are we being served?"

  "I have no idea," Archie admitted.

  "Archie," Sophie chided. "You must direct staff in these matters. Really, they'll get away with murder if you don't keep an eye on them."

  With a shrug, Archie looked bored. "I'm sure they can manage to whip together some supper without me telling them how to do it. They are, after all, professionals at such things."

  "There really is nothing for it, you have to get married. The sooner the better, or this house will be run to the ground—worse than it already is." A look of distaste settled on Sophie's features. "It looks like most of the house hasn't been given a good scrubbing in a decade."

  "Probably hasn't. I suspect my aunt only used the parlor and her bedroom."

  Horace cleared his throat. "It's strange that we build such large houses but never use most of the rooms."

  "It isn't strange at all," Lewis said, approaching the group. "It's so we can show off the size of our entitlement, Horace. How else would we show our importance to our peers if not in useless houses?"

  "One must have room to house one's guests, mustn't one?" Sophie said with a tinkling laugh. "What is the purpose of wealth if not to make one comfortable?"

  "What do you think, Vivienne? You're awfully quiet."

  "I think if one has a house big enough to need staff, one must direct them."

  "Eminently sensible," Archie said. "And a dressing down if I've ever heard one."

  "She's merely saying that you are a man of responsibilities now," Sophie added.

  "I'm starting to wonder if I wasn't better off before?"

  "Miss the bachelor life in London already?" John asked good humoredly.

  "I'm still a bachelor," Archie pointed out.

  "Yes, but for how long?" Lewis teased, but Archie wasn't picking up on it.

  "Ah, Bryn, I think we're all here," Archie said, pleased to end this conversation. "Shall we all seat ourselves?"

  They did as suggested and Vivienne took a seat near the fire, feeling Cordelia Trubright looking down on her. For what purpose would someone put a painting like that in the dining room? Perhaps the woman thought she looked regal.

  "I understand my aunt was a very devout woman," Archie said, apparently reading her thoughts. "No doubt there are Bibles strewn all over the house."

  Jenkins was pouring wine around the table as a maid came in with a large, porcelain soup bowl, which she proceeded to serve one by one into a stack of bowls. Onion soup. It was light, but nicely seasoned. Freshly baked bread accompanied it. There was mostly silence around the room as they ate. Then the young woman returned, carrying a large silver plate of a fish dish. The room filled with the smell of it and the sauce it was cooked in.

  Vivienne's mouth was watering. Traveling promoted an appetite, she had learnt, and appreciated the portion carefully placed on her plate.

  "Caught this afternoon by the fishermen in the nearby village," Jenkins said as he finished serving.

  "It looks splendid," John said.

  Silence settled again on the room for a few moments. The fish was lovely and Vivienne could tell the freshness was well beyond anything they ever got in London. It was really quite noticeable. "I suppose the seafood would be unsurpassed here," she said to the table in general. "The fish is wonderful."

  "Something must make up for being so very far from civilization," Lewis added.

  "I think the house is handsome," Brynnell said after a moment of silence, which was one of the first times Vivienne had heard him speak. "The remoteness has its charms."

  He was leaning back in his chair, taking sips of his wine, finished with his portion of fish. Ate quickly, it seemed, but then he'd been a soldier before his brother had died and handed him the title, and the family estate. John had mentioned it a while back. Funny how he had been a soldier, but the brother was the one who had succumbed. There was no reasoning with fate, at times.

  "Then I shall depend on you to visit this marvelous house every so often," Archie said, raising his glass before taking a sip. "You are always welcome."

  Brynnell nodded his acceptance of the invitation.

  "We should toast to your good fortune," Sophie said and raised her glass.

  "And to poor Miss Trubright’s sad passing from this world," Lewis added.

  They toasted and then drank, before returning to their meals.

  "There are a number of plants that thrive in this climate," Horace started. "Purslanes and hydrangeas do quite well. You could do a relatively handsome garden."

  "Perhaps I will, someday."

  "I could help you, of course."

  "That's a splendid idea, Horace," Lewis said. "Archie would love to plan a garden, being that he is to be all domesticated now." Something unspoken passed between the men, but they didn't share it.

  The maid re
turned with a dish and took it to the serving table to prepare portions. The crockery shook slightly as she carried it. A slice of apple tart was placed down on a dessert plate. It was tasty. Not too sweet, the apples soaked in some kind of liquor. And the sherry was now back, being poured in small glasses around the table.

  As soon as the last person had finished, Archie suggested they retire to the smoking room, leaving her and Sophie to find the salon again.

  "There's something very harsh about this house," Sophie said. "The dark wood everywhere. It really needs to be brightened up."

  Vivienne stifled a yawn. The day was catching up with her, but she couldn't retire and leave Sophie on her own, even as she could barely keep her eyes open. And really, she couldn't tolerate any more sherry.

  "It doesn't suit Archie at all, does it?" Sophie went on. "But then, he has been extremely fortunate in inheriting this house. His prospects weren't all that favorable before. Would you live somewhere like this?"

  "I suppose that depends on the man," Vivienne said. "If I loved him, I wouldn't care where he lived."

  "Ah, the mislaid confidence of youth. Mark my words, love fades, and then you are left with the prospects you traded it for."

  "True love lasts."

  "You are such an idealist. Both you and your brother. I swear you'd both walk off cliffs if we let you."

  A shudder went through Vivienne at the statement. It wasn't true, of course, they were both sensible. Alright, when it came to the women John admired, he wasn't always sensible, but she resented the accusation all the same. John had the best intentions at heart, and the expectations to have a happy marriage. Sophie didn't seem to have that expectation. "Perhaps, but then I hope to find my equal. What could be better than two idealists in love?"

  This seemed to stump Sophie, who had no reply, but was saved from her predicament by the men returning.

  "If you don't mind," Horace said, "I will excuse myself."

  "I think I must retire too," Vivienne said, feeling her exhaustion nip and unable to bear more of Sophie, Lewis and Archie's terse and teasing exchanges with each other.

  Without waiting, she got up to leave. Horace was walking ahead of her up the sweeping staircase. The grand hall was only lit by one candleholder on a side table. The rungs of the staircase left shadows on the wall.

  Uncomfortably, she walked past the suit of armor. While seeming harmless in daytime, they always made her uneasy at night, almost as if she irrationally feared it would move, or raise that massive sword at its side.

  Hurriedly, she walked up the staircase. Horace was no longer in sight and Vivienne turned left down the corridor where her room was. It was darker down the corridor and chilly away from the fires lit in the dining room and salon.

  A crack sounded behind her and she turned to see nothing. Her heart had sped up, but she was being ridiculous, simply reacting to being in a strange house.

  Gauging the distance, she opened her door, finding her room with the fire replenished. It was warm and comfortable now and she slipped inside and locked the door, feeling as if she was shutting her unease outside as well. Where exactly that unease stemmed from, she wasn't sure, but she had never been in a place as remote as this. It really felt as if they were at the very fringe of the country, and in a way, they were. This had to be some of the most sparsely populated parts of England, with its harsh coastline and inclement weather.

  Walking to the window, she saw darkness outside. Cool seeped from the windows. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted and she saw the seascape bathed in moonlight. The wave foam glowing white as it crashed against the earth as if constantly trying to beat its way in.

  Water glittered as it reflected the moon. Everything seemed to be moving, a constant fluidity as if nothing could settle—the sea, the trees, even the curtains slightly as the wind seeped inside the window.

  Drawing them shut, she shut the cold out and returned to the fire. Tiredness nipped at her. It had been a long day and her body was exhausted from the travel and all the new experiences. Tomorrow she would go for a walk, enjoy the sights of the sea. Its vastness and power were a marvel, and she couldn't wait.

  Undressing, she got into bed, pleased to find a hot brick warming it. Someone in this house was doing their best to care for them. Their supper might not have been the height of culinary fashion, but it had been good, tasty food. Archie was a very lucky man, even if some saw only the drawbacks.

  Chapter 4

  THE WIND CAUGHT Vivienne's skirt as she stepped out of the doors from the east facing parlor. It didn't seem to like her bonnet, because it caught like a sail and tugged across her neck until she took it off. The day was a little brighter. Most of the houseguests were still asleep, but she'd woken early and had gone down to breakfast as soon as it was a decent hour to.

  Seagulls squawked and flew backward for a moment as they set off into the wind. In the distance, she could see a fishing boat bobbing on the water. The sky was blue, a few white clouds high above. It wasn't the loveliest of spring days, but it was nice enough to go for a walk. Perhaps this was as pleasant as it got here. Some coastal areas were forever windy, she had heard. Some of the plants suggested so, permanently bent out of shape by ever-present wind.

  With her most sensible shoes on, she set off northward, where a cliff seemed to crop out. It would likely give her a good view up and down the coast, she guessed, which was why she was headed there. Her traveling coat was warm enough to compete with the wind, which smelled fresh and salty. She could definitely smell the salt now.

  The landscape was dramatic and so different from what she was familiar with. It almost seemed like a foreign land. The grass was rough, tussocks of yellow and green. Below was rocky cliffs and small, grey pebble beaches. The water surged in and out, forming white, foamy waves. The sound of them relentless.

  Birds were nesting and flying off, searching for fish. Other than birds, she didn't see many animals. There weren't any fields she could see, no fences keeping livestock in. Perhaps the conditions were too harsh for animals, or maybe Miss. Trubright could not bring herself to engage with managing the land.

  In all honesty, she didn't seem that proficient at managing the house, but that was how things went for many elderly. Large houses were too difficult to manage and slowly sank into disrepair. Archie would have to see to the things that needed attention. Unfortunately, he didn't have a natural talent for such things either. Hopefully he would marry wisely.

  Behind her, she could see the house, like a dark block that seemed drawn out of the rock below. It really was an isolated house. Who had built it and why had they chosen such an inhospitable location? Inhospitable might be a little harsh. The house was sufficiently provisioned, and the views were spectacular if one appreciated seascapes. Artists would likely adore it—the roughness and brutality of the sea. The apparent calm in the distance.

  One had to fear the sea, didn't one? So strong and powerful, so uncaring and indifferent. Vivienne wasn't sure how she felt about the sea. They were just starting to get to know each other, but it wasn't the pleasant seaside she'd seen depicted. This was untamable wildness.

  Reaching the outcrop, she saw the house and more coast that looked very much the same. A beach stretched further north and what looked like a small fishing village. It was miles away. Never had she been able to see as far like she could now. It was hard to tell distances, but it looked very far. Too far to walk.

  Having achieved her aim, she turned back. Even with the cloak, she was starting to get cold. Would need to warm by the fire when she got back to the house. Still, she didn't regret this excursion.

  In some ways, she did like this place. Social conventions and etiquette requirements seemed mute and pointless in this place that was ruled by wild nature. Maybe that was the reason someone had built this house, to be away from the restrictions of society.

  It took a while to get back and her fingers were cold as she reached for the brass door handle to return to the parlor. The warm
th inside stung her fingers and her cheeks burned out of the wind.

  Placing down her bonnet that had proved useless, she walked to the fire and reached her hands forward. She should have taken gloves, but she didn't like gloves unless it was very cold.

  "There you are," John said.

  "I went for a walk. It's a nice day."

  John yawned and sat down on one of the sofas, looking a little worse for wear from the previous night. People and an occasion had always appealed to John, even if he suffered for it the next day. An aching head from sherry couldn't be all that pleasant.

  "What do you think, Viv? If you marry Archie, this place could be yours."

  It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. "I don't think Archie and I would ever fare well. Do you?"

  "I don't know. He's a decent enough chap."

  "Of course." Still, she couldn't imagine Archie as her husband. It was just… too strange. In fact, it was hard to imagine any of her brother's friends in that light.

  "About time," Sophie was heard saying as she walked past the door of the parlor.

  John listened curiously, then started toward the door. "I think someone has arrived."

  For a moment, Vivienne couldn't think who, until she remembered that Sophie's companion was supposed to be coming as well. This was someone she hadn't met. A cousin used to serve as a chaperone for Sophie for events around town, but she'd recently married and was now distracted with her new married life. So this companion had had to be engaged.

  "We lost you somewhere along the way," Sophie said as she stood outside, watching the woman being helped out of the carriage by Jenkins. She carried an embroidered bag and came with a small trunk. Brown curly hair under her bonnet, which she now clutched with a firm hand. From what Vivienne understood, she was a widow, and had need to support herself.

  "It grew so dark, we could not continue. Had to stay the night at an inn."

  "Well, you're here now," Sophie said. "Practically at the end of the world."

  The newcomer, whose name Vivienne was ashamed to have forgotten, looked around at the house, still holding onto her bonnet. "It is beautiful."