Twisted Love

by Ophelia Grey

  The rest of the ride, I alternated between reading the book I had brought with me—Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray—and staring out the window at the towns and cities as we passed. Mostly, I liked to watch how quiet the world looked as the rain gently bathed the highways. The time passed much more quickly than I imagined and before I knew it, we were pulling up to the dingy Connecticut bus station. It looked similar to the one in Mercy River, but much bigger and teeming with people.

  I quickly gather my belongings and made my way to the exit, trying my best to elbow any other passengers. Most of the other passengers did not have the same concern, so I was one of the last people to exit and step into the large parking lot.

  A kindly looking older gentleman in a suit caught my eye. He was holding up a sign, so I took a few steps forward to get a better look.

  Grace Martin, the sign said. I sighed in relief that I wouldn’t have to wander through the parking lot until I found my ride.

  “Hello, that’s me,” I said, pointing to the sign and then extending my hand to him.

  “Nice to meet you Grace,” the man replied with a warm smile that reached all the way to the crinkles by his eyes. “Let me help you with those bags.”

  He quickly hoisted up my bag in a feat of strength that surprised me given how slender he was, and walked me to a shiny black limo. He opened the door for me, and then went to put my bags in the trunk.

  “This fancy car is just for picking me up?” I asked incredulously as the driver climbed into the front seat and started the engine.

  “My dear, I think you’ll learn that Blake Harrison expects nothing but the best, at all times, and in all areas.”

  I mused the driver’s words over in my head as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed to my new home for however long I worked there. Surely, Blake Harrison was a generous man, as evidenced by his treatment of me so far. But would I live up to his exacting standards and expectations? I felt a nervous, excited tug in my chest as I thought about meeting my new employer. Whatever happened next, I was now sure that it was going to be a grand adventure.

  Chapter 2.

  I looked up in awe as the house came into sight around the corner. It couldn’t really be called house or even a mansion. It was a castle, a palace from a storybook. The tall, stone walls towered over us, cold and imposing in their beauty. Unruly ivy crawled up the walls, filling in the cracks that age and disrepair had left behind. We pulled off the main road and onto a smaller, gravel road that led to the mansion.

  “Is this the driveway?” I asked the driver in amazement.

  “No, but it is a private road to the Harrison Estate,” the driver replied, pointing to an old metal sign as we drove past.

  “Private Road. All visitors must wait at front gate for entry,” I read, sounding strangely formal. I was still trying to grasp the enormity of my new employer’s wealth. In Mercy River, the wealthiest family owned a horse and had indoor air conditioning and a pool. For my whole life, those three things had always seemed like the height of luxury. This type of wealth had never seemed real. It belonged in fairytales.

  My breath formed shapes on the glass as I pressed my face against the window, staring up at the imposing building as we drew near. As we got closer, the tall wall surrounding the castle blocked out most of my view. The stone walls shot high into the sky and several rounded and pointed turrets peaked out of the top. The sloped roof was a deep red, set off by the grey of the stone. Tall, slender windows peppered the heavy stone. I counted four stories of windows as we drove close, plus an additional level in each turret.

  In my mind, it was the castle from The Count of Monte Cristo. I imagined a grand party, my employer as the mysterious hero. It was silly, but who else would live in an actual castle?

  An ornate gate that looked like it had once been sparkling and manned by guards and servants loomed above us. Now, the twisted iron looked old and dull and the local plants had taken the opportunity to climb over the ornate metal.

  The driver pulled up to the gate and pulled up a small, rusted panel covering some buttons. He keyed in the code.

  “You’ll be getting your own code. He turned the wheel as the gate creaked open. “We all have unique ones so he can monitor comings and goings.”

  I nodded as if it made sense. In a way, maybe it did. A rich man needed to take more precautions than a poor man, I assumed. I couldn’t stop the tingling worry in the back of my head that perhaps my new employer was paranoid or controlling. He surely had great wealth, to live in such an estate, but the closer I got, the more I could see the cracks on the surface. The place was falling into disrepair and surely there was some reason behind it.

  Those thoughts vanished as we pulled up to the round driveway. The gravel circled around a great fountain in the center, which splashed water over huge statues of horses rearing in a large basin. The sight stole my breath and I barely noticed when the car pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. My door was pulled open, yanking me back into the moment. I looked over and saw the driver holding my door open and looking at me with an amused expression.

  “You might never gets used to it,” he gestured for me to exit the car, “I certainly haven’t, even after all these years.” His expression suddenly grew cloudy, but quickly lifted as I stepped out onto the driveway and gaped at the doors in front of me.

  The front entrance was huge. Each door was large enough for three or four people to walk through abreast. Delicate etchings of ivy, flowers, and wild animals danced around the heavy wood, and heavy, ornate metal held the pieces together.

  My driver had taken my suitcase from the trunk and was carrying it up the front steps. I grabbed my purse and scurried after him, suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed in my jeans and lavender cardigan. I clutched my purse nervously as the driver rang the bell and we waited for the giant doors to open. We didn’t have to wait long. Within seconds, I heard the harsh squeal of metal on marble as the door inched open. I glanced inside, expecting to see lights shimmering on dazzling crystal surfaces. Instead, I squinted into darkness. As the sunlight moved through the widening crack, I saw a tiny old woman standing next to the large, burly man pushing the door open.

  I almost laughed at the sight of the pair. The man looked like a Russian bodyguard, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. His hair was cropped close and his skin was pale and freckled. The old woman was tiny in comparison to him. She was wearing a long black skirt and a white ruffled blouse, like an old-fashioned maid. In contrast to the man’s expressionless face, the old woman smiled warmly at me and hobbled forward as soon as the door was open wide enough for her to pass through.

  “Welcome to the Harrison Estate, Grace. We are so happy to have you. Please, come in.” She reached her tiny, wrinkled hand to touch my cheek, and then turned back to the large man at the door. “Marshall, take her luggage to her room and get it settled for her please. I’m going to show our new guest around.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I felt at ease as she threaded her skinny arm through mine and led me through the front door into the darkened entryway.

  I glanced around the huge space, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. The floor was a dark, polished marble that shone despite the lack of light. A huge crystal chandelier hung above us, unlit but still glittering against the high ceiling. Beautiful wooden doors lined the hallways on either side of us, but what caught my eye was the stairway straight ahead. It was huge, leading up to a landing and then branching out to either side, leading up in two spirals to the balcony of the second floor. The banisters were carved in beautiful, intricate patterns, spiraling and swirling as if made of water instead of wood and metal.

  “He helped design it himself, you know,” the old woman sighed.

  “Mr. Harrison designed this staircase?” I reached out to touch the smooth wood. “It’s…incredible.” I found myself at a loss for words as I looked at the intricate designs.

  “Yes, and many other parts
of the Estate,” the old woman replied wistfully. “His wife as well, when she was still…here. She was a brilliant artist once.” The old woman’s voice broke as she spoke and tears sprung into her cloudy eyes.

  I looked down, feeling sad and awkward. I assumed there was a sad story behind my employer’s wife’s death and it didn’t seem appropriate to pry right away. I certainly didn’t want to see my new friend so upset.

  “What does Mr. Harrison do now?” I asked.

  “He still owns the company, of course.” The old woman wiped at her eyes. “He hasn’t been so involved these past years with the creative decisions, but he wants to take back the helm. That’s why you are here, dear. You will assist him in all the small things that need to be done to get everything back to how they should be.” The smile had returned to her small, wrinkled face. “Oh, goodness. I don’t think I properly introduced myself. I’m Mrs. Jane Caulder but you can call me Jane.”

  I shook the bony hand she extended to me gently, worried I might break her fragile little bones. “I’m Grace Martin. People call me Grace or Gracie though.” I thought over everything Jane had just told me. “What kind of company does Mr. Harrison own?” I asked.

  “You don’t know?” She looked shocked.

  I felt a warm blush hit my cheeks. I realized I probably should have researched my employer more before coming here. I had just been so caught up in the idea of leaving, that the details had seemed unimportant.

  “He owns Harrison Media, one of the largest advertising firms in the world. He built it up from scratch, you know,” she continued, sounding like a proud mother. “He became a billionaire so quickly. It was all just a fairytale for a while there.” Her voice trailed off wistfully. “Here, let me give you a quick tour. I’m sure you are tired from traveling.”

  I followed Jane down the long, wide hall. It only seemed to grow longer as we walked. We finally rounded a corner and came to a huge set of double doors.

  “This is the grand ballroom,” Jane pronounced, pulling one door open slightly so we could peak inside. It was a huge room, with polished wood paneled floors and a high, arched ceiling. It was perfectly designed for huge parties like the ones in the stories I read.

  I could imagine Victorian ladies and gentlemen waltzing around the room to music pouring from the grand piano that was now pushed against the wall and covered in a white cloth. There were some chairs that were covered as well, but the parts that peaked through the heavy white coverings looked luxurious with satin, velvet, woods, and metal. I wanted to pull off all the coverings and see what the room was supposed to look like.

  Jane closed the door quickly and led me down another hallway. We walked through an archway to the left and right into a big, homey-looking kitchen. The blue and white tiles looked crisp and clean next to the unfinished wood trim. Big windows gave a spectacular view of the beautifully manicured herb garden and let in lots of light. It was filled with huge, state-of-the-art equipment, but the kitchen was the first room in the castle that I didn’t find intimidating.

  “You can eat all your meals here,” Jane gestured to the big wooden table. “Tammy, the cook, makes breakfast and dinner, but you’re always free to come make something or grab whatever you like.” She leaned over to whisper in my ear conspiratorially. “I don’t much care for the way she makes salmon, so I always make something else those nights.”

  I couldn’t help laughing as Jane smiled guiltily at me.

  “But everything else she makes is fantastic,” the old woman assured me. “Come, let me show you a few more rooms before you get settled in for the night.”

  We wound down a few more hallways, Jane pointing out the library, an indoor swimming pool, and several other rooms that I lost track of by the time we reached the end of the long hallway. We reached a smaller back stairway and I walked slowly next to Jane as she carefully climbed each stair, resting after every few steps. Once we reached the top, Jane pointed out a large wooden door.

  “That’s Mr. Harrison’s study. Never go in there without permission,” she warned.

  I nodded, hoping I could remember which door it was in this maze of hallways. We rounded another corner and Jane pointed out her quarters.

  “Come see me anytime,” she added cheerfully.

  Finally, we reached a small alcove at the end of the hall. “This is your room.” Jane pushed the door open and let me see my new room.

  I felt giddy as I stared into the spacious room, taking in the luxury I had never dreamed of before now. The room was small compared to many in the mansion, but it was far bigger than my bedroom in my parents’ house, or any other room in their house for that matter. The wood floors shone brightly, and the walls had a fresh coat of light blue paint. The queen-sized bed was up against a large window that looked out over a small pond and into the rolling hills and forest beyond.

  “We spent a little time preparing for your visit,” Jane admitted as I ran my fingers over the bright new paint. “Things around here aren’t as perfect as they once were, but we tried to make it feel like home.” She pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “That’s your own bathroom. I stocked it with towels and some products, but if you need anything you just let me know. I’ll let you get settled in.” She gave my hand a small squeeze and hobbled back out, closing the door behind her.

  I stood in my new room, almost afraid to touch anything. Everything looked so clean and perfect. The bed was neatly made, with layers of different blankets and an abundance of pillows. There was a polished wood desk in one corner, with a big, comfortable armchair pulled up nearby. I saw that Marshall had left my small suitcase in the far corner by my dresser. I decided that I might as well unpack my few belongings before settling in for the night.

  Once my clothes were put away, I opened the door to the bathroom. It was far bigger than I had imagined and the floors and walls were covered in small, sparkling white tiles. I abandoned my plan for a quick shower as soon as I laid eyes on the large, rounded tub. Jane had left a big bottle of rose-scented bubble bath on the edge and I was ready for a long, luxurious bubble bath.

  I lowered myself into the mass of bubbles and sighed as the delicious floral scent hit my nose. I was submerged up to my neck in the warm, relaxing water. I decided that no matter what tasks my new employer had for me, this experience was worth it. I cupped a handful of the opalescent bubbles and blew on them, watching a few take off into the air and drift around the bathroom like tiny fairies. Everything about the Harrison Estate was magical, I thought as I finally pulled myself from the warm tub and wrapped a soft, fluffy towel around my body.

  I fell asleep quickly that first night, curled up on the huge comfortable bed in my ratty old flowered pajamas. I was in a deep, dream-less sleep when the sound of screaming jolted me awake. At first, I thought it had been part of a nightmare, but then I heard it again, a deep, almost groan-like scream, followed by the sound of something shattering.

  I gripped the blanket tightly, unsure if I should hide or go out and investigate. After a minute, I decided to investigate and make sure everyone was alright. If there was an intruder, I shouldn’t just hide. I lowered my feet to the cold, wooden floor and walked quietly as I could to my door. I cringed as the door squeaked slightly as I pushed it ajar just enough to slip through. The hallway was dark and empty, so I tiptoed further down, towards the direction from which the sounds had come.

  I kept to the wall as I moved closer to the landing where the hallways intersected. I finally reached the corner and peaked my head around carefully. I jumped back in fear as I saw a large, dark, hulking figure approach. I stumbled backwards, suddenly regretting my choice to leave the safety of my bedroom. The figure came around the corner as I finally found my footing and was ready to run.

  “What are you doing out here?” The figure hissed at me.

  He finally stepped into the rectangle that was illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the window and I saw the close-cropped hair and pale skin. I let out a breath I hadn
’t even realized I had been holding. It was Marshall, the bodyguard I had met earlier in the day.

  “I heard sounds,” I explained. “Screaming and something breaking. I came out to see what was going on,” I glanced back down the hallways nervously.

  “You heard nothing,” Marshall replied gruffly. “Stop playing detective. Go to bed. No more wandering around at night.”

  I was too confused to reply and didn’t resist when Marshall took my arm, gently to his credit, and led me back down the hallway to my bedroom door. He waited there until I walked back inside and closed the door behind me.

  I slept fitfully the rest of the night, tossing and turning as the echoes of screams played and replayed in my head. The magical spell of the mansion was broken and I saw that there were cracks in the perfect façade. I felt relief as the first rays of morning sun finally broke through the darkness and poured through my window, bathing me in the safety of their golden glow.