I suppose this was meant to alleviate my concern, but it only made me feel very sorry for Lily. If what she said were true, then our last visit must have taken place years ago. She seemed much the same as before—but then the dead could not be expected to age—regal, beautiful, but with a solemn undercurrent of fragility, as if the weight of her own virtues might cause her to collapse.
Paul and James looked in my direction and then back to their mother, sensitive to the subtle power struggle embedded in our exchange. I was again conscious of the silver cross hanging from my neck, completely useless against the decidedly un-supernatural force of Lily Darrow’s verbal persuasion.
“Then I suppose it’s not a problem.”
“Splendid. Would you care for a tour?” It wasn’t a question. She twirled on the spot and waved her arms at the shelves of books. “This is the library, naturally. Charlotte, you’re more than welcome to use it whenever you’d like, but do be careful. The books here have a reputation for their cunning. Some readers enter for an evening’s diversion and are never heard from again.”
“Mmm.” I could not stop myself from delivering a rather patronizing smile, but the other woman failed to notice.
“At the top of the library is Mr. Whatley’s study. As I said, he is the master of the house, and always very busy. Do not disturb him unless you’ve been invited to do so. I expect you’ll be meeting him soon enough.” Lily looked away from us for a moment and seemed to flinch, but it was a quick movement, and I could not be sure that it wasn’t caused by something mundane like a speck of dust caught in her eye. I nearly asked about Mr. Whatley and his connection to our hostess, but I held my tongue. That was a conversation that did not need to take place in front of the children, who looked up at their mother with rapt attention and an almost luminous affection. There was not a moment when one of them wasn’t holding her hand or placing his forehead against her. I did not even toy with the idea of discouraging that sort of behavior. If my mother had suddenly returned from the dead, I would most likely do the same, so long as my mother still looked as graceful and alive as the former mistress of Everton.
Lily swept out of the library, the boys trailing behind her. I followed suit, and as I struggled to keep up with them, I was overcome by the suspicion that the day was going to feel much longer than it actually was. As we passed the large oval windows in the hallway, I took the opportunity to survey the estate. There were hills in the distance, speckled with thin, barren trees. A light mist roiled close to the ground, and far off a stark, short metal gate marked the edge of the estate.
We continued down the hallway and turned a corner at a marble sculpture of some amorphous, many-headed creature with knots of tentacles twisting out from both ends of a sleek, tubular body. I was glad when the boys passed it without really seeing it, as it was the sort of thing that would give James nightmares, if I didn’t suffer from them first. I suddenly wished that I had brought some holy water from St. Michael’s Church. Even if it were useless, it might have improved my appraisal of the situation I had allowed myself and the children to fall into.
Lily opened a set of large doors trimmed in gold leaf and took us inside a cavernous ballroom lined with rough stone pillars that could have been plucked from the bowels of the earth. The floor was a smooth black and white marble chessboard. The walls were gilded in silver and set with exotic glittering jewels of every imaginable color. Red velvet curtains clung to the sides of the windows.
“We don’t entertain nearly as much as we’d like.” Her voice echoed through the massive chamber. I estimated that Everton would fit comfortably within the ballroom twice over. “But we expect to hold a ball sometime in the near future. Have you learned to dance yet?” She lifted James into her arms and swung him through the air. He threw back his head and giggled with abandon.
Paul looked at her strangely. “Father hasn’t held any parties.”
His mother set James back down on the floor and seemed to notice that both boys were dressed all in black, still mourning the death that hadn’t taken.
“Yes, of course. How callous of me.”
“Can’t we bring Father with us?”
She was quick to respond. “It’s quite out of the question, and any mention of this place will close it off forever.”
Paul stepped toward me, perhaps taken aback by the unpleasant reminder that mothers could be bossy.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” James said. “We can keep a secret. Paul brought a hedgehog into the house and kept it in the wardrobe for a whole week before Mrs. Norman found it and screamed like a girl, but I didn’t tell a soul.”
Lily patted her younger son on the head, visibly aware of the emotional divide that had appeared between her two children. “Thank you, James. Shall we continue?” She led us out of the ballroom and into a labyrinth of tight, narrow corridors, twisting and turning through the house, past the dining hall and the kitchens, the parlor, the greenhouse, the craft room, the baths, until the children were lagging as far behind as I was, perspiring and out of breath. When she realized she was twenty feet ahead of everyone else, Lily stopped and folded her hands with the graciousness of every great hostess. “As you can see, the house is rather large. Perhaps we should survey the grounds?”
I began to sigh, feeling the burn of exhaustion in my legs, but masked it with a carefully timed cough. Lily placed an embroidered silk handkerchief into my hand. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, thanks. It must be dusty,” I answered, and when she looked personally affronted, “in my room at Everton. With my schedule I’m afraid I’ve let it become a bit untidy.”
Lily pursed her lips and turned to face the wall behind us. Much like every other room in the house, it was paneled with wooden rectangles of various sizes. She pressed against one the size of a small door, and it swung away to reveal a stable with a gray open carriage. A silver horse was attached to the reins, its sleek body covered not in hair but in flower petals.
The boys both rushed over to the animal while I fingered the other wall panels in the hallway.
I pressed against a smaller one, and it clicked open to display a stuffed miniature satyr perched in a birdcage. “You’re living in a cabinet of curiosities.”
“But in a cabinet of curiosities, things stay in one place. The House of Darkling is always shifting to provide you with the things you want most.” She said this without any inflection in her voice, her eyes drifting from me to her children. James patted the horse on its flank while Paul ran his fingers gently over the delicate petals that sprouted out of its skin.
“His name is Specter,” Lily said softly.
The name was very appropriate. The animal was like something out of a dream, tall and ethereal, glowing like the perpetual moon that hung low in the sky above. Specter snorted and nodded at the carriage.
The seats were thickly padded and covered in a soft, smooth material that looked like leather but felt like velvet. James sat snugly against his mother, and across from them Paul, back to his sullen, gloomy self, sat as far away from me as he could manage. The carriage set off through the dark interior of the house, exiting beside the orchard.
As we rounded the side of Darkling, the fruit trees fell away and a large pond became visible in the distance. A lonely tree jutted out over the water. A rowboat drifted listlessly from a small, battered dock on the length of rope that tied it in place. The water at the center of the pond suddenly began to bulge with the release of air bubbles, but no one emerged from beneath the surface. I warmed myself against the chill night air, and despite himself Paul scooted closer to my end of the carriage.
The front of the great house was naturally more elaborate than the back. A circular driveway framed a fountain unlike anything I had ever seen before. Metal rods protruded out of a dark hole in the earth, all of them different heights, while pale blue swaths of liquid light bounced from one pole to another, c
ascading back into the black pit in a shower of electric sparks.
“That’s the Star Fountain,” Lily explained.
“It’s beautiful. What is it made out of?” I asked.
“Stars, of course.”
“Of course.” I could not take my eyes off the fountain. It was like having the creation of the universe in the middle of one’s yard. Just who was this Mr. Whatley?
Specter trotted diligently away from the house, leading us over dark green hills flecked with drops of dew. We passed a squat iron fence that ran the length of the property, barely tall enough to keep out small animals. Lily observed it with narrowed eyes as she addressed her sons. “Stay back from the fence, and under no circumstances are you to leave the property.”
“Why not, Mother?”
“The neighbors don’t care for humans.”
A half mile away, the fence became a formidable, ornate gate twined with ivy. It was closed. A thick fog roiled ominously just beyond the property line. James pointed it out to his mother. “It’s just like in the orchard. Does it go all the way back to Everton?”
“No.” She did not elaborate any further, despite a lingering look of curiosity on her younger son’s face. But Specter whinnied, and James forgot all about it. Paul did not. He looked toward me with a dark expression.
“Do you ever leave this place, Lily?” I asked as carefully as one might speak to a dangerous animal that was at an advantage by having very large, sharp teeth.
“No. The estate is safe because that is what Mr. Whatley wishes it to be. The place beyond the gates is not quite as predictable.”
“And what place might that be?” I asked.
Before she could answer, Specter returned us to the front of the house. She looked as if she were about to reply, but then thought better of it and stepped down out of the carriage.
“I’m sure you must all be exhausted. Let me show you to your rooms.” Lily entered the house and led us up the grand staircase, crossing over the rings of the floor tile, from sunrise to sunset, into the eastern wing of the mansion.
She took us into a room adorned in red and gold, with two beds set against separate alcove windows, two wardrobes, and a coffin-size toy chest. “Boys, you’ll be sleeping here.”
James jumped onto one of the beds, claiming it as his own.
Paul walked over to one of the windows and peered outside. “Does the sun ever come up here?”
Lily shut the drapes and turned Paul to the bed. “There’s nothing more beautiful than the night sky.”
The boys undressed, and I hung their clothes in the wardrobes for when we would return home. Whenever that might be, I thought cynically.
Lily handed the boys fresh sets of pajamas. “I picked these out myself.”
James pulled his over his head immediately, but Paul stared at the clothing with suspicion. “From where?” he asked.
Lily wore a bewildered expression. “A catalog. You’ve grown very curious in the past year.”
“I’ve grown up a lot in the past year.”
His mother smiled weakly and kissed him on the forehead. “Would you like a bedtime story?”
However much Paul had grown up, it was not enough for him to reject being read a bedtime story curled next to his mother. He jumped into bed next to his younger brother and waited for Lily to join them. I immediately felt out of place, but was not sure why. It could not have been that I was jealous. Why should I have been? I wanted the boys to be closer to their mother. That was why I had gone against my better judgment and taken them back to the House of Darkling. That was the point. But suddenly I felt as if I were intruding upon something very private and intimate. I rose to leave the room, but Lily asked me to stay. She ran her fingers through James’s hair and did not look up. I sat on the bed opposite the Darrows and waited for her to begin. She reached across the nightstand and grabbed hold of a knob set into the wall. An alcove swung open, and from it she extracted a book entitled Laurel Parker Wolfe’s Tales of The Ending. She began to read:
The Sleeping King
Once upon a time, there was a castle in the sky and nothing else. From every turret and tower, only darkness could be seen. This suited the king quite well, for while his kingdom consisted of only the castle and the void, he had very few responsibilities. He was very old and tired, being immortal and having been king since before the beginning of Everything, and he had little to do but sleep in his chambers. But this was often easier said than done, for the king had five young sons, who took great pleasure in having noisy brawls in the stairwells.
One day, after the king had been stirred from an especially good dream, he banished the five princes from the castle and forced them out into the void. The princes found this to be a most unfortunate fate, for there was nothing but blackness and oblivion, and it was certainly very dull. For a long time they amused themselves with more fights and brawls, but after an aeon or two they grew tired of even this diversion and stood around in the dark looking for something to do.
The oldest of the princes was eager to return to the castle, for there were comfortable beds and large banquets every evening. He tried to enter, but the doors were firmly shut against him, and the servants had been given strict instructions from the king not to allow the princes back inside.
“We must find a way to appease Father,” he said, and after he and his brothers had thought long and hard, they decided that the best way to win favor with the king was to flatter him with achievements and gifts. The oldest prince, having come up with the idea, was the first to attempt to win his father’s forgiveness.
“I shall light the void for him, so that he might see his kingdom.” With that, he began to cry, and every place his tears fell a star was born. He plucked out his eyes and threw them as far as he could, leaving behind a trail of glittering galaxies. When he was finished, he had his brothers place him beneath his father’s tower, for he could no longer see, and he called out to the king. “Father, see what I have done for you!”
The old king, who had enjoyed an unbroken sleep much longer than he was used to, came to the balcony and was blinded by the unusual brightness.
“Bah! Now there is work to be done! Someone must keep the stars in the sky, and take them away when they burn out! Go, my son, and tend to your creation.”
The oldest prince was most dismayed, but did as he was told and left to lord over the stars.
The second oldest prince, being much less intelligent than his older brother, learned nothing from this exchange. As soon as his father went back to sleep, he declared his own ambition to win his father’s approval. “I shall make a ground, so that he may travel his kingdom and have something to do besides sleep!”
With that, he tore the bones from his body and ground them to dust, scattering them across the void and creating land. When he was finished, he had his brothers place him beneath his father’s tower, for he could no longer walk, and he called out to the king. “Father, see what I have done for you!”
The old king, who had only just managed to get back to sleep, was unpleasantly reminded of how life had been when his sons were allowed to live in the castle, and was hardly in the mood to be impressed. He came to the balcony and was shocked by the vastness of his kingdom.
“Bah! Now there is work to be done! Someone must scout the land and find out where it ends! Go, my son, and tend to your creation.”
The second oldest prince was most dismayed, but did as he was told and crawled across the land.
The middle brother was a very arrogant creature and, having lived in the shadow of his older brothers for so many years, was eager to succeed where they had failed. As soon as his father went back to sleep, he began preparations for his own creation.
“I shall make a sea, so that the crashing of the waves might soothe him as he sleeps.” With that, he took a knife and cut deep into his breast. The blood from hi
s body pooled over a portion of the land, until the castle stood on the shore of an immense ocean. When he was finished, he had his brothers place him beneath his father’s tower, for he was very weak, and he called out to the king. “Father, see what I have done for you!”
The old king, who was now growing rather irritable at having been awoken so many times, stomped onto the balcony and was shocked by the appearance of the sea.
“Bah! Now there is work to be done, for the closeness of the water will only bring storms and flooding! Someone must sail the seas and warn us of bad weather! Go, my son, and tend to your creation.”
The middle prince was most dismayed, but did as he was told and traveled across the ocean.
The second youngest brother was more cunning than all the rest, and while his brothers had failed, he had devised a scheme that would not only please his father but also improve his station in life. As soon as the king went back to sleep, he began to set his plan in motion.
“I shall give him subjects, so that they might worship him.” The prince said this with a sly smile, and created the first subjects from his own flesh, until there was nothing left of him but tendon and bone. When he was finished, he had his brother place him beneath his father’s tower, for he was but a skeleton, and he called out to the king. “Father, see what I have done for you!”
The old king was growing angry. He threw himself onto the balcony and was shocked to find that he now had actual subjects to govern.
“Bah! Now there is work to be done!” he exclaimed. But before he could continue, the second youngest son interrupted his father.
“Yes, but I am happy to do it, Father! I will govern your subjects while you sleep!”
The king said nothing for a moment, and then his face twisted into an expression of bemused spite. “Ah, but as I am the king, there is no need for you to concern yourself with governance! Although someone will need to look after my subjects. They are ephemeral things, and even now they are dying. Go, my son, and tend to your creation.”
Charlotte Markham and the House of Darkling Page 9