by Craig Zerf
It took over fifteen minutes for the Rolls to travel from the gatehouse to the actual mansion. And when they arrived, the sight took Emily’s breath away, and not in a good sense.
The place was like Hogwarts on steroids. It was all towers and flying buttresses and ribbed arches. Intricately mullioned windows sparkled in the wan English sun and literally hundreds of carved grotesques leered down from the roofs and gutters, their faces a panoply of nightmares.
‘So,’ said Nathan. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s very…’ Emily searched for the right words, not wanting to offend before she’d even taken her first step out of the car.
‘It’s a massive pile of crap,’ said Nathan. ‘Looks like every kiddie’s nightmare wrapped up into one gigantic, cold, gray heap of stone. Made poorer by the fact that it’s no longer full of guests.’
Emily laughed. ‘Well, I didn’t want to say.’
‘Don’t worry,’ reassured Nathan. ‘It’s different once you get inside.’
‘Oh,’ responded Emily.
‘Yeah,’ continued the old young man. ‘It’s worse. Anyway, don’t let me put you off. Let’s go in and meet and greet. Phineas will take care of your luggage.’
She followed Nathan up the stone stairs to the massive front door where he raised the iron knocker and banged it down a couple of times. The noise echoed through the interior and a few seconds later the door creaked open. Inside stood a man in a dark suit and tie. His eyes were blank and his face devoid of any expression.
Emily greeted him but he didn’t react, simply stood still holding the door open.
‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ said Nathan. ‘That’s Fergus. I think. Actually, maybe it’s Duncan. Whatever, they don’t talk much so don’t feel like you’re being singled out for the silent treatment. Just ignore him. Come on, follow me, I’ll introduce you to the boss man.’ Nathan walked fast, taking seemingly random corridors and steps. The interior of the mansion was like a maze but, although Emily didn’t know where she was in relation to where they were actually heading, she wasn’t lost. Her mind automatically tracked every turn, every change of direction and every flight of steps. It felt like she had an internal SatNav monitoring and storing her progress.
‘Your bedroom is down there,’ said Nathan as he pointed down a corridor. ‘Third door on the left. It’s quite nice actually, on-suite with a great view and a massive fireplace. Got a couple of creepy paintings but nothing that’ll keep you awake, I’m sure. I’ll take you there after you’ve met our esteemed leader. We all stay in this wing of the house, nowadays. The other two residential wings are closed on a permanent basis. No need for them anymore.’
As Nathan spoke he stopped outside a large door, rapped twice on it and then opened and walked in. Emily followed.
The room appeared to be a library. The drapes were drawn shut and a few large church candles wavered in the far reaches of the room. The walls were lined with book filled shelves. The ceiling was so high as to be shrouded in shadow, although it was just possible to see that it had been painted with a series of frescos, ala Sistine Chapel. A pair of wheeled ladders leaned against the shelves.
In the center of the room a large desk was covered in piles of papers and opened books. On the right hand side of the room stood an old man, his back to them as he stared into the fire that burned ferociously in the huge inglenook fireplace. The orange flames provided both warmth as well as most of the light in the room, causing the shadows to dance and flicker about. Shadow puppets without a master.
The man wore a dark, silk robe and his gray hair lay in a thick pony tail that hung down his back to his waist. It was obvious from the breadth of his shoulders and his upright stance that, although old, he was still fit and strong.
‘The purpose of knocking, my dear boy,’ he sniped. ‘Is to wait until the resident of the room gives permission to enter. It is not merely some form of warning that you are about to barge into a man’s inner sanctum.’
‘Apologies, Ambros. But I thought that you’d like to meet Emily. I picked her up this morning.’
The old man turned to face them, staring intently at Emily as he did so. The first thing that the young girl noticed about him was his eyes. Deep purple. Like they had been carved from pure amethyst and then backlit. She shivered slightly as she felt the power behind them and a thrill of real fear ran through her.
Then they suddenly changed, the light dimmed and the color faded to a light blue. The man smiled and everything was all right.
He stepped forward, his hand held out in front of him. ‘My darling Emily,’ he greeted as he took her hands in his and held them. ‘It is an honor and a privilege to have you here with us.’
He stared intently at her for a few seconds and then nodded. ‘I can see your father and your mother in you,’ he said. ‘But you favor your mother’s side. Fair of skin and of appearance. Welcome, my child. I am Sir Ambros, the current leader of this little enclave of souls. How are you settling in?’
‘Actually, I’ve just got here,’ answered Emily. ‘Haven’t even seen my room yet.’
‘Scandalous,’ said Ambros with a grin. ‘And I’d bet that you’re hungry as well.’
Emily nodded. ‘Starving,’ she admitted.
‘That’ll be the change,’ observed Ambros. ‘The kitchen is always open. Tell any of the servants that you want food and they will see to it. Try to get at least five or six full meals a day inside of you for the next week. More if you can. The change consumes an enormous amount of fuel so make sure that you keep the fires well stoked. Now, Nathan, show our young lady her room. She can meet everyone at dinner tonight after she’s had time to have something to eat, then rest and bathe.’
Nathan nodded and led Emily back to her room, leaving her at the door. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch you for dinner,’ he said. ‘Seven o’clock. If you need a snack or actually, anything at all, there’s a pull cord next to the bed. Give it a yank and a servant will come and tackle your order.’
The room was huge. More of a suite than a bedroom. A leather sofa, two wingback chairs, a coffee table plus a four seater dining table. A large flat screen television and a dock for an iPod or iPhone. Emily had neither. She had never had any use for a cell phone and she had always streamed her music or played it on the old vinyl records that Bart and Ryoko owned.
Her suitcase was placed on the end of her bed and when she opened it she found it to be empty. After checking the freestanding wardrobe on the one wall she found all of her clothes already hung up or folded in the drawers.
She was surprised to find that, apart from the clothes that she had brought with her, there were at least another five full outfits. All were a simple variation on a theme, black, thick cotton and leather, long coats, calf high boots. She tried one of the coats on. It was superbly tailored, snug fitting with no shiny buttons or any loose epaulettes or tags. Simple and elegant and practical.
It was obvious that the outfits were some sort of a uniform. She opened the door that led to the bathroom. An oversized four claw, free standing tub graced the center of the room. In the corner a walk in shower large enough for a troop of dancers, with a showerhead the size of a serving platter. Emily smiled happily and turned the water on. It cascaded from the head and thundered onto the tiles like a tropical monsoon as she stripped down and stepped into the steaming deluge.
The hot water was bliss as she soaped herself into a foaming lather, rinsed, turned the water off and then donned a plush cotton robe that hung on the back of the door as well as slipping on a pair of white flannel bath slippers.
As she went through to the bedroom she checked the time. Her watch said that it was 5:48 but she quickly realized that it was still on Alaskan time. That made it 1:48 local. Time for something to eat and then a nap before dinner.
She pulled the bell cord but heard nothing and assumed that the corresponding bell was too far away to register aurally. Surprisingly there was a knock on the door almost instantly so she walked over and open
ed it. There stood a woman dressed in a classic Victorian maid’s outfit. Long coarse black dress, lace up boots, a white pinafore over the top and a white frilly bonnet pulled down over her ears.
Emily smiled but the maid didn’t react. She simply stood still and stared blankly ahead.
Eventually Emily spoke. ‘Umm…hi. I’m rather hungry and I was hoping that you may be able to fetch me something to eat.’
The maid turned away and walked off. Her movements steady and careful. Almost as though she was drunk and had to concentrate on keeping herself upright and mobile.
‘Now that’s an odd one,’ said Emily to herself. ‘Oh well, not long until dinner.’
There was a chill in the air after her shower so Emily decided to light a fire and was happy to note that it had already been laid. On a shelf next to the inglenook stood a wooden box of extra long matches. She struck one and held it to the paper that stuck out from under the pile of logs and kindling. It took instantly and, within a couple of minutes, the seasoned wood crackled and spat, filling the room with gentle, comforting warmth.
At the same time there was a knock on the door. She opened it to reveal the self-same maid, this time wheeling a trolley laden with silver cloche-covered dishes. Again without talking she wheeled the trolley next to the dining table and proceeded to lay out a full meal. The cloches were picked up to reveal a whole roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, fried potatoes and a jug of thick gravy. Finally a slab of chocolate cake and a small jug of cream.
Emily’s mouth started watering as she thanked the maid. But once again there was no visible reaction so she simply sat down and tucked in.
After she had eaten, Emily set the alarm on her wrist watch, staggered to her bed, dropped her robe, shucked off her slippers and crawled under the goose-down duvet, falling asleep almost as her head touched the pillow. Jet lagged into peaceful oblivion.
Chapter 5