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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 7, 2009 13:36:06 GMT
Undecimber 21th
Year LV
11.00
A castle situated in the middle of the woods, far away from the prying eyes of civilization. Could it be any more perfect? As Mr. Bray entered his new home for the first time since the delivery of his own furnishings (mostly decorations such as paintings), the place struck him as every man's dream residence. After all, it provided him with an abundance of space, a wild garden and extensive grounds to explore. When in this house, he felt almost regal, king of his own little kingdom with no trespassers or visitors to shoo away. Not that he expected to be disturbed this deep into the woods. It had been the main attraction to compell him to buy it.
He withdrew to the library and poured himself over the legal papers he had signed to ascertain how much renovations would cost him. As a brilliant businessman, he calculated the cost of the needed labour without ever putting a quill to rest on a paper except to write down the outcome of the calculation so he could get a loan at the local bank (who knew how far away he would need travel for that) and get started immediately. His business correspondence reached him by post and although it somewhat delayed matters to be positioned here in the woods of nowhere, he seemed determined to remain here. Where else could he live as peacefully as here?
Mr. Bray revelled in his state of solitude, leaning back languidly with a newspaper in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. His dark, brown eyes danced across the paper in search of the job section. With an estate as large as this, he needed at least one housekeeper, one cook and one gardener. Naturally, they could not expect to be well-paid for their services and they would be given their own quarters so they could never cross paths with their cranky recluse of a master. Even as his eyes devoured the advertisements, he reconsidered hiring a bunch of simpletons to do his bidding. They would inevitably end up vexing him just so they could catch him some chickens for dinner. Dinner. Rawdon Bray, as a well-brought up gentleman, could not cook. At least a cook would be employed then.
He instantly started scribbling (on a piece of paper that would be hung in Benevolence's tavern) a short advertisement declaring his need of staff:
Upon finishing this letter, Rawdon departed and started the long, lonely walk into town where he would deliver the notification to the innkeeper or whoever was in charge. Over an hour later, he finally returned home and locked himself up in his drawing room, where he sat reading at his leisure till the first potential employee arrived.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 8, 2009 1:27:58 GMT
The Bell household had been in an uproar. As usual, Mr. Bell had spent the very early hours of the morning (before his wife awoke) in the Nine Wands. When he had come back, what he had said had might as well have been flame to a straw stack. Elizabeth had come rushing in from the fields at Beatrice's eager request, and what she heard was the sound of shouting. This was not regular, as John Bell was usually a quiet, peaceful man who avidly avoided conflict -- especially with his wife. But his voice was quite loud, nonetheless. As she had come through the door, her mother had rushed at her with her cloak, flung it around her shoulders, and smilingly informed her that she was going into the woods. John Bell had been red-faced, shouting that his daughter would not become wolf-food.
An hour later, Olivia had won, and Elizabeth had passed the grim faces of her sisters with a basket of clothing, her sewing, and an apple. A while later she stood at the edge of the forest, feeling nervous even though it was broad daylight. It was safe. Broad daylight. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the hood of her brown, worn cloak over her head and continued. After a while, she found it. There was a worn path there, but fresh hoof prints that could only belong to the master of Elencastel served as a guide where the path seemed to blend in to the ground cover.
She hurried through the ruins quickly, dodging around large square stones and lifting her skirts to clamber over fallen walls. When she finally came into sight of the castle, her heart leapt into her throat. She had been here before, several years ago with her father. It was a sight for every person to see once. Then, it had been unoccupied. She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to live out here, no matter how magnificent the building was. She swallowed, remembering why she came. Her mother wanted her to charm the man, for he was obviously rich. It would be a marriage any matchmaking mama could only dream of. Yet if she was away from the village, and she did no such thing, it would buy her more time as an unmarried woman.
Stepping up to the giant doors tentatively, she stared at the huge iron door knockers on the door, formed into the figures of snarling wolves with rings hanging from their jaws. Her shaking hand eventually lifted, gripped the ring, and slammed it down onto the door three times, before withdrawing as if the iron creature would take her hand.
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 8, 2009 14:38:39 GMT
Mr. Bray lay slumbering in his library chair when a distant sound awoke him from his dream and informed him of the fact that a visitor had arrived at Elencastel castle. He grumpily arose from his comfortable chair and set about answering the door most reluctantly. Were the disruption not a necessity, he would not have bothered. He surely did not mean to befriend the neighbours or bestow his kindness on the poor or some such nonsense. As the gentleman made his way to the front door, he paused in front of a mirror to check his appearance for any visible flaws. One must always look ones best when company is expected, even when it is so undesirable a proper connection could never be established. It was a question of etiquette and demonstrating how things ought to be done. He considered himself the epitome of good manners, although he was a superficial snob above all.
After a careful inspection of his wardrobe and physical appearance, he deemed himself ready to be seen and opened the door in a casual, bored manner so his visitor might not feel flattered by his greeting. A difference in station must be maintained at all times. As Mr. Bray finally dignified his guest with a glance in her direction, he was caught off-guard by her beauty and needed a moment to compose himself, before continuing in his normal uncivil way.
"I am Mr. Bray, as I assume you know," he greeted her coldly and beckoned her to enter his home and follow him to the drawing room where the interview would take place. He stole a glance at his fair companion every few steps and admired the smoothness of her complexion, the brilliance of her eyes and her radiant, yellow hair.
"I must admit I was not expecting someone so young. You cannot be very experienced," he told her and scrutinised her figure, which appeared quite light and perfect. In a sense, she reminded him of a former nanny he had been very fond of in his youth. But she had not been sent to care for him and he was no child. How could this child perform her duties? Indeed, it relieved his senses to think of her as a child since it distanced his admiration for her looks.
When they entered the room and Mr. Bray closed the door behind them, he assumed a chair in the very center of the room so he might better observe her whilst feeling himself superior to his guest. "Please, sit down," he gestured to the chair opposite him and straightened his posture. In his hand, he held a piece of paper and a feather so he could scribble down some notes about each candidate and better make up his mind.
"Let us start with the basics - name, age, years of experience. You wish to apply for the position of housekeeper I assume?" he added as he could not imagine such a frail creature as a gardener. Such a thing would be unheard of indeed! Perhaps a cook, although she had not the maternal look to convince him of such a skill.
"After that you may ask me any questions you might have regarding your position in his household," he finished and motioned her to speak. It was all he knew - to command people to do this and that. And he rather liked it that way. One of the advantages of being single and in business. No one dared argue with him.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 8, 2009 23:02:18 GMT
After several minutes of waiting, Bess was getting nervous. Maybe she had come too soon. Maybe he was out. Maybe he was -- the door swung open, and there was a very richly dressed gentleman, younger and more handsome than she had expected, certainly, but he was not looking at her. She stood stiffly, her face entirely blank. What in the world was he looking at? The trees? She had to resist the urge to turn around and see for herself, but then his eyes skimmed passively over her as if she were a piece of the scenery of froze.
She opened her mouth to say something, mustering up a smile, but he spoke first. His voice was an uninterested drawl, as if he was really quite exasperated with the need to talk to her, and her mouth snap shut in indigence at the sound. Mr. Bray, yes -- she already had some things to tell her sisters about him. Beyond her stoic, proper exterior, her pride clutched at a tiny wound in its side and groaned. Still, she followed him in, hurrying to keep up with his long strides and struggling to take in the magnificence of the castle's interior all at once.
It was gorgeous, of course. Tapestries, intricate carvings, gargoyles, massive stone arches. She ran a finger over the mantle of one of the smaller fireplaces that they passed, and upon expecting the finger of her leather glove, found it quite dusty. Yes, it needed work. The place was so huge, though, she couldn't imagine him requiring all off it be kept clean. Perhaps he would inhabit a single wing. She quickly placed her hands in front of her, folded neatly, hiding the fact that she had been testing the dust, as he began to speak again. Her jaw ached with how hard it was clenching. She was a young woman. She had been raised and trained to be a good wife, and that meant that she could complete domestic duties with the utmost quality. She felt insulted that he would criticise her for her age; especially since he was so young himself, and so obviously without the experience he expected her not to have.
They finally made their way into what appeared to be a drawing room, and Elizabeth was already quite at a loss as to how they had gotten there -- she would be getting lost quite a lot, she suspected. She jumped a little as the door closed behind them, and she felt keenly the impropriety of being alone with this man, but said nothing. Instead, she sat down in the chair opposite him, her back ramrod straight and her expression still completely blank. She folded her hands in her lap, glad that she had worn her best dress. It was a robin's egg blue, embroidered by both she and her mother in turns with tiny white flowers. In city terms it was simple, but it helped her to fight the intense feeling of inferiority he seemed to be pressing upon her.
She waited a few seconds after he stopped speaking, for she had already opened her mouth to answer questions or otherwise submit input and had to allow him to speak further instead. Satisfied that he was done (and quite frustrated, though she was doing a good job of not showing it), she began.
"My name is Elizabeth Bell; I am at the age of two and twenty. My father is John Bell, owner of the farmland in the eastern fields." The Bell property covered the entire eastern part of the village surroundings, and it was rivalled only by the Knighton's farm to the west. She did not suppose him to know that, or to care -- he seemed rather uninterested in the community next to which he had situated himself. "I am quite thoroughly proficient in all of the occupations that you mentioned in your listing. As an eldest daughter, I have always been involved in the managing of the household,; its accounts, and upkeep. I have often prepared meals for my family and I am the keeper of our gardens."
She paused, staring a little nervously at his quill. She would have muscle cramps constantly if she worked here. It was impossible not to be tense around this man.
"Will there be a lady in need of assistance, or children for whom care is required?" She asked, her eyebrows raising just slightly. Judging by the attitude of the man, her mother's supposition was correct. He was single, rich, and in much need of a release of excess cranial air. Her eyes swept over his face, his hair, and his clothing. He obviously took good care of himself, and took his appearance very seriously. He was handsome, quite so, there was no doubt about that. It was his haughty attitude that gave him the unpleasant air. Perhaps that was why he was unmarried. He might say it was his own choice, but she was of the opinion that when a woman of quality set her eyes upon a man, the choice was no longer in his hands. She had seen it happen plenty of times, and had no doubt that beneath his fancy clothes he was as the same stock as the village boys.
It gave her confidence to think of him as such, anyway. A small, secret smile crept onto her face and she let her gaze fall back into her lap. |
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 9, 2009 11:53:15 GMT
It pleased him that he had been in control of the situation thus far, although it could not be kept up for ever. With the villager about to speak, he prepared himself for the foulest of manners and the silliest of country accents, but when the lady spoke at last, she sounded all civility and kindness, much to his frustration. He did not like to be surprised and Miss Bell had taken it upon herself to shatter all his preconceptions about the country. However, when her short speech was over, it enabled him to take over the reigns once more - an opportunity that could not be wasted on insincere flattery.
"So your father is a farmer!" he exclaimed and fought off the mental image of some simpleton working away in the fields while Elizabeth looked on. Once he recovered from his own outburst, which seemed indignified even to himself, he managed to soften his voice somewhat for the rest of his reply.
"Two and twenty is a sensible enough age to enter into any profession to be sure. However, and I hope you will allow me to make this observation, I am quite astonished at your ability to run your entire household. It must indeed be a very small one that you can divide your time thus that you may fulfill all your duties. I am quite pleased to hear of your diligence although you will find Elencastel a much bigger estate to manage and I do wonder at your doing it alone. For one, I cannot permit a woman in my care, for you are in my care in a sense, to be seen out gardening. No, that would not do, at all. Such an unladylike profession. You may be in charge of the household and the cooking and I wager you will be hard-pressed to finish your work by the end of the shift," he told her, with a smile of complacence.
For once, he disregarded his taciturn disposition and he almost liked it.
Her simple enquiry after his marital state struck a chord in him and he feigned to touch his hair to cover up a grimace. The subject brought back unpleasant memories and for a brief moment, Mr. Bray got caught up in reminisces and his father's loud, booming voice penetrated his mental walls.
"When will you marry, son?" he had often asked. "You are of age and of means. Think of the family business! An advantageous marriage could expand our business and help us get ahead of our competition!" He'd spoken these words over and over again. "Do not worry about your shy nature. A woman does not want a man for speaking! They simply desire companionship!"
But any mention of women in a romantic or even mercenary capacity deprived him of all social abilities. For a man of the world, he had never learned how to woo a woman, only how to command her.
"I am unmarried," he uttered the words slowly, still tasting the effects of his memories on his tongue. "I am in charge of my father's business and it takes up all of my time. I would not wish such a negligent husband on a woman," he still felt the need to defend himself, even to a stranger. A short silence followed that admission, during which he secretly wondered if his social disability might be overcome and marital bliss could be his. After a short internal deliberation he concluded that it could not.
"So, have you made up your mind as to whether you accept the position? If so, we need to discuss what wages you require and whether you would rather live here or remain at home with your family," he remembered to ask, happy to change the subject. Sometimes, he could be almost sympathetic. These moments rarely lasted long enough for him to take notice how well people liked him then compared to when he was his usual ill-tempered self.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 10, 2009 0:18:01 GMT
Her eyesbrows flew up, and her lips pressed tightly together. Yes, her father was a farmer! As if she had said he was a convict! Her back straightened a bit more and her chin lifted. A farmer, yes, a perfectly respectable profession; and not just any farm, but the Bell farm, one of the largest in these parts. In the village's terms, they were wealthy. In this man's eyes, she was probably just a country bumpkin. Her cheeks burned with outrage; 'country bumpkin' just didn't fit her ideal image of herself. She resented him for his tone, painting such an insulting picture.
He own tone was a little sharp when she spoke, without warmth but lacking in confrontation. "Thank you, Sir. Not so small, but I have sisters to help me." She paused, feeling like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. Should she take the job? Her mother wanted her to live with the man closely, her father didn't want her to have anything to do with the woods. She didn't want to have anything to do with the young men her mother would have in mind as back-up to her master plan.
"Yes, if you will have me, then I will be quite happy to be in your employ." The statement was empty, but she managed a small smile. "As a housekeeper, if that is what you wish, and I can prepare your meals." Another pause, as she hesitated to broach the topic of pay. For some reason, it was embarrassing. How much would be the expected amount? She didn't know. How much did her father pay the workers? "I would expect at least seventy embits per week," she said. It was modest, she knew. At that, she could just barely afford enough to feed herself decently, but as she had no rent to pay she supposed it would be fine.
"As I am uncomfortable travelling in the woods, I would like to accept your kind offer of lodging in the castle. However, I cannot take up residence until after Samhain eve, as my family will require my presence in the next week. Also..." She bit her lip, unsure of how he would react. "If you don't mind, I would like to keep a cat." If she could get any of the Guardians to agree to come with her. She dearly hoped so. How could she possibly feel safe, with all of the felines a mile off?
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 10, 2009 11:42:23 GMT
Mr. Bray leaned over a porcelain teapot and poured himself a drink. "Might I offer you some refreshment, miss?" he asked politely and motioned to the cupboard to fetch another cup for his guest. When the master of the house returned to his seat and lifted his cup to his lips, the lady spoke of sisters and a medium-sized household, as he interpreted her speech and he wondered whether they were all as fair and soft-spoken as she.
"These sisters, how old are they and do they all reside at the farm?" he asked so she could help him complete the picture in his head. If most villagers were raised as well as she, it might be worth the effort of venturing into town to gain new acquaintance. He was not so naive as to expect anyone to rival his city manners, but their company would have the principal use of helping him pass his time. Furthermore, he fully expected their country ways to amuse him.
With her acceptance of his housekeeper post and the promise to cook his meals as well, all that failed him now was a gardener and measures would be taken to remedy that situation before long. With grounds as extensive as these, a gardener was indispensable. If only Elizabeth had brothers, they might be employed. But he pushed the matter to the back of his mind for now so he could better enjoy his tea and the pleasant room he drank it in. The house was very much to his liking so the coarseness of the populace seemed almost bearable.
"Seventy embits, you say?" he repeated her suggested pay and went over the figure in his head to sum up what the money might be needed for; clothes, food, but why would she have to pay for any of that as a member of her family's household? Clothes, yes, but food? The amount was decent enough not to disgust him, yet it found something wanting. After all, she would be employed as both the cook and the housekeeper and should be paid accordingly. So he decided to be generous. Happy people make good employees he'd once read in some newspaper.
"I will pay you ninety embits, how does that sound?" he settled with himself at last and nearly slapped himself on the back. It is amazing how well the rich can convince themselves they are generous when all they worry about is their own reputation. The next part of their discussion somewhat worried him. If she was unable to work for him for the next few days, how would he eat? Who would cook and clean for him? This troubled him greatly and he reluctantly concluded that he would be forced to visit the inn until his new staff was in place.
"That is unfortunate," he still mumbled for good measure and sighed at the prospect of going into the village every evening. In theory, he wished to meet the locals and laugh at their blundering. But now that the world had conspired against him thus that he would actually need to execute this plan, he reserved the right to be cross. Perhaps he could be entertained by their flaws without communicating with them. This revelation soothed him.
A cat? At first, he thought he might have misheard and deceived himself somehow. But she actually wished to reside here with a cat? "Are you worried about mice?" he guessed and found himself unable to guarantee that there would be none present. Perhaps it was a good idea so he smiled weakly and consented. "Very well, bring a cat. But she must not be allowed to enter my study. I have many important papers there." What if the cat ate his contract? Or worse, urinated on it. He shuddered visibly.
"I did see rather a lot of cats when I was in town," he observed, knitting his brows into a frown.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 11, 2009 11:07:13 GMT
She nodded, making a quiet sound of affirmation in response to his offer of tea. She was dreading the walk back through the forest. The place unnerved her. If she could hold it off with a warm cup of tea, all the better. Elizabeth tipped her head slightly, her brows knitting together in concern. Why would he want to know such details about her sisters? She swallowed her nasty little suspicions and overcame her distrust, replying at last: "I have three younger sisters, the youngest being eighteen years of age. Yes, they are all unmarried, and as such are still in residence at the family house." All lovely, with pale hair and eyes and some flaw or another that made them difficult. Mary was stubborn and had a sharp tongue; Beatrice had nothing sharp about her; and Mercy was always sick, mostly blind and half deaf. Out of the three, she preferred Mercy. It saddened her to think of being without her youngest sister; who would she read to? She could not remember a time in which she had had her own room.
Her smile was genuine at his offer of higher pay. It was completely unexpected. She had been tensed and ready to argue over every last embit, but instead he had generously lifted her wages. With that, she could perhaps afford a new dress, if she saved but a little. Or new books. Her eyes flashed at the thought... new books. New adventures. She opened her mouth to respond that she thought it a very good and generous pay, but then rethought and closed it. The question had probably been rhetorical.
She nodded, going over in her head how she might convince a Guardian to take up residence with her in the castle. She would have to find them first; usually one did not have to find Guardians, the felines came to one when the felines wished to. This was a special case. She went over a few of the known whiskered in her mind, calculating her chances of success. Probably a younger one, closer to kitten-hood and more energetic, ready for a challenge. Miss Margaret? She was the first to come to mind at the thought of kittens. But perhaps not; Miss Maggie would almost certainly destroy the tapestries.
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 11, 2009 18:09:57 GMT
It wore him out to appear chatty and interested in the insignificant lives of his staff. More embarrassing still, the woman in question seemed reluctant to discuss her family life. When she spoke of her sisters and their situation, it seemed to Mr. Bray as if she intentionally told him as little as possible, which displeased him. Perhaps the difference in their stations concerned her and she did not wish rise above it by befriending her master. But he did not know her well enough to pass judgement on her reasoning. As of yet, Miss Bell was a bit of a mystery to him.
"Three younger sisters, how delightful!" he exclaimed with sincere enthusiasm. As an only child, most of his youth was spent in solitude, climbing trees in between Latin lessons. It had been rather dull and lonely. "And I am sure you get along marvously," he ventured to say with a nod of encouragement. Although it usually disgusted him to be seen conversing with household staff, he knew full well that if he wanted to get anything done in this town, he would be in need of Elizabeth's good opinion. That way, she could spread the word and inform her relations of his kind, generous character and good sense of humour. Yes, in his eyes he was perfectly amiable. He only acted according to the rules of society when snubbing the lower classes after all.
"Will you go home during the weekend, then?" he asked and stirred his tea for a moment. "If so, I should not like for you to wander through the woods by yourself - it is not safe! Please tell me you have a manservant waiting outside while you conduct this interview,'' he said and felt almost fatherly now, despite the small gap of their ages. "No, I have quite made up my mind. Whenever you are to go into town, you must notify me of the event so I may accompany you. How else can I ensure the safety of my staff? I could use the fresh air. The walk will do me good."
It would do no good to reject his offer. Once he had decided, there was no changing his mind and considering he was her superior in more ways than one, she had better listen to his advice. But why should she not? It was in her best interest to be accompanied into town. The woods could be a dangerous place for a young woman. He should really have brought a carriage to this damned place. As if on cue, a menacing tree branch brushed against the window.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 12, 2009 9:54:09 GMT
Elizabeth watched his face closely, caught off guard. He seemed more open and cheerful than he had when he had first brought her in. Had she made such a good impression? So wrapped up was he in his own talking -- and it was confusing, for while she was sure he was making commands they were phrased peculiarly like questions -- that he seemed to have entirely forgotten her agreement to take tea. Or was he expecting for her to pour it herself? She was unused to that. Perhaps city manners were much different; or perhaps it was because she was now an employee, and thus not entitled to the same treatment. That would make sense, she supposed.
She didn't know what to think about his 'offer', however. It seemed quite abnormal that he would walk with her on every trip she made. Perhaps this once it would not be odd, but she suspected that he would shirk his insistence when she had to travel into town early enough to purchase the necessary produce to prepare his daily meals. Confident that he would not follow through, she merely smiled warmly and nodded, murmuring, "Thank you very much, Mr. Bray," as if he were the most perfect gentleman.
Then, still quite thirsty, she leaned forward to pour her own tea.
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 12, 2009 10:14:04 GMT
Rawdon often was quite unaware of the effect he had on people and seemed oblivious to their opinion of him. He had scarcely noticed Miss Bell had gone silent until she poured herself a cup of tea. Perhaps he should have done the honours since she was his guest, but considering she was to be his housekeeper, his negligence was acceptable in this instance and he flattered himself that he merely followed the unwritten rules of society.
"I hope you will not think me bold but I am new in town and a stranger. What could you tell me about Benevolence? I do like a good story and any information you might give me would be more than welcome," he said, mostly to try and get her talking.
Even someone as deluded as him could not deny that he had spent most of their meeting talking to himself and it was most rude and bordering on arrogant. He only employed the word arrogant to himself because he believed Miss Bell to be at fault. Had she chosen to join the conversation, he would not have come across as such and things would have been altogether more pleasant for both parties.
"Although I will maintain the necessary distance between us both as society commands, I should like for us to be on friendly terms at least," he sought to compliment her. But would it be taken as such? He drank his tea and got distracted by the lovely view outside. For a man who hardly ever left his study, he greatly appreciated the beauty the outdoors afforded him.
He turned his attention back to the quiet Miss Bell and stirred his teacup while he beheld her glowing visage. She seemed rather genteel for a housekeeper. "What sort of education did you have?" he suddenly asked, no longer able to keep his curiosity at bay. He had to know more about her background and history. Who was this creature who seemed so unwilling to let him in?
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 12, 2009 10:53:25 GMT
Elizabeth sighed as she raised the cup to her lips and sipped the tea, her eyes drifting closed for one brief moment. It was quality stuff; not quite like anything she had tasted before. Apparently when it came to tea, money really did make a difference. Her approval of the drink showed clearly on her face, and she took another sip before lowering the cup onto the saucer she held in her right fingers, near her lap.
Her eyebrows lifted again, and she contemplated what to tell him. She couldn't imagine that anything she might say would be particularly interesting to him. Anything that would be... well, those things he would probably just scorn. A stab of guilt when through her as she realised that he may not have been warned about the... creatures. He obviously had had no inkling about the cats, for he had not scoffed at her. She could not believe for one moment that this city man would do anything but laugh at the bane of her locality.
So she decided to remain dull.
"Oh no, certainly not. We are a kindly people, quite tight-knit in our community. Our economy is primarily based in produce and furs, naturally. The village has no real government, but matters tend to be deferred to the elders and landowners: Mr. Brackton, Mrs. Meiller, and my father, for instance." She paused to sip at her tea, turning her gaze out the window as well. She didn't know if he had had glass put in the windows or if one of the former, very brief tenants had. "There is a great wealth of history. Most families here have been living in the valley for centuries. There are quite a few local legends, the most prominent of which regards the wolves in this very wood, and it is the reason that there are so many cats in the village." Might as well leave it at that. A legend. He would no doubt accept only that.
"My great grandfather was a scholar from London. He had a wealth of books in his possession that he leant to my household, and he took it upon himself to educate my great grandfather, who then educated my mother, who then taught me what she could. I am quite an insatiable reader." What did he expect? For her to be missing several teeth, drool down her dress front and not be able to pronounce her own name?
"And you, Mr. Bray? You are no doubt an educated man."
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 12, 2009 11:13:38 GMT
The fact that his companion had regained the power of speech delighted him and he slightly inclined forward as she spoke. Mr. Bray gulped down his tea to keep him warm while listening to her thoughts on the village. It sounded very charming and provincial, everything he had anticipated. It also pleased him that she ranked her father as one of the town elders. That might explain her manners and genteel apparel. He nodded thoughtfully in between topics of conversation. "Well, it is a very small town, indeed," he said, taking the newly-gained information into account.
"Produce and furs, of course. I had expected as much. And you do not wish to travel and see the world? It must be hard for such a young woman to be so far removed from civilization," he tried to symphatise with her situation and poured himself another cup of tea. She had only barely touched hers. He wondered about the government and how matters were decided by the city elders. What sort of issues would be under discussion at these meetings? As a man in business, he had a keen interest in politics and was arrogant enough to presume that his opinion mattered more than that of the other villagers who'd lived here their whole lives. Perhaps he could be a part of the local government somehow. It would give him a sense of purpose.
With regards to the mention of a local legend about wolves in the forest, he snickered to himself and blamed their silly country ways for believing such stories. And how could a bunch of cats ever take on a wolf? Ludicrous, indeed. But an entertaining notion nevertheless.
"Well, as an inhabitant of the woods I will inform you of any suspicious activity," he said in jest and sipped his tea. The information about her ancestors interested him all the more and he arched an eyebrow. "Books are my passion too," he whispered, returning to his serious state of mind. "I am in possession of the largest library of the neighbourhood. I should like to invite you to see it for yourself. You are welcome to any of my books as long as you are careful. Some are rather old and torn and need gentle handling. Should I show you now?" he seized the opportunity to befriend the girl.
"I studied English at university," he answered in regards to his own education. "I had nannies as a child who took care of my education most diligently. But some things cannot be learned at a school," he allowed and was reminded of his social difficulties.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 12, 2009 12:52:14 GMT
Elizabeth nodded lazily, taking the break in speech to go at her tea. It was finished quickly, for she was already very fond of this particular brew, and she was quick to pour herself another. She knew now not to expect him to act the host; she could hardly blame him for that, for she was now his housekeeper, after all. Still, the gesture would have been appreciated.
It certainly was difficult. Her gaze drifted to the middle distance, and an aspect of longing came over her features. Travel the world. Oh, but she had dreamed of it. It was not something that she was meant for. She was a woman, the daughter of a farmer. She would marry and bear children, raise them and live a life of duty to her family -- right here in Benevolence. It was a noble life, even if it was a dull one. At least with her respectable dowry and unsoiled reputation, she could hope for a great match... monetarily, that is.
His joke was met with an icy stare. The truth was, none of the villagers expected him to outlive the week. If she could bring in some cats, that might change things; yet he could still conceivably meet his end between now and Samhain. With these stone walls to protect him, how long would it take the Gewin to sniff him out and take him? Not long, she supposed. They seemed awfully good at locating those that wandered in their woods, and equally skilled at viscously and completely devouring them. It was no laughing matter. If he ever saw anything, she had severe doubts as to his ability to tell anyone about it.
She finally noticed that, judging from his posture and expression, he had asked a question. She went over what she had just heard in her mind, for she had listened without really interpreting. "A library?" She asked, perhaps a little dumbly. Her eyes went wide, and then sparkled as a wide smile broke out on her face. "Oh! Yes, most certainly, I would be most grateful!"
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 12, 2009 20:26:12 GMT
With the mention of his library, Miss Bell's face lit up and she seemed quite interested to visit it. Mr. Bray, worrying mostly about finding a way to transport the tea to the library in an effective, gentlemanly manner, immediately rose and beckoned her to follow his lead.
"Have you quite finished your tea? I'm afraid the library is rather far from here but it would be possible to take some refreshment with us," he said and filled the tray with the necessary items as he spoke, adding a vase with red roses to help brighten up the library. Although it was beneath him, he took charge of the tray and played housekeeper for once, catching a slight smirk in a mirror when passing by. What was that, a smile? As if it were an amusing situation that he was waiting on the servants now.
They walked down a long hall and many a doors. Mr. Bray paused at the very end at the hall and gestured for her to open the door since his hands were full. A large, studious room came into view with the scent of dust and ancient knowledge gently welcoming them into the library. Rawdon entered first, putting the tray down on a nearby table and motioning to the numerous bookcases that decorated the walls and reached the ceiling.
"I hope it is to your liking," he mentioned and assumed his favourite arm chair near the fireplace. "You may explore the bookcases if you wish. I will simply sit here and finish my tea while you browse," he told her and installed himself with the tea and biscuits. "You may visit the library whenever you like, it is a public place - not needed for my personal use except when fetching a book. As long as you finish your work of course," he told her in the hopes of making her like him a little.
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Post by Delilah Strangeway on Nov 12, 2009 20:58:54 GMT
The iron wheels of a wooden cart slowly rolled up the path to Elencastle. On the cart were baskets of bushes that still had their leaves and an assortment of vegetables just taken from the garden this morning. Pulling the cart was an old gray mule that was being lead by a pale delicate hand on its coarse dusty neck. The hand belonged the eldest of Strangeway children. Though she was wearing a dark brown clock with the hood covering her face it was easy to tell it was Delilah. It was the way she drifted through the woods without making a sound, though there were many dried leaves under her feet, that gave her away.
Wandering through the woods wasn’t an usual event for Delilah, but today there was a specific place she was going for a specific reason. She was going to old castle in the woods to inquire about working as the new resident’s, Mister Bray’s, gardener. Her father had seen the posting, and knowing of Delilah’s love for working with plants, made a brief mention if it. Delilah of course, in her own way, was delighted at the idea of gardening such a large piece of land…near the woods. Dominic Strangeway wasn’t completely keen on the idea of his daughter going off to work for someone he hadn’t met yet, but Lilith was able to convince him, like she always was able to, that it would be good for Delilah.
So here she was with Elencastle in sight. A smirk formed on her lips as she felt the dominating presence of the castle on her. This should bring about some fun. Once getting to the door Delilah gave the mule a carrot from the basket and bid it to say close, knowing that the mule probably wouldn’t even move from that spot much. Slipping her fingers around the knocker and gentley knocked twice some how sending two thunderous bangs echoing through the woods.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 13, 2009 1:18:49 GMT
Elizabeth stood, her hands reaching out to take the tray. To her surprise, Mr. Bray completely passed her up, continuing to walk while carrying the tray. How odd! Was he trying to be kind, or merely aiming to shock her? She followed, opening doors for him when he could not, constantly on the ready to take the tray from him. To her surprise, he never offered it. He didn't even mention it. It felt odd, opening doors for a man; yet there were quite a few in the castle, and down endless hallways they went. She found herself shying away from the towering gargoyles. The blank stares from pretty angel faces, mainly on statues that held candelabras or some such thing, she could cope with just fine. They reminded her slightly of her sister Mercy, after all.
They finally reached the library, and Bess had to keep from crying out. The smell! Old books. Pages, and dust, and knowledge, that smell! Divine. Simply divine. She heard him talking, but she wasn't really listening to him any more. She immediately wandered over to the nearest shelf, her fingers skimming over the bindings of each book in turn, as gentle as if they were newborn babies. She finally turned a bright, pleased smile back to him that was purely genuine. She was about to say something when several bangs were heard. She jumped, tensing, and her eyes went wide.
"Shall I..." She had to clear her throat to rid it of the lump forming there. "Shall I get the door, Mr. Bray?" She asked, seeking to be excused to perform the duty... however nervous it made her.
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Post by Rawdon Bray on Nov 13, 2009 11:45:33 GMT
It amused him to watch young Miss Bell in the library, the way she handled the books and had the biggest smile on her face. He had done her a great favour, that much was obvious and it pleased him. A bang on the door interrupted their little excursion and he was about to excuse himself when she offered to begin her duties and fetch the visitor herself. The offer surprised him pleasantly and he remained seated with his tea.
"Thank you, Miss Bell. However, do you think you could bring the visitor to me here or would you get lost in the attempt?" he asked, well aware how large the castle seemed to a newcomer, including himself. He had lost his way too shortly after arriving and had only just memorised which turn to take where. It would be the same for Miss Bell, who had probably been too nervous to pay attention on their way here.
Although it might be best to walk back with her to show her the way, he settled on giving her directions she she could practise instead. "You walk down this hallway, take a turn to the left at the very end of it, straight ahead and down the staircase that leads to the main entrance," he explained and sent her off, believing her to be well informed. Luckily, the way to the library was a simple one compared to the way to the kitchen for instance. She'd need a map to locate that one since it was so far removed from the drawing room.
As he waited for Miss Bell to return he wondered who the visitor might be and decided that another applicant was most likely since he knew no one here besides Elizabeth. As such, he was hoping for a sensible lad to take on as gardener and poured the prospective applicant a cup of tea to keep him occupied.
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Post by Delilah Strangeway on Nov 14, 2009 3:42:49 GMT
Delilah waited patiently by the door for someone to answer it. She didn’t mind waiting, it gave her time to survey the area. The tree range was thick and obvious sign that this was deep in the forest. You couldn’t even the light streaming in from the open field. It wouldn’t seem like this observation Delilah would have given any thought to, such a simple and obvious one. But with the village legend it was something to notice. Mr. Bray most not have heard of the wolves, or he had and didn’t believe in it. That was understandable for a newcomer, “But he shall find out soon enough.” She whispered over to the mule who shifted uncomfortably and gave a whine. “Do not worry old girl. I won’t stay past dark for your sake.” She said soothingly which seemed to settle the mule a little.
The door creaked open and Delilah merely shifted her gaze over toward the person that had finally come to let her in. What a surprise though who it was. She had been expecting the man himself to have answered it, or at least a household servant. Instead in front of stood the eldest of the Bell children, “Miss. Elizabeth. What a surprise. Are you also here for a job position?” Well look who decided to wander off her straight and narrow path some? Delilah had hardly been expecting another villager would try and get a job out here, much less Miss. Epitome of Modesty. Was she lost?
She pushed back the hood of her cloak and reconfigured her mocking smirk into a sweet smile. Her bright orange hair hung loose down her back after she pulled it out from being trapped under the cloak. “I suppose Mr. Bray is not coming to the door? “ Was all she asked before gracefully turning and heading back to the cart. Without explaining why she suddenly went back to the cart, Delilah took an empty basket and picked out some of the biggest and ripest vegetables she had. “I guess I should bring my evidence to him of my gardening skills then.” She finally said hefting the basket up with relative ease, even though it was completely full.
Propping the basket on her slim hip she walked, if you could call gliding walking, back to the door, “Will you be showing me the way or were you leaving?” Had Elizabeth really applied for job here? Most likely it would have been housekeeper if she had. Or was she just welcoming the new neighbor? No, if that was the case more Bell’s would have been in tow.
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Post by Elizabeth Bell on Nov 15, 2009 11:30:19 GMT
Elizabeth had traced her way to the door, using memories of different statues as guides when she was unsure of her memory of his directions. It took her five full minutes, but eventually the patter of her hurried steps could be heard beyond the door. She pulled the massive doors ajar, and then froze.
Delilah Strangeway met her sight. Her face was partly obscured by the hood of her cloak, but there was no mistaking the unsettling feeling that settled at the pit of Bess' stomach. The hood was pulled back, and unfettered, flame-coloured hair fell into view. On the pretty face was a flawlessly sweet smile that didn't quite reach the sparkling eyes. Elizabeth found herself unable to speak as Delilah greeted her; it was a cold reception hidden behind warm words.
Finally she roused herself, saying gently, "I have been hired on as housekeeper at Elencastle." After a short pause, in which Elizabeth overcame her shock enough to step aside for Delilah to enter, she spoke again.
"Master Bray is taking tea in the library. He will receive you there," She said, averting her eyes from the odd girl. She closed the door with a soft click beyond them and then continued without a word, leading the way to the library with a little more ease this time. The statuary and unique architecture served as adequate landmarks for navigation.
When they came to the library doors she knocked twice and then waited five seconds, then entered, holding the door open and stepping away to the side in order for Delilah to pass.
"Delilah Strangeway, sir, come to apply for a position as gardener." She announced, still averting her eyes from the object of her discomfiture.
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