Chapter 10 #2
Any further questions were silenced as Harper was faced with an entry room that looked like it really did belong in West Egg.
Dark wood floors were lit by delicate table lamps but overhead was an enormous crystal chandelier that hung from eternity to about fifteen feet above the floor.
It filled the room with a sort of light that looked like it belonged in the Fae realm.
Harper was suddenly hit with a sense of déjà vu, a body memory reaction to seeing this place for the first time, her feet cold and wet, her body shivering and emaciated, her mind fearful, confused, but immediately overwhelmed with a sense of safety.
The sense was so strong that Harper lost her balance and stumbled.
Gatsby the cat stared at her from the entry table, where he was now regarding them both.
“You alright?” Anna asked. In the light, Harper could see she was quite pretty, with messy blond hair that fell into her eyes as she pulled her stocking cap off, light blue eyes, muscular build, tall.
Harper wondered for a moment if all residents of the island were Viking stock like Einar the Ferryman.
“I’m fine, it’s just … a lot.” Harper shook her head and cleared it of the sensation. She was imagining things, too many Bell Manor stories in her head surely.
“Hello, Harper Hafdóttir.” Nigel entered from behind the grand staircase, and Harper could see that there were passageways on either side.
To the right were two grand rooms, to the left a long hallway lit with wall sconces in the shape of carved wooden hands holding glowing orbs.
Harper felt the dizziness setting in again.
She knew this place, the passageways, the chandelier.
She knew without being told that Nigel had come from a grand kitchen that was essentially situated under the stairwell and stretched clear to the back of the manor.
To the right was a formal sitting room and the formal dining room that housed a long, dark wood dining table that had been a gift from King Charles II.
Harper remembered polishing this table with rag and oil, working the oil into the wood grain.
She felt the world fading out again. Anna’s hands on her arm steadied her.
“Harper? What’s going on? You alright?” Anna said with concern. The flat, uninvolved tone she had earlier was gone entirely.
Harper nodded, steadying herself, but still feeling Anna’s hands on her arm, a warmth that threatened to leave a mark on Kyle’s nice shirt. “Yeah, I promise, I just feel like, it doesn’t make any sense, but I feel like I know this place, like I’ve seen it before, but that …”
“Is impossible,” Nigel said brusquely. “There are no promotional or press photographs of Bell Manor as per Lady Bell’s orders. But as I told you, Bell Manor is a wonder of the world, I am not surprised you are overcome.”
Without his puffer coat, Harper could see that Nigel had a dark cinnamon complexion and a single streak of gray in his rough hair.
He also looked familiar, but Harper dispelled the notion before she near fainted again.
From the table, Gatsby the cat yawned as another enormous cat sauntered into the room, this one a patchwork of ginger and white; she stared at Harper with round green eyes.
“Hello,” Harper said simply.
“Yes. Harper Hafdóttir, meet Lady Macbeth,” Nigel said with a reverent nod to the cat. “Please leave your jacket with Anna and follow me. Lady Bell will receive you in the library.”
“Thank you,” Harper said quietly to Anna as she pulled off her coat. Anna nodded, a faint smile on her lips.
“Come.” Nigel motioned to Anna, and both Gatsby and Lady Macbeth followed him down the long hallway with the fascinatingly terrifying wall sconces. Harper followed.
“The sconces, they’re … interesting,” Harper said as they passed an ornately carved wooden door.
“My grandfather designed them, they are a source of particular pride. The Lady Bell of the day encouraged a great deal of artistic expression in the manor. My father had a great talent for wood carving in addition to serving as butler and personal valet for the Lady Bell. My grandfather was also Lady Bell’s personal butler, as am I,” Nigel replied. The cats scampered ahead.
“You said your family had worked with Lady Bell for a very long time,” Harper said as she stared from side to side at not only the sconces but also the oil paintings of hillsides and ocean cliffs that lined the space.
“Yes, we have, though in differing capacities. My mother was Lady Bell’s personal accountant, rest her soul, and my daughter is head chef here at the Manor.
My family has always been at Bell Manor and we always will.
” Nigel paused. Harper nearly bumped into him as she refocused on looking ahead and not to the side.
He looked at her with dark eyes that seemed to hold the entire history of the manor.
“It is a great honor to meet Lady Bell, I am sincerely pleased for you.” With that, he turned and began walking again.
Harper knew she should be afraid, or suspicious.
She knew that every cult documentary, every creepy secret society biopic should be flashing through her head right now, but it wasn’t.
Whatever this place was, it wasn’t that.
She wished desperately that Carli could see what she was witnessing, the people, the strange gothic grandeur of the place.
They passed several more doorways before reaching another set of carved double doors at the end of the hallway.
The passageway continued to the right. Nigel saw her staring.
“If you continue on, you will loop through the servants’ lower floor quarters and into the kitchen.
It was designed this way so the original house staff would be on call not only for the dining room but also the lower floor family quarters.
Those were the doors we passed on our way here.
I am sure Lady Bell will give you a tour if you ask, but she really … ”
“Oughtn’t climb all those steps at her age …” Harper finished, the words rising out of her on their own accord.
“No, she oughtn’t.” Nigel looked amused. Lady Macbeth mewed, a scratchy rasp of a sound, and pawed at the double doors. “We are here. Are you ready, Harper Hafdóttir, to meet Lady Loreana Bell?”