Chapter 6
six
. . .
rupert
This is the second time this week I’ve been bloody furious at eight in the morning.
When I can’t sleep at night, which is painfully often, I wander the expansive grounds of the property.
Sometimes I simply stalk through the woods searching for prey, for a deer or a rabbit I can tear open with my claws and do what I was made to do.
There’s no feeling in the world like ripping into hot flesh, drinking the blood and then devouring the raw meat.
Human me would have been disgusted, horrified. But the monster craves it. The monster loves to leap onto a wild creature, pinning it to the ground and eating it while it’s still alive. The monster is meant to destroy.
It’s while I’m covered in blood, licking off the remnants of my kill when I spot something bright through the trees. Is that… a headlight reflecting the moon?
I creep closer and find that it is in fact a car. A familiar car. Ms. Austin’s saloon, parked off to the side of the utility road where sometimes people from the water company come out to test the underground water levels.
I peer through the windshield in the darkness, and see her lying on the driver’s side seat, sleeping.
She is sleeping in her car in the middle of the woods, alone.
I see red after that. Why? Why would she be here, where she’s so vulnerable? Why wouldn’t she be tucked neat and safe in a bed somewhere, out of the cold? It’s October already, and it’s not warm any longer after the sun sets.
Instead of breaking into her car, as I’m very, very eager to do, I storm back to the manor and wake up Kellen from a dead sleep. I demand that we prepare a room for her, and in the morning, he will insist that she move in.
That is the only solution to this. If she cannot find a home to live in, then she will live here.
The words are final, and Kellen hastens to do my bidding.
peony
I’m hunched over the steering wheel, feeling like I’m headed to the gallows as I drive the rest of the dirt road to Edgewood Manor.
I’m definitely losing my job now. There’s no way I can survive this, discovered squatting on Mr. Edgewood’s property. I have no respectability left. Someone like me, homeless and living in her car, can’t be allowed to serve someone like him.
The stone sinks even deeper in my belly. I’m so terribly fucked. Just when it looked like there was a chance something might turn around… here I am again, chopped.
My heart’s nearly escaping my chest when I pull up in front of the manor. Mr. Castle stands there waiting, his expression impossible to read. I do so hate that about him. When I get out of the car, though, he doesn’t take my keys.
“I will help you carry your things inside to your new room,” he explains. “Then you will park where the other cars park.”
My new… room? I can’t have heard him right.
“Sorry, can you repeat that?”
He sighs impatiently and opens the back door of my car. “I’m here to help you bring in your belongings. You’re going to live here now.”
So I did hear him right the first time.
“Did Mr. Edgewood say this?” I ask, stopping him with a raised hand. “Someone’s just decided this? That I’m going to move into the Edgewood Manor?”
Mr. Castle gives me a truly perplexed look. “Where else would you go? You were living in your car when I found you. But now, you won’t have to. Mr. Edgewood wants you to be safe.”
Safe. The word rolls around my head. I don’t feel particularly safe right now, with a strange man demanding I move into his house, no questions allowed. I know nothing about him, and I’ve never even met him!
Everything about working here has been strange, but this takes the cake.
“You don’t have a home,” Mr. Castle says in a much quieter voice than before.
He comes down the steps to stand before me in a way that reminds me distinctly of my father before we stopped speaking.
“And Mr. Edgewood is offering you one, no costs, no strings attached. I dare say…” He lowers his volume even further.
“He has taken a liking to you, and was very upset to learn that you’ve been sleeping in the woods because you have no other choice.
Mr. Edgewood has a sympathetic heart and means no ill will.
” He straightens again and adjusts his collar.
“I live here, as well, in the east wing. You will be in the west wing, far separate, with your own living space that neither of us will encroach upon.”
I think this over. It is rather appealing when he presents it that way—that I’ll have a whole half of the manor to myself. But can I really trust Mr. Edgewood not to come into my bedroom in the middle of the night?
He did give me that cash advance, and now he wants to give me housing. I’d thought he was just an arrogant prick who considered himself above me, but I think instead there is something amiss with him, and not in a bad way. He’s just odd, and perhaps shy. To a concerning degree.
But I don’t think he’ll try to hurt me.
“I will install a new lock on your door and give you both of the keys,” Mr. Castle says, as if he knows the very thoughts passing through my mind. “But I promise you that Mr. Edgewood will not venture out of the east wing. You will never see him, just as you have not until now.”
“That’s almost more worrisome,” I say, twisting my hands together. “The fact that he hides, it makes me wonder all sorts of things.”
Mr. Castle’s lips harden in a thin line. “His story is his to tell,” he says. “Do you accept? Or are you going to go back to living in your car as fall turns to winter?”
I grit my teeth. He’s right. This really is the best option I have, as crazy as it seems.
Finally, I give in. I open the car door and grab my pillow and purse first.
“Fine,” I say. “Tell Mr. Edgewood thank you for me.” Mr. Castle nods. But before he can go, I add, “But he’s going to have to meet me sometime. It’s just too weird. I want to know what he’s hiding before I can actually feel safe here.”
He bows his head in understanding before helping me gather my things.
Mr. Castle carries a blanket under one arm, my duffel bag in his other hand as we reach the middle of the second floor in the west wing.
“Here,” he says, nodding to the door. “I set it up for you this morning.”
“Wait, what?” I drop my things to the floor. “What do you mean, this morning? You only found me this morning.”
He shakes his head. “Mr. Edgewood is the one who found you.”
“Are there cameras?” I ask.
But he doesn’t elaborate as I push open the door.
This is one of the rooms I just finished cleaning, but now there are new, white curtains hanging from the windows, and a fresh duvet with bright sheets on the bed in the bedroom.
“Thank you,” I say as he deposits my belongings on the closest table. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted you to feel welcome.” Mr. Castle offers a tentative smile. “Mr. Edgewood may be difficult at times, but I assure you that he means well. I have known him for many years, and he is a good man who only wants the best for you.”
Hmm. I don’t know how I feel about that. The last time a man wanted what was best for me, I quit my job and threw away years of my life as his prisoner.
“Thank you.” I stand up straight. “But I should probably get to work now.”
Mr. Castle gives me a searching look, then nods and steps out, leaving me alone.
Once I have my few meager clothes tucked away in a dresser drawer and my book sitting on the nightstand, I grab my vacuum and get started on the day.
I thought things would be different working in the manor now that I theoretically live here, but this sprawling building is just as mysterious to me today as it was yesterday. Why does one man need all this?
It’s nice to head back to my room and change before lunch, which is a relief when the morning began cold, so I wore a long-sleeve shirt. Now I’m so warm I’m sweating.
I throw together a chicken Caesar salad with homemade dressing and garlic bread croutons. It’s not long after that Mr. Castle returns with Mr. Edgewood’s plate and sets it down in front of me.
It looks like you’re settling in well.
-R
I take that to mean the food was good.
That afternoon, I finish up in the west wing. Next, I clean the tall windows that follow the stairs—with Mr. Castle’s help, who holds the ladder as I climb up. He mutters something about “liability.”
Luckily, I finish my task without falling, then move on to the east wing. I tell Mr. Castle I’ll clean his rooms tomorrow, and he bustles away to tidy up first.
For dinner, I cook blackened halibut with a spicy Cajun butternut squash, and while I’m feeling myself, I toss together a crumble with fresh blackberries that Mr. Castle picked up on a whim.
After rifling through the rather gratuitous liquor cabinet, I put together another cocktail that’s a riff on a bourbon drink I once had.
Then I send it all up with Mr. Castle and eagerly await Mr. Edgewood’s feedback.
The butler returns as I finish up cleaning and slides the plate across the counter.
Absolutely fantastic. You are a culinary wizard.
-R
I blush and tuck it in my pocket before adding the plate to the dishwasher.
Then, oddly, I have nothing else to do. I’d spent so long driving to and from the estate that now it’s only eight and I don’t need to be anywhere except my new room.
Hmm. I guess I’ll go get settled in.
Obviously, it’s only temporary here. As soon as I’ve saved up enough money, I’ll be getting an apartment of my own—if the weirdness of it doesn’t get to me first. I can’t possibly live at Edgewood Manor for the long term if I plan to work here, too.
Besides, I’m sure Mr. Edgewood’s generosity will run out eventually.
When I arrive at my room, the door has a shiny new knob with a pair of keys hanging from it.
It’s the lock that Mr. Castle promised me.
When I go inside, the air is cozy and warm, as if someone turned up the thermostat while I was away.
It’s a comfortable suite with a big bedroom, an attached study, a closet and a bathroom.
I don’t have anything to fill the closet with, but it’s fun to walk in and spin around with my arms held wide, imagining that it’s mine, stuffed to the gills with warm winter sweaters and cute summer dresses.
I head into the bedroom thinking I’ll spend the evening reading but stop in the doorway. There’s a small pile of items sitting on the chest at the foot of the bed. I step closer, wondering what Mr. Castle’s left for me.
Wrapped in a red ribbon is a set of ivory silk pajamas with a subtle flower pattern. They’re perfectly soft and smooth, like milk. Beside the pajamas sit a pair of fluffy ivory slippers, and next to those, two hardcover books.
There’s a note on top.
I hope I am not overstepping, but I thought you might be more comfortable in these. I saw that you like to read, and so I’m lending you my two favorite novels of last year.
-R
How does he know that? But something about the fact he’s lending me the books, rather than giving them to me, feels better.
I’m surprised by the pajamas—it’s such a sweet and welcoming gesture that I’m rather touched by it.
It reminds me of Christmas Eve with my dad, when he always got us new matching pajamas.
Yes, Mr. Edgewood is strange, but there’s also a kindness in him that’s becoming evident to me. He should have fired me when he found me sleeping in the woods on his property, but instead, he took me in without reprimand.
I just hope that whatever he’s hiding isn’t something that could harm me later.