Chapter Two: Faceless
Christopher Thorn, the bachelor distant cousin that was soon to be my legal guardian, replied promptly to Mr. Bindley's letter. He was glad that I had chosen to come stay with him and was looking forward to meeting me.
Today, I was to leave my childhood home in departure for a home I'd never seen, to live with a man I had yet to meet, a man I hadn't even known existed until recently. Leaving the house and all the wealth within wasn't very hard. It was leaving behind the memories that bothered me most. I was born in my father's house. My mother died there. All the happy memories I carried with me were made there. As I closed the door for the final time, I felt my childhood take it's final breaths and die within my heart. That part of my life was over and even if I came back to the house one day, I'd never have it back.
Out of all my worldly possessions, I took only what I truly needed. The expensive imported dresses that my father had given me were left behind in favor of the cheap and patched one's I wore when playing outside with the animals. I left all the jewelry I owned, save for my mother's wedding ring, which I wore about my neck on a golden chain. Out of a house filled to the brim with stuff, I came out with only one small suitcase of things and a fluffy golden dog. I'd given away all my other pets. My pony, Persephone, my cats Romeo and Juliet, my father's fox hounds, even the pair of silly goats I'd saved from the butcher's knives, had been sent to better homes in the countryside. It was only Foxy that I refused to part with. Father had given her to me as a Christmas present and she'd been faithfully at my side ever since. She seemed to understand the sorrow in my heart. She let me cry into her fur for hours without complaint and licked the fallen tears from my cheek. Without her, I feared that I'd fall apart. I wasn't sure if Mr. Thorn would approve of her presence, but I simply had to keep her.
"Hurry now, Miss Craft." Mr. Bindley scolded shrewdly from within his fine black carriage. "You mustn't dawdle. Mr. Thorn is expecting you within the next few hours."
With a discreet sigh and role of my eyes, I passed my suitcase to a young coachman. "This all you have, Miss?" He asked, looking at the modest bag and the grand home it came from with a look of utter befuddlement.
"Yes it is." I answered. "That is all that I need." I smiled slightly at him, before I moved away to climb into the carriage.
"You're bringing that dog?" Asked Mr. Bindley, glaring at poor Foxy with disapproval. "Couldn't you have given it away like your other pets?"
"I couldn't bare to part with her." I replied softly, trying my best to keep my boiling rage out of my voice. "Besides, I'm sure Mr. Thorn won't mind me keeping a little lap dog."
"Take her if you like, but don't be surprised if he asks you to get rid of it." He said sourly.
I tightened my arms around Foxy, holding her ever closer to my heart. It? Foxy wasn't an it! Mr. Bindley was an it! When I looked at him I felt like I was looking at a corpse, rather than a live person. He was ugly inside and out. I'd be glad when I was rid of him. Why father chose him to be the executor of his will was beyond me. Still, his words put a grain of worry in my thoughts. What if Mr. Thorn didn't let me keep her? Would I soon lose the only friend I had left?
I forced the thought from my head. I turned my body more towards the window, forcing myself to watch the scenery and forget that there was even the possibility of losing the friend in my arms. I wouldn't face it, not until I had no other choice.
The tall buildings of London, slowly faded away into long expanses of forest and fields filled with crops. From time to time, small farm houses would appear beyond the fields. The countryside was much quieter than the city, I could see, for we rarely passed another living soul on the road. The only sound that came to my ear was the rhythmic pounding of the horses' hooves on the dirt road. I closed my eyes for what I thought would only be a moment.
I stood upon at pitching ship. Waves crashed over the bow. Men scrambled to their posts, in a feeble attempt to keep the ship afloat. The ship rolled from side to side as it was tossed violently in the waves, as if it were Poseidon's favorite toy. The fact that I stood so still on the deck, without tumbling over the sides was remarkable. Over the wind and waves, I could hear a man barking orders. "That's it boys, keep her steady! We'll get her through this! I won't loose this ship to the water!" I turned and looked up at where the captain stood, steering the ship. There my father was, gripping the wheel with all his might. Why was he steering? He was no captain. He merely owned the boat and paid the wages of the sailors. "Brace yourselves!" He shouted as another wave crashed over the ship. Water rushed over the Beatrix' s deck, covering us all. Water rolled over my head and flowed into my open, screaming mouth. My lungs choked on the invading water. They ached as I reached towards the surface, the Beatrix being pulled further and further beneath the twisting sea.
My vision blurred and darkened, death taking hold. Then, just as I was about give up, a red rose drifted in front of my face. A man's rich voice, deep and soothing echoed in my head. "Isabel, take this rose and remember me." I reached for the rose, but my fingers never touched it, though it seemed so close. It drifted further from reach and I felt the last shattered pieces of my heart crumble to dust as I died.
"Miss, wake up." Commanded Mr. Bindley, nudging my side with the handle of his cane. I blinked awake, finding myself still shaking from the terrible dream. Was that the horrible end that my father met? I hoped and prayed that he did not feel as lonely and terrified as I had been in the dream. I hoped against hope that he hadn't suffered, knowing deep down that he probably did.
Foxy and I climbed out of the carriage and peered up at the impressive mansion that was to be our new home for the next year. It was expansive, its form built entirely of red bricks. It had several high pitched roofs and tall windows, which curved at the tops. I counted at least three chimneys. The entire estate was surrounded by a fence, made of twisted iron. Rose vines climbed over it and looped through the bars. The soft red roses bloomed beautifully, despite the chill in the autumn air. The entire lawn and surrounding garden was lush and green. It was an Eden, yet untouched by the harsh hand of the coming winter.
"Come along." Mr. Bindley ordered, hobbling ahead of us with his cane.
Petting Foxy for reassurance, I followed Mr. Bindley to the front door of the mansion. He reached for the large knocker, which looked like the head of a lion, his mouth opened in a fearsome roar. He knocked on the door only once, before the door swung open. We entered the front hall, expecting to be greeted either by the master of the house himself, or by a servant. Instead, we were met with emptiness and silence. The front hall's floors were made of polished white marble. It flowed into a sitting room to our left and an enormous dining room to our right. The long table in the dining room was bare, without place settings or even a candlestick. It looked as though it had been left unused for weeks. There was a small table beside the base of the winding staircase in front of us. Upon it sat a simple vase, filled with a bouquet of roses of every color and shade I could imagine. Above it, the wall was oddly bare. The golden wallpaper, endowed with rose vines that climbed up and down the length of the wall, seemed to be newer in one spot than the rest of the wall, as if something had once hung there, shading it from damaging dust and ware.
"Hello!" Mr. Bindley called out. His voice bounced back at him from the depths of the grand house. "Mr. Thorn, I've brought Miss Craft!"
I looked around and above me. The ceiling was very high and above my head hung a beautiful chandelier. However, its lights were left unlit, as were the sconces by the door. The only light in the house came through the windows. I was struck by how empty the house seemed. It was not filled with things as my own house was. It contained only the bare necessities. No money had been wasted on decorating it or even making it seem lived in. In fact, it was as if the house had been abandoned.
"Perhaps he's in the garden." Mr. Bindley mused and motioned to open the door again. He suddenly stopped as footsteps echoed above us from the next floor up. We listened as the footsteps grew nearer, making their way down the winding staircase before us. A pair of large boots appeared on a lightened step, the rest of the body hidden in darkness. The man stopped and didn't come down further.
"Thank you for coming." Said the man in a pleasant and richly deep voice. "I am sorry to have been an inconvenience to you, Mr. Bindley. I thank you for escorting my cousin here."
I peered through the darkness, trying my hardest to catch a glimpse of my guardian's face, but all that I could see was the gleam of his eyes. They seemed to glow a bright blue. It eerily reminded me of the way a nocturnal animal's eyes shone at night.
As I was doing so, his voice took on a malicious edge. "Leave now." He ordered, nearly growling at the old man. Mr. Bindley and I both jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice. Clearing his throat and mumbling to himself, Mr. Bindley rushed from the house, closing the door too harshly behind him.
Mr. Thorn sighed heavily. "I despise lawyers. They're a slimy bunch." He said, his bright eyes glaring at the door. They shifted towards me and the shine left them. I could see now that his eyes were actually a lovely silver grey. "So you are Peter Craft's daughter?" He inquired, chuckling huskily. "I have to admit I'm pleasantly surprised. You're prettier than I thought you'd be."
"Thank you." I replied automatically, unsure of how complimentary that statement was, but blushing nonetheless.
"What is that thing?" He asked, the growl seeping in again as he noted Foxy's presence.
"My dog, Foxy. I know I should have given her away before I came, but I just couldn't." I explained, stubbornly keeping the tears swallowed back. "Do you mind if I keep her? I promise she won't be a bother."
His eyes narrowed at me. "Keep her out of my sight and it shouldn't be an issue." He said coldly. "If I find her roaming about on her own, I can't guarantee her safety."
"You wouldn't!" I gasped in horror, holding Foxy so tight the poor dog could barely take a full breath. There was such a cold feeling to his words, so void of any human compassion that it truly frightened me. He meant what he said.
"You're in my home now, Miss Craft. You must respect my rules."
"I'm not a child." I retorted, glaring back at him.
"No, but you are in my care." He replied evenly. "I am not asking too much of you. The restrictions that I have placed on you are minor." He lifted up his hand and waved it around before him, gesturing to the expanse of his mansion. He had impossibly large hands, covered in thick leather gloves. "First, you will have full range of my mansion, save for the third floor, which is solely my suite. You may take any room you like on the first and second floors. You are not, under any circumstances to venture onto the third floor. Secondly, you may take breakfast, lunch and tea in your room, but for dinner you must dine with me. Dinner is always served at six. No exceptions. And you must dress accordingly. If you do not have fine dresses, I will have them provided to you. Thirdly, keep your little dog away from me. Any questions?" He asked, shifting from side to side on the step. It creaked noisily in protest against his weight.
"Won't you come down and meet me properly. I still have yet to see your face." I said, pushing aside my aggravation. It's only a year. I reminded myself. Only a year.
I couldn't see a single detail through the darkness that shrouded him, yet I could hear the smile in his voice. "We will meet properly at dinner tonight I assure you. Until then, feel free to wander the halls. If you need anything, my servants will attend you."
I looked around to look for any signs of others in the house and just as I turned back to ask what servants he spoke of, I saw that he was gone from his place upon the stairs. I hadn't heard him ascend again.
I took his advice and wandered the first and second floors of the mansion. Foxy followed at my heels. I was sadly disappointed by the man I met today. He was entirely different from the one I imagined after reading the letter and receiving the brilliant rose. I had thought that he'd be kind. I was very much mistaken.
There wasn't much to see in the house. One room was just as bare as another, only holding a simple bed, perhaps a wardrobe or a chair as well. The marble floors ended on the first floor, the rest was laid with fine cherry wood. Though the furnishings were simple, there were roses everywhere. They were lovingly painted on the wall paper, carved intricately into the railing of the staircase, and appeared in the tapestries and rugs. Wherever there was an empty surface, there was at least one vase, filled with them. There were never any other flower. Only roses. Mr. Thorn obviously had a great fondness for them.
I ended up settling in one of the smaller rooms on the second floor. I chose it for the canopy bed, which like the staircase bore engravings of rose vines climbing around its posts and a giant open rose at the center of the headboard. I found it odd that unlike the other rooms I'd seen, the bed had already been made, with fabrics of rich crimson and golden silk.
I laid my humble suitcase on the bed. I sat Foxy beside it. She curled up there and tried to sleep. Opening up the suitcase, I withdrew the crimson rose that Mr. Thorn had sent to me with his letter. It had sat in a vase by my bedside ever since I received it. It had never withered and still had yet to open it's petals any further. It still appeared to be fresh from the bush it had been cut from. I brought the flower to my nose and inhaled its scent deeply. It once again filled my heart with relief, easing the ache in my chest. "How could anyone who was kind enough to send such a powerful gift, be so cold?" I asked the open air. Foxy stirred slightly, opening her eyes to look at me and just as quickly closing them again. I thought of throwing it away. Mr. Thorn was not the kind hearted gentleman I'd hoped he was. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I placed it inside one of the three bouquets of other perfect roses that sat on the vanity by the bed.
Just as I did so, there was a gentle knock at the door. Opening it, I found a man in a butler's black and white uniform standing on the other side, but instead of a kindly human face a plain Venetian mask stared blankly back at me. No human eyes met mine, only blackened darkness. Stunned silent, I stared at him. Without a word, he bowed and presented me with a box wrapped up with a bow.
"Thank you." I said weakly as I took it from him. He bowed again and wheeled away, quickly disappearing around the bend at the end of the hall.
Bewildered to say the least, I opened the gift to find a luxurious gown within. It was a sapphire blue with crystals sewed into the bodice. The skirt was full with many bustles and pick ups. My father had given me many ornate gowns, but never one quite so grand. On top of it lay a card which simply stated: Wear this at dinner. There are shoes to match in the wardrobe. It was written in Mr. Thorn's familiar terrible handwriting.
Opening the wardrobe, I found the shoes. They were silver with what looked like real sapphires set in the buckles. I felt like I was about to go to a ball rather than a simple dinner. Though the gown and shoes were lovely, I had misgivings for wearing such a flashy thing while still in morning. It wasn't proper. I'd never really cared about following the rules of etiquette, but to change out of my mourning black so quickly after my father's demise felt wrong. Therefore, the sapphire dress and shoes were put away in the wardrobe for another day in favor for one of my nicer black gowns. Surely he'd understand.
After changing and penning up my hair, I left Foxy in my room while I went down for dinner at six. I went, not out of obedience but purely curiosity. This would be the first time meeting Mr. Thorn face to face.
As I rounded the corner into the dining room, I saw a bustle of energy. A room that just an hour before was bare and empty was now beautifully decorated, with a table laden with all kinds of delicacies and crowded with maids and butlers all wearing black and white uniforms and expressionless masks with empty eyes. At the center of the mass of servants, a man stood with his back to me. He was extremely large, built like an ox, thick and powerful looking. He wore a jacket of the same blue as the gown I'd been given. His hair was honey gold and it was wild, falling about his head and shoulders in complete disarray. Some of it stuck up away from his head completely.
"Mr. Thorn?" I inquired. Who else could this man be? I recognized the slightly scuffed boots and the leather gloves on his hands. The servants all turned their blank faces towards me, their eyeless eyeholes glaring accursedly at me.
The man stiffened at the sound of my voice. "Miss Craft." His voice was a low breath. "You are early."
"Only by a few minutes." I said, glancing at a grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room. I was early by five minutes.
"It is fine. I was still in the middle of preparing for you." He said, his back still to me. His hands raised to clutch the back of a chair as though he needed the extra support.
"Won't you turn around?" I asked. "You promised a proper meeting tonight." I reminded him, taking a careful step forward. From the entrance way, the chandelier came to life, the lights lighting all on their own accord. It bathed the house in light. Somehow, Mr. Thorn's hair looked even odder than before.
"I did promise, didn't I?" He said, sounding breathless. "Before I turn around, will you promise not to be frightened? Will you promise not to scream?" He asked. I noticed that his shoulders seemed to be trembling. He was frightened. Of what, I wasn't sure.
"Why would I scream?" I asked. I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach.
"Do you promise?" He repeated firmly.
"Yes." I replied, growing more and more nervous by the second.
Slowly and hesitantly, he began to turn around. As he did so, more and more of his face was enveloped in light, revealing the horror that he'd warned me of. Christopher Thorn was not a man at all. He was beast wearing human clothes! Before I could catch myself, I let out a scream. I broke my promise. I ran.
I darted from the room, fleeing from my monstrous guardian. My first instinct was to find Foxy. I couldn't leave her in this place, to be killed and eaten by that thing. What was he? I wondered. Could my eyes be trusted? What I'd seen hadn't made any sense. A man with the head of a lion? How could that be? What devil had he made a deal with?
I could hear him roaring from the dining room, snapping orders to the faceless servants. "Lock the doors! Seal the gate! We can't let her escape!" He snarled threateningly. Then the sound of rushing footsteps followed, firm and heavy on the marble floor. They shifted and changed to the sound of something sharp scraping across the glossy surface.
I was running as fast as I possibly could in a dress, yet it wasn't long before the scratching and heavy breathing were right behind me. Suddenly a solid, strong arm, seized me by the waist and dragged me back. He pinned me against a wall, his gloveless hands gripping my arms at either side of my head. I could see now that although the hands were human, they were covered in pale golden fur and the nails were sharp and pointed. "Stop it! Stop, you ungrateful girl!" He raged at me as I thrashed in his grip, flashing long, sharp teeth mixed with blunted human teeth. "Out of all your retched kin, I was the only one who cared enough to open my doors to you! And this is how you repay me? By running and screaming like I'm the devil himself!"
"You're a monster!" I cried out, turning my face away from his snarling muzzle, finding his teeth far too close for comfort. His hands tightened around my wrists, sending a wave of pain shooting through my arms. I screamed again. "Stop! You're hurting me!"
At once, he released me and reeled away. He spat a curse at himself. His eyes were wide and wild. A strange look, almost like fear, but more like terror crossed his lion's face. His breath coming out in a shutter, he looked down at his hands. He rubbed at them and wiped them on his pants as though they were covered in something terrible. "I am sorry." He said weakly, his voice barely there as he spoke beneath his breath. "I- I didn't mean." He looked up at me with an expression that reminded me of a child that was moments away from crying. "I never intended to hurt you, Miss Craft. I just don't want you to run from me. I am not a monster. I know I look like one, but I'm not, I assure you."
I rubbed my wrists, easing the pain, as I stared at him. "What are you?" I blurted.
"A man." He answered. "Or I used to be…a long time ago. I became this for reasons I cannot say. I'm afraid I am forbidden from telling you more." He lowered his hands and his head. He glared at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. "Please believe me when I say that I do not intend on eating you or your dog. I only want to help you and frankly I need the companionship."
"Are you really my cousin?" I asked, studying the bizarre sight in front of me. From the chest down, he looked entirely human, save for the fur and claws. From the neck up was head of a lion, with the exception of his eyes which were very much human when in the light.
He glanced up at me sheepishly, his eyes daring to go as far as my mouth, but no further. "No….well, not by blood…probably not even legally." He spoke mostly in a mumble now.
"What? I don't understand." I prodded him for answers.
"I will explain at a later time." He promised. "Forgive me, but in light of this disastrous first meeting, I think I will eat in my quarters." He walked quickly past me and started to climb the stairs. He stopped on the sixth step and looked back at me. "Miss Craft." He said my name with hesitation.
"Yes?" I asked, still breathing heavily.
He opened his wide mouth to say something. He got out only, "I", before shutting it again. "Never mind." He muttered absently and rushed up the remaining steps, taking two or three at a time. I watched him ascend. At the top, he went on all fours to climb the remaining stairs.
Still shaking from the shocking events, I ate only a few bites of my dinner. My only dining companions were the voiceless, eyeless, faceless servants, who watched me dine from their places along the walls. When I tried to start a conversation with them, they all merely tilted their heads curiously.
Afterwards, I dragged myself to my bedroom. Foxy was still sleeping when I arrived, unaware of the unsettling events I'd jut gone through. A part of me wanted to pack my things and run for the hills. It couldn't be healthy to live with a beast, however I knew that would be impossible. I'd sealed my fate as soon as I entered the house. Those servants would never allow me to leave. Gloomily, I dressed for bed and let down my hair. It turned out to be quite easy, considering most of it had come loose when I was running away from my guardian.
There was a soft tapping at my door. I gave a great sigh as I was not in the mood to endure more eerie stares from the creepy staff. Curiously, I watched as a piece of paper, folded in half and sealed with Mr. Thorn's rose seal was slipped under my door.
I picked it up and read it quietly to myself.
Will you marry me?
I stared at the words, confounded beyond belief. There was no mistaking the lopsided, squiggly handwriting. After all that had transpired, he had the nerve to ask me such a thing? Was it a joke? I found a quill and some ink in the drawer of my vanity. With a firm hand, I wrote the word, "No!", in large, bold letters at the bottom of the note. I shoved it back under the door for the servants to retrieve.