Damn. I only just found out that I accidentally overwrote this chapter. Anyway, I don't own Hellsing. And sorry. Things should make a little more sense now. :D
I leaned against the door outside her office, head bowed, feeling my hands shake. No wonder my first impression of my cousin compared her to a statue – the woman was as hard and unyielding as rock! She'd had this little file on her desk, and from it, proceeded to lay out my life, from my place of birth (Versailles, France), to my scholastic records (academically excellent, athletically poor), to the fact that none of my relatives were living. When she'd asked it there was anything she'd missed, I'd added that I could juggle, in the hope I'd get her to crack a smile. It hadn't worked.
She'd bluntly informed me that the cellars and the firing range were off limits unless I was escorted, then told me I was dismissed and that Walter would take me on a tour. I staggered out the door, so stunned at my unexpected dismissal that I didn't think to ask why she needed a firing range.
My breathing was a little more even by the time the butler showed up. My heart thundered in my chest and I jumped when he called my name. I pressed a hand to my chest and tried by sheer willpower to calm my heartbeat as he made a beckoning gesture to me. "Come along, Miss Du Prion. I'm to give you the grand tour."
"Oh," was all I managed. I fell into step with the old man, fighting a losing battle with myself. "Is she always like that?" I blurted.
"Excuse me?" he asked curiously.
"My cousin, Integra. Is she always so… restrained?" I substituted restrained for the word I really wanted to use, which was 'cold'.
"Sir Integra?" He paused a step, as if considering it for the first time. "Yes, I suppose she has." We had cleared the steps and were moving towards the doors to the side of the grand entryway. He opened one of them into a dining hall. "This will be where your meals will be served. Breakfast and luncheon will be buffet style, but dinner will start at 7 pm." And I knew his little comment would be all I would get from him about my cousin.
"So, why does my cousin have a firing range?" I asked as we moved back into the entry way and down the front steps, hoping to startle another honest answer out of him. But the butler just smiled.
"I believe that's for Sir Integra to tell you in her own time. But for now, would you like to see it? You could also meet the rest of our… staff."
I heard the pause before the word, but found myself nodding. I gave a resigned, internal sigh. What else do I have to do? I thought, as I followed the retainer through the sunshine.
Half an hour later I was wondering why I'd been so stupid. I had a rifle socked into my shoulder, which ached from the recoil, and I was getting angrier by the second. The other people in the room, the mercenary troop the Wild Geese, were snickering every time I missed – which was every shot. I think their captain, Pip Bernadotte, noticed how mad I was getting by my clenched jaw and bared teeth.
"Yer not aiming right. The guns' gonna kick a shocker – get ready for it."
I sighed, tensed up, and pulled the trigger again. The snicker went up again, but I felt a small sense of achievement – I'd blown a small hole in the upper right hand corner of the paper target.
"Good," the young captain approved. "Again."
By the last shot in the gun I was managing to hit the target somewhere in the black outline. I smiled at Pip as he took the rifle away. At least he'd managed to get my mind off my audience, and the audience had wandered off when it was clear I would no longer react. "Thanks," I said. "That was, um, instructional."
He grinned back. "Any time." He gave me a lazy salute as Walter came back to claim me. We moved away from the range in silence. I could help but massage my right shoulder.
"I could show you the gardens next, Miss Du Prion," he offered.
"Actually," I replied, wincing, "if you could show me some ice, I'd be more grateful."
After chilling my shoulder for a while, Walter took me on a tour of the grounds. There were some of the most beautiful gardens I'd ever seen, and roses bloomed in profusion. I saw the motor pool, the barracks, the rest of the mansion, and was pleasantly shocked at the library. The butler hurried me out of it before I really got a chance to examine any of the books, though, telling me there'd be time for that later. As we recrossed the entrance heading for the dining hall and lunch, I pointed out the staircase leading down. "What's down there?" I asked, my face and voice as innocent as I could make them.
"Oh, nothing really," he said, his face turned away. "Just a few old rooms we don't use much."
"Then why do I need an escort to go down there?"
"It's a rat warren of passages," Walter replied, opening the door to the dining hall. "You could easily get lost." I nodded as if I believed him, and followed him through to the food. What the hell is going on here? I thought to myself. Everything in this house is a damn secret. I piled a plate with food and sat down at the large table. I'd better get some answers soon; otherwise I'm liable to snap.
Walter turned to leave, and I called out to him. "Aren't you eating?"
"I have other things to do," he replied, but not unkindly. "I'll return after your meal."
Hastily, I waved a hand, hoping to forestall him. "I'll be fine. I'll go spend some time in the gardens." I looked down at my plate and realised how much food I'd grabbed. "And probably nap," I added.
He nodded slowly. "If you're certain…" he left it hanging, then gave a little shrug. "Dinner is at seven, so do not be late." He turned and exited, and I noticed a little limp in his right leg. He must be pushing eighty, I thought, surely he should have retired by now. I gave a little shrug of my own, and then applied myself to my food. Oh well, that's not my problem.
I had no intention of going into the gardens. As soon as I was done eating, I was going down into that cellar, Integra be damned. I realised that I was planning on doing something solely on the basis that it would piss her off if I was found out, but I didn't care. I even found myself smiling as I finished my meal. I rose, and looked down at the plate, then around the room. A figure dressed in a white apron approached, bobbed a little curtsey, and took the dish away. Great, I don't even have to do my own dishes. Happily, I left the room and slipped towards the stair case leading down, the thrill of adventure coursing through me.
It took a lot of effort to push the iron door open, and it made a terrible noise. Hastily, I slipped through when it was wide enough to accommodate me, then creaked it closed. The widely spaced lights seemed dim when compared to the dark, but there was still enough light to see by. Some rat warren, I thought, looking at the corridor that lead straight from the stairs and down a corridor. I moved down the stairs, my steps echoing strangely from the stone. Trying a few doors, I found them all locked, to my disappointment. What, did you think Integra kept the severed heads of her husbands down here? I giggled a little at the image, then realised that the Ice Maiden would never have been married. Ever.
My disappointment rose as I rounded a corner, still trying doors. There was nothing here. So why the hell was she so damned obvious about wanting to keep me away? I came around another corner and stopped, surprise on my face. There was a table and a high backed chair sitting in the middle of the corridor, with a bottle of wine and a few glasses sitting on the tabletop. A bare bulb dangled from the ceiling, lighting the scene quite well. The chair itself had a deep pit in the leather, as if someone spent a lot of time sitting in it. This is it? My cousin has a little hide away where she comes to get drunk, and she doesn't want to share it? I laughed out loud, my breath stirring the cobwebs that festooned the ceiling.
"That so twigs," I said aloud. "She comes down here and drinks alone in the dark." I laughed again, and then walked forwards. Hesitating for only a moment, I settled into the chair and ran a finger over the glass on the table, where it was conveniently at my elbow. It was surprisingly comfortable, the leather a deep red and pinned in place by brass tacks. She must spend a lot of time down here, I thought. Who would have picked it? I sank back, lifting one foot onto my knee and looking around. It was private and absolutely silent. No noise from upstairs filtered down to this little hideaway. I glanced at the bottle, then gave a little grin and pulled it towards me. The wine inside was viscous, clinging to the sides as it sloshed around.
As I went to pull the cork, I heard a noise behind me. I frowned, putting down the bottle. "Hello?" I called out, then immediately felt stupid. Who else is dumb enough to be down here? But for some reason, the skin between my shoulder blades was crawling. I stood up and looked around into the darkness behind the chair, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. "Hello?" I demanded again, so sure that someone was watching me. Fear crawled in my stomach, not a comfortable feeling after the size my lunch was. What the hell is going on here? I began to back towards the entrance, feeling stupid, but still feeling scared. It was as if the shadows were moving, crawling with a life of their own, coming towards me. I didn't wait to see any more, but spun and raced for the stairs.
Panting, I climbed them, yanking the door wide and running through, pulling it closed behind me. I rested my back against it, my legs shaking. Great, just great. My cousin lives in a haunted house, I thought. I pulled myself up the stairs, and after checking to make sure no one was watching, I slipped across the hall and out into the sunshine, immediately feeling better with its gentle light on my skin. I padded into the largest garden I could find, and sank down, resting my back against a tree.
Sitting in the sun, feeling safe and secure, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. A weak laugh escaped me as I though about what had just happened. "Girlie girl, you got the heebie-jeebies bad," I said aloud. "It's just a cellar." I smiled then. "All your life you've wanted to see a ghost, and the one time you may get the chance, you run like demons are on your tail." Opening my eyes, I watched the patterns of shade and light dance across the lush grass. "Idiot."
Surrounded by the scent of growing things, a feeling of contentment began to fill me. I lay down, half in the sun, half in shade, and watched the bugs crawl, trying to sort out my first impressions of this place. All right, number one, Integra is pretty much a bitch. Number two, everyone else seems ok. The butler is British enough to make my hair hurt, but I can deal. Number three, the cellar is haunted. I laughed again. How can she stand it down there? She must have nerves of ice to match the exterior. Watching the bugs crawl busily amongst the grass, I lapsed into thinking about home. Since it's a Sunday, they would have just finished lunch after mass. They'd be cleaning up the dishes, laughing and joking, enjoying the quiet and the respite from the students. Sasha would have been scolded at least once for blasphemy by now, I thought, a wistful smile curling my lips. And then they'll settle down to do the marking and the next weeks' lesson plans in the main hall, enjoying each other's company. Michelle and Mari would be trading good-natured teasing about each other's teaching methods.
I rolled onto my back. Well, it was your stupid idea to come here; I scolded myself, so just live with it. Folding my arms beneath my head, I allowed the hypnotic movement of the trees' branches to lull me into sleep.
I woke up when I got cold. I glanced at my watch and swore. 6:57 pm. "Dammit!" I exclaimed, lunging to my feet and running for the house. Dishevelled and grass stained, I burst through the dining hall door at a run, grabbing at it as I passed in an attempt to slow my forward momentum. What really stopped me was surprise. Walter was present, and the same damn maid, but my cousin was nowhere to be seen. Walter held a chair for me, his glance taking in everything about my appearance. He said nothing, but every muscle in his body spoke of his disapproval. I crept into my chair, and sat, looking down at my grass stained hands. The maid placed a bowl of water at my elbow and a towel, and, gratefully, I washed my hands. There was a tug at my hair, and I turned to see the butler removing a twig from my braid. I felt myself blush, and looked down again to hide it. I could have sworn I heard laughter in his voice when he spoke.
"Sir Integra regrets that she will not be able to join you for dinner this evening."
"She doesn't really, does she?" I asked before I could stop myself, looking up. I saw his jaw muscles twitch as he obviously swallowed a smile.
"I think perhaps you should retire after you've finished your meal," he said, "and not wander about the… halls." Damn, how did he find out?
"I'll be good," I said meekly. He gave a slight bow.
"Then I will bid you good evening, Miss." He turned and left the room once again, and I thought about just how often I saw the man's back. The maid began serving the food, and, as the soup was placed in front of me, I considered once again just how strange this place was. Life styles of the rich and shameless indeed, I harrumphed internally. Sipping from the wine glass in front of me, I sighed softly. At least someone had good taste in wine. And hopefully I could get tipsy enough to ignore the questions that were screaming at me. I sighed again and started on the soup.
When I made my way to my bed, I was more than a little tipsy. I'd asked the maid to leave the bottle, and dutifully, she had. Five glasses later, I pulled on my nightdress and crawled into bed, leaving the balcony doors open to catch the evening breezes. Alcohol fuelled tiredness washed over me, and, gratefully, I fell asleep.
