A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been a bit distracted lately, but I really do feel confident now that updates will be more regular. The events of this chapter begin pretty much where the last chapter left off. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!
Kyle kept to his promise, and joined Eric in the drawing room after dinner. Once his tour of the house had finished, he spent the rest of the day in his bedroom, chatting with Bebe, and avoiding his host. Kyle was actually rather relieved to be performing one of his supposed duties. Strange as the terms of his employment were, he wanted to abide by them. Although he resented being told what to do without any kind of manners present, following orders was the only thing he could seem to make sense of in this odd house. So many questions remained unanswered, not just about the house's eerie history but Kyle's reason for being here in the first place. His curiosity was making him reluctant to execute his escape plan, collecting dust just like everything else.
Their evening meal had been delicious, and since Kyle had been punctual, warm too. A blushing pink salmon, with creamy herb sauce, and new potatoes glistening with butter had been waiting for him. They hardly ever ate fish at home, Kyle reminded himself not to become too accustomed to such luxury items. Still, the silence in which they ate the dinner allowed Kyle to fully savour their meal. They seemed to regard each other as phantoms, not looking up from their plates. Kyle was sat at one end of the long dining table, and Eric was sat at the other. Cutlery, a candelabra, and hostile unfamiliarity between them.
They were closer together in the cosier drawing room. Eric was slouching in his armchair by the fire, relaxing, Kyle imagined, like a bear would on the banks of a violent, unforgiving river, while he was sitting on the rather uncomfortable, shallow settee. The sky was darkening, the comforting, transparent day waning into night. The silence was stifling, and with the door shut, Kyle felt like he was trapped. Unless he decided to leap out of the bay window and run through the gardens, Eric was obstructing Kyle's only exit and he began to wonder if he was lured into a bear's den, rather than invited into a gentleman's drawing room. He could hardly broach the subject, but then again, he didn't feel like he could ask Eric anything. His host was staring at the fireplace, the coals smouldering in the grate, and his eyes seemed to be alight with calculation. If he wouldn't talk, then Kyle would have to prise his mouth open for some sort of explanation, discover his intentions. They must speak.
Kyle opened his mouth, but clamped it shut again when he heard a thud at the door. Eric lifted his head slowly.
"What?" he asked, directing his question to the door.
"Would you like some tea or coffee, sir?" Pip spoke from the hall.
"No, thank you!"
"Would our guest?"
Eric glanced at Kyle, and he blinked, shifting in his seat.
"Oh, y-y-yes, I would," Kyle replied. He was unsure if Pip could hear him, if he was even supposed to address him. "Thank you."
"Let them in, then."
Kyle bristled at Eric's orders, delivered in such a brusque manner, but got up and opened the door. He smiled when he saw an eager Pip and Butters waiting for him. It was difficult to comprehend that when Eric wasn't around he could feel comfortable in this house.
"Good evening, Kyle," Pip said.
"Good evening," Kyle replied with a nod.
"Sit, please sit!"
Kyle returned to his seat, and he heard the creak of the trolley wheels as Pip followed him. He made himself a cup of tea, lifting the cup and saucer off the trolley.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Pip replied, before the trolley wheeled away again.
The door remained open after Pip and Butters left, revealing the shadowy grand hall. Still, Kyle didn't want to close it, he felt like he could breathe easily when it was open. He sipped at the piping hot tea, before placing it on the small side table to let it cool down.
"Were the staff like that when you came here?" he asked.
"Like what?"
Eric was still preoccupied with the fire. Kyle arched an eyebrow at his nonchalance.
"Like objects, not people."
"No," Eric replied. "No, they were not."
"How long have you lived here?"
"All my life."
Kyle's breath caught on the weighty answer, even Eric's briefest responses were delivered with gravitas. Intrigue reverberated throughout him.
"You were born here?"
"Yes, I was."
"What happened to your parents?"
"They are long dead."
Kyle found himself shifting closer, and he watched Eric's large chest rise and fall. For once, there was no part of him that was afraid.
"I've heard there was a family living here once… a human family."
Eric's head slowly turned to look at Kyle, like it was effort for his muscles to manoeuvre a body so mighty. Kyle reached out for the cushion beneath him, the gilded thread felt coarse on his fingertips.
"Where did you hear that?" Eric asked.
"The village," Kyle replied, his voice faint. "Everybody knew who they were except for me, I wasn't born in South Park, you see."
"And what do they say about the family who used to live here?"
Kyle remembered Stan, cigarette in his mouth, the both of them looking out over the meadows as he recounted the demise of Tenorman Hall. It was only a short while ago, but the breeze, and the bleat of the goats, felt like history to Kyle now.
"That they were members of the gentry, unsurprisingly," Kyle replied, firmer now. "A small family too, they only had one son. But the father died before the child was born, and the mother passed away when their son was a young man. But he lost all their wealth, and nobody has seen him since. It's all very tragic."
Eric's eyes gleamed, his nostrils flared.
"I suppose…" he glanced at the door and rose. "I… I, I must go… "
"Oh…" Kyle's eyebrows furrowed, and his gut clenched. He had wanted desperately to know answers but was it worth it when he may have offended Eric? "Didn't you want to stay longer?"
"No, I just want to go to bed," Eric replied, he didn't look at Kyle as he marched to the door.
Kyle found himself leaping to his feet, in pursuit of his formidable host.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Eric spun around, looming over Kyle and appearing wilder than ever.
"Yes!" he roared.
Kyle jumped, and inched away, trembling as he stared up at Eric. But soon Eric sighed, his shoulders heaving and his eyes slipping shut.
"Yes," he whispered, before fixing his gaze on Kyle. "Yes, I'm sorry."
Kyle shook his head, lips pursed.
"It's fine," he replied. "Shall I see you in the morning?"
Eric nodded, shallow and distant.
"Good night, Eric."
Eric didn't return the sentiment, leaving Kyle to stand alone, trembling.
The following evening, Eric was pacing his bedroom again, waiting for Christophe's return. The outfit he had changed into for his meal was feeling more confining the longer he wore it, especially when he was walking on all fours. He prayed a seam wouldn't burst. He had to look his best for Kyle, he couldn't keep Kyle waiting in the dining room while he tried to sew the hole his shirt, or look for a new one. Although, what effort had Kyle made with him except shutting himself up in his room, staring at his plate during dinner, and interrogating him in the drawing room? Why did Kyle feel the need to ask so many questions? To shut himself away? Of course, Eric already knew the answers. This was no ordinary house, and he was no ordinary host.
Kenny and Gregory stopped muttering from his bedside table when they saw Christophe squeeze through the gap in the door, already open ajar.
"I have informed our guest that dinner will be ready shortly," he announced when he entered the room.
Eric nodded, still pacing. "Yes, thank you…"
"Something wrong, sir?" Kenny asked. He must have wanted to make such an enquiry the entire time he was in there.
"No, no, I'm just… concerned," Eric replied. "Nothing has improved between us and the rose just seems to be wilting faster."
His staff all glanced at each other. Eric was growing tired of their wary expressions that hadn't diminished in ten years. Gregory, as always, spoke up.
"But, sir you just have to give it-"
"Time!" Eric cut in. "I know that!"
"It's only been two days!"
"But I don't have time! And I have no clue what he's feeling other than fear!" Eric turned his head, and winced. "You should have seen how frightened he was last night."
"Only because you lost your temper," Christophe pointed out.
"I know I did!" Eric snapped. "But he keeps pestering me for answers, and how can I tell him the truth? I can't! Not now! It will put everything at risk!"
"You just need to change the subject," Gregory replied. "Engage him in conversation."
"What should I say?" Eric despaired. "I have no idea how to impress him, or endear myself to him."
"You don't have to impress him, just ask him questions," Kenny replied.
"You know so little about him, I'm sure he would appreciate it," Christophe added.
"Fine," Eric sighed, although he suspected that Kyle would greet any questions about his life with hostility, Eric knew he would. "I must go to dinner, he'll be expecting me."
He left the room without another word, prowling down the staircase before rising on his two legs when he reached the last step. Even now, it felt dizzying standing at such a height, viewing the house he had once toddled around as an infant from such a lofty stature. His claws tapping the carpet echoed only slightly, the sound surely lost once it reached the high window. Just like this house, lost in time. When Eric entered the dining room it was empty, and when he glanced at the clock he saw that he was actually two minutes early.
He took his seat, and soon a trolley entered the room through one of the side doors. It creaked as it wheeled itself over to the table, the two china plates rattling. When it stopped in front of Eric, he took the plate of lamb and the small dish of mint sauce from the tray. The trolley then made its way to Kyle's empty seat and waited dutifully.
Eric had managed to get a grip on his knife and fork when he heard Kyle's footsteps down the stairs. He soon heard him march across the hall and into the dining room, swift and tense. Eric kept his head lowered, but glanced at Kyle when he said;
"Good evening."
Kyle paused, and glanced at Eric too, unsure if he should answer.
"Good evening," he replied.
He marched to his end of the table, but not before Eric could notice he had a book tucked under his arm. He watched Kyle collect his dinner, before placing the book on his lap and his napkin over that. An effective shield, when Eric needed Kyle to let his guard down.
In the drawing room, Kyle was more reserved than he was the night before. It seemed that Eric's coarse reaction to his questions had stunned him into compliant silence. He had followed Eric from the dining room into the drawing room, brushing past him and by the time Eric had shut the door, Kyle had settled on the settee and opened his book, immersed already. Eric could have snatched the book off him, threw it into the fire, and demanded Kyle speak to him, but what would be the point? Eric had to help cultivate Kyle's fondness of him, not frighten him into submission. But sitting in his armchair, quiet and helpless, wasn't getting him anywhere. He would fester there if he didn't act; feral and unloved forever. What could he say though, that would make Kyle want to engage in conversation? But perhaps he wasn't as absorbed in his book as he seemed, when his eyes occasionally drifted from the page, meeting Eric's persistent gaze.
Clearing his throat, Eric asked; "What are you reading?"
Kyle looked up from the book, eyes widened. Eric's shoulders hunched, like he was sinking into his evening shirt.
"Oh, uh, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde," Kyle replied with a smile, looking at the cover like he needed to be reminded. "Robert Louis Stevenson."
Eric lifted his head slowly, before lowering it again. A thoughtful, mechanical nod. Kyle had already returned to his book.
"Are you enjoying it?"
Kyle looked up again, and an easy smile lit up his face. He nodded and shifted closer to him, trying to make himself comfortable.
"Yes, I am," he replied. "I finished it yesterday, and now I'm reading it again."
"Why would you do that?"
Kyle shrugged, glancing at the cover again.
"Boredom, I suppose."
Eric noticed his body stiffen as soon as the words came out of his mouth, momentary comfort had made Kyle forget himself. The dull, rigid tension was a reprimand for such carelessness, punishing both of them, it seemed. Eric refused to let it continue.
"You enjoy reading, I take it?"
Kyle was slow to respond, but he grinned when he realised there was nothing to be afraid of.
"I love it. It's my favourite pastime." His smile wavered, and he glanced around the room, fiddling with the pages of the book. "Do you like to read?... can you read?"
Eric remembered gazing out of the window while he barely listened to his tutor on long, sunny afternoons; he remembered being allowed into the enormous library to select a book of his own (usually one brimming with adventure, starring a boyish hero he'd love to befriend); and he hazily recalled his mother's words floating into his sleepy ears as she read to him at bedtime.
"Yes, I can read," he replied. "But it's been a long time since I've picked up a book."
Kyle nodded to himself, closing the book and staring at it with a furrowed brow.
"You can read this one if you want?" he offered, holding the book out.
Eric stared at what was being offered to him, wondering what it meant. He glanced at Kyle, searching his face and saw nothing but warmth.
"Really?" he asked, his voice was quiet. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I am," Kyle chuckled, the first time he had ever laughed in front of Eric. "It's a brilliant novel. It would be nice to discuss it with someone."
Eric nodded. "All right… thank you."
Eric swore Kyle's eyes were glinting when he took the book off him. Like most objects it felt weightless, thin, and fragile in his grasp. Objects as small as this could easily break in his large, sharp paws that he still had difficulty manoeuvring. This book clearly meant a lot to Kyle, and to damage it would break this tentative comradery they appeared to be embarking on. Still, he attempted to open the book, catching hold of a few pages instead of a single one. He let the pages go, and they fluttered back into place. With a single claw, Eric tried to turn a page, but the paper was so thin, he couldn't risk it. Grumbling, he handed the book back to Kyle.
"Would you… would you mind reading it to me?"
Kyle blinked, before a smile lit up his face and he shook his head. He retrieved the book from Eric, before settling into the settee and turning to the first page. He began to read, and for the first time since Kyle arrived here - and maybe even before that - Eric felt himself relax. Perhaps they had needed to hear somebody else's story, before they got to know each other's?
