'

There was a part of Rey that very much wished to ask Poe and Dopheld why Lord Ren had been assisting them with the stable roof, but she couldn't begin to decide how she would phrase such a question. Simply asking outright would put them on the spot and while she knew Lord Ren was not an easy master, neither one of them had ever said anything remotely rude about him.

The issue was awkwardly skirted around, but she could tell that they were both relieved she didn't bring the subject up. Consequently, she did not ask either of them about Lord Ren playing the piano, nor mention that she had noticed his acute sense of smell.

Those questions would likely also make it sound as if she were, for want of a better word, spying on him, she had already accidentally eavesdropped on two conversations recently, she didn't want this to become a complex.

The man was a mystery and so he would stay; these were things that she didn't need to know to carry out her tasks, she just needed to curb her curiosity and be sensible.

'

On the morning of the day she planned to finally begin cleaning the parlour, Mr Hux informed them over breakfast that it was time for another three nights in their rooms.

It seemed extraordinary that whatever Lord Ren's malady was, it was so regular in its occurrence and so easy to predict. Of course, now she thought about it, he did seem to be more violent in his slamming of doors and was increasingly irritable in the run up to the announcements.

What sort of infirmity fluctuated by the calendar? And why must they all stay in their rooms during its most severe period?

But, she had vowed not to concern herself over the peculiarities of her employer, so with a shake of her head, she put it all from her mind and began working on the parlour.

'

The parlour was the grandest and most cluttered of Varykino's rooms. Ordinarily, parlours were only made use of on Sundays, to entertain guests or to celebrate special occasions.

Something told her that this had been the first room to be closed up, there was a very profound sense of abandonment to it, more so than the other neglected rooms. It looked as though the dust sheets had been thrown over without thought, the furniture was haphazard and poorly arranged to Rey's way of thinking, and as she uncovered more and more, she made a rather disturbing discovery.

All the portraits that featured Lord Ren, or the man she assumed had been his father, were turned to face the walls, or laid face down.

There were other portraits, some of Lady Solo and Lord Skywalker, that were not hidden, and ones with a beautiful dark haired lady and a tall serious gentleman that Rey assumed was her husband, there were similarities that made her think these must be Lady Solo's parents.

As she went about turning the frames to the light so she could clean them properly, she felt a little as if she were intruding, like she was prying into something incredibly private, and was glad she had had the forethought to wedge the door shut.

It was like some of Lord Ren's history was revealed to her, there were portraits of when he was a young child, with long floppy hair and a beaming smile, arms wrapped tightly around a large hound. As he got older, his expression became more serious, but she fancied his mouth appeared more disposed to smiling than it was now. She couldn't help being amused by his big ears and how ungainly he looked as he grew into a man.

Then, in the one that she thought was the latest, a small photograph, his expression was utterly wretched, after that, there were no more, it was like history had stopped, and so had the life in Varykino.

What could have happened to cause the rift in his family and his seclusion? With the wealth at his and his relatives disposal, he must have seen all the best physicians, have had the best possible care.

What had befallen the boy that led to the man he was now?

More importantly, why could she not seem to separate herself from her mental acquisitiveness? She had remained cheerfully ignorant of Mr Plutt's business, so why was she unable to do so here? It was truly maddening.

'

With a sigh, she resorted to reciting psalms in her head in an effort to keep her mind on task.

The large room was striking, it's walls decorated with patterned wallpaper in gold and deep orange, that shimmered in the light once she had pulled back the drapes from the windows. (Fortunately, this time she had remembered to wrap a cloth around her mouth and nose, and so avoided her usual coughing fit.)

Even with the natural light, there was still a feeling of darkness in this room, a heavy atmosphere, as if echoes of its last days remained, had seeped into the walls and carpet like an invisible stain.

It made it uncomfortable to be in there, and try as she might, the psalms in her head did little to help her ignore it.

Behind one chair, Rey found a smashed vase, on one of the red velvet camel-back sofas, a golden cushion was ripped, as if by claws. There were strange scratches on the walls, a mantel clock with a cracked and chipped face and most alarming of all, dark spatters of some kind of liquid, long since dried, sprayed over the elegant honey coloured brocade chaise lounge that sat by one of the tall windows.

It was blood, even though she scolded herself over letting her imagination run away with itself, deep down, she just knew it was blood.

There was a Penny Dreadful series that she had read some of, called the The Boy Detective. As the title suggested, it was about a boy, a runaway, who worked with a police detective and solved crimes; the parlour made her think of a crime scene, a puzzle to be pierced together, but she didn't know if she really wanted the answers it would reveal once complete.

With a shake of her head, she pushed those thoughts down and started to tackle the job at hand.

First, she gathered the broken and damaged things and collected them on a mahogany side table, to be gone over more closely later so she could see what was salvageable and what was not.

All the silk lampshades were horribly dirty and would need a thorough clean with water and ivory soap, then preferably set outside in the sun to dry, so she collected those together too.

The chandelier was a huge confection of crystal and gold and would require a lot of work to clean up, though at least this one had a way to lower it, meaning she wouldn't have to rely on anyone else to get at it.

There were numerous ornaments dotted about the room on side tables, sideboards and occasional tables. Some of her favourites were a silver statue of a bird in flight, with 'Corellia' engraved on the front of its base, a delicately carved jade frog, an ivory elephant lidded oval box of intricate design, and a golden yet realistic looking pear. There were so many treasures to discover, so many small things that needed careful yet thorough cleaning.

There were three large ornate mirrors, set in golden starburst frames, one over the marble mantelpiece and the other two faced each other on opposite sides of the room, once clean they would reflect even more light into the room. Many paintings decorating the walls, large and small, of boats and landscapes, a very fine tapestry in red, yellow and green featuring birds, flowers and leaf patterns, more opulent lamps and even an exquisite statuesque golden harp standing silent in one corner.

The weight of forgotten history and the palpable feeling of loss settled over her like a heavy mantle. While the other rooms had been exciting to explore and discover and satisfying to set to rights, the parlour was the opposite, she was trespassing, she felt it in her bones - she wasn't wanted here.

In spite of all this negative feeling, Rey laboured as hard as she could until lunch time, then closed up the windows and left.

She would do a little of it each day, rather than all at once, dilute its effect on her, so to speak, however foolish that may be.

In the afternoon, she worked on the silk lampshades, but she took them down to the laundry room, so she could escape the cheerless ambiance of what had begun to feel like a mausoleum.

'

By the time she went to bed, early though it was, she was exhausted, mentally and physically, and weary in spirit. She made some of Maz's tea and took it up with her, but barely finished it before she fell asleep.

The tea had been remarkably effective up till now, but this night, she dreamed of the wolf again.

'

It was the same animal, she was certain, huge and black, with eyes that flashed golden in the gloom. This time, he did not chase her, nor she him, they walked in the green wood, ten paces apart, mirroring each other. Every now and then her heart would jolt in her chest and her mind would scream at her to run, but she would push it down again, because she felt that she knew him, he was familiar somehow, and in her heart, a voice whispered, assuring her that he would not harm her…

'

The dream eventually faded, as dreams do and her mind turned dark as she slipped into a deeper sleep.

'

Eventually, she awoke, somehow unsurprised, to mournful howls outside the window. After peeping through the curtains, she thought she may have seen a dark shape on the lawn as it turned and swiftly moved into the shadows, but she couldn't be sure and it may have just been chimerical, simply a remnant of her dream.

Back in bed, she lay in the dark, pondering the strange coincidence or dreaming of a wolf and then hearing one whilst awake. Could it be possible she was just imagining she heard a wolf? Or whatever it was that was howling, (she thought only wolves howled, but she wasn't certain).

The idea she had may have been imagining it and how she had quizzed poor Dopheld over it, made her feel foolish and rather concerned - for a mind that just invented noises in the night, may be ill.

Certainly she wouldn't be mentioning it again, not unless she could be sure, and how could she?

In the dark, Rey scoffed at herself, this was beyond ridiculous, there were no wolves in England, and the animals lived in packs anyway, so if you heard one, presumably you would hear more.

This house was so full of mysteries and secrets, she was clearly just fabricating her own, even if she had been unconscious of it. Well, now she knew, she could put a stop it. No more wolves or flights of fancy, no more prying or asking why when she wouldn't get any answers.

It may be prudent to go and visit Maz again soon, perhaps she could make a tea that would stop the wolf dreams as well as the others.

Strangely, she felt a pang of loss at the idea, but she wilfully ignored it.

As sleep still seemed a long way off, but she was too tired to read or do any mending, she guiltily fetched the blanket that Lord Ren had put over her, and cuddled up with it. She had meant to return it, she had, and she would, but she kept forgetting. The question of why she found it so comforting, she absolutely refused to consider.

'

The next morning, she resolutely shook the beautiful blanket out, it was perfectly clean still, so she folded it neatly and took it down with her, slipping into the library and leaving it on a chair, before going below stairs for breakfast.

It still struck her as strange, how the staff here ate their morning meal before beginning their duties. At Mr Plutt's and the work house, she had been expected to get a great deal done before breaking her fast. It was a nice, rather leisurely routine, another good thing about living and working at Varykino.

"Where does the name Varykino originate?" Rey asked into the sleepy silence of the breakfast table.

Poe looked blankly at Dopheld, who frowned in thought, "I believe it was named by Lady Amidala Naberrie, the wife of Lord Johnathan Naberrie, who built the house in 1745. I seem to remember Lady Amidala was of Italian extraction and named the house after a small island her family owned in the Tyrrhenian Sea."

"Oh," Rey replied softly.

It made her wonder what the island looked like and how much Lady Amidala must have missed it.

"They were the parents of Lady Padmé," he lowered his voice slightly, half whispering, "Lady Solo's mother and the master's grandmother."

How strange it seemed, to know your family history so well you could name the date they built a house, even though it was over a hundred years ago. It wasn't often Rey thought of her own parents, but she did so now, wondering if they still lived, and if they regretted parting with her, whatever the reason may have been. Sometimes she thought that it would be easier to bear, if she knew the cause of their abandonment, though it very likely would depend on the cause, if it was simply that they had not liked her, it would have hurt all the more. In her darker moments, particularly as a child in the workhouse, she felt certain that she had disappointed them, that she hadn't been good enough, or fair enough or they simply hadn't wanted a daughter.

'

The day had started rather chilly and grey, so before entering the parlour, she went back to the library to light a fire, Lord Ren did often look ill during these periods and him getting a chill on top of that would be most unfortunate.

'

Midmorning, as she was scrubbing the large, elegantly carved marble fireplace, the slamming of the parlour door made her jump so hard she yelped.

Lord Ren stood a few paces inside the room, furious gaze fixed on her. "Who gave you permission to be in here?" By his accusatory tone, it was evident he thought no one had.

Rey swallowed as she stood up to face him, already out of sorts herself from being in the oppressive milieu for several hours.

"You did, Lord Ren, the first full day I worked here."

There was a growl, and he stalked towards her, eyes intent, "I absolutely did not!"

Spine stiffening, she defiantly glared right back at him, "You did, you told me I must not enter the landing where the family rooms are, ever. I have not."

It was indisputable, yet she probably shouldn't speak to him so disrespectfully, sometimes he brought out a rebellious streak in her, that she usually suppressed.

His nostrils flared, his eyes almost black in his pale face, dark circles beneath them, and Rey remembered he was ill and felt a little ashamed... a very little.

Lowering her eyes, she decided to try and distract him from exerting himself further, "I put some broken items on the sideboard," she gestured, "Would you like to peruse them and tell me if anything there is important? I am not certain all of them can be mended."

He glanced over to where she was pointing and then quickly away, his infuriated mien was swallowed up by something she would almost have called haunted or vulnerable, he seemed to sag or shrink without actually doing so.

"Do whatever you wish, I care not," he told her lowly, then whirled around and swiftly exited the room. He must have been really quite distressed as he did not slam the door behind him.

Rey's shame increased, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that at least the library was warm and inviting.