Chapter 2
An Introduction
When Emily arrived at the Van Dorts' home, she was overwhelmed by the amount of fish that were incorporated into the decorating. The typical stone lions that were meant to greet the guests as they walked up the path to the door, were replaced with a pair of large fish. Inside the house, some of the various paintings that adorned the walls contained fish. The fireplace was also framed with carvings of fish jumping and splashing.
Though, Emily wasn't fond of the decor, she was grateful the house itself did not smell of fish.
Her observations were cut short by a high-pitched bark and the scampering of feet. She turned just in time to see a elderly canine with floppy ears race towards her, its tongue lolling behind him.
Emily could not help the laugh that escaped her lips as she bent to pet the dog. "Hello," she cooed as she scratched at the black and white fur behind his ear. Again, the dog barked and wagged his tail happily as he jumped up to lick Emily's face. For an old dog, he was certainly a spry creature.
"Scraps, enough of that!" cried Nell Van Dort. "Away with you."
The dog--Scraps, tucked his tail between his legs and trudged off in the opposite direction.
"Damned beast," Mrs. Van Dort spoke under breath before facing Emily and plastering a somewhat forced smile onto her face. "Come with me, my dear, and I'll show you to your room."
Emily followed the wobbling frame of Mrs. Van Dort up a pair of stairs. Atop them was a hallway with two doors on either side of it. Mrs. Van Dort opened the one to the left and showed Emily inside.
It was a very plain room. The wallpaper was the color of cream and the wood floors had a thin coating of dust. The only furniture in the room was a rickety looking bed, a shabby bedside table, and an empty armoire. It had clearly been a few years since this room had been in use.
"Now then," began Mrs. Van Dort, "this is where you'll stay. William and I sleep on the first floor, so should you need anything in the middle of the night, my son Victor is just across the hall."
Mrs. Van Dort then took note of Emily's appearance. She was still wearing her mother's wedding gown, except now it was ash ridden and the hem was torn. "I will draw you a bath," she told the pitiful girl in front of her, "and will have your dress cleaned and mended for you."
Emily looked down at her dirt caked shoes, her embarrassment growing by the second. "I haven't anything else to wear," she revealed in a voice just above a whisper. All her belongings had been burned in the fire. All that she had left was the charred photograph of her parents, which she held tightly to her chest, and the raggedy wedding gown she now wore.
"Yes," began Mrs. Van Dort, "well, lucky for us, the seamstress your father hired had informed me that she is almost done with that large order of dresses you put in a few months back. They should be done by the end of the week. She also said she would throw in a few corsets and undergarments, free of charge." A genuine smile then graced the features of Mrs. Van Dort. "In the meantime, our neighbors the Everglots have generously provided us with these hand-me-downs for you to use," she said as she gestured to the pile of clothing that rested upon the bed.
Emily frowned at these words. The Everglots were not people she would describe as generous. Anyone who knew them knew that they were greedy, selfish people with pompous attitudes. Her father disliked them for a number of reasons. The biggest one being their lack of empathy. After all, what use was wealth if it wasn't used to help others?
A more likely story about how these garments landed in the possession of the Van Dorts, was that Maudeline Everglot gave them to Nell Van Dort in attempt to get rid of the woman. Mrs. Van Dort clearly thought very highly of the Everglots, so it would not surprise Emily if she had gone pestering them for help.
"Well, go ahead and pick something out and I'll go draw you your bath," Mrs. Van Dort said before exiting the room.
Emily went to the bed to examine the dresses that lay before her. They were all rather ugly, being several decades out of fashion, and the colors where bland and lifeless.
Sighing, she chose a gown of faded burgundy and heaved it over her shoulder. She placed the photograph of her parents on the bedside table before exiting the room. When she had ventured to the bottom of the stairs, she found Mrs. Van Dort waiting for her.
"Wonderful," Mrs. Van Dort said upon Emily's arrival. "The washroom is just in there," she gestured toward a door around the corner. "Go ahead and get cleaned up. When you're ready to get dressed, just knock on the door, and our maid Mildred will be along to help you." With that, Mrs. Van Dort waddled off, leaving Emily at the foot of the stairs.
Emily entered the washroom and made work of stripping herself of her dress before slipping into the claw-footed bathtub. She sighed in content as the warm water lapped at her skin and soothed her sore muscles.
For a moment, all she did was sit there, allowing herself to calm down. Within the span of 12 hours she was left orphaned without a fortune, abandoned by a fiancé who never really loved her, and was now living amongst strangers. Anyone would be emotionally drained by such a fate.
She did not cry. She was out of tears to shed. The last of them were spent over the half-burned body of her father.
When the water began to grow cold, Emily took up the bar of lavender soap that rested on the tub's edge, and began working it into her hair. Then, she scrubbed at her skin until it was raw, as if it was possible to wash the very heartache from her soul. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.
Once she was clean, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. She pulled the stopper and watched as the water--several shades darker than when she had first gotten in--vanished down the drain. She then did her best to dry herself off before knocking at the door.
A severe looking woman with frizzy, red hair and eyes the color of ink, came trudging through the door. She gave Emily a grimace of a smile, as if it were a foreign action to her.
"'Ello, miss," she said in a thick Essex accent. "My name's Mildred. I'm the Van Dorts' maid. The missus wanted me to 'elp ya get dressed."
Emily only nodded and allowed Mildred to assist her.
When Mildred finished dressing her, she left Emily to look at herself in the mirror of the washroom. The dress was ill-fitting. The bust of it was stretched to the point that the material hung several inches past Emily's own breasts and was also a tad bit too tight around her hips. Because Maudeline Everglot wore gowns with skirts that flared about her feet for several inches and was a bit taller than Emily, the hem of the dress dragged on the floor in a way that caused Emily to have to hold the skirts to her chest to prevent herself from tripping. The coloring of the dress was also unflattering as it dulled the blue of her eyes and made her raven hair appear to be an unflattering brown. As much as she disliked the dress, she had to admit that it was better than wearing her mother's wedding dress for the rest of eternity.
Emily exited the washroom and wandered into the parlor. In the middle of the room stood a beautiful grand piano. This brought Emily a sense of comfort and familiarity.
At an early age she was given piano lessons by the best teachers money could buy. Many of the other children who were forced to learn music resented the instrument their parents chose for them and would complain about it every chance they got, but not Emily. In fact, she considered music to be her first love, and the piano was her way of expressing that love.
She took a seat upon the bench and gave the ivory keys a gentle stroke before she let her fingers dance across them. She would not consider herself to be a great artist, but that did not mean she hadn't tried her hand at composing. It was one of these compositions that she now played. Yesterday, it was an unfinished piece as she hadn't a clue how to end it. Due to today's events, she new just what sort of finale it deserved. So, she put her soul into the sorrowful haunt of the melody. It definitely had a sad tone, but there was something beautiful about it, too.
When she had finished, she looked up from the keys and nearly fell off the bench at the sight of a young man standing adjacent to the piano, an awe-struck look on his face. "God in heaven!" she cried, her hand flying to her heart.
A sheepish look crept across the stranger's face. "Forgive me, miss," he spoke in a timid voice. "I did not mean to startle you."
Emily flashed him a glare and rose from the piano bench. "Well, you should have thought of that before you went and snuck up on me," she snapped as she gathered up her skirts. "You could have at least announced yourself. Coughed or something."
The man began to fuss with his tie, twisting and tugging at it nervously. "Yes, well, I... I didn't want to interrupt you. You're... It was..." He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, clearly frustrated with himself. "Your playing is bewitching," he said finally, opening his eyes.
Emily softened at his words. It was clear he was being honest. A trait that had recently become an important one to her.
It was then that she allowed herself to really take in the man before her. He was around her age and was tall and thin. His hair was a dark brown and was swept back, except for the stray hairs that hung in his eyes, which were a few shades lighter than his hair. His face was long and angular with a set of thin lips. To Emily, he was fairly attractive.
"Do you play?" she asked, wanting to continue the conversation. His only reply was a short nod. "Would you play something for me?"
His eyes widened at her words. "I couldn't possibly," he protested. "Not after such a performance as yours."
Emily gave an airy laugh. "While I appreciate your compliments and your modesty, I simply won't take no for answer."
Reluctantly, he sat at the bench and began to play. The tune was soft and timid at first, much like him, but later progressed into a passionate melody that lightened Emily's heart ever so slightly.
When he was finished, he looked up at her shyly. A nervous hint of a smile present upon his lips.
Emily could not help but give him a whisper of a smile back. "You put my playing to shame," she praised. "You're positively magnificent!"
His smile deepened ever so slightly. "Now who is being modest?" he teased.
"You are," she shot back.
He rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't faulter.
It was then that William Van Dort entered the room. "Excellent," he began in his nasaly voice. "Now I can properly introduce you two.
"Emily, this is my son Victor. Don't take his shyness too much to heart. He's like that with everyone when they first meet him.
"Victor, this is Emily Merrimack. As your mother told you, because of some unfortunate circumstances, she's come to live with us as my ward. Be kind to her and be a friend to her. God knows she could do with a friend."
Victor gave Emily a sad smile, his eyes full of sympathy. "Of course, Father."