Chapter Four

The house was everything Violet expected. Off in the outskirts of some city, it sat just as crooked and dismal as the first house of his she had encountered. There was an unpainted picket fence which was riddled with rot. As they walked up the busted stone path to the front door, overgrown grass scratched at her ankles. The only light, much like the rest stop, came from a flickering bulb swaying above the door. From that dim source of light, she could see the paint was flaking off the house. Broken bottles in the yard glimmered.

"My girlfriend is terribly jealous," he said as they reached the porch, his long fingers fiddling with his key ring. "When she returns, you'll act as a maid named Veronica."

Violet scrunched up her nose for two reasons. One, she couldn't imagine how on earth Count Olaf managed to get a girlfriend. Two, she knew the inside of the home had to be just as bad as the outside. It would be so overwhelming that she wouldn't know where to start.

"Lucky for you," he continued as they stepped up to the door, pausing to slide a rusted key into the lock, "I already have a butler in my hire. You'll be sharing quarters with him."

Unease swept through Violet's stomach and she gave him a wide-eyed look. "You can't expect me to share a room with a butler I don't even know," she argued. "It's indecent."

Count Olaf gave the door a hard nudge with his hip and it swung open, revealing nothing but darkness. "I suppose you'll be taking turns sleeping on the bed if you're so uncomfortable," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, motioning for her to step inside first.

Violet eyed the darkness, childishly thinking there would be a monster inside to grab her. Then she remembered the monster already had her. Holding her breath, she stepped into the darkness. There was a dull thud and the light from the porch went out, Olaf having shut the door after following her inside. There was the distinct noise of a lock tumbling and then something landed on her shoulder and she gave a small jump, though realized he laid his hand there. A moment later, there was light. Violet turned to see his other arm outstretched above him, having just tugged a pull string for the hallway light.

The inside of the house was even worse than she imagined – somehow even worse than his first house. Layer upon layer of differing wallpapers were curling toward the floor. The staircase in front of her was missing a bannister. The windows may or may not have had glass – it was impossible to tell as they were completely boarded up.

"This way," he droned, keeping his hand on her shoulder and steering her through the living room. Well, it certainly had been lived in, that was for sure. A man with whom Violet had never met was snoring loudly from a moth-eaten couch. There were blankets and pillows strewn about the floor, mixed with broken records, tattered books, and those oh-so-familiar wine bottles.

"That's Viktor," Count Olaf told her, thumbing over his shoulder toward the sleeping man. "One of my troupe. I don't believe you've met."

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure," Violet said, caring very little to disguise the distaste in her tone. The man was quite large, with thick glasses and greasy hair which clung from his crown to the nape of his neck. "He seems charming," she added, after he let out a horrendous snore.

Count Olaf, unused to her rather dry humor, had a difficult time disguising his grin. Violet didn't seem to notice or care. Her eyes were trained on the darkness in front of them. Again, he reached for a light above them and she saw it was a dining room.

Well, it had been a dining room. It seemed it was now being used as…actually, she wasn't sure what. There were bits of cloth and sewing supplies strewn across the rickety table which was pushed up to one wall. In one corner sat a piano and in the middle of the room lay several single mattresses all pushed together among spilled wine cups. There was a large window which overlooked the room and would have been quite lovely if it wasn't covered with thick sheets of wood. It was complete with a cushioned window seat, which Violet felt was the most welcoming sight in the room.

"The rumpus room," Olaf explained as they passed through. Rumpus, indeed. Violet imagined it had to be used for the practice of his theatre troupe, though it was in such disorder that she wondered if anyone actually enjoyed spending time in there.

Before he even turned on the next light, she knew they were near the kitchen – the smell hit her. The same ghastly scent of his kitchen before, of unwashed dishes, of rotting food, of animal droppings. When he flicked on the light, it was as if she'd been transported to that terrible day years before when she first entered Count Olaf's guardianship. The plates were stacked high, ready to topple over. The taps on the sink looked to be rusted solid. There were scurrying noises from the cupboards.

"I thought you had a butler," she asked, raising the sleeve of her dress and pressing it against her nose. The smell of smoke clung to her and it made her head spin, but it was far better than the foul scent of Count Olaf's kitchen.

"He's only been recently acquired," Olaf said, eyes shining like he was telling a joke, though she wasn't sure what it might be. Then he pointed with one slim finger toward a door off the kitchen. "That's the servant's quarters," he said.

Violet's eyes darted, for just the slightest moment, to the back door, but it wasn't quick enough to go undetected to her ex-guardian. Count Olaf held up the key ring, which held several keys, and leaned close to her with a menacing smirk. "That's the thing about old houses. Some need a key to get in and out."

This was true, although unfortunate. The Baudelaire mansion had been one such home. Violet remembered being stuck inside one day, wanting to go to Briny Beach, but she and her siblings were locked inside while they awaited their parents return from the grocery. It seemed lifetimes ago, but she still clearly remembered not being able to wait getting older and having her own key, to go as she pleased.

"I'll have my costume seamstress come over in the morning to measure you. Unless you'd rather wear those rags every day," he said suddenly, as if he hadn't just enforced the fact that she was very much his captive.

"I, uhm. Yes, thank you," she said, unsure what to say. On one hand, she would be glad to be rid of the singed dress, but on the other she imagined he would only invest in the cheapest materials and it would be like Mrs. Poe's clothing all over again. Just the thought made Violet itch.

"Good," he said. "We'll have to find you something maid-ish after we run errands tomorrow. Ursa will be back tomorrow night and I'll never hear the end of it if you aren't hired help."

Now, it might just have been because she was Count Olaf's girlfriend, but Violet couldn't help but think Ursa was a dreadful name that probably belonged to a dreadful person. The thought of anyone getting jealous of Violet spending time in Count Olaf's company seemed preposterous. It wasn't as if it were by choice or even slightly enjoyable.

"Alright," she said, not voicing her thoughts. Violet's eyes swept to the door of the servant's quarters, as he'd put it. An anxious tremor ran through her, wondering what this butler was like and whether or not he was there by choice. If so, that was unfortunate for her. If not, they may be able to plot an escape. Violet hoped the room had a window large enough to fit through, but knew it would all depend on whether this butler was loyal to Count Olaf or not.

Inside the room, Violet was met with two things which she didn't expect. There had been a moment after Count Olaf pushed her into the room, the sound of a lock sliding behind her, that she was standing in that suffocating darkness which loomed around the house. Then, from the corner of the room, there was a sudden beam of light.

The flashlight was being held by her first unexpected twist. The butler was not a butler at all, but a small boy no older than seven. Once her eyes adjusted and she realized this, she watched the boy put a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay silent. Violet nodded and looked around, finding her second unexpected mishap. There was no way they would fit through the window because there wasn't a window at all. The room was tiny, a twin mattress on the floor taking up the majority of the space. Lining the walls were dusty shelves which hung from ceiling to floor. Their bedroom was a pantry.

Above, the floorboards creaked with each of Count Olaf's footsteps. After a moment the floor gave a load moan and there was the sound of bedsprings creaking.

"You have to be quiet," whispered the little boy. "He's right above us."

With a dreadful feeling, Violet looked up at the ceiling. There was a small hole in the corner. Motioning for the flashlight, the little boy handed it over and she stood as close as she could get to under the hole, which was hard with the way the shelves were made. Shining the flashlight up, she could see the edge of a metallic candy wrapper and the bottom of Count Olaf's bed.

Violet handed the boy back the flashlight and wondered if Count Olaf knew the hole was there. A shudder ran down her spine, imagining him crawling beneath his bed and spying on them as they slept.

"I'm Alec," he whispered, breaking her from the horrible thought. "I'm the butler."

Violet nodded and stuck out her hand, which he took and she noticed what a firm grip he had for a young boy. "I'm Violet," she said in a hushed tone. "I'm the maid. Though, I think you're supposed to call me Veronica."

Alec nodded. "I heard," he said, nudging his head toward the door. "If Ursa knew you were Violet Baudelaire, she would be really mad."

Violet wasn't sure how to reply or how this little boy even knew who she was. After a moment of silence, she finally asked, "Why would she be mad?"

The little boy shrugged and hopped over onto the mattress with a bounce. "I dunno. She screams a lot because she says he pays more attention to you than her."

A sinister feeling creeped up her spine and Violet shook away the chill bumps that crossed her arms. "Is that so?" she asked, unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah," Alec said, sitting the flashlight on the shelf so it illuminated their small room. "But, I'm glad you're here. It'll be like having a sister! You can sleep at one end of the bed and I'll sleep on the other. And at night we can make fun of Viktor's greasy hair."

Violet, though, was not happy she was there. There is a saying that goes "misery loves company" and Violet could see, despite his giddiness at having her there, that Alec had misery in his eyes. So even though she would rather be anywhere else in the world, Violet crawled onto the small mattress next to him and said with a smile, "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Alec grinned a toothy smile and curled up next to her. It was then that Violet realized they were given no blankets or pillows. Or sheets, for that matter. Wondering who else had slept on that mattress with no sheets had her suppressing a shudder.

"So, Alec," she whispered, turning onto her side to face the boy, "How did you end up the butler?"

Violet suspected this was one of Olaf's nefarious schemes and the boy didn't disappoint her.

"He kidnapped me," the boy said, the glee in his voice confusing Violet beyond all else.

"You –," she started, trying to find the right words, "- seem okay with that."

Alec nodded and gave a giddy giggle, then the two looked up at the ceiling in horror as the bed springs creaked again. Once they were sure they hadn't woken the monster, he whispered, "I always wanted to be kidnapped. It's like an adventure!"

Violet wondered what sort of home life the boy had prior to warrant such desires. But, not wanting to dash his charming little smile, she said, "That's one way of looking at it. Has it been an adventure for you?"

Alec grinned from ear to ear, looking up at her with such excitement that it nearly took her breath away. "One time Count Olaf took me to see a house that burned down. And last week we got to go to this really old apartment building and pretend to work for the phone company so he could see how the power and phone lines worked in there!"

At this her stomach turned with a sneaking suspicion that both of those things involved her. Somehow she managed to keep the grimace off her face. "So, you like it here?" she asked, unable, however, to keep the dismay from her voice.

Alec's face suddenly turned sullen and she got a glimpse of the misery she saw before. "Count Olaf hates me. And his friends are all terrible. Mostly I just have to do dumb chores all day," he said in a glum tone.

Violet nodded, sympathetic. This was the story she knew well. During her first time with Count Olaf, she and her siblings had been forced to do terrible chores, one right after the other. They had to replace window panes, weed the jungle of a garden, and once spent an entire day trying to clean the grime off a single plate. "I lived with Count Olaf before," she said quietly, leaning in as if telling him a huge secret. "With my brother Klaus and my sister Sunny. He would leave us huge lists with terrible chores and expect us to be done by the time he got home. There were so many things that it was impossible to finish and so he'd send us to bed with no dinner."

The little boy nodded solemnly. "That's the same as me. Why did you move away?"

A memory flashed through her mind, that terrible moth-eaten dress, Justice Strauss in her wig, Sunny hanging from that cage. "He tried to make me marry him," she said. "I was only fourteen and he just wanted our fortune. Luckily, I thought to sign the certificate with my left hand, which meant it wasn't legal because I'm right-handed. So, his plan was exposed and they took us away from him."

That wasn't the entire truth, however. Count Olaf's plan did get exposed and he lost guardianship, but the next two years of their life were spent running from his shadows. Violet's teen years were filled with sorrow and murder.

Alec yawned and laid his head in the crook of her arm, apparently having taken a liking to her. Violet smiled, never having met a more trusting child. "He's not all bad," he said, sleep beginning to cloud up his voice. Violet looked down and saw his eyes had slid shut. "Sometimes when he drinks a lot of wine, he lets me out and tries to teach me piano."

Violet chuckled, then stilled when Alec reached across her and grabbed the lobe of her ear. At first she hadn't known what he was doing, but then a sear of pain ripped through her chest when he started rubbing it between his fingers. Little Beatrice had done the same thing when she was sleepy and neither Violet nor Quigley had ever seen a child do that before. She wasn't sure what it was about holding an earlobe, but it seemed to comfort Beatrice and so she let Alec continue doing it.

"Are you any good at piano?" she whispered after a moment, not sure if he was even still awake as his fingers had stilled.

Alec gave a long drag of breath, as if he'd just been pulled from the edge of sleep by her words. "No," he said and she could hear a sleepy grin in his voice, "But, neither is Count Olaf."

Violet smiled and closed her eyes, deciding to let him sleep. Since the fire – well, the fire which took Quigley and Beatrice from her – Violet didn't sleep well and often went days without even a nap. However, earlier was the first fire she'd ever actually been trapped in and that, in addition to Count Olaf reappearing in her life, had zapped what energy she had. Within moments she was near sleep, only vaguely aware of little Alec curling deeper into her side and nuzzling his head against her.

"You should have married Count Olaf," she remembered him saying. "Then mean Ursa wouldn't be around and he would probably be a lot happier."

Violet recalled wondering if he meant Count Olaf would be happier with Ursa gone or herself around, but was too near sleep to answer.