It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. You may recognize the line from one of the most iconic of love stories, Pride and Prejudice. The opening line was the precipice to many a young woman falling for the dashing but woefully prideful, Mr. Darcy. It began the fairy-tale hopes that would fail with a man who couldn't live up to the standard. This is no similar story. No happy endings exist in my world. That snide remark that shows that even the rich, those who have everything, can still be in want…need of something.
The soft tinkling of clapper to bell rang as I tugged the worn rope. Chime jingled here as I knew it sounded two stories below in the kitchen, despite the crack of thunder which shook the house at the same moment. Constant ticking became the sole sound in the room. The second hand of the clock got a revolution and a half, one page turned, the door creaked open. A cringe from the butler was felt without looking up. I knew words were unnecessary. That come time for my retirement for the evening, the old man would be up here, lubricating the hinges.
"You rang, Sire?" The grayed head bowed low, inquiring when a command wasn't given immediately.
The man waited in silence a moment as I finished the page, tucking the crinkled marker between the crisp pages and lifted my gaze, "I'm going to need a new girl." My tone clipped, simple. A command.
"If I may say, my lord…" the man started but cut off with the silencing wave of my hand. The ruby of the heavy signet on my right hand catching the light as a wave of lightning cast a glow through the dimly lit room.
I stood up, striding across the room to peer from the window to the grounds below. My eyes scanned the area, able to survey every little detail despite the dark and cover of pouring rain, adjusted to the darkness. The storm had come from nowhere.
The patterning of heavy drops splattering against the pane did little to dim my response, "Just get me another girl." The words barked. I was in no mood to debate with the old man. He knew as well as I how the rumors kept them away. Girls curious enough, brave enough to come never stayed long. No one stayed long.
I felt, rather than saw, Johnson's quick nod as he spoke solemnly, "Yes, Sire." I said nothing as the door closed, not without the telling shriek of the hinges.
Years ago I was happy, a time long gone. My parents were in fishing. The corporate side. It started as a few boats, a couple of small crews, and grew into a vast empire. We lived like royalty. Lavish parties, the mansion constantly filled with music and laughter. They were these The Great Gatsby type parties; the invitation extended to everyone and everyone made sure they were there. Many a business deal created at those parties. Mother would caution Father to relax and have fun, leaving the business for tomorrow but he couldn't quite do it. Within the first hour or so he'd have some poor shmuck lead up to his office where he talked the man into buying, selling or trading whatever it was that my father wanted. He was good, he was excellent.
The last time visitors came was at their funeral. After that, no music, no laughter. Any child of fourteen, I imagine, would have a hard time taking that. Another flash of lightning creates a reflection in the glass. The stark, white scar that ran the length of my face on the right-hand side. A final reminder I have of that night. It was a storm, much like this one. Visibility was gathering of water that my father failed to see. I can recall my mother calling my father's name in pure terror. Woke up two days later in the hospital. I've come to hate the rain.
The house shut up, rooms closed off. "No Trespassing" signs posted all over the grounds. The sole person allowed in was my tutor. I never neglected my studies. Though the company all but ran itself, I knew that it was mine. It was my parent's legacy.
Solitude like that does things to a person. I believe I lost my own mind to the darkness. Years passed, as time does. As I grew older, I grew cynical. Slowly, the staff dwindled. Either by death or need of life. The life of the place died along with my parents.
I ran a hand through my hair. Dust-colored strands parting in waves with the intrusion of the digits. A long, low sigh spilled from my lips as I turned from the window and moved to pick up my novel again. The soft glow of the lamp casting light over my favorite chair. I was settling into the seat when the shrill creak sounded the return of my butler. My lips parted to speak. Not entirely sure what my intent was, no doubt it would not be a welcoming phrase. Any words were, however, cut off with a swift, "We have a situation, Sire."
I watched in complete confoundment as the elderly servant rushed off, leaving the door wide open. He had looked positively frazzled. Unusual for the man. I set the book aside again, rising to my feet to follow after him.
"She's shaking something awful, my lord," Johnson spoke as I rounded the head of the stairs and began my descent to the main floor.
My eyes fell upon the drenched mass of a human being. Johnston left her on the ornate, decorative sofa, in the foyer. It's proximity to the door was its appeal. My hand grasped the hand-carved head of the banister while reaching the ground floor, "What is this?" My words short, gauging of the situation.
"I apologize, Sire…I was unable to move her further. She collapsed in the yard." I noticed that he was breathless. No doubt the feat would be a difficult one for him. Johnson had been with the family for over 50 years. Beyond my living of course. As cruel as I can be to the man, I don't know if I would have made it without him.
I could feel my jaw tensing up, locking in place. The sofa was not of any consequence. However, I was not a good samaritan and I didn't like unexpected circumstances that forced my hand. However, am I one to send another human being to their death either. "Get some towels and something dry for her to put on and put them in the guest room."
The man hesitated a moment, looking much like a deer caught in oncoming headlights. I lifted one brow, waiting for compliance with my request. Johnson had a bit of a stutter to his words, "Wh-ich room, m-my lord?"
I presented an annoyed roll of my eyes, "I suppose at this point in time they are all vacant are they not?" My words lacked impatience. It was rather late, I had hoped to finish the chapter I was on and retire peacefully to bed.
He knew as well as I that the guest rooms remained unoccupied for quite some time. After a moment of gawking, he nodded and rushed off to do my bidding.
My gaze dropped to the woman, haphazardly draped on the couch, her skin paled, hair plastered to her face. It was difficult to get a good look at her from this angle. The girl couldn't have been beyond early twenties at least. So young and yet away from town. Wonder what had brought her up this way and in such a storm crossed my mind. With a resigned sigh, I leaned down. Sliding one arm beneath the bend of her knees, the other cradling her back. I lifted her up, ignoring the dampening fabric of my shirt as it plastered to my chest. Even soaking wet she didn't weigh much at all. I'd wonder if she ate enough. Perhaps a good night's rest and a large breakfast in the morning will be all she needs and the woman can be on her way first thing.
With that decided, I made my way up the steps, taking each with calculation. She may be near skin and bones, but even then a full-grown person is a bit of a load to carry. The soft, muted sound of droplets hit the floor as with each move upward jostled her form, ringing a bit of the gathered water from her clothing.
Once I made it to the landing of the second floor, I spotted the light on down the hall, the chosen room, wide open as a beacon. I stepped inside, lowering her to the bed. A small grunt sounded from my charge as she sunk into the surface.
The small lamp on the bedside table was a muted illumination to the room. Despite its years of disuse, it was dust free. The room was immaculate. A big, four-poster bed, seemed to swallow the small body lain upon it. Dark oak casting shadows across the room, over her face.
"You should get out of those wet clothes and dry yourself," the suggestion went as far as my lips. Her head turned to one side, a heavy sigh spilling from full lips. It appeared she had settled into bed and would budge for some time. I wouldn't mind enjoying that feeling myself.
I waited a moment, then I cleared my throat and tried again, "You will become ill." She didn't respond. Not even a sigh this time. A low growl sounded deep within my throat as my annoyance mounted with the entire situation. After a brief deliberation, I decided to change her myself.
Upon the removal of her clothing, nothing seemed to rouse her. I had thought perhaps the jerking of wet clothes from her skin would be enough to pull her from whatever stupor she succumbed to, however, once completely bare; still no sign of consciousness.
The wondering of my gaze was perhaps a bit excessive however, the woman did pass out cold on my doorstep. The view of her naked form further settled in my mind that she was malnourished. Her breasts were high and tight but as small and sickly looking as the rest of her. As my eyes traveled over her abdomen, I could literally count her ribs. I would be instructing Johnson to fix a larger breakfast than the usual.
I lifted the towel that Johnson laid out and began to brush it along her skin. Drying any excess from the removal of her clothes. Satisfied, I lifted the large shirt, I recognized it as an old one of mine, set aside to for throwing out given the stain on it. It was dry and it was clean so I doubted it would be of little consequence to the wearer. Tugging the cloth over her head. As the ragdoll of a woman slept, the fabric fell high on her thighs, covering her frail form. The long sleeved v-neck hung on her frame, pooling at her sides. I tugged the duvet over her, ensuring that she had warmth to ward away any chills.
I had turned to leave but as an afterthought stopped and leaned down, putting my ear over her nose and mouth. Poised there, waiting. A small release of breath tickled my ear, the warmth coating my skin. I remained a moment more until the second rush of air hit my face. The breath seemed normal to me. Satisfied that I would not have a corpse in my home come day break, I closed the door and headed to find Johnson.