Bloodstone

[Firesprite]

Please check the OOC for Bloodstone and post a bio there before joining.


March 1888

Gale force winds lashed the tiny English village of Whitewick, ripping slates from the roofs and tearing limbs from trees.

On the small isle linked to the mainland the people staying at the newly opened Greystone found themselves stranded, the bridge and causeway had been washed away, the water too rough to be crossed in the small boats available. Along with the bridge, the power and telephone services had been lost.

In the raging storm, a huge old oak shuddered before the onslaught and then, caught by one mighty gust, the oak toppled, its roots tearing at the earth beneath.
Revealed between the gnarled roots there lay some human remains.

There was know way of knowing who this poor soul was, no clothing remained, and the body was merely bones. The only thing remaining was a ring on one finger. A bloodstone ring.

 

[The GrandMage]

Prof. H. Plum, Proprietor & Manager

He sat in the deep old armchair, the aging leatherbound copy of Dante's Divine Comedy in his lap as he listened to the crackling of the fire, the rain pitter-pattering across the window, thethunder booming in the distance, the crash of,....hmmm,.... what was that particularly loud crash?

The old historian slowly closed the book, already bookmarked and ready to be put up, and set in on the small table by the chair, where he had his tea. Taking his sturdy cane in hand, he set it carefully, lifting himself to his feet with a groan as he rubbed at the small of his back. Taking sturdy, easy steps with the cane as balance, he made his way to the window, staring out into the night. Nothing new was there,...but where was the old tree. He could usually see it from here.

Perhaps it was the light. Slowly, he made his way out of the study, and the calming glow of the fire as he went to the hall. He went to the front door, hearing the frightened scratching of his cat, Baxter. Upon opening the door, the small calico feline raced into the house, disappearing into the dining room to give the cook a surprise. Staring out into the strom, he noticed the old tree had indeed moved.

Muttering to himself, he closed the door right in the face of the expectant customer as he began to move away, only to be brought back by the door. He slowly opened the door, looking at the drenched person as he adjusted his glasses.

"Oh, my. Dreadful weather, isn't it? I suppose you'll be hear for a room. We've got some nice dry ones on the second floor still available. Or do you have a reservation?" He finally stepped out of the way, allowing access. "But I suppose you'll be wanting in. I'm Professor Plum, and welcome to my fine establishment."

 

[chewbacca71]

Liam Dove

"Why hello there, my name is Liam Dove." He holds out his hand to the gnarled little man in front of him. The man is barely taller than his waist and Liam is having a hard time looking at him closer since the firelight keeps reflecting off a large bald spot on the top of the Professors head. "I have come to this fine establishment to take a holiday from my studies. I am in training to be a Doctor. See, I have my bag with me in case of emergencies, plus I need the practice. My friend Sebastian Bach was supposed to meet me here, but I have just received a letter saying that he was not coming. However, he said that our room was already paid for , for the whole fortnight. May I come in out of the cold rain.?" Liam waits for an answer from the wizened old man.

 

[The GrandMage]

Prof. Plum

He blinked, and grinned as he ushered his charge in, closing the door behind him. "Of course you may come in. You do have a reservation. Mmm, yes, the Bach account. Doctor, you say? Fine profession, young man, a fine profession. Do hang your coat in the closet there, I'm sorry to say I haven't been able to find a strong young man to help with the luggage or welcoming. But do come in. Up the stairs, that fine set there, is the second floor. Turn right, the third door on the left. Two beds, private bath, decorated in blue, you know. Afterwards, the first floor is the study, library, billards hall, dining room, and,....Ummm,.....something else. Anyway, there's a bar in the Study, as well as a nice fire to warm you from both inside and out. Make yourself at home, dinner's at 9 sharp."

Resting more heavilly on his cane now that he had an audience, he began moving towards the dining room, calling the cat's name and making little sounds to try and attract it's attention. More likely than not, he'd end up wandering into the kitchen to get the poor thing,...and bother the poor cook. He grinned to himself at the thought of that.

 

[chewbacca71]

Professor Plum says " Make yourself at home, dinner's at 9 sharp. "

Liam " Thank you good sir, I think I shall enjoy my visit to this gorgeous place you have here. "

He puts his wet coat into the closet as directed and walks up the stairs. The decor in this place is unreal, very fancy and expensive, not at all what he had expected when Bach offered to pay for it all. He goes into his room and unpacks his two valises. It does not take long as he packs lightly. After this, he changes out of his wet things, piling them in the extra closet on the floor, since he is not sure what to do with them. He hops onto the nearest bed and finds that it is somewhat comfortable. He tries the one closest to the window, ahh, much better. He gets out of the bed and looks out the window to see what kind of view he would have on a clear day.

Liam can see very sculptured grounds close to the mansion, but can see the boundary of where the wild areas start. He sees a large tree has been blown over in the storm that they were still experiencing. He sees something shining under the tree, not sure what it is from this height. He makes a mental note to check it out when the storm abates. Liam decides he may as well wonder this place. He will be here for two weeks, he may as well see the ammenities that it offers. He turns the gaslight in his room down low as he walks out the door. He mounts the stairs to go to the first level.

 

[Zircon]

Belly

There was no way of knowing whether the ferry made it back to the Isle of Man safely. All I could see were huge waves of frothing green and painful salt sprays on my face. The sky was darkening to fast for my liking. I’ve often heard about the ferocity of the Channel Spring storms, but this was the first time of actually witnessing it. The harbour master was adamant about us leaving his company and warm shed. But the wind had abated a little as I made my way towards the small village of Whitewick.

Clutching Mademoiselle Lépine’s and my own suitcases, I trudged along the muddy cobblestones to the nearest carriage broker. The lack of stevedores at the dock was a source of irritation. Mademoiselle Lépine’s torn frilly umbrella was an early testament to the rough weather that we’re about to face. The inn at Whitewick was shabby, and the smell was none too pleasant, so I did not linger too long except to ask for directions.

The carriage broker loved to haggle, but I did not indulge him as the weather was getting ominous and the day was fading fast. Both Mademoiselle Lépine and myself were comfortable in the nice little cabriolet that we have rented. The most important thing was that the roof did not leak. Traipsing along the English countryside in a slow and precise trot, we made good time when we reached the wooden bridge and causeway to the small islet. From my position, I was glad that we did not spend too much time in the village. The river and shallow sea surrounding the land bridge was swelling to dangerous proportions. The spray from the wheels as we passed the land bridge was a signal to hurry along. The sedate roan was hard pressed, but Mademoiselle Lépine’s safety was of the paramount concern.

I heaved a sigh of relief when the magnificent Manor of Greystone came into view. From the road lined with boughs of elms and oaks, the Manor greeted us like a long lost friend, a willing shelter for the unfortunates caught in the coming storm.

The walls of grey stones bore the mark of age. The windows of old were clouded over, but the flickering light and warmth promised from within urged me on. And not a moment too soon, as the cabriolet pulled along side the main archway. The wind has suddenly picked up speed, so much that the drizzle was beginning to slant in direction. I will tell the groomsman to well reward the roan for its efforts. I helped Mademoiselle Lépine off the carriage. Her lips are beginning to turn blue from the cold rain. The great knocker made a tremendous sound to announce our presence at the door.

A butler greeted us, ‘Good evening and welcome to Greystone, young Master and Mistress.’

Nodding my head in greeting, ‘Good evening to you sir. Perchance would we find accommodation in this fine manor from the impending storm?’

The butler opened the door wider to allow us to step into the foyer, and replied, ‘Dear young Master and Mistress, you are very welcome to stay at Greystone Manor, for this is retreat for weary travellers. I’ll will have your baggage brought up to your rooms. The main desk in further in the foyer, you can enquire about the suites there.’

The rooms were luxurious by any standards. The four poster bed looks inviting, and so do the bathtub with steaming hot water and warmth from the coal brazier in the corner. The dinner gong at 9 sounded too soon as I was just luxuriating in the bathtub. I was glad that I was on this side of the walls, as the howling wind against the glass panes indicated that we were facing a gale. The stiff high collar chaffed at my neck. I wish I was just wearing a light cotton shirt and a sarong as I usually do back at the plantation. The grand staircase dwarfed the foyer as I strolled on down to the Dining Room.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Zoé Lépine:

J'étais arrivé peut-être il y a une demi-heure, et tout pour que je pourrais souhaiter étaient un bain chaud et un beau... merde... I had arrived perhaps half an hour ago, and all I could possibly wish for was a hot bath and a nice fire. The journey had been a nightmare, only slightly attenuated by the pleasurable company of monsieur Guthrie. The sounds of the storm echoed outside as I was soaking in my steaming bathtub, glad not to be at the mercy of the harsh weather anymore. There was a large crashing sound as if the trees were getting ripped of their roots and the roar of the see crashing against the steep cliff walls was deafening. If only my father could see the danger he had bestowed upon me when sending across La Manche before the end of winter. Nigaud! I would be safer in Paris... But this bath was feeling so good it almost made the whole ordeal worth while.

When the dinner gong sounded, I was just finishing dressing in my green formal dinner dress and was pleased to finally have the chance to know the Manor and perhaps even meet some of the rest of the guests. Upon stepping out to the corridor, I saw monsieur Guthrie almost at the grand stairway, so I quickened up to catch in and entwined my arm on his, shooting him my most disarming smile. How embarrassing it would have been, having to enter the dinning hall unescorted. When we were back down on the foyer we both saw the elder gentleman that was said to be the proprietor of the estate and duly approached him to make his acquaintance.

"Bonsoir, monsieur" I said with a respectful curtsy "Mlle. Lépine, Zoé Lépine. Enchantée."

 

[Lady_J]

"Ah, deary me, with this rain coming like God's own tears, we'll be having a fine mess to clean up in the foyer girls."

Mrs. MacMurphy pushed a mop and bucket into Sadie, one of the chambermaids, hands.

Grant, the butler walked into the kitchen with a grim look on his face. "Two more for dinner Mrs. MacMurphy."

"Ach, I'm surprised they made it here at all in this weather, but thank you Grant. Before you go, find Mr. MacMurphy and ask him to bring in some more wood, the guests are sure to be wanting hot baths after such a drenching." She turned around and surveyed the remaining girls, "well don't be standing around, be about yer buisness now!" She clapped her hands and turned back to the savory soup she was flavoring with dried herbs.

 

[The GrandMage]

Prof. Plum

Baxter was struggling against the uncomfortable position of being under her master's arm as he slowly went back to the study. Baxter had been in the dining room, and Plum hadn't got the chance to bother the cook like he'd wanted. He stared at the two a little. He knew who they were, he made it a point to check everyone in and out himself, so they couldn't say they'd paid at some other time.

It was the fact they were bothering to talk to him at all. Being old, he was used to telling people what they needed to know, and being ignored. He set down the cat, who meowed in thanks before heading off to the study, where it'd long ago learned he was only going to end up dragging it off to anyway. Getting back up to his aged position, he looked up into their eyes.

"I'm enchanted to meet you as well, my dear. I hope you don't mind, but I don't speak French very well. My old tongue is quite stubborn, and refuses to speak in anything but English. I hope your rooms are up to your standards?"

 

[Lady Talia]

Talia

Talia stood back under the porch as the rain pelted down around her, her eyes opened wide, yet her face held a blank uncaring expression. She gathered the shawl closer to her shaking frame and cluthed the case tighter in her hand.

The rain ran down her hair in small rivulets that clung to her pallid skin, she looked as if one more string wind would knock her flat off her small booted feet.

Turning to the door, she waited until her maid servant Wendy knocked the large knocker. Talia jumped slightly at the sound, then returned to her state of living dead.

When the butler answered she scarcely said a word as they were ushered in.

"This is m' Lady Talia," Wendy explained in her Irish brogue " She doesn't say much, just widowed you see"

"Welcome to Grey Stone Manor"

Talia stared off into the darkness of the hall, unblinkinng.

"Mighty fine place you got here" Wendy marvelled" We were travelling to the country house ye see, the doctor said she need fresh air and the Summer Manor seemed the best place, but then this storm blew in, och...I tell ye..it's the devil's own"

The butler acknowledged her with a nod and took the large trunk and case from the robust woman.

Wendy went to see about the rooms and Talia stood, dripping in the foyer, even as the maids came to clean it up.

They stared at the hauntingly beautiful wisp of a child and just muttered "G'evening Mistress" respectively.

Clucthing the case even tighter in her white knuckled grasp, Talia merely absent-mindedly bobbed her head in greeting.

Her eyes followed the movement of the swinging chandeller with all the wonderment of a young child.

Wendy came back and took her gently by the arm.

"Come along M'Lady, they 'ave two nice suites for us, close by cause I no want to leave ye alone, especially with the storm"

Talia spoke then for the first time, her musical voice echoing slightly in the drafty hall.

" I am not a child" she simply stated before following the maid servent up the nearest staircase.

A strong blast of lightning crashed to the earth and the following thunder seemed to shake the house.

Talia stood shock still for a moment before moving slowly up the steps with the assistance of wendy, ver hovering close beside.

"That is a weird one" one of the chamber maids commented.

Talia heard her and looked back, with those pitiful eyes of hers.

"Tis the thunder and the lightning, that shakes the house so, that is all" her voice was soft and airy and for a moment it seemed that she smiled, but that soon vanished.

She turned once again, her white gown floating around her and continued shakily up the seemingly never ending stairs. stairs.

"That is nice Talia' Wendy soothed her" Tis extremely nice.."

 

[PmTick]

Arnold MacMurphy

Arnold was out on the grounds, replanting the beets the damn rabbits had eaten the night before. As the rain came down on him, hitting his skin and penetrating through every pour in his body, he cursed. He had been planting vegtables in the rain since he could walk and had watched his father do so as well.

One day he remembers his father had come home late from a day of planting cucumbers in rain with a horrible flu. The virus was so bad, his father had to remain in bed for at least a week, leaving 6 year old Arnold to the grounds work. On the final day his father had looked in his son's eyes and said, "Arnold, promise me one day you'll live better than this, working for spoiled bastards."

He couldn't help but think his father was looking down on him from heaven in disappointment now. His only son was just like him, a slave to the upper class.

 

[Shaq]

Detective Lovejoy

The soaking wet and cold overcoat that drapes over Cornelius Lovejoy’s frame is weighing down his efforts to walk toward the only light he sees in the darkness. But Lovejoy is propelled by a will to escape the storm he is currently in and the shame of his past failures.

As Lovejoy nears the light he sees in the distance he begins to notice other defining features. With the keen eyesight that is necessary for a detective he sees a large door and a balcony on the second floor of what looks to be some sort of residence. Coming even closer Lovejoy is impressed by the size of the establishment and wonders if the resident’s staff will be able to hear his pounding at the door of so large a dwelling.

Drenched in frozen sweat and rain Lovejoy struggles to lift his right arm has he clenched his fist around the large knocker and rapped it heavily. “My Lord, I fear my fate if the occupants do not receive me!” He said aloud. After some minutes the door opens and Lovejoy faces a butler.

”Excuse me, my name is Detective Cornelius Lovejoy. My voyage to the Americas was run off course and I was caught in a dreadful storm! I fear those who journeyed with me have been lost to the viciousness of the sea! Could I trouble the owner of this establishment to rent me a room so that I may be removed from this storm? Without any discernable emotion the butler simply stepped aside and motions Lovejoy in.

”This way sir” the butler says as he begins to lead Lovejoy down a decadent hall.

”I…I have money to pay for your Lord’s generosity of course” Lovejoy says.

”Of course” replies the butler continuing to walk without turning around. The butler leads Lovejoy into a room so large that it could have passed for a ballroom. The butler motions Lovejoy to sit in front of the fire as he takes his coat.

“Your room will be ready for you shortly sir. Welcome to Grey Stone Manor” he says.

Lovejoy quickly walks over to the fire and realizes for the first time how hard he has been shivering. After a few moments he turns around to speak with the Butler further only to discover he is gone.

 

[Firesprite]

Faintly visible in the dim storms light comes an eeriely soft white glow from near the base of the ancient fallen oak. Rising to about 5 feet off the ground, and forming a wispy column, it begins to move off into the trees at a stately pace.

 

[Zircon]

Belly

‘Good evening to you, Professor. I’m Belmont Guthrie. Nasty bit of weather that we’ve got here.’

I looked at the grizzled old man. He was a distinguished looking man, with the round wire-rimmed glasses just waiting to fall off. I found myself keeping tabs on when it will fall. But the remarkable thing was his eyes. It kept flicking at all directions. Although unsettling, it spoke of the wisdom that laid hidden behind them.

As we walked towards the dining room, I found myself drawn to the radiant Mlle. Lépine. I had not the chance to get to know her better on the ferry across the channel. She was young and fiery, whilst I was older, sobered by the fact that my dear mother keeps nagging me to get married.

The tapestry on the wall have not faded yet. The clash of armour, with the Knight Errant trying to save the Fair Maiden was a vivid as before. The low vaulted ceiling reflected the fire from the great fireplace in the dining hall. The candles were sedately flickering in the cosy room.

I graciously seated Mlle. Lépine before taking a seat at the opposite side of the table myself. I could see that the storm’s fury was at full now. The rain were completely sideways, and the howling even penetrated the thick mortar. I thought I saw something outside, insubstantial, near the gnarled old oak that was just uprooted by the storm. But I thought it was a just a play of shadows on the lighting, thunder and rain outside. I put it out of my mind.

‘Professor, excuse me. Does this Manor not have elec-tri-city? I thought I saw some of the modern light bulbs in the hallway. And if I may add, is there a telegraph station nearby? I’d wish to send a message to my father informing him where I am.’

 

[Lady Talia]

Talia

Talia waited until the maid had fallen asleep to carefully ease her way out of the large four poster bed. Drawing back the drapes she peered out into the night.

Talia opened the balcony door then, and stepped out into the moonlight. The wet florr boards were damp and cool beneath her bare feet.

Silhouetted in the moon's silken strands, her hair framing her fave like a dark halo she looked quite other worldly at this point.

She breathed deeply and let her breath shudder out of her lungs in one sigh.

"Anderson" ahe whispered in to the darkness.

As she scanned the trees beyond something caught her midnight gaze. A figure about 5ft in lenght, looking nothing more than a cylinder of luminescent light come floating from around the base of the large up rooted oak.

Taila leaned slightly over the balcony railing to get a better look. Her eyes grew wide and a slight chill ran up her spine as she watched the swaying figure make it's way closer to the house.

With out hesistating a minute more she turned slowly back into the chamber and sut the doors softly and drew the blinds. Then she fairly sprinted up onto the large bed and covered her self with the covers. Her heart thundered in her chest as she breathed shallow breaths.

The figure was still implanted in her mind. She slowly began to form a reasoning. It was probably another tenant lost in the storm, now the person was looking for something.


And the glow? A voice questioned.

Nothing but a lamp she thought. Nothing but a person with a lamp. She closed her eyes and forced her self to think of nothing. After all, one's mind would often take to wondering after such a stormy night...

 

[chewbacca71]

Liam

Standing at the head of the stairs, Liam sees quite a few people also entering the manor. It was raining so hard outside that this would be a good port in the storm. This could turn out to be a good thing that Sebastian was not able to make it. He could be such a wet blanket at times, not willing to meet new people. Liam was now looking forward to some interaction.

 

[The GrandMage]

Prof. Plum

The rain still poured outside, beating against the old house. He looked up as the butler ran up, informing him of what was going on. "What? Bloody 'ell! What's wrong with you! You know I sign everyone in, how dare these people have rooms without seeing me! You gave them what rooms? None of the rooms on the second floor have balconies, and you know the third floor isn't ready for guests yet! Oh, I'm too old for this. all the rearanging in the morning is going to make a mess."

He looked back to the two, who, it seems, had gone of to dinner. "Alright, you told them that dinner is, well, now, right? Well, go get as many as you can. And get me some brandy, will you?"

He ran a hand down his face as he moved into the dining room, going over and sitting at the head of the table, and glanced at the door to the kitchens. "This night is going to make me crazy."

 

[Shaq]

Detective Lovejoy

After some time has passed and Det. Lovejoy has become warm once again due to the blazing fire he begins to smell something.

*sniff, sniff*

"My what is that aroma..." Lovejoy says aloud absentmindely. Leaving the from in front of the fire for the first time that he arrived at Grey Stone Manor Lovejoy forgot his earlier fatigue and now focuses only on his gnawing hunger. Using his nose like a bloodhound Lovejoy begins to wander after that enticing smell.

 

[Khadgar]

Alexander Grey

Alexander heard a knock on the door and got up, trning out the light on the desk where he was mulling over some papers, another case for him when he got home.

he had been at the manor for almost a day now, and had been expecting the dinner call soon, so he made sure that the yellow pages were arranged neatly and tucked away into his locked briefcase and walked downstairs.

new people had arrived by the sounds of strange voices in the house. he walked to the dining room, hoping to meet them.

 

[chewbacca71]

Liam

Liam notices that a few of the people are making their way to the dining room. Maybe that would be a better setting to meet people. Most people are more relaxed when they eat. When he enters the dining area, he sees that Professor Plum has sat at the head of the table. Liam nods in greeting, and sits on his right side, a few seats down to leave room for others to sit closer to the Professor.

 

[Zircon]

Belly

Professor Plum seemed distracted, and so he did not answer my questions. Without so much as a by-your-leave, Prof. Plum left our company in search of a vent for his irritation. But no matter, the huge fireplace and flickering candles made for a relaxing atmosphere. After the terrible ride in the ferry, a little slowdown in pace was very welcomed. And a little cognac after dinner would help also.

The dining hall was beginning to fill with guests. The comfortable dinner chair was beginning to unwind my tenseness. The positively delicious smells coming from the kitchen was wafting towards us.

Suddenly a huge bolt of lightning lit up the night sky, and the figure that I thought was my imagination began to move. From my position, it had looked like a person, except of the fact that the feet were not on the ground. Shaking my head, I looked closely at the glass of White Port in my hand. The colour seemed all right, and so did the taste. The Manor stocked excellent Port. I should congratulate the Professor on his exceptional taste.

Again I tried to put the apparition out of my mind and concentrated on the impending meal.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Zoé Lépine:

I was sitting at the table in the impressive dinning hall, mindlessly sipping my chalice of white Port, and looking admiringly to the huge stained glass window overlooking the woods (Que travaille magnifique, presque si bon que celui de l'abbaye de Saint-germain) when it happened. It lasted only for a split second, whilst the lightning struck, illuminating everything outside the window, but I could have sworn that there was someone, or something, out there, slowly walking deep into the surrounding forest. No, wait. Not walking, gliding. Or floating? Its feet, if there were any, didn't touch the ground at all! And it was hard to tell through the stained glass, but there seemed to be some sort of luminescence involving the vaporous figure. I shivered for a moment, but curiosity didn't take more than that split second to overcome whatever residual fear there might have been. Glancing to monsieur Guthrie, I caught him staring outside too, but he quickly shifted his attention the glass of wine he was holding. I waited almost a full minute, my mind effervescente with hypothesis and strategies, before turning to him:

"Monsieur Guthrie, tell me, avez-vous seen that... apparition, a minute ago, outside the window? I know you must have!"

"I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you, Mlle Lépine" he said "I think I may have enjoyed a bit too much of this superb wine our host is providing. I'm feeling a bit light-headed and I really don't trust my senses when I'm like this. Huh, which isn't often!" he hurriedly added, as if to dissipate any misconception about him I might have. I gave him an understanding smile.

"I realize there is a leap of faith to be done here, but I have seen something too, and we couldn't have both hallucinated. I barely touched my drink! Can you think of any, huh, explication logique?"

"Frankly, I can't, but let's rationalize things for a bit: The thought of ghosts, because that's what you're thinking of, wandering on the fair grounds does not make sense. Back home, ghost stories are very common, the natives being quite a superstitious lot. The 'Bomohs' are always stirring up trouble between the Sultans and the British Overlords. But the East India Trading Company is full of bright fools, and the Sultans eagerly grasp the notion that trade would be in their best favour. I have heard these stories far too many times to believe any of it is real."

"I don't know. Peut-être I am too tired from the journey, but I know I saw something heading for the woods. I think we should at least try to know what was that as soon as the rain calms down, don't you?"

 

[Lady Talia]

Talia

Talia floated down to the dining room, which was already partially full.

She brought her cloak closer around her as she entered the room, with the alluring smells.

It seems like it or not, she would meet the other tenants.

"Goodnight" she said softly, lurking at the threshold uncertainly, she had been just into to hear what the french woman had said. Her heart lept to her throat then as all eyes turned to her.

 

[PmTick]

Arnold walked in from the storm, finally finishing his work outside. He tracked the mud from his boots into the house, not caring that his wife would chastice him later for it. Throwing his wet overcoat in the corner of his bedroom, Arnold retrieved his pipe and whittling from an old cigar box he kept stashed in the small wooden desk in the room.

Arnold had picked up whitteling from his father, as a boy on the estate. His nightly ritual of smoking while he carved toys for the children he never had helped Arnold forget about his problems, perhaps it was the agressive strokes of his knife or the nostalgia from the smell of tobacco.

When he was finished, he was left with an owl figurine. Latley lots of ravens had ben swooping around the corn fields, eating the corn before he had a chance to pick it. The fake owl would surely scare the pests away. He took one last drag from his pipe and stared out the window. He opened the glass, letting the tobacco drift out into the air so his wife wouldn't know of his actions.

 

[Zircon]

Belly

‘I don't know. Peut-être I am too tired from the journey, but I know I saw something heading for the woods. I think we should at least try to know what was that as soon as the rain calms down don't you?

Bowing my head in agreement, I said, ‘Yes I believe you’re right Mlle. Lépine. Hopefully tomorrow will be a fine day, for this much too nice a place to be indoors all the time. For now let us enjoy the meal before us.’ Finally, I admitted that the wine had not affected me as much as I had thought it would.

The soup was delicious. The cook must be congratulated on her finesse and skills. The subtle use of spices and herbs really enhanced the flavours, and the light taste of nutmeg in the soup reminded me of my uncle. My uncle had been to the Spice Islands and he had brought back some nutmeg for my mother. The veal was a little over cooked. Nevertheless, the meal was scrumptious, compared to the hard tack and salted pork that were the main fare on the trader. It was good to be eating right again. The wine had a little bit of aftertaste, an inferior year perhaps, but it did not diminish my enjoyment.

There was a huge man sitting at the table with us. He was taller than I am by a full head. By his jolly laughter, I gathered that he was just as glad as I was to be out of the weather. That was the single thing that I did not care for, even after the voyage through the Indian Ocean. The gales and storms were frequent, but we were sped on our way by the seasonal Monsoons. Here at this pleasant Manor, the bad weather was a bit of a bummer. It had detracted the mind and body from the much-needed sojourn.

I pushed the plates back with small sigh of contentment. The thought of ghosts wandering on the fair grounds did not intrude. Only that there must be a rational explanation for what, both Mlle. Lépine and myself, saw.

A pretty little serving maid came to clear the table. ‘Would you like some tea or Cognac, Sir?’

‘Cognac please, thank you.’

The Cognac was exceptional; the golden dark-brown colour swirled in the glass. I sought to engage the huge man in conversation, as it seemed that laughter was contagious. My stiff demeanour inherited from my strict father would need a little loosening.

‘Hello. Good evening to you Sir. My name is Belmont Guthrie. Please call me Belly, as my friends all do. Care for a smoke?’ As I took out my battered pipe and offered to the huge man a small pouch containing some Kashmiri Tobacco. ‘My cousin in the British Army introduced me to the pleasures of Kashmir tobacco. It was very smooth, unlike the some North American types.’