A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [37]
“I danno! That blow went through an’ now they’re dandy again! I never saw the like!”
“Are we able to proceed, then?”
“I’ll try, sir, and double-quick to make up for the stall!” He snapped the crop and the horses jerked forward, trotting fast through the tunnel of trees over the irregular, choppy road surface.
Somewhere the sun receded, but I could not see it through the impenetrable fog. The road then slid to a slow rise after the ravine, and it appeared even less used, if possible. No path or side route presented as we moved through the gloom, and the amount of light filtered through the blanket of cloud, diffused and pale and uniform, dwindled with each hoof beat.
At once the road took a stark upward angle, so steep and sudden the horses had to redouble their efforts to drag the lurching, pitching carriage up the grade. An instant before the rise, the rutted path gave way to a cobblestone drive, black and glistening with the moisture of the thick mist. The wheels steadied beneath the carriage and the cabin stabilized. I relaxed a trifle when the road began to slope level, and the fog at last parted to reveal the estate of my childhood friend.
A massive gray stone wall swung in a graceful curve around the front of the property, and the courtyard formed therein was paved with the same coal colored stones comprising the drive. A servant, ashen white and cadaverous thin, dressed in bleak gray-black rags with a damp gossamer trail of spider silk hair trailing down his neck, took the horses by the gear and helped halt the coach. The squat, barrel-shaped driver scrabbled over the back of his seat, and took the lantern from its hanger to untie my luggage strapped to the carriage top in the waning light. Above, the violet western sky faded to a deep, blackish purple, speckled with points of flitting stars. The evergreen spires and spears vanished against the dome of the coming night, overshadowing the estate at the rear. The vertical face of a cliff wall rose just above the house, and from this bluff the wall emerged to embrace the house and courtyard. Amber lights flickered in majestic panes of leaded windows, the glow prismed onto the wet cobbles. The sound of surf roared from somewhere beyond the house.
From the house, down the majestic and broad stairs leading to the entry, a wispy, scarecrow of a valet approached, still as a grave, also ashen-white and spectral, floating over the courtyard to my side. He spoke not a word but exchanged a glance with the other servant, and my bosom fluttered with a sense of fleeting, flighty dread that lighted upon my heart momentarily then danced away before I could identify the source.
With my trunks unloaded, the coach house servant led horses and driver to the left of the house, beneath gray stone arches into the coach house. The scarecrow valet nodded with eyes closing in formal silent greeting, and gestured to the mansion, a three-storey gabled stone façade braced by thick gray columns. Ivy-laced stone crawled up the building to the eaves, the entire structure appearing the same flat, featureless slate hue of the wall and bluff beyond.
I tucked my cane beneath my arm and pulled my fingers from my gloves, tugged the collar of my cape higher against the damp chill of autumn’s early evening. The valet swung wide the doors of the house and a bath of warm ochre light flooded the courtyard. I swept my hat from my head and dropped my gloves within, then examined the warmth of the interior, in stark contrast to the harsh coldness of the stone exterior. Wood tones and firelight, candles and gas lamps, rich colorful tapestries and mauve or dusty rose upholstery, Persian rugs in warm maroon or burgundy and patterns of white, cream and yellow, fringed with contrasting filaments. I stepped into the rich opulence of the foyer and the huge crystal chandelier above the gleaming varnished floor puddled the light at my feet, driving my shadow from every side.
A heavy thud slammed my heart to a stop when the servant behind me closed the entrance. He took my cane and cape, hat and gloves wordless